by Ava Sinclair
She thought of sex, of how his cock had moved back and forth so often in her pussy, of how good it felt. She thought of how Benedict stiffened before filling her with his seed. He was moving faster now; how long could it be before he filled her mouth as he filled her pussy? And what would she do?
“When he spends, swallow it,” Thomas was saying, his voice thick with need. “This is how you show your obedience to us, Lucy.”
She could not help but to touch herself as her head bobbed up and down on Benedict’s cock; his excitement was feeding her own, and the closer he came to coming, the closer she came. By the time his warm tribute flooded into her mouth, she was ready to swallow, drinking from him as if drinking his seed would sustain her building orgasm. When the last drop was gone, she moved her head away and threw it back, her fingers working her clit as she cried out. Her eyes closed in rapture, and when she opened them, it was to the sight of both her men looking down at her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked breathlessly.
“Oh, no, my dear,” Thomas said. “I believe we are thinking the same thing, which is that you are the most amazing woman we have ever known, and we are so very lucky to call you ours.”
Chapter Thirteen: A Nefarious Plan
Nathan Stiles considered himself a patient man, but this day had been testing his resolve. Everything was in place now that he’d finally secured Judge Bonham’s signature on the paper transferring custody of Lucy Priven to himself. Stiles had slid it in among other papers. As usual, Bonham signed off on one order after another without even looking at them. Afterwards, Stiles tucked the papers into his satchel as he always did, planning to file all of them away—with one important exception. The order he would present to the doctors at the home he’d visited two weeks earlier. He’d stood outside, posing as a census taker until he’d encountered a housekeeper going inside. He’d questioned her to be sure Lucy was still in residence, and had gleaned enough information to ascertain that she was. Today was the day he’d fetch her to a new home, where he’d keep her pending testimony against Bonham. And after that? He smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he’d tumbled something so sweet and innocent. He was looking forward to it.
But his plans to leave were being thwarted at every turn. It was approaching five o’clock and Bonham was still giving him picayune tasks, and the secretary felt himself growing edgy.
“Something wrong?” Bonham was scowling on the heels of asking his man to pen another letter before leaving.
“No,” Stiles said, trying to keep his tone in check. “I was simply hoping to end my workday early.”
“Big evening planned with the ladies?”
Just yours, Stiles thought, but instead managed a fake smile. “With luck, Judge Bonham.”
“Well, if you can complete this one task without another heavy sigh, then I shall relieve you for the day, Nathan. But may I remind you that you should count yourself fortunate to be in my employ. A man of your lowly beginnings, and no education, could have done worse…”
Stiles swallowed the urge to tell Bonham how much he hated him, and how much enjoyment he would take in seeing him fall. But instead, he fixed his employer with what he hoped passed for an appreciative smile.
“Of course,” he said. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of how to repay you.”
Judge Bonham looked up from his desk, regarding his trusted secretary quietly. “How kind of you, Mr. Stiles.”
The secretary’s day had ended soon after that, and ever meticulous, he checked to make sure everything was in place for his plan. His second time fetching Lucy Priven would be far more satisfying than the first. He smiled as he thought of cornering his disgraced, powerless employer sometime in the future to describe how it felt to fuck Lucy Priven. He imagined the impotent rage of an impotent man, imagined the puffy face flushing red, imagined the spittle flying from Bonham’s lips as he issued threats he could not carry out.
The only thing playing against him now was the weather. A cold sleet was falling over London, hard enough that his driver asked if they could run the errand he’d hired him for early. But Stiles was adamant that the man drive him in the dark. If there were protests or trouble, he didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone on the street. Not that he expected trouble; why would two doctors defy a judge’s order for the sake of a simple girl. But one never knew.
Relentless sleet was pattering hard on the carriage top by the time Stiles pulled up outside the home housing the offices of Dr. Thomas Allard and Dr. Benedict Crane. Stiles pulled his coat tight around his body as he approached the door of the house and knocked.
* * *
“Did you hear a rap?” Lucy looked up from the butterfly she’d been examining through the magnifying glass before carefully laying the creature’s preserved body back in its case. She and her guardians had been examining Thomas’ collection, a favorite evening pastime since he’d first shown her the little fly trapped in amber. At first she thought she’d imagined the rapping, but no, there it was again.
“I’ll check,” said Benedict, rising and heading to the door. “Weather like this tends to bring folks looking for help.”
He disappeared, and Thomas was just about to quiz Lucy on the name of a bright blue butterfly when they heard raised voices. Lucy looked to her guardian, whose face registered concern.
“Lucy, stay here,” he said, but as soon as he left the room she waited for only a moment before padding out after him. When she reached the top of the stairs and looked down into the foyer, her blood ran cold as her deepest fears were confirmed. There stood Judge Bonham’s secretary, his handsome face smug as a distressed Dr. Crane looked at a piece of paper.
“What’s going on?” Thomas had reached the two men now.
“This man is with the courts. He says Dr. Litman lied to us and Judge Bonham never transferred custody to St. Bart’s. He says he has an order correcting the mistake.” Benedict handed Thomas the paper.
