Statuesque

by Chera Zade

  “You were a very good little thing while I shaved you,” he said, pausing for a moment to look up at her. “Don’t forget, bad girls gets spanks. Good girls get kisses.”

  “Kisses— there?” She asked, her body trembling.

  “Oh yes, most definitely there. And you’ve been a very good girl during your shaving,” he said, stroking her bare flesh right before returning his mouth to her cunny.

  Oh the kisses that he gave her. Deep, passionate kisses in such an unexpected place soon had her hips attempting to buck, although the silken bonds on her legs prevented their movement.

  “Yes,” he said, breathing against her excited cunny, “show me exactly how much you like your reward.”

  She answered him with a series of moans, each one more intense than the last, as he mouthed against her, drinking in her cunny juices as his tongue urged her to greater and greater wetness, her cunny convulsing with joy.

  Chapter 23

  Gillian

  All too quickly, their time together was at an end.

  Her legs were still trembling as she dressed. “When Lord Standish-when he-” she stammered, blushing madly, unable to finish her question.

  “Are you worried that it will hurt when he inspects you? Don’t be. He’ll be very careful, after all he’s the one who wants to preserve your virginity.”

  “And you?”

  He smiled. “Right now, I’m weighing the potential pleasure of the experience versus the punishment of getting leg-shackled.”

  “Punishment? It would be a punishment to marry me?”

  “Marriage can be a punishment. My parents were unhappily married. Hated each other, actually. As a result, I haven't been eager to rush into it. On the other hand,” he said eying her, if you really are as good a fuck as you look--”

  She shook her head. “And feel like I’ve trapped you into marriage?”

  “What if I never want to stop being inside you?”

  “And what if you don’t?”

  “What if you drive me so mad with desire that it’s impossible to feel trapped?”

  “And how would I do that?”

  “Lift up your dress. I want to examine my artistry again."

  “You aren’t asking me to--”

  “Oh yes, and if I find that you’ve put those ridiculous drawers back on, you can find yourself over my knee with the damn things yanked down.”

  “But- but everyone wears drawers now, it wouldn’t be proper, not to--”

  With a growl, he had his arm around her waist, and in the next instant, had her tipping forward.

  One hard yank was all it took to destroy the thin ribbon belt.

  With a firm grip, the linen fell past her knees, exposing her bottom.

  Smack, his large hand collided with her bare backside. “If I ever find you wearing such ridiculousness again, you will be spanked for it again. Do you understand?”

  She knew she shouldn’t have shaken her head, but she really didn’t understand what was so wrong about wearing drawers.

  “Provoking vixen,” he said, spanking her harder. “You would try to bait me?”

  “Bait you?”

  He smiled at her. “You’ve been warned. If I catch you in drawers again, I’ll know it was because you want another spanking. And I’ll happily oblige you.”

  “Happily?”

  “Yes, happily. I like having you over my lap. I liked it the other day with Standish watching, and I like it now, with just the two of us.”

  “But how could you like such a thing?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know, but I suppose it’s just the other side of the coin from you enjoying being on the receiving end.”

  “Enjoying this? Are you quite mad?”

  “Careful, wench,” he said, stroking her inner thigh, “you’ve no fur to help keep your secrets. Now, surrender yourself to your punishment, and then I shall make things even more pleasurable for you.”

  Quickly, he peppered her bottom, until she felt quite hot and bothered. And then, just as fast, he drew her back to the bed and pressed her down.

  Chapter 24

  Gillian

  Once more she was on the bed, only this time without restraints. And with a throbbing bottom.

  She squirmed as he pressed her down to the mattress.

  “Yes, that’s right, take that feeling and let it go right to your loins, you naughty wench.”

  “Take what feeling?” She asked, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth when she understood exactly what he meant as he spread her thighs apart.

  Oh my! Was this how she was to be deflowered? But instead of spearing her with his cock, he kissed her at the top of her thighs, right where her leg met the area that had previously been lightly thatched.

  “Yes, you are still a virgin. But that is not what you wish to be, is it?” He asked, letting his finger linger, slowly tracing her slit. “Poor desperate thing, he said, as her breathing got heavier, so eager to give up her maidenhead. But your Aunt and Uncle would be terribly angry.”

  She shuddered at the reference to her family. His face was closer to her now, his warm breath heating her where she was already quite warm.

  “Please, I—“

  “Ah, such a good polite wench, asking so politely. Very well then, since you asked nicely—“

  Her hips jerked forward as his tongue licked over her bare flesh.

  Her hips bucked again.

  “You’re a natural for it,” Lord Carrington said. “The scullery is no place for you, my beauty. You need a man’s hands on you, showing off your charms.”

  Beauty. He had called her “my beauty.” He could not mean the words, but the way he said them. “Could you ever fall in love?” she asked him.

  “I thought I had.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was a moonlit night, and we kissed in a way I had never imagined kissing could be.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Disappeared into the night.”

  “But did you not try to go after her?”

  “As soon as I realized my mistake. Which was but a moment after relinquishing her. And then I did everything I could to find her.”

  “And you did not like her when you met again?”

