by Robin Gideon
She could see only some of Heath as he stood behind Laine. His face was a bit ruddy with sexual strain as he labored, his pelvis churning, his hands tight on the young man’s hips. Each time he thrust inward and upward, Laine lifted up onto his tiptoes, and his pelvis was thrust forward. Beads of perspiration formed on Laine’s forehead and glistened like erotic morning dewdrops on his chest and stomach. The wet sounds of a pelvis striking taut buttocks echoed off the walls, mingling with Heath’s growls and Laine’s gasps which punctuated each impaling thrust.
I could never let Heath take me there. He’s too big for me…but not for Laine. It may hurt, but he likes it. Would it excite me to have—she closed her eyes and turned her face away, her thoughts too darkly taboo for her to be comfortable thinking them—Heath’s cock in my ass?
She heard Heath, through clenched teeth, utter a single “Fuck!” and she opened her eyes. His powerful arms were wound around Laine’s slender middle, and for several seconds the men were completely motionless, chest to back, pelvis to ass cheeks. The sound of rapid breathing—Heath through his mouth, and Laine through his nose—was all she could hear. Even though the gag was still tied around Laine’s mouth, she could see the faintest hint of a smile touching his features, and there was a dreamy quality to his eyes she hadn’t seen before. His cock, most notably, had lost absolutely none of its rigidity.
Heath stepped away from Laine. He went to the washbasin and, with his back to Celeste, washed himself. Then he untied Laine, and the boy went to the washbasin.
Standing in front of Celeste, with his half-erect penis very nearly at eye level to her and smelling faintly of soap, Heath said quietly, “Now he understands he doesn’t need the count and countess. I’ll take care of him. I’m in charge now. They made him think he needed their hatred. I’ll teach him he doesn’t need them. In time, I’ll teach him he doesn’t need anyone—not even me.” He reached down and curled a lock of her hair around his forefinger. “It’s the lesson he needed to learn. But I wonder, what’s the lesson you need to learn, Lady Celeste?”
Chapter Six
His strangely gentle touch evoked a flurry of memory in Celeste, conjuring images of herself with her hands tied above her head, her body buffeted against the wall of the stable as Heath filled her completely, throwing at her what the duchess referred to as a “barbarian fuck.”
She knew it was wrong—dreadfully, terribly wrong—for her body to become so heated and moist, her skin tingling with anticipation, just because Heath had bound her wrists and ankles. He had taken charge of her body, and her helplessness against him was an aphrodisiac to submissive fetishes she couldn’t ignore.
When he stepped forward and reached around to the base of her neck, his cock was so close to her face she could smell the soap he’d used to wash himself and knew it was the kind she herself used. He removed the gag and tossed it aside.
“You’re a beast,” she said, though she kept her voice so quiet it probably didn’t even reach Laine on the opposite side of the room. She could feel her rapid pulse in her clitoris. If Heath started caressing her there with his tongue, she’d come in an instant. Understanding this, she felt terribly guilty.
Heath grinned, the dimple forming in his cheek. Then he saw something, and his gaze narrowed briefly before his grin became very broad. “Well, well, well!” he said, getting down on one knee near Celeste’s purse. “It would appear as though you, m’lady, are more adventurous than you’ve let on.”
Desperately trying to ignore her own rising excitement, she said as haughtily as she could manage, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She saw on the floor a small, blue bottle. It had fallen out of her purse. Heath picked up the bottle and then went to the table to retrieve the other blue bottle. He held the two together, showing them to Celeste as though to crush any refutation she might put forward. The bottles were identical.
“Greek ointment. I know why Laine keeps it with him.” He grinned wickedly. “And there’s only one reason for you to have brought it with you here.”
