by Josie Litton
“A lifetime” Lucius said when he finally raised his head. His amber gaze caressed her with tender wonder. “With options for renewal thereafter.”
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HIS LORDSHIP’S DOWNFALL
JOSIE LITTON
© 2017 Josie Litton
With profound apologies to Jane Austen, who through no fault of her own inspired this tale of dark contemporary romance. Although M/F, monogamous and HEA, this story is far more explicit than any I’ve written before. Sexual exploitation, casual misogyny, brazen revenge, graphic language including frequent appearances of the c- word, and the use of unconventional devices for intimate purposes are only a few of its many sins. Read solely at your own discretion.
Lord Adrian Burleigh is a handsome, autocratic aristocrat with a taste for sadism. In his world--where a modern-day British Empire still rules most of the globe--there are no limits for a man of such wealth and power. His privileged life is comfortable, controlled and predictable. Until, that is, he decides to acquire a “pet”.
Early on, the reader is likely to conceive a desire to do terrible things to Lord Adrian despite--or because of--his wicked appeal. Rest assured, the arrogant lord will receive his just deserts. Of course, because this is a romance, he will be the better man for it.
Chapter One
Tall, lithely muscular and at the age of thirty-two in the full bloom of vigorous manhood, Lord Adrian Burleigh was known around town as a connoisseur of fine wines, antique weapons, and the wettest, tightest, most agile cunts on offer. But lately, all that had begun to pale.
He wasn’t precisely sure why but he thought that it might have something to do with his marriage to Lady Annabelle Withers, Bunny to her friends. Theirs was a brilliant union of wealth and bloodlines, a raging success by any measure save for the fact that the two participants loathed each other. Not that it mattered. Thanks to the miracles of modern science, he would not have to be in the same room with Lady Annabelle--or even on the same continent--when he sired his heir. For that, he was truly grateful.
Having given due regard to his obligations to his family line, the responsibilities of his position as His Majesty’s Minister for Commonwealth Affairs, etc., his lordship concluded that the solution to his ennui lay in the acquisition of a pet. Once arrived at that determination, he gave the necessary orders with the brisk efficiency of a man accustomed to being unquestioningly obeyed and turned his attention to other matters.
As had been arranged, the pet was delivered on the Friday directly after the summer adjournment of Parliament. In anticipation of some much needed relaxation, his lordship had decided to go down to the country. That being the case, it was to Burleigh Abbey that the pet was sent.
Lord Adrian himself arrived there a little after 8:00 pm, his departure from London having been delayed by a tiresome toss-up with the New Zealand sub-office that could have been handled by any man of sense rather than rising to the level of his lordship’s attention. But attend to it he did before finally settling into the back seat of his Rolls with a palpable sigh of relief.
He may have dozed a bit once out of the city but he was fully awake when the car turned through the tall wrought iron gates and proceeded up the long drive lined by Lombardy pines to his family’s ancestral seat.
The name, Burleigh Abbey was something of a misnomer. True enough, part of the estate had been an abbey before Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries, after which it became the seat of an ambitious wool merchant whose son married a duke’s daughter and added extensively to the property. Centuries later, most of the older structures remained but they appeared as an afterthought to the glass and copper titanium masterpiece where his lordship maintained his own residence, well away from the distant separate wing occupied by Lady Annabelle on her mercifully rare visits.
It being late spring, lingering daylight revealed gardeners still at work among the expanses of lawns and flowerbeds. Elsewhere, discretely out of sight, servants would be seeing to the final preparations for his lordship’s arrival. Jameson, butler at Burleigh longer than Lord Adrian himself had been alive, would be supervising. In the stables, the grooms would be settling the horses in for the night. In the garages that served as an elegant show place for his lordship’s impressive classic automobile collection, a few last swipes of polish would be given. Further afield, on the home farms, simple decent folk were wending their way home after tending to the spring planting.
In short, everything was exactly as it should be in Lord Adrian’s world. With the added addition of his new pet.
Handing his top coat and gloves off to a footman, his lordship proceeded along the gallery and through the open doors at the far end into the master suite that overlooked a striking vista of rolling lawns and gardens. As he had directed, his pet’s crate had been placed in a far corner. She was crouched in there, the space far too small for her to stretch out. A fall of dark, gleaming hair partly concealed her slender form.
Lord Adrian unlatched the crate, stepped back a pace and said, “Come.”
She did so on her knees, her head down, her gaze properly averted. She was slim and pale; her skin held the opalescent sheen of pearl in pale light. The curves he glimpsed of her breasts, her hips, her ass were more than adequately arousing. Poised on all fours, her breasts hung delectably, swaying slightly.
It was a moment to be savored, for him at least, and he did not hesitate to do so. The girls in the clubs were good for the occasional--or regular--bout of debauchery but this was different. His little pet was his, totally and utterly, thanks to the enlightened laws of his land that made such arrangements mutually consensual, if inevitably unequal.
