Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  She groaned when he moved his hand to the top of her thigh and over to her folds. He found that nub of pleasure without a second to spare. What did he intend? For a moment she wished he would return to tickling her instead. Her breath hitched as he toyed with that bud, stoking those agonizing ripples in her loins. How was it her body should be so responsive to his touch? Her body would betray her even if every ounce of forbearance cautioned against that sweet torture. His caresses were simply too exquisite. Despite herself, she found herself craving more, as if she had not already found satiation and spent. Or perhaps it was because she had. Was it possible that spending primed her body to want more? Like a single bite of confection was not enough.

  His languid and attentive strokes had her panting and grunting. What a weakling she was! How could she be so devoid of character of a sudden? Lust soon overcame her disappointment as his fondling brought her higher toward rapture. This time she did not fear the strange yet enthralling agitation building inside her. She knew it was well worth the ecstasy that awaited on the other side of the precipice.

  But to her surprise, he withdrew his hand. He wiped her wetness on a buttock. The area between her thighs ached and throbbed in his absence. The discomfort of being bereft permeated her to her core. In that moment, she preferred the tickling.

  “You know that I could do anything to you right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how do you feel about that—do you think your husband would like to see you thus?” She swallowed. “And you, would you like him to pleasure you, and himself, in this way?”

  Now would be an opening to reconsider this path she had ventured down, but no words came to her.

  He called her attention by swatting a buttock.

  She gasped. “Y-yes.”

  He rewarded her by touching her between the legs, his caresses easily reawakening her arousal. She gave herself into the beautiful sensations welling in her lower body.

  “Ah, my dear, not yet. You may not spend until I say. Delay immediate gratification and you shall find the pleasure you seek more exquisite.”

  She panted and moaned lightly. Her body teetered on the precipice, but she nodded and focused on him. He returned to fondling her quim. Her climactic euphoria could wash away all other sensations, all thoughts.

  “Your husband must want to see you thus, in the throes of pleasure, vital and waiting.”

  “Please, I…”

  His ministrations, his teasing of her flesh, brought her to again to the precipice and tumbled her over into the sea of ecstasy. Her body erupted in shivers. For several seconds, she knew nothing but pleasure.

  After wringing the last of the tremors from her body, he remained still and quiet while she basked in the glow of carnal satiation.

  "Thank you, sir."

  *****

  Standing behind her, he returned to stroking her flesh. She groaned, in relief, in desire, in frustration that she could not utter the words that would end this. His fingers caused a new heat to burn. She pressed herself into his hand, desperate for the release that would diminish the aching in her chest. He sank two digits into the seat of her wetness and touched a part of her that sent her reeling. The discomfort of her position began to fade in favor of the delicious sensations lancing through her. Her cries now were of a different nature. He coaxed her toward the plateau she sought with surprising swiftness. Her body gloried in his abilities, though a small part of her wished she had never known his touch for she worried that nothing else could ever match its potency and beauty. With a devastating cry, she fell into paroxysm, her body jerking and bucking against his hand and into the bed. This was the most delightful of experiences. It was certain her body would know no finer pleasure.

  She lay, relishing the sweet hum in her body. The blood still pulsed between her legs, down her legs, and even in her toes. She had asked for lessons, but he had gifted her pleasure along with them. But, when she felt him rubbing her foot, she knew he was not yet done. His thumb caressed the arch of her foot. He employed the plume again. Her body, already in a heightened state of pure sensation, could not stand even this light touch. She laughed in agony and jerked against her bonds, but he held her foot fast. He tickled her till fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. She would have preferred in that instant to have been a paraplegic. Just as she thought she could not catch her breath amidst her laughs, he stopped.

  “You have a delightful laugh.”

  Her face pressed into the bed. She could barely move enough to speak, even if she could. He seemed to sense her thoughts and untied her hands. Rubbing her wrists gently, he then retied them to the bed posts, so that her arms stretched on either side. He assisted her to move her legs up as well, so she could lift her head more easily.