Her eyes opened wide, and the blood drained from her face. “Wait. You don’t understand. Heath, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’ve never done that,” she said, her words coming out in a tumbled rush. She knew, as she heard the words with her own ears, that they sounded patently false. “After the last time we were…umm…together—” It was a delicate matter to decide on the right words to describe what they had done. “I knew I would be with you again. At least I knew I wanted to be with you again.” She felt herself blushing crimson. “So I went to see the duchess. She’s my dear friend, and she knows absolutely everything there is to know about, um, relationships with men. She thought it had been so long since…”
Her words simply died away in her throat. Now seated on the low stool, when she looked at her servants, she had literally to look up to them. This was especially disquieting since neither man had so much as a thread of clothing on, and one of which, ironically having the delicate facial features of an angel, was still sporting an erection pointed toward heaven.
“So you haven’t been with men in a while. It makes no matter to me.” He smiled and made a gesture with his hands as though to dismiss all previous facts. “I said you should be punished, and punished you shall be.”
She arched her eyebrows. However erotic she found Heath, her family was a prominent member of London’s ton for generations. She simply would not be punished by a servant.
“A spanking, I think, is in order,” Heath said in a conversational tone.
The word “spanking” caused a frisson of forbidden desire to slither through her body. Hidden beneath the layers of dress and chemise, her nipples became more erect. At the apex of her thighs, her clitoris elongated fractionally, and slick honey lubricated the lips of her pussy. For an instant, she was afraid if she heard Heath say “spanking” one more time in his rich, husky baritone, she would climax without even being touched. Her lust was at a tinder point.
He grabbed her by the upper arms, and as he hauled her to her feet, she watched his biceps bulge briefly and the muscles in his chest flex beneath the thin barrier of skin and hair. Naked, his body was intimidating to look at. While Laine’s slender, athletic body was feline in form, Heath’s physique had been honed and hardened by labors far more backbreaking than anything the young man had ever known.
A moment later, as she put forward what little struggle she could, bound as she was, Heath was sitting on the low, three-legged stool and stretched her out over his naked lap. Her face was very close to the floor on one side of his legs, and her slippered toes touched the floor on the other.
He chuckled. “Lady Celeste, I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I met you.” She felt her dress and petticoat begin moving up her legs, sliding against the silk stockings she had put on just for Heath’s pleasure. “This spanking is a lesson that’s been long in coming, I should think.”
“A spanking? I’m Lady Celeste Ashe Fallon, and I—”
“Careful, m’lady,” Heath said sharply. “You can’t talk your way out of this one. The lesson you’re going to get is the lesson you deserve. But you keep talking like you’re an innocent—when we both know you’re not—and this spanking could go on a lot longer than I had planned. You think about that, m’lady. Think about that long and hard before you toss about any more of your insults.” He chuckled softly. “And your ass isn’t the only thing that might need spanking. Ever had your pussy spanked? And what about them rosy tits of yours? I think those nipples could use a spanking, too.” He chuckled again. “What do you think, Laine?”
Celeste closed her eyes and, for a moment, consciously forced her thoughts to be composed and rational. She was laid out over an incredibly powerful man’s lap, and her skirt was being lifted up her legs with taunting lethargy, creeping up the backs of her legs inch by inch. Her face was very close to the floor, and when she turned her head, she could see chair legs and table legs a few feet away.
She could hear Laine splashing at the washbasin, but she couldn’t see him. With her head and shoulders almost pointing straight down, her breasts threatened to tumble out over the top of her straining neckline.
“Paradise!” Heath said suddenly, joy ringing in his tone as Celeste’s buttocks were exposed.
Oh, God! This isn’t going to stop! Celeste thought as she simultaneously heard Heath’s declaration and felt her dress and petticoat raise above her hips. The garments were bundled together and shoved beneath her bound wrists.
“Take a look, Laine. See these stockings? Pure silk. Only real ladies can afford pure silk.”
His tone was both appreciative and yet mocking. This was an experienced man enjoying himself, but willing to take the time to teach a lesson to a man less experienced than himself. Delicate fingertips glided up the back of her left thigh, and the touch sent a tremor through Celeste. Then a large, warm hand cupped her right buttock, squeezed, and then did the same to the left.
