Lily Mine

by Joseph, Annabel

  She reached up gingerly and he took her hand in his own warm one, placing it against his rigid part. In all their intense and intimate couplings, she had never simply touched and investigated him. He was so soft and yet so hard, harder even than his strong thigh muscles or his shoulders under her fingertips. His cock was like iron, but with a surface soft like silk. She traced the contours of his shaft until he made a strangled sound. He caught her hand before she moved it away.

  "It's good. Don't stop."

  "Am I hurting you?"

  "I promise you are not."

  Her fingers strayed lower, down to the sac between his legs. The texture of his balls was rougher, hair and delicate skin that wrinkled easily beneath her fingertips. Again he gasped, and Lily knew it this time for pleasure. Impulsively, she drew his cock down in gentle hands and opened her mouth over it, licking around the swollen head. She barely noticed his gasp become a ragged groan, so distracted was she by the feel of him between her lips. She put one hand on his thigh to steady herself and was surprised to feel him practically quivering beneath her touch.

  She recalled the illustration in the book, the man's unparalleled expression of pleasure, and thought happily that she was pleasuring him too. She grew bolder and took him deeper in her mouth, savoring the unfamiliar scents and sensations. His hands came down to rest on her shoulders and then she felt his fingers moving over her hair, caressing and tugging her locks in concert with her own erotic ministrations.

  "Oh, Lily…" His voice was tight with arousal. "God help me, I won't last. Not for very long."

  Lily moaned against his cock, as thrilled by the uncontrolled note in his voice as she was by the thrusting rod between her lips. Words from the story swirled in some distant part of her thoughts. She took him deeper, laving his flesh, as one with her lover. She lapped at him, eager to feast on his manly essence. The drawings in the book seemed amateurish now, rough and cartoonish compared to the living beauty and sensuality of doing this act to him. The words were nothing compared to the reality of his desperate noises, his trembling muscles, his fingers clutching her hair ever more spasmodically. There was a veiled force in his fingertips, a holding-back that both fascinated and frightened her a little.

  Then, without warning, he groaned and pumped his hips forward. Lily tensed but didn't pull away, and a warm fluid filled her mouth, unfamiliar and earthy. His manly essence, she remembered. It wasn't much to feast upon in the end, but she swallowed it because it was of him. Because everything he gave her was beloved and desired.

  He collapsed down to his knees in front of her, spent now and breathing heavily. He took her face in his hands and nuzzled his cheek to hers.

  "Lily," he said in an urgent whisper. "Let there never be shame between us. There is no shame in this, do you understand?"

  She looked at him, her heart in her throat, and nodded. She did understand, perfectly.

  "And if you want to read my books, I'll have them brought down to the bedroom. There is no need to hide away. Between us, always, we will practice whatever intimacies we desire, without shame or secrecy. Whatever I desire, and whatever you desire, beloved."

  "Beloved…?" Lily repeated in a trembling voice.

  "Retire with me now," he said, stroking his thumb across her lips. "I will show you just how beloved you are."

  * * * * *

  He undressed her slowly, kissing every sensuous curve, every familiar hollow. He dipped his tongue behind her ear and then nipped at her lobe, enjoying her tiny shiver. He took the pins and ribbons out of her hair and spread it wide between his fingers.

  "Lie down," he said. "Lie right in the middle of the bed."

  He watched as she obeyed, then set about removing his own clothes. It was early in the afternoon and sunlight streamed through the windows. It was a novelty to bring her here in bright daytime, to see her in all her glorious beauty in the light, rather than flickering candles. He had given Hanover strict instructions for privacy for the rest of the evening, no matter how late the hour. He thought the servants would gossip when the butler passed on the directive. He did not care.

  From the moment he'd seen her barge into the library to talk to Hanover, he'd burned for her. The trip to the attic had been a singularly erotic experience that had only set him more afire. He didn't know why he'd decided to intrude upon her this day. He had known for some time she read up in the attic. He'd simply wanted to have her, he supposed. He wanted her all the time. She was pure unsullied love and lust, and yet innocent. When she had taken him in her mouth so eagerly, he'd nearly died.

