Tasting Candy

by Candy Quinn

  My eyes widen, but that seems only to delight him further. I lick my lips, looking down at his crotch, and I can see the bulge in there already growing. Yet it’s guiltily exciting to me that the mere potential for my ass to be pressing into him is making him grow. It spurs me on as I turn. I’ve never been very good at flirting, if this can even be called that, but something feels innately good about giving Lord Alastair a view of my ass as I bend it down toward his lap. I can feel him devouring me with his eyes, and his hands reach up to my hips, guiding me onto him.

  He’s so big and strong that I can’t help but feel like a doll in his grasp, so easily held and manipulated in his lap.

  He wraps one arm around my small waist, and the other goes to the glass of wine on the table. He picks it up and swirls it around a bit. “Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, 1892,” he says casually, and my eyes widen. I thought I’d glimpsed the label when Beth took it down, but I hadn’t realized exactly what this was.

  That glass of wine is probably worth about half a year’s pay for me, and that’s only a slight exaggeration.

  “A fine year, but I wanted something tasteful to commemorate your first night under my tutelage, dear Maisie,” he says, and I feel my cheeks going almost as red as the wine. “And the taste is...well, have a smell,” he says, bringing the glass close to me. Suddenly, it feels like he’s offering me liquid gold, but that much gold wouldn’t be worth as much. I inhale the aroma, and it smells like the finest, boldest wine with just the right hint of old wood. It makes my mouth water, and I can feel Lord Alastair watching me lust for it, feeding off my desire.

  “You want a taste.” Again, a simple statement from him. It’s like he was willing the sentiment into existence, and I can’t argue. I nod faintly, licking my lips. He lets his hand slide up to my breast, and he gives it a squeeze unexpectedly. Any one of the maids could come in at a moment’s notice, what is he doing?! “Use your words, Maisie,” he whispers into my ear, and my breath catches in my throat.

  “M-may I,” I stammer, “may I have a taste?” His hand slides down to my skirt, and he reaches under, feeling my naked lips wettening, and he sticks his finger into them, making me gasp.

  “Are those the words I trained you to use?” he asks, and I bite my lip, feeling his finger so dangerously close to my clit. I take a deep breath and try again.

  “Please, Master,” I say, my tone begging, “may I drink from your glass?” I feel his cock stiffen under my pussy, and I know I’ve hit the right answer.

  “Good girl,” he praises me, and before I can react, he reaches up and takes my jaw gently, bringing the wine to my lips. I brace myself as he tips the glass towards me, and I taste the wine washing into my mouth.

  It’s the most delicious taste I’ve ever had. Just the right blend of bold, strong flavor tinged with fruit that’s endured for over a century. I take in a breath as his stiff cock gives me just as much pleasure, my hand gripping his leg desperately as he keeps tilting the glass to my lips.

  My mouth fills, and I blush as I realize he’s pouring too much into me, but I swallow down as much as I can, a trickle of the wine running in a bloody trail down my cheek. Before it can drip down my jaw, he brings my face close and licks it from my cheek as he takes the glass away, and I feel a deep groan in his chest.

  “Not a drop wasted, Maisie,” he chides me, and I can feel his grin as the strong drink hits me. Damn it, I’ve always been a lightweight. He tilts the glass again, and as he strokes my pussy, he makes me drink more from the glass, which I do greedily, my instincts taking over all my senses, making me hungry for more of both. His fingering is incessant. The thought of his touch has been in my mind all afternoon, and it isn’t long before I feel my stomach tightening, and as his fingering gets stronger and more regular on my swollen clit, he draws the glass away and up, letting me see the last drop of it on the tip of the glass.

  My jaw hangs open, breathing quickly as I feel the inevitable roiling up in me, and damn it all, he can feel it in me, and he tilts the glass to let the last drop of wine fall onto my tongue just as I feel my orgasm roll through me, the bloody taste of the wine mixing with the ecstatic orgasm deliciously as I melt in his lap, my honey coating his fingers.

  As the orgasm subsides, I feel a dark chuckle in his chest, and he withdraws his fingers from my pussy and brings them to my lips as I lean back in his chest. My eyes are closed, but I taste my honey on my tongue as he puts his fingers in my mouth. I reach up obediently to grasp his wrist, licking every bit of my come from his fingers.

