“YOU MAY HAVE cock,” Alastair answered slowly before opening the third drawer. “This one.”
He held the glass dildo, and Mildred knew not if she were more disappointed that she had been denied his cock or relieved that he had not chosen the monstrosity made of Indian rubber.
“Sit,” he beckoned, patting the top of a wooden table.
She slid her derrière onto its surface.
“Farther, that you may have room to place your feet,” he instructed.
She did as he bid and bent her legs, bringing her feet onto the top of the table. He spread her knees apart, and, in this lewd position, her quim was fully exposed to him. He slid the length of the smooth glass along her folds. It felt cool to the touch. He rubbed the dildo against her clitoris, swollen from her prior attentions. She was near to spending.
“My lord, may I—”
But he changed the angle of the dildo and pointed its tip at her. He pushed it inside. Her wetness allowed it easy passage. Her cunnie clenched about the unrelenting hardness. He slid more of it into her. At first she found the rigidity of the object awkward, but her arousal reigned supreme, and she soon came to savor the fullness. She would have preferred to be filled by his cock, but the dildo was preferable to nothing. He nestled the entire length inside her.
“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured.
He smiled, and as it was not often that he did so, she felt a sense of accomplishment. He put his thumb to her clitoris, sending flutters through her loins. Gently, he circled the bud, stroking, fondling, wavering it back and forth. The sensation, coupled with the pressure of the dildo inside her, was quite delicious. Despite the discomfort of sitting atop a hard table with her legs indecently spread, she neared spending once more.
But his caresses slowed and he eventually withdrew his hand. “What curiosity would you wish me to address next?”
She wanted to whimper but let out a haggard breath instead. She looked about the room. “Why a pillory?”
“I would think its purpose fairly evident.”
“You mean one is actually locked into it?” She knit her brows. “Do you think Uncle Richard or Lady Katherine…?”
“Sometimes the threat of it is sufficient to deter unwanted behavior—or titillate.”
Mildred pressed her lips together. The stocks were devices of humiliation and punishment.
“The pillory presents many possibilities,” Alastair continued, “as we shall demonstrate.”
He assisted her off the table and led her to the device, which differed little from the frameworks that could be seen at Charing Cross or the Haymarket. He lifted the top and gestured for her to take her place. She hesitated but reminded herself that the pillory was to be, as Alastair claimed, titillating, though she wondered, titillating for whom? Nonetheless, she placed herself in the frame and allowed him to close the top over her wrists and neck. It was an awkward position, to be bent at the waist, her breasts dangling, her arse protruding. Oddly, she felt her nakedness even more.
"How long am I to remain in this?" she asked
"It depends on my whim, though if you misbehave, I may decide to leave you locked in the pillory all night."
He stood at her side and, reaching below her, cupped a breast. She purred. Her cunnie pulsed. She gasped when he removed the magnets, then screamed when he attached them to a slightly different part of her nipple. He did the same to the other breast. His hands caressed her back and ribs before coming to rest upon her buttocks. He gave one cheek a playful slap before sauntering to the wall that held the canes, floggers, and crops.
"So many choices," he murmured to himself.
Her wetness grew, and she hoped he would reach a decision soon, for she knew she must first suffer the implement of his choice before she would be allowed to spend. She heard him return and stand behind her. She braced herself.
Whack!
From the short, stiff sting, she gathered he had chosen the crop.
"Thank you, my lord."
"You are welcome."
The crop kissed her other cheek with equal vigor. He rained several blows, till her backside grew hot and, she imagined, crimson. He took a respite and reached between her legs to find the moisture trickling down her inner thighs. He caressed her, and that made it all worthwhile. It soothed the burning of her arse. But he was not done.
Withdrawing his hand, he returned to spanking her with the crop. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, partly to relieve the bite of the crop and partly to relieve the discomfort from standing in so awkward a position. She clenched on the dildo, trying to release the pressure inside her. Perhaps if she squeezed hard enough, she could spend.
As if sensing her thoughts on the matter, he removed it, to her dismay. She whimpered at the loss.
"Miss your cock already?"
"Yes, my lord, yes!"
She heard the rustle of clothing and hoped he was unbuttoning his fall to release his cock. Indeed, after a moment, she felt his shaft between her legs, that wonderful veined hardness. He grabbed her hips, slid a length of his cock along her folds. She rejoiced and, casting aside her inhibitions, pushed her derrière at him, her invitation clear. She felt his tip at her opening and could barely contain her glee.
He pulled her onto his shaft. It was more marvelous than the false cock. Slowly, he sank himself farther inside of her, till at last he was buried to the hilt, and she could feel his pants against the backs of her legs and the curls of his hair tickling her buttocks.
She clasped it greedily. There was no finer feeling than that of his erection filling her most intimate parts. She heard him groan as he began to slide himself in and out. Though her legs had begun to grow weary, she now appreciated the angle of his thrusting. His movements were slow, allowing her to savor every inch of him, but she was also impatient for him to increase his pace.
