Punishing His Ward (26 page)

"You lied, wife."

******

Irene closed her eyes as the heat rose
in her face at her husband’s self-satisfied tone.  When she'd
come into Hugh's study this morning, this was the last thing she
had expected - or she would have locked the door behind her!
 And at the same time, the possibility of being caught did,
indeed, make this entire encounter even more exciting. It felt as
though her pulse was pounding through her veins, her anxiety adding
to the burning desire that he had kindled in her.  Her skin
was buzzing with Hugh's touch, her nipples aching for more
attention from his mouth and fingers, and the wetness between the
folds of her womanhood was increasing with every
second. 

She moaned as she felt Hugh's fingers
part those folds, his hot breath coming a moment before his tongue
slid up the center and flicked against the little pleasure nub at
the apex.  Irene knew that, in all propriety, she should
resist further, she should at the very least close her dress back
over her breasts, but she didn't.  Instead she just moaned and
threaded her fingers through her husband's hair as he lapped at the
cream his ministrations had produced.  

The chair behind him scraped on the
floor as he scooted even closer, and Irene realized that Hugh had
seated himself comfortably so that he could attend to her at his
leisure.  She knew that her husband sometimes had desires that
were nothing like she'd been prepared for, and she had to wonder if
this was one of them... had Hugh sat in his study, wanting the
chance to lay her out across his desk like this and use his mouth
on her sensitive folds?  It didn't seem at all unbelievable.
 

It felt like he was peeling back the
petals of her body, taking his time as he nibbled each one and drew
his tongue along each crevice.  The sensations made her body
tighten and quiver, but they weren't enough to bring her to the
ultimate pleasure... no, he was teasing her, taunting her with his
mouth, almost mocking her for her claim that he hadn't made her
wet.  

"Hugh, please," she begged, gasping as
his tongue actually felt like it slid inside of her.  Her head
thrashed back and forth on the desk, her hips moving up and down as
she tried to force Hugh's head into the position she wanted.
 Needed.  The pressure was building up inside of her and
it had nowhere to go.  

"Are you wet, Irene?"

"Yes!"

As if in reward for her honesty, his
tongue slid back inside of her and out of her again, the same way
his fingers or his rod might and Irene bucked and moaned.  Her
legs tightened over his shoulders, trying to draw him further into
her body, needing him desperately.

"Do you want to cum, Irene?"

"Yes, Hugh, please, I want to cum," she
begged, forgetting in her need to keep her voice down.  Her
movements were causing her breasts to jiggle, the nipples rubbing
against the fabric of her chemise which felt rough and abrasive
where it had been wetted by his mouth.  The throbbing of those
tender buds seemed to be pulsing in time with the needy clenches of
her core.  "Make me cum, please Hugh."

His tongue circled her clitoris,
brushing against it, and Irene's hips jerked as she writhed with
the ecstatic sensation.  The pressure inside of her seemed to
surge, but didn't break, as he dipped back down into her slit
before coming back up to tease the swollen bud again.  Irene
tried to leverage herself to press the sensitive spot more firmly
against her husband's tongue, but it just circled and swept away
again. The teasing was driving her out of her mind.

"OH!  Hugh
please!
"

"Do you want me to fuck you,
Irene?"

Irene moaned, the crude word making her
shudder even as a surge of anticipation made her tighten.
 He'd heightened her passionate need to the point where she
felt rather wild with it.

"Hugh, please..."

"Say it, Irene."

She opened her eyes as her legs were
lowered and Hugh stood up.  The hungry look he gave her as he
began to unlace the front of his trousers left her no doubt that he
was just as aroused as she was.  The position he’d left her in
wasn’t entirely comfortable, but she could see how it affected
him.

Something new, something wicked,
unfurled inside of her. She’d seen this look on his face before,
but she’d never thought to use it. Now she wanted to make him feel
as out of control as she did.  Irene licked her lips, finding
that Hugh's gaze suddenly locked onto her mouth when she did
so. 

