“HAVE YOU NO restraint, woman?” Alastair returned, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. His cock had already stretched when he saw those lovely lips encasing the large dildo.
She lifted her chin and spoke as if she had proposed nothing more than a game of whist. “I thought it was convenient, as I was here, you are here, and there is this room and its accoutrements. It is much more expedient than traveling to Château Follet.”
He thought of the Viscount Devon. Once again his cousin had him against a wall, inspiring within him both resentment and awe.
“Millie,” he warned.
"What do you care if you encourage my prurience?"
She had challenged him on this before, and he could provide no truly satisfactory response.
"As you are not being reasonable," he replied, "I am obliged to take that role."
"Reasonable? Is offering four thousand pounds for a dowry to a poor relation reasonable?"
"That has nothing to do with here and now."
"You are an odd one, Alastair. I think I liked you better when you were trying not to be reasonable. Your attempts to be good are rather trying."
He could not resist smiling.
"In truth," she contemplated, "it matters not what you do. Whether you encourage me or not, these wicked desires persist inside me. If I am to be shackled by matrimony in the near future, I will indulge my prurience while I can. I asked for your assistance, but if you will not provide it, I will find other ways to address my needs."
He did not doubt that she would.
"Very well, I shall grant this request of yours, and it shall be the last request I ever grant you. On one condition: you promise never to return to Château Follet."
In silence, she weighed his proposition before saying, "I want an experience as fulfilling as that which would occur at Château Follet. You will answer every curiosity of mine, indulge every whim, attend to every desire?"
He groaned as heat churned in his loins. "If you behave yourself."
She nodded. "If I do not, you may punish me as you see fit. We may renew our arrangement as it was at Château Follet."
Blood surged through his cock. There was no turning back now, no matter how strongly his mind might be bent against it. "Do you recall your word of safety?"
When she could not, he supplied it for her. “Pearls.”
“I should like to begin with these little curiosities,” she said, reaching for the half spheres.
He closed his hand before she could take them. “I want your word, Millie.”
“I promise not to return to Château Follet.”
Satisfied, he opened his hand and pried the sphere in twain. “These magnets are strong. They will be worse than the clamps.”
Her eyes widened, but she was not daunted. She took the magnets and joined them together. “May I try them? My lord.”
A series of curses ran through his head.
He pushed aside the lapels of her robe and loosened the strings of her shift. With a crooked finger, he tugged the décolletage down. Her bosom rose as she inhaled. His knuckle brushed against the softness of her breast as he drew the shift down toward her nipple. The rosebud was already taut with anticipation. He nudged it before trapping it between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled gently. Her back arched subtly, sending her bosom closer to him. He rolled and flicked the nipple, slowly, teasingly, still her breath grew shorter. He pinched the nub, harder and harder, till she yelped. He released it and repeated the treatment on her other nipple. He pinched and twisted this one. She squirmed, not from pain, but from her arousal.
"May I try these now, my lord?" She lifted her hand with the magnets.
"Not yet." He needed to ensure that her level of arousal was high enough for her to tolerate the pain. He loosened the sash of her robe and cupped her mons. She gasped in surprise.
"Are you wet?"
"A little, I think."
His hand nestled farther between her thighs. Her dampness began to seep through the fabric to his fingers. She was more than a little wet. He rubbed her shift into her, making her moan. He watched as her lashes fluttered, her breath became uneven, and her mouth remained open, inviting him to kiss her, to force his tongue down into that lovely orifice.
“Do you remember my rules?”
“To address you always as ‘my lord.’”
“And?”
“Require your permission to spend.”
“Good.”
She closed her eyes as he intensified his fondling. His fingers pressed the damp undergarment into her folds, grazing her clitoris. Her every reaction called to the primal in him, from the breaths that filled his ears to the scent of her arousal wafting through his nose. When he sensed she was ready, he took the magnets from her hand, reached beneath her shift and placed a half sphere on either side of her right nipple.
She gave a sharp cry, both hands grabbing his wrist, when he allowed the magnets to adhere to each other.
“Breathe long and slow,” he recommended.
She did as he bid, and he allowed her grasp to tighten about him.
“Do you require your safety word?” he asked.
She breathed out through her mouth, and after a long pause, shook her head. He took her left hand and placed it between her legs.
“Stroke yourself.”
While she complied, he released her other hand from him and pulled the right side of her robe down her shoulder. The right side of the shift followed, baring the breast now adorned with the magnets. He stepped back to admire the jewelry pinching her nipple and had to adjust his crotch. Should he allow her to spend, the more magnanimous part of him wondered?
No. She had not made it easy for him, and he would return the favor. She needed to appreciate the challenges present at Château Follet. The Viscount Devon would have shown her no mercy, and Alastair intended to cast away any chance that she might reconsider her promise to him.