“Ninety-nine out of a hundred men go their whole lives without ever seeing as perfect a woman’s ass as this. Take your time and look, Laine. Memorize how she looks, because if you’re looking at Lady Celeste, then you’re looking at one of God’s perfect works of art in human form.”
A hundred emotions warred within her. She felt humiliated and abused—and how could she not, being bound up with strips of leather and tossed over a man’s lap like a misbehaving child about to get her comeuppance? But she could also visualize herself in her evening gown, her décolletage nearly insufficient to hold the weight of her breasts in her upside-down position. And there was the sure knowledge that both Heath and Laine were looking at her bottom, the cheeks of her ass thrust up high and naked, on display for their perusal and amusement.
But a little voice whispered in her head, Wouldn’t it have been ten thousand times worse if he had insulted your ass instead of singing its praises? Admit it, you would give up chocolate for the season just to hear him say those words again!
She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, it was true. She would give up chocolate for the entire season if only to hear those words of praise and adoration again.
“And Laine, this beautiful ass, these beautiful, pale cheeks, need a good spanking. A spanking severe enough that these white ass cheeks turn pink. And, my good young man, that’s just what they’re going to get.”
Celeste’s reverie was cut short with those words. She arched her back, trying to see over her shoulder. Heath pushed her head and shoulders down with his left hand.
“Fight me and you’ll only make it worse for yourself,” he said in a low tone.
But worse might be better for me, a devilish voice whispered inside her traitorous mind. Worse might be magnificent!
A hand grabbed her wrists and pushed them toward her shoulders, causing her to slide a bit on his lap, her face coming even closer to the floor. And a moment later, without time to anticipate, the stinging slap of a broad-palmed, callused workingman’s hand came down hard on her left cheek.
“Ouch!” she gasped. “Heath, you hurt me!”
“That’s the point, m’lady.”
His palm came down on her right cheek next, as hard as the first time, but perhaps not. It was the shock of the first slap, she decided, more than the sting, to which she reacted. However it was, Heath held her securely, her buttocks up high as his right hand came down with slow precision, heating her ass more and more with each spank.
She didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want to believe this humiliation, this punishment, could have elements of eroticism to it…but it did. Even though her ass stung and throbbed, she found herself anticipating the next slap. And as erotic to her senses as the actual sting of Heath’s big palm against the delicate skin of her bottom was the sound of him spanking her and her own helpless whimpers sounding more and more like pleasure and less and less like pain.
Each time she received a spank, she squirmed on his lap, and she became distinctly, mouthwateringly aware of the long, thick, ever-growing column of hard cock pressing against her stomach.
And then the spanking stopped. Without forewarning, it just stopped. She was so disoriented by a lust her traitorous body was enjoying that when Heath stopped his assault on her buns, she almost asked him, in a complaining way, why the punishment had ended. After all, she hadn’t asked him to stop, and if she was to judge by the rigidity of the erection digging into her stomach, Heath certainly didn’t want to stop. So then, why?
Extraordinary lust, she was beginning to understand, could make the concepts of logic and reason merely words without meanings. The nerve endings in her pussy seemed particularly heightened to the potential for pleasure.
A thick fingertip touched lightly at the juncture of her slit. The digit moved up and down her length, caressing feather-lightly, experimentally. Celeste’s clitoris pulsed with an empty hunger.
“She’s wet,” Heath explained. “Look how easy she lets me in.”
The single finger pushed into her pussy, and the friction was so stimulating she bit her lower lip to keep from sighing. The conflicting sensations of her buns stinging from the spanking, and her pussy tingling from a single finger easing between passion-swollen labia, made her bones melt.
“Get the oil.”
So entranced was she with Heath working his finger in and out of her pussy, and sometimes rubbing against her clitoris in just the right way, that the word oil almost didn’t register in her brain.
