Silver Silk Ties Page 4

  "Here?" Her tone was hard. He would not wish to cross her when she was riled.

  "Never here. You are the first person to have seen this room. No, I have demonstrated in—"

  "Ah, Felton, let us please stop fencing. In the house on

  Silk Street

  . I see the accounts. You may not charge for your demonstrations, but you do account for them."

  Thank the lord no names were used in the accounts. It would never do for Ara to know who his model had been.

  "In that you are correct. Have you seen enough? If so we should retire to somewhere more amenable to what I have in mind."

  "With a proper harness?" she asked. Her eyes shone and she giggled. "This night is turning out to be so much better than I had thought."

  Felton flicked his fingers over her arm. "Wait and see." He took her arm and led her across the room to yet another door.

  "So many doors and passages. Where are we?"

  "Dalrey House. The last passage leads directly under the mews from

  Silk Street

  ." He ushered her up another flight of stairs, these well lit and into a small chamber, empty except for a large cupboard, and two lacquered screens to each side of it.

  "If we go further, there will be no turning back, Ara. I had not thought to do this to you. I had not hoped I could do this to you. I expected a conventional acceptable marriage, and this side of me to be ignored."

  She tilted her head to one side, her interest evident. "And never to be assuaged?"

  He shrugged. "Not where it could harm you. Oufft!"

  She had clenched her fist and punched him hard in the stomach.

  Only a spit-second of awareness gave him time to tighten his muscles and deflect most of the impact. Her gasp of pain smote his conscience. He hoped she had not given herself an injury.

  "Not at all, unless you wish me to pursue you with a kitchen knife, my lord. I swear now, if you do anything without me, it will be only the once."

  He laughed and watched, fascinated, as she ground her teeth. It was something he had never seen before, and she reminded him of a furious, spitting kitten.

  "If you agree to this liaison—relationship—marriage, I will have no need to do anything without you."

  "Hmm, that is true. So, what now?" she asked.

  To stall for time, he opened the cupboard and withdrew two silk gowns. "We decide on our parameters. As much as I wish to fuck you five ways from Friday, I have to know what your limits are. And then tell you some things that may better be unsaid. But I have decided we will have no secrets between us. Are you agreeable?"

  Ara walked across to one of the screens and, with one finger, traced the outline of a dragon, spitting fire. She turned to look at him, the seriousness of her demeanor at odds with her slightly disheveled look. With a swift movement of impatience, she pulled the pins from her hair.

  Felton watched, fascinated, as her dark curls tumbled over her body, teasing the top of her arse, and covering her breasts. He determined there and then to enjoy her thus, without the annoyance of clothing, but he rather thought with the long row of pearls he had earmarked as a wedding present around her waist and inside her cunt. When he had commissioned the string, he had hardly dared admit to himself what he dreamed of using them for.

  Ara ran her fingers through her hair. "Ah, that is better. I detest my hair confined. It is so much more comfortable thus."

  "Then shall I demand that when we are alone, you never tie it up? That only I tie anything, and it will not be your hair?"

  "I think," Ara said, all seriousness, "we need to talk."

  He handed her a robe. "Will you undress and wear this then? Shall I unhook you?"

  Ara shook her head. His heart sank. She was saying no?

  "No, I can unhook myself, thank you. If I let you near my body, I will be a quivering mass of frustration," Ara said frankly. "But I will wear the robe. Will you?"

  "But of course. It will be our ritual. Go behind the screen if you wish, and once you are ready, we will go through."

  "To your room?"

  "Our room," he corrected her. "No, to a sitting room. Only once we are clear on what we expect will we go into our silk room."

  Ara peered out from behind the screen where she had disappeared a few seconds earlier. "Silk room?"

  "Why not? What else would you call it?"

  Chapter Six

  Ara considered his question as she made short shrift of her hooks and ties. Silk seemed more than appropriate. She thought of those ropes she had seen hanging from the ceiling earlier. They had not been silk, but she could well imagine they would feel so delicate if he allowed himself to let them cross her skin. Well, it was up to her to persuade him she was ready and willing.

