The Duke looked up at her, as if to reassure her, “You’re showing us your pink vagina, sweetheart and it is truly lovely. You have a delightful little cunt.” She squirmed and tried to close her legs but they were too heavy; she couldn’t get her muscles to contract. Then the Duke actually seemed to be smiling at her discomfort, and in that moment she hated him for it.
Then he looked down again to where the doctor’s hands were installing a small tube, and he addressed his friend, “So, is she?”
“See for yourself,” the doctor said and moved slightly out of the way, but she could still feel his fingers on her holding her labial lips apart with the tube partially inserted into her. “She’s small inside, but I can see everything’s still intact.”
The Duke moved into the vacated space and crouched low. She heard the doctor say, “See that thin membrane way up inside? Here, I can touch it with this swab.” She felt something enter her and touch her. “That’s it, Stewart, that’s her hymen or maidenhead as you Highlanders say. It’s intact and ready for popping!” he said, sounding very pleased, as if he had just discovered a rare jewel. He pulled the tube out.
“What is this?” The Duke asked, and he bent forward to graze his finger on her. She felt more fingers join his. My God, now they were both touching her at the same time!
“That’s her first set of lips, this,” he said stroking the inside of a velvet fold, “is the second set, where all the love juices come from, she’ll get wet for you here and it’ll spread to here,” he said pointing. “Look, she’s getting wet now. See that light milky glaze? It’s coating her like a fine, silky patchouli oil—her body’s getting ready to mate, making your entry easier and protecting her from being rubbed raw. If you make her come, this is where that lovely woman’s essence comes from,” he said as ran his finger around the top rim of her vagina.
He inserted his finger inside her, stood and pushed against her mound with his other hand. “If you curl your finger inside her and stroke the front wall of her vagina like this, making steady and firm contact, there is a very special spot where you can make her scream and cause her to flood your hand.”
He shoved hard, sending his long finger deep into her core, his palm cupping her. Leaning slightly forward, he pushed against her mons from the outside, flexing his wrist several times with the effort. When she groaned, he stopped and held both hands still. A moment later, Julia’s body arched up to meet the downward pressure. She lifted her hips, grinding herself into his hand. All control left her as she cried out and began frantically convulsing against him. Sobbing with shame, she turned her head to the wall as her body betrayed her and swamped his hand.
“See?” he said triumphantly, pulling out his finger and showing him her copious release. A pool of thick creamy slickness coated his palm.
“Nice . . . you do know your way around a woman’s cunt. Always wondered where that creamy stuff came from,” the Duke said with a chuckle. “I’ve looked between the legs of many women and never noticed that there were two sets of lips before. I suppose I was more interested in the sweet honey hole.”
The doctor smugly smiled at him and began to slowly massage Julia, calming her and forcing her to relax after her powerful orgasm. He was pleased he knew something about women that his friend, the Duke, London’s most notorious rake, didn’t know. But he was doubly pleased that he was able to bring this beautiful woman to her completion so readily by his more than capable hands.
The Duke elbowed his friend aside to sit on the stool between Julia’s parted thighs. He leaned in and kissed Julia on her nether lips, using his tongue he redistributed the musky dew as he licked her slit from top to bottom and back again. She gasped and her eyes opened wide. Both the doctor and the Duke chuckled, then the Duke stood, licking his lips.
“Can’t let any of that stuff go to waste, can I?” he said when he saw his friend’s amused expression. “She tastes as good as she looks, Luce.”
Lucien knew that, as he had just sucked her essence from his fingers. They both stood back and stared at her, at the moist junction between her thighs. “She is lovely isn’t she?” the Duke said.
“You’ve done very well for yourself, Stewart. You’ve certainly done your family proud.”
“Yes. I think everyone will be well pleased.”
What in the world were they talking about, she wondered in her lightly fogged head.
“Now, let me see her breasts and I’ll check to make sure she has good nipples for nursing your heirs.”
“You just want to see her tits.”
The doctor laughed. “Yes, I do in fact.”
She felt the sheet being pulled completely off of her until she was lying on the table completely naked and open, nothing covering her anywhere, nothing
at all.
“Ahhh. Perfect. They are simply perfect,” Lucien breathed.
“Here, let me sit her up so you can see their true shape. They are quite full and heavy, yet still high on her chest,” the Duke said proudly.
She felt the Duke’s hands on her back and shoulders as he lifted her into a seated position, and when she looked up she saw the doctor’s eyes deeply searching her own before his hands reached out and cupped her breasts.
“Ahhh. Stewart. You are the luckiest man in the universe. These are marvelous. So soft, yet firm,” he bent lower and concentrated his eyes on her nipples, “nipples to entice any man’s tongue.” He stroked them and pulled on them and then rubbed them back and forth between his fingers. “Look how long they’re getting just by my rubbing them, imagine how long they’ll get by you suckling them. She’ll nurse just fine, both you and the babes will be able to suckle her with abandon.”