  The memory of it made his cock buck and stir to life anew. He pulled her garter ties from the disarrayed pile, as well as his own braces, and set about tying her firmly to the frame of the bed. He intended to play with her a long while and he wanted her feeling powerless through all of it. Not for malicious reasons--quite the opposite. He knew she felt ten times more pleasure when she was bound and unable to get away. She resisted a little as he pulled her legs apart to expose her most intimate charms, tying her ankles tightly so as to preclude any chance of her closing her thighs. He would need access to every part of her, every secret place.

  He checked each tie twice, the silk garter ties at her wrists and the heavier braces securing her ankles. Through all this he worked silently and she did not protest one bit, although her eyes grew wide as he backed away and looked down at her, fisting his cock in a coarse manner that fit his present mood.

  "Don't be afraid, Lily."

  "I'm not."

  He came to her, not even able to decide which part of her he wished to molest first. He pinched one of her nipples, hard, watching her arch up off the bed with a gasp. So beautiful. She eyed him warily as he moved to take the other nipple between his fingertips, then she tried to twist away.

  "Be a good girl. Lie back and let me have you."

  With a small sigh she obeyed and then whimpered as he tortured the other pink nipple.

  "That's good, little one. Do you like that?"

  "No. Yes. Maybe, sir. No…I think I… Ohh…" Her voice trailed off in a groan as he leaned to suckle her breasts. He trailed his hand down her waist at the same time, down to her slick, exposed cleft. He swirled his fingers over her labia, slick with her essences.

  "I have a feeling you like it very much." He brought his wet fingers to her lips and she sucked them just as he'd taught her to. He reached down again to tease and torment her, purposely avoiding the swollen little button she was desperately trying to thrust against his palm.

  "My, aren't you spirited today. I suppose you wish I would bring you off at once."

  "Yes… My lord, please. Please just…just touch me. That would be enough to do it."

  "Touch you where? Here, you mean?" He slid one fleeting fingertip across her slippery clitoris.

  "Oh, yes, please! Please touch me again!" she moaned, her hips surging forward.

  He stilled her with a firm hand pressed to her waist. "You beg so prettily. But I fear I am in a mood for play. Let's see what I can make you do before I give you what you beg for."

  "Oh…" She swallowed a whine and pulled against the ties binding her wrists and ankles.

  He watched her with a half-smirk. "You realize your helpless struggling only makes me want to tease you more."

  "I think it is your perverse nature that makes you want to tease me more."

  "Perverse nature? Oh, I do love nature. It provides us with so many helpful means to torment sassy-mouthed young ladies. Perhaps I should go cut a switch."

  "Oh no, not a switch, please! Switches hurt so."

  "They do, don't they? Perhaps some stinging nettles would do better. Sadly, they are out of season."

  He stifled a chuckle, because she didn't look sad about it at all. "Well, I suppose I shall have to depend on other means to whip you into an appropriate state of longing." Her gaze followed him as he moved to withdraw a slender black whip from behind the bed. She swallowed hard, looking wonderfully panicked.


  "I wonder if a few marks upon your thighs will still those naughty thrusting hips."

  "I'll be still, sir!"

  "I doubt that."

  He tapped her with the thin implement, just a flick of the wrist to bring it down against the most tender, delicate skin of one inner thigh. She bit down on her lip, her face pained, and then yelped when he tapped the other thigh. "It hurts very much there, does it not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Let's see how this feels." Deftly, he smacked it against one tender nipple.

  "Oh no, please!" She pulled at her bonds, which only thrust her breasts up higher, creating an irresistibly beautiful target. He whipped her nipples and breasts with a series of teasing, stinging volleys. Her jerky twists and pleading yelps had him rising to full staff.

  "Hold this please, darling," he said, kneeling beside her on the bed to place the whip between her teeth. "Do not dare drop it."

