How she had managed to remain in one piece, one body, she knew not. She quietly sobbed, partially in glee, grateful for the unprecedented euphoria, and partially in sorrow, for having lost her battle.
But it was a most sublime loss.
Chapter Twelve
LEOPOLD BEHELD HIS WIFE. The blush of arousal colored her rounded cheeks, and her thick lashes fluttered as the last wave of ecstasy moved through her. Naked, her hair in disarray, she had never looked more beautiful to him. He slid his fingers from the warm, wet clutch of her quim. Her head lolled, as it had when he had carried her unconscious body from the wine cellar to this room.
Anger pulsed in his groin as he recalled the scene he had stumbled upon over an hour ago. He had brought a tray of lemonade, sweetmeats, and biscuits to Trudie's chamber, excited for all that he intended to show her, proud that his timid wife had blossomed into such a wanton, only to find the room empty. She had left without permission.
At first, he had felt remorseful. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her. She would have to pay the price of disobedience, but his ire had not been raised until he saw her, his cousin Diana, and two other men heading to the stairs that led to the kitchen and cellar. From her unsteady gait, he could see Trudie was in the cups. He had never witnessed his wife inebriated. He suspected it was because of Diana, who had laughed and giggled loudly, as she clung to the arm of her paramour. Leopold had reminded himself to speak with Charles, her husband, to keep a tighter leash upon Diana. He would not normally have cared so much except for her influence upon Trudie.
Leopold had waited for the foursome to return, but only Diana and her paramour, holding a bottle of champagne, emerged. After waiting a few minutes more and still Trudie did not show, Leopold had hurried downstairs to find her in a daze, her legs spread wide, in the corner of the cellar beside the racks of wine. A young man—one of the footmen—knelt before her, holding his erection. He had scrambled to his feet when Leopold had barked at him.
Grasping him by the front of his linen, Leopold had threatened to kick him out of the Château, before tossing the servant away. Leopold had felt the veins in his neck throb. He was cross with the footman for pressing his advantage with an inebriated woman and at the foolishness of his wife. How could she have allowed herself to become so intoxicated? He would not have thought Trudie to possess a reckless bone in her body. Here at Château Follet, however, her qualities surprised him. But, for certain, she would never have come to the Château if not for Diana. Leopold had had a mind to deliver the lesson Diana merited. He doubted Charles capable of doing so properly.
Leopold eyed the chamber he had brought Trudie to. Trudie was completely new to Château Follet. Her unease and discomfort when he had first seduced her this night had been obvious.
But she needed to be taught a lesson. To his surprise, she had wanted it. Wanted the corporal sensations to drown her feelings of guilt. Though she had only had congress with her husband here at Château Follet, in her mind, she had lain with a man other than her husband. In her mind, the adultery was true. At times, he had thought she might recognize him from behind his mask. A few times, he had forgotten to disguise his voice. But she had been too lost in her debauchery to notice. And now, she had spread her legs before one who was most definitely not her husband. A servant. Her wrongs tonight were now many. She did not deserve the pleasure he had granted her body till now, but he needed to ascertain that the fear he had seen in her eyes would not overwhelm all that he did or all that he was yet to do, and the rapture would help sustain the education that awaited her.
He took in the scent of her arousal upon his fingers, then slid them over her plump lips that she could taste herself upon him. She furrowed her brow.
“Where are your manners?” he asked.
Seeing the confusion in her countenance, he tugged on a nipple. She gave a cry before mumbling, “Thank you.”
“Much better.”
She whimpered as he rolled the aching little buds between his thumbs and forefingers, making her breasts protrude. Her areolas were the largest he had ever seen. His arousal stretched as he gazed upon her beautiful bosom.
“I was most sorry to find you gone when I returned,” he said, noting that she did not meet his gaze. “My pride was further wounded when I discovered you with the footman. I had no notion you are such a gluttonous little whore. One cock is not sufficient for you, but it is my aim to give you more than enough.”
She had looked up at him in alarm when he had mentioned the footman. Perhaps she did not remember. It mattered not. He began to unbutton his fall.
“Tell me, how did you enjoy congress with the footman?”
“I did not,” she protested
“You did not taste him before you invited him between your legs?”
Her lips, sweet and plump, formed a frown. “I could not have—I would not have...”
He stroked the member he had freed from his breeches. Her breath grew uneven immediately upon seeing it.
“What would your husband think if he knew you had been given a gown of green by a common servant?”
She shook her head. “I was—I had consumed too much wine. I did not anticipate the effects of it. I would not have willingly submitted myself.”
“No? You were wet for him.”
He saw her mind reeling.
“There was no denying the evidence of your wantonness. I discovered much of it dripping down your thighs.”
She flushed crimson. “That must've been because...”
“Because of what?”
She swallowed. “Because of what I saw earlier.”
“What did you see?” he inquired, intrigued.
She lowered her gaze. “I witnessed a woman being pleasured.”
“Indeed? How so?”
“By a man.”
