Chapter 7
The sight of Peter’s head between her thighs never failed to make Lucy cry out. He was laboring there, his expression suggesting that he was quite pleased with himself and his lot in life, licking and sucking her with ardor and growing skill.
They’d encountered a passage in a pornographic book that mentioned oral pleasure for the female. Peter had disappeared the next day, returning just before dinner with a stack of new books that he thought might illustrate the best way to do just that.
Lucy must have spent days on her back and knees, tasted and tried from all angles as her husband sought to master her cunny with his lips and tongue.
“I thought the bad duke was going to punish me,” she said, her mind hazy yet alert enough to recall the game they’d begun in the drawing room.
It was so nice to have a playmate in this thing that had been a solitary adventure until so recently.
Lucy suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes, realizing that — for the first time in her life — she had someone. Peter had become dear to her.
“The bad duke needs to see that you’re properly slick for all the devious things he has in store,” said Peter, his growl fading to something more like his usual voice.
“If you just lick me—”
“Oh no, I have something special planned for a most naughty debutante.” Peter leered at her, and she couldn’t contain a laugh.
“You may giggle now, Miss Ninepence, but I’ll only hear moans of pleasure when you take,” he rasped, drawing forth something from the bedside table, “my quizzing glass!”
In his hand, he brandished the quizzing glass that had brought them together, the object she’d once cursed. How funny that it now seemed like the dearest treasure of all their belongings, the gold thread connecting their lives so improbably.
“You can’t mean…”
“Oh, but I can, Miss Ninepence!” he cried. “You have dishonored me, and now I mean to heap that shame upon you! Feel the wrath of my quizzing glass!”
Lucy dissolved into giggles at her husband’s theatricality. Ahh, may they spend all of their days together and so amused.
And then she felt the gentle touch of the handle to her swollen inner lips and groaned with need. Peter had a gift for delicate touches, light teasing, and it never failed to make her body shake with desire. He could wind her tight until her gears seemed to slip and finally burst.
The quizzing glass’s handle slipped over her clitoris, and Lucy’s hands grabbed at the headboard, trying to find purchase as she lifted and bucked her hips in pursuit of paroxysm.
“I knew you’d break on it, my little prisoner,” Peter whispered, his eyes fixed on the spot he was teasing. “Now I shall prepare you with it for my cock. I mean to have you, to split your virgin cunt, to breed you, and to keep you here in my castle always.”
Lucy wanted to pull at her own hair, to touch her breasts, anything to relieve the growing pressure. She needed him and was going to scream if she didn’t get more.
Peter, dear Peter, was beginning to know exactly what she required, and he moved the handle of that quizzing glass to her entrance. He rested the slight weight of it there, letting her feel what he had planned, then circled it around the very start of her channel.
Words wouldn’t come; the sensual onslaught was too delicious, and Lucy babbled as he pressed it the barest fraction inside. And then withdrew it.
He was toying with her; of course she wanted him to fill her, but when it felt so divine, she could only writhe on the bedclothes.
“What a pretty little thing you are, Miss Ninepence,” said Peter, gently working the handle the tiniest bit deeper. “I fear I might need to taste you again.”
He set his mouth to her clitoris, sucked, and she was gone, broken on bolts of sensation, liquid seeming to gush from within as his teasing and satisfaction combined to unleash a storm.
When Peter placed a hand on her belly, Lucy flinched, so overcome was she that the nerves in her exhausted body couldn’t take another touch after feeling so much.
“Are you well, dear?” he asked, the rasp in his voice no more and his eyes tender as he regarded her.
“So well,” she said faintly. “I think you have broken me. Temporarily.”
He flung his quizzing glass aside and lay down next to her, allowing her to swim to the surface again and rejoin the living.
“That was lovely.”
“I’ve been studying,” he said, nuzzling a golden curl.
This was just as heavenly, merely lying companionably beside her husband and feeling touches that could only be described as loving.
“What else have you been studying, duke?” she asked, turning to him and running her hand through his hair.
“Well, I encountered something most curious in a positions manual.”
That sounded promising. Lucy tried to hide her delight, but her breathy voice belied her excitement.
“And what did it show?”
“You might be shocked, but there is a way to couple in a rather barnyard fashion.”
***
“Peter, oh, please,” Lucy wailed as her husband mounted her from behind and pulled her back by the hips onto his cock. “That place!”
“That’s right, take it,” said Peter, thrusting with newfound confidence. Confidence that had Lucy arching her back as he filled her so well.
His cock? He had plenty enough to share with her, and his shaft had found some spot inside that made the arches of her feet contract at the sensation.
“Are you bearing down on me?” he asked, working her harder. “We’ve talked about this, Lucy, dearest. There’s no keeping me out of my wife’s cunny. You’re going to let me in so I can fill it. You want that?”
Her cheek hit the mattress, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Peter had been studying alongside her, and the results were rendering her nearly insensible as he used her body for their mutual delight.
“Peter, oh,” she moaned when he set a hand to her clitoris.
Where had he discovered that most diverting trick? Had he been reading without her? The idea of Peter devouring books for the sake of her pleasure set off the first tremors of her crisis.
“Ahh, Lucy, you’ll unman me yet again,” said her husband, laughing at how easily she drew forth his seed despite their games to train his cock. It was gratifying, really, to know that his desire broke his bonds of control. And left her filled with his spend.
“I love to see you vanquished, duke,” she said, rocking back to meet his thrusts with a clap. “And to feel your spend anointing my womb. My cunny. The tops of my thighs as it runs—”
She sent her squeal into the plush mattress as she reached climax, her body moving independently of all thoughts, and spine bowed by the feeling of being filled so well as Peter also stroked her nub.
When she felt her husband push his cock through the mess he’d made of her cunny, Lucy cried out again, reveling in the sensation of his seed thrust deep.
As Peter withdrew his cock from her clasp, she moved to collapse on the bed, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and let bliss wash over her confused dreams.
But he halted her movements, leaving her on her knees in that most undignified, most barnyard position.
“I do love to see that,” he muttered, trailing a finger over where his spend had escaped, then pushing it back into her clasp. “Where is my quizzing glass so I might see it more clearly?”
She had made a monster. And had no regrets.