For several minutes he watched her pleasure herself. “Do you wish to spend?”
She nodded. “Please, my lord.”
“We should apply the other pair.”
He sauntered to the sideboard to find the other set of magnets. She braced herself but presented her other breast.
Returning, he slid the left side of her robe off her shoulder, then pulled down the strap of the shift. He eyed her left breast in appreciation of its shape and paleness of skin. He cradled the orb, relishing the weight, the suppleness in his palm, and brushed his thumb over the already erect nipple. She shuddered. He kneaded the flesh, gently at first before manhandling it. She purred her preference. He tugged the nipple to ensure it was at its peak before applying the magnets.
She groaned as the little spheres pinched the base of her nipple. Her garments, which had fallen about her hips, slid to the floor. She shivered. Though it was a warmer autumn than in past years, the night air was still cool. A fire had not been lit in the room for many years. Her body would warm soon enough and be distracted by other more urgent sensations.
To cultivate her own heat, he cupped her head in both hands and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed tenderly, teasing her, for she seemed to prefer a harder application of roughness. His tongue grazed her lips, and though she parted them, he did not dwell inside her mouth but took light mouthfuls of the surface. A small whine grumbled low in her throat.
Relenting, to his own ardor as much as hers, he opened her mouth with his and pushed his tongue between her welcoming lips. He heard her sigh before he muffled her breaths. He probed the hot and wet orifice, crushing her lips so she grunted. Rather than yield, she met the assault upon her, her tongue licking at his as she shoved her mouth to him.
Her fervor took him by surprise. Perhaps time, and the suppression of her lust through it, had intensified her desires. Or perhaps it was the magnets at her nipples that induced the need to release pressure or attention elsewhere. But he liked her passion, liked the dueling of their tongues and the forceful meeting of their mouths. He had a mind to lift her, spear himself into her then and there, but he had developed more patience during his time at Château Follet. He knew the benefits of delaying gratification.
He released her and stepped back to view her naked body. Her hair was tied in a plait behind her. Every part of her was exposed. He took her hand and replaced it at her mound. "You may touch yourself."
In silence, he watched her stroke herself for several minutes.
“Do you pleasure yourself at home?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“It varies, my lord, but, on average, four or five times a week.”
Surprised at the frequency, he said, “You are quite the little wanton, Millie.”
She blushed. “How often do others of my sex pleasure themselves?”
“In truth, there are some, even those who have been guests at Château Follet, who do not engage in self-pleasure.”
“That is sad, my lord, for though it does not afford me the satisfaction of congress, it is better than naught.”
“You prefer to have cock?”
Her blush deepened. “I do, my lord.”
His cock throbbed at her candor.
"May I ask a question, my lord?"
"You may."
"The other articles in the drawer. What are their purposes?"
He sauntered to the sideboard and inspected the first drawer. He picked up a collar made of leather with metal studs. "The collar denotes ownership. As a submissive, you belong to your dominant. You are his possession. His property. His pet."
She made a face.
Setting down the collar, he walked over to her, pulled the spheres on her right nipple apart before allowing them to snap back together again. She cried out.
"I'll have no show of disrespect, my girl."
"Your pardon, my lord," she murmured.
"A collar must need be earned," he explained, "but because you do not appear fond of it, we will use it to remind you of your status and obligations."
He put the collar about her neck. She looked ravishing in nothing but a collar and little metal spheres adhered to her nipples.
"Thank you, my lord. What of the items in the second drawer?"
He opened the drawer and paused. He would have suspected her a virgin in this third manner of taking cock, but then Millie had a way of surprising him. "These are for penetration of the arse."
"Your pardon?"
"They are inserted into the anus." By her reaction, he deduced that she was still a virgin there. But rather than appear disgusted, she looked intrigued. "This is pleasurable, my lord?"
"Each person is different, but yes, it is intended to be pleasurable."
His cock stretched at the thought of inserting one of the articles into Millie. She closed her eyes, perhaps imagining what it would feel like to have that third hole filled. He noticed her fingers push deeper between her legs.
“May I have your cock, my lord?”
All tension collapsed into the area of his groin. He thought his cock might burst through his pants. He took several deep breaths and would have remained silent had she not opened her eyes and looked at him. Of course he would have liked nothing better than to take possession of her, but she had asked for an experience comparable to one at the Château Follet. There were many experiences to be had there, and they were not all as accommodating as that which he had first provided her.
He would show her the less pleasant aspects of what was expected of a submissive at Château Follet. While she had promised already not to return to Follet, he intended to add further discouragement. It meant he would stay at Edenmoor longer than intended, but he found the prospect not quite as dreadful as expected.