“And how did he please her?”
She hesitated until he tweaked a nipple. “He was settled between her legs.”
“And you found the scene delightful?”
When she did not answer, he pinched her other nipple.
“I did.”
“Did this woman enjoy being taken before others?”
“She appeared to.”
“Do you?”
“Please...”
“A lascivious harlot such as yourself must have enjoyed bearing witness.” He pointed his erection at her lips. “Come. Demonstrate your prurience.”
“But I—”
She stopped when he reached for her nipple. She opened her mouth. As with the first time, she gagged at the unnatural intrusion, but he held her head in place, forcing her to find a way to adjust. She wrapped her lips over his rod, and he closed his eyes to relish the beautiful warmth embracing him.
“You are a quick student and have improved much in so short a time,” he commented when he began to saw his rod in and out of her orifice and felt less of her teeth against him. Pulling back, he aimed his cock at an angle to see the tip pushing out her cheek. “Your husband will be much pleased. I think he would not have expected his wife to swallow perform so well.”
He pulled out of her mouth and wiped the moisture across her lips. “You must promise to take your husband’s shaft often so that your instruction here will not go to waste.”
When she did not answer, he wrapped her hair around his right hand and tugged her gaze to meet his. “Promise.”
She stared, distraught. A tear seemed to glisten in the corner of one eye. He did his best to ignore it, reminding himself that she had brought this upon herself.
“Promise,” he repeated.
“Please...”
“He will not know to ask it of you. Thus, you must offer yourself to him. Does he not deserve some manner of benefit from your adultery?”
Her distress disappeared for the moment, replaced by anguish. “What benefit have I derived from his?”
He stifled his guilt and replied, “It is common for husbands to take mistresses.”
“And for that his wron
g is less than mine?”
“No,” he said after a moment’s consideration, “but was your motive in coming here to right a wrong or to match his infidelity with your own?”
She looked away and said in a despairing moan, “And for what purpose do you concern yourself? Is it to debase me?”
“Did you not wish for lessons in both penance and pleasure?”
“I will forever rue the day I came here,” she whispered. “My soul is eternally damned.”
“Did we not establish that your lessons may serve several purposes.”
“Your purposes?”
“If you could atone for making your husband a cuckold, would you?”
“Yes.”
“You indicated an interest in pleasing your husband. Do you not wish to please him in the bedchamber?”
“He is satisfied by another,” she muttered.
“You wanted to be more proficient than his mistress.”
“It is not possible.”
Hearing her dejection, he knelt down to meet her gaze. He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “I promised you that I could teach you all you need know. Your husband will want for no other.”
The prospect obviously tempted her, but she murmured with doubt, “It is of no use. His mistress is far prettier—”
“Ah, but your husband has not seen how beautifully you spend. Its beauty would rival that of Helen of Troy.”
Her breath stalled.
“I assure you your husband would be eternally grateful to me.”
She shook her head. “You mock me, sir. It pleases you and serves you to have me your willing whore.”
“What is to be gained if you were left to yourself now? So that you might nurse your wounds, your shame, and crawl back to your husband a lesser wife than you were before? Or do you wish to learn how to pleasure a man so that he desires you with every fiber of his being?”
“Whores can be had anywhere.”
“Not your sort.”
When she said nothing, he added, “I promise your husband will be pleased, and I do not make promises lightly.”
He rose and pointed his erection once more at her mouth. She stared at his cock in silence, then opened her mouth. In triumph, he shoved himself in a little too harshly. She choked. He waited till her coughing settled and inserted himself more slowly this time.
“Lick the tip,” he directed. “Now the crown. Suckle it.”
He groaned in approval as her tongue circled the flare of his cock before she wrapped her warm, wet lips about him. He pushed himself in deeper.
“Harder.”
Her cheeks caved inward in her efforts. A thrill shivered down his legs. He shoved himself deeper. A part of him still wanted to punish her with his member, but he forced himself to retreat. When she had collected herself, he slid himself in gently. Her lips encased him.
“A little lower,” he encouraged.
She sank further down his shaft.
“Well done,” he praised, “but there is much left.”
She tried to take more of him, but barely took half an inch. He pressed her head down. Seconds later, she began to gag. He gave her a respite before placing his erection before her. She took in the same length before she began to convulse.
“I cannot!” she protested after coming off him. “It is far too long!”
“There is more than enough space in your throat.”
Her eyes widened.
“You must relax your reflexes.”
“Impossible.”
“When you first attempted the Sonata in E-flat Major by Haydn, did you think that impossible?”
“No.”
“Could you play it at first?”
“No.”
“Then why did you not think it possible?”
“I knew mastering it required practice.”
“And I take it you practiced.”
He held his shaft for her. She opened her mouth. He allowed her to take what she could this time. His hand still fisted in her hair, he guided her mouth up and down his shaft.
“Mind your teeth,” he reminded her.
Despite her discomfort, she made a concerted effort to meet his rhythm. He dared to push a little deeper. She stiffened at first and coughed, but he did not withdraw.
