Thea Devine - Fascinated

He suckled upon her nipples. He could almost taste sweetness from the hardened little nubs atop the soft mounds of her bosom. His lips moved down her torso, kissing, licking, nipping teasingly. She murmured encouragement to him. He nuzzled the wonderful dark, curly bush of curls atop her plump mound, sliding his long body down and between her milky white thighs. Her nether lips were already moist, a tiny pearl of silvery cum seeping from between them. He opened her tenderly and looked upon the rosy coral flesh for the first time. He had never used her in this fashion, for this was a lover's privilege, not a master's. Her little clit stood at attention, almost throbbing before his eyes. Bending forward, he began to lick it hungrily, then suck upon it.

Lucinda cried out with undisguised pleasure. Her fingers tangled themselves into his thick dark hair, kneading at his scalp desperately. "Oh, God, yes!" she sobbed. "Yes!" She felt his teeth gently grazing her, and she shuddered with delight.

Finally he could bear no more of their love play. Her nails were digging into his shoulders indicating her need, and his need was every bit as great. He pulled himself up and, slipping between her open legs, thrust his cock deep into her hot, wet love sheath, smiling as she sighed deeply beneath him. Slowly at first, and then more quickly he pistoned her, and Lucinda scored his back with her nails in her passion. Her teeth sank into his shoulder.

He was hard. His great cock probed deeply into her soft, yielding flesh. She sobbed with her need for him. This couldn't be the last time. It couldn't be. She wouldn't let it! She tightened herself around him as if she could never let him go. He groaned, and she wrapped her legs about his torso, sobbing. She was going to be the best fuck he had ever had, and when her revenge was complete, she would marry him. And he would want her! Then they came together in a blinding explosion of sensual delight that left them both half-conscious for several minutes afterward. / love you, Lucinda whispered in her heart, not knowing that he was silently whispering the same words to himself as his arms tightened about her comfortingly, and they slept.

When Lucinda awoke he was gone. The pillow where his head had rested was cold, but upon it lay a perfect white rose. She picked it up and smelled its heady fragrance, a smile upon her lips as she remembered their passion the night before. Now, however, it was morning. This night she would face her persecutors. Whatever happened, she would still triumph over them, but she hoped with all of her heart that she could be saved from their lust, which would be like a night jar washing over her and befouling her. But if he could not dissuade those three buffoons, they would live to regret their actions. That, Lucinda promised herself.

"Master says you are to have a nice bath, and then he has picked out the garments you will wear tonight," Polly told her mistress. "Ohh, just think, m'lady. Tomorrow we'll be on our way back to London!"

"Yes," Lucinda replied, "but you'll not be long there, Poll. You'll return to the country by Christmas and be in your new home."

"I won't mind," Polly responded, "but it will be nice to see old Londontown a final time. I'm used to the country, m'lady, and now I've got me John. It's the quiet life for us both."

She took a long, leisurely bath, and Polly washed her hair. Lucinda was very surprised by the garments she found he had chosen. There was a delicate cambric chemise edged in lace on the sleeves over which she wore a small corset of flowered white silk that Polly laced up the back. Next came a silk petticoat, then a hooped underskirt support of bent wood. Over it was a quilted satin underskirt, cream with lavender flowers. Lucinda's gown, its skirts looped up on either side to show the underskirt, was embroidered lavender silk. It had a deep, round scooped neckline allowing her breasts to swell slightly over the top, pushed up by her corset. The sleeves were tight to the elbow, and then a waterfall of creamy lace called en-gageants fell almost to her wrists below the sleeves. Her provocative neckline was edged in lace as well. Three bows adorned her pleated bodice, and there was a matching bow on each sleeve just above the engageants. She wore low-heeled slippers of cream silk on her feet and cream-colored silk stockings with rose garters. Her chestnut hair was piled high with several ringlets that tumbled down reaching her shoulders. Polly dressed it with fresh flowers. Pearl earbobs were fastened into her ears, and a filigreed gold cross on a chain was fastened about her slender neck.

Lucinda looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedchamber. "I look like the respectable lady I am," she said, and then she turned to The Master, who had just entered the room. "Why? Should I not be half-naked, or in something diaphanous meant to titillate?"

"No," he told her. "Not if my plan is meant to succeed, my pet. Tonight you must look and act the perfect lady. Now, remember to immediately obey every order I give you so it may seem as if you are properly mastered."

"What if your plan doesn't succeed?" she asked a final time.

"Then, my pet, you will find yourself stripped naked and bent over the Maiden Tamer so your suitors may have at you," he replied harshly. "So play your part well, Lucinda, that we may triumph over the Devil's Disciples this night." He took her hand up and kissed it. "One more thing, my pet. Polly, the patches, please." The maid handed him a small open box, and The Master extracted two black, heart-shaped patches which Polly dabbed with glue. The first he affixed to her left cheekbone. The second he put upon the swell of her right breast. "There, my pet, now you are ready," he said with a small smile.

He led her from the house, through the garden and the orchard, reversing their journey the first night she had come here. There was no long summer twilight for it was mid-September. Above them the full moon shone brightly, silvering the landscape around them. The little amphitheater was bright with flickering torches; its stands filled again with gentlemen in their dark, hooded cloaks. The Master wore his tight, dark breeches, his cock hanging boldly out, his white cambric shirt opened at the neck. As he led Lucinda forward, there was a gasp of surprise from his audience.

The Master bowed to them, and then said, "My lords, I present to you tonight, Lady Lucinda Harrington, well-mastered now, and as tamed as any good house kitten should be. Make your curtsey to the Devil's Disciples, my pet."