  "Ara?" he asked, and she realized she hadn't answered him.

  "Oh, I like it, sir." Sir? Where did that come from?

  "Good girl." His deep voice had her juices flowing over her womanhood and down her thigh. "Come out and into the next room when you are ready. I'll wait for you there, and pour you a drink."

  "Wine," she said. "No disgusting ratafia please, I beg of you."

  "Oh, I like you saying that, Ara," he said and laughed. "Please beg. I am sure I will find it hard to deny you." There was the sound of a door opening and closing.

  Left alone, she tried to calm her quivering body, and took several deep breaths. The gown was a soft slither of silk, deep blue, the color of the finest sapphires with a sheen of a peacock's wing. She slipped it on, savoring the way it embraced her body.

  Hanging from a hook on the wall, next to a mirror unseen unless you were behind the screen, was a hairbrush. With swift, economical movements she drew it though her long tresses and winced at the pain as she untangled knots. There, she was ready. As she went to replace the brush, she saw the parchment fixed to the wall. 'Bring it with you.' Who was that meant for?, Ara decided she may as well begin to remember her chosen role. Ara slipped it into a deep pocket in the robe and began to walk to the door she had yet to access. Stopping, she turned on her heels and went back behind the screen to lift the parchment, fold it and place it next to the hairbrush in her pocket. Now she was ready.

  Felton looked up as she entered the room. The fire glowed, the coals settled and not sparking.

  "Join me here." He indicated the seat next to him on a long day bed. She noticed he was also wearing a robe. His was a dark maroon. It scarcely covered him as he sat sprawled in studied insolence, masculinity personified.

  Obediently, she walked across the oriental-patterned carpet and sat next to him, the skirt of her robe wrapping across her knees.

  Felton handed her a goblet. Its golden-pink contents bubbled and fizzed. He must have noticed her quizzical expression for he chuckled. "I have relations who survived the Corsican and prospered. This wine is the wine of the future of France. At present they are able to bottle and store very little, but as times change and methods improve, it will become the king of wines."

  Ara took a sip. The bubbles teased her nose and she sneezed. "Sweetish, and I taste summer," she said. She took another cautious sip. "I like it."

  "Good.” He took the glass from her hands and set it down on a table. "So now, we talk." It was not a question. "Honesty and truth now, Ara. We hold on to nothing. Between us we must be open and true. If we admit and disclose everything now, we will be free to move on together. What say you?"

  "I say yes, my lord." His face relaxed, and Ara's cunt did the opposite. How could he make her want to plead for him to take her? To show her paradise once more? All with one relaxed, open look.

  "So, I will start. Will you go to the set of drawers over there?" He pointed to a cupboard commonly called an elbow chest. "Inside is a box. Bring it to me, set it on the floor between us, and seat yourself again."

  Puzzled, but interested, Ara rose and tightened the belt on her robe. Silk was not known for holding a lose tie, and in her eagerness to join him, she had not secured the ends tightly.

&
nbsp; "No, leave it. If it loosens, it is your fault. And I am desirous of seeing all of you, my wife."

  Ah, well, if he puts it like that. Ara walked slowly to the furniture he had mentioned, and opened the cupboard on one side. The box was not overlarge. Big enough for her to have difficulty maneuvering it through the aperture and onto the floor. As she bent to lift it, the belt, which had been slipping away from its mooring with each movement she made, fell apart and her robe gaped. She shrugged mentally. If he demanded her not to retie it, she wouldn't.

  "Slip it off, Ara. It will hinder you otherwise. As you will spend most of our time together naked, you may as well start now."

  "If I agree to your demands," she said. With a jolt of awareness that sent her pulse racing, she realized even as she spoke, she had let the gown slip to the floor. Her hairbrush and the parchment fell out.

  Felton smiled.

