A Tale of Two Dukes, page 7
Bending low, I blow out the flames before the wax can even drip down. I don’t despair, however, because deep inside, I know this will not be the last time we play. Again, that feeling of unease at the thought of any other man touching her rips through me.
It’s maddening, an itch under my skin that I cannot seem to rid myself of. Maybe once I fuck her and get this need out of my system, I’ll be able to take my time and truly torment her. That must be it. Once I’ve conquered her with my body, I’ll find that she’s just like every other woman. Nothing special. Nothing to continue tormenting myself over.
Pausing for a moment, I take in the quiver of her lips, the uncertainty in her eyes. There’s a hint of fear, a slight bite to her gaze. And yet, the only scent surrounding her is one of arousal and need.
I must be seeing things. My brain is conjuring up something I desire and yet know I can never have—a virgin who wants my darkness as opposed to dreading it. Kitty acts like an innocent and yet doesn’t shy away from anything I do to her. She’s perfection, a Venus sent to Earth to torment me.
Making quick work of the three pillars, I pluck them from the ropes and set them down on the table. No sense allowing them to knock about and fall off of her while I rut her like the wild man I am. Besides, these few moments are good for me. They allow me to catch my breath, to once more be in control.
But by the time I’m back in between her thighs, I feel myself slipping. Our eyes lock as I line the tip of my cock up with her entrance. Staring down, I watch every flick of emotion that passes.
She’s nearly unreadable, a blank slate, as if she’s purposefully keeping her thoughts to herself. Again, a niggle of unease teases at the back of my mind. However, I cannot deny how badly I want to sample her body, to combine our flesh until we’re one.
The heat from her body scalds me, demanding I take her, making her mine. A courtesan needs no preamble, and with how wet she is for me, no other coaxing is needed. With a snap of my hips, I impale her with one thrust.
God but she’s tight. Her inner walls clamp around me, milking my body, robbing me of all rational thought. Light shoots from behind my eyelids as pleasure and relief in equal measure pour through me.
It takes a moment, but soon, the erotic haze dissipates as her soft whine of distress reaches my ears. That can’t be right. This should feel good to her. Cracking an eye open, I notice the rigid way she holds her body, the way her eyelids scrunch as she frowns.
I reach out to stroke her cheek, concern twisting my insides. As she finally opens, I see the pain and discomfort in their depths. And that’s when everything stills.
Sounds fade away as I extricate myself from her. There, in the flickering lights, is the proof of what I’ve just done. Light pink intersperses the arousal coating my cock, but there’s no denying that I’ve taken this young girl’s virginity.
Madame Douler’s insistence finally makes sense. It’s as if clarity descends upon me in crystalline shards that I can no longer ignore. I’m this girl’s first.
This knowledge should repulse me, make me angry that I allowed myself to fall into such a trap. I should want to apologize and beg forgiveness from this girl who still stares up at me, unblinking. But I don’t want any of those things.
An anxious air sizzles about her, but she stoically remains silent. I wish she would say something, do something, give me a reason to feel like a cad. And that’s when I realize it will never matter what she does. I will revel in the idea of being that monstrous villain if it means keeping her chained to my side.
Feral need races down my spine as I stare at the virginal blood. “Mine,” I snarl, easing myself back in.
And for a few tense moments, I know that I’ll never be rid of this girl. She’s given me the one thing I’ve never owned before. More than ever, I want all of it, all of her. I already have her virginity, but now I want her very soul.
CHAPTER 8
Kitty
“Shhhh, love,” his voice floats about my head like wisps of smoke. “Relax for me, my little kitten. Fight me, and this will hurt far worse.”
“You seem to like my discomfort, Your Grace,” I croak out, turning my face away from the devilishly handsome smirk lifting his lips.
Despite the zips of pain that threaten to make me bow up within the confines of my bonds, there’s still that sizzle of want and need. His voice plays over my skin, both soothing and irritating it at the same time.
