Miss Simpkins' School: Lydia Page 3

  Lydia trembled. This was a man she didn’t know. But I’d like to. He may sound harsh and look severe but a glint in the depths of his eyes hinted at something more than ire. It struck Lydia like an arrow from a bow and she shivered. The feeling was the one akin to how she felt when she was about to pleasure herself.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord.” Why did I invest his title with capitals? “I’m somewhat apprehensive about all of this.” She waved her hand to encompass the room. “Not only this, my lack of social skills and my need to appeal to and please you. I’m floundering, and have no idea how not to be so.”

  “Then come here.”

  Three words that could change my life. Lydia swallowed hard. She moved up off the console and stood tall. Do it, do it.

  “And kneel at my feet.”

  Dare I do it? Even as she hesitated in her mind, her body made the decision for her, and she began to walk.

  Chapter Five

  George glanced at the clock. They’d wasted over twenty minutes with Lydia being uncharacteristically coy. Even though he had been told by both Hermione and Molly that Lydia wanted him and all his needs, he had to make sure. He was under no illusion that once she was his he would be able to let her go. Their parents may think they had concocted the idea that he and Lydia become betrothed and wed, but he’d managed to infiltrate the idea to them without either of them realizing. George had wanted Lydia from the first time she’d emerged from the schoolroom, not a gangly schoolgirl who hung unto his every word, but as a young lady and made her debut. Caution made him wait until she was older, more assured, and able to meet him as near an equal as possible. Now was that time.

  It seemed to take an age as she crossed the floor, her footsteps muffled by the carpet, and stood silently in front of him. Then with the innate elegance she possessed she knelt and bent her head. “Like this, My Lord?” He heard her intonation and was more than pleased. George was determined he would have to find the appropriate fond name for her for when they played.

  “Perfect, sweetness.”

  She snorted.

  He chuckled. “Not appropriate? You see, when we’re together like this I need a name, a sobriquet to call you. In this mode I expect instant obedience, an extra connection. I’ll tell you now I have worked toward this moment for many a month. Why do you think our parents were so insistent? They don’t know they were manipulated, but if we are to be together there will be no secrets between us. You agree?” He held his breath.

  “Of course I do. Because I had heard things about you, and it made me all the more determined that I could and would be all you want or need. So a cognomen.” She tilted her head to one side. “Honey.”

  “Why?” It suited her. In the candlelight her hair was the color the honey made from bees that feasted on the moorland bushes near one of his estates.

  “Because you and I know I can be sweet but not sickly?”

  He bowed. “Then Honey it is. When I call you that I’m preparing to what I will call play. But it’s not play as a child would indulge in. My play is hot, hard, and will push you to places you’ve never even dreamed of. Not yet though.” He was gratified by the disappointment that suffused her face. “Honey,” he used the term deliberately. “I assume you have yet to see a man’s unclothed body, let alone experience love making in any form?”

  “Sadly yes, but I’m more than ready to be shown, My Lord.” Again the emphasis on his title. It seemed it was her way of conferring his authority over her. “I have heard to be fucked by an expert is everything a woman will want. I myself don’t agree. I think I need other things as well.” She blushed and put her hands to her cheeks. “I wish to be spanked and feel the sweet sting it brings.”

  His heart jumped and his skin tingled. Had she really said that? “Say it again. No don’t look up. Untie your hair, and then put your hands in your lap.”

  He waited while she did as he asked and then she said distinctly, “I have heard it pleases you to spank your ladies. The though of this gives me strange feelings, good feelings, and I wish to experience it please.”

  “Then follow me. On your knees. Lift your skirt so it doesn’t hinder you.”

  Was he pushing too hard too soon? She was untried, a virgin who knew naught in practice.

  George walked to a slim door set in the paneling beside the fireplace and opened it. Very few people knew of this adjoining room’s existence. Inside was a dominant’s paradise. Conceived by certain gentlemen of a similar persuasion to him, and with their ladies input, it was designed as Molly put it, “As the perfect classroom.”