"Thank you, my lord," she said in the hopes of encouraging him. It worked, for he increased his thrusting, his grip tightening on her hips. Beautiful ripples fanned from where he was joined to her. She could feel herself ascending to that rapturous peak. With every effort to bury his cock inside her, his pelvis slapping into her arse, she loved it all, but before she could reach that rapturous summit, he slowed and slid his cock out. She wondered if she had done something wrong. Perhaps she had not thanked him enough.
"I think you're ready to try another object," he said.
Although curious to try something new, she had been happy with his cock inside of her. She heard the drawer to the sideboard open but could not see which drawer. Would he attempt to fit the monstrous dildo inside her now?
After he had returned, she felt an object between her legs. It felt of glass but not as long as the dildo she’d had. He inserted it inside her wetness. It was much smaller than the dildo. He removed it—but she felt it soon enough at another orifice of hers.
Oh dear.
"Do you recall your safety word?"
His question confirmed what was about to happen. He intended to penetrate her arse. She squirmed, unsure that she was ready for or wanted what was to happen.
He slapped her buttock. "Be still."
Whatever he held was small, but when he pressed it at her anus, it felt much larger than it was. Of its own accord, her orifice resisted the intrusion. It was unnatural to have anything enter that part of her…
He groped a buttock and gently kneaded the flesh. “Relax.”
She nodded and let out a long breath. She felt the tip at her backside once more, stretching her, pressing into her, entering her, then filling her.
The sensation took her breath. How were there so many nerves there?
“Breathe,” he reminded her.
Though having the object in her arse was not painful, she considered using her safety word. It was simply too strange and too full—and more wanton than she could imagine. Now that the intruder was nestled inside her, her arse seemed content to have it and did not attempt to push it out.
Something tickled her rump, and she jumped, bumping into the pillory that still held her prisoner. Did he brush a plume across her? She attempted to crane her head but could not see past the wooden boards that locked her in place.
He walked toward an apparatus covered by linen, which he yanked off to reveal a looking glass. She saw herself bent at the waist and tried not to fix upon how gravity pulled upon her flesh with unattractive effect. Then she espied what had tickled her—it was the fox tail from the drawer, and it protruded from her arse!
“Lovely, is it not?” Alastair inquired, striding back to her and admiring the tail from behind.
Oh…my. Was it truly lovely, an adornment and not a form of degradation? Was being made to resemble an animal provocative or demeaning? A part of her now regretted the exploration of her curiosity. Was this what she was truly willing to submit to? Did this amuse Alastair? Please him? She wanted to please him, but perhaps not at the expense of her dignity.
“This is what you desired, is it not?” he asked. “If you were at Château Follet, you would have to submit yourself to such things—and more.”
Her mind whirled as she wondered if Katherine had allowed herself to be locked in the pillory and have a tail affixed to her. Mildred supposed she must have or such articles would not be in her house.
“Oof!” Mildred grunted when Alastair slapped her rump. Her body squeezed the object inside her, and the tail swished against her. Trying to avoid the tickling of its softness, she bent her knees.
Her attention having been focused on her backside, she had barely noted that Alastair had not replaced his fall. But when he positioned himself behind her, she took full notice of his beautiful shaft. He flipped the tail over her rump, and in one swift motion, speared himself into her.
She let fall an unladylike oath. Ye Gods! Ye Gods! To be filled in two places at once was…marvelous.
She glanced at the looking glass to see that it was truly happening, though she needed no evidence beyond the extraordinary sensations engulfing the whole of her lower half. When he moved inside of her, the sensation called attention to the fullness in her arse, which, in turn, accentuated the fullness in her cunnie. The delectable pressure, assaulting her from all angles, overwhelmed her ability to think. Her legs wanted to buckle beneath the weight of such carnal delirium, but doing so would inflict unwanted tension on her neck and wrists, and Alastair held her up by the hips.
Gradually, he quickened his thrusts. She shot toward her summit with such rapidity that she forgot to ask permission to spend.
But before she could round the peak of euphoria, he stopped.
“M-May I spend?” she recalled. “My lord?”
He withdrew. Her cunnie clutched desperately at emptiness.
“At Château Follet, submissives must earn the privilege of spending,” he explained.
Yes, yes, she understood that. Had she not earned the privilege yet?
He sauntered to the front of the pillory and stroked his cock before her. His shaft glistened with her moisture.
“How may I?” She tried to form a coherent sentence. “How may I earn the privilege, my lord?”
He presented his erection to her. Eagerly, she opened her mouth. She would do anything he wished to merit his cock in her cunnie again. To demonstrate her willingness, she licked at the crown of his shaft before swallowing it, tasting the nectar of her own desires upon him.