  "Is that better?"

  "Yes. Thank you," she answered.

  "You are to be commended, my dear. Indeed, you are doing as well as many a veteran of Château Follett."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "I shall repeat: You have a delightful laugh.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good. A gentleman likes his compliments acknowledged. Do you like compliments? I believe you are that rare woman who does not.”

  “Yes, I mean, no.” She let her body relax into the bed again, her head a muddle from the storm brewing in her body.

  The bed sank for he had climbed atop it. She felt his fingers strum her bud of pleasure. Through the aching of head and the trembling of her body, beautiful sensations managed to blossom between her legs. She was all confusion. A part of her wanted to curl in a corner and sob till her tears emptied. Another wanted only to exalt in the pleasure he was able to command. She moaned as the tension in her womanhood began to build.

  She heard the rustle of clothing, then felt his velvet hardness at her folds. His rod slid along her wetness. Her sensations heightened in both alarm and desire. She yearned for and feared his penetration. As he drew his length between her nether lips, she tilted toward the former. Her mind desperately cautioned her against wanting this. It was wrong. She would undo all the penance she had suffered by breaching her marital vows again. To want this was madness.

  But her body had partaken of the poisoned apple and craved the forbidden fruit. The temptation between her legs was too great. She wanted that euphoric rush, wanted it to wipe away her doubts and fears.

  "Do you wish to spend again?"

  "Yes," she moaned.

  "Do you wish me to ravish you?"

  She groaned. She did not want to risk it, but his stroking had ignited a fire that needed to be doused.

  "Yes."

  "You deserve to be ravished well, my dear."

  That said, he sank himself into her. She groaned at the unfamiliar stretching inside her. A slight rawness remained from being taken earlier, but the discomfort soon faded, replaced by a most delicious tension. She wanted him to fuel the aggravation in her loins. He obliged with a slow and steady thrusting.

  She sniffed then groaned. "Oh…"

  "Does it please you, my dear?"

  Most assuredly. Aloud, she said, "Yes."

  "You enjoy being fucked."

  With each thrust of his, she felt the heavens descend closer toward her. Nothing mattered but the euphoria awaiting her.

  "Do you enjoy being taken by a man not your husband?"

  This jolted her, interrupting her journey through carnal paradise.

  "Answer me. Do you enjoy being taken by a man not your husband?"

  "N-No."

  He pulled out. She gasped at the emptiness. Her body rioted at the withdrawal.

  "Are you quite certain of that?" he asked as his tip toyed with her opening.

  "No… I am not certain."

  "Then you do wish me to take you?"

  She whimpered. "Yes. Please… Take me."

  "And ravish you?"

  "Please ravish me," she whispered.

  She tried to feel his shaft grazing her between her thighs.

  "You wish me to ra
vish you."

  Had that not already been established? she wanted to retort, but she wallowed too much in misery to accomplish a rejoinder. Perhaps there was still hope that she had enough forbearance to overcome her venereal cravings.

  But when he plunged himself back inside her, she was lost. He varied the rhythm and intensity of his thrusting.

  "Is this how you wish to be ravished?"

  "Yes," she uttered between grunting and groaning. Her climax emerged upon the horizon.

  He held onto her hips, his motions purposeful as he stroked the lovely frenzy.

  "Tell me, have he always enjoyed being taken in such lewd fashion?"

  His words burned her ears, but she had to admit, as degrading as the position was, it felt marvelous. His penetration deepened, his pelvis slapping into her derrière.

  "Answer me."

  "Yes."

  "And why is it you enjoy this manner?"

  She braced herself against the tide of pleasure, a part of her still afraid of the force of sensations threatening to overwhelm her body.

  "Because I am a wanton harlot." She knew not where the words had come from, and he, too, seemed surprised for he paused.

  "Well, well. That you are. And it is my pleasure to oblige a harlot such as yourself."

