Lady In A Box

by Brit Blaise

  Arden didn't need to be told this woman's body was beyond compare. The harsh sound of her breathing as he tickled her hard nipples made his cock pain him even more than the sight of her, which was considerable. If not for her bold drawings, he would never have begun this with her. She more than likely suffered from Lord Frederick as much as any of them if the truth be told. But now, as the sweet smell of her sex filled his head, he couldn't stop the spiral of need driving him to the edge of sensibility.

  Wortworth came back with a large silver urn between his hands. He crossed the floor and hurled its contents on top of Lord Frederick's costumed head. With the blast of water, his uncle jerked to attention, shaking his head to send water to fall at Lady Catharine's feet upon her costume. She toed the garment with her white satin slipper and didn't raise her eyes to see the damage done to her lord and master.

  While Arden wanted to remove her mask, he didn't want to make this any more personal than it was already becoming. This wasn't about slaking his needs with a beautiful woman. It was revenge, pure and simple.

  With Wortworth in the room and Lord Frederick's red, watery gaze fixed upon them, Arden held his mask in place while pulling his shirt over his head with his other hand. The others quickly followed his lead and disrobed all at the same time. The woman, however, appeared to dwell upon him as she watched intently.

  He toed out of his boots and pulled the drawstring which held his pants aloft. His stiff cock tented out the front and stopped them from falling to the floor. Lady Catharine's curious stare didn't waver from his crotch. Her attention made him harder still. What would she say were she able?

  He hooked a thumb under the material and lifted it away. The appearance of his rigid friend caused the lady's chest to rise and fall much faster. Her hands clenched and unclenched with nervous jerky movements. When he took a step nearer, she extended her lovely arms to reach for him. Any guilt he bore for abusing her was gone with her gesture.

  As she wrapped her hand around his cock, Arden couldn't resist testing her again, so reached his hand down to the juncture of her legs. Sticky, clear fluid dampened his finger and he held his hand up while rubbing his thumb against the fluid on his middle finger. So very wet ... thick with her need.

  "Our lady is anxious, and I confess to the same. Time to perform the rendering ... lady in a box.

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  CHAPTER 3

  The jester caught her legs and drew her legs around his waist, while the one called Thomas lifted her from behind. In synchronicity, both he and Thomas moved closer to pin her between their hard male bodies. It was a unique and delightful sensation she'd never forget as long as she lived. This ... and the sight of four male appendages ... cocks, all of them so different from one another.

  The jester's instrument was larger than she'd thought possible and angry looking with a big, purplish head. When she took him into her hand, she couldn't circle him with her fingers. If not for the gag, she would have demanded proof it would fit without causing damage. One at a time she examined their male parts and compared them. Thomas was the smallest of the four—no longer than the length of her hand, if that. Wortworth's was only a little longer, but almost as wide as the jester's. The one named William hid his behind his hand, but Lady Catharine had a brief glimpse. It was long, but almost as thin as Thomas's smaller one.

  In her renderings, she'd drawn all of them the same size. She hadn't taken into account such a variety. In the future her imagination would have fodder for its perversions.

  "She's wet,” Thomas said as he rubbed his cock along her slit from behind. “And ready for us, Cas."

  The jester made unintelligible sound behind his gruesome mask, but spoke with his cock as he thrust between her legs and rubbed against her. “Let's put the lady in a box."

  The other two men closed in until she was surrounded by four walls of male flesh. At first the smells overwhelmed her. Each had his own unique scent, but blended with the tang of her sex, the rich harmony made her warm all over and giddy.

  The men on either side linked their arms about the backs of the men in the front and rear, completely encasing her in the box of flesh. She dropped her hands to reach for their cocks, but the jester's big cock-head, probing along her slit, distracted her.

