Lady In A Box

by Brit Blaise

  When a carriage rolled into the courtyard moments later, it took her by surprise. Her mood took an agreeable turn. Guests came so rarely to the manor, she couldn't wait to see who was about. She made ready and then rushed downstairs to find Lord Harcourt ushering three men through the door.

  "Lady Harcourt, may I present three of my closest companions? Matthew Gadner.” Lord Harcourt swept his hand toward the tallest of the three.

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Harcourt,” Mr. Gadner said with a bow, to which she responded with the mandatory curtsey.

  "Thank you, Mr. Gadner."

  "And this fellow is William Wright."

  The man gave a nod to Lord Harcourt before he looked at her. “It's a pleasure.” He bowed and she acknowledged it appropriately.

  "Mr. Worth at your service,” the third man said, without waiting for Lord Harcourt's formalities and the bow was deep enough he could not have witnessed her reciprocate with her curtsey.

  "The pleasure is all mine,” she said once the introductions were accomplished. She dipped into a more formal curtsey and all three of the men bowed in unison, after which she made for the drawing room.

  "Please, have a seat unless your visit is confined to Arden's pleasure.” Using his given name almost seemed an impertinence, but he'd insisted. “I avow the most unfortunate circumstance borne from a solitary life is a lack of visitors.” She took her chair and the men followed suit. This opportunity to watch Lord Harcourt interact with his peers was too great a temptation to allow to pass.

  "Arden, what say you? Have you done naught to entertain the mistress of Harcourt Manor?” Mr. Gadner asked as he took the chair nearest to her.

  Lord Harcourt seemed to weigh the seating with undo concern before he settled on the settee to her right. That left the long divan against the wall for the remaining two gentlemen. One sat, while the other took a casual turn about the room enjoying the many portraits and works of art.

  "Milady is retiring and we've only come upon one another a handful of times in this sprawling house in the fortnight since I arrived,” Arden said.

  Mr. Gadner smiled and leaned closer. “We've come to see Samuel installed as parish cleric. Perhaps then he will give up the sack-cloth and ashes he's donned over the past few months when he finds souls to save aplenty. He's convinced he's the world's foremost repentant sinner."

  "What have you found to amuse you?” Arden asked of the man who'd stopped to examine her pen-and-ink sketch of the female form, one of the few pieces her late husband had deemed worthy to be displayed.

  "The figure represented here is reminiscent of the Venus de Milo."

  Catharine took a moment to collect herself before she answered. Why did he pick that modest rendering of hers to critique? “I can't really say."

  "Do you draw, Lady Harcourt?” Mr. Gadner unwittingly put her back to the wall with his inquiry, since her artwork had been the source of much of her current state. Now, with a babe inside, she needed more than ever to mend her ways. He couldn't know it was a self-portrait, since the face was obscured.

  "Not as well as I would prefer, Mr. Gadner. It was required in my father's household of all my sisters, of which I was the least talented if I'm not mistaken."

  Mr. Gadner beamed as though she'd greatly entertained him with her simple explanation. “Sisters. How delightful. There are more at home like you then?"

  "I confess to being the youngest, but my latest news of my sisters is that all remain happily entrenched within my father's bosom. I had only celebrated sixteen birthdays when the late Lord Harcourt sought my father's permission to wed. While it was heartily disapproved by Papa, my eldest sister showed no compassion for my plight and won out in the end. I was shipped off as a bride, while the others have languished in their spinsterhood."

  "Are you all of similar natures?"

  What a peculiar question. “I suppose so, after a fashion. My eldest sister is the prettiest by far, but her fiery temper has become legendary. Without a mother's gentle character, she's taken the role of mistress in the household, and none have the gumption to gainsay her."

  "She agreed that you should marry Lord Harcourt then?"

  "She did so with words, but I could have sworn she hated him. Not once did she have an accommodating word for him. Since my mother died giving birth to me, all of my sisters sought to protect and coddle me. I've never understood how Lord Harcourt secured her acceptance. Now that he's gone I suppose I will have the answers I've long sought. Two of my sisters are on their way from Sussex for an extended visit."