“Dr. Litman assured us the exchange was legal,” Thomas said.
“Then he grossly misinformed you. Where’s the girl?”
“She’s not going with you.” Thomas’ voice was tight. “We saved her from St. Bart’s. Her very abandonment there would have been a death sentence if we’d not taken her!”
“You have no choice,” Stiles hissed. “Need I remind you this order is signed by one of the most prominent men in London, a man with the power to have you both incarcerated for kidnapping? Do you want to join Litman in a scandal that will ruin your medical careers as it will his?” He paused. “Give me the girl.”
“No.” Now Benedict was speaking. “Order or not, we will not take the word of a man who shows up with a claim and an order. If you’re an associate with the court, then it’s the court we’ll answer to. Not to you.”
“You’re a fool, man,” Stiles said. “Get the girl. She’ll prove I am Judge Bonham’s personal secretary. Get her. Now!”
“No,” Benedict said. “She’s safe upstairs and that’s where she will remain.”
“This is your last chance.” Stiles’ voice was hard-edged now. “Judge Bonham has ordered me to tell you that if you do not relinquish this girl to me, tonight, you will be held in contempt and thrown in jail!”
“Then so be it.” Thomas took a step toward the man. “But we will have to hear it from him!”
As the argument escalated, Lucy turned away and hurried to her room. It was clear to her what she had to do. As she donned her cloak, she looked around at the surroundings, trying to commit them to memory. Her doll Dorothy lay on the bed, and Lucy picked her up, hugging the toy tight.
“Don’t forget me,” she said. Then, wiping her eyes, she headed from the room and downstairs. The men were still arguing, and Thomas was inches from Nathan Stiles’ face now.
“…and you’ve given me nothing to prove that you are Judge Bonham’s man. So why should I believe you?”
“Because I can confirm it.” Lucy watched as the men all fell s
“Lucy…” they began together, but she continued talking.
“I will not allow you to be destroyed for my sake. You’ve already done more than I could have hoped. If you want to plead for me, then go to the courts.”
Stiles reached out and took Lucy by the arm, pulling her to him as he victoriously faced her guardians. “I’d strongly suggest you not challenge this order in court. At the very least you’ll be stripped of your profession.” He paused. “Forget this girl.”
“Lucy!” Her guardians’ calls followed her as Stiles opened the door and pulled her into the night. Lucy looked back and called to them as they appeared on the stoop.
“Don’t try to follow!” she cried. “Do as he says. I’ll not have you ruined for my sake.”
Then almost as suddenly, she was halted in her tracks. A coach had pulled up behind the one Stiles had arrived in, a finer one. The door opened and an unmistakable figure emerged. Lucy struggled to keep from fainting. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Stiles addressed the other man.
“Judge Bonham…” His tone was one of surprise. In the shallow light of the gaslight, her captor’s face was almost pale. But Bonham’s was flushed with anger.
“Stiles,” he spat. “I can see now I was right to follow you. Your behavior of late has been beyond suspect.” He looked at Lucy. “What are you doing with this… this… whore?”
Now Benedict and Thomas were on the walk. Thomas held out the order. “Delivering this,” he said.
When the judge looked confused, Benedict hurriedly told him of how Litman had transferred Lucy to their custody from St. Bart’s, an action they’d believed legally binding until Stiles had appeared to dispute it.
The judge was appearing more agitated, his beady, angry eyes looking from Stiles to the doctors and then to Lucy, who seemed to attract his particular ire. For a moment, he seemed unsure of where to focus his attention before settling on his secretary.
“You… you… rabble. You forged an order to grant yourself custody, but to what end? Wait. Let me guess. You mean to bring me down by using this little baggage’s testimony against me. Well, mark me. It won’t happen. I’ve already sent for the constables, and I’ll see you put away for conspiracy, along with this little bitch!” The judge, enraged, flung himself at Stiles at that moment. “You vile bastard. That I ever even lifted you from the gutter…”
Lucy leapt back as the men struggled on the icy walk and suddenly Stiles flung the judge away. Archibald Bonham slid backwards, and for a moment it looked as if he’d right himself. But then he fell, striking the back of his head against the walk with a sickening thud.
“Jesus!” The driver of Bonham’s cab leapt from his seat. “You’ve bloody killed him!”
Lucy was shaking as she watched the scene unfold. Two constables were running toward them, and Thomas was kneeling to take a pulse. Stiles’ cries of objection filled the night as the driver quickly gave an account of the secretary pushing the judge to the ground as they argued. Thomas looked up at Lucy and Benedict before turning to the constables.
“He’s dead,” he said.
“No!” Stiles said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”
“Killing a judge?” The constable shook his head. “You’ll hang for this, and all your airs won’t save you, Stiles.”
Lucy turned, burying her face in Benedict’s chest. “Oh. It’s a nightmare! And it’s all my fault. Now the law will investigate and I’ll be returned to St. Bart’s.”
“Not likely,” Thomas said in her ear, and opened his hand to reveal the order from Stiles that he’d taken from the judge when he checked his pulse. “No one has to know this exists. The only one who does is the one from St. Bart’s.”