  When he finally lets his hand drop, I’m sitting on a hard cock as he strokes my hair. “Thank you, Master,” I whisper.

  “Something you should know, little American girl from Conwy,” he says, his voice almost menacing, “is that I reward my obedient pets well.” He guides me off his lap, and I have trouble standing as he gets up, finished with his meal. “Follow me,” he instructs, and I’m in no condition to argue as he leads me out of the room and down a series of hallways and staircases.

  Before long, he pushes an ornate door open, and I realize I’m in the master bedroom. My breath is stolen from me.

  The atmosphere of the all-wood room is shockingly warm compared to the rest of the house. The wood is a rich, hearty brown, and there’s a crackling fireplace on the far end of the massive room, gray stone making a gorgeous hearth. The curtains are drawn over the colossal windows, but the centerpiece of the room is the king-sized four-poster bed in the middle, lavish purple sheets set enticingly.

  The maids had said that Lord Alastair’s quarters were strictly off-limits. My heart is pounding harder than ever, but my pussy is quivering with desire as he leads me into the room to the foot of the bed. I expect him to tell me to strip again, but this time, he merely gestures to the bed.

  “Shoes off. On your knees. Now.”

  The urgency underlying that low growl spurs me on, and I fumble at the clasps of my heels before I put my knees on the bed, crawling on it on all fours. The sheets are unbelievably comfortable, the mattress the softest thing I’ve ever felt. I could stand on my knees here forever, I feel.

  And the way Lord Alastair is glowering down at me, I fear that might be the case.

  “You might have another drink from my glass,” he says, undoing the front of his pants as he approaches the bed, and on pure desire, my body starts to crawl toward him, looking up demurely into his dominating eyes. “But you must beg for it, darling. What I would give you is finer than any expensive wine.”

  I let my lips part, my eyes shining in the firelight as I look up at him, utter need welling up in my gaze and my heart as his eyes hold me locked into place. My body arches, trying to entice him, but he smiles at me and makes me feel foolish. I know he has the upper hand here, no matter what silly games I try to play.

  Suddenly, I feel terribly self-conscious, and my eyes fall to his bulge, where his hands are slowly starting to withdraw that massive shaft. Surely he sees me as just another servant, some country girl who’s a dime a dozen. But then his fingers touch my chin, raising my gaze back to his eyes as he looks down on me with a face filled with desire.

  “I don’t give this fine wine to just anyone, darling,” he says, his voice a low husk, and as he speaks, he presses his hips forward, that massive crown brushing against my lips, and I feel my knees weaken with desire as my heart lifts at his praise.

  “Thank you, Master,” I whisper, and I let my tongue out to pass over his cock.

  It’s so warm, warmer than I remember it inside me earlier in the heat and confusion of the first time. I still can’t believe I could give my virginity to this godlike figure, this vampire in a stormy tower. And now his manhood is in my lips. The taste of his cock is incredible, and it isn’t long before I open my mouth wider to let my tongue roll down the bottom of it, feeling it stiffen more as I move it into my mouth.

  Lord Alastair never lets my gaze leave his, my eyes turned up toward him as my mouth stretches for his colossal girth. How did I fit a
ll of this into my virgin pussy earlier?

  Just as his long shaft felt utterly right in my pussy, the taste of him on my tongue is sweeter than any wine could hope to be. I’m not shy when I wrap my tongue around as much of his cock as I can find, my hand going up to his balls and fondling the heavy things, and Lord Alastair’s mouth hangs open as I do, his chest rising and falling as his cock stiffens and pulses in my mouth.

  I may have found my strong suit.

  His twitching is compelling as I start to grow more invasive with my tongue’s probing, bringing as much of the cock into my mouth as I can, feeling the crown touch the back of my mouth, but I’m able to control my reflexes as if I’d been doing this for ages. As I feel a hard pulse in his cock, I withdraw just enough to taste the precum as it beads from his head, and I moan into his cock at the taste.

