Patience (32 page)

Weak and trembling with need, she got to her hands and knees. She swayed. Then she cried out as the spanks came again, sharp and pitiless on her burning bottom. Hot, stinging tears fell, but the more Matthew spanked her the more strongly her clitoris throbbed, until her bottom and her sex pulsed with an equal demand.

Grabbing her leash, Matthew pulled her up so that she was on her knees. Dazed with desire, she managed to look into his dark, plundering eyes. He was Pluto. He was her prince and her angel. He was Adam—and she was his Eve. As a shudder wracked her body, she groaned, low and long, in a desperate and wordless plea for release.

Matthew cupped her cheek, and his voice was like gravel. “Yes. Now you may.” And then he pulled her to the right with the leash. “Use my leg.”

Patience fairly leapt upon him. Sitting on her heels, she straddled his foot with her splayed knees. She hugged his thigh and thrust her hips. She gasped and panted, and ground her bulging clitoris against the smooth leather of his boot. Faster and faster she humped against him, beating the tortured little nub of flesh that held her release.

Matthew’s hand clenched in her hair, and she pressed her cheek to his thigh. “That’s it, Patience. Do it. Do it!”

Sucking in her breath, she hammered against him. Every muscle drew tight. Her cunt pulled and her womb lifted. And then she squeezed her eyes shut, and with a long and throaty cry, her clitoris ruptured, filling the entirety of her body with the hot and succulent nectar of submission.

Crying and convulsing with the sweetness of it, she ground against him until her rapture was spent. Then, too weak to stay upright, she slipped to the floor and onto her back. Through her tears, she looked up at Matthew as he moved to stand between her legs. The rug was rough on her sore bottom but she didn’t care, for he was staring down at her and furiously stroking his enflamed phallus. “To whom do you belong?” he demanded.

Patience’s heart thumped, as if too much blood had rushed into it. “To you.”

And with her knees splayed open and her tears falling, she watched him as he jerked a hot, wet splash of cum onto her palpitating clitoris and cunt.

She gasped and winced, but her knees drew back, revealing more of her virgin quim.

“Yes,” he groaned. And grunting hard, he milked thick ropes of cum over her swollen sex, abdomen and breasts.

Her clitoris pulsing beneath the hot blanket of his ejaculate, Patience shuddered and wept silent tears at the complete peace that filled her.

Matthew stared down at her, his breath coming fast. A dark glow still simmered in his eyes. “That’s my beauty.”

His endearment made her moan softly. She had no words.

Stepping beside her head, he crouched then tipped onto his knees. Sliding his hand into her hair, he lifted her and pushed his half-hard penis into her mouth. “Suck it,” he ordered softly.

Her nipples tightening and tingling at this new command, Patience obeyed. She sucked him hungrily, pulling and stroking his softened member deeply into her mouth. But when he reached between her legs and began rubbing her aching clitoris, her hips jerked back and she moaned her distress around his hardening flesh. It was too much—she couldn’t bear it. But he kept on, and she groaned as he pushed his semen-drenched fingers inside her. And as he withdrew and pushed in again and again, he plied her wounded clitoris continually with his thumb.

Her mouth full, she mewled and squirmed as she tried to convey her distress. But staring down at her, he only pressed his prick deeper and rubbed her harder. She sobbed and sucked as he worked her, forcing her exhausted nub to fill and stretch. And all the while, he regarded her with an expression that was both tender and uncompromising.

She wanted to close her legs. Her muscles shook to do so. But she didn’t. She forced them wider. For this was for his pleasure and she must endure whatever pleased him, gracefully and gratefully. Her heart pounded and her blood rushed as she gave herself up. And the moment she did, her distress faded and her desire reared.

Her hips lifted and her clitoris fattened. This was bliss. And this was who she was—this woman—with Matthew’s cock in her mouth and Matthew’s fingers in her cunt.

And as she wept hot tears of surrender, and drew ravenously upon his thrusting penis, she came. And as she came, he praised her and filled her mouth with a faint, watery ejaculate.

