by Emily Tilton
“Who was he?” Nele asked softly, still stroking and trying to think what attitude to take to this strange beginning of the tale of her seduction.
With a sob that seemed to Nele to speak of a mingling of her guilt and grief with the smart of the spanking, she said, “A clergyman, my lord.”
“What?” Nele could not help his astonished reaction.
“I was governess to his son,” Susan said miserably to the coverlet. “Oh, my lord, I have never told anyone this. Do you promise to protect me, should I need protection?”
Could he? What had they begun here? All thoughts of his rakishness, of seducing girls like Miss Portia Redding and any others his libertine friends might provide—even of the eventual need to find an heiress, given that his father the duke of Panton’s estate was entailed to Nele’s older brother Robert—seemed to flee from his mind.
Nele possessed enough wit to know that such a flight could not be permanent—that he couldn’t expect that making such a promise to Susan Grant would make that promise easy to keep. Neither could he deny, however, that he found her enchanting and exquisite.
More, she seemed to him exquisite in a way made uniquely for him, Lord Nele Lourcy—younger son, notorious ne’er-do-well, friend to such unforgivable reprobates as the earl of Hobberly—who had made a picaresque career of further corrupting the already fallen. Susan Grant seemed somehow both fallen and innocent, stained and pure. He felt drawn to her as he had never felt drawn to anyone on earth.
“I promise,” he said. “I cannot say exactly what that protection shall comprise, Susan, but I will undertake to keep you safe.”
“My lord,” Susan said with another little sob. “I have come so far into this wilderness of sin and shame that the merest gesture of kindness from you gives me more hope than I have known in many months. Punish me, and have me, but… try to keep your promise, if you can.”
How very strange to hear such words from a girl whose warm, pink, bare bottom he stroked, after spanking it. “I will,” Nele said softly. “Now, if you please, tell me of this monstrous clergyman. For my promise, I expect that I shall know your full history, so that I may chastise you properly for any fault I find in your conduct.”
Chapter Four
Susan found her heart had grown so light that she almost laughed at Lord Nele’s words. “Oh, you shall find many faults, my lord,” she said. “Before I knew that what Mr. Greatrex—that was the clergyman—had done to me was monstrous, I did not mind it so very much, and though he never bothered to rouse me, or to pleasure me, I would lie awake, feeling his seed trickling from my little ring, and I would not be able to keep my hands from my private part.”
“You played with your virgin cunny, then?” Lord Nele asked, a little surprise in his voice, perhaps at the way she admitted to it. “After he had fucked you in your bottom?”
Susan felt her face get hot. What did Lord Nele have about him that could bring back her shame? She still had no idea at all.
“He…” She almost said fucked, but then she remembered that Lord Nele had instructed her not to use salacious language, though apparently he, as a man—as, somehow, her schoolmaster it now seemed—might use it as much as he liked. Was that the answer? Was it the way he could employ his intelligence to match hers, so that the erotic battle to which she had quickly grown so jaded suddenly had new promise—a glimmer of a hope that perhaps more of her might be involved than her simple bodily charms?
“He had me so roughly, that first time,” she said, biting her lip at the memory of the burning in her bottom, the stale taste of the flannel he had shoved in her mouth, just to make sure we do not disturb the house in our pleasures, Susan. “But I found… I found that after he had gone, and the pain had faded a little, another feeling had begun, in front. He had touched me there, a little, before he made me suck his… his manhood—but I think only for his own satisfaction and not to please me at all.”
And yet that little touch had made her pliable, and when Mr. Greatrex had told her to turn over and raise her bottom, so that I may instruct you in the ways of my cock, and the use to which I am entitled, as your employer and as a clergyman, it had made her foolishly eager to see what he meant, because no one had ever told her how wrong it was. Then the pushing, and the whispered commands—Open this little arse, girl, or I shall find a pretext to cane it in the morning, I promise you. The little satisfied grunts, then, along with the burning and the terrible fullness, and his voice above her, There you go. There you go, you wicked, provocative girl. This is what you asked for, when you smiled at me today. Do you like it? Do you like having a big stiff prick up your backside? You’ll have it every night from now on. You’re my arse-girl now, aren’t you?
“So you touched yourself there, you naughty girl? Did it make you feel better?”
“Yes,” Susan whispered. “I had… I spent, for the very first time. And then, when he kept coming to my bed, I did it every time. It felt so good I somehow knew it must be wicked, and I asked Mr. Greatrex about it.”
“What did he say?” Those stroking fingers… for a moment Susan couldn’t even remember how to speak, to answer the question. Had any man ever made her feel so warm, so needy, in the place where it seemed Lord Nele had resolutely determined not to touch her, though it lay only an inch from his lovely, tormenting fingertips?
The hand lifted, came down in a hard spank in the very same place, the bottom of her bottom, but Susan felt no pain at all, only a terrible pleasure that made her cry out as if his hand had wounded her to the quick.
“What did your monstrous vicar say, Susan?” he asked again, more insistently.
