Lydia's Penance, page 27
The sensation of feeling him go had her crying out and writhing again, and then she fairly screamed into the mattress when he reversed directions and sank back into her to the hilt. Taking his time, Isaac sent up a rhythm of long, slow drags of his cock in and out of her body, withdrawing till just his head was left inside of her before beginning the slow, inexorable thrust back into the hot haven of her bowels. He luxuriated in the sensation, wallowed in it, and took his time, knowing she’d be burning and aching with the stretch of her tight hole the entire time.
Being so fully invaded in her bottom was something even the dilators couldn’t have prepared her for. Although Isaac had toyed with them, pushing them in and out of her, fucking her with them, it wasn’t the same as his cock. His rod was both harder and softer than the rubber plugs; it was certainly thicker and longer, and Lydia felt as though her bottom might never regain its original proportions now that it had been stretched so obscenely. The feel of him moving in and out of her, the bumps and ridges on his cock scraping over her tender insides, forcing open her squeezing hole, left her gasping.
It burned, but in a completely different manner than the burning on her breasts and surface of her ass, or even the inside of her bottom when he’d stretched her with the dilators. The sensation was akin to muscles being stretched in ways they were unused to, but it was also the slick movement of him gliding back and forth in her sensitive channel, which flared and flamed. She felt so full and so empty at the same time, as her pussy spasmed and tried to press against the mattress.
With every thrust, she could feel the wet slap of his sack against her open pussy lips, her clit throbbing in response to the stimulation, her body craving more. The movement of his cock in her bowels was also stimulating some other pleasurable ache, deep inside of her, as if there was a separate and distinct point of pleasure inside of her.
The agony of being sodomized was exquisite; somehow this position, bent over with her husband holding her down, forcibly taking her bottom for her punishment and his pleasure, made her feel incredibly fulfilled. She could feel him looming over her, powerfully thrusting behind her, his strong hands holding her in place while her punished parts burned and her insides cramped in delicious paroxysms.
This was... sinful. That was the only word which truly encompassed everything she was feeling.
It was depraved decadence, wanton torment, and overwhelmed every one of her senses. Lydia sobbed as the very intensity of the sensations swamped her, overcoming her and turning her into a writhing mass of pleasure and pain. The orgasm Isaac had been driving her to, denying her from, wound about her bones and quivered... trembled... tightened inside of her until she thought she might go mad from being so close to the brink without tipping over.
Then, suddenly, as if sensing her desperation, Isaac began thrusting harder and faster into her battered bottom. The sudden increase in friction and pace, the slap of his groin against her welted cheeks and sack against her needy pussy, had her clawing at the sheets as the intense orgasm inside of her welled. The brink neared, her body tightened, and Lydia screamed as she teetered and then fell.
It was as though her entire body was curling in on itself at the force of her climax, the spasms and pulses coming in unrelenting waves. When Isaac leaned over her, his cock pressing deeper, his groin rubbing over her seared cheeks, his hand slid over her hip to the front of her body, seeking out her swollen clit, and Lydia completely lost herself to the vortex of rapturous ecstasy and fiery agony that was swirling inside of her body.
Tears poured from her eyes, absorbed by the sheets beneath her as wetness trickled down her thighs, coating her inner legs and Isaac’s sack. She was barely aware of the throbbing rod inside of her, its pulsing completely indistinguishable from her own, the molten heat of liquid filling her bowels a tiny part of the maelstrom of hot sensations devastating her. A sharp pinch of her clit sent her soaring, staggering, and white hot light enveloped her, followed almost immediately by blackness.
The feeling of smug triumph after his wife’s debilitating ecstasy followed Isaac through the night and into the morning. At first, when he’d realized she’d gone limp as he’d emptied himself into her bowels, he’d been concerned, but it had taken him less than a minute to realize she’d simply fainted, overcome by the myriad of sensations assaulting her. He’d gathered her up, cleaned up the liquid evidence of their exertions, and cradled her in his arms as they’d fallen asleep.
She was so exhausted that she’d continued sleeping when he’d awoken. Rather than disturb her and deciding she must need her rest after such a tumultuous evening, he’d quietly slipped from her bed, gotten ready for the day, and descended to the main floor to play host. Since his sister was already up and about, he’d assigned her to play hostess, explaining that Lydia was getting some much needed rest and Arabella would need to take her place until she was up and ready.
Arabella had been happy enough with the request; it took Isaac a moment to realize the peculiar gleam in her eye meant she thought Lydia was increasing.
Since he hadn’t said she was, and didn’t know that she wasn’t, he didn’t feel like it was a lie. Regardless, he wanted Lydia to get what rest she needed. After being so stressed about the party and the ball tonight, and needing a punishment so badly, it made sense to him that she would also need more sleep than usual.
It wasn’t until she came down, still restless, practically wringing her hands and ignoring his reassurances that Arabella had everything well in hand, that Isaac realized there was still something wrong.