Almost, but not quite.
She tossed her head up, but before she could say a word, Heath brought his right palm down on her ass even harder than before. The sound of him spanking her echoed sharply off the walls, and she let out an honest squeal of pain.
“Struggling will only increase your punishment,” he said quietly. “Before you fight back again, think about that, Celeste.”
She heard the floor creaking, the sound of bare feet against wood long since polished perfectly smooth with foot traffic. And then, as though her senses were superhumanly tuned because of the situation, she heard the glass stopper being removed from a bottle.
“Sheer perfection,” Heath said quietly, his tone distracted, as though he was on the verge of a trance.
Two of his fingers were inside her pussy. When she felt cool, thick fluid slide between her cheeks and settle onto her puckered back opening, she gasped softly, and her buns flexed.
“Relax…relax…it’ll be so much easier for you if you relax.”
Heath’s tone was soft, warm. The kind of voice a woman would instinctively trust. Celeste tried to convince herself she shouldn’t trust Heath, but her body accepted his power, his domination, his mastery.
He’s the devil, she thought but did not believe.
Then she felt his thumb. Very, very lightly. Just moving in a circular motion on her anus with almost no pressure at all, while the first two fingers of his hand worked slowly up and down, not moving very far, slipping back and forth between the lips of her pussy.
“That’s it…that’s it…just relax…” His voice was a narcotic. The man was a drug, and Celeste felt herself developing the sweetest addiction.
For the first time, she felt Heath’s left hand leave her wrists and move from her lower back. Slowly, he reached down, his fingertips following her arm until they slid beneath her body. Her left breast, straining against a bodice never meant to modestly conceal a voluptuous breast while the wearer was very nearly upside down, quite suddenly throbbed in anticipation of the servant’s muscular caress. When the long-fingered hand squeezed her breast, she let out a low moan then silenced herself, but not before inadvertently announcing her passion to the men in the room.
Two things happened simultaneously, and Celeste had become sufficiently schooled with Heath’s sensual abilities by this time to know the timing was no accident. The two fingers slipped out of her pussy, but as they began their reentry, his thumb pushed past her virginal resistance, the path rendered traversable by the liberal application of Gree
k ointment. And as Heath’s thumb made its slippery premiere entrance into her tingling ass, with his left hand he pinched the elongated nub of her left nipple exposed above the lowered neckline of her gown.
She did not cry out. Rather, the only sound she made was a sudden inhalation of breath. She inhaled…then unconsciously held her breath.
Never before, from so many different places and in so many different ways, had she experienced such a panoply of sensations. The two fingers easing into her pussy and rubbing against her clitoris could, all by themselves, give her an orgasm. But there was more than just those fingers causing her body to blaze with unprecedented lust. The slick thumb pumping in and out of her ass created a fiery sensation every bit as powerful as those caused by the fingers in her pussy. She had never thought of her anus as the source of pleasure, but even in the passion-distorted delirium Heath had foisted upon her, she realized sexual doors were opening this evening that would never again be closed to her.
“Oh! God…Heath…make me come…please…”
She heard the sound of her own voice, the quiet, frantic desperation, the abject wantonness of a woman no longer in control of her own senses or desires. She heard and felt Heath chuckle. He was in complete control of the situation. It was as though he knew exactly what he had to do, and for how long, to make her have her orgasm.
And she was getting close to her climax. Very close. Her hands were bound behind her at the small of her back. Her fingers twitched convulsively, her fists opening and closing. Celeste moved her hands just enough to feel the reassuring bite of the leather surrounding her wrists.
The only thing she was confident of was that when Heath finally did let her have her climax, it would be a cataclysmic one.
“Laine, she’s ready now.”
Once again, Celeste heard the words, but it took a couple of seconds for them to register. She opened her eyes and lifted her head just a little. Heath’s thumb eased out of her bottom, though his fingers remained inside her pussy, stilled now as Laine got into position.
