ThePleasureDevice

by Regina Kammer

  “It is wondrous, my love, is it not?” His voice did not betray the rapture she was certain he must be feeling.

  “Yes, Julius.” She could scarcely get the words out.

  “Would you deny anyone this pleasure?” His steady baritone held a sinister edge.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Not even your own daughter?”

  Sophia tensed at that. Julius paused.

  “Ah, that is a delicate subject. Especially while I’m fucking you in a most unnatural way.”

  Confusion descended on Sophia. Why was he saying such things?

  He took the vibrator away and turned it off, continuing his motions inside her. “Helena is a virgin.”

  It was not a question, but Sophia felt compelled to answer. “Yes.”

  “I’ve never had a virgin.”

  A chill spread over her.

  Julius slowed his movement. “In order for Helena to garner a husband of sufficient status she must remain a virgin. Is that not so?” He picked up his pace, thrusting in and out of her more determinedly.

  “Yes.” She clenched her jaw against the pain, now devoid of respite.

  “I want her for myself, Sophia,” he rumbled calmly. “You can either give her to me willingly or I will simply take her by force in the name of medical treatment. I call it penetrative massage.”

  Every muscle in her body tightened.

  Julius groaned. Her body’s reaction had seemingly provoked him to renewed vigor.

  “Any aristocratic man worth his salt will require a virginity test, given the family scandal.” He pounded against her, uncaring. “Helena is a very beautiful girl. The daughter of a lustful woman. No man will believe her untouched.”

  Sophia fought back tears. She was the one who had set up her own daughter to see Julius for treatment of her erratic behavior. Couldn’t she simply prevent Helena from returning to Julius for treatment?

  He slowed his pace. “You know I can easily insinuate myself in her life, my love. I can easily convince her to come see me for further treatments. She knows the pleasure she feels under my care. She’ll come.”

  He was right.

  Julius thrust himself deep inside her and held his position. “A husband has rights over his wife that not even a father can deny.” He clicked on the vibrator.

  Every pore on her skin opened in anticipation. Like an opium eater to laudanum, she was addicted to his touch.

  “Yes, Julius.”

  He held the vibrator away from her flesh. “You want your release, do you not, my love?”

  God, oh, God, yes! “Yes, Julius.”

  “Tell me you give Helena to me willingly.”

  Her tears fell uncontrollably. “I give Helena to you willingly.”

  He moved the vibrating wand a bit closer. She could sense the pulsations in the air.

  “You want me to use her body for my own pleasure.”

  “I want you to use her body for your own pleasure.” Lust and fear, desperation and hate welled inside Sophia.

  “Beg me.”

  An icy shudder ripped through her. Julius tauntingly moved the vibrator even closer.

  “Please take my daughter, Julius,” she choked out. “Please give me my pleasure.” It took every last shred of effort to not sob her words.

  He chortled darkly. “You won’t regret it, Sophia.”

  He pressed the wand against her clitoris, then pounded against her relentlessly. She jerked in a mini-convulsion, squeezing him. His climax came quickly.

  He held the wand steady, unrelenting, his cock still hard within her. She closed her eyes again, this time to block out the abomination she had just agreed to subject her daughter to. Julius was far too old for her, far too corrupt and perverted. Helena was chaste, naive, unaware such debauchery existed. But Sophia knew about such things. Sophia would do anything for Julius.

  Including, it seemed, giving him her innocent daughter.

  Sophia screamed her orgasm, her body gripping so violently she spewed out Julius’ sated cock.

  As she slumped over in despair she heard his gleeful laughter behind her.

  * * * * *

  Grace wasn’t sure Dr. Christopher knew about the peephole under the stairs. He had to know, she convinced herself. There was an awful lot of bizarre equipment being stored there—probably medical devices he no longer needed—so he must occasionally go into the little room and fetch or leave something.