My body throbs and aches as I turn about in the ropes. I wish the agony was far greater. That way, I could feel some sort of penance for allowing him to use my body this way. And yet, the things he’s done to me thus far, though frightening and uncomfortable, haven’t been nearly as painful as I thought they would be.
That is, until he took away the one thing that I truly owned. The one thing that made me desirable to other men. But what’s the sense in mourning that loss when my mere presence in this whipping house is enough to disgrace me from ever making an advantageous match?
Still though… For a moment, I close my eyes and allow a moment of sadness to wash over me. I can’t allow myself to wallow in it and give in to hysterics. Besides, I chose this. This is the price I must pay to keep my family safe and away from harm.
If this moment of my maidenhood being ripped from me is the worst of the punishment, I’ll take it in stride and do my best to be grateful for the pleasure that blossoms after the pain. Either way, it is done now. I’m officially a woman of the house, free to be used by any man who wants me.
And that is the pain that nearly cripples me. It doesn’t even compare to the lashing and hot wax dripped upon my person. Honestly, it makes losing my virginity even pale in comparison. Knowing that I will never belong to just one man shatters my resolve, allowing a single cry to flee from my lips to punctuate the air.
Concern flits over Birchleigh’s face as he lowers himself, nearly covering my body with his. The warmth from his skin soothes me a touch, but it doesn’t help the hole expanding in my heart. As his fingers skim my face, it makes that cavity grow even more until it’s almost unbearable.
But then, a thick, rich, luscious sound I’ve never heard before peppers the air. It smothers me, comforts me, and turns my body into liquid. I drown in the sonorous vibrations, soaking them in, allowing them to heal all the wounds, both internal and external.
The closest I can ever remember feeling anything like this was when my sister was on her deathbed, when her life hung in the balance and we didn’t know she’d be okay. Father made a similar noise, but it was nothing like this. Comparably, it was thin and reedy, not all-encompassing like Birchleigh’s.
The moment the duke skims his fingers down my breastbone, teasing the bits of skin exposed in between the coils of rope, my thoughts scatter, bringing me back into the moment. This intimate scene is not the place to reminisce and conjure ghosts of the past. A soft moan slips past my lips as my body relaxes even further into his touch.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, the purr never stopping. “Just a little bit more. Can you do that for me? I’m going to fuck your quim either way, but I’d rather you enjoy the process.”
I peer up into his eyes, noting an emotion that resembles remorse. And I realize I can’t blame Birchleigh for taking me in this manner. He didn’t know, and I didn’t confide in him the state of my virginity.
Once more, he slides forward, but this time, there’s only a sensation of stretching. It’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. In fact, underneath the slight sting is something else altogether. It causes my stomach to flutter and my muscles to clench.
“That’s it,” he croons, inching in a bit more. “You can take me, can’t you, my pretty little omega? Your body was made for this. Made for me. Bloody hell, Kitty, but you’re so tight. You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock like this.”
His words stir me, setting my heart to pounding. I want to obey him, to give him everything. But I know nothing of what he’s asking. All I can do is lie back and allow him to have his way with me.
It’s the one command I have control over. I have no earthly clue how to allow his girth further entrance. Perhaps that’s yet one more secret that’s been kept from me I’ll learn while working here.
Soft murmurs of pleasure tell me I’m at least doing something right. Luckily, bound as I am, I can’t make any further mistakes. Settling into the ropes, I picture them as Birchleigh’s arms, holding me, securing me, keeping me safe as he shatters the rest of my innocence.
Soon, his fingers dance across my skin, gentle this time, a hard contrast to the insistent stretching he’s forcing down below. They skim across my stomach, pausing at the top of my sex. I hold my breath, waiting, yearning, to see what he plans to do.
Will he reward me with pleasure similar to that of his mouth? Have I been good enough to receive such a touch? The moment he grazes that curious spot at my apex, my body ripples around him, loosening even more so that he can slide in another inch or two.
