“You are a quick student and have improved much in so short a time,” he commented when he began to saw his rod in and out of her orifice and felt less of her teeth against him. Pulling back, he aimed his cock at an angle to see the tip pushing out her cheek. “Your husband will be much pleased. I think he would not have expected his wife to swallow perform so well.”
He pulled out of her mouth and wiped the moisture across her lips. “You must promise to take your husband’s shaft often so that your instruction here will not go to waste.”
When she did not answer, he wrapped her hair around his right hand and tugged her gaze to meet his. “Promise.”
She stared, distraught. A tear seemed to glisten in the corner of one eye. He did his best to ignore it, reminding himself that she had brought this upon herself.
“Promise,” he repeated.
“Please…”
“He will not know to ask it of you. Thus, you must offer yourself to him. Does he not deserve some manner of benefit from your adultery?”
Her distress disappeared for the moment, replaced by anguish. “What benefit have I derived from his?”
He stifled his guilt and replied, “It is common for husbands to take mistresses.”
“And for that his wrong is less than mine?”
“No,” he said after a moment’s consideration, “but was your motive in coming here to right a wrong or to match his infidelity with your own?”
She looked away and said in a despairing moan, “And for what purpose do you concern yourself? Is it to debase me?”
“Did you not wish for lessons in both penance and pleasure?”
“I will forever rue the day I came here,” she whispered. “My soul is eternally damned.”
“Did we not establish that your lessons may serve several purposes.”
“Your purposes?”
“If you could atone for making your husband a cuckold, would you?”
“Yes.”
“You indicated an interest in pleasing your husband. Do you not wish to please him in the bedchamber?”
“He is satisfied by another,” she muttered.
“You wanted to be more proficient than his mistress.”
“It is not possible.”
Hearing her dejection, he knelt down to meet her gaze. He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “I promised you that I could teach you all you need know. Your husband will want for no other.”
The prospect obviously tempted her, but she murmured with doubt, “It is of no use. His mistress is far prettier—”
“Ah, but your husband has not seen how beautifully you spend. Its beauty would rival that of Helen of Troy.”
Her breath stalled.
“I assure you your husband would be eternally grateful to me.”
She shook her head. “You mock me, sir. It pleases you and serves you to have me your willing whore.”
“What is to be gained if you were left to yourself now? So that you might nurse your wounds, your shame, and crawl back to your husband a lesser wife than you were before? Or do you wish to learn how to pleasure a man so that he desires you with every fiber of his being?”
“Whores can be had anywhere.”
“Not your sort.”
When she said nothing, he added, “I promise your husband will be pleased, and I do not make promises lightly.”
He rose and pointed his erection once more at her mouth. She stared at his cock in silence, then opened her mouth. In triumph, he shoved himself in a little too harshly. She choked. He waited till her coughing settled and inserted himself more slowly this time.
“Lick the tip,” he directed. “Now the crown. Suckle it.”
He groaned in approval as her tongue circled the flare of his cock before she wrapped her warm, wet lips about him. He pushed himself in deeper.
“Harder.”
Her cheeks caved inward in her efforts. A thrill shivered down his legs. He shoved himself deeper. A part of him still wanted to punish her with his member, but he forced himself to retreat. When she had collected herself, he slid himself in gently. Her lips encased him.
“A little lower,” he encouraged.
She sank further down his shaft.
“Well done,” he praised, “but there is much left.”
She tried to take more of him, but barely took half an inch. He pressed her head down. Seconds later, she began to gag. He gave her a respite before placing his erection before her. She took in the same length before she began to convulse.
“I cannot!” she protested after coming off him. “It is far too long!”
“There is more than enough space in your throat.”
Her eyes widened.
“You must relax your reflexes.”
“Impossible.”
“When you first attempted the Sonata in E-flat Major by Haydn, did you think that impossible?”
“No.”
“Could you play it at first?”
“No.”
“Then why did you not think it possible?”
“I knew mastering it required practice.”
“And I take it you practiced.”
He held his shaft for her. She opened her mouth. He allowed her to take what she could this time. His hand still fisted in her hair, he guided her mouth up and down his shaft.
“Mind your teeth,” he reminded her.
Despite her discomfort, she made a concerted effort to meet his rhythm. He dared to push a little deeper. She stiffened at first and coughed, but he did not withdraw.
“Breathe and relax,” he said.
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and settled about his cock. He thrust himself into her. She did not suck as heartily as his mistress, but her mouth was still bloody delightful. He shoved his hips with increased vigor. A delicious agitation swirled in his groin, mounting in his cods, threatening to implode if it did not find escape. Trudie attempted to remain calm and tried to quell the gagging. He continued to push upon her head until she squirmed and sputtered, but her protests were muffled. His legs tensed, and with a roar, he released the tension coiled inside him. Wave after wave of his seed spilled forth. Her body heaved as if she retched. His seed dropped from her lips.