  Besides, it wasn’t so much a peephole, really, it was just that she used it as such. There had already been a tiny hole, probably because one of the wood and iron contraptions had hit the wall once when he moved it. But to be able to see—and hear—into Dr. Christopher’s office the hole had to be made just a little bit bigger.

  And what she had just seen through the hole had been astoundingly arousing. As she frigged herself she had reached back to touch her anus to see what an invasion there would feel like, especially an invasion by such a luscious cock as was the doctor’s.

  She stopped touching herself when she heard Dr. Christopher’s ultimatum to the lovely Sophia Phillips.

  It was one thing to share her Julius with a married woman whose husband would return eventually. It was quite another to share him with a beautiful young virgin who was to be his wife.

  Grace remembered that Helena Phillips had inquired about Dr. Ramsay the day she had come in for her appointment. Perhaps the two were friends.

  Perhaps Dr. Ramsay needed to be informed of Dr. Christopher’s scheme.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thoughts of Helena and his rather eccentric employer occupied Nicholas to distraction, and thoughts of his father and why he possibly wanted to see him plagued him until his stomach turned. Did the earl want to make him his heir? It was the very first time in his life Nicholas actually wanted such a thing, and he wanted it because of her, to guard her and shield her from the likes of Dr. Christopher.

  To love her with his entire being until the end of time.

  Of course it was possible his father merely wanted to mock him, to let him know another, more deserving heir had been chosen. Unfortunately, the earl was like that sometimes.

  Such vexatious worries made the ball at Lord and Lady Quimby’s rather tiring. But Lavinia had insisted he attend. “You need to keep yourself in the game, Nicky,” she had said. “Who knows, you might find someone you like.”

  But it was the same as every other fashionable ball. Young ladies dressed in elaborate confections of ruffles, ruching and lace, their necklines cut low so men young and old could get a glimpse of their wares, their pretty smiles flirtatious and beckoning, their waists nipped dangerously so partners could get an entire hand across the back, producing a sense of ownership and power.

  After a while, it just got boring.

  To be sure, he danced with some very lovely young ladies, taking the opportunity to surreptitiously glance at cleavage, feeling feminine bodies move under his command in the waltz. To be sure, he became aroused at all the attention. But it was his body’s normal reaction. His cock would have gotten just as hard had he been at a brothel.

  Then there was Helena. Unobtainable, beautiful Helena. While he was dancing with the light-footed Penelope Hardcastle, he saw Helena having the most awful go of it with William Peel—who was too young and rather gangly but must have been the heir to something, otherwise why would Helena be dragged across the floor like a sack of flour in his arms? Nicholas swore he saw her look at him with a plea for help.

  There was no garden at the Quimbys’ Belgravia mansion—well, nothing to hide in at any rate. But the house was large, going several stories up. Which was where, it seemed, guests flocked to get a breath of fresh air.

  Nicholas slipped through the throng of guests, out of the ballroom, and up to the third floor, passing several men and women going up and down the stairs. As if abiding by some unspoken rule, no one looked at or greeted any other. It created an air of licentiousness and possibility. Nicholas chuckled to himself. Wh
atever was he to find on the third floor?

  It was purposely poorly lit, faces only shadows, colors faded into grays. He realized he was in a bedroom wing. Well, so be it. He could use a nice wingback chair in a gentleman’s bedchamber after standing for hours on end.

  Nicholas tried the handle on a door. Locked. Of course. He wondered what he would have done had the door not been locked and he had walked in on a fornicating couple. He was feeling so puckish he probably would have joined them. An unlocked door surely was a sign of welcome to such debauchery.

  As Nicholas approached the next room, a young man dashed out. He moved along, assuming the fellow had already satisfied both himself and whoever remained behind.

  He tried the next room. Open. He peeked in. It looked empty but it was difficult to tell as it was almost completely dark with only a bit of moonlight glowing through the windows. The light revealed the coveted wingback. Nicholas entered, then closed and locked the door behind him. There certainly was no rule that a man could not be in one of the bedrooms all by himself, was there?