Last night should have calmed her. Stabilized her. Set her back on an even keel. In some ways it had. She was more focused and didn’t seem so worried about the ball... on the contrary, she seemed incredibly distracted when Arabella brought it up. Frowning, Isaac watched her from across the patio as she organized their guests, many of whom declared themselves uninterested in or not yet ready to nap before the ball, for a walk about the garden following luncheon. Her underlying restlessness, a kind of jittery tension, was vibrating about her person.
“What’s wrong?” Benedict had come alongside him without Isaac noticing, so great was his own distraction in regards to his wife. His brother frowned as he looked in the same direction as Isaac, his expression confused. Obviously he hadn’t picked up on Lydia’s inner distress.
“I’m not sure,” Isaac murmured, aware that Benedict was far from the only person joining him in his current position by the doors. He turned his head slightly to see Wesley, Philip, and Felix looking at him as well, slight concern in their expressions. “Something’s going on with Lydia. I don’t suppose any of your wives have mentioned anything?”
A murmured round of negative answers did nothing to assuage Isaac’s concern. He tilted his head back towards his wife. She was laughing gaily at something Walter Hood had just said to her, patting his arm as she paired him with Miss Feathering for the promenade through the gardens. Walter looked almost horrified at being paired with a proper young miss, even if she was several years out of the schoolroom. For her part, Miss Feathering simpered up at him.
As soon as she had them moving on their way, Lydia’s head swung around, looking for... something. The fine tension gripping her made her movements jerky.
“Whatever’s wrong, I think it may be coming to a head,” he said in a low tone, turning back towards them so as not to alert her. Something more than the party had been stressing her yesterday, he now realized, something which was going to happen today. Perhaps at the ball, perhaps sooner. He looked around at the gentlemen he’d become friends with over the past Season. Part of what had drawn them together had been the necessity of keeping an eye on Arabella and Gabrielle throughout the ballrooms of the ton. They’d formed a coterie of gentlemen, trading off positions and covering all the exits, and - for the most part - their caution had paid off. “I could use your assistance this afternoon and evening, I believe.”
They all nodded immediately, completely amenable.
“I’ll tell Alex,” Wesley said, immediately slipping away, heading across the patio to where Alex and his wife were deep in conversation, slowly making their way to the garden entrance.
“I’ll bet Cynthia and Gabrielle will be just as effective as we will,” Felix said with a grin, moving off to where they were giggling with Arabella, whom Lydia was beckoning. Arabella looked reluctant to pair off with Lydia’s intended gentleman, Felix’s eldest brother Thomas. For his part, Isaac was relieved. Thomas would keep an eye on Arabella without being asked, leaving Isaac free to focus on whatever was going on with his wife. Offering Cynthia and Gabrielle his arms, Felix gave Arabella no choice but to step forward and take his brothers. The five of them moved off into the gardens with Wesley and the Brookes not far behind.
Frowning, realizing his wife meant to set him to leading others through the garden, Isaac quickly slipped away. He’d go in the side entrance and keep an eye on her. Whatever was going on, whatever was causing her such disturbance, he refused to be distracted by their guests.
Chapter 17
On edge and exasperated, Lydia realized her husband had disappeared, leaving her no choice but to lead Lord and Lady Wuthering into the gardens along with her stepfather. At some point she would endeavor to lose them or leave them behind long enough to hand off the dratted list tucked into the bodice of her day gown. She supposed an amble through the gardens really wasn’t her husband’s speed, but his presence would certainly have made things easier on her. Discovering many of her guests were less interested in resting than in being entertained during the afternoon had surprised her. Apparently everyone had taken Isaac’s suggestion, retired early last night, and felt quite well rested.
So she’d organized a jaunt through the gardens. For one, it would provide plenty of cover for her to hand off the list to her stepfather, for another, having everyone within shouting distance should keep him from attempting anything untoward.
Having her hand on his arm as they walked was a strain on her nerves as her dislike of him surged. One positive, which was keeping her from completely coming apart, had been the joy in Mr. Tilding and Amy’s eyes as they’d quickly taken advantage of the bit of privacy a walk through the gardens would afford them. Surely, with their romance progressing at the rate it was, Lydia wouldn’t have to keep her secrets for too much longer...
She was quite sure that if she hadn’t asked Isaac to punish her last night, she would becoming completely undone right now. The various aches and throbbing pains of her body helped to distract her from her emotional turmoil, helped to focus her when she pressed on them. Isaac had let her sleep in quite late, and she’d missed awakening in his arms, but she’d also woken up feeling better than she would have thought possible under the circumstances.
Movement flitted out of the corner of her eye, and she saw Spencer and Cynthia walk by on a nearby path. Cynthia peered curiously at her and then gave a little wave. Lydia smiled weakly back before returning her focus to her guests.
“Perhaps you’d like to tour the rose garden?” she asked Lady Wuthering. “Sarah told me you have quite an impressive one yourself.”
That was all it took to have the lady burbling happily on about the care and maintenance of roses and the various varieties she had in her own garden, as they made their way down the paths. Considering the size of the garden, Lydia was seeing quite a bit more of their guests than she would have anticipated - all three of the Hood brothers came in and out of her sight as they walked, escorting the ladies they were with, she saw the Spencers again, the Brookes, her brother-in-law walking with Dunbury and Cordelia...