"Please Hugh," she whispered, bringing
her hands up to her breasts, which were absolutely aching. It felt
amazing.  She ran her fingertips over the mounds, her back
bowing a bit as the soft touch teased her nipples. Hugh’s eyes
flared with passion and she squeezed her breasts, watching him
watch her.  "Please..."

"Irene..."  His voice sounded
suddenly ragged, and she could tell that he had frozen in place.
 It was as if a match had been struck inside of her head,
igniting her, emboldening her.  Irene did something she’d
never thought of before; she released one breast and moved her hand
over the soft fabric of her chemise and the bunched skirts, down to
her mound, and pressed her finger right against where she ached the
most. It felt almost as good as when Hugh touched her there.
 

"Hugh...” Irene moaned, sliding her
fingers over the wet flesh. “Please..."

"Dammit Irene..."  Her husband's
voice grated, a violent movement snatched her hand away, holding
her wrist in his long fingers, and suddenly his rod was pressing
against her, pressing into her. 

For the first time, she'd managed to
elude what he wanted in favor of what she wanted, by behaving like
a complete wanton.  It was empowering.  Erotic.  And
the rewards were oh so wonderful.  Not that she had any
particularly strong feelings against saying ‘fuck,’ but denying him
had been wonderful, teasing him even more so and this...

Irene gasped as Hugh thrust hard and
deep, splitting her open quite suddenly.  As well lubricated
as her channel was, it was still a shock for those tight muscles to
be so forcibly pushed aside as his rock hard length was buried
inside of her.  He hooked his arms under her legs, bringing
them up so that he could pull her into his thrusts, taking her more
deeply.

It felt like he was filling her
completely, harder and thicker than ever before, and Irene gripped
the edges of the desk, next to her hips, as he began to pound in
and out of her. Every time he used his arms to leverage her body
into his, she groaned from the incredible sensation.  His
thrusts were wild, as if he was out of control, and the raw,
animalistic passion that she saw on his face was as frightening as
it was exciting. 

Crying out his name, Irene's body bowed
and ached as he took her.  The rough passion consumed her, the
friction of his fast, deep thrusts making it feel as though she was
burning inside and out.  The pressure that had built up inside
of her swelled and pulsed until she thought she might go mad from
it.

“Dammit Irene… Come for me… I want you
to scream my name…”

And then Hugh leaned forward, his body
pressing against her clitoris as he rocked against her, and Irene's
body was engulfed in flames.  The ecstasy burgeoned outwards,
from a singular point deep inside of her, and filled her
completely.  She screamed her passion, not a single thought
spared for the staff which might be passing by the room at any
time.  

Hugh's hands gripped her hips, pulling
her even more firmly against him as his breathing grew more ragged.
 Bent nearly in half, her legs splayed and held tightly by his
arms, Irene had no defense from the waves of pleasure that
continued to swell and surge through her to the point of becoming
almost painful in their intensity.  She sobbed his name again,
pleading with him to slow, to stop, to give her a moment to
recover... but her pleas only seemed to increase his
passion.

Irene couldn't even let go of the desk
to try and use her hands to slow him, his thrusts were so rough, so
strong, that she was hanging on for dear life, her fingers locked
around the wood.  She screamed, high and piercing, as he
seemed to grow even larger inside of her and the burning, tingling
rapture become too much to bear.  Her womb contracted and she
writhed, her breasts jiggling, and her body squeezing him tightly
over and over again.

Tears leaked down her cheeks as the
hardness inside of her became completely unyielding, and then Hugh
bellowed his own triumphant ecstasy.  Irene gasped for air as
her husband rocked against her, the hard rod inside of her pulsing
as he released his seed deeply within her.  She could feel
every spurt, every throb of his member, and she clenched around it,
causing him to groan and close his eyes. Hugh’s head tilted back as
he filled her, his body slowly relaxing. Then his head fell forward
again and the rest of his body followed it, leaning forward to rest
his head on her breasts as the last of his climax shuddered through
him.  

