My Lord and Master

by Whitlock, Victoria

  There was a delicious pause and then Angelica felt him pulse powerfully, deep into her throat, the warmth soon flooding her mouth, too. She gulped back as much as she was able, but there was so much of it that some dribbled over her bottom lip and slid down his shaft, white as milk, and she moaned and licked and lapped and swallowed, her whole body trembling from shock and pleasure and pain – such a strange, sweet mixture of sensations.

  Never had she tasted a man like this before, and to her surprise she found she rather liked it, licking the remaining drops eagerly from her swollen lips and his glistening, twitching shaft as he withdrew from her mouth from him, his fingers finally letting go their tight grip on the hair at her neck.

  Angelica felt dizzy and weak as she pulled herself up from Lord Sutherland’s lap, her legs now soft as jelly, her head whirling like a spinning top.

  “Now remember, girl,” he said sternly, his cold eyes fixing on her. “You’re never to touch yourself again without my permission, understand me?”

  “Yes, My Lordship,” Angelica said softly, her whole body still trembling.

  “Very good,” he said. “You may return to your room.”

  Angelica drew a long deep bath, admiring her tender red bottom in the large floor-standing mirror as she waited for the tub to fill. It caused her great happiness and pride to look at the pert curves of her rump – now glowing a deep crimson in two large delicate patches, from where Lord Sutherland had laid his hand upon her.

  A part of Angelica knew that it was strange to feel pride at this. After all, wasn’t it a punishment? But then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that she had taken pleasure in things that other girls shied from. Whereas Angelica longed to spend her free time reading, or walking alone, other girls positively feared solitude. Angelica loved the school room, while her classmates couldn’t wait to leave it. And submitting to the nauseating leering and pawing of the village boys? Why, all the other girls sought that out, when for Angelica, that seemed like a punishment.

  As she surveyed her tender hindquarters, she reassured herself that this was simply another example of her natural nature being not that of others. But natural just the same, and nothing to be ashamed of.

  Solemnly, Angelica reminded herself that it was not her duty to tend to her own pleasure, and if she were to take comfort from anything, it would be that her Lord and Master had relished their time together. His gratification had been obvious. She had never seen him as animated as when he’d dished out her punishment, not to mention the way in which his manhood had grown and strained against the cloth of his britches as he’d admonished her.

  Angelica thrust her whole body and head beneath the water. The sensations sharpened her mind. She was solely focussed now on her body. She felt the sting of the water against her tender skin, and tried to hold onto the feeling. The pain was closer to pleasure, and she felt a sadness at knowing it would soon fade.

  Holding her breath, she privately promised her Lord to focus her mind onto the pain he’d given her – to fully enjoy his gift to her.

  She forced herself to remain underwater for as long as possible, contemplating the delicious pain. But soon, she began to grow lightheaded, and she emerged from beneath the water, gasping.

  The combination of her tingling skin and lack of oxygen was a heady one, and almost automatically her hands began to stray once more between her legs, to that secret sensitive place that held so much pleasure for her.

  But just as her fingertips grazed against the tender folds of flesh, Lord Sutherland’s voice once more ricocheted around her head: Now remember, girl, you’re not to touch yourself without my permission ...

  And like the good girl she was, Angelica withdrew her hands, placing them instead by her sides. She lay back in the tub and savoured the strangely sweet ache that grew inside her, with each second she didn’t touch herself – each moment seeming to build in that strange, addictive mixture of pleasure and pain, like two serpents curling around each other ...

  Yes, it felt good to deny herself pleasure, to be under the total and utter control of her master, Lord Sutherland, to give herself up to him completely like this. And lying there beneath the sumptuous bubbles, her skin tingling, her mind swirling, her body aching so sweetly, Angelica’s mind turned to wondering. How much more could she take? How much pain? How much pleasure?

  Despite her resolve to be perfectly well behaved, the life of a caged songbird did not suit our fair heroine.

  Although her quarters were large and sumptuous, very soon she had explored every inch of them. And her curious mind turned frequently to the door, which, after all, she told herself, remained unlocked ...

  The temptation finally grew unbearable, and Angelica could not help but submit to it.

  It was a beautiful Spring day when her confinement became too much for her. From her window, she could see flowers blooming into life and she could hear birds singing. She had to get out there and explore the world outside her door.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned the heavy iron handle and made her way into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

  She breathed the air deeply. Although she had only ventured just a few steps, it smelt different somehow.

  And it was only once she was outside of her room that she realised she had no idea quite where she was heading. So, was she surprised when she found herself outside the door to Lord Sutherland’s curious room of pain and pleasure?

  And was she even thinking when she turned the handle and stepped inside?

  Alone in this chamber of mystery, Angelica’s eyes widened as she was able to truly take in for the first time the wonders that it held. So many strange objects adorning the walls. So many possibilities. What could they all mean.

  Angelica’s fingers brushed over the thick leather strands of a whip, then moved on to the sleek black bulbous tip of a ...

  But the girl knew no words for this strange new object – that looked if anything like some kind of odd child’s toy. Round as a ball at one end, but tapering to a thin point at the other, it hung from the wall on a leather loop, as glossy and black as mystery itself.