Even at first glance, he could tell that she was exquisite, exactly what he had ordered. Or she would be with sufficient training. The potential was there at least and for the moment that was enough. Lord Adrian did not think of himself as the end product of generations of avarice and possessiveness but that was the very essence of his breeding. It shot to the fore as he studied his newest acquisition.
Finally, when he felt ready for more, he said, “Stand up.”
She rose gracefully to a height that he judged to be a foot short of his own, hardly unexpected given that he was several inches over six feet. Aside from the pale pink cuffs around her wrists and ankles, and a strategically placed bit of ribbon, she was entirely naked. He savored the sight of her even as he envisioned times when it might amuse him to allow her some scrap of clothing for his own indulgence.
Her eyes remained down. He wondered in passing if she was taking in the huge bulge of his cock, straining against the fine worsted of his trousers since his first glimpse of her between the bars of the crate.
His every instinct was to bury himself in her at once, pound her senseless and fill her with his cum--cunt, ass, throat, all of it. Then do it again, as many times as he had to before he was, however temporarily, satisfied.
There was no impediment to his doing so. It should go without saying that the contract between them was in rigorous compliance with the laws of the British Empire as well as the county of Sussex and the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea where his lordship maintained his principle residences. It was also both detailed and explicit, as seen to by his solicitors. With certain obvious restrictions involving her overall health and safety, the rights it gave him--to which she had agreed--amounted to carte blanche. The temptation to make use of them to their full extent was all but overwhelming.
> But that was not the proper way to train a pet. He was a peer of the realm, resolute and disciplined. His carnal appetites existed for his own pleasure; never would he be ruled by them. She, on the other hand, was a creature of pure carnality, existing for no other reason that his sexual satisfaction, a beautiful, breathing fulfillment of every wet dream whose sole purpose was to serve his every whim.
The sight of her hands folded modestly over her cunt sent a flicker of displeasure through him. She would learn better than to try to keep anything from him.
“Put your arms at your sides.”
His pet obeyed but not before he noted the smallest flicker of hesitation. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. He would train that out of her quickly enough and enjoy doing it.
“Lift your head.”
He saw in a glance large, thick-fringed light blue eyes beneath lush mahogany hair, a small, straight nose, rounded chin, and high cheekbones. A flicker of the uncertainty of youth was evident but beneath it a hint of…strength? Defiance? He could tolerate the first, wanted it in fact given how hard he intended to use her. But the second? He would waste no time before scourging that out of her.
His focus was drawn to her full soft mouth, a shade somewhere between a lush candy apple and his favorite red Ferrari, the upper lip slightly larger than the lower, exactly the sort of lips a man lusted to see sliding tautly up and down the length of his cock.
The rest of her was no less appealing. Her breasts were large for her slender frame but jutted upright and pert, begging for his hands. He imagined the weight of them in his palms and felt his cock jerk. The nipples, trained to perpetual erectness, were like ripe red berries surrounded by aureoles of pale pink cream. Her torso was lithe and tapered down to the indentation of her small naval. Her hips were narrow but curved, her thighs toned and in the gap between them he had no difficulty seeing the perfection of her cunt.
He had been quite specific about that cunt--hairless, modest outer lips, delicate inner labia, tight vagina with an intact hymen that would require some effort to break through, and a highly responsive clit. Some of that he could confirm at a glance but most still eluded his gaze. Not surprisingly, given his other specifications.
Before being delivered, her exquisite nipples had been pierced; they now sported gold rings just large enough for him to hitch his smallest finger through. A third ring adorned her pierced clit hood or at least he assumed that it did given her condition.
Her flushed skin and the pearly moisture slicking her inner thighs testified to the effect of the small but powerful vibrator attached to the hood ring and nestled directly against her clit. It was achieving the desired effect but then it could hardly do otherwise snugly secured as it was beneath the outer labia that he had ordered pierced and laced together by a white silk ribbon.
The lacing appeared so tight that not even a finger could slip between those succulent lips, much less a cock. If he had any second thoughts about effectively locking her cunt away for the moment, he did not succumb to them. To the contrary, his resolve to demonstrate his control even in the face of such extreme carnal temptation redoubled.
“Turn around.”
She spun on her bare feet, affording him a view of a slim, graceful back and what had to be the sweetest ass he had ever seen, high, toned, elegant but still generous enough for a man to grasp in the heat of passion. Arched over a paddling bench, her ankles and wrists secured, she would be a delight to discipline. He imagined her with a length of peeled ginger protruding from her anus, the sting of it agonizing as she clenched reflexively with every blow of the cane he would wield. Or the flogger…crop…belt…there were so many choices when it came to training her, starting with the most basic. The palm of his right hand twitched.
Confident in his decision to begin as he meant to go on, he said, “Bend over. Keep your legs straight and take hold of your ankles.”
When she had done so, he approached her, reaching low enough to smooth his palm over her back from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine near the cleft of her ass. Her skin was warm from her arousal and meltingly soft. She quivered under his touch.
