by Josie Litton
“W-what?”
With deliberate patience, he repeated, “My shoes. You may start by taking them off.”
Why the man couldn’t take his own shoes off was beyond her but upon reflection, she supposed that might be the sort of service that some addled billionaire who had just written a check for a young woman’s virginity might wish done for him. Her recent studies with Miss Sheridan had made it clear that achieving the necessary erection could be a difficult process for men. Perhaps getting them comfortable in small, incremental steps helped.
Of course, to do as he wanted, she would have to kneel at his feet.
Swallowing the prideful urge to refuse, she lowered herself onto the floor before him. It came as no surprise that his footwear was of the finest cordovan leather, bespoke with beautiful stitching. Warmed by his body, the scent of the leather, a subtle blend of earthiness and elegance, teased her.
Natalia’s fingers felt clumsy as she bent to her task but finally she was able to undo the laces. She was about to slip the shoes off when a bolt of pleasure rippled from her head down her spine and shot directly between her legs, making her feel suddenly swollen and wanting.
The shock of that was so great that she needed a moment to understand what could possibly have caused it
Lucius big hand lay lightly on the back of her head. He was stroking her hair, in effect petting her.
A tsunami of resentment surged right over the fire of passion but failed utterly to quell it. All her concentration was needed to resist leaning into his touch.
As quickly as she could manage, she yanked the shoes off and glared up at him. His mouth quirked. Without removing his hand, he took a sip of his whiskey and said, “Don’t forget the socks.”
The note of amusement made her temper flare yet again but she refused to let him win. If he thought he could fluster her so easily, he was sadly deluded.
And utterly unscrupulous. She had the first sock half-way off when he said, “I’m sure your hair is lovely but you’ll keep the snood on. Nothing should obscure you once that robe is off.”
The thought of herself exposed before him, denied even the covering of her hair, threatened to shatter her composure. She managed to hold onto it only with the greatest of effort.
Even so, the brush of her fingers against his bare skin as she peeled the socks off sent a flare of heat through her. Unwillingly, she stared at his feet. Large and long in proportion with the rest of him, tanned, with a dusting of hair and…sinewy and toughened, not the feet of a man who spent his days sitting custom shod behind a desk.
Rocking back on her heels, she eyed him thoughtfully.
“You fight.”
He set the crystal tumbler down and stared back at her, the amber eyes hooded.
“What did you say?”
Her gaze went to the hands now lying on his knees. Big, blunt-tipped, hardened, hands to wield a weapon but also weapons in their own right. How had she failed to notice that sooner. Assumptions were a weakness she could not afford.
She had sensed the danger in him from the beginning but she had underestimated the source of it. He wasn’t merely a man of wealth and influence who used both to his own ends. There was a physicality about him--immediate and personal--that made him seem a throwback to an earlier, more primitive age.
She shouldn’t have found that arousing but, heaven help her, she did.
Flustered, she said, “You’re right…about my needing practice. That’s what I said…what I meant.”
She was only making matters worse but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. He confused and unsettled her. Nothing about him fit. There were secrets behind the elegant façade of success and dominance, perhaps as many she herself contained.
But she had no time to ponder that. Lucius did not move, not so much as to flex a muscle but the force of his will was unmistakable all the same.
With quiet authority, he said, “Take off your robe.”
Chapter Eleven
Miss Natalia Bollinger was trembling. Through the thin silk of her robe, Lucius could see the little quivers of fear--or anticipation--skimming her delectable body as she knelt at his feet. He found that fascinating and all too arousing.
The latter worried him. As much as he wanted to blame his state of acute erection on a year of celibacy--the reasons for which he was now having trouble remembering--honesty forced him to admit otherwise. It was her--beautiful, virginal, lying, duplicitous and quite possibly dangerous fraud that she was. The cosmic irony of that did not escape him. Of all the women he could have chosen to break his sexual fast with--
He had never wanted a woman to fear him, although he’d been with more than a few who were pleased to do so. But the duplicitous chit’s apprehension was vengefully welcome. It raised the question of exactly how far he could push her before she broke.
Breaking Miss Bollinger. What a dark, delicious thought.
“I said,” he repeated with steely resolve, “take your robe off.”
With composure he couldn’t help but admire, she replied “You must know that’s easier said than done.”
Belatedly, he recalled that though the robes were designed to appear loose and flowing, the impression was misleading. From the shoulder blades to the nape of the neck they were tightly laced in the back, creating what amounted to a collar around the throat and extending with downward pressure to the swell of the breasts. Meanwhile, the rest of the body was left bare under a thin layer of silk, free to be caressed by every wayward breeze slipping under the billowing hems.
“Quite right,” he said a bit thickly. “Turn around.”
Hesitantly, she did so.
Moving the heavy weight of the snood aside, he set to work with unseemly haste. The lacing really was snug, making her feat with the dildo all the more impressive. When he finally managed to loosen it, he couldn’t resist the temptation to run a finger along the back of her slender neck. Apparently, she was quite sensitive there. Tilting his head slightly, he observed her hardened nipples and the flash of small white teeth as she bit down on her lip to stifle a moan.