Lucinda curtsied low, her head bent slightly, but not so low that the gentlemen were denied a tantalizing view of her full breasts. She swallowed a giggle as many of them leaned forward eagerly to view the creamy swell of flesh with its shadowed dark valley. Their hot eyes seemed to be drawn to the little heart patch.

"We will begin, my lords, when you have put your hoods back," The Master announced.

Lucinda kept her face impassive as the hoods were flung back, and the faces, most of them familiar, were revealed. There was her brother, George, the saintly bishop, in the front row next to her three suitors. Oh, George would suffer for his perfidy, Lucinda thought, as eyes lowered, she considered her revenge.

"Why is she not naked?" the Duke of Rexford demanded.

"Aye, and where is the Maiden Tamer?" Lord Bertram called out.

"Hear me out, my lords," The Master said to them. "In the past you have brought me young women of low birth. I have mastered them for you, and you have had your sport. I have never failed you. This woman, however, is a real lady. While I have mastered her for you, I do not think you should use her publicly before our little club."

"And why not?" the Marquess of Hargrave wanted to know.

"Do you each still hope that Lady Lucinda will choose you for her husband, my lords?"

"Aye!" the trio exclaimed with one voice.

"And, my lords, will the one she chooses be content knowing the other two have had her publicly before most of their friends, the cream of society? Or does the lucky gentleman intend keeping the lady down in the country forever? And if her first child is born within the first year of the marriage, can the lucky gentleman be certain that the baby is his?"

"You have had her," the Duke of Rexford said. He sounded a bit irritated.

"That is true, my lord; but you do not know who I am, and the proper precautions were taken. Only one man among you knows who I am. If you met me at White's, or at a ball, you would not recognize me as The Master. None of you would, but for the one gentleman. But you all recognize each other, and know who holds membership in the Devil's Disciples, or the Hellfire. If you three publicly ravish Lady Lucinda tonight before your peers, you cannot stop the gossip that will ensue. The lady's reputation will be ruined, as will that of her husband. I know you do not want that.

"Allow me to suggest another way. The lady has been mastered by me, and you have had your revenge in part. On November fifteenth the Countess of Whitley holds her end of hunting season ball in London. We shall all be there. Lady Lucinda has promised me that at that ball her brother, George, will announce her betrothal. In the meantime she has agreed to receive you all as callers in her home at Number Three Traleigh Square, London. I am willing to accept the lady's word, so I am certain that the rest of you must. No one will be embarrassed by this. No one but the Devil's Disciples will know she has been with me these past three months and not in Ireland with her sister. As for you gentlemen, you will certainly not tell for fear your wives, daughters, sisters, mothers and mistresses learn of your lustful little peccadillos."

He looked to the duke, the marquess, and Lord Bertram. "Will you forgo your immediate pleasure, my lords, for all of our sakes?"

"I want to hear the lady agree to this," Lord Bertram said.

"My pet," The Master said, "will you give your suitors your word that you will announce your betrothal at the Countess of Whitley's ball in November?"

"You have my word on it, my lords, and I will indeed welcome you to Traleigh Square when I return to London. It will be my pleasure, I assure you," she purred seductively, and then she curtsied to them.

"I trust you have arranged suitable entertainment in place of Lady Lucinda?" the Duke of Rexford grumbled. Then he waved his hand. "I will agree to The Master's proposal. I certainly don't want it said that Bertram got to bugger my wife before I did."

"I agree as well," the Marquess of Hargrave said.

"And I," Lord Bertram responded.

"Very well, my lords, then it is settled. John! Escort Lady Lucinda back to the house at once. As for you, my lords, when did you ever visit me that I did not provide suitable entertainment for you?" He clapped his hands, and at once a troupe of bare-legged gypsy girls ran into the arena and began to dance, flinging their skirts in the air to display rounded brown buttocks and dark-furred quims. "For starters, my lords," The Master said with a grin. "And later we will be auctioning off a most willing young virgin from the village. You all know her sisters quite well. We will auction both of her virginities, her cunt and her arse. And, of course, we have both village lads and lasses available for your pleasure. The wine barrels are filled with the finest of aphrodisiacs. I shall rejoin you as soon as I have ascertained Lady Lucinda is safely within the house and my randy footmen are not fucking her poor young maid, Polly, a final time."

He hurried off, leaving the Devil's Disciples to their lustful and bacchanalian revels. He reached the house just behind Lucinda and John.

She flung herself into his arms and kissed him most passionately. "Thank you, my lord," Lucinda told him happily.

"I must attend to my guests," he said. "I shall not see you again, Lucinda. You will leave at first light tomorrow for London. All has been arranged for your journey. I understand that John will go with you. We shall not meet again." He gently removed her arms from about his neck.

"We shall meet at the Countess of Whitley's ball, sir. You have promised me, and I know you will keep your promise."

He kissed her hand, smiling almost ruefully. "I will," he agreed.

"Then, we shall meet again, for I shall find you there," she told him.

Lady Lucinda Harrington's traveling carriage drew up before the well-scrubbed white marble steps of Three Traleigh Square, on a bright September afternoon. The coach had barely drawn to a stop when the door to the house opened, and several footmen, clad in dark blue and silver livery, ran out to greet it. John, seated with the coachman on the box, raised an inquiring eyebrow, for he had been told Lady Lucinda would be hiring new servants herself. The door to the vehicle was opened, the steps pulled down, and a footman's hand steadying hers, Lady Lucinda descended from the coach, shaking her skirts free of wrinkles.