LORD BRAMBLE'S REHABILITATION (10 page)

Instead they withdrew leaving her quaking with need and totally breathless, saturated with a yearning whose depths she'd never experienced before.

"Please," she begged.

"Please?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Please Sir. Please," she whimpered, burning in her embarrassment as she bent further and pushed her crotch out towards him, her feet shuffling apart to leave her fully exposed, her body shaking with the need to have him caress her.

"I think you need more than a finger or two," he told her, using his thumb to delicately draw her sliming labia apart, the better to expose the bright flesh that formed the mouth of her cunny, inflamed flesh dampened by the creamy juice that slowly trickled from it, the bending of her body allowing it to pool about the base of her straining prepuce.

"Anything!" she gasped, her eyes widening and her breath shortening.

He stood and began undressing, starting with his shirt and watching her stare at him as he bared his chest. Pale skin was decorated with dark hair, and over a dozen scars that each marked the explosive release of shrapnel. She straightened to gaze at it, trying to imagine the pain he must have undergone. He dropped his trousers and his thighs were similarly decorated, the larger scars still showing the marks left by the sutures using to close and hold his flesh together.

"Get on the bed," he told her, pulling his underpants down and letting her see his erection jutting from the taper of his loins, a large sack holding his precious balls, his circumcision allowing her to fully see the domed head.

She swallowed, marvelling at its thickness and length, then hurriedly turned to do as he asked, bending over the end and parting her legs in readiness to have him take her from behind.

"Not like that," he told her, admiring her nonetheless, understanding why young Rolland was drawn to her given her tight little bottom and the ease with which the small cheeks parted and gave up their secret. Were he so inclined, her anus looked invitingly pink and small, a tight passage that could no doubt inflame his organ as it slid through that corrugated ring to embed itself in her rectum.

"You want me on my back?" she gasped, burning with the thought of it.

"Over the bolster," he agreed, going over to her to help pull her onto the bed and positioned with her buttocks on the bolster of pillows, slender legs spread out at the knee, her sweet pink sex laying invitingly between them, her cleft breeched.

He could have sat and admired such a pink sex for hours, but there was an urgency that needed calming first, and so with no further preamble he drew himself over her, gathering her wrists in one hand to imprison them beside her head before, with the dexterousness of someone who had visited too many brothels, he placed himself at her moist and ready channel, and thrust.

She cried out, eyes and mouth creating large ovals as he speared her hot and clinging passage with a single thrust. And then he held himself inside of her, using his free hand to stroke her flank and marvel at the smoothness and firmness of her skin before seeking to capture a little teat standing from the flattened mounds of her breasts, and pinch the little bud.

"Sir!" she gasped, staring at his rugged face while her body accepted his claim upon her.

He smiled and commenced fucking the girl, grunting with the effort it took to press into her tight purse, his breath quickening with the heat that invaded him, and had him swelling within her clenches.

"You deserve the, and more," he panted, finding a steady rhythm that wouldn't tax his control.

"Yes," she agreed between hot and rapid breaths, her knees rising to either side of him while her eyes begged him to complete the act and bring her to her orgasm.

"I should spank you every day," he reflected, pushing his way back into her wet but tight cunny to feel her heat radiate into his flesh once more. His hand descended from her breast to grip her hip and hold it still, allowing him to power still more vigorously into her hot and wet purse.

"Yes!" she gasped, begging him to do that, and as shamefully as possible. "I deserve it!" she agreed, the thought of it conspiring with his vigorous thrusts to bring her closer and closer to her release.

"A spanking, and then this!" he grunted, thrusting more powerfully than before, holding her down while he did so to watch her expression change.

She screamed through her orgasm, lurching and tossing beneath him, held by his hands and his groin, impaled upon his organ. It was a delight to watch, inflaming him to thrust still more vigorously into a cunt brought alive by her orgasm.

Suddenly the motions of her cunny about him touched a fuse and he was coming too, pulling urgently from her slick passage to have his seed flung across her pale body, from her small little teats down to her pubis, long trails of hot thick sperm.

John rose and sought out his underpants. Isabel lay as he left her, slender legs splayed apart, her vividly pink sex still apart, welcoming him should he wish to repeat the exercise. He was still there, looking at her, when she stirred and saw she was being watched.

"What?" she asked, her cheeks burning as she closed her legs and timidly sat up upon the bolster of her pillows.

"Just wondering if you're going to continue to be a brat or not," he admitted with a shrug, then turning to begin dressing.

"Perhaps I need short reminders," she murmured, blushing hotly as she made the admission. "Perhaps not so harsh or long, but a few, regularly," she suggested timidly, watching him with a pounding heart.

He considered and smiled. "You have an apology to make to your father and Sir Oswald. We'll then considered how to rehabilitate you," he agreed.