  Then he reaches around to my hair, giving me a gentle tug for me to withdraw, and I obey, albeit giving him a pouting face. He smiles, wagging a finger at me.

  “Don’t get greedy, darling. I will taste of you, first.”

  Before I can respond, he reaches down and picks me up by the hips, turning me around in his arms to carry me, one hand under my ass and the other at my shoulders. I can’t get over how tall and strong he is—I really am like a doll in his hands.

  He brings me over to a massive plush rug that’s sitting in front of the fireplace, but the heat I feel from its glowing embers can’t compare to the heat between my needy pussy and his whole body. I feel his cock on my ass, and it’s still as stiff as ever, his rock-hard shaft grinding against me and coming to life.

  He sets me down on my back, and I look up to him as if waiting for some new command, eager to please him, but he only glances my way before giving the faintest of smiles and reaching for my thighs.

  I catch my breath, expecting him to penetrate me, but instead, he leans in with his face, wetting his lips as he looks at my exposed, wet pussy, glistening with honey in the firelight.

  He’s so close to it I can feel his body heat, and I just want to push my pussy up into him, to open myself as wide as possible. “Please, Master,” I whine, my voice pleading, “do everything you want!”

  “I will, Maisie,” he states, his grip on my thighs gentle yet firm as steel. “But first, you need to learn what it is you want.” He doesn’t give me a second to ask what he means. He leans in, grinding his face against my pussy, and I feel the faint stubble of his face on my lips, and my pussy clenches, my voice squeaking as I feel my whole body cry out for him.

  He groans into my pussy, hands sliding down and toying with my sensitive inner thigh as he inhales, smelling my honey like he relished the aroma of his wine earlier. Then his tongue comes out.

  The long tongue strokes my cunny, the whole length of it, first plunging deep into its depths before lingering there, probing around and making my whole body convulse. Even his nonverbal commands carry weight, his authority heavy in the air around us. I can do nothing but obey his whims, and he desires that I put on a show for him.

  I bite my lip, pressing my hips up, and he rewards me by hooking his tongue up and teasing at the inner walls of my pussy. He’s more nimble than I thought any man could be with his tongue, and god does it hit just where I want it!

  Then he lets it trail up to the hood of my clit, toying around until it passes over my swollen nub, and I feel an orgasm wrack my body without warning, like he just summoned it up at will. It wouldn’t surprise me. There must be something supernatural about this terrifying, rapturous man.

  His tongue tortures my clit, darting out and in of his mouth in short, quick strikes, and I let out audible gasps and yelps as my body thrashes like a live wire under him. Yet he’s able to keep control of me, his grasp on my thighs tightening as I struggle.

  “Oh, Master,” I gasp, a tear in my eye as the sensation nearly overwhelms me, “Master, I don’t know how much more I can take!”

  “Then I will push you to your limits,” he growls, rising up, and I know I’ve made a terrible, delicious mistake by testing him so, because his cock is thicker than I’ve ever seen it before, and he’s stroking it.

  Rising just enough, he impales me with his cock, and I let out a scream of bliss as an orgasm ripples through me, the swollen cock reminding my body of what I’d just started to suspect was mere fantasy. But now, I can see it, my eyes straining to look down my lacy outfit to the trunk of the massive cock now balls-deep in my swollen pussy.

  The mere sight of it nearly makes me pass out from stimulation. I’ve touched myself before, explored the depths of my body a little, but nothing, nothing is anything like what this...this aristocrat is giving me.

  His cock turns up as he starts to buck into me, his hand going under the small of my back to lift me up and let his crown start to strike my g-spot, that now-familiar golden spot he discovered and claimed as his own, and just like that, I’m useless in his grasp, my exhausted body spent from so many orgasms in one day. Still, though, my pussy offers him more of my honey, his shaft doused in glistening passion as he bucks harder and harder.

  His thrusting and grinding never relents, a practiced talent that he seems to wield like a master artisan with a paintbrush. His fingers dig into my back, and I feel him lifting me up slowly. Finally, he hoists me up, leaning back and letting me rest upright on his stiff cock, where he bounces me effortlessly.

  I feel something more welling up within me, something stronger and more powerful than what I felt before, and it’s written all over my face. I clench my eyes as his bucking pushes me closer, closer, until…

  ...he stops.