  Lord Harcourt made a sound, which drew her attention. “Won't they languish in this desolate locale?"

  "They find polite society only barely tolerable. I'm not sure any of them believe in marriage, if the truth be told. My father has afforded them the luxury of not being forced into matrimony."

  Arden gave her a thoughtful stare. “I've learned more about you in these few minutes than in the weeks since my arrival. Extraordinary."

  Mr. Gadner made a gesture toward her. “Do all of you have dark hair?"

  "Are you seeking a match, Mr. Gadner? Yes, all except for Caroline, who has little hair at all."

  All of the men stared at her as though she'd grown a second head. “Caroline Francis fancies herself the modern Joan of Arc. She keeps her hair unfashionably short and considers it her sworn duty to enlighten all the heathens in our parish to their Christian responsibility. This wouldn't be so much a problem if not for her diverse and shockingly irrational interpretation of the Word.

  "Caroline Francis is one of the two sisters coming to visit. Lydia will come with her. She's second to the oldest and also a distinct character in her own right."

  "Pray tell, what makes this so?” Mr. Gadner inquired.

  "She would live in Papa's stables if he would allow. I often think of her when I see Lord Harcourt ... Arden take his morning ride. Lydia always enjoys a good romp about the countryside to keep her blue moods in check."

  "I wasn't aware you noticed how I occupy my time."

  This is what came of giving into the need to be social. Her tongue couldn't be trained into submission. “I only thought to mention it. Since my quarters overlook the courtyard, I hear the sound of horse's hooves upon your departure each morn."

  "I beg your indulgence."

  "I'm quite undisturbed. In point of fact, it's for that reason I finally reached out to my sisters. I must admit, until recently, our relationships were strained. They've not visited since my marriage, nor was I permitted to go to them."

  "Because your family abandoned you to my uncle ... I would have written them off for all of my life, should it have been me."

  His words startled her. In truth, Catharine had planned never to speak to any of them again, so great was her displeasure at being given over to an old man. But five years was too long to stay angry, especially with a babe on the way and no more burden of answering to an unreasonable husband. Besides, she'd never blamed Lydia or Caroline Francis and had kept a correspondence with them, while sparse. “Well, now, I believe I will leave you gentlemen to your own devices. I have no doubt Arden is a capable host."

  She rose and those seated did likewise.

  "We'll have the pleasure of your company at dinner?” Mr. Gadner asked.

  It would be most ungracious not to help with their guests. “If I'm not indisposed.” She had every intention of joining them, but her contrary nature would not give Arden a ready retort..

  * * * *

  When Lady Catharine left, his friends visibly relaxed, especially Wortworth, who Arden knew had dreaded seeing her again.

  Thomas Gadner had stood when she exited the room and now fell back into his chair. “In my opinion, that went well. Your summons was so vague I'd imagined she had grown two heads since our night with her."

  "She has. She's with child."

  The look of horror on Wortworth's face made Arden wince. “Lord Frederick is laughing from his grave,” gasped Wortworth. “I'v
e placed my soul in eternal torment for naught."

  "If your soul is in peril, the rest of us will burn forever. You're a saint in comparison to our comportment.” The tone of Thomas’ voice showed his displeasure. “Could the child be yours, Cas?"

  The night they'd used the lady, he'd been called by the shortened version of his middle name, Caswell. He must remind them not to do it now. Arden didn't understand his own nature in this situation, even after over thirty years of life. To wit, he'd never been so challenged by a woman or a circumstance so rife with complications. He could hardly come out and ask the lady if by chance she'd conceived the night he and his three friends became intimately acquainted with her.

  He'd placed both himself and the lady in an untenable situation when he'd acted out of malice, without even a stray niggling of forethought for the woman. It was entirely possible the child in her belly was his, since the event coincided with their liaison. If she bore a male child, he would be heir to a fortune ... Arden's rightful inheritance. “The thought has occurred to me, but I have no idea how to confirm it. It's said my uncle died while ... a happy man."