"Mmmm...."  Hugh rubbed his head
against her breasts, making Irene gasp and clench around him again.
 Every inch of her body felt exquisitely sensitive in the
aftermath of her orgasms. Unwrapping her grip from around the edge
of the desk, Irene winced a bit as she flexed sore fingers and
reached up to clasp her husband to her.  Raising his head at
her touch, he gave her an inquisitive look.  "And where did
all that come from, wife? Have you been touching yourself when I’m
not around?"

She blushed hotly.  Now that she
was coming down from the heights of pleasure, her behavior seemed
inexplicable and rather shocking.  Although, she still had to
admit Hugh's response to it had been very satisfying.  "No,
I’ve never done anything like that before. I'm not sure... I
think... I don't know."

"Well it was delightful," he said,
pulling back and pulling her with him as he sat down on his chair,
her legs straddling his and her breasts directly in front of his
face. Kissing her nipples, one after the other, Hugh grinned at
her, looking nothing at all like the golden angel he sometimes
resembled and much more like a self-satisfied and dangerous rake.
 "Anytime the notion takes you again, feel free to run with
it."

He pulled her lips down, kissing her
deeply, their bodies still joined together. When he finally
released her, Irene began to squirm away from him as she remembered
that the door was unlocked and the servants might come in at any
time. Especially now that there were no noises coming from behind
the closed door.

Blushing deeply, although more than a
little pleased and quite a bit emboldened by Hugh's obvious
appreciation of her wanton behavior, Irene accepted his help in
setting herself to rights.  Sticky seed seeped down her inner
thighs and onto the tops of her stockings, which Hugh wouldn’t let
her clean up.

“I like knowing that it’s there,” he
murmured, pulling her skirts down over her hips and kissing her
again to stifle her protest.

Sighing, Irene decided to let him have
his way for the moment. After all, as soon as she was alone she
could wipe the uncomfortable mess away. And there was something
strangely titillating about having his seed decorating her inner
thighs, with no one the wiser. Hugh helped to straighten her
rumpled skirts and hindered more than helped to button up her
dress.  He chuckled over the state of her hair, which caused
her to scold him.  He stopped her with a kiss, and was still
kissing her when a knock came on the door.

Immediately, Irene pushed him away as
her face flamed. Her hands flew to her hair, hastily pulling the
rest of the pins out and pushing it into the semblance of a bun, so
that at least it wasn’t a completely mess.  The look her
husband gave her was decidedly amused and she scowled at
him. 

"Yes?" Hugh said after a moment, even
though Irene hadn’t quite finished fixing herself up yet. She
kicked his ankle and he wagged a finger at her.

The door opened to reveal their butler,
Marling.  He looked at them with a blank expression, not even
blinking.  The lack of reaction didn't stop Irene from feeling
incredibly embarrassed, knowing that she didn’t look the way she
should and that it was very possible Marling knew perfectly well
what had been happening in here.  

"Lord Braithwhyte is here to see you,
my Lord."

"Thank you, Marling.  You may put
him in the library, I'll speak with him in there."  Reaching
out, Hugh caught Irene's hand before she could leave and pulled her
to him for another thorough kiss. 

Beet red and yet glowing from within,
Irene retreated from the study a few minutes later, avoiding the
entrance to the library.

******

Standing outside the stylish townhouse,
Irene gathered her courage.  After a few days to think things
over, she had come to a rather lowering conclusion: she needed to
apologize.  In fact, she'd meant to be at this house earlier
in the morning, when it was more likely that Lady Grace would be
home, but then her interlude in Hugh's study had distracted her as
well as necessitating a change of her underskirts and a redoing of
her toilette. 

She hoped that Lady Grace would be
at-home, and hopefully not entertaining a large number of guests.
 If Irene's mother heard that Irene had visited the scandalous
Viscountess... well Irene didn't like to think how her mother would
react.  Although being Hugh's wife offered her quite a bit of
protection, especially as her mother was so pleased by her
daughter's current position in Society, she wouldn't be forgiving
of anything that might endanger that position.