  My eyes spring open, and I see a devilish look in his eyes as he holds me still, his hips arched and leaving me perched atop his cock like a trophy. “Please,” I beg, “please, don’t stop!”

  “What was that, girl?” he says, taking a bunch of my hair in his hand and tugging it back, making me gasp. I start to grind against his cock desperately, but he gives me another tug and pushes his cock up farther, immobilizing me. I bite my lip, feeling my body so tense, so desperate, my toes clenching as my whole body cries out for him.

  “Master,” I gasp, “please, Master!”

  He regards me coldly, his eyes looking me up and down, his cock unmoving, solid. My heart pounds out of fear, wondering what he’ll do to me for missing a step. Is this what they meant by his being a harsh man to work for? Hard bosses I can deal with, but this kind of tension…?

  Finally, he nods his chin to the rug. “On your knees,” he orders, and I feel his hands going to my hips and lifting me up.

  My body does the rest almost against my own will. I turn onto my hands and knees, and I arch my back down, pushing my ass up to him like an offering, looking over my shoulder at him and biting my lip at the sight of his looming, massive cock gleaming in the firelight.

  “Maybe there’s potential in you yet, Maisie,” he says, and I feel a sharp slap on my ass that makes me cry out before he enters me fiercely.

  His cock feels so different at this angle, yet just as fulfilling, if not more. Do I like this more? I can’t decide, it’s like being asked to choose between gold and silver settings for a diamond necklace! I justs know that I need him, and I need him bad. My head is swimming with lust, and I won’t be myself until he gives it to me.

  But now his bucking is unrelenting, rewarding me for my obedience with fierce, hard motions, his ramming so perfectly suited to my pussy that it’s less than a minute before my head is sinking to the floor as my arms go weak, feeling my long-awaited orgasm coming closer, so much closer.

  “Not so fast, girl,” he hisses, and I feel him grab my hair, pulling me back and arching my back so much that his cock bucks into a new part of me, and I’m blown away.

  I scream. An honest-to-goodness scream of passion, all the tension of years of being pent-up in that podunk little town, all thanks to this unbelievable man using me for his dark purposes.

  My joy, my utter bliss has an effect on him too, and I feel his balls stop
swinging as they tighten until his seed bursts into me, a deep groan escaping his chest.

  I thought he had spent himself earlier. I didn’t realize a man could have so much in him, even if he was pent up for weeks. Not Lord Alastair. His orgasm was just as voluminous, seed gushing from his throbbing cock so furiously, so blissfully hot and virile, and it doesn’t stop coming. Shot after shot of it empties into my pussy, planting his seed in me, and I’ve never felt so alive, so fertile, so ready to accept everything. All of it.

  When I feel the last shot about to empty out, he pulls out, massaging his cock and gasping as the last spurt of it shoots out across my back and into my hair. It’s like a whip across my back, but sweet and hot rather than painful. A mark.

  I collapse, his seed trailing out of my pussy as I revel in the feeling of him all over me. I listen to his heavy, satisfied breathing, and I close my eyes, ready to fall asleep right there. I want nothing more than for him to scoop me up into his arms and put me to bed with him, just like this.

  But then I hear him rising to his feet, closing his pants, and I turn over just enough to see him regarding me coolly. “Go,” he says simply, and I blink in confusion.

  “Did I-” start, thinking maybe he’s angry at me for not responding to him quickly enough, but he offers me a smile, shaking his head as though reading my mind.

  “You’ve performed excellently, Maisie,” he says simply, folding his hands behind his back. “And now, you will return to your quarters. Do not wash,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the mark of his seed on my back as I rise to my feet uneasily. “You will sleep with that on you.”

  I swallow hard. I should be infuriated by this absurd man, and in some way, I am, but that part of me is overwhelmed by my lust. Something primal in me is warmed by the feeling of his seed in me, and I know I need more.

  So I cross my feet and bend my knees in an awkward curtsy, and he smiles bemusedly before turning to the fireplace, just as distant as the last time he left me. Hastily, I gather my shoes and scurry out the room, my head swimming.