He shuddered several times before falling a step back. She spat and coughed. A tear slid down her cheek. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at her. Thrice he had taken her mouth. In one night. And never would he have thought to ravish his wife’s virginal mouth. When he had recovered his breath, he gave her cheek a pat.
“Well done, my wench. In the future, you will learn to swallow every drop. It will please your husband immensely.” He was already more pleased than he should be. His attempt at schooling Trudie had turned into something more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOW WAS IT HE had never seen how wanton his wife could be?
Leopold remembered how her cheeks had blushed red as two tomatoes when he had first kissed her hand. They had not had much of a courtship. Having been indifferent to most women he had come across, Leopold had acquiesced to the marriage easily enough. Perhaps if he had taken the time to know Trudie better, he would have sensed this part of her.
But she was such a timid creature. If he had not asserted himself forcefully, her prurience might never have seen the light of day.
This thought tempered the ever present guilt of what he did.
He wiped a drop of his seed from the corner of her mouth and cupped her chin to raise her gaze to his. “Husbands may want an upstanding wife, virtuous and chaste, to parade before others; but in the bedchamber, they all want a harlot. I commend you for your willingness to be your husband’s whore.”
“I am not merely his,” she replied with misery, lowering her lashes.
Guilt twisted in his groin.
“I think he will forgive the trespass once he sees how you have been changed.”
“An easy statement for you to make, sir. You know not—how can any husband forgive adultery? And if he knew th
e extent of my treachery, the depths of my depravity, he would be more than ashamed.”
“How well do you know your husband?”
“Our families have been close for generations.”
“And you are thus privy to his most private inclinations, his thoughts and sentiments?”
Trudie became silent.
“If he were a man of such high character,” he continued, “would your husband have taken a mistress? He spoke the same vows as you at the wedding, did he not?”
“Yes, but allowances are made for his sex.”
“Should your sex not be afforded the same allowances?”
He realized his words betrayed his own hypocrisy. He had been furious with her infidelity but had spared little thought on the wrong he himself had committed.
Trudie shook her head. “Neither you nor my friend can convince me that what I do is acceptable.”
“Then why do you submit yourself to me?”
“I know not. This Château has clouded my mind. I cannot think properly.”
“Then let us dispense with thinking. It is the purpose of Château Follet to exalt the carnal, after all.”
He reached between her legs and caressed her. She was still wet. He knelt on one knee and put a tongue to her folds.
She gave a half cry, half laugh. “P-Please!”
He marveled once more at the sensitivity of her body before flicking his tongue over her pearl of pleasure.
She convulsed. “Oh, God! God!”
After inhaling her arousal, he pried apart her folds to gain better access at the delightful bud.
“No, no!”
“I think your body wishes to spend again, my naughty Jezebel.”
She shook her head.
He licked at the swollen flesh, surprised she had not yet grown accustomed to the euphoria.
“Pray, it is too sensitive, sir,” she whimpered.
But he continued to stroke her engorged pleasure bud.
“Please!” she begged.
He switched to ply his fingers against her. “Do you not wish to spend?”
“It is…it is always hard…at first.”
“But a good student must spend when her master bids it.”
“No…”
The blood had rushed to his groin, hardening his desire. He put a hand upon her back in an attempt to still her convulsing while he strummed her clitoris.
Stepping away from her, he watched her body quiver, at once wanting and dreading a return of his fondling. He waited to see if she would change her mind and ask him to continue caressing her instead.
He drew a teasing finger along her slit. She shivered violently and moaned.
Her eyes were wide, and he saw her confliction in her furrowed brow. She struggled not to want the natural desires of her body.
Reaching between her legs, he found a spot that made her cry out and her back arch, but she did not ask him to stop. She was as sensitive as ever, mayhap more, and copiously wet. As his fingers worked their torment, she emitted a strange litany of sounds from gasping to wailing to sobbing. Her body twisted, and she began to pant.
Sensing her peak near, he commanded, “Spend, my love, spend.”
Her body quaked, fighting the impending eruption, but his fingers wrested from her that ultimate carnal bliss. She screamed as a paroxysm bowled into her. Arousal surged with satisfaction within him as he beheld her writhing and shaking. Till tonight, he had not known a woman to spend with ferocity.
He was in awe.
*****
As she lay upon the bed, Leopold sat beside her and untied her. She lay immobile He rubbed her breasts, her legs, and her backside, enjoying the suppleness of her body. His member was stiff as a maypole and would need tending to.
After she had rested a while, he said, “On your feet. We will continue with your instruction.”
She sat up and wrapped her arms over her bosom. “Instruction?”
“Did you not wish to be a good little whore for your husband?”
“I can take no more, sir. The hour must be late indeed.”
“But we have hardly begun.”
Her eyes widened.
“There is much to learn if you wish to please your husband.”
