Pleasure and Purpose (11 page)

"Such a lovely cunt you have. It will look even prettier adorned as your nipples are." He took the third piece of jewelry and placed his thumb and forefinger on each side of her clitoris. She gave a small cry, her hips leaping but her hands staying in place as he'd ordered. Edward gently pinched her arousal between his finger and thumb and stroked it up and down, much as she'd have stroked his cock. Nessa moaned again, her thighs opening wider of their own volition. With his other hand he took the third piece of jewelry and slipped the V-shaped piece over her erect clit. The smooth metal pinched against her engorged flesh and sent a spasm of arousal through her. He took his hand away, yet the metal on her remained, mimicking the sensation his fingers had provided. The chains hanging from it caressed her clit while the gems dangled, tapping her labia gently and sending shivers through her.

Edward looked at her. "This, also, you will wear as you attend me tonight."

"Yes . . ." She swallowed, hard. "Yes, sir."

"And I have two more adornments for you, though they are not as pretty." He reached into the casket and pulled out something that clicked and clattered in his palm. Two sets of what looked like pearls, carved of ironwood, four on each strand. One set was thrice the size of the smaller, the beads of which were no larger than the end of her thumb. She could see no clasp to close the ends of the unusual pieces, and at any rate, neither was long enough to fit around her neck, or even a wrist.

"These are not meant to be worn on the outside," Edward said as though he'd read her mind.

With that, he put a hand beneath her legs and pushed the larger set of pearls inside her quim, slowly, one at time. The last pearl he left outside, tucked up against her opening, where the gem from the chain attached to her clitoris could tap against it. The other three shifted inside her, filled her, and pressed just behind her pubic bone with every motion. Edward waited until she had stilled herself once again, his hand on her hip. She looked at him, and his smile rewarded her.

"Your response is delightful," he assured her and held up the second set of pearls. She knew at once where he meant to put those and her body unconsciously tensed. Edward took one last thing from the casket. A small vial, which he uncorked and tipped over his fingers. It released a thick fluid smelling pleasantly of herb. Corking it again, Edward set it aside and rubbed the fluid quickly over the second set of beads.

"Turn around. Hold the desk," he ordered, and though each movement made dozens of tremors run through her, Nessa obeyed.

Edward ran a slick finger down the seam of her buttocks and pressed lightly against her back entrance. The pressure urged a moan from her. With a pleased sound, Edward pushed her flesh. Nessa arched her back in response, lifting her rear. She felt the cool touch of the beads at her back passage and tensed.

"Open for me."

She tried, but when the wooden pearl once more pressed against her, she tensed. This time, Edward reached around and tugged gently on the chain hanging from her clit. A tug, a press of the bead against her. Another tug, another press, until she was positively pushing her rear toward the intrusion.

One pearl slipped inside her, but aided by her arousal and whatever he'd used to lubricate it, she felt no pain, only a delirious pressure that echoed in every pleasure point on her body. Edward tugged the chain again, bringing her closer to climax but not letting her spill over, as he pushed the second bead inside her. Then the third, with the fourth left to press against her on the outside.

Thus filled, Nessa could only tremble and take deep breaths. Her body strained toward the climax so close, but mindful of what he'd said, that her orgasm would be a reward, she didn't seek to force it into happening.

After a moment or two, Edward stepped away. "I've work to do. You shall attend me as usual."

With that, he went to his desk chair and sat, pulling a ledger book toward him and lifting his quill from the inkpot.

Stunned, uncertain, Nessa didn't move until Edward looked up, and in an utterly bored voice, told her, "Get me some tea, Stillness."

She nodded, unable to speak, and stood. Her fingers had clutched the desk so hard they'd cramped, and she opened and closed them to ease the stiffness. She turned, the motion setting the gems to swaying and the beads inside her rolling a bit. She moaned. Edward looked up. "Now."

"Yes, sir."

She'd served naked many times, but never so decorated. It took her three steps to get to the back of his leather chair in front of the fire, and once there, she paused to grip the back, thinking she might fall, so deliciously torturous were the sensations running through her.

But Edward had ordered tea, and there could be no hesitating. Not even a swift repetition of the five principles helped much, but they did allow her to gather her breath and make the tea.