  He glanced out the window at the night before settling in the chair, groaning as he felt his body relax into the stuffed cushions.

  “Dr. Ramsay?”

  He jolted up to standing at the sound of the familiar female voice.

  “Miss Hardcastle?”

  “Y-yes.”

  There was a tinge of shame in her response, as if she had been caught in a compromising position.

  Oh what a fool I am! He really should have asked aloud if the room was empty before entering. Now it seemed he would have to make absolutely sure he and Penelope Hardcastle left separately and at such an interval as to avoid scandal.

  “I didn’t expect you,” she said quietly. “I had thought you above this sort of thing.”

  Christ! “Miss Hardcastle, are you here for an assignation?” he asked incredulously.

  She remained silent for a minute before answering. “Yes.”

  It was really beyond comprehension. Penelope Hardcastle fornicating with an unknown stranger in a dark room? And yet the thought was surprisingly arousing.

  “Look, Miss Hardcastle, I had no idea there was something prearranged here. I came upstairs to sit in a comfortable chair and catch my breath. The garden here is really too small.”

  She giggled, then stepped forward into the shaft of moonlight. “Then I was right about you. I had hoped at one point, but you are so honorable and polite that I realized it was never to be.”

  Nicholas had never really studied her. Now with the soft light through half-open diaphanous curtains he saw how remarkably pretty she was. Her dress was cut provocatively and perfectly to suit her feminine attributes. A man would be a fool to not take the opportunity as presented. So his stiffening cock reminded him.

  “Do you do this often?” he asked, then shook his head in dismay. “I’m sorry, I’m just somewhat surprised. Of course I assumed you were—”

  “A virgin?”

  “Miss Hardcastle, Penelope, this is most embarrassing, really. I do not know what to say.”

  She bit her lip and approached, reaching for his hands. Nicholas swallowed hard as she took off his gloves, slowly, one at a time, dropping them onto the arm of the chair.

  She stood on tiptoe and brushed his lips with the most delicate of kisses.

  It was his undoing. He pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers, devouring her, as she tore off his jacket and waistcoat.

  “Nicholas, it means nothing, believe me,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s just a fantasy. I’m not interested in marrying you. We’ll keep this our little secret.”

  Christ but his cock was hard. “I haven’t done such a thing as this in years, Penelope.” His body reminded him of how exciting a furtive encounter could be.

  She led him to the bed, bent over the edge and lifted her skirts.

  Between the tops of her stockings and the flounce at her waist she was naked.

  “Where are your drawers?” he blurted.

  She giggled. “Over there with my fan and gloves, silly.”

  He unbuttoned his fly and slipped off his suspenders to lower his trousers, only realizing then how excited he was. And as he unbuttoned his drawers, how utterly rash. He was a doctor. He knew better.

  “Penelope, should I pull out?”

  “Oh yes, I think so, please. I wasn’t able to put in a pessary.”

  She wriggled her glorious butt at him. In a second, he was embedded in her warm, wet cunt.

  “Oh God,” he groaned.

  Her muscles fluttered around him, gripping him tightly as he pulled out, releasing and flexing as he pushed in. She was most definitely not a virgin.

  “Faster,” she mewled.

  He obliged. Her first orgasm was quickly followed by a second, then, astonishingly, a third.

  Nicholas was stunned at how practiced the young lady was. He found her clit.

  “Oh yes, please,” she begged.

  As he massaged the tender pearl her breaths became moans, growing louder and louder.

  It would simply not do.

  He grabbed his handkerchief and stuffed it in her mouth. She looked at him in surprise, her face quickly softening to lewd accession.

  Nicholas slammed into her as his finger brought her to climax, her screams muffled by the handkerchief and the mattress. Her heated passage clenched so tightly he could barely pull out.

  But pull out he must, as she had made quick work of him. He wrenched her head up, grabbed the handkerchief, and spent into the hot, damp cloth with a satisfied groan.