“He said it was a w-wicked thing to do, but that… but that since I was a wicked girl who had to have his cock in her bottom I might do it. He made me do it while he watched, and I got so terribly ashamed, but… oh, my lord…” Lord Nele had begun to stroke again. “Oh, please, my lord… please…”
“What, Susan?” he asked softly, though she could tell from the sly quality of his voice that he knew exactly what she craved.
“Please…” How could she say it, when she knew she must not say anything naughty?
“Tell me what I wish to know,” he replied softly, “and perhaps I will reward you by showing that I know how to make a girl spend when I fuck her in her bottom.”
“I… I loved it. I loved being ashamed, and I spent in front of him.” The words came out in a rush. “He told me I should be whipped for being so immodest, but he did not wish to disturb his wife, and so he would only whip me if I told anyone about what he did to me. I was so foolish—I thought he just meant… Well, I asked his wife if he… had her in her bottom, only I didn’t say had.”
Lord Nele’s hand deserted her again, and for a moment Susan feared another spank, but then she realized that he had begun helplessly to laugh. “You didn’t!” he said. “Oh, sweet Susan, truly?”
Sweet Susan. Oh, how very dangerous this felt! “I did, my lord,” she said, almost gaily. Then she remembered the cane. “And that was the end of it. Mr. Greatrex said she must cane me until I confessed how I had heard of those terrible things. And when I said that he had done to me what he had done, she caned me harder, until I said I had lied. Then they turned me out. Mr. Greatrex drove me to the next village, where there was a railway station, and left me there.”
“What a monster!” Lord Nele said.
Susan risked a look back at him, to see that he was shaking his head in sympathy. The strange scene—her bottom bared for chastisement and, if he chose, his pleasure; Susan speaking her tale to the coverlet—began to seem almost like a dream. But how else should Susan tell the tale than in the same position Mr. Greatrex had put her to fuck her bottom every night for a month, and then for his wife to cane her?
“Would you believe, my lord, that halfway to our destination he took me behind a thicket and told me to kneel and furnish my mouth? I thought he would forgive me, and help me somehow, if I did, so I pleased him that shameful way, upon my kne
es in the grass with him holding my head still to use me as he liked, but when he had spent in my mouth he said, As I thought, you are a terribly wicked girl. Perhaps if you had refused me I might have regained some respect for you, Susan, but as it is you must go to London and hope that you may find a wealthy man to enjoy you as I have enjoyed you. If only you had not spoken to my wife, I might even have married you one day, since her health is so poor and your bottom is so fine. Now, however, I despair of you, though I hope you will always remember me fondly as I did not spoil your tight little…” She stopped herself from repeating Mr. Greatrex’ word.
“Cunt?” Lord Nele said from above and behind her, with an air of disbelief. “He actually said that?”
“He did, my lord, though before that day had ended I would… be spoiled there, by a man on the train.” The memory of kind Mr. Oldham made her tone wistful, and brought a smile to her face.
As if he could hear in her voice that her first experience of true, natural fucking, cock in cunt, did not distress her as much as the scenes from Mr. Greatrex’ vicarage, Lord Nele returned his hand to her bottom and began to caress her there again. “On the train?” he asked.
Susan sighed. “He did not… have me—that way—on the train, but I met him there, and… oh, please…” She saw the wood bench of the compartment, heard Mr. Oldham say, What are you doing, miss? when she had knelt before him, hoping to sway him to pity by pleasing him with her lips and tongue the way Mr. Greatrex had taught her. She remembered the taste of his gabardine trousers, the feel of the buttons of his flies as she unfastened them, the sound of his voice—please, miss, that is no way…
To Lord Nele, then, she said, knowing he would punish her for it but freely willing, choosing his discipline, “I sucked his cock, my lord, on the train. I knelt in front of him, and kissed his lap although he told me not to. He could not bring himself to stop me, of course, so I had his prick out and in my mouth before he truly knew what was occurring.”
As she spoke, Lord Nele’s fingers grew more insistent, and then, as she cried out in relief, they at last worked themselves deeper in, touched her private lips, ran further, higher, to the place that felt the greatest ache of all.
“Were you wet, like this?” he whispered. “When you sucked the cock of the man on the train? Are you so very wicked, Susan Grant?”
Did she hear him opening his robe? Oh, heavens, was that the soft slipping of silk on silk, under the shamefully louder slipping of wet fingertips in wet cunt? Her knees tugged apart. Her left hip gripped firmly.
“Yes, my lord… yes… yes.” The last yes she must draw out until it became a great, shuddering moan, for as she said it she felt Lord Nele Lourcy’s cock push gently inside her, and then, as if he could not restrain himself in the pleasure she gave, rush into her cunny until his hips came up against her bottom, still warm from the spanking.
“So wicked,” he murmured. “So sweet, and so wicked.”
“Yes!” Susan cried again. “You will whip me for it, my lord, will you not? Tell me that you will whip me!”
He did not answer, but instead to her surprise she felt his right hand working underneath her waist, until his fingers found her little bud, to rub it firmly, roughly, so that she cried out her submission. Only then did he speak, as he began to move his cock swiftly in and out, not ceasing to pleasure her clitoris—if what he did could be called by that name. “I will whip you, I promise, Susan. But I shall whip you harder if you do not spend for me… right… now.”