He kneaded the flesh back and forth and up and down and around in circles on her chest. “Showpieces, these are,” the doctor murmured.
“Yes, I know,” the Duke said proudly from behind her where he was still propping her up for him.
She turned her head and her eyes met his, and she could see the lust in them. She was on her elbows, her legs splayed; her knees spread wide showing them both every private part of her body. She was still unable to move, unable to retract anything, and unable to keep them from looking at her most private parts. All she could do was sit there and let them look at her to their heart’s desire.
The doctor abandoned her breasts and came around the table to stand at the foot of the table. The Duke eased her back down and went to stand beside him and together they stared at her in silence for several long minutes.
Finally she could take their fascinated scrutiny no longer and she whispered, “Please.” The doctor bent to pickup the sheet from the floor and covered her with it.
“Thank you, my Lady Thornhill,” he said as he smoothed the sheet in place, then he bent and kissed her on the cheek. Using her soon-to-be title was his way of assuring her that she had passed all of his tests. “I’ve never enjoyed an examination more.”
“Hey! Don’t make me jealous here.”
What kind of man was she marrying? A man who would allow all these liberties to be taken on her body by this man’s eyes and his hands, but now he was objecting to a simple kiss on her cheek? How was she to get along with this man? He was a monster. And so was his friend.
The doctor left the room and the Duke bent over the table to take a nipple into his mouth to suckle it. She sucked in air and cried out in surprise. He continued for many minutes, alternating between breasts and she felt more of that warm liquid collect between her thighs.
When he was finished, he ravaged her lips and she thought she tasted herself in his kiss. Then he stood above her looking down at her and with steel in his eyes as he grated out, “Men may look at you, but remember, you are mine.”
He abruptly left the room and the nurse returned to help her dress. What in the name of Hol
y Heaven did he mean by that?
On the carriage ride back to her aunt’s house, she vented her anger at his treatment of her. “If I am to be your wife, a lady of the realm, why was I treated so shabbily and so disrespectfully, by you, the doctor, and his nurse? Surely it is obvious to me that you meant to humiliate and shame me beyond what was required to certify my chastity!”
“Madam,” he said complacently, “You were a player in this game long before I even knew of you. Dr. Lucien Rinaldo, the Earl of Navona, has been promised an unencumbered view of my betrothed’s maidenhead since we were but fourteen years of age. And had he not turned doctor, I would still have been obliged to make sure he had it.”
She gasped at his harsh words, and as her hand clutched at her throat. Her eyes met his hard defiant ones, and she knew she would never have a say in anything that concerned her. She was indeed, bought and paid for, and he would never accept her as anything but his sovereign property, over which he had complete and absolute control. Her body belonged to him. He would do with it what he wanted, and she was beginning to suspect that he had plans she was not going to like.
“No need to be shocked. Between friends such as he and I, it is done all the time. What a woman’s body is subjected to is just not always something that they are aware of,” he said with a sly leer, “she is not always conscious or awake and so is quite often unaware of her husband’s proclivities. At least the liberties I have taken with your body have been done with your full knowledge.”
“And outraged objections!”
“You might as well learn not to voice them, it will only get me angered and make things harder for you.”
“What am I to be? Your lady or your whore?” she said with great vehemence.
He reached out and roughly grabbed her breast through her gown and bodice. She felt the savagery of his possession of it. “I may allow men to feast their eyes on you, but I will never allow them to have you! You are mine! While I will enjoy watching others build their lust for you, I will never let them sate themselves within your body.” He squeezed her breast harder and she could feel his fingernails digging into her soft flesh like talons. “And you best never allow that to happen either, my Lady,” he sneered at her while making a mockery of the word ‘Lady.’
Then, with a slight shove, he removed his hand from her breast and lightly stroked her cheek as he softly whispered, “Your job is to tantalize. To make men openly aware of the wondrous prize I have attained for myself, to make jealousy ride high in the hearts of my cohorts. I wish them all to envy me, my very lovely Lady Julia.”
Whoa, this was some hot stuff! Unbelievably hot stuff. Garrett’s mind could hardly get around the fact that Laurel, sweet, vibrant, youthful Laurel, had written this. He was about to shoot his release to the other side of the room and he’d not even touched himself yet. These characters
. . . they were so real . . . so . . . so like the men he envisioned for the time.
Feudal lords, whose holdings were vast, owned everything in their domain. They were skillful, bloodthirsty fighters who undoubtedly had an immense hunger for sex. After the business of war was shelved for the day, what else did they have to entertain them? Without TV, NASCAR, Football or the NBA, wenching had to be high on the list of things to occupy their dark evenings.