  A moment later, Thomas eased the cheeks of her bottom apart and found her pucker with his smaller tool. He probed against it. One of his hands snaked around her and found the spot she'd only discovered earlier when the jester had touched it. When he rolled a finger over it, the same unique sensation overtook her, only this time when she jerked, she found herself impaled upon a cock-head so thick it stretched her tight. This welcome intrusion made her groan. She forced herself to relax.

  Thomas eased into her ass while she was suspended on the jester's large bulb. Thomas began to thrust back and forth, while toying with her sensitive spot. The pleasure coiled so tight, she didn't know what to expect.

  The jester pressed further inside her. On its own, it was difficult to imagine the jester's large cock fitting with ease, but when coupled by the fullness in her rear, it became almost impossibly tight.

  "Don't ignore your hands, milady.” The jester reminded her of her plan and next moved in harmony with Thomas thrusting in her rear. Her body knew better than she when it found a way to accommodate both the jester's girth and length. She allowed her head to loll forward against the cup of the jester's shoulder, even as her hands sought the flesh of the other two men.

  At first touch, her insides seized with pleasure and the novelty made her breathe so hard it hurt. Pleasuring a man with her hands she understood since she'd seen her husband attend to his own needs by rubbing his hand up and down. She attempted the act and found it difficult to move, but did what she hoped would suffice.

  The jester penetrated her until she was seated tight against him with his log filling her. With the jolts of pleasure wrought from the two inside her, she found it hard to concentrate on the two at her hands.

  Still being tended to by Thomas, her sensitive place swelled, making everything so tight neither moved inside her. Thomas stopped massaging her and groaned. The keening tension inside her sex grew until she exploded with pleasure so intense, so exquisite, hot tears ran down her face hidden by the mask.

  "She's coming,” the jester said, and began to thrust in and out of her, and all of them breathed hard and loud.

  Coming?

  What a foolish word for this magnificent occurrence happening throughout her body. The bursts of pleasure continued until she was submersed in the glorious experience.

  Wonderful.

  Miraculous.

  Thomas thrust harder in her butt and shuddered. “I'm like an untried whelp. For shame."

  One of the two at her hands jerked and shot a stream of hot juices onto her once, then a second time less enthusiastically.

  Thomas slipped out of her, but held her while the jester moved faster. Having him inside her felt almost as good as what he'd called coming. Her sex clutched greedily at him. So this was what she'd been missing. The remaining cock in her hand seemed to swell right before its owner jerked and another spurt of hot juice splashed her.

  Only the jester failed to have his moment. He grunted as he eased in and out of her more rapidly. He labored until buried to the hilt and strained against her. A second time sweet tension enveloped her and she welcomed it with a hum at the back of her throat. The pleasure built until a sharp burst took her over the edge. The jester shuddered and began to thrust again. His hot juices filled her.

  Exquisite.

  Perfect.

  * * * *

  Arden didn't know what had hit him when he filled the woman's tight recesses with three strong streams of cum and still his cock stayed hard. He was no match for this dangerous liaison. He started pulling back to leave her when he spewed again inside her. This time his juices came so hard it almost hurt. His balls dropped and when he eased out of her, his knees were trembling. “Bloody hell."
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  His uncle's woman made him weak with desire, and Arden didn't like it. Could his uncle tell? He looked away from her to where his nemesis sat bound and gagged. The man's head was bowed again. At least there was that.

  The others were strangely mute and that didn't sit right either. When he pulled away to seek his costume, Thomas did likewise and then the other two. Arden knew he must look a fool, but he wanted out of the room before he did something he'd regret.

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  CHAPTER 4

  "You have a visitor."

  Lady Catharine looked away from the delicate garment in her hand to see Henry in the doorway. Even three months since the fateful night he'd witnessed her indiscretion the man couldn't look her in the eye. “Who is it?"

  "Young Lord Harcourt, come to make his claim."

  She'd been expecting this. “Tell him I'll be with him shortly.” Securing her needle, she set her work aside. While the task of settling with her husband's nephew wouldn't be pleasant, fate had a way of working its magic. She no longer feared the interloper.