  Angelica shivered, wondering what in the world such a strange item was for, and resolved to ask Lord Sutherland himself at the very next opportunity. For she was still so curious about this place of his – and about the many odd items it contained.

  Then, deep within the bowels of the house, some noise, some commotion drew her out of her reverie.

  She jumped.

  What if she were to be found here?

  She knew she must leave at once, and hastily made for the door.

  In a blind panic, Angelica ran down the corridor. She passed seemingly hundreds of doors, but could not find her own distinctive heavy iron handle!

  Where was her room?

  Did this strange house have the ability to rearrange itself all on its own?

  Angelica frantically tried doors, all locked, or leading to uninhabited guest bedrooms. Her panic had reached fever pitch when she reached out her trembling hand to try another door, only for that same door to open by itself! Angelica screamed in terror.

  “Dear God, girl! What’s the matter?” Mary exclaimed, taking a step back herself in surprise.

  Angelica stood, frozen to the spot, still trembling. She was relieved to see Mary, but also feared the consequences of being discovered outside of her quarters, whatever they may be.

  “What are you doing outside of your room?” Mary snapped, putting an arm around her shoulders and hastily bundling her back down the corridor.

  Angelica was still too shocked to speak, and Mary carried on with her admonishments. “It’s a good job that Lord Sutherland didn’t see you out like this! For I would be in just as much trouble as you! We have to get you back to your room right now. Oh, why did you have to go wandering, you silly child, on today of all days?”

  Mary laid her hand the familiar heavy handle and Angelica realised that she had simply turned the wrong way down the corridor. As Mary
led Angelica into her room and sat her down on the bed, Angelica felt her voice returning, now that she was once more safe within her quarters.

  “What’s so special about today?” Angelica asked quietly.

  “Never mind, girl. You’ve been inquisitive enough for one day, don’t you think? Now stay right here, and get yourself ready. You have a busy night ahead of you.”

  But Angelica was given no chance to ask another question, to find out what this might mean, for just as she had appeared out of the blue, Mary had left the room.

  Once more alone, Angelica felt confused by the morning’s events. What secrets did the rest of the house hold? What was that strange, bulbous object? And what lay ahead of her this evening?

  A little later that afternoon, as she was reclining on her little chaise lounge, Angelica heard the distinct sound of carriage wheels grinding against the stones of the driveway, and when she pushed herself to her feet and ran over to her window, peering down upon the front of the house, sure enough there was a horse-drawn carriage. But this was not Lord Sutherland’s imposing black carriage. No, this was smaller, and painted a delicate cream.

  Angelica watched, transfixed, as Lord Sutherland strode out to greet whoever the carriage contained, and when the door opened and out stepped a lady – a strikingly pretty lady with a thin face and sparkling emerald eyes and long flowing brown locks and a slim petite frame, shown off by such a beautiful dress, so different to Angelica’s drab little cotton smock – well, when she saw this, she felt her heart break inside her.

  Oh, how she longed to spend just one day as a lady. To travel in her own beautiful carriage. For maids to dress her in sparkling jewels and elegant silks. To be greeted at a fine house, by a gentleman who would bow deeply to her.

  But of course, this was mere fantasy.

  Angelica had often imagined such a fine existence, had often written herself into the tales of Lords and Ladies, Princes and Princesses that she had read back home in the village. Such fantasies had always been a pleasure, a comfort to her. But now, able to see with her very own eyes a lady straight out of one of her fairy tales, but very much real, Angelica felt a strange feeling. An unusual pang of jealousy.

  Her place in the house was here. True, she was not a maid or a servant to be worked to the bone. She had a comfortable feather bed to sleep in, and a bath of her very own to bathe in. But she was a dirty little secret, hidden out of sight.

  How much for the girl?

  She heard his words once more.

  She was now his possession, and she would never be anything more than his whore.

  Angelica could hardly continue to watch as Lord Sutherland took the woman’s hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it, the very picture of decency and respectability. Never would he spank this woman on the bottom, or move his hand roughly between her legs.

  And as Lord Sutherland led the elegant lady into the house, Angelica pulled herself away from the window, throwing herself down, face-first onto her bed, and began to sob into her pillow.

  The day seemed to take forever to pass. In between bouts of indolence, Angelica would occasionally push herself up from her bed and go to her window, to see if the woman’s carriage was still there.

  Of course it was. And each time Angelica laid eyes upon it, her mind filled with images of Lord Sutherland and that pretty, emerald-eyed woman doing all kinds of things: strolling around the grounds hand-in-hand, perhaps taking a boat out onto the lake that Angelica had glimpsed at the very back of the house, or maybe they were lunching together beneath a parasol on the lawn?

  And each time she thought of these images, she felt a little more wretched than before, as her lowly place within the house was confirmed to her, over and over again.

  At around six that evening, there came a hurried knock at the door, and in came Mary carrying Angelica’s supper on a tray.