  Thomas kicked a table. “Bloody hell!"

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  CHAPTER 6

  The evening meal, while entertaining, made Lady Catharine cranky and on edge, more so than she'd been, which was no small feat. Arden spoke little and seemed just as uneasy as she. When given reason to escape her male company, she did. Secure in her room, she sank back onto her thick silken pillows and spread her legs. As had been her custom since the night after her adventure, she proceeded to pleasure herself. Her body demanded a release. With one hand, she drew her nether lips apart to have access to the nubbin that made her exquisite delight a certainty in only a short space of time.

  As the pleasure escalated with speed, she lamented the forces at work within her body that no woman should have to endure. Not only was Lady Catharine breeding, but she'd become insatiable to have this ... this fulfillment she'd lived so long without, but now craved as much as the air she breathed. The desire for a man's cock rutting inside her gnawed at her with constant craving.

  Many a day she prowled her private chambers much like a caged animal, seeking to devour any man with a cock between his legs.

  As her pleasure escalated, she began to pant to prolong the enchanting process. The mental image of the jester's huge rod nearly sent her reeling over the edge. How often did she think of it ... of him? A thousand times throughout the course of a day? Who was the man behind the mask?

  To make matters worse, since Arden's arrival, she'd plummeted from bad to worse. She imagined him to be the jester and drooled over him like a bitch in heat. Only wouldn't she have had a hint of his amber eyes? But that night, she'd seen nothing but darkness behind the mask. Now with three more men in the house, she knew where her mind would travel ... to her rendering of Lady in a Box.

  She gotten away with it last time and even secured her immediate future with an unborn child, only a small bump in her belly at the moment. She dared not ever be so bold again. Now she had to guard her child from gossip.

  So close. She relaxed away from the nubbin, threw her arms wide and floated on a plateau. Grabbing two handfuls of sheets, she forced her will to stave off the glorious outburst, while her pussy ranted otherwise. Lady Catharine had no option but to pacify the capricious body part.

  She'd just released the sheets to give herself a quick and forceful finish when the snick of the door lock to her inner chamber made her freeze.

  Who?

  How?

  A figure stepped into the room and the sound of door closing sent fissions of excitement along her already heightened nerve endings. Like a ghostly apparition, he glided across the room heading straight for her bed.

  "My lady."

  The voice at once gave a familiar impression and when he drew near, the moonlight from a nearby window fell upon his masked face.

  The jester!

  Impossible.

  Had she finally toppled over the fence and landed in her own personal Bedlam?

  "Were you awaiting my arrival?” He gave a shrug and the black garment he wore dropped to the floor with a swish. He stood bath naked in the moonlight, save for the mask. Her already unwieldy sex clenched with such vigor her back bowed.

  "How did you come to be here?” Her words came out breathless and harsh.

  He didn't answer, instead touched his hand to the magnificent log standing erect between his legs. He gave a throaty chuckle. “Would you have me take this and disappear?"

  "I would have it inside me."

  * * * *

  The delightful aroma of the lady's sex clung to air surrounding her bed. Arden had no doubt how she'd been employing her time only seconds before his opportune entry into her chambers. Did she pleasure herself every night like this? Since he came to the manor he'd wanted her naked and writhing beneath him. He never imagined the reality would fall so easily within his grasp.

  His desire for a taste of her had nearly driven him insane from the moment of his arrival. At first the news of her condition deterred him, until he discovered it shouldn't matter. Everyone from whom he sought counsel told him the same thing ... if he took care not to become overly raucous with his affections, the babe would suffer no ill effects.

  Arden wanted to caress her beautiful body from head to toe, but his near-bursting cock wouldn't have it. With determined persistence, it demanded immediate satisfaction, and Arden wanted her far too much to tarry. As if she read his mind, the temptress spread her legs wider and stared at his pulsing shaft.