  He shook his head. “We never met again. I am convinced I gave my heart to a dream, or a phantom. I paid every servant I could find, but she did not exist.”

  “But I exist!”

  “Yes, yes you do. And you remind me so much of her, that I swear that I am losing my mind, and my--. Tell me, have you ever been to Groton Park?”

  “Perhaps,” she said, unsure how much she could risk revealing.

  “Ah, what if it was you that I've been dreaming of all along!” He exclaimed, holding her tight.

  Chapter 25

  Gillian

  It was at that crucial moment that Lord Standish entered the room, interrupting them.

  “All done?”

  “Indeed,” Lord Carrington said. “Show His Lordship your pretty cunny, Miss Hall.”

  She balked. “I can't.” It was one thing to share such naughty intimacies with Lord Carrington, it was another to reveal herself to Lord Standish.

  “Now, how are you to be a good statue? You do realize that as a statue, your cunt will be on display to everyone?” Lord Standish asked.

  “Make me proud,” Lord Carrington said, whispering in her ear. “I want every man in the Club to see what a delicious, ripe cunny you have. A cunny that belongs to me.”

  She felt a warm glow at his words.

  “Yes, make me proud, Miss Hall. Go on sweet, Gillian, show Lord Standish what a good job I did, and how much I struggled to keep from penetrating you.”

  “Help me do it,” she told him.

  “Good wench,” Lord Carrington said, giving her bottom a pinch, right before lifting up the front of her dress.

  A moment later, he was gently pushing her wet cunny lips apart.

  Unh... she whimpered, as Lord Standish b
ent down to examine her.

  “What a lucky wench you are, to be found so pleasing by two Lords,” Lord Carrington whispered.

  “By two Lords?” She asked. “I could not possibly--”

  “Ah, but you are wrong,” he said circling behind her and lifting the back of her dress.

  She moaned as Lord Carrington‘s hands cupped her bottom and Lord Standish slid his index finger inside her wet slit.

  “A bit of fun,” Lord Carrington said, his voice husky, his lips close to her ear.

  “This isn’t the sort of fun that I’m used to—,” She gulped hard as her body began to shudder, Lord Standish’s finger now swirling against her.

  “No, it wouldn’t be. But it should be, shouldn’t it?”

  Two men. One in front, and one in back. And as Lord Standish checked for her maidenhead, Lord Carrington decided to explore another path.

  Unh. She moaned, gasping now, her body and mind struggling to accept the strange new pleasures.

  Lord Carrington was really behind her. And that really was his face, his rakish, handsome face, that was currently making her bottom twitch and jump and throb in ways she never could have imagined.

  His tongue- bathing her back there? In a completely unmentionable place. It was impossible. It was obscene. It felt— it felt incredible as his wet tongue penetrated her there, the tight ring of muscle yielding to his command.

  And Lord Standish was no longer prodding her with his finger, but with his tongue.

  Her fingers dug into Lord Standish’s thick wavy hair for purchase, as both men mouthed her to her embarrassed delight.

  She continued to moan for quite some time.

  When she finally recovered herself, it was with a deeply satisfied sigh.

  “Oh my,” she said, if a girl is to ruin herself, at least it was done in the most wonderfully pleasurable of ways.”

  Lord Standish shook his head. “Not ruined, at least not in the sense of losing your maidenhead. The cursed membrane still stands.”

  “You mean— you mean one can engage in all of that without--”

  “Yes. And get used to it, my dear. You're part of the Infernalis Club now,” Lord Carrington whispered in her ear. “Now, go get ready for your debut as a statue.”

  Chapter 26

  Gillian

  Gillian was used to the safety of wallflowers, of sitting in chairs off to the sides, while other people had their amusements at balls, at musicals, at theatricals.

  But today, today she was to be on display for the first time. And there would be no possibility of hiding.

  She was so far beyond the strictures of propriety, the smooth gliding of her thighs reminding her that she had indeed bared herself to Lord Carrington. That she had actually laid back against a bed, her body propped upon cushions, as Lord Carrington demonstrated his careful technique, the silver blade gleaming against her pale skin and... and against the light thatching of fur that had helped hide her sex.

  And now, she found herself slowly removing her robe, baring herself for Lettie, an attendant at the infamous Infernalis Club.

  Her heart was pounding so hard, she couldn’t imagine how Lettie was able to coat her with the rice mixture, applying layer after layer until she no longer appeared to be made of flesh, but of marble.

  Lettie draped a white, diaphanous fabric over one of her arms. It did nothing to obscure any of the parts that Lettie had referred to as her “charms,” but it did add to the effect of being a Greek statue.

  “Coo,” Lettie said, beaming as she stood back to admire her handiwork. “You’ll make quite the impression. They’ll be lining up for you.”

  She shook her head.

  Lettie gave her a look. “I’ve been here long enough to know what the members like, and they are going to love you.”

  “I’m not statuesque. I'm too plump, I’m not the right—

  Lettie clucked her tongue.

  “Does Lord Standish permit you to speak so freely?”