SONG OF SOLOMON 8:7

 

 

 

 

Shaking, Matthew rested on his heels. He stared down at the beautiful vision of Patience. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and a blushing glow tinted her high cheekbones. He’d worked her hard. But it had all been to her benefit, for he had seen the totality of her surrender in her eyes, observed it in her straining body, and felt it in the enthusiasm with which she gave of her wet, succulent mouth.

But he wanted more than her mouth.

Leaning forward, he stroked her bright curls back from her forehead. Her lashes fluttered, then she lifted her vivid eyes to him. Still sparkling with unshed tears, they were full of peaceful and submissive adoration.

His chest filled with a deep and primeval pride.
Soon.
Soon she would be incapable of refusing him anything. He would take her virginity, and he would take her hand. And most importantly, he would take her heart.

Yes, her heart was what he wanted most of all.

Reaching down, he clasped her hand. Drawing it to his lips, he kissed the soft, fragrant skin over her pulse. Her fingers gently cupped the side of his face. He looked at her—at the tenderness in her eyes, the softness of her expression—and something sharp and almost painful pierced his chest.

He stared down at her for a long while, carving the image of her into his mind. Then he pressed another kiss into her palm before drawing her hand from his face and laying it on her chest. “Stay,” he murmured.

She didn’t move as he got to his feet. Crossing to the hearth, he slipped his prick into his breeches then buttoned up. He used the jack to remove his riding boots, then he pulled off his socks and removed his shirt. Though Patience was still and quiet, he could feel her gaze as he drew a wooden chair before the hearth. He threw more wood upon the fire. Her eyes followed him as he collected her clothes, then draped them over the chair to dry.

Turning back to her, he crouched by her side and untied her leash. Then he scooped her up. As he stood, the smell of gardenias and sex wafted from her. She felt so soft and supple. The feel of her arms around him and her eyes upon him made his gut quiver and his heart beat a little faster.

He carried her into the foyer and up the wide stairs of Gwyn Hall. The storm was still battering the house. He thanked God for it. The longer it poured down, the longer he could keep her with him. The tall clock at the landing read twelve fifteen.

He carried her to the small bathing room and was gratified to see that, thanks to a brazier of coals, the copper tub was still steaming. He would have to put an extra pound note or two in the underbutler’s pocket. The man had seen to all of Matthew’s requests, and in short order.

He stood beside the tub. “Touch the water and tell me if it’s too hot.”

Patience extended one long leg and dipped her toes in the water. “It’s perfect.”

Matthew let her legs down, and then he watched her as she lowered herself into the tub. Though she drew in her breath as her bottom entered the water, her green eyes, normally so knowing and assessing, glowed with a calm docility. Once she was seated, she leaned against the high back of the tub with a long sigh. But she never shut her eyes to his regard.

His heart skipped as he moved to a small table that held a snifter and a decanter of brandy. Splashing some of the amber liquid into the glass, he handed it to Patience. As she sipped, he admired how her breasts floated in the water, her thick nipples just breaking the surface. His mouth watered and a prickling sensation moved through his cods. She had such beautiful breasts—breasts tipped with buds that flowered into magnificence with a spanking.

He met her steady gaze. “Your nipples crave punishment.”

Her chest lifted slightly at his words. “Yes.”

His blood quickened as he thought of her reddened bottom. “Your whole body craves punishment.”

Her moist lips parted. “Yes.”

His cock throbbed. “That’s very good.”

Patience handed him back the glass. “It pleases you?”

“Immeasurably.”

Tossing down the remaining brandy, he moved to the stool that had been placed at the head of the tub. Breathing the sweet smell of her hair, he reached around her for the soap and lathered it.

“Matthew?”

“Yes.”

“Have you always been like this?”

His prick stirred as he laid his hands upon her chest and began washing her. “Yes.”

She took another sip from the brandy. “But how did you know?”

“I didn’t at first. It took time for me to begin to make sense of the feelings and urges I had.” He pressed his fingers against the muscles of her neck and shoulders, drawing sighs from her. “But it all became much clearer to me the day I ripped the belt that was meant for me from my governess’s hand, pushed her over my school desk, and belted her bare bottom.”