At long last, he pulled the lacings free and tucked them away in a jacket pocket. Briefly, he tormented himself with thoughts of how else they could be used. Twined tightly around her swollen nipples, perhaps, or even better her clit. Ordinarily, he would never have considered either but with Miss Bollinger, there were no bounds to how far he would go in order to wrest the truth from her.
Parting the sides of the robe, he allowed himself a moment to savor the exquisite softness and vulnerability of her bare neck before he said, “I think you can do the rest.”
She could but it took her awhile. What was undoubtedly motivated by shyness and lack of experience turned into the most exquisite strip tease he’d ever been privileged to witness. That she couldn’t possibly have realized how seductive she was made it all the more enticing.
Slowly, she stood and slower still inched the robe above her ankles, exposing lovely slim calves…knees…a hint of thigh…
“Take your time,” he said, shifting in the leather wing chair. “We’ve got hours and hours.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. Spurred to make a quick end of it, she reached around and began tugging the garment up from the back, in the process affording him a tantalizing glimpse of a bare, sweetly rounded buttock. At long last, the garment was over her head but even then she didn’t let go, instead clutching it in front of her as though the fragile silk could somehow protect her from his lecherous intentions.
Fighting the urge to laugh, Lucius said, “If I have to tug that free, it’s likely to rip, in which case you go back to the abbey naked.”
When she still hesitated, he stood and gently took hold of the robe. Without questioning why he should wish at such a juncture to reassure her, he said, “If it’s any comfort, this won’t be the first time I’ve seen you naked. And no, I’m not referring to when you were being caned.”
A charming flush suffused her cheeks but with it came
a look of vindication. “I knew it! The mirror in the parlor is two-way. You’re a--what’s the word? A voyeur!”
Despite himself, Lucius laughed. She looked so delightful in her outrage. Moreover, pre-occupied as she was in the denouncing his depravity, her grip on the robe had loosened.
Too swiftly for her to realize what was happening, he pulled it away, ran his eyes over her exquisite form and said, “My business requires that I be attentive to such matters, Miss Bollinger. Put your arms at your sides and turn around.”
Rather than do as he said, she crossed her arms over her breasts and stood firm. “Why?”
Because he wanted a full-on look at her delicious ass, imagining as he was those lovely cheeks parted to reveal the base of a heavy gold plug protruding from her rosebud, topped with a jewel perhaps, assuming one could be found the shade of her eyes.
“Because I said so. You really must learn to be more compliant.”
“That is not my strong suit,” she admitted as she reluctantly obeyed.
“So I have concluded.” Damn, how he wanted her under him, his cock balls deep in her lovely cunt while he thrust a ribbed dildo up her ass. The mere thought was torture for him and made him just a tad vindictive.
“Put your arms behind your back.”
When she had done so, still slowly and reluctantly, he removed the laces from his pocket and swiftly looped them around her wrists.
Before she could jerk away, the deed was done. Whirling, she glared at him. “What are you doing? Untie me at once!”
Shaking his head in mock regret, he said, “I perceive that you still have much to learn about pleasing a man.”
“I don’t want to please you! I just want--”
Abruptly, she broke off, leading him to wonder just what she would have said if she hadn’t caught herself in time.
Deliberately, he cupped the fullness of her breasts in his palms and squeezed. Her nipples were darkly pink with lighter aureoles, really quite exquisite. Flicking his thumbs over them, he watched her carefully, observing the flush that spread down her neck and over her breasts. Her breath hitched and she swallowed convulsively but she made no sound.
Unwillingly impressed, he wrapped an arm around her to hold her steady and slipped a hand down over the willowing slimness of her waist to the curve of her hips, her flat abdomen and beyond to the narrow strip of silky hair between her thighs.
Parting her nether lips, he smiled as she gasped. “Relax,” he said. “You’ll become accustomed to being touched.”
She opened her mouth, no doubt to hurl further invective at him, only to gasp as the callused pad of his thumb unerringly found her clit.
Pressing lightly, he continued to gauge her response as he said, “Did you know that there are all sorts of adornments for this particular part of you? Gold and jeweled rings, for example, that will hold these lovely lips apart while displaying this delightful little bud to best advantage.”
Another flick of his thumb and he added, “And then there are clever German toys--superb engineers, the Germans. Among many other things, they’ve invented silver clamps versatile enough to hold you tightly clenched in devilish chastity or conversely spread you wide apart to be played with in all sorts of tormenting ways.”
Again, she stifled a moan.
He lingered a little longer, until satisfied that she was sufficiently hot and wet, her clit swollen and her entire body shivering under the onslaught of arousal.
Despite her best efforts, Miss Bollinger was a sensual creature. Handled correctly, that could be her greatest vulnerability.
Or his. He was rock hard, his cock straining, uncaring of any grand plan to discover her purpose. So far as it was concerned, she had only one.
He stepped away and sat down again. The truth was he didn’t trust himself to remain standing.
