His Lordship's Downfall: The Complete Edition

by Josie Litton

  One of many unprepared young stalwarts sent into the breach to help deal with the aftereffects, he still remembered the sights and sounds and above all, the smells of the city in the days that followed. Nitrate and ammonium…burned fuel…wailing people and above all silence which became a sound in its own right, a hollow roar of anguish and despair.

  It had changed him in a way that he had never tried to understand. All he’d been sure of was that afterward he really hadn’t been young any more.

  “I’m very sorry.”

  Softly, she said, “My parents loved each other dearly. I tell myself that at least they were together when the end came.”

  His first instinct was to assume that she had seized on that as a means of comforting herself in the face of what must have been devastating loss. Yet he could not shake the sense that Jane was simply recounting what she had experienced in her life with her parents. To have actually witnessed such love, to be able to testify to its existence, how must that change a person’s perception of the world and what was possible within it? For a moment, he knew himself far poorer in some sense than she could ever be.

  Pushing that obviously absurd thought aside, he asked, “Who took care of you?”

  “An aunt, until she, too, passed. Then I looked out for myself.”

  He wanted to ask how all that had brought her to the decision to become a rich man’s pet but before he could do so, she put down her napkin and stood.

  Holding out her hand, she said, “Who said ‘Satisfy one appetite, wake another’?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Oh, well, then I did. Come.”

  She led him from the folly a short distance to where a blanket was spread out over the grass.

  “Lie down.”

  Arching a brow, he asked, “For a post-picnic nap?”

  “Why? Are you tired?”

  He should have been after the sleepless night and the morning’s work but, looking at her, he felt flooded with strength. “Not in the least.”

  “Good.”

  When he was stretched out on his back on the blanket, she straddled him. Holding his gaze, she lightly stroked his chest. He braced himself when she got near his nipples but instead of tormenting them again, she shifted higher on him.

  Holding her weight on her knees, she raised her arms gracefully and let down her hair. As it fell in a gleaming mahogany curtain, she shook it free with a little toss of her head, then began undoing the buttons of her virginal blouse. He watched, unable to look away, as one tiny pearl after another was released, revealing more of the soft, smooth skin he remembered so fondly. Before she was finished, the crisply starched linen lay open sufficiently to reveal the curves of her luscious breasts.

  Nor was she done. Grasping her skirt in both hands, she raised it until it was bunched around her waist. He was on eye-level with her exquisitely bare cunt when she said, “I want your tongue on me.”

  A single heartbeat and his hands were grasping her hips, moving her into position above him. Holding herself on her knees, she reached between her thighs and splayed her fingers to spread her outer lips. He groaned and swiped the flat of his tongue over her clit.

  Her taste…oh, damn…so sweet… The scent of her…

  “Oh, my god!” Jane gasped.

  Belatedly, he remembered the tongue piercing. He still took it as a grave violation but perhaps…could it be that it had some merit? He redoubled his efforts. Swiftly, she was writhing, gasping and panting as he lapped at her swollen bud.

  “Don’t stop!”

  He had no intention of doing so, not even when she came once and swiftly again. On the contrary, he was determined to discover just what additional powers he had acquired.

  When he speared his tongue into her vagina, she screamed.

  Ah, yes, just there, the stud against that little, ultrasensitive part of her cunt…

  “Aaaahhhh!”

  He felt her spasms on his tongue, felt the pleasure twist through her as she stiffened in his hands. Another long keening wail escaped her before finally she sagged boneless against him and only just managed to roll onto the blanket.

  Blinking up at him, she said, “Good lord.”

  He fought the ravenous turmoil of his own body and raised a brow. “Merely good?”

  “More than that…more than I can bear.”

  With those words, she went entirely limp. Alarmed at first, he quickly determined that she had merely lapsed into a deep sleep. He had a moment to savor his satisfaction at being the victor in their carnal combat--this time--before the restless night of torment caught up with him and he, too, yielded to slumber’s sweet embrace.

  Waking some hours later, as the sun drifted westward and a cooling breeze sprang up, they avoided each other’s gaze and made their way from the folly in a mutually pensive mood.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  BLUE BALLS. Def: Oxford English Dictionary: noun. Testicular discomfort attributed to prolonged sexual arousal without ejaculation.

  Hell’s bells, it was every bit as bad as he’d heard. An aching, throbbing torment unlike anything he had ever experienced before or for that matter imagined. With each passing day, the anguish worsened. A week after awakening to the overturning of his world, his lordship was mired in misery.

  It wasn’t so much the physical experience of sensitivity and tenderness in so vital a part of his anatomy, although that was certainly bad enough. The true problem was that in being so denied, he could think of virtually nothing but what he was missing. Every other higher consideration dissolved under the relentless assault of perpetual, unsatisfied arousal.

  Being a civilized man living at the very heart of the civilized world, he took it for granted that his mind--his intellect and reason, his discipline and training--were supreme over the base drives of his body. But that was proving to be an illusion. Little by little, he was being reduced to nothing more than blind, rutting instinct.

  A sudden possibility occurred to him: Could this be in any way similar to what she, Jane of Arc, cruel Mistress Jane had experienced during the weeks that he’d kept her so constantly edged?