For the rest of the evening she served him that way. Every step was scrumptious agony, causing the jewelry to rub and pull and shift against her most sensitive spots, yet never allowing her the relief of orgasm. Edward seemed more fractious than ever before, needier, unable even to get up from his desk to fetch his own books or files when in the past he'd have done so without pause. Tonight, he put her to work harder than he'd ever done in the past, and her body screamed with delight during every moment of it. Her every sense heightened. Smell, sight, hearing, taste . . . but especially touch. Her entire body, from forehead to the tips of her toes, became as sensitive as her clit and nipples. The breeze created by her movements trailed tickling fingers over her belly, the seam of her buttocks, her nipples. The heat of the flames stoked the fire between her thighs. Every breath she took in brought greater sensation with it, until at last she could do nothing but shake and tremble and await release.

At last Edward got up from the chair and ordered her to attend him once more. "Face the desk and put your hands flat upon it."

She did at once, parting her legs without being told. His touch, one finger tracing her spine, made her whimper. When it reached the crease of her ass, her hips jumped.

"You've been a delightful Handmaiden tonight," he murmured. "You've done everything I asked, without complaint. I do believe it is time for your reward." Oh, she did adore this. The commands. The torture, the pleasure so intense it had become pain, the small pains that were a pleasure. She loved being told to serve, having the choice taken from her, being dominated in this way. She loved this. She loved him.

Nessa drew in a deep, sobbing breath. Edward put a hand on the back of her neck, holding her still while his other slipped round to toy with the gems dangling from her nipples. He tugged them gently, and her body jerked.

Edward slipped off first one, then the other, and the relief was so great and at the same time, so disappointing, she cried out. He massaged her nipples gently, tweaking them, and put the chains on the desk. He shifted behind her and she heard the rasp of his buttons being undone. She tensed, waiting, her heart thundering.

His hand still on the back of her neck, holding her still, Edward reached around to tug the chain on her clit. Nessa cried out again, hips pumping forward. Edward gave it another small tug before slipping it off her clit. Again, the release was so great she almost came right then and there. Both her passages convulsed on the beads inside her, and her clit, released from its binding, fluttered. Orgasm hovered, enormous, like a wave curled to strike the shore.

Edward put his hand to the bead resting against her labia, and he eased the second from inside her. She was making a series of shuddering, gasping cries at this point, unable to breathe without making a noise. The next bead slid from inside her, and she bucked her hips helplessly. By the time he slid the final bead from her quim, Nessa could no longer tell if she were climaxing or only riding one long wave of ecstasy that didn't seem to end. There were no dips, no valleys, only a series of higher and higher peaks. Edward shoved his cock inside her, fucking roughly, but she was so wet, so open, so ready, it only made her push back against him at once. Her hands slid on the polished wood as he thrust so hard he moved her entire body. He grunted, fingers pulling her hair again. Nessas cries eased as her climax dipped and softened. Only for a moment, however, as in the next she felt him tug the final adornment.

Edward fucked his prick inside her, hard, even as he pulled out the first bead. The dual sensation, of being filled and emptied at the same time, left her too breathless for even a scream. All she could do was breathe.

Her first climax had overwhelmed her, sent her tumbling. It had not yet ended when this new sensation sent her soaring again. A thrust, a tug, and as his thrust became faster, harder, pounding into her slick passage, he released the final bead and she came again, moaning and shivering.

Edward let out a shout and thrust once more, so hard he moved the desk and her hands slid again on the wood. His fingers released her hair and returned to the back of her neck. He pumped a bit, slowly, and then bent forward to kiss her shoulder blade. His shirt felt smooth on her bare skin, and she realized he'd done no more than open his trousers to take her. For some reason, this made her smile. Then laugh, the sound hoarse from her abused vocal chords, but recognizable.

He kissed her shoulder again and withdrew. She let out a murmur of protest. She wasn't sure she could move.

And then, she didn't have to, for Edward put an arm under her shoulders and one beneath her thighs, and he picked her up and carried her to bed, where he tucked her between clean, cool sheets, and she slept.