Patience twisted around, her eyes wide. “Did you really?”

He almost smiled as he saw her nipples tighten. “Yes, I did. And if she hadn’t run off shrieking, I might have fucked her, because the whole thing made me incredibly hard.”

Patience’s eyes darkened, even as her lovely mouth turned down in the corners. “I think I feel jealous.”

Matthew’s cock throbbed. “Of what? The fact that I belted her, or that I would have fucked her? Neither of which I’ve done to you.”

She lowered her lovely eyes and seemed to be considering for a moment. “I’m not certain.” She looked at him, a quizzical frown creasing her brow. “Both, I think.”

He couldn’t resist a small smile. Her honesty was too lovely. “Don’t bother with jealousy. She couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers against her protuberant nipple. “As for the belt, it has its uses. But I require no implements to punish you properly.” He gave her distended bud a quick, hard pinch. Patience gasped and then shivered. He stared into her beautiful gaze. “And as for the fucking—well, that’s one control I agreed to let you keep, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Her green eyes looked dark and almost contrite. “You wanted to fuck me today.”

Yes, damn it!
“It would have been nice.”

“I’m sorry.”

Not half as sorry as I am.
Standing up, Matthew clasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I suppose I’ll survive. I’ve always preferred fellatio to fucking anyway.”
Until you.

Patience’s brows lifted. “You have? Why?”

“I don’t know.” He soaped his hands. “Trained early, I suppose.” Bending, he lathered her long, shapely legs.

“What do you mean, ‘trained early’?”

As he straightened, he noted that the master’s mark on her thigh was fading. The sight of it reminded him of the one on her bottom, which reminded him, yet again, of how incredibly beautiful her taut and reddened buttocks had looked as he’d spanked them. A dim throbbing started in his prick.

He stared into her curious gaze as he rubbed the soap all over her breasts, belly, and hips. “I always wake hungry. When I was a boy, the cook knew to have a tray sent to me early every morning. The same kitchen maid brought it every day. But the day came that she found me with my prick sticking straight out from beneath my nightshirt. Open your legs.”

Patience set her legs apart, and he ran his soapy hands over her soft folds.

“So,” he continued, “she quickly explained that she could help the situation. And that day, as I stood there with my biscuit in my hand, she fellated me nicely.” Matthew slipped his fingers over Patience’s clitoris and found it a little enlarged. Ignoring her indrawn breath, he lowered his gaze and gently scrubbed his soapy fingers through the red curls over her mount. How beautiful those bright curls were against her pale skin. How beautiful the moist, virgin quim just beneath. Christ, he could feel his cock beginning to swell. What had he been saying?
Ah, yes.
“Most every day thereafter,” he continued, “she would milk me while I breakfasted.”

“And who performs this daily service for you now?” she asked, her voice tight.

Matthew looked at her and found an angry, resentful frown twisting her brow. His heart pulsed strongly and a wave of something washed through him—something powerful yet tender. “No one does.” He stepped closer to her and stroked his hand along the soft outer curve of her breast. “Why? Do you want the job?” he asked gently. Her frown slowly faded, and she drew in a breath as he slid his other arm around her waist. He stared into her green gaze. “Because if you do, it’s yours. Of course”—he brushed his lips across her brow—“we ought to discuss what other services I will require of you, and what services I shall render in return.” He kissed her soft temple and felt her arms slip around him. His heart skipped a beat. “And then”—he kissed the delicate corner of her eye—“there should be some kind of formal”—her hand smoothed over his nape—“and binding”—he kissed her cheek—“agreement.” Her mouth opened beneath his, and he thrust his tongue possessively. His head spun as he tasted her and plundered her. God, she was so warm and sweet, and her lips clung to his so passionately. Would that a vicar still attended the tiny chapel behind the garden. He would drag her there now.

Patience moaned as he broke their kiss. He stepped back. He felt his knee begin to flex. But then he froze, for even as he was regarding her, a slow and bewildered frown was turning her brow. Jesus Christ, what was he doing? As her frown deepened and her head tilted, he straightened the infinitesimal bend of his knee. In the pursuit of Patience,
im
patience was his enemy.