  Horrified by the mere thought, he decided that it couldn’t have been or she wouldn’t have been able to function at all. Unless she had more moral fiber than he did, which was of itself an absurd idea.

  No, his condition was vastly more severe, pitiful really. It was a wonder that he was still breathing, much less all the more valiantly determined to find a way out of the devilish circumstances in which she had placed him. And then punish her. That last part went without saying for all that he felt compelled to reaffirm it to himself over and over.

  He was preoccupied thinking of it as he prepared to go out for the evening. Mistress Jane desired to do so and who was he to argue? All part of the different tack resorted to while he sought a solution to the damnable torque. Such hellish devices were an outrage to any decent society. If they weren’t already illegal, they damn well should be. He would see to it at the earliest possible opportunity.

  Meanwhile, a strategy was taking form in his mind. The more he cogitated on it, the more it appealed to him and the more certain he was that it would succeed. Had she not admitted to desiring him, an extraordinarily foolish lapse on her part for all that it was understandable enough? The solution was obvious; he would have thought of it much sooner if he hadn’t been so pre-occupied with the state of his cock and balls.

  All he had to do was seduce her. Once accomplished, she would be eating out of his hand.

  There was the fact that he had never actually been put to the bother of seducing a woman before. A bit of pleasant flirtation, if even that, was all that had been required for a tumble into bed…against a convenient wall…on the nearest floor…wherever. Still, he could see no reason why he wouldn’t accomplish it readily enough.

  Provided he didn’t get cocky, especially not under the present circumstances. He would be wise to keep in mind that Jane was different from other women. To begin wi
th, she was at least a little mad--not as in angry, which she certainly also was--as in barmy, bonkers, daft, a bit cracked. She had to be for didn’t she have visions, dreams, aspirations, all those awkward idealisms that mucked up life quicker than sand in the gears of the best tuned motor car?

  But then she was also beautiful in a way he had never encountered before. A beauty that came not merely from the pleasing symmetry of her features and her exquisite body but from her character. It had an odd way of shining from within her.

  The memory of her tears when he first awoke and could not accept what she had done to him remained vivid in his mind. As much as he wanted to dismiss her behavior as merely womanish, he was reluctantly concluding that she possessed a rare combination of strength alloyed with compassion.

  Moreover, her resourcefulness and tenacity provoked his grudging admiration. He was even willing to acknowledge a certain fascination with what she would do next; she had such a devilishly depraved turn of mind. Almost a match for his own, if he was honest enough to admit it.

  He was absolutely not attracted to any of that, the very notion was absurd. Still, he couldn’t help smiling as he thought of her.

  Having dismissed his valet--another feckless traitor under Jameson’s thumb and by extension Jane of Arc’s--he stared at himself in the full-length mirror of his dressing room. The bespoke tuxedo was perfectly fitted to his tall, muscular body. His thick ebony hair could have done with a trim but was acceptable enough. He had a bit of scruff but he saw no reason to shave for whatever it was she had planned for the evening.

  Of course, there was the matter of his caged cock jutting from the darkly elegant trousers that could not fasten around it. He was thinking of the extravagant codpieces that Renaissance lords wore and wondering why they had ever gone out of fashion when there was a knock at the dressing room door.

  “Come,” he called.

  Jane stepped into the room. At once, every other consideration vanished from his mind.

  She looked… Astonishing? Magnificent? The living, breathing incarnation of sexual temptation?

  ‘Yes’ to all of the above and then some. The sheer violet silk gown she wore was simplicity itself. Completely unadorned, it skimmed her the length of her body from the small cap sleeves low on her shoulders down over her exquisite breasts and nipped in waist to the swell of her hips and beyond. Her nipples swelled unmistakably against the tissue-thin fabric. Between her legs, he swore that he could see the shadow of her cunt.

  His hackles rose, an expression he had never been familiar with before but suddenly comprehended perfectly. If she thought for one moment that she was going to parade about in--

  No, wait, the impression was misleading. Beneath the violet silk was a pale lining, the same hue as her skin that tantalized even as it concealed.

  The impudent minx! Wherever they were going, she would have men--and some women--seeking her secrets to no avail. He could hardly blame them for trying. The upsweep of her hair with a few stray tendrils left free amid a scattering of tiny violets gave her an appearance of innocence conflicting sharply with her radiant sensuality.

  Studying her, he became aware that she was regarding him just as intently. Or more precisely, his cock.

  Annoyed to be so otherwise disregarded, he said tartly, “I hope you aren’t planning a night at the opera or anything similar. We wouldn’t want to start a riot.”

  She laughed, not at all abashed, and took his arm. “It’s summer; only tourists are going to the opera. But don’t worry; I have something much more entertaining in mind.”

  He was struck by how light-hearted she seemed, no doubt because she thought he had stopped resisting. She was wrong, of course, as she would discover to her sorrow. But not quite yet.

  Quelling his anxiousness as to what she might have planned, his lordship suffered himself to be led out to the waiting Rolls.

  They were beyond the abbey grounds when Jane produced a length of black silk.

  “Bend down a little,” she said.

