Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  Trudie took another sip of her wine, only to find the glass empty. How had she finished it so quickly?

  "Do you wish for more?" asked Master Aries.

  "Perhaps a little more," replied Trudie.

  He refilled her glass for her. Trudie returned to looking at the naked couple in the middle of the room. There was something utterly inappropriate and completely naughty in watching the private corporal acts of another, yet curiosity won over guilt and shame. After all, she was not watching them in secret. Nay, the couple flaunted what they did. The man began to slide his member along the woman’s folds.

  With a grunt, the man sank into his companion. Trudie’s mouth dropped.

  “Mmm, I should like to be her,” Diana murmured.

  From the corners of her eyes, Trudie saw Diana’s hand pull at her own skirts.

  “Allow me,” Master Aries said.

  Flushing, Trudie fixed her attention upon her wine and the couple in the center of the room. Every time the man bucked his hips, the woman groaned with evident pleasure. Trudie wondered that the woman could feel not the slightest discomfort being exposed to all, roughly taken by this man on the floor of the room.

  Beside her, Trudie could hear Diana faintly panting.

  The woman cried out in evident pleasure. The man followed not long after, roaring as if he had injured himself something fierce.

  Trudie realized she felt exceptionally warm and that an agitation swirled gently below her navel. She found she rather envied the woman laying prone upon the pillows.

  Diana gave a great sigh and mumbled, “That was rather delightful.”

  “Another glass, my dear?” asked Master Aries. “I see your friend may need another as well.”

  Trudie looked down at her empty glass.

  “Shall I bring another bottle?” asked a footman.

  “If you will show me to Madame’s cellar, I should like to select my own.”

  “I wish to go as well,” Diana said, leaping to her feet. “You were gone far too long last time. Come, Trudie, lest you prefer to remain here?”

  Trudie rose to her feet. She did not wish to be in a roomful of strangers, and a walk about might clear her head. Then she would decide what to do with the remainder of the night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A FAINT BUT UNCOMFORTABLE throbbing persisted like a vise about her head. Trudie fluttered her eyelids, glad for the dimness of her surroundings. She had fallen asleep, and part of her wanted to remain in slumber, but all was not right.

  She could not remember where she had fallen asleep. Memories of a woman being taken by a naked man in a room full of strangers danced in and out of her consciousness. She recalled the thrusting of the man, how the woman palmed her own breasts and grunted with pleasure being filled by him. Trudie remembered attempting to douse with champagne the rising lust in her own body. She had consumed too much. That was why she had fallen asleep. But she did not recall drifting off to sleep in the salon. She had been with Diana and Diana's paramour. And there was another. One of the footmen. She did not remember his name. She had been in their company. Diana and her paramour had stumbled off somewhere, leaving Trudie alone with the footman. That was the last of what she remembered before falling asleep.

  Realizing her discomfort extended to other parts of her body, Trudie attempted to adjust herself, but she could not move. Opening her eyes wide, she saw that she was not in the salon, nor the cellar where Madame Follett kept her wine, but a new chamber altogether. And the reason she could not move was because she was bound to the bed again, as she had been earlier, her wrists tied to the posts. Her head felt heavy, her confusion and upset greater than it had been before. Had the footman tied her in this manner? Her body felt as if it had been tossed about in a post chaise on a bad road. Even her jaw felt sore, with spittle drooling down the sides of her mouth because she must have fallen asleep with her mouth open. What humiliation was to be endured now? She tried not to panic. “Awake at last.”

  It was the voice of her debaucher. She could not decide if she was relieved or not.

  She decided not.

  Though she could not see him as he was somewhere in the shadows of the room, she could hear his footsteps. She heard the sound of liquid being poured into a glass.

  Where had Diana gone off to? Trudie struggled against her bonds.

  “I would not waste the energy were I you,” he said. “You will require it to last the night.”

  He stepped into her view, and she saw that, unlike her, he was fully clothed save that he had foregone a coat. He cupped her chin and lifted her head. In the dim lighting of the room, she could not make out the expression in his eyes from behind his mask, but from the firm set of his jaw, she believed she had much to fear. She did not believe she could endure any more, not even pleasure.

  "I had not given you permission to leave," he continued, "thus, I was quite disappointed to find you gone when I returned. You realize you will have to learn from your lack of regard."

  She gave a despairing moan as he released her chin and let her head fall.

  "But I think you will be up for the task for you are much more the wanton creature than I thought. Perhaps I had not made clear the arrangements betwixt you and I. While we are here, and together, you are mine and mine alone. I had procured some ratafia among your refreshments, but given your inebriation, I think water best."

  He lifted her head again and bade her drink. "It is naught but water," he said, taking a sip to demonstrate it was not poisonous.

  He presented the water to her once more, and this time she drank it readily, hoping it would dilute the thickness in her head.

  "I'm sorry," she mumbled after she had finished.

  "Sorry that you were caught?"

  Well, of course that. But she did not speak anything that might perturb him.

  "I am disappointed that you found it necessary to abscond my company. Though you are a novice, your wantonness and willingness impressed me till now. But you have apparently found me lacking."