  He resumed bucking against her. She cried out she began to ascend the waves.

  "You are quite the delightful harlot. One that needs and desires to be ravished all night long."

  She peaked. He drilled deeper and harder as ecstasy crashed into her, drowning her in divine paroxysm. She was not conscious of his tightening grip upon her hips or the increased force of his pounding. She felt herself soaring to heights she had never before known. The intensity of it was otherworldly.

  He slammed himself into her. He roared and pulled from her. Liquid heat rained on her legs. A small voice cautioned that she played a dangerous gamble. But that did not matter in the moment. She had been catapulted into the heavens, and she knew not that she would return.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TRUDIE LAY UPON HER side, still in a daze. Moments ago, she had been floating, her body brought to heights she had never before known existed.

  The bonds had been removed from her wrists and ankles. Though she was free to move, she remained where she was upon the bed, drawing in a deep breath as she tried to put together a coherent thought. The throbbing between her thighs and the pulsing in her limbs had faded. After the euphoria had ebbed, a hollowness emerged.

  He had ravished her. At her own behest. Though she had found more pleasure than she had ever thought possible, what price had it come at?

  She sat up, pulled away from him and sat up. She had agreed to suffer penance for her crimes, in the hopes that her guilt would be lessened. But he had made her spend, had taken her once more, and made her guilty of adultery anew. She felt the viscous evidence of her infidelity between her legs. Anger and shame quaked inside her.

  “You will want refreshment after what you have endured,” he said, standing before her. “I will procure for you drink and sustenance. After you have partaken of some refreshments, we shall continue with your lesson.”

  He kissed her on the brow before departing. It was an odd gesture and seemed almost affectionate, but Trudie would grant him no allowances. She failed to understand how her body could respond so favorably to him but that the carnal must be wholly separate from the mind.

  And he expected to continue with her lesson! She could suffer no more at the man’s hands.

  After he had departed, she rose from the bed. She would dress but feared doing so would delay her escape. Grabbing a robe, she slid into it and hurried out the door.

  Out in the corridor, she knew not where to head but determined she would put as much distance between herself and her debaucher as possible. In bare feet, she scurried through the hall and was cognizant that she had entered a different part of the Château for the flooring and walls had changed. She slowed when she heard voices, one familiar to her ears.

  Diana. Her husband’s cousin.

  “No need to tarry out here, mademoiselle,” said a man who had come up behind her. “You’ll have a much better view inside.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the room. Luckily for Trudie, he released her when a woman pounced upon him and drew all his attentions.

  Nearly a dozen men and women, in various states of dress, occupied the room filled with sofas and tables set about a mound of pillows in the middle of the room.

  “Trudie!” Diana waved her over.

  Without her mask, Trudie did not feel comfortable in extended company, but she had no wish to encounter her debaucher. Feeling safer with Diana, she went to take a seat beside her friend upon a divan.

  “Where is your night’s paramour?” Diana asked.

  “He and I are done,” Trudie replied and hoped that her friend would not ask for particulars.

  “Then you are free to enjoy in the revelry here!” Diana handed her a glass of wine. “Madame Follet has a fine cellar. You’ll not find a better claret.”

  Trudie took the glass. Though she did not partake of wine often, she finished the glass rather promptly.

  Diana raised her brows and motioned for one of the footmen, scantily clad in nothing but a Roman toga, to approach. “Another glass for my friend.”

  Trudie opened her mouth to object but Diana spoke over her. “Does Château Follet not exceed expectations? La! I wonder that I had waited as long as I had before coming? How silly I was to have thought my husband would give up his mistress! But at last I have found a proper divertissement for me, and I vow it were much more exciting than what Charles must have with his lightskirt! You saw the Adonis I found. Is he not far more handsome than Charles?”