Cillian was calmer than Edward had seen him in a very long time. The Prince of Firth reclined on the chaise lounge, his shirt unlaced at the throat, his jacket tossed without ceremony into the corner. He'd unbound his hair and the autumn-leaf waves tumbled over his shoulders and gleamed in the light of the fire. He sighed, sounding so deeply content that Edward chuckled.

Cillian looked up. "I amuse you?"

Edward shook his head. "I'd never have thought to see the day when you, my lord, were worn out from playing cards."

"Not merely cards, dear one." Cillian's lips tipped. "Cards with Lady Larissa. That woman is a harpy."

Edward glanced through the open doors toward the next room, where Ladies Larissa, Marvina, and Sentinell laughed at the antics of Alaric and the other lords Cillian had brought with him.

"James and Persis are amusing them." Edward took a long drink from his mug of spiced hard cider. "And Larissa is laughing quite heartily at Alaric." Cillian sat up in his chair to follow Edward's gaze. "At least he seems contented in his role, which is more than I can say for you. When are you going to come back to me, Edward? I miss you."

"I haven't gone away, my lord."

Cillian sniffed. "You've known me for how long?"

"Six years in school. Five since then. Eleven total." Edward watched the activity in the other room as James and Persis acted out what he'd have guessed to be the Follies'

Uprising, based on the tablecloths they'd thrown over their heads.

"For Kedalya!" Cried Persis, tearing off the makeshift veil and miming stabbing a shocked-looking Alaric. "Rise, sisters, rise!"

This set Larissa and her companions into gales of silly giggles that made Cillian wince. He got up and went to the double pocket doors and slid them closed with a bang.

"Eleven years you have known me. One would imagine that after that time, you would adore me better." Cillian sank back onto the chaise, an arm thrown over the side to pillow his head.

Edward thought carefully before answering. Once he'd cared very much for the man before him. Once, they'd run like young wolves with nothing to stop them. He sipped cider while formulating his reply.

"You have my loyalty and my companionship, my lord prince." Cillian sighed and rolled his gaze toward Edward. "I used to have your love. Your boon companionship. We ravaged the streets and poetry houses. We were the envy of everyone. You and I and Alaric. Now my father pays you to play nursemaid to me, to keep his abomination of a son from embarrassing him the more."

"You still have my friendship, Cillian." Edward got up to pace in front of the fire. "Just because I don't go whoring with you—"

"You used to be right there with me," Cillian interrupted. "Every step. Every new venture."

"Every vice, you mean." Edward turned to look at him.

Cillian didn't pout. His eyes glittered. "Every
excitement.
Surely you remember that? The thrill of learning a new trick? Some new decadence to taste?" Edward remembered, though he wanted to forget. "That was a long time ago." Cillian got to his feet to stalk toward him and take the cup of cider from Edward's hand. He sipped before pushing it back to its place in Edwards palm.

"Not so long ago that you've forgotten, my dear one. I see it in your eyes when you attend me in the playroom. I see it there, now."

Edward knew better than to try to pretend otherwise. He'd never been able to hide anything from either one of them, Alaric or Cillian, his two best friends.

"I remember. Of course I do."

"Is that why you took a Handmaiden?"

Startled, Edward clattered his cup against the stone mantle. "No!" Cillian smiled. "Are you sure?"

Edward shook his head, though the memory of Stillness, her pretty nipples and quim glittering with jewels, would not leave him. "She's not a whore." Cillian raised one perfect brow. "I never said she was. But she is a Handmaiden, bound to give you what you desire for the purpose of giving you peace."

"Stillness has nothing to do with the pleasures you enjoy." Edward tossed back the rest of his cider and put the cup back on the table. From the other room, filtered laughter made him turn. "And you have Persis to frolic with. You don't need me." Cillian's brow remained raised. "Persis is my lover, Edward, not my friend. You and I were something bed partners could never be. I thought you knew that. It's the friendship I miss." Cillian paused, his voice dipping. "You could always make me laugh. Do you know that? Really laugh. You and Alaric were the only two who didn't treat me like my crown was something to be revered. You are the brother of my heart, Edward. What can I do to get that back?" Edward said nothing, his gut churning at Cillian's speech. He no longer doubted Cillian's sincerity. Yet he could do naught for it but answer with honesty.