  She furrowed her brow, perplexed.

  "My company was insufficient for you as you chose to seek that of another."

  "You frightened me," she confessed.

  "And you did not find the footman intimidating."

  "The footman?"

  "Yes, I found the two of you in the cellar, your legs spread wider than a slut's beneath him."

  Her eyes widened. "I did not…" Her mind strained to recall what could have transpired.

  "When I discovered you missing," he said, "I went looking for you. By chance, I came across your friend, Diana. She told me you were in the wine cellar with a friend."

  "I can't remember," Trudie protested. "I would have–I don't even know the man!"

  "Then it is all the more naughty and wanton of you."

  Dear God, had she committed adultery with a second man in one night? She remembered the champagne. Regret, its brutal blades twisting inside of her, made her want to curl in a corner and disappear. How could she have done such a thing? She should not have allowed herself to consume so much wine. Coming to Château Follet was the most grievous error of her life.

  "I suppose you could affix the blame upon your intoxication, but can you truthfully say that you would not have lifted your skirts beneath the footman were you sober?"

  Trudie was at a loss for words because she felt as if she no longer knew herself. Her silence seemed to displease him for his lips formed a grim line. "I promise you, after we are done, you will not want to desert me again."

  *****

  Trudie groaned. This did not bode well. He caressed then squeezed her breasts, tweaking each nipple between thumb and forefinger. She was fully awake now.

  "Such lovely breasts merit attention," he said.

  She took in long, loud breaths through her nose as she watched him go to the sideboard and retrieve a bottle. Ambling to her, he set the bottle on the nightstand. He uncapped it and poured out what appeared to be oil upon his hands. "Wi
th this, you shall need to remain naked for some time, lest you wish to soil your garments.” He smiled, as if he wanted her to be always naked. “My God, you have lovely teats. We must anoint them."

  He rubbed his hands together over her, droplets of oil flecking her bare skin. With feather-light strokes, he eased his hands on her chest, first under her breasts, then on the sensitive flesh and nipples. The warmth, nay tenderness, of his touch caused such a war of sadness and tenderness that she could not move. Then his hand wandered between her thighs, prying apart the folds to reach that nub of betrayal. She strained and jerked against the ropes. He would undo her once more. He slapped a breast to still her and she did her best to settle her body, but it was no easy feat for that little nub of flesh held such potency. Even the gentlest stroke of his finger was agonizing. She did not understand how it could be so when apprehension still gripped her.

  "I want you to spend for me."

  She shook her head. How could she knowing what she did, and he did not? “No.”

  To her dismay, he dotted more oil on his fingers and worked at her nub. The oil slicked and warmed in such a way that she could not bear it, yet she arched into his touch. These sensations so echoed those in her mind and heart that all she craved was release, and he could give that to her, if she would let him. He stopped his touches. “You will spend for me now, I think.”

  She nodded, relief washing over her when he again resumed his attentions. He caressed her between the legs. “And do not presume to fool me,” he said. “I know enough of your body to discern whether it has truly spent. You have no wish to deceive me.”

  His thumb pressed upon that most sensitive rosebud. Pleasure flared. To her surprise, his continued fondling had caused her to grow wetter than ever. What did this mean? Why was this so? As he strummed her traitorous bud, he teased the opening of her slit. She was still a little sore from his earlier penetration but found herself wanting him to enter. She shivered when his digit passed over the opening and moaned when he sank a tip inside. His entry both satisfied and stoked the lust burning within her.

  “Allow the pleasure to prevail,” he coaxed.

  She shook her head. She deserved no pleasure, ought derive no pleasure from what he did to her. Spending would give him the false indication that she wanted this treatment. But concentrated shudders went through her when he curled two fingers inside her.

  Good heavens! How was he able to draw such intensity, his fingers eliciting reverberations as if her body was a tuning fork he had struck?

  “I think you will spend, whether you desire it or no,” he commented.

  He spoke true. She could not fight against the tide, her body now jerking of its own accord. The wave would slam into her, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it from crushing her, till she became naught but a bundle of vibrating nerves, thousands upon thousands of nerves.

  His fingers stroked and stroked, past her wails of dismay as her body triumphed, still buried inside her even as she writhed and flailed, unable to contain the burst of pleasure.

  “My God,” he breathed.

  How she had managed to remain in one piece, one body, she knew not. She quietly sobbed, partially in glee, grateful for the unprecedented euphoria, and partially in sorrow, for having lost her battle.

  But it was a most sublime loss.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LEOPOLD BEHELD HIS WIFE. The blush of arousal colored her rounded cheeks, and her thick lashes fluttered as the last wave of ecstasy moved through her. Naked, her hair in disarray, she had never looked more beautiful to him. He slid his fingers from the warm, wet clutch of her quim. Her head lolled, as it had when he had carried her unconscious body from the wine cellar to this room.