  "I wondered if you would bring that. Leave it for now. We will decide if I color your beautiful arse with it later. For now, the box please."

  Straightening with the box in her hands, her curl-less cunt on view, she caught the flash of naked desire in his eyes before he hid it. She was satisfied.

  As he had commanded earlier, she put it on the floor, between their seats, and resumed hers.

  "Do you wonder what is in this, Ara? It is for you, if we continue." He opened it and lifted out a long, perfectly matched string of pearls. Ana gasped, they were magnificent. He put then over her neck and they fell between her breasts and past her cunt. "Beautiful. I have a pearl choker which it would please me to see you wear. These I would prefer around your waist and inside your cunt. So. Let us move on. What do you know of me?"

  Ara took a deep breath and ran her hands down the pearls and over her thighs. The thought of them inside her, and Felton toying with them, was almost enough to have her come there and then. She did her best to step back from the edge. "Not a lot. You are, I believe, a Dominant, one who directs. You enjoy rope play, but are not one who uses ropes for sadism, merely to enhance pleasure. You rarely, if ever, play within the ton, or touch others of a different class. Therefore, most of your dalliances have been out with this country. It is whispered you are a master of rope play, and the flogger, your creations with a candle and wax are magnificent, and you can judge to a fine art how to bring your sub to the edge of an orgasm and leave her there." Everything her late husband had talked about now made sense. He may not have mentioned Felton by name. Always by the initial F. As Ara, thought the F was a title of surname, she hadn't until that evening connected it with her new husband.

  "And, no," she added, "George did not tell me this in so many words. He told me about the person in charge of the house on

  Silk Street

  in very general terms." Her words tumbled over each other in her hurry to explain. "That he was a maestro and would play as a master, and keep my heritage in very good condition." She giggled. "George was very good at double entendres."

  Felton joined in with her laughter. "It seems so. He told me that if I looked after you, as you deserved, I would get my just and true rewards." He sobered and, with studied deliberation, he opened his robe. Then he took one of her hands in his, brought it to his cock and curled her fingers around him.

  Ara moaned. She felt heat, hardness and a soft velvet skin that would fuck her to fruition and beyond.

  "Tell me, sir, what must I do?" She slid off the seat and on to the floor, making sure she didn't remove her fingers. Carefully, she knelt in front of him, the pearls tracing a line down her body. With her head bowed, she waited to see what he would do or say.

  The silence lengthened until her skin crawled with worry. Was he going to tell her she was not for him? That she was not submissive enough, that she challenged him too much? Her heart was pounding, and her ears rang.

  "Lift your head," he said, his tone even. With a lump in her mouth the size of one of John Nash's crescent of houses, she did so.

  "Sir?" She used the title once more without volition.

  "What happens in these rooms are for us to decide and agree on, Ara. It is for no one else. I do not share, either my lady or details of our life."

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and began to comb them though her tresses from her scalp to the bottom. The soft sensual touch made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Her fingers tightened on his cock, and she ran the tip of her index finger over its head to collect the liquid gathered there. Her gentle touch caused it to jerk and she forced herself not to bend her head and run her tongue around its length.

  "I am a Dominant, but not, I believe domineering. I like to direct, but not coerce. I will push you, but do nothing you do not want."

  He smiled and motioned for her to stand. Without unclasping her fingers, she did so. His smile sends me weak at the knees. I am wet and wanting, and he has yet to touch me. I have it bad. What is it? Why do I feel this way?

  Ara's mind whirled, a kaleidoscope of pictures flashing through it. The scenes of them joined together, his cock deep inside her, and of her body, crisscrossed with silk, aroused and excited her. How could she feel so wanton by something she had not experienced?

  Felton touched her arm, and moved her hand from his prick. The loss of connection hit Ara. She missed the silky warmth of holding him.

  "Later." It was evident he noticed her disappointment. "Come and sit here." He stood to shrug out of his robe, and helped her to sit sideways on his lap. Once she was settled, he pulled her head onto his chest, and then put his arm around her. His fingers touched the underside of her breast and her nipples puckered. That simple contact sent her arousal soaring.