  Trudie would have looked for the man Diana had paired with for the evening but found it too unsettling to observe some of the guests, a few of whom were in engaged in amorous activity. Her cheeks reddened at glimpsing a couple brazenly petting one another, and she promptly decided that staring into her empty glass was a safer way to past the time.

  “He has gone in search of the perfect Champenois wine,” Diana supplied. “I told him I adored the sparkle and the bubbles.”

  Trudie watched Diana recline at an angle and wished she had her friend’s ease. One would have thought Diana to be a frequent guest of the Château. Trudie, in contrast, still harbored the desire to flee. But as the hour was very late, she could not. And courtesy would not allow her to depart without her friend. Thus, she was trapped.

  A part of her wanted to reveal the details of what had transpired to Diana, to seek her counsel and her solace. As she observed the merriment in Diana’s countenance, however, she decided to keep her own woes to herself rather than dampen her friend’s mood.

  But Diana noticed her less than cheerful disposition.

  “Why so glum?” Diana asked. “Do you miss your lover? Did he desert you?”

  Trudie shook her head.

  Diana leaned in. “Was he all that you had hoped for in a lover?”

  “Goodness, no!” Trudie replied. “I mean…he was…”

  “I can tell by the blush in your cheeks that he must have been, at the least, decent.”

  Blushing further, Trudie did not know how to respond. Her debaucher had made her spend despite the mental agony of her situation.

  “Perhaps our lovers would consider swapping?” Diana mused aloud. “I am curious to know what your lover is like. Mine has been more than satisfactory, I assure you.”

  Trudie’s mind whirled. She had sinned with one man and could not contemplate committing adultery with a second.

  “We have an entertaining enactment,” Diana purred. “I am his ‘lovely little slave,’ as he calls me, and he is my ‘Master Aries.’ I must do his every bidding, and I serve him gladly for the rewards are delicious.”

  “If you do not perform his bidding, what happens then?”

  “I always do as he wishes.”

  “There
are no consequences?”

  “I should hope not...or perhaps it would be rather fun to see what he would do…We are merely playing roles. Ah, my master approaches with the wine!”

  Diana’s Adonis of flaxen hair approached with a bottle in hand.

  “And who is your friend?” he asked of Diana as he sat beside her.

  “This is my cousin-in-law,” Diana replied, holding up her glass for him to fill.

  “Is she joining us for a menage-a-trois?”

  Heat flared in Trudie’s cheeks.

  “She is spoken for,” Diana answered for Trudie. “Thus, you must make any arrangements with her lover first.”

  “And where is he?”

  “I know not,” Trudie answered quickly, rather terrified that the man would seek out her debaucher.

  “How is you do not know? He left you to fend for yourself on your first evening?”

  “He…had other matters to attend.”

  “Darling,” Diana interjected, “this wine is delightful. You must try it!”

  Master Aries poured a glass for Trudie.

  “I could drink this all day!” Diana said and held up her empty glass once more.

  As he filled it, Trudie took a sip of hers. It was a cheerful wine and only mildly bitter.

  “Do you not like it?” Diana inquired after swallowing it as easily as if it were milk tea.

  “Careful,” Master Aries said. “The effervescence makes inebriation faster than you would suspect. Perhaps I should hold your glass.”

  Diana giggled as he held her glass for her to sip from. Feeling a little awkward witnessing them, Trudie continued to drink her wine. She turned her gaze to a couple lying amid a bed of pillows in the center of the room.

  The man and the woman were both naked. Trudie wondered that they had the courage to display themselves in such audacious and wanton fashion. They must be quite intoxicated. The woman lay stretched before her partner, her black tresses spread out among the pillows, a contrast to her alabaster skin. The woman groped her own breasts, rolling them over her chest as the man looked on, stroking his member. She spread her legs wide, a clear invitation. They would engage in congress in public, Trudie realized. With his free hand, the man caressed her crotch. She moaned and tugged at her nipples. For several minutes, they continued in this manner. He stroked himself, then her, then himself again. She began to writhe with her moans.