A peer of the realm, by virtue of being in supreme command, had a clear field with his servants, and with the law granting ownership, wives were no more than chattel. When brides handed over their dowries, their bodies were part and parcel. From the day of the betrothal they had no say. If a man had no mores, her destiny was doomed—she couldn’t foist her prudishness on him, couldn’t insist he behave or even act reasonably. All she could hope to do was endure his attentions whether they be base, demeaning, humiliating, hurtful, or damaging. Wives had no rights; Julia would have been the Duke’s to command. If society didn’t object, there was no one to answer to. And in a family such as Julia was being absorbed into, if her husband desired to share her, she was powerless to resist. Garrett knew these things had happened way back when, he’d just never read a story depicting it so graphically. He was tired, but still, he was compelled to read on.
As she sat stunned by his venomous revelations, she was told the details about the marriage ceremony they would have later this afternoon, and about the journey back to his estate near Heather Moorland. It would take three days for them to travel, and on the fourth day, they would again be married. This time it would be a proper Hedonic ceremony honoring his family and their traditions, and this he told her, would be their true handfasting day. The ceremony today was something to appease her aunt because he knew she would not let him take her away without the benefit of marriage and all that it promised her. Their true marriage ceremony would be one in the style of the ancient druids, the pagans, from whom his father’s Welsh ancestry was derived.
None of this made a lot of sense to her, but she listened anyway, hoping to understand more of what was expected of her. When he got to the part about their wedding night, her heart sang. She had a reprieve. Since he felt that they were not really and truly married until the second ceremony, they would not be consummating their marriage until that night, five days hence. However, he said, admonishing her severely for her zealous delight, “We will be traveling together in the same coach, sharing the same room at the inns and sleeping in the same bed. And there are other things I expect you to do for me, and one or two I may do for you if you choose to behave.”
The man was so cryptic all the time, why couldn’t he just speak plain English? What was in store for her on the road to her new home? The strange light in his eyes hinted to her that he would be pleased, but that she might not. She was quick to note that he seemed to divine a strange sense of pleasure whenever he exerted his power over her, especially when it required her to be humiliated or humbled by him.
The wedding at her aunt’s took place in the formal salon, shabby though it was. They both repeated their vows mechanically, she because she was nervous and still caught up in a maelstrom of different emotions, he, because he gave little credence to the validity of this ceremony as this was not his religion.
While they were attending the small reception her aunt had arranged for them, the servants packed all of Julia’s possessions and loaded them into the wagon the Duke had instructed his head coachman to purchase. Then Julia said tearful goodbyes to her siblings and cousins. Finally, turning to her aunt, she buckled under the strain.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she sobbed in her aunt’s arms, “I’m not ready to be a bride or a mother!”
“You are indeed ready to be a bride, my dear,” her aunt said as she consoled her. “As for being a mother, I would not worry. I venture it will be quite some time before the Duke allows you to become one.”
Julia looked at her with questioning eyes, but her aunt did not elaborate further. As she stroked Julia’s overlong blonde hair, she whispered in her niece’s ear, “I know one thing for certain; he will not hurt you if you obey him. If you do not though, he has his ways, and they are not pleasant. You will never wear a bruise from his loving though . . . love bites—that I would expect. Maybe you won’t come to mind them. In truth, I envy you. His is quite a virile man and you will be cherished and well loved as his lady bride.”
“How do you know all this?” Julia asked.
“He was my first, a long, long time ago. Before I met either of my husbands. He will tell you all when he is ready. Take heed of my advice, if you know what is best for you . . . and for the family you are leaving behind.” With that, she gave her a small kiss on each cheek and set her aside.
The Duke of Thornhill bent and took Patricia’s hand in his. He raised it to his lips while he focused his stern blue eyes on hers. “You have found me a gem among gems, the prized ruby of the lot. It is that much more rewarding that this gift comes fr
om you, a very special lady of my past. Tell me, do you ever think of me and the times we had?”
“Always,” she answered with a small smile. “More often than you would ever imagine,” she whispered.
He bent to kiss her on the cheek and Julia swore that she saw his hand stray to cup her bottom before he turned to face his new bride.
“All is in readiness, let’s make haste. I would like to make the first inn by midnight.”
She was ensconced in the carriage beside him and after many frantic waves to the family she was leaving behind, the caravan pulled through the crumbling front gates and began the long journey to Thornhill Manor.
Many moments later, she looked up to find him staring at her.
“Is something wrong, sir? Do I have mud on my face?”
“No. I was just assessing your looks. It is your overlong hair that draws your face down and focuses such attention to your high forehead. I think when we arrive at Thornhill, that mayhap your new lady’s maid should trim the front and allow some wisps to grace your forehead. She could thin away the heavy weight of it with loose layers. It is well past your arse so it could stand some attention.”
She blushed at his reference to her bottom.
“I am to have my own lady’s maid? I will not have to share her?” she asked.
“Indeed you shall. In fact, you shall have several. You will have all the trappings of being a Duke’s lady, save one.”
“And may I ask what that might be?”
His eyes bored into hers and he said, “Modesty. You will not be permitted modesty. In fact, for the rest of the ride tonight, I will require that you remove your gown, corset and camisole. You may keep your pantalets and stockings on. For now, I just want to see your titties bounce.”
Flash Drive Page 33