  She gazed back at him wide-eyed as he lowered his head again to the boldly erect nipples he'd just punished. He licked and bit them, glorying in her throaty moans and the way she clenched her teeth against the very whip he'd wielded on her. She strained to arch her hips toward him, her legs pulled open so she was helpless to soothe the arousal he was sure she felt.

  "Shh, there now, my little filly," he whispered against her neck, snaking his fingers down to tease her cleft again. "The more I try to gentle you, the wilder you become. Did I not tell you I would grant your release when it pleases me?"

  She didn't dare beg him now, with orders not to drop the whip from her mouth. He smiled down at her. "Perhaps we'll try another tack."

  Leaving the whip in her mouth to silence her pleading, he withdrew another implement from the secret hiding place behind the bed. He stroked the long, forbidding instrument with its broad whippy tip. "A crop to tame my wild mount."

  She shook her head but the first stroke was already falling against her thighs. She tensed and breathed heavily against the whip she still held obediently between her teeth. He watched her carefully, letting her process the pain before dealing the next stroke. She moaned and tossed her head as far as she could without hitting the whip against the bed.

  When six bright scarlet marks graced her trembling thighs, he shifted his angle and gave her a devilish look. "Now then…let's try this." He popped her on the right side of her pussy, just beside her cleft. She made a truly desperate sound then, a sound that had him grabbing his cock in delicious bliss.

  "My God, you undo me when you cry like that. I'll have to hear that again."

  He delivered a lick to the other side of her pussy that had her hips twisting like mad. He put the crop down to still her with a hand on either side of her waist.

  "Enough. I want you to be perfectly motionless now. I know it aches, doesn't it?"

  She gazed up at him with pleading eyes, eyes that nearly rolled back in her head as he trailed his hand down to lightly tease her slit. He didn't dare do any more for fear she would reach orgasm before he was done tormenting her. It would only take a moment now. He tsked and shook his head at her.

  "I see that the whip and crop have done nothing to bring my lusty girl to heel. They seem to have had quite the opposite effect." Again he grazed her swollen, sodden center, stroking himself with his other hand before her wide eyes. "I'll put the whips away and give you what you long for, Lily, when you manage to remain perfectly still."

  She nodded jerkily, making frantic sounds of agreement, and indeed held perfectly still.

  "All right, good. Perfectly still, you remember."

  With that, he picked up the crop again and brought the slapper at the end down directly on her glazed button.

  "Ahhhh--oww!" She jerked her hips up and spit out the whip as she thrashed in her bonds. "Please…I beg you--"

  He put a finger over her lips. "Now, dearest. Begging gets us nowhere. That is a lesson I thought you'd learned by now. Shall we try again? Open your mouth."

  He put the whip between her teeth, chuckling softly at the way she appeared to want to spit it back out in his face. "Now bite down and keep those hips still. When you're still, you'll get what you want."

  Again he rose over her on his knees, aiming with the crop. Thwack. Again, her hips jerked helplessly. She made a low moan of desperation in her throat.

  "It's hard, isn't it? And you seem as aroused as ever. But that was better. Not nearly as uncontrolled as last time. Wait a moment. I have an idea."

  He went to the vase on the mantelpiece and withdrew a long-stemmed red rose from the arrangement. "Your lovely flowers, aren't they? You tended these yourself," he mused as he returned with a broad smile. "This rose is quite lovely, but not as lovely as you."

  He tested one of the wicked thorns that still dotted the green stem, feeling a teasing sting. "Beauty…and pain, Lily." He pricked one of her nipples with the most prominent thorn, drawing a whimper from her. She moaned through the next prick on her other nipple, then he held her eyes as he drew the stem inexorably lower, down, down, to rest between her legs. He pressed the thorns gently against her hot, wet slit so she jerked and tossed her head until he lifted the stem away.

  "Perhaps a flower will work to silence you where a whip cannot," he murmured, peeling off the thorns and flicking them over at the fire. When the stalk was smooth, he took the whip from her mouth and replaced it with the stem of the flower. "Now, not one movement. I want to take you, but I won't bend in this. If you want my cock deep inside your tight little cunny, you must obey my wishes."