This time, instead of discomfort, a stretch that borders on pain, I feel nothing but pleasure and intense fullness. It’s a sensation I’ll treasure in my heart and look back on. Again, he touches me, sending tendrils of arousal through my body.
More wetness gathers between us, but instead of finding disgust in me, he continues to make sounds of approval. It hums through his lips as he continues to play with me, learning what makes me gasp and what makes me writhe.
Slowly but surely, we play this game. For every few strokes of his fingers, his member moves inside me, until he’s freely moving back and forth. This new friction brings about a different set of sensations, ones that have me twisting and turning in the ropes.
“That’s it, Kitty.” He pauses to grab my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “I want you to look at me. Eyes on me as I bring about your release.”
Confusion floods my brain as I train my eyes on him. He speaks about things I know not of. But even as I puzzle through his cipher, I find that I cannot keep my mind on the task at hand. Everything in me buzzes about, as if my insides long to fly outside of my body.
Right now, the only thing tethering me to the earth is the ropes and Birchleigh’s commanding presence. My heart beats hard and fast within my chest, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings. Surely he can hear it.
Rising just a touch, the duke grips my hips, pistoning in and out of my body. His member grazes nerve endings deep inside I never knew existed before this moment. Moaning, I close my eyes just for a second.
A hard slap to my inner thigh brings my gaze back up to him. There seems to be a note of disappointment in his demeanor, but most of it is swallowed up in pure, unadulterated lust. Again, he reaches between my legs and strokes me, forcing me to cry out as pleasure assails my body.
“Eyes. On. Me,” he repeats, his fingers roughly stroking me.
There’s a slight zip of discomfort. Not pain, exactly, but it’s a roughened edge of pleasure that sends me spiraling into the unknown. My lips part as a wanton moan rips from my throat.
Pleasure explodes through me, setting my limbs to quivering. Everything tightens inside, squeezing as I try to make sense of these new sensations. Unable to stop myself, my eyes shut as my body clenches.
This time, there is no rebuke, no retribution in his touch. However, he refuses to stop stroking me, even as my body quivers and light sparks behind my eyelids. I grow sensitive. Too sensitive.
“P- please, Your Grace,” I whimper, desperate to flee from the overwhelming sensations wracking my body.
“Oh no, my little strumpet. I suspect you have at least one more release in you. Come now, don’t you want to please me? Come for me, my pussycat. Let go for me again. You’re so damned beautiful when you do so.”
This time, he alternates stroking the nerves between my thighs and thrusting in and out, sending my brain into a spiral. I cannot speak. I cannot even think. His grunts bark out into the air, adding yet another layer of sensation brushing along my body.
I shudder as a new sensation sparks through me. Birchleigh is once more stretching me out, but this time, it’s far more immense. My fingers grasp at the rope as I find myself desperate for purchase.
I’m not frightened. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. Deep inside, I understand something profound is about to happen. Though I’m still not sure what. Whimpers and nonsensical words claw at my throat as the duke drives forward, taking me to some place I know I’ll never want to return from.
Once more, he strums his fingers over me, distracting me with his maddening touch. Sobs break free, floating in the ether. They sound foreign to my ears, as if coming from someone else entirely.
Is this me? Is this really what I’ve become? I long to cry out, to beg him to stop. Part of me needs him to end this torment before I’m forever ruined and unable to go back to the chaste girl I once was.
But the wicked, carnal part of me is desperate for another release. Somehow, he knew. I cannot fathom how a stranger knows my body better than I know it myself. And yet, I strain against the ropes, frenzied in my need to fall apart for this man.
“Please,” I whine, no longer sure what I’m begging for.
“Easy now, love. I’m almost in.”
Almost? Panic assails me for a moment as my body continues to open. How much more of him is left? Craning my neck up, I watch, my eyes locking onto the massive part of him stretching me open. It’s so impossibly large, and yet, the very sight causes more arousal to gather.