She sucked until her cheeks caved inward and triumphed at his moan. He bucked his hips at her, and she consumed as much of him as she could. At times she took in too much, and she choked. He popped his cock out to give her a chance to recover before sliding back in. Her cheeks became sore, but her cunnie demanded that she persist. When she became better accustomed, Alastair gripped the pillory and pumped himself more vigorously into her mouth. During their last encounter, he had not spent inside her, but she believed this time he would.
He drove himself deep into her, and she gagged. Only this time he continued to batter her mouth. She tried to pull back to attain some relief, but the pillory prevented it. His cock struck the back of her throat several times, and then her mouth was filled with a hot saltiness. Some of it slid past her lips. Not knowing what he expected, she decided to swallow the rest.
With a roar and much shuddering, he bucked a few more times before retreating.
“Open,” he commanded, grabbing himself and aiming his cock at her mouth. More of his seed landed on her tongue. She swallowed and licked her lips.
“My God,” he breathed, his legs trembling and his breath shaky. He appeared rather vulnerable, and she felt a heady accomplishment at being able to bring him to such a state. Surely she had earned her privilege now?
But he was not yet done. When he presented his cock to her once more, she gathered she was to cleanse him. She licked and sucked his shaft clean.
Then, to her mortification, he covered himself with his fall and did the buttons.
“Did I not please you, my lord?” she asked.
“You pleased me greatly.”
Perhaps he intended to make her spend without his cock, but he set about removing the magnets from her nipples.
“Did I earn the privilege to spend, my lord?”
“Not yet.”
Astounded, she said nothing at first. “What more am I to do, my lord?”
“For tonight, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I will make an assessment tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”
He popped the tail from her arse.
“Do you tease me or do you mean to be cruel?” she cried.
He gave her a stern look, as if she were being wayward child, but she could not overcome her indignation. Her body was near to bursting. He had had his release. Why was he denying Millie hers?
“I did what you bid,” she argued, “without complaint. I permitted you to lock me in this pillory, pin a tail ’pon me arse—”
“You wanted to satisfy your curiosity.”
“Yes, but…I thought—we are not finished for the night?”
“We are, and if you wish me to unlock the pillory, you will refrain from further objections.”
She nearly objected to his warning but had enough presence of mind to remain silent. He opened the pillory, and she welcomed the opportunity to stand. She did not think she could withstand more time in the device.
Deciding that a question was not a demurral, she inquired, “What were my failings, my lord?”
“You had no failings,” he replied.
“Then how is it I did not earn my privilege to spend?”
“You desired an experience equivalent to what might be had at Château Follet. I am granting your request, Millie.”
He picked up her shift and robe and presented them to her. She received them unhappily.
“It is customary for the submissive to attend to the keeping and cleaning afterwards,” he said, “but I shall see to it for tonight.”
She only frowned and hoped that, once in her own bed, she could achieve the climax she had been denied. In a hurry, she slipped on her garments, cursed herself for trusting a selfish profligate, and turned for the doors.
Alastair grabbed her arm. “You may touch yourself, but you shall not spend, not till I have granted you permission.”
“But we are done.”
He lowered his voice. “Obey, and I promise you that your reward will exceed all expectation.”
His voice made the heat churn inside of her as a shiver went up her spine. Oh, why would he not take her again?
“You will learn the power of anticipation.”
“And the agony of denial,” she retorted.
He smiled and kissed her brow before releasing her. “Good night, Millie.”
This small gesture of affection took her by surprise and thawed a little of her anger. “Good night, my lord.”
Deciding that she would only torment herself further by staying in his company, she took her leave. As she walked down the corridor, the moisture between her legs reminding her of her lack of fulfillment, she contemplated that he could hardly know whether or not she had spent. And the tension in her needed release.
But he trusted her. And if he should question her, could she lie to him convincingly? She wanted to obey him, wanted to honestly earn this reward that would exceed all expectation. She shivered again and embraced herself, wondering what he could intend.
In the privacy of her bed, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, trying not to recall the events of the night, how his touch enthralled her, how his kiss had enflamed her, how his cock had penetrated her.
She rubbed her thighs together in frustration and tried thinking of the less savory moments. However, there was not a moment that she did not, upon reflection, find arousing. The discomfort of the pillory, the degradation of the fox tail, somehow had conspired to titillate. The smarting of her arse from the crop, the pinching of the magnets upon her nipples, the gagging from having her mouth stuffed with cock—she would gladly suffer them again.
Giving in, she fit her hands between herself to stroke her clitoris. With a sigh, she fondly recalled how he had pounded into her from behind. Desire renewed itself in her loins. She wanted to spend.
But he had not granted her permission. Had expressly forbid it and promised a greater reward if she complied. She did not doubt that Alastair could deliver upon his word. She wanted that reward.
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand, rolled onto her stomach, and stuffed her hands beneath the pillows. The night loomed long. She tried to fill her mind with less savory thoughts: how close she had come to marrying Haversham, the number of times he stepped on her toes and Mr. Carleton and his support of slavery,.
Try as she might, she could not ignore the pulsing between her thighs. She drew her hands from beneath the pillows.