  Arden didn't hesitate to lower his weight onto her lusciously rounded belly. His cock bucked and twitched. She lifted her knees and reached for him, only to guide him to her warm, wet core. He pulled up, placing the weight of his upper body on his arms, while his cock-head penetrated her.

  Just like before, she was too tight to take with abandon and her delicate condition demanded even additional care. However, Lady Catharine lifted her hips and forced him deeper.

  Minx.

  Puffs of air from her soft pants stirred the hair upon his forearm near her mouth. How he wanted to cast off his mask and lose himself in the softness of her full lips. The occasional squeak she gave nearly sent him off.

  Beyond intoxicating.

  The rakehell had met his match.

  * * * *

  Lady Catharine's sex grew thick and full, apparently making it difficult for the jester to ease in and out at anything other than a snail's pace. He had only just begun and her completion loomed for the second time, of that she had no doubt. She vacillated between the desire to rush headlong into the sweet deliverance and to stave it off to allow the cutting edge of bliss to keep her suspended in this special place. Indeed, she never wanted to leave it ... it was so much better than anything she could've accomplished left to her own devices.

  Before she chose one preference over the other, her sex opened like a fast blossoming flower to shower her with thousands of dancing stars. When the delicious chaos receded only somewhat, Lady Catharine couldn't believe her good fortune. The continuing bliss was brilliant ... intense, white-hot delirium, and she wanted as much as she could get.

  Her jester moved easier now as confirmed by the slap of his mammoth ball sac against her backside. A glistening sheen of sweat coated his lovely hard body in the moonlight as he rutted with expert agility.

  With no warning, a bone-jarring bolt of pleasure took her so hard she lifted him when her back bowed. Her greedy sex clutched at him and the man threw back his masked face to howl. His wing went askew as his entire body jerked and shuddered.

  He thrust into her harder than before.

  Once.

  Twice.

  He pinned her to the bed, while quivering like a ribbon in a gusty wind. When next he eased out of her, his hot juices oozed from her core to dampen the sheets beneath her. He lifted. “Sleep well, Lady Catharine."

  She watched him rise from her be
d in the moonlight like a fabled Norse god, felt the shift of the mattress, the cool air surrounded her damp, naked skin and she wanted to ask him to stay. Instead, she remained quiet while he retrieved his cast-off garment from the floor and turned away from her as he pulled it over his arms.

  She needed to say something.

  What?

  "Thank you,” would have to suffice.

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  CHAPTER 7

  After a week of clandestine visits from her masked man, Lady Catharine floated about the estate on wings, borne by satisfaction she hadn't known existed on earth. Each night her lover came to pleasure her and stayed a little longer every time, until last evening he did the most wonderful thing. He pulled the curtains tight so no light shone upon them and then removed his mask to use his mouth ... not to kiss her, but down there. It was pure bliss!

  Lady Catharine employed each day to attempt to discover his identity. It couldn't be Mr. Worth, not only because of his aspirations to become cleric to the parish, but his stature didn't meet that of her masked lover. Mr. Wright was only an inch or so taller than Mr. Worth, while both Lord Harcourt and Mr. Gadner were both very tall, like the jester. Which one? Since Mr. Gadner sought her company most often, she believed him to be the most likely candidate. Besides, haughty Lord Harcourt was more concerned with fattening his purse to be a good lover. The way he carried on about the condition of her husband's ledgers and accounts one would think her late husband had only had half a brain.

  Her husband. She had been with him for five years before he'd died and didn't really know him well. He'd never been her lover in that he seldom managed to get his small cock inside her. More often than not, his very large stomach hindered his aim, and he didn't succeed before he squirted his juices and shrank. He always blamed her for his failure.

  Her mission to discover the jester's identity was made much more difficult by the arrival of her sisters, Caroline Francis and Lydia. Their first night there, as she took her customary seat for dinner, Catharine marveled at the changes in her life. She'd sat in this same chair since she'd come to the manor almost five years earlier, and not once had any of her family come to visit.