“Shed your clothes,” he instructed as began to unloosen his cravat.
Eager to return to her earlier progress, she struggled to pull her arms free. It was no easy deed for the garments on top had secured the ones beneath. Lord Rockwell, also disrobing, had a much easier time as he cast his cravat onto the back of the chair and began to unbutton his silk brocade waistcoat. As she struggled with her attire, she found herself mesmerized by the calm with which he undressed, revealing a broad and chiseled chest, arms and torso. She drank in his splendor.
“Let us not tarry, Miss Herwood,” he said as he retrieved a crop.
Doubling her efforts, she wiggled and jumped, her unrestrained breasts bouncing with the exertion, but the tight sleeves of the spencer were caught. The crop fell against her backside, its sting blunted by her clothing. Nonetheless she yelped. Straining one hand, she reached for the cuff of her spencer. The crop fell against the side of a breast. With a hasty yank, she pulled the sleeve and the spencer slipped from under the sleeve of the frock and the strap of the stays. He struck her thigh. Quickly she shimmied her arms out of the garments and pushed them to the floor. Her petticoat and chemise quickly followed.
“Give me your stockings.”
She kicked off her slippers and untied the garters. The stockings slid down her legs and she handed the pair to him. He pulled her arms together behind her back until her elbows touched and tied her arms in place with her stockings. The position forced her breasts forward. He ran a finger along the tops and bottoms of her breasts. He tapped the crop against one orb.
“I think I shall leave these free for tonight.”
She barely heard his words, though it almost sounded as if this was not to be their only night together. She would have to make clear later that she had no wish to see him ever again, but for now, she only wanted him to continue his sublime agony.
The crop bit at a nipple. She cried out. He massaged the affected breast and kissed the smarting nipple. He flicked at it repeatedly with his tongue, and she groaned as the fire in her belly stirred. She watched him walk over to a chest of drawers. After opening and shutting a drawer, he returned to her holding a pair of small clamps joined together by a thin chain.
“Devon should have started with these,” he said.
She gritted her teeth at the sharp pinching pain upon her nipples. The clamps were not nearly as bad as what had been used at Chateau Follet. But the relativity mattered not. The hellish things upon her now hurt plenty well. Her toes curled.
“Breathe.”
She focused on her breath and found her tolerance for the pain.
“Well done.”
He tugged at the chain. The clamps pulled at her nipples. Tears pressed the backs of her eyes. He brushed his lips against her temple.
“You are a sight to behold, Miss Herwood.”
His words encouraged and enflamed her. She wanted to withstand everything he would do to show him how capable and strong she was. She wanted him to reward her.
He led her back to the chair and sat down. He had her stand astride him. To her delight, he undid his front fall and pulled out his very solid cock. She hoped he would let her take possession of the erection soon. He rubbed himself slowly so that his cock lengthened to its limits. He pointed it between her thighs.
“Bend your legs.”
Yes!
She lowered herself.
“Stop,” he commanded just as the tip grazed her cunnie.
She looked at him curiously.
“Fall and pay the price,” he said.
No.
He rubbed the bulbous head along her slit. It felt wonderful, but she wanted his cock to touch the deepest part of her. He pressed his cock at her clitoris and she closed her eyes to further relish the pleasure. Back and forth he worked his cock. Coated in her wetness, it slid easily along her. Beautiful, delicious sensations fanned from her cunnie. But squatting over his cock was an awkward exertion, and her legs soon began to tremble. Surely he would let her take him at any moment?
She grunted as beads of sweat formed along her brow. “My lord—”
The labor required to stay in position distracted from her ascent toward orgasmos.
He increased the rubbing, pushing it at her perineum. She quivered in delight. But her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. If only she could spend before...
Her legs gave way. She sank onto his lap, sheathing his cock in her cunnie. The feel of him inside of her was nothing short of wonderful. For a second she didn’t care that she had not succeeded in keeping the position he wanted. She looked at him through lowered lashes, but instead of a frown, she saw his eyes gleaming.