  Lily gazed up at him, so beautiful and eager, so desperate to do as he willed. Once again he aimed the crop and brought it down upon her vulnerable pussy in a vicious slap. She laid completely still, his lover, his devastating goddess. "Oh, you are such a good, good girl," he breathed.

  He pushed away from her, stalked across the room and grabbed the full vase of flowers from the mantel. Winter daisies and chrysanthemums, rose petals he snatched from their stems. He spread the colorful mass of flowers and petals upon her, upon her thighs and breasts and belly, and took the red rose last from her trembling lips. He drew it down the valley between her breasts, down over the blooms adorning her body. "My Lily, my beautiful flower. How I love you," he whispered. "I swear, I love you more than I can even express."

  "I love you too," she sighed.

  He untied her bonds with impatient, jerky movements and then fell on her. Her arms came around him, pulling him close as she ground her hips against him, no doubt seeking the release he'd denied her in his games. Now she would be satisfied, and he would revel in giving her that pleasure.

  The soft petals and flowers were crushed between them as he slid over her, his cock driving inside her to the hilt. She gasped and moved under him, urging him deeper, spreading her legs wider for his tumultuous invasion. He took her roughly at first, then gentled, reveling in her shuddering sensitivity, only to turn rough and demanding again when she nipped at his ear.

  I love you. I love you. They both said the words in a jumble of whispered moans and kisses. The petals between them heated and softened, giving off an evocative fragrance that only deepened the intensity of their joining.

  He adored her. He couldn't get close enough to her as he pounded her with his hips. She rose to meet him, clutching his shoulders, then his waist and buttocks as he arched into her. Her skin was a sensory treasure, soft velvet against his. He wound his fingers in her hair, pulling, twisting. He kissed her harder, possessing her mouth and biting her lips, then drew back to watch her approach the apex of her satisfaction, made all the more acute because of his torment and teasing.

  When at last her orgasm unfurled she sobbed against his mouth, and he smelled sweetness and redolent flowers. His own orgasm rose from his balls and his shaft and his entire body shuddered with love for her. He pulled out and spilled his seed upon the crushed blossoms on her belly, upon Lily, his flower, blooming on the bed.

  * * * * *

  It was late into the night before they fell away from one a
nother. The bed was a mess of crushed flowers and sticky juices, but James didn't care. He held Lily close and she stared up at him worshipfully from where she rested on his shoulder. She looked beautifully, thoroughly satisfied. God, to keep her forever.

  Some part of him understood that parting was not a possibility now. If she would accept it, he would keep her forever as his mistress, lie with her every night in her bedroom above the shop he built her. If she wouldn't accept him, he would simply beg her until she relented. What would he do if she would not accept him? Would she settle for playing mistress to another woman's husband? Or more to the point, could he ask her to do so?

  "James? What's the matter?"

  He realized too late that his troubling thoughts were showing on his face. He looked down at Lily and stroked her pert nose.

  "I'm afraid it's nearly time for us to go in to London. I have some business to do, and I suppose we must pay a call to your family."

  She looked over at him in surprise. "My family?"

  "Lilliana's family."

  "Oh."

  He heard the note of disappointment and wished he had phrased his remark differently. He teased one milky shoulder with a light stroking touch and sighed.

  "We will be expected in town for the holidays. We shall have to put in a few appearances at the Holt household at the very least."

  "Will they be angry with me? For impersonating their daughter?"

  "I should hope not. They are the ones who wanted to keep her shameful behavior quiet on Claire's account, and they've managed, in no small part thanks to you. They should be worshipping at your feet. But I would not be surprised if you receive a cold reception."

  He couldn't keep the distaste from his voice, and she picked up on it. "You do not like them."

  "We have exchanged some not-so-nice words, to put it mildly. At any rate, it must be done. It would seem strange indeed to the ton if we did not call on the Holts for the holidays and attend a few small parties. But chin up, Lily. I have a wonderful hideaway in town where we can roll around in bouquets of flowers between parties and social calls."