Susan had falsified a great many spends in her life, and she would not have hesitated to do so again now, despite the feeling of sacredness that this episode seemed to have assumed. But his words, his hands, and his cock seemed to have taken her into his possession so thoroughly that her body simply responded, and she did spend, harder than she had ever spent in her life, as he pounded into her wildly, his cock driving against the entrance to her womb.
She screamed, she spent, and it seemed to go on and on. Lord Nele grunted, “Yes, girl. Yes. Take it now. Take the cock.” He grasped her shoulder with the hand taken, to her forlorn sorrow, from her cunny, then, and for long, long moments he simply fucked in silence, until at last with a growl he held her by the throat and by the hip and she felt his cock pulse inside her.
Chapter Five
Nele had never taken such pleasure in a fuck. As his hips jerked out his spend against Susan’s lithe hindquarters, the sensation of having his cock engulfed in such a velvety place vied with the purely mental pleasure of learning about her marvelous, shameful past. Before his eyes he seemed to see not just the girl’s shapely form, with her shift now pulled up all the way so that he could see the sweet curve of her back, but also the scene in the train: the eighteen-year-old Susan, abominably misused by the clergyman who had employed her as governess, kneeling before the startled gentleman and opening his flies; the instantly erect prick of the upstanding man who would never have thought to molest a young woman in a railway carriage but who now cannot deny his voluptuous nature. He strokes her hair; he cannot help himself—he pushes down upon the sweet girl’s head to tell her she must accept his cock much deeper than that, if she wishes to have his assistance.
Nor could Nele resist his own voluptuous nature. Though he had just come, he felt his cock already beginning to stiffen. “You’ll suck me now, Susan,” he said softly, “as you sucked the man on the train.”
“Yes, my lord.” Her voice came dreamily up to him from where her face rested against the coverlet. “Whenever you wish it.”
Nele felt his lips curve into a smile. “I meant that I wish it right now. You shall clean your cunt’s wantonness off my cock with your little tongue. I am sure you have been made to taste yourself before.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said. “Lord Granby liked that sort of thing very much. It was he who made me learn to kiss other girls between their legs as well.”
Nele had heard such tales of Granby, whose reputation had even more spots than Bertram’s did, but he had scarcely credited them. He could hardly believe, though, how greatly the idea aroused him: his cock gave a little leap inside Susan’s cunt, and he felt himself begin to stiffen deliciously.
He considered taking hold of her hips again and beginning another ride inside her quim, this one bound to last much longer and perhaps even to make her sore. He found he relished the thought, as if something in him wished to make Susan feel as if her new protector had returned her to a state of virginity, so as to make her feel his first fucking as a new defloration.
But he also realized suddenly that to have her suck his prick the way she had done for the man on the train might be most diverting—that it had something very fitting about it to engage in a sort of ritual reenactment of Susan’s misdeeds. After the sucking, too, perhaps Nele could do to her what the vicar had done, to complete his possession. He pulled out of her cunt, at which Susan gave a forlorn little cry that made Nele’s heart glad. Her sweet backside, her well-fucked quim naughtily bare and visible above her spread knees, attracted his hand like a magnet, and he stroked her bottom cheeks possessively for a few moments while she made wonderful little noises of submission to his touch on her bottom, then to the fingers that pushed wickedly inward to feel how slick he had made her cunny with his seed.
“Mr. Greatrex made you suck his cock, too, you said? He taught you how to please him that way? How did he use your mouth?”
Susan sighed and squirmed a little as Nele’s fingers found her swollen little clit. “He came to the side of my bed each night, my lord, with his hard cock in his hand, and told me that I must get him ready to enjoy my bottom. This was after the first time, when he got into bed beside me and made me touch his manhood, and then to suck it.”
Nele felt he had entered a world of erotic bliss he had never imagined: to have Susan tell him these terrible tales as he touched her, punished her, fucked her, seemed to satisfy him more deeply than he had previously thought possible the act of physical love might do. He walked to the l
ittle settee on the other side of the chamber and sat upon it. “Come show me how much you learned, Susan,” he said. “Kneel before me as you knelt before the man on the train. And remove your shift. I wish you entirely naked, now.”
He watched, enchanted, as she rose and turned to him, biting her lip as if the memories he had forced her to call up in her mind shamed her and fired her blood in equal measures. Slowly and enticingly, she drew the white cotton over her head, showing her perfect little breasts—pink-nippled little handfuls that Nele could not wait to take into his own hands.
Susan laid the shift on the bed and advanced. The sight of the bare cleft peeping between her thighs moved Nele terribly, made his cock give another leap. He must ask her to tell the tale of the first time Sir David had bared her there—it seemed there were so many shameful tales to hear from this girl who seemed unaccountably to have stolen his fancy and even to have touched his heart.
She kept her eyes downcast, as if she had heard from one of her previous keepers or lovers that a man likes to have the power to admire a naked girl without her own gaze disturbing his. Nele watched her raise her eyes as she came toward him, not to his face but to his cock, and he felt his cock respond to that sign of respect: the acknowledgment that Susan owed her service to his virility.