  Behind him he heard a gasp, a groan, and then an epithet, which he thought was “bloody skirts.” He had to agree.

  Lydia made her way toward him on hands and knees. She’d kilted the material around her waist, and to his delight her lower limbs flashed smooth and silky in the light. As she reached him she let her head fall forward and her hair streamed down to touch the floor.

  “Ah, Honey, this is so perfect. Now let me help you up.” He put his hands under her arms and helped her to her feet. “No, don’t drop your skirts, let me feast my eyes on your quim as I intend to feast my mouth and my cock later.” She bit her lip and moved her hand away from her waist. The downy blond muff now revealed shouted “shave me” to him. Later.

  “To start we’ll go into the bedchamber of sorts. Few people know it’s here but to introduce you to me, and my desires it’s perfect. Look around, take your fill, and ask questions.” He led her into the tiny, well-appointed room and stood back to let her peruse the furnishings. George wondered how she would see it.

  A bed yes. However, no ordinary bed. It wasn’t a four-poster, but long and wide, with a carved head and footboard with holes in them. Through each hole ropes and ribbons dangled to entice and tease. Lydia’s gasp and the sensual way she stroked the ribbon made his cock harden and push against his pantaloons. She picked up the unlit candles on the dresser and sniffed.

  “They have no smell, no color, and are unlit?”

  “For wax play. To drip wax onto your skin, hear you sound your arousal and see the soft redness it brings. It would be my pleasure you treat you thus.”

  She nodded and said nothing for a while. Then she spoke in a soft, interested voice. “This is to spank?” She gave him the candle and stroked the leather and silk flogger over her arm. “Does it sting?”

  “Or thuds, depending how and where I use it. On your arse the pain will not be as intense as on your cunt. You will experience both eventually.”

  She looked at him for several seconds, and then at the flogger in her hand. After a moment, she passed it to him. “So, My Lord, what will I experience now?”

  He swished the flogger several times, testing its give and whippiness. “Nothing until we discuss words to make me stop. Safe words. To stop play immediately say red. To ask me to pause whilst we talk, ‘tis yellow, and to tell me all is well ‘tis green. Repeat please.” Now they had got this far he was anxious to proceed. Their time together was ticking away.

  “Red no, yellow perhaps, green yes.”

  “So color, Honey?”

  “Oh, green.”

  He nodded. “Then undress and lie on the bed face down please.” He decided it was time to at last inject a modicum of politeness into these first few requests. “No, you don’t need a screen to hide behind. Here is fine.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as again her hands trembled as she put her fingers on the ties at the front of her dress. George had a brief—swiftly quashed—tinge of guilt, at how hard he was pushing. “Remember you can cry red at anytime.” She nodded, took a deep breath, and he held his own.

  “So I can.” The ribbons fell apart and Lydia shrugged her shoulders to let the soft silk side over her arms, and then to the floor. She grinned. “Oh so I can. Face down you said? Is this so I can’t see what happens? To increase my anticipation?”

  “Clever, Honey. Partly, but also so I can give your first taste of a spanking for pleasure.”

  Cha
pter Six

  Lydia had no idea how she made her limbs work as she concentrated on getting from her stance next to George to the bed. It was high and she looked at it doubtfully. It wasn’t going to be easy to get on to it with any degree of elegance. Ah well. She got her first knee onto the mattress and prepared to hitch herself fully up.

  “Wait.”

  She stopped fully stretched.

  “How does it make you feel to know I can see your arse, with its tiny puckered hole beckoning to me? To see your nub teasing me from between your legs, and to see the evidence of your arousal coat your thighs?”

  What? She took a quick glance downward to see her juices in evidence on her muff and legs. “Excited,” she told him honestly.

  “Good girl.” His touch as he stroked her arse was as unexpected as it was arousing. “This is how you make me feel.” His hand left her skin, and she missed that gentle touch more acutely than she could have imagined. Then she gasped. Because whatever stroked the soft indentation between the globes of her cheeks was no hand.