“You are to hold this position no matter how stressful it becomes. Understand?”
Jerkily, she nodded.
He took his time, stroking the rounded curve of her bottom and squeezing her taut cheeks at his leisure before finally pulling them apart. Exposed to his gaze, her asshole was a small pink rosebud. Circling his index finger around it, he pressed inward lightly.
She sucked in her breath and wobbled.
The palm of his hand struck her ass hard, once and again in quick succession, reddening both cheeks. She gasped and almost fell over, only just managing to stay upright.
“I told you not to move,” he said pleasantly. “Are you going to be disobedient?”
Mutely, she shook her head.
Reaching for the lube set out on a nearby table, he coated his finger and again applied pressure to her anus. Again, she flinched. He ignored that small transgression and thrust inward slowly, savoring the tightness of her virgin ass. Some pets came already trained in such matters; he had specified that she should not. She was his to teach, to train, to shape to his will, his alone.
He continued, stretching a second finger into her, until she moaned raggedly. Through all this, her legs had been shaking. Finally, they gave way. She sprawled on the floor.
“Bad girl,” he said with satisfaction. Bad indeed, in just the way he wanted.
Grasping her arm, he hauled her to her feet. “It’s really very simple. Bend over, grasp your ankles, stay that way. Do try to manage it.”
When she had assumed the position again, he added, “You will bear this, as you must, and you will learn from it.”
He hit her then, hard and repeatedly, on her ass, her upper thighs, between them, hit her until her flesh was red, tears were rolling down her cheeks, and his palm burned.
“That’s better,” he said, studying his handiwork. Her ass had the glow of a ruby, her thighs shook with the strain of her effort to obey, and her bound cunt was fully on view between her spread legs. He watched the small spasms ripple through her as he stroked his fingertips over her perineum to where the lacing began just above the opening to her vagina. Pressing against the white silk, he traced a path up to her clit where he felt the relentless throb of the vibrator.
It had been in place for hours, put on her before she was dispatched from London, endured throughout the journey and ever since. If she had been capable of coming, she no doubt would have done so by now multiple times. But the tiny device implanted at the back of her neck--another of the modifications he had ordered but standard for most pets--made it impossible for her to come unless he decided to grant her that relief. The control for doing so was in his pocket, coded exclusively to his bio signature. Until he chose to use it, she could be held suspended on the very edge of orgasm for as long as it pleased him to keep her that way…hours, days, weeks. He had heard of cases where edging was maintained indefinitely, although that seemed cruel even to him.
He thought of her in that state, desperately aroused, soaking wet, swollen, yearning for his touch, for his cock, utterly obedient and compliant.
The perfect pet.
She was panting softly, her skin even rosier. He gave her ass an affectionate pat and said, “You can straighten now. Go lie down on the bed on your back.”
The speed of her response suggested she wanted some relief from his touch, however momentary. He laughed inwardly at the thought of how little good that would do her.
She winced as she reclined but she followed his instructions perfectly. When she was positioned in the center, her arms stretched out over her head and her legs spread wide, he secured her limbs to the rings along the four posters at the head and foot of the bed. The pale pink cuffs were amusing but he planned to replace them with a variety of restraints, some a good deal less pleasant.
But first…
She was stretc
hed out in front of him, completely exposed and helpless, small quivers coursing under her skin, her eyes wide, the pupils dilated. Eagerness threatened to overcome him. With the avidness that echoed his long gone pleasure in the opening of birthday and Christmas gifts, he crouched on the bed beside her and began to undo the lacing.
First, he drew out the bow at the very bottom and released it. Then slowly, savoring every step, he separated the two halves of the ribbon and began easing the silk strands through the tiny piercings along the outer edges her labia. Every motion tugged at those lips and wrung soft gasps from her.
“This ribbon is soaked,” he observed conversationally as he continued pulling it through each hole. He had hesitated over that particular modification but was glad now that he’d decided in favor of it. The piercings were so well done as to be barely noticeable and they would be useful in ways beyond keeping her tightly laced.
As the binding opened and gave way, he began to glimpse her delicate inner lips, like soft pink fronds coated in the pearl of her arousal. She was gasping by then, her cunt pulsing with the agony of her need.
When the ribbon came free at last, he tossed it aside and parted her outer lips with the pads of his thumbs. The tiny vibrator hooked to the ring in her clit hood puzzled him for a moment but there was a simple catch that released it. He slipped the tormenting little object into his pocket for safekeeping.
At the first glimpse of her bared clit, he swallowed a groan. The tiny bundle of nerves was as ripe and swollen as her nipples. So engorged that it protruded past the edges of her labia, it glistened wetly. When he flicked the tip of his finger over it, she cried out, her back bowing. Her response to such a slight touch was stirring. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel when he let her come at last on his cock, spasms convulsing the powerful inner muscles of her cunt, drawing him in even deeper and tighter, milking him--