“Is this really what would please him?”
“Men are simple creatures, and not a one would reject an offer to swallow his member.”
She was silent, and he took this opportunity to caution her, “Perhaps you will not be so easily swayed by your friend in the future?”
“Perhaps she did not fully understand what transpires here.”
He snorted. “Your friend was once a frequent guest.”
Trudie glanced up. “You know her?” She searched his countenance, perhaps wanting to ask if he had been with Diana before. He had not, but he had known many of Diana’s past lovers, some of whom were quite verbose with their escapades.
“She was never a lover of mine,” he confirmed. “She has a cousin who once visited Château Follet as well.”
She stared at him agog. Her voice wavered. “Her cousin? What was his—or her—name?”
“I prefer to respect the anonymity of the guests here.”
“She has few cousins…”
He held out his hand. “I wish to show you another enjoyment of men.”
Her mind obviously still whirled at the knowledge he had given her, but she accepted his hand. He rubbed his erection.
“What do you intend?” she asked.
He lay down. “Straddle me.”
She knit her brows, perplexed.
“As you would a horse,” he explained, taking her hand and pulling her to him.
She placed a knee beside him. He pulled her thigh across his pelvis till it rested beside his hip. He settled her over him before pointing his shaft at her quim.
“This is most awkward, sir,” she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.
“It is a divine position. Now ride me.”
Hesitating, she adjusted herself over and over again till his patience thinned, and he pulled her thighs wide to lower her body.
“Sir!”
“Worry not. You shall enjoy it, as you have before.”
He thrust his hips up and speared himself into her. She gave a loud gasp and attempted to wriggle off him, but he held her in place. Her wet heat was glorious.
“Ride,” he instructed.
“But how—?”
He demonstrated by lifting her till she came to the tip of his cock, then pulling her down by the hips till she encased his entire length.
“Up and down,” he said. “As if you were riding a horse.”
He assisted the motions till she had a sense of the rhythm. Releasing her, he watched as her breasts bounded up and down. His erection was already hard as could be. He could have spent then and there if he lacked control.
“My legs grow sore, sir,” she complained.
“I did not give you leave to stop.”
He reached up and grasped both breasts with his hands. Soon perspiration dampened her body. Her brow furrowed as she grunted and panted.
“I cannot…it is too difficult to continue,” she pleaded.
He gripped her hips and shoved himself into her till her teeth chattered. Tension fisted in his groin, his release near. Just before the boiling in his cods threatened to spill over, he pushed her off of him, came onto his knees, and allowed his mettle to rain upon her belly. He bucked his hips several times till the last of his seed had dropped. With a shake of his head, he fell beside her on the bed.
“Well done, my love,” he said between ragged breaths. “I vow your husband would be proud.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHE HAD SURELY DESCENDED to a level within hell, Trudie thought to herself as she lay upon the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her debaucher, having spent, lay beside her, breathing hard.
Your husband would be proud, he had said after he had spilled his seed upon her.
Was such a thing possible?
Could Leopold be proud? Not of her infidelity. Of that she was certain he would be furious—or worse, devastated. She tried not to think on that and instead replayed her acts of wantonness. If she had taken Leopold into her mouth as she had done with the masked stranger beside her, if she straddled her husband and rode him, would that have been enough to stay him from straying?
It mattered not if it would. For in coming to Château Follet with her husband’s cousin, Diana, she had allowed herself to be seduced and committed a transgression in the most depraved and wanton manner. The night had devolved from caresses to a dark torment. She had submitted to such things that would have appalled herself but yesterday.
“You think overmuch, madam.”
“I am merely…fatigued,” she prevaricated. Her head did still feel foggy, but that was likely due to the champagne. And it was perhaps a lack of sufficient thinking that had landed her in her current predicament.
He rose from the bed and went to ring the servant’s bell. At that, she sat up and reached for the bedlinen.
“I did not allow you could cover yourself,” he said whilst he pulled on his breeches.
She looked down at his drying mettle upon her belly. “May I at least cleanse myself?”
He grinned. “I like the look of my mark upon you.”
She flushed. “You delight in wantonness.”
“It is part of the allure here.”
“For you.”
“Have you not been aroused?”
She could not deny she had.
“Arousal is an odd beast to which there are many paths,” he continued. “Here at Château Follet, the titillation is driven by the more wanton, the more depraved and wrong.”
“It does not have to be so.”
“You did not have to come here.”
His tone had an edge.
“I did not—my friend did not fully inform me of what transpires here!”
“Yes, it was mischievous of her not to have told you everything,” he considered with a frown, as if he were displeased with Diana somehow, though Trudie could not imagine why. What did a stranger care how Diana conducted herself? Certainly he had profited from Diana’s waywardness.
“Nevertheless,” he continued, “I wonder that she would have brought you here lest she had some indication that you would take to the activities.”
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