  Evidently George had taken the opportunity to disrobe as well, because if her perusal of those etchings in her father’s study weren’t wrong, she rather thought it was his cock that teased her.

  “One day, Honey, I’m going to take you here.” The tip of his cock pushed oh so slightly over her hole. “One day. Now let me help you onto the bed so I can give you a taste of my delights.”

  Within seconds she was stretched flat on her front, her head to one side on a soft pillow, her hands clenched at her sides. Not because she was scared; quite the opposite. Lydia was worried she’d explode before anything much happened. Even now the tingles and quivers inside her had her skin tight and her body shivering for more.

  “Oh so beautiful, Honey. Stretched out for me, ready to feel my hand and one day our flogger. Now I’m going to tie your arms out from your sides because if you jerk I might hurt you.”

  “I thought that was the idea?” Lydia lifted her head to look at George. Seeing him for the first time in his naked glory, his cock hard and jutting out from its nest of hairs made her mouth dry. He was magnificent; all honed body and muscle. The tip of his prick was wet, and as she stared and licked her lips, the droplets that gathered slid slowly along the length. Hadn’t she read a man liked a woman to take it, juice and all into their mouth? She’d enjoy that as well.

  “Soon,” George promised and laughed. “If you lick your lips like that and look at my tool as if it is the way to ecstasy, I have no problem in interpreting your desire. First though I need to tie you. Color?”

  “Green.”

  For a man with a cock that looked as if it could break with one tap, he moved fast. Within seconds Lydia had the unknown feeling of not being able to move her arms. Her legs were free, but held firmly under George and he’d raised her arse off the bed with a cushion. Having told him once more her color was green, Lydia relaxed as he massaged her back and then her arse.

  The first spank made her jump. It wasn’t much more than a caress and it tickled rather than stung. She hoped that wasn’t it. The next was harder and by the fourth or fifth she began to bite her lip. Between each stroke George caressed her skin and checked her color. By the tenth smack, which was much harder and more intense she flew. Harsh, happy sobs escaped and Lydia shook with the intensity of her feelings. Her body screamed fill me, and every inch was aflame with that need.

  She was dimly aware of George untying her and then he cradled her in his arms. “Oh my Honey, do you know how perfect this is. To see you accept my touch, to watch you redden under my hand and to see you fly. Now I’m going to fill you and watch you come apart.”

  “You mean there’s more? Oh my,” Lydia said. Her tongue felt as if it wasn’t working properly, and she ran it around the inside of her mouth. The gesture made her remember something. “I’ve never been kissed by you,” she said in a rush. “Um, perhaps...” Her voice trailed off. “Oh sorry, My Lord.”

  George’s head fell back and he gave a loud, loud laugh. “Well we’d best remedy that. Let you feel my tongue in your mouth before my cock in your cunt. Or indeed my tongue in your channel. That will be honey indeed.”

  Oh lord.

  The mattress moved as George put her down onto it, and then stretched out beside her. He traced the outline of her eyes and then stroked her cheeks softly, prior to holding her face in his palms. His breath stirred her hair and danced over her cheeks before he touched his lips to hers. It was such a swift and gentle contact. Lydia wondered if indeed she had felt it or if it was all in her imagination. Perhaps she’d wake up in her own bed, wet, wanting, and clutching at something or someone who wasn’t there?

  “Open for me, Honey.” This time the touch was definite. His tongue pressed incessantly demanding entrance, and she obeyed.

  Why am I not scared? Because it’s George, and from him I want it all. As their tongues meshed, he nudged her legs open with his knee. She let them fall apart only to tense as, with a murmur of apology, he broke the kiss. Lydia opened her eyes a little to see him move and kneel between her knees.

  “That’s it, watch us become as one. Watch us dance.” George lifted her legs, one at a time, and draped one of her ankles over each shoulder. His cock was poised at the entrance to her channel, and with delicate precision he rubbed the tip over her nub, and nudged her.

  She tensed. It was big, hard, warm, and wet. “Surely it won’t fit?”