“Come here,” he said.
She approached warily, a condition that only heightened when he said, “Get on your knees.”
Unless he was very much mistaken, a look of calculation came and went behind the lustrous beauty of her violet eyes. What exactly she was weighing eluded him but after a moment or two she knelt. Grudgingly, to be sure, and a little clumsily with her arms secured behind her but she did comply.
Eager to see how much further he could push her, Lucius undid his belt, unzipped his trousers and matter-of-factly freed his cock. The sense of relief was immediate but too brief. His erection was actually painful. Fortunately, Natalia’s unfeigned shock coupled with what was clearly her reluctant fascination distracted him.
“Miss Sheridan claims you are a natural,” he said, neatly skipping over the fact that he had witnessed her feat with the dildo for himself.
Realizing what he was referring to--and rather more to the point, why he most likely had brought to matter up--she squirmed against her bonds.
That had the effect of making her lovely breasts bob which brought him even closer to the brink. Drops of pre-come oozed from the bulbous crest so swollen that it was taking on a purple hue.
As for the rest, he had never been one to measure himself against other men. Nonetheless, he was aware that nature had endowed him generously. Overly so some might say, although he had always taken care how he wielded his lance. To date, he’d had no complaints.
Even so, he could see how a young woman of natural talent but inexperience, with only a short period of instruction behind her, might find him daunting.
Best to begin slowly then.
“Pretend it’s a popsicle,” he suggested helpfully. “Or some other confection of your choice. You can start by just taking a lick.”
At the thought of her tongue lapping at him, he damn near came then and there. Only with the greatest effort of will--and his fist squeezed round the base of his cock--did he prevent it.
“Are you sure something isn’t wrong?” she asked, looking up at him.
Aside from the fact that he felt like his randy fifteen year-old self with his first woman?
Thickly, he managed, “How so?”
“Well…you seem to be in a state of considerable excitation.”
Studying his cock with an air of frankly clinical interest, she added, “It was my understanding that the achievement of this state usually requires significantly more time and effort. Yet it appears to have occurred more or less spontaneously with you. Is it possible that you have some sort of condition?”
“Are you serious?”
A little huffily, Natalia informed him, “Miss Sheridan has spent considerable time advising us on how to assist a male in achieving this state.” At eye level with his straining cock, she concluded, “Clearly, nature did not intend for it to occur in any such…haphazard manner.”
Lucius leaned back in the chair and glanced up at the ceiling as though seeking celestial aid. “Clearly, I need to have a talk with Miss Sheridan.”
Batting innocent eyes at him, Natalia asked, “Do you think she could help you?”
Torn between certainty that she was taunting him and concern that she might really believe what she was saying, he stared at the tormenting miscreant.
She was so near, kneeling at his feet, all bare and rosy, hands tied behind her back and that extraordinary mouth that he’d already seen in action poised to take his cock. He could feel her breath all along his agonizingly hard length. He was on the brink but tried to deny it, telling himself that just wasn’t possible. But when, lost in consideration of his “condition”, she stuck out the tip of her little pink tongue and licked her lips, that was it.
Before he could even realize what was happening, an orgasm of extraordinary intensity struck him. Crying out, he arched back in the chair even as his come spurted, arching through the air to land directly all over Miss Bollinger’s delectable breasts.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, staring down at the thick, creamy streams adorning her, splattered over her skin and dripping from the tips of her hardened nipples.
“What the fuck!” he groaned. Nothing like this had ha
ppened to him since… Since ever. He had never come remotely close to losing control so completely, especially with so graphic and extravagant a display.
She was a witch; that had to be it. No, a succubus! Except she didn’t even have to suck. All she had to do was look at him.
He was a dead man. Worse, pussy-whipped and bound to be led around by his cock as though on a leash. Unless he could regain control of the situation quickly.
Considering that it was all he could do at the moment to breathe, the chances of righting the balance between them were remote at best.
Still, he had to try.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I imagine you’d like a shower.”
His sole consolation was that her voice shook a bit as she said, “Yes, I rather think I would.”
Chapter Twelve
“Not hungry?” Kathleen asked. It was the Morning After, as Natalia had come to parse time since leaving Lucius. They were breakfasting in the garden under sparkling sunshine to the accompaniment of the gurgling fountain. She was distantly aware of the fluttering of birds and the muted sounds of the city on the far side of the wall. But all she could really think of was him.
Well, to be fair, there was a little more than that. Him and that astounding cock, quite a bit bigger than the ones in the models. Surely some mention should have been made of such extreme variances in size.
“What--?” she asked, belatedly rousing from the combined effects of salacious thoughts and virtually no sleep.
For once, the room she shared with the other virgins had been blissfully quiet, no sighs or moans or gasps. In the aftermath of their first practice session, everyone else had slept deeply. Not so Natalia who had resolutely refused to provide herself with the relief she so desperately needed. Never would she give him that satisfaction.
Well aware of how absurd that was, she looked down at the plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes and plump sausage that she had scarcely touched.
“I don’t have much appetite,” she admitted.