  Anger pulsed in his groin as he recalled the scene he had stumbled upon over an hour ago. He had brought a tray of lemonade, sweetmeats, and biscuits to Trudie's chamber, excited for all that he intended to show her, proud that his timid wife had blossomed into such a wanton, only to find the room empty. She had left without permission.

  At first, he had felt remorseful. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her. She would have to pay the price of disobedience, but his ire had not been raised until he saw her, his cousin Diana, and two other men heading to the stairs that led to the kitchen and cellar. From her unsteady gait, he could see Trudie was in the cups. He had never witnessed his wife inebriated. He suspected it was because of Diana, who had laughed and giggled loudly, as she clung to the arm of her paramour. Leopold had reminded himself to speak with Charles, her husband, to keep a tighter leash upon Diana. He would not normally have cared so much except for her influence upon Trudie.

  Leopold had waited for the foursome to return, but only Diana and her paramour, holding a bottle of champagne, emerged. After waiting a few minutes more and still Trudie did not show, Leopold had hurried downstairs to find her in a daze, her legs spread wide, in the corner of the cellar beside the racks of wine. A young man—one of the footmen—knelt before her, holding his erection. He had scrambled to his feet when Leopold had barked at him.

  Grasping him by the front of his linen, Leopold had threatened to kick him out of the Château, before tossing the servant away. Leopold had felt the veins in his neck throb. He was cross with the footman for pressing his advantage with an inebriated woman and at the foolishness of his wife. How could she have allowed herself to become so intoxicated? He would not have thought Trudie to possess a reckless bone in her body. Here at Château Follet, however, her qualities surprised him. But, for certain, she would never have come to the Château if not for Diana. Leopold had had a mind to deliver the lesson Diana merited. He doubted Charles capable of doing so properly.

  Leopold eyed the chamber he had brought Trudie to. Trudie was completely new to Château Follet. Her unease and discomfort when he had first seduced her this night had been obvious.

  But she needed to be taught a lesson. To his surprise, she had wanted it. Wanted the corporal sensations to drown her feelings of guilt. Though she had only had congress with her husband here at Château Follet, in her mind, she had lain with a man other than her husband. In her mind, the adultery was true. At times, he had thought she might recognize him from behind his mask. A few times, he had forgotten to disguise his voice. But she had been too lost in her debauchery to notice. And now, she had spread her legs before one who was most definitely not her husband. A servant. Her wrongs tonight were now many. She did not deserve the pleasure he had granted her body till now, but he needed to ascertain that the fear he had seen in her eyes would not overwhelm all that he did or all that he was yet to do, and the rapture would help sustain the education that awaited her.

  He took in the scent of her arousal upon his fingers, then slid them over her plump lips that she could taste herself upon him. She furrowed her brow.

  “Where are your manners?” he asked.

  Seeing the confusion in her countenance, he tugged on a nipple. She gave a cry before mumbling, “Thank you.”

  “Much better.”

  She whimpered as he rolled the aching little buds between his thumbs and forefingers, making her breasts protrude. Her areolas were the largest he had ever seen. His arousal stretched as he gazed upon her beautiful bosom.

  “I was most sorry to find you gone when I returned,” he said, noting that she did not meet his gaze. “My pride was further wounded when I discovered you with the footman. I had no notion you are such a gluttonous little whore. One cock is not sufficient for you, but it is my aim to give you more than enough.”

  She had looked up at him in alarm when he had mentioned the footman. Perhaps she did not remember. It mattered not. He began to unbutton his fall.

  “Tell me, how did you enjoy congress with the footman?”

  “I did not,” she protested

  “You did not taste him before you invited him between your legs?”

  Her lips, sweet and plump, formed a frown. “I could not have—I would not have…”

  He stroked th
e member he had freed from his breeches. Her breath grew uneven immediately upon seeing it.

  “What would your husband think if he knew you had been given a gown of green by a common servant?”

  She shook her head. “I was—I had consumed too much wine. I did not anticipate the effects of it. I would not have willingly submitted myself.”

  “No? You were wet for him.”

  He saw her mind reeling.

  “There was no denying the evidence of your wantonness. I discovered much of it dripping down your thighs.”

  She flushed crimson. “That must've been because…”

  “Because of what?”

  She swallowed. “Because of what I saw earlier.”

  “What did you see?” he inquired, intrigued.

  She lowered her gaze. “I witnessed a woman being pleasured.”

  “Indeed? How so?”

  “By a man.”

  “And how did he please her?”

  She hesitated until he tweaked a nipple. “He was settled between her legs.”

  “And you found the scene delightful?”

  When she did not answer, he pinched her other nipple.

  “I did.”

  “Did this woman enjoy being taken before others?”

  “She appeared to.”

  “Do you?”

  “Please…”

  “A lascivious harlot such as yourself must have enjoyed bearing witness.” He pointed his erection at her lips. “Come. Demonstrate your prurience.”

  “But I—”

  She stopped when he reached for her nipple. She opened her mouth. As with the first time, she gagged at the unnatural intrusion, but he held her head in place, forcing her to find a way to adjust. She wrapped her lips over his rod, and he closed his eyes to relish the beautiful warmth embracing him.