  “Watch it,” George advised her. “Watch how well you accept me, how you hold me, and how we both go into the abyss together. Watch us dance, Lydia, our dance.” He pushed, and she gasped. He filled her inch-by-inch, with regular pauses to let her adjust to him. Then he grunted. “Ah sweet lord, I can not but hurt you.”

  She was having none of it. “I have ridden since a youngster, I have been told it helps, so just do it and let me worry.” She clenched her muscles and held onto him. “Move into me please. Now.”

  “Now,” he agreed, and surged the final inch into her in one smooth movement.

  Lydia sobbed in delight. It was so perfect, so fulfilling, so them, so their own personal dance. Without conscious effort she matched each push and release with one of her own until she tingled all over and knew it was time to...

  “Come for me, Honey, now.” George pinched her nub and she screamed as her world swirled. Her channel clamped around him as he joined her in a climax so hard and fast, he panted and slumped on top of her. His breath was harsh in her ears, and his chest heaved.

  “Our dance,” he slurred. “No mistakes, one perfect rhythm. Do you need more?”

  She stretched as he lifted onto his arms and looked down at her.

  “Always, My Lord. A life time of more.”

  “Then it’s yours. When do we tell the mama’s?”

  Lydia giggled. “Oh, not yet. We still have time to be us.”

  George looked at the clock and sighed. He kissed the tip of Lydia’s nose and she giggled. “That tickles”

  “The last of our worries, we have but ten minutes before Molly rejoins us, and you have to get to the Addersleys.”

  Lydia sniggered and blushed. “Ah, well no. I promise ‘twill be the only time I’ll lie to you, My Lord. Molly knew if I didn’t ring the bell in the first hour she was not to disturb us unless we rang again, and Tilly and Adriana would be most disappointed if I arrive there. Do you know how difficult all this was to arrange?”

  George blinked. “Women. Then let’s not disappoint any of you.” He dipped his head to her breast, tugged on one hard nipple, and began to nibble his way downward. “There’s a lot to discover.”

  Epilogue

  “There’s another of them there invites for you, Miss. Looks like they won’t take no for an answer.” Towse entered the room after a cursory knock and handed Molly a sealed paper.

  Molly took it from him automatically, and dropped the newssheet she’d been holding onto her lap. Towse looked tired, and not for the first time she wondered what he got up to when
not on duty. Her servants were loyal to each other as well as her, and no one would divulge each other’s past times. Not that his evident weariness impaired his ability to do his job, but Molly worried there was something she could do to help, and wasn’t given the opportunity. Her feelings for the man were something she scarce admitted, even to herself. Unless he was prepared to share she was helpless.

  “You look tired, Towse. Is anything wrong?’

  “Not at all my lady,” he replied promptly. “The chimney sweep was early.”

  That is a lie, I heard him, and it was well after seven. However, she kept her mouth shut. Instead of quizzing him further, Molly turned the heavy vellum in her hand over to see the ducal seal on the back. Hmm, interesting.

  “I was to tell you they’re waiting for you now, and the carriage is outside.” He winked. “They said you prevaricate and demur too often for it to be good for you.” He paused. “Or business.”

  She smiled wryly, lifted the newssheet from her lap, and handed it to Towse. It had very little in it to hold her interest, and if nothing else would help to kindle a fire.

  “A low blow, Towse, bringing business into it.”

  Towse nodded. “I was advised you’d say that as well, Miss. It appears the sender knows you well.”

  “Really?”

  “Really and, Miss, it behooves you to do as you’re asked, I reckon. I’ve to say you have thirty minutes. The sender also mentioned they felt it best to take you by surprise, so you’d have less time to formulate an excuse.”

  Molly stood up and stretched. “Then I best make haste hadn’t I,” she said and hurried out of the room, the decision made for her.

  Biography

  A multi-published author of erotic romance, Raven lives in Scotland, along with her husband and their two cats—their children having flown the nest—surrounded by beautiful scenery, which inspires a lot of the settings in her books.