  When she entered the drawing room, a figure stood facing the fire in the hearth with his back to her. The tall man wore a coat cut to enhance his form. Wide shoulders veered down to a trim waist. His pants, much too snug, revealed muscular legs before they dipped into his shiny boots.

  His thick blonde hair, gathered at the nape of his neck with a dark band of braided trim, fell almost to his waist. From behind, he looked nothing like her former husband. As he turned to cast his gaze upon her, she nearly gasped. He had the most incredible golden eyes, which nearly melted into the golden glow of his skin. The man was far too arresting.

  "Lord Harcourt."

  He tossed a cigar into the fire and stepped nearer. Even from across the room his expression could be read. The man hated her. Too bad. Soon he'd hate her still more and be powerless to do anything about it.

  "Lady Harcourt. Please call me Arden. My given name is Arden Caswell Harcourt.” He gave a well-executed bow in his tailored coat. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "Please, do sit down,” she offered as manners dictated, when she really wished to see him in otherwise engaged, preferably somewhere far away from her home, so not to be affected by his engaging looks. She didn't like his presence ... or perhaps it was that she didn't trust her reaction to him.

  He stepped nearer a chair and then waited for her to cross the floor. When she sat on a divan opposite, he brushed back his coat and perched upon the edge.

  His mood changed and now couldn't be discerned from his handsome face, nor did any part of him fidget about. While this interview had her tied in knots, Lord Harcourt seemed almost bored by the circumstances. “I would imagine you know what brings me to Harcourt Manor."

  She'd been ready to give a quick retort, but something about him worried her and she hesitated. His strong jaw pronounced him determined, his full lips seemed to be ready to disapprove her, and his perfect nose disdained her. While she wished to delay the inevitable, she couldn't conceive of a plan other than the obvious, which would only gain her a few months. “You mistakenly believe you are heir to my husband's fortune.” Had that sounded as she intended ... leaving no doubt to her official claim?

  "I assure you, I'm rarely mistaken about anything, especially not this. This estate cannot pass to a woman without Harcourt blood flowing in her veins. And then it would only because there were no living male heirs."

  Again the unique sound of his voice gave her pause. “I understand that well, Lord Harcourt. My husband's heir sleeps within my womb. Six months hence he will make his presence known and take his rightful place as the master of his father's estate."

  The handsome man jerked back in his chair as though she'd slapped him. “You're breeding?"

  "My doctor confirmed it only days ago."

  Instead of angering him, he smiled widely, showing beautiful white teeth. “Upon my word.” His disarming smile gave way to a loud laugh echoing off the cold stone walls, but the sound didn't bring forth a joyful response from Catharine. Even as he chortled with glee, it sounded hollow of true enjoyment. “Have you considered there's a fifty-fifty chance you carry a girl?"

  Catharine wouldn't accept it. Her baby was a boy and heir to the estate of her late husband. She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Only time will tell."

  "This is an unexpected event."

  Indeed, it was. Especially for her since her husband had so seldom managed to find his way to her sex before he shot his cream. And it had been months before his death, but no one knew that fact, save her. “You'll find little amusements here in the country. I doubt you'll stay long."

  He stood to tower over her, and it took everything she had not to cower in the chair. He stared down at her, his amber gaze burning into her. His strong jaw clenched, but his firm, full lips remained closed. And what lips they were. She shook her head to rid herself of the unwelcome diversion.

  "I'm amused already and I'm sure I can develop a ... taste ... for the country."

  The raspy sound of his voice as he spoke the word taste with entirely too much sentiment gave her a start. Wriggles traveled about and then headed straight to her sex, allowing a burst of pleasure to wash through her over which she had no control. Since the evening three months earlier when she'd learned about the great pleasure a woman could enjoy, she'd suffered withdrawal, but this reaction to this unwelcome gentleman took her by surprise.