  "Just this once I need to ask you, Ara. What experience have you? We have skirted the issue." He nuzzled the top of her head. "Do you even wish to continue with this lifestyle?"

  If she hadn't been listening carefully, Ara would have missed the careful way he formulated his words.

  Why, he is apprehensive. Does he believe I will say no? How can I reassure him?

  "My lord, I have missed not lying with a man," Ara said frankly. "No, that is not exactly true. I could not be with any man. It needs to be someone special. Why do you think I married you? I was sure, once we made love, you would see I was the person for you. That we would discover each other's depths, and grow together. I disbelieved the, 'I will not bother you speech' you made, for I was sure I saw interest in your eyes. With stupid conceit, I already knew if you allowed me, I could be your perfect partner. I thought you to be of the same mind. Imagine my chagrin when you left me."

  "Ah, love, I dare not stay. I wanted to bring you here, see you in all your naked glory, take you next door, and begin a life together."

  "So why did you not?"

  "Ara, I might have been told you would be submissive, be agreeable to a life such as I enjoy, but to leap straight into finding out, on our wedding night? No, I felt it was one step too far." He began to tease and pinch her nipple. As it hardened under his ministrations, his cock rubbed her arse. Ara wriggled to bring it closer towards her quim.

  "Minx." He nipped just short of pain. "Do not, or I will be spent before we begin. I do not wish to punish you, love, before we even decide on our boundaries."

  Ara lost patience. "Then show me what you want. I have my safe word. I will not hesitate to use it if I have need. Not that I think I will. You are all talk, my lord. I have seen very little action. I am sat her, on a cock so impatient for attention it is pounding my arse, and still you do nothing. What must I say or do?" Ana had no doubt she was courting chastisement. She twisted and took his nipple in her mouth. As her tongue swirled and laved, he took the pearls and slipped them inside her cunt and teased her channel. Ah, now I have a response from him. She wriggled to pull them further inside, and felt the sweet sting as he nipped her nub.

  "So, my lord, must I beg? Will you ever fuck me?"

  Chapter Seven

  Felton contemplated Ara, his fingers continued to nip and sooth first one nipple then the other. With de
licate precision, he pushed and pulled the pearls inside her. Still he said nothing, just waiting as she fidgeted. His control was sorely stretched as she moved on his cock. There was nothing he would like more than to plunge it into her arse there and then, with no preliminaries, but he held himself in check.

  After what seemed an aeon, she stopped moving and bent her head.

  "If we retire into the next room, Ara, I take that as your consent to be my submissive. To let me show you what we both need, and how we can achieve that. In return, you have my oath, I will respect you, and your safe word, but once in there, you will obey me. Is that understood?"

  She looked up at him then, and he saw something in her eyes that made his breath stop. Total trust.

  "Yes, sir."

  It was all he could do not to let his breath out in one loud whoosh. Until that moment, he had never entertained the thought of continuing his role outside those rooms, but now he wondered. Would they?

  "Good girl. Then go through, and stretch out on the bed."

  "The b–"

  He raised an eyebrow and Ara faltered to a stop, her expression puzzled.

  "Yes, sir." He moved his hand from her and she stood.

  Felton watched her walk, her long hair streaming down her back to the base of her spine. He was certain she was unconscious how provocative her steps were. Each time she placed her foot down, the cheeks of her bottom clenched, and his cock responded, coating its length with his pre cum. At the door, she paused. He knew she was searching for the handle. In fact it opened with a lever to one side. He waited a few seconds to allow himself to admire the view before he offered up the information.

  There was no need to impart it. With a tssk of annoyance, Ara found the lever and pressed. As she disappeared from view, Felton gave his cock one hard hand-stretch. Soon, he thought, very soon I will use my prick to impale her. He judged he had given her long enough to do as he bade, and stood to follow.