He slips in the rest of the way, groaning as his crisp hairs abrade my sensitive flesh. I feel him now, far more intimately than I did when he was merely rocking in and out. It’s a fullness I never expected.
It stills my breath even as my body cries out, rippling around him. Once firmly in place, he moves back and forth in minute movements that somehow rock my entire body into another release. This one tears through me, leaving me shaking, quaking underneath him.
With one more thrust, he throws his head back and groans long and loud. His member jerks a few times before my insides are bathed in a strange heat. Ripples of pleasure slither through my veins, drawing out a similar sound from between my lips. He stays there, his body tight, straining for a few scant moments before dropping his head to look at me.
The satisfaction and pleasure in his eyes root me to the spot. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. With soft, tender movements, he glides the pads of his fingertips over the swell of my cheek.
“Fucking well done, my little kitten.”
My heart burns at his praise, even if I shouldn’t want his words of acclamation for something so debased, so vile, so… absolutely decadent and perfect. I hide his compliments deep in my heart, saving them away for the next person to mount me.
That’s what I’m made for now, isn’t it? To be used by men until they release? Despair lances through my heart, the emotions clogging my throat. I want to beg the duke to rescue me, to take me away from this place and protect me. But I can’t.
Even in the haze of my release, I know Mr. Beaumont is still there. He’s still watching me, waiting for me to slip up and say something, forcing him to act. And so I keep quiet, refusing to allow my emotions to get the better of me.
Still locked inside, Birchleigh undoes the restraints, letting the rope fall to the floor. Relief floods my system as I move about, getting blood back into my limbs. I suppose it’s over now.
I move to sit up, but his strong, warm hand presses me down. “And just where do you think you’re going?”
“To clean up? I suppose you’re done with me.”
“Oh, is that what you think, my delectable little ingénue? Try. Let’s see how far away you get.”
My lips turn down into a frown as I raise up on my elbows. What game is he playing at? I shift my hips, desperate to flee from his presence, where I can mull over tonight's activities without an audience. But I find that I’m stuck. With each movement, sparks of pain zip through my body, gluing me to the spot.
“Not so easy, is it? Come, let us clean up together.” There’s an impish smile that crosses his face, a flash of some unknown mirth.
It does things to my insides that no smile ever should. Sliding his hands down my thighs, he urges my legs around his midsection. When he hugs me close to his body and lifts me up as if I weigh nothing, I sag against his large frame.
Again, that feeling of safety swamps my brain, muddying my senses until my eyelids start to flutter. When will I ever feel this safe again? My fingers drift over his chest, feeling the bunching of his muscles as he carries me out of that room and somewhere far more secluded.
He must have a routine here at this brothel. That or somehow the workers can just anticipate his thoughts. One by one, they file into the room and fill the massive tub in the center with warm water. And all without him saying a word.
Wrapping his arms around me, he keeps us conjoined as we sink into the steaming bath. A groan stutters from my lips as I rest my forehead against him. It feels so good to be held like this.
Still refusing to speak, Birchleigh cups water in his hands and runs it down my back before taking a cake of soap and cleaning me. The act is so intimate, so endearing. It causes my heart to break even further.
We sit there in the silence for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us says a word as he continues to cleanse away the actions of tonight. Even connected, he still seeks out every spot he can.
Soon, his fingers drift back down between my thighs, but instead of pleasuring me, he keeps his touch distant, clinical almost. That is until he runs his finger through the curls at my entrance. When he grazes that spot between my thighs that makes me moan and clench, it brings a soft smile to his lips
But he doesn’t stay there long. It’s just enough to reignite the need inside me before he dances away. His touch changes, switching up until he’s rubbing me, kneading my sore muscles.
Until this moment, I had no idea how much tension I was holding. But it melts at his insistence. Soon, I’m a languid puddle floating in the water, only connected to him by the knot which locks us together.