  Lettie smiled. “Whether he does or not, I do so anyway. Besides, His Lordship hasn’t been able to come up with a punishment yet that I haven’t enjoyed at least as much as he has.”

  “But your husband—“

  “Oh, he keeps proposing, but me and my Lawson aren’t married yet. At least not in the Church way.”

  “But does he not mind if you—“

  “Mind? Loves it, he does.”

  “But watching you with another... with another man—“

  “Oh, Lawson likes a bit of watching, and then he likes more than a bit of participating.” Lettie smiled. “Randy thing he is. Keeps trying to get me to the altar. Would you like him to help mount you?”

  “I think Lord Standish will lead me to the pedestal himself for my display.”

  Lettie grinned. “That wasn’t exactly the type of mount I was referring to. Lawson’s quite good at it, for all it makes him arrogant to know it.”

  She felt slightly dizzy— “Do you mean to say that your Lawson would--”

  “Yes, if I asked him. And a good job he would do of it.”

  “Things are very different at the Infernalis Club, aren't they?”

  “My kind of different,” Lettie said. “And yours?”

  “Yes, I'm beginning to think so.”

  “You are going to be quite the sensation. Do you think I should add another layer of rice paste, to keep your pinks from shining through?” Lettie asked.

  “I believe I’ve been covered enough,” she replied. “I am to stand as a statue.”

  “Look but don’t touch? My, but His Lordship gets creative with his punishments.”

  “I, um, I believe there might be some degree of touching, but not anything in excess. Lord Standish said some of the men might wish to rub my statue for good luck.”

  “It’s be more to their luck if they were allowed more than just a chance to give you a rub. Still though, you must know which parts of a statue get rubbed for luck.”

  She looked at Lettie blankly.

  “Well, that’ll be a nice treat for you. But don’t you let on any effect, or it will ruin the effect of being a statue.”

  “Now, let's give you over to his Lordship,” Lettie said, bustling her out of the room, into a small connecting antechamber.

  Lord Standish gave her a low bow. “Extraordinary. Quite well done, Lettie,” he remarked, scrupulously looking her over.

  She was certain that her cheeks were burning hot enough for her flush to be seen beneath the rice paste, but if they were, Lord Standish did not comment on it.

  “Turn please,” he instructed her, turning a critical eye over her backside as well.

  “Our first, but hopefully not our last, statue. I would kiss your hand, but I would hate to mar Lettie’s work.”

  She nodded.

  “Careful, Miss Halliday. We cannot have you moving more than necessary, we do not wish for your coating to be ruined.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” she replied.

  “And do be careful not to lick your lips, or you might do away with the paste.”

  “Any more rules, Your Lordship?”

  He smiled. “Make Carrington fall even more in love with you.”

  “Even more?”

  “My dear lady, he has spanked you, he has shaved you, he has watched while I handled you, and I have forbidden him full congress. If the man does not explode, he shall be attempting a proposal.”

  “A proposal?” She asked, her heart rising in her chest.

  “Yes. And Your Aunt will dislike it.

  “Because he is a known rake?”

  “Yes, but mostly because he is an Earl, and she should hate to see you married over her own daughters.”

  “And if she does not accept his offer?”

  “You are well over the necessary age. But, if you believe she shall object, then we shall—“

  “Have it done at Gretna?”

  He laughed. “So, you read those kinds of stories? No, it will not be done at Gretna, with a cloud o
f doubt over whether your marriage was preceded by marital relations. No, if you face opposition at home, then you shall be married by special license at Lord Carrington‘s vicarage.”

  How strange it was, to stand before them all, completely bare, and completely unrecognized.

  With the exception of one or two of them, the men were all familiar faces from various balls. But, while they did not realize who she was, they were now paying attention to her for the first time.

  Their eyes were dark, and sparkling with lust as they gathered around her, circling where she stood on an elevated pedestal.

  She had not expected to embody the expression quite so literally.

  How strange it was to see herself through their eyes now, how different from the ball that had been held at Shreve House only a short while ago.

  There they had been formal and detached. Their lack of interest covered only by decent manners.

  Now, manners had fallen by the wayside. And their interest, judging by the bulges in their breeches, was considerable.

  A lady was supposed to look away from such a sight. But fortunately, she did not have to be a lady tonight. Tonight she was pretending to be a naughty scullery maid who had been elevated to the role of a living statue in her employer’s secret, and incredibly debauched, private Club.

  It was fascinating really. If she stared at them long enough, she could even see a bit of movement, a palpable throb. Absolutely fascinating.

  Most of the time, she was either shunted out of sight, or overlooked as a poor relation, or covered with so many dowdy layers she might as well have no shape at all. Being looked at was the last thing in the world that she was accustomed to.

  And now, clad in nothing but a rice paste that gave her an ethereal glow- making her look as if she was alabaster or marble, she had transformed into something, someone that was meant to be looked at. Yes, definitely someone. For all of her efforts to look like an object, it was quite obvious that she wasn’t one- that she was not a rarefied sculpture, but a living, breathing, and very naked woman.

  A naked woman that they wanted to bed.

  But they couldn’t, for they all had to pretend that she was a statue, as she adopted various classical poses.