Chapter 28
Alfred
Iam stunned.
Of course, many stunning things have happened to me over the past twenty-four hours. But for some reason being left with my cock inflamed, my desire at full force, and no way to slake my lust feels like the final straw.
It never occurred to me that she could take her pleasure from me in such a manner and then leave.
Groaning, I consider finishing myself, but even after all that has happened I still have an aversion to it. I could perform the act, but I don’t want it. Without Annabelle it feels wrong.
But it is nearly painful how erect I am as I do up the placket of my trousers. I move to stand, my erection not at all abated. I pray that that I do not encounter any servants in the hall. I need to find Annabelle.
I search for her, my erection persisting along with my desire. In truth, I am very uncomfortable. In desperation, I consider making myself come in my trousers as I used to do, but once more—perhaps it is her prohibition against doing it—I dismiss this option.
Finally, I push open the study door to find her there. She is looking over some very large ledgers.
“Oh, Mr. Saintsbury,” she says. “Is there something you want with me?”
I come up to her desk.
“I want relief,” I say, my words and tone harsher than I intended. “I am in agony.”
“Why don’t you take yourself in hand then?”
“You cannot leave me in such a state.”
“I can do whatever I want,” she says. “For all intents and purposes, Alfred, I am your lord and master. And if I want to leave you with a raging cockstand in my breakfast room after I have ridden you and take my pleasure from you, then that is what I will do.”
“You really mean to leave me like this.”
“The sensation will abate,” she says. “And after all, I will not make you wait forever. Sit. We have more to discuss.”
I grit my teeth, but obey.
“What more do we have to discuss?”
“For the time being, you will not be seeing to the duties of your post. You must think of what you want to do with your days. I cannot be with you always.”
“What I want right now is to plunge inside of you and fill you with my seed.”
“You cannot only think with your cock, Alfred,” she scolds. A little shame washes over me at the words.
“I would not mind if you got with child.”
She only blinks in response.
It is how I feel. I like the idea of Annabelle fat with my babe. Everyone will soon know that I am hers and only hers—is it wrong that I want to mark her in the same way?
“You are being reckless,” she bites off. “And I have told you that such an outcome is unlikely.”
I shrug, but decide to drop the matter.
“I have worked all my life,” I snap. “I must admit that I do not object to a few weeks of leisure.”
“You will tire of leisure,” she says. “And it is unclear when you will be able to return to performing your duties. And I cannot stop my matters of business to entertain you for weeks on end.”
Her words are harsh. But that is Annabelle.
“I will think of what I would like to do. Does that content you on this question?”
I do not care particularly. Given that my whole life is now in tatters. But if it will get Annabelle to stop worrying, I will think about some occupation.
My cock is still hard and she looks very beautiful, untouchable, behind her desk.
“Fine,” she says, standing and moving from behind the desk. “There was something else that I wanted to show you.”
She takes a little key from her drawer and bends down.
Then she puts a small cache of books on the table.
“My books,” she says. “Of an erotic variety. You may read them if you like.”
My hands move over the volumes. I open one and then another. Most are only text, but there are some with pictures.
I open one and then another. I linger on one in which a woman fucks a man in a verdant garden. I want to look away but can’t. When I finally force myself to flip the page, I am transfixed once more—by an image of a man tupping a woman against a wall.
“Why are you showing these to me?”
These images, so indecent, so provoking, do nothing to cool my ardor. I am harder than ever. She must know it.
“I thought you might like them. Since you’ve only had your little green book to entertain you. You might enjoy this reading material whilst you are here.”
I cannot look away from the image of the man and the woman against the wall.
“Would you want this?” I say, feeling very daring. “For me to take you like this?”
She looks down.
“It is a very pleasing position,” she says lightly. “But I doubt you are bold enough. It requires the man to—well, not be ashamed of his passions.”
I flush at her cold appraisal. She doesn’t think me capable.
“Anyway, enjoy them at any time.” She stands. “I must go now. I have letters to write.”
She steps towards the door.
The blood pounds in my head.
But I doubt you are bold enough.
Trying not to think, I follow her.
I reach her right before she gains the door.
I press her against the wall. She gasps.
“I know what I was when I met you, Annabelle,” I say in her ear. “Unpracticed, untried, completely lost, and at your mercy. And I will always be at your mercy, my love, but I also will not deny my desires. Not when it comes to you.”
I am so hard and the front of my trousers pressing into her delectable ass—that she bared to me so beautifully last night when she rode me from behind—only makes me more so. I have her pinned to the wall now. She can’t move.
“Even if it is again my will?”
“No, Annabelle,” I say in her ear. “Because I know how to make you beg for it.”
I reach under her skirts. I bring my fingers to her clit, the place that she did not let me touch in the breakfast room when she rode me.
She struggles away from me, but I hold her still—and it is not lost on me that her movements of resistance are half-hearted.
I begin to play with her gently. Soon she is panting, wet and glorious on my fingers, but I do not let her come.
I stroke my fingers in and out of her, playing with her delicious wetness.
“I am going to take you against this wall right here and right now.”
With shaking fingers, I undo the placket of my trousers once more and bring the head of my cock to her entrance.
“Let me inside of you. Give me what I want, Annabelle,” I declare, hot and needy in her ear. I am not sure what has come over me except that I feel irate, maddened, incensed.
“No,” she says. “You may not.”
I push the head of my cock against her harder, still not entering her, and she gasps. Her hot cunt hungrily pulses on my cock. Her body makes it clear that she wants this too. I want to plunge myself into her so badly and I know I will come almost instantly. But I need her assent.
“You want this, Annabelle,” I say. “I can feel it.”
I give another swipe of her entrance with the engorged head of my cock and she whimpers against the wall.
“Do you need to hear me say it? How much I need you? How much I need your perfect pussy? That I need no other purpose in my life than filling this little cunt?”
She lets out a moan so visceral that I nearly come right there.
But then ever so slightly she tilts her hips back so that I enter her an inch.
That is all the agreement I need. I am fully inside of her in an instant, thrusting in and out of her roughly as she cries out.
It lasts no longer than thirty seconds. I come, shuddering violently. And she does the same, rapidly, as if she had not come in the breakfast room fifteen minutes ago.
The release is cleansing. A complete relief. White hot pleasure followed by sweet oblivion.
And then a cold terror descends on me.
It occurs to me that I was a beast. I realize that the only assent she gave me was that small motion of her hips.
I draw back suddenly, terrified that I have violated her, that I have forced her against her will.
“Annabelle,” I croak. "I—I am—"
But I find I cannot speak.