“Breathe and relax,” he said.
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and settled about his cock. He thrust himself into her. She did not suck as heartily as his mistress, but her mouth was still bloody delightful. He shoved his hips with increased vigor. A delicious agitation swirled in his groin, mounting in his cods, threatening to implode if it did not find escape. Trudie attempted to remain calm and tried to quell the gagging. He continued to push upon her head until she squirmed and sputtered, but her protests were muffled. His legs tensed, and with a roar, he released the tension coiled inside him. Wave after wave of his seed spilled forth. Her body heaved as if she retched. His seed dropped from her lips.
He shuddered several times before falling a step back. She spat and coughed. A tear slid down her cheek. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at her. Thrice he had taken her mouth. In one night. And never would he have thought to ravish his wife’s virginal mouth. When he had recovered his breath, he gave her cheek a pat.
“Well done, my wench. In the future, you will learn to swallow every drop. It will please your husband immensely.” He was already more pleased than he should be. His attempt at schooling Trudie had turned into something more.
Chapter Thirteen
HOW WAS IT HE had never seen how wanton his wife could be?
Leopold remembered how her cheeks had blushed red as two tomatoes when he had first kissed her hand. They had not had much of a courtship. Having been indifferent to most women he had come across, Leopold had acquiesced to the marriage easily enough. Perhaps if he had taken the time to know Trudie better, he would have sensed this part of her.
But she was such a timid creature. If he had not asserted himself forcefully, her prurience might never have seen the light of day.
This thought tempered the ever present guilt of what he did.
He wiped a drop of his seed from the corner of her mouth and cupped her chin to raise her gaze to his. “Husbands may want an upstanding wife, virtuous and chaste, to parade before others; but in the bedchamber, they all want a harlot. I commend you for your willingness to be your husband’s whore.”
“I am not merely his,” she replied with misery, lowering her lashes.
Guilt twisted in his groin.
“I think he will forgive the trespass once he sees how you have been changed.”
“An easy statement for you to make, sir. You know not—how can any husband forgive adultery? And if he knew the extent of my treachery, the depths of my depravity, he would be more than ashamed.”
“How well do you know your husband?”
“Our families have been close for generations.”
“And you are thus privy to his most private inclinations, his thoughts and sentiments?”
Trudie became silent.
“If he were a man of such high character,” he continued, “would your husband have taken a mistress? He spoke the same vows as you at the wedding, did he not?”
“Yes, but allowances are made for his sex.”
“Should your sex not be afforded the same allowances?”
He realized his words betrayed his own hypocrisy. He had been furious with her infidelity but had spared little thought on the wrong he himself had committed.
Trudie shook her head. “Neither you nor my friend can convince me that what I do is acceptable.”
“Then why do you submit yourself to me?”
“I know not. This Château has clouded my mind. I cannot think properly.”
“Then let us dispense with thinking. It is the purpose of Château Follet to exalt the carnal, after all.”
He reached between her legs and caressed her. She was still wet. He knelt on one knee and put a tongue to her folds.
She gave a half cry, half laugh. “P-Please!”
He marveled once more at the sensitivity of her body before flicking his tongue over her pearl of pleasure.
She convulsed. “Oh, God! God!”
After inhaling her arousal, he pried apart her folds to gain better access at the delightful bud.
“No, no!”
“I think your body wishes to spend again, my naughty Jezebel.”
She shook her head.
He licked at the swollen flesh, surprised she had not yet grown accustomed to the euphoria.
“Pray, it is too sensitive, sir,” she whimpered.
But he continued to stroke her engorged pleasure bud.
“Please!” she begged.
He switched to ply his fingers against her. “Do you not wish to spend?”
“It is...it is always hard...at first.”
“But a good student must spend when her master bids it.”
“No...”
The blood had rushed to his groin, hardening his desire. He put a hand upon her back in an attempt to still her convulsing while he strummed her clitoris.
Stepping away from her, he watched her body quiver, at once wanting and dreading a return of his fondling. He waited to see if she would change her mind and ask him to continue caressing her instead.
He drew a teasing finger along her slit. She shivered violently and moaned.
Her eyes were wide, and he saw her confliction in her furrowed brow. She struggled not to want the natural desires of her body.
Reaching between her legs, he found a spot that made her cry out and her back arch, but she did not ask him to stop. She was as sensitive as ever, mayhap more, and copiously wet. As his fingers worked their torment, she emitted a strange litany of sounds from gasping to wailing to sobbing. Her body twisted, and she began to pant.
Sensing her peak near, he commanded, “Spend, my love, spend.”
Her body quaked, fighting the impending eruption, but his fingers wrested from her that ultimate carnal bliss. She screamed as a paroxysm bowled into her. Arousal surged with satisfaction within him as he beheld her writhing and shaking. Till tonight, he had not known a woman to spend with ferocity.
Surrendering to the Baron (A Steamy Regency Romance Book 7) Page 9