  Penelope stood up, adjusted her skirts, walked to where she had left her clothes, then dressed quickly and quietly.

  Nicholas hastily jerked his trousers back on. He was speechless, but surely something should be said. “Penelope, that was fabulous.”

  She went to him and put a gloved finger to his lips before kissing him sweetly. “Thank you, Nicholas,” she murmured.

  And then she left.

  Nicholas fumbled nervously, searching the floor for the rest of his own discarded clothes. In his wildest dreams he would have never have thought such a thing would have transpired with such a polite young woman.

  The sound of the door opening startled him. His heart jumped in his chest before crashing back down into his stomach. He was utterly spent, physically and emotionally. There was simply no way he could go through that again.

  It was a woman, that much he knew from the rustling of silk and crinoline. She strode in purposefully as if she herself had been looking for an unlocked door and a wingback to settle down in. As she drew nearer he sensed her subtle perfume lingering in the air, a scent that his cock recognized before his brain.

  Oh God. No. It simply couldn’t be.

  * * * * *

  As she strode toward the wingback Helena thought the empty bedroom was oddly humid, the windows peculiarly cast in a dissipating haze of steam. Then she felt a presence. A man’s presence. She stopped short.

  “Hello?” she called out meekly.

  “Helena?”

  It was him. Her heart leapt to her throat.

  “Nicholas?” she croaked gleefully.

  She watched as he ran to the door and locked it.

  “Whatever are you doing?”

  “Locking the door.” He grabbed her hands. “Helena, you should not be in here.”

  “Because you’re in here?” she asked plainly.

  “Well, yes.” He raked his hand through his hair nervously. “And what are you doing on the third floor anyway?” he scolded.

  “I went to the ladies’ retiring room on the first floor and then I decided to explore,” she began defensively. “There were so many people going up and down the stairs I thought there was nothing wrong with it. I was just looking for a little respite before I was expected back at the ballroom.”

  He shook his head. “I apologize. Of course your reasons are un-censurable. But, darling, I don’t want anyone to find you in such a comprom
ising position.” He exhaled, his expression twisted, trying to think what to say. “You see, the third floor is where guests go to have illicit love affairs.”

  “Oh.” She should have been completely scandalized by such a notion, but she was far more enthralled that such things happened at formal occasions.

  Nicholas led her to a window as if to consider how he could manage her escape, but seemed to realize how foolish that was.

  In the pale moonlight, she gazed from his worried expression down to his untucked shirt bunching where his suspenders met his trousers. His half-dressed appearance suggested a recent adventure of sorts. “Then did you just have one?”

  “One what?” he asked distractedly, reconsidering the window.

  “An illicit love affair.” She relished saying the words aloud. She could never talk like that in front of anyone but Nicholas.

  He glanced down at his state of dishabille, then regarded her apologetically. “Helena, please believe me,” he implored. “I came here as innocently as you did, to find some peace away from the crowds.” He looked away, abashed. “But I found someone here, someone I knew, someone I liked.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them as he gazed at her. “It was base and contemptible. I hope I have not lost esteem in your eyes.”

  “Was it wonderful?” she asked eagerly.

  Nicholas was taken aback by her response. “I—I suppose it was, rather.”

  “Oh, how romantic!” She wandered over to the wingback and flopped down into it, his gloves falling from the arm to her lap. “I wish I could do something so wicked,” she lamented, smoothing and straightening the kid leather. It simply was not fair that others could be so free.

  He knelt at her side. “Helena, you should never have to do such a horrid thing! Your husband…” He faltered. “Trust me, your husband will worship you. You will find all the love and romance you’ll ever need with him.”

  Your husband… Helena didn’t even know who he was going to be. Tears welled in her eyes. How could she possibly love a man she did not even know? Meeting Nicholas in third-floor bedrooms sounded like a much preferable life. The tears were insistent. She wiped her cheeks, staining her gloves.