  “Now remember what I told you and make sure to prepare yourself this evening, Miss Angelica,” Mary stated coldly as she set Angelica’s food out on the table for her. “For the Lord will no doubt want to pay you a visit later tonight.”

  “And why is that?” Angelica replied, for she suspected the answer, and knew that Mary would never confirm her fears aloud.

  Perhaps Angelica’s little indolences of the day were not over. For why else would she want to tease poor, prudish Mary so?

  “Why, have you not seen the carriage?” Mary asked, blushing, and once more, her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor.

  “Yes, of course I have,” said Angelica sweetly. “Such a beautiful carriage. Who does it belong to?”

  “Why,” Mary said quietly, “that carriage belongs to Lady Reedsdale. She is a particular friend of Lord Sutherland.”

  And as Mary spoke of the Lady, her face brightened. She was clearly a particular favourite of Mary’s too.

  “Lady Reedsdale,” Mary continued, “is the eldest daughter of one of the most prominent land owners in all of the country. She’s a great beauty, and so accomplished! Yes, it would be a great match ...”

  At this, Mary tailed off, lost in thought, clearly imagining the beautiful Lady Reedsdale as her mistress. And the pangs of jealousy that had been rising in Angelica’s bosom all afternoon, now boiled over.

  Angelica cursed her foolishness. She had wanted to punish Mary – to punish her for catching her outside of her room this morning, to punish her for her prudishness, to punish her simply for no reason the way a child might destroy its favourite toy – and now she was the one who was hurt. Hurt by her own stupid jealousies.

  Mary busied herself around the room, collecting laundry, while this time Angelica’s face was turned away from Mary, for she did not want the maid to see that this time it were her cheeks that were burning scarlet.

  “I shall leave you now,” Mary said. She gestured towards the untouched dinner tray. “If I were you, I would make sure I ate something. For I suspect that after this visit from Lady Reedsdale, our master may wish to summon you.”

  Angelica was awakened by the sound of carriage wheels grinding against the driveway. It was pitch dark in her bedchamber and she wondered what time it was. She must have fallen asleep after bathing – fallen asleep whilst waiting patiently, dressed as instructed in the simple silk and cotton that her master desired.

  She had only begun to rouse herself from the sheets when she heard the sound of footsteps upon the wooden floor of the corridor leading to her room. But these were not Mary’s gentle, shuffling footsteps. These were heavy male footsteps, his footsteps. He was coming for her, at last.

  She held her breath as the footsteps came closer, then stopped, right outside her door.

  Angelica waited patiently for him to knock, ready to spring up and answer the door, but instead she heard the handle to her room begin to turn. Of course, why should he knock? This was his room, and she his property.

  The door opened, and with the light of the corridor behind him, at first all Angelica could see was his silhouette – the imposing broadness of his shoulders, the tallness frame, such a powerful figure, reminding her all over again how much stronger he was than she. How he could snap her in two if he chose to! And at this thought, Angelica trembled.

  “Good evening, My Lordship,” she said quietly, her voice shaking.

  “Silence,” he interrupted. “Do not speak. In fact, do not make a single noise. Do you understand me?”

  Angelica nodded, pressing her lips together so that no sound could escape them.

  “Good. Now turn around. Raise yourself up onto all fours like an animal.”

  Again Angelica nodded, her heart beginning to pound as she did just as Lord Sutherland instructed. She could hear it in his voice – a tension, an intensity – that told her not to argue with him, to just do exactly as he instructed.

  She turned around and placed herself on all fours, her rump held high to him, wondering if again he was going to spank her, and whether her poor tender little bottom could take much more of that so soon.

&nbs
p; Behind her, she could hear him closing the door, the silence of her bedchamber enveloping them both for a moment. Then the creak of his boots on the floorboards as he approached her bed.

  Angelica shivered again in anticipation, her delicate nipples stiffening beneath the cotton of her blouse, her womanhood crying out for him to touch it, to make it explode once more in a shower of wetness.

  There was another pause, and then Angelica heard him begin to undo his belt.

  Good God, she thought with a pang of trepidation, is he about to take that to my poor rump?

  But no. Instead Lord Sutherland was simply unbuckling his trousers. Angelica could hear the fabric sliding open, and as it did so, her mind was filled with memories of his manhood: that hot thick beast, twitching and pulsing, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

  Angelica braced herself, there on all fours like an animal, her young body trembling in fear and anticipation as Lord Sutherland approached her from behind.

  There was a pause, and then she felt her bloomers being pulled sharply downwards, the silk tearing a little as he once more exposed her bare rump and, just beneath it, her throbbing, dripping sex.

  She felt his fingers cup her there, one of them softly brushing right between her lips, right at the opening to herself, and it was all she could do to stop herself from letting out a soft groan. After all, she wasn’t to make a single sound, now was she?

  Lord Sutherland began working her warm wetness up and down her swollen lips, his fingertips grazing the tender flesh that surrounded her most secret place, working her hot gooey wetness up and down, up and down, in slow sensual motions, stroking right up from the tingling little bundle of nerves of her clit right back to the tight little rosebud of her arsehole, each fresh motion of his fingers daring Angelica to make a sound.