  His lips curled into a half-grin and he stroked the side of his face. His hands were large and the movement made her clench inside again. This wouldn't do. Of all people, she didn't dare lose control with this one. Besides it couldn't be good for the baby's sake to dwell on such improper things. Since she'd learned about the secret pleasures a woman could enjoy, she wanted them all the time ... every hour of the day was spent in contemplation of how to accomplish this feat without a mate. “I leave you to get settled. Please inform Henry if you find anything not to your satisfaction."

  "I'm not easily satisfied."

  She didn't know what to say or how to take his words and especially didn't care for the way they made her warm and tingly where she had no business being so. He stood too near. Should she rise, it would be much too close for comfort. With as much decorum as she could muster, she stood.

  Thankfully, he stepped back to give her sufficient space to maneuver, but not enough to avoid his scent, which gave her another inappropriate wriggle inside. This wouldn't do.

  "I trust you will be comfortable here.” She gave only a slight curtsey and didn't allow for his response before she turned to leave. When he caught her arm, she flinched, jerking away. Now he would know for certain how he affected her.

  "I beg your pardon.” He gave a contrite wince and followed with a bow. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Lady Catharine. I'm sure I'll be very happy installed wherever you would have me."

  She would see him installed in the stables in a heaping pile of dung. Warm welcome, indeed. Somehow the man knew how her insides burned...

  "One more matter ... with your indulgence I wish to install a friend as cleric to this parish. It's my understanding none has been in residence for some time now."

  What a stroke of luck for the current Lord Harcourt to be a man who would see to the spiritual needs of the parish. Catharine's feet fairly flew toward the stairway, as though the gates of hell would be cast open with further words.

  * * * *

  Arden wanted to dash after Catharine, but thankfully his balls had swollen into a painful iron mass that stopped him from making a complete and utter fool of himself. Even for a man well-acquainted with the mores of the world, the moment he saw her, she'd cast a spell on him, a curse.

  Wrong. She'd done that months earlier, and he'd suffered quitting her ever since. The first sight of her delightful face nearly brought him to his knees. If his uncle believed her to be unattractive, the man was a fool and a blackguard to boot. Beautiful didn't begin to apply to her arresting features
, big blue eyes, bright and intelligent, a saucy nose and lips beyond compare.

  Arden already had persistent memories of her sparkling blue gaze from behind the mask. Without a mask to hide her face, he could see her blue orbs were framed by black mink lashes, so thick and long they seemed to flutter about when she blinked.

  No doubt her lips were her best feature, and this he hadn't anticipated. Beyond plump and ripe, her lips were made for love. No other occupation, even speech, would do them honor. The idea of them surrounding his cock-head made him rub his hand over his stiff piece.

  Her glorious black hair hung like a mane about her shoulders and down her back. The longing to view her again in her naked glory made him roar inside.

  His present course would have been in peril even not for her declaration of birthing an heir. The woman had him by the balls with only her presence, but it was even more aggravated by her condition. His friends said he'd been bewitched by her from the moment he'd been given her journal by an upstairs maid. Indeed, he'd pored over the renderings for days, and did even still. The thought of residing behind these walls with her drove him insane. How could he be expected not to fall prey to her wiles?

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  CHAPTER 5

  While her confinement presented the perfect excuse to make absent whenever and wherever possible, as the days leaped forward, she found herself employed in a curious occupation. She lurked about the windows hoping to chance a view of the handsome lord. Even venturing about the manor, his presence lurked in the form of his scent, his half-smoked cigars as they lay about or her favorite books gone missing from the library.

  Just as she rightly predicted, the sound of a horse on the cobblestones signaled he'd arrived home from his morning ride. He wore no hat and his wild, golden hair flowed with a life of its own. She envied the flush on his excessively handsome face and the smile upon his lips, for she'd had little reason for joy of any sort. Since his arrival, sleep had evaded her, replaced by the most inappropriate dreams of a jester and his raucous companions.