“But Stiles…”
“What?” Benedict said doubtfully. “Do you really think he’ll compound his situation by admitting to this forgery? There are witnesses now to what he did. Anything he says will only make things worse for himself.”
Lucy looked down at the dead body before her. The man who’d sought to destroy her had been destroyed himself by a man who was just as cold.
“I cannot feel pity for him,” she said. “Is that wrong?”
“No,” Thomas said. “Pity is best reserved for those who deserve it. Let’s get inside.”
Chapter Fourteen: Safe at Last
There was an inquest, but the driver’s testimony left no doubt in the court’s mind that Stiles was responsible for the judge’s death. Even though Bonham had enemies, in the end not everyone was as loyal to Stiles as he wanted to believe. When the gavel fell, they abandoned him as the expendable bastard Judge Bonham had always suggested he was.
Posthumously, Bonham was savaged. Dr. Litman produced the order proving that the judge had indeed relinquished custody of his wife and ward to St. Bart’s, and upheld St. Bart’s right to transfer it to the doctors who wanted to study Lucy. Both Dr. Thomas Allard and Dr. Benedict Crane testified that Lucy had been unfairly committed to the asylum, and in their professional opinion did not suffer from the disease of nymphomania.
Without going into the particulars of their relationship, Lucy testified to the kindness of the men who’d saved her and pleaded to remain in their custody. The court agreed, as the presiding judges all agreed that the fragile young woman would likely benefit from the ongoing care of the two noted physicians.
The harrowing ordeal was over at last, and when the doctors returned home with their ward it was as a secret family no longer under threat of any kind.
“I’m so glad it’s over,” Lucy said, shaking out her bonnet before removing her cape.
“It’s not entirely behind us,” Benedict said, casting a glance at his friend and then back at Lucy. “There’s the matter of your disobedience to discuss.”
Lucy looked at them with wary surprise. “My disobedience? What do you mean?”
“You were told to stay in the parlor the night Stiles showed up. We were fortunate that he did not take you. But had things not turned tragic for Judge Bonham, then they could have turned even more tragic for you.”
“But they didn’t,” she objected.
“That’s beside the point,” Thomas said, removing his coat to purposefully roll up his sleeves. “You were told to stay put. You disobeyed. And what happens when you disobey us, Lucy?”
Lucy reflexively put her hands behind her as she began to back away, and then startled when she backed into Benedict, who held her fast as his friend sat down on the sofa and beckoned her over.
“Please don’t spank me,” she said fearfully. And she was indeed afraid. But she also felt the twinge of excitement that only heightened at the words Benedict whispered into her ear.
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter, sweet Lucy,” he said, and she shuddered as he handed her over to Thomas, who pulled her across his lap.
The midday fires had not yet been lit, and the air of the room was cool on her upturned bottom. But it wasn’t long before her bottom was heating up as the room filled with her cries of contrition.
Thomas was as methodical a disciplinarian as he was a lover, and his hand was unflagging as he targeted first the crests of her buttocks to thoroughly redden them before moving down to the soft, tender flesh just above her thighs.
Lucy thrashed her legs wildly as she bawled like the little girl she’d become to them. She was completely unaware that her kicking legs gave Benedict a full view of the pussy her guardians kept shaved, or that he could see how wet she was becoming despite the sting of the spanking.
Only when she went limp in complete submission did Thomas cease the torturous punishment and drop a soothing hand onto her throbbing bottom.
“There, there now,” he said, carefully righting her to cuddle in his lap. “All is forgiven.” He kissed her gently on her mouth.
“But I still don’t feel all is well,” she countered between hitching sobs as she charmingly wiped away tears.
“What will make it better?” he asked.
“Make love to me,” she said almost desperately. “Now that this ordeal is over, let this punishment mark a new phase for us. Let me begin anew feeling safe and completely yours. Take me… completely.”
Completely. She was asking for something they’d discussed, something that was to come. That morning before going to court, Benedict had reluctantly eased out the largest plug he and Thomas had been employing to stretch her bottom in preparation of taking her final virginity. She was ready, and was all but begging them to consummate this last stage of their sexual bond.
Benedict nodded to Thomas, who lifted Lucy in his arms. The three went upstairs to Benedict’s room. Lucy had never felt more loved than she did as the men undressed her together, kissing every inch of skin as it was bared. Thomas dropped between her legs as her pantalets were removed, burying his face between her legs to lap and nibble at her little clit until it was coaxed from beneath its fleshy hood. As he teased her there, Benedict laved her nipples with his tongue.
The first of many orgasms she’d have that day was so incredibly sweet. She was soaring, and her men were there to catch her when she crashed into a blissful vortex, and all too willing to push her back up to pleasure’s peak.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Thomas asked, his mouth hot in her ear. She nodded and he handed her over to Benedict, who would take her bottom first just as Thomas had taken her pussy.
He bent her over the bed, and she looked back to see him quickly divest himself of his clothing. Benedict’s cock was harder than she’d ever seen it, and as he worked it with his hand, Thomas stood beside her, dipping his finger in her pussy and rimming her bottom hole with her own natural juices, readying Lucy for his friend.
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