And then her attention was recalled as her stepfather pinched her fingers with his as they walked into the rose garden. Lady Wuthering immediately went into happy accolades and, as Lydia had hoped she would, began to pull her husband along to see everything she wished to see. As they moved further ahead of Lydia and her stepfather, her stepfather began dragging his heels.
“It’s time, missy, who are the duke’s partners?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.
“Shhh,” Lydia said, her head moving wildly to make sure no one was close enough by to overhear. The Wutherings had moved even farther away, and turned the corner on the path, taking them out of sight and certainly out of hearing. She relaxed slightly. “I wrote them down.”
Her stepfather clung to her arm as she tried to pull away from him. “Give it to me.”
“Let me go and I will!” Her slight panic made her voice rise and she immediately froze and hunched, her stepfather doing the same, both of them listening to see if her high tone had drawn any attention. There was nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and branches and a few notes of birdsong. Both of them relaxed, and Lydia took the opportunity to jerk her arm away, retreating several steps from him. She absolutely did not want to reach into her bodice while he was actually touching her. With her now intimate understanding of what happened between a man and a woman, she did not want to do a single thing which might incite him, even if he was currently somewhat sober.
“Now, woman,” he growled, his fists clenching menacingly at his sides.
Heart fluttering, Lydia turned away, bowing her head to dip her hand into her bodice where paper was tucked. She was moving slower than she should because she really, truly didn’t want to do this. It had been one thing to betray a man of honor whom she hadn’t known, one thing to trick a man into marriage when she’d had no real connection to him, but in doing this, she was choosing to truly betray Isaac... to knowingly betray not just him, but the emotions and connection growing between them.
Knowing that made her feel cold, despite the heat still lingering in her skin from his punishment. But it was the only way to ensure Amy’s future, and her sister didn’t deserve to suffer because of her father, she didn’t deserve to suffer because of Lydia’s actions or inaction, and so Lydia did the only thing she could do. She closed her eyes and reached into her bodice, gulping back the sudden rise of tears in the back of her throat as she did.
The expression on Lydia’s too-pale face was one Isaac didn’t think he would ever forget. It was only happenchance she’d turned in his direction rather than another, and he almost wished she hadn’t. Her expression was one of extreme resignation, of heartbreak, of hopelessness. Whatever it was her stepfather was demanding, it wasn’t good.
Turning his own head, Isaac signaled to his friends. They moved silently along the pathways, moving to block the only two exits from the little enclosure in the gardens where Lydia and her stepfather were currently standing, as well as to block off the pathways leading to those enclosures from the other guests. Whatever was happening, Isaac doubted he wanted it to become common knowledge. The actual exits would be too far away to overhear anything if Lydia and her stepfather spoke too low, which meant Isaac stayed at his own post, really only a few feet away from the pair but completely hidden by the lush growth of the flowering bush.
As Lydia turned away from him to face her stepfather, a noise behind Isaac made him start. He whirled around to find his young sister-in-law standing there on the arm of Tilding, both of them looking at him as though he’d lost his mind - as it very well may appear since he was standing out of the pathway and practically against a rosebush. Putting a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, he waved at them to come closer. Perhaps Amy could provide some insight.
Obviously curious, Amy and Tilding moved in, quietly, just as Lydia started to speak again.
“This list... if I give it to you, you swear you’ll let Amy marry Mr. Tilding, or whatever man she chooses?”
Beside him, Amy jerked in surprise, and Isaac reached out to hold her fast. The shocked expression on both her and Tilding’s faces indicated they didn’t know what this was about either, despite their names being used.
“Well I won’t need to hold her over your head any more, will I, if I have that?” The smug, malicious tone of voice Grayford used was nothing like Isaac had heard the Earl use before. Neither did his daughter seem to recognize it; Amy gasped inaudibly and leaned against Tilding as if seeking out support. To his credit, the young man immediately wrapped his arm about her shoulders, providing it. “That and whatever else you provide me in the future, because you will give me whatever I need or His Grace will know exactly how I came about my information.” The heavy threat in his voice was enough to make Isaac want to go crashing through the thorny roses and face the older man himself. But he held back, wanting to know more... needing to know more.
Apparently, this was what Lydia had been hiding from him from the very beginning. He hadn’t suspected her stepfather of being a villain; from everything Lydia had described about her childhood, her stepfather had acted exactly as a father to her. Obviously that had now changed, perhaps because he’d seen something to gain from her? Perhaps he had forced her into trapping Isaac so he could get whatever information the Earl wanted? But then why had Grayford assured Isaac that he needn’t marry Lydia if he didn’t wish to, that alternate arrangements could be made? No, too many things still didn’t make sense, Isaac was still missing too many pieces of the puzzle.
“But this, here... You’ll let Amy marry Mr. Tilding?” Lydia insisted, her voice shaking. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to give it to her stepfather without that assurance. Whatever it was, it was bad. “I want you to promise.”
“Yes, Amy can marry that twit if that’s what she wants,” her stepfather said, exasperation coloring his voice. Both Amy and Tilding reacted, by Isaac wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He was already starting to move. “Now give it to me, and we can both go quietly on our way.”
“I don’t think so.”