  “Why?” Awareness of her--the warmth of her skin, her scent, even he fancied the beat of her heart--engulfed him.

  “Because I’m going to blindfold you.”

  “You don’t want me to see where we’re going?”

  “That and because from what I understand, the temporary loss of sight has a way of heightening all the other senses.”

  Resigned--and all the more curious as to what she intended--he inclined his head.

  “Don’t get excited,” she said when the blindfold was in place. “I’m not letting you loose. But I do like a little variety and since this is a formal occasion--”

  He held perfectly still as she fiddled with the cage holding his cock, applying a key to it, he thought. A low groan escaped him as his member slipped free. After so long confined in a state of at least semi-erection, he wouldn’t have blamed the poor thing if it had needed some time to fully recover. But no, its powers of resiliency were as formidable as ever.

  Within moments, Freddy--as he had secretly named his cock at the tender age of thirteen--was happily stretching and arching, preparing to let loose with what he suspected would be a record-breaking ejaculation. A veritable Krakatoa, spewing miles into the air, the reverberations felt on distant continents. He could only hope that the resulting tsunami didn’t wreak too much destruction.

  He was about to reach for a handkerchief when she said, “This will be much more comfortable.” After a moment’s reflection, she amended, “Or at least a little.”

  This? What new torment was she about to inflict?

  The cold glide of a metal ring around the base of his balls squeezed off his imminent orgasm. A tortured groan broke from him but she was far from done. Dexterously, she maneuvered his cock into…

  A metal sheath? His shaft barely squeezed into it while his crest made an audible sound when it popped out the other end.

  When ring and sheath were both securely in place, she said, “I hope this isn’t too snug. I got the largest one available but --”

  He jerked as she ran a fingertip lightly over his swollen, exposed glans.

  “There’s a great deal of you left over.”

  As focused as his attention was on trying to envision what she had done to him, he couldn’t help but be aware of her quickening breath. Even so, he was unprepared when the stroke of her fingertip was replaced suddenly by the hot, wet caress of her tongue.

  “Bloody hell!”

  “You’re just too tempting,” she said.

  Her voice was a little muffled by his girth but she didn’t sound in the least apologetic. To the contrary, she returned swiftly to her demonic work. Prevented by the sheath from taking more than the last two inches of his cock into her mouth, she sucked on just that tip while her tongue flicked again and again along its ultra-sensitive underside.

  His lordship fought manfully but failed to restrain his groans. As bad as the past few days had been, nothing had prepared him for this. The tight grip of the gold sheath around his shaft was equaled only by the firm squeeze of the ring around his balls. Worse yet, all that pressure flowed down into his exposed crest, making it even more acutely sensitive.

  Only the presence of the torque and the inevitable punishment it would inflict stopped him from seizing hold of her. As it was, he could do nothing but suffer as Mistress Jane used him for her own pleasure.

  When she finally broke off the exquisite torment, he breathed a ragged sigh of relief--or disappointment, he couldn’t have said which. Only to be swiftly distracted by the sound of a popping champagne cork and the hiss of bubbles.

  “What a marvelous idea,” Jane said a little breathlessly, “to have a chiller right here in the car.”

  He heard the faint glug of wine being poured, followed by a delicate swallow.

  “I must admit,” she went on, “I could develop a taste for this.”

  “Enjoy it while you can,” he muttered. The kennels had been too good for her. He’d keep her chained on the f
loor beside his bed. A good sharp tug whenever he wanted to fuck, then back down with her.

  She laughed and took hold of his sheathed cock.

  “Oh, I intend to.”

  “What the--!”

  A man should have some warning before the tip of his cock was dipped in icy cold champagne. He should have a little time to prepare himself before being subjected to the avid strokes of a vixen’s tongue lapping up the wine from his straining crest.

  Followed by another dip and--

  “Strewth!”

  The suction of her mouth again on him sent a bolt of anguished pleasure straight up his spine. But it wasn’t enough. He needed her to take all of him as only she could, the muscles of her throat working all along his crest and shaft, driving him to---

  Without thought, he reached out, intending to hold her in place and use her until--

  Zap!

  Pleasure vanished, replaced by a quick surge of burning pain that was gone almost before he realized what had happened. The torque!

  “You’ve been so good lately,” Jane murmured. “Don’t backslide now.”

  Before he could even begin to assemble a response, she resumed her merciless torment.

  His lordship’s hands fell back at his sides. In a haze of anguished pleasure, compounded by imbibings of the champagne that she held at regular intervals to his lips, he felt reality narrowing down into a blind journey through darkness toward a release always tantalizingly out of reach.

  At some point, she slid her gown down, baring her breasts, and dipped each in turn into the champagne before giving them to him to suck. As he did so, she rubbed his bare crest over her clit, writhing on him but not, he couldn’t help noticing, coming. He couldn’t imagine why she held back but was vengefully glad all the same that she did.

  They had finished one bottle and started on the next when Jane at last allowed him to see her handiwork.

  “I think you’ll agree with me that it’s quite extraordinary,” she said as she removed the blindfold.

  He blinked, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the fractured light of headlamps moving in the opposite direction along a highway.