Bon Voyage

The rhythmic rocking of the carriage was soothing, and soon became a predictable pattern, perhaps due to an out of round wheel, or mayhap a gimp leg on one of the horses, or perhaps an uneven distribution of luggage overhead and beneath.

Rain pricked at the hard exterior, the thick glass window on the door and parallel side of the carriage. This and the clop clop of the horses' hooves offered a hypnotic chant that left Hannah's head nodding against the corner she huddled in beneath her cloak. As she fell into a deeper sleep, however briefly, her head would snap back and crack against the wall, jarring her awake momentarily.

The Duke of Lancashire watched on in amusement the sleepy young woman struggle to maintain her dignity as she succumbed to the onslaught of her exhaustion. She fought valiantly to stay awake, and the Duke found the whole situation surprisingly erotic. He wondered what she would do if he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her pouty lips.

Probably deliver a resounding slap to his cheek, he chuckled to himself.

The lass was American, which was a pity for a number of reasons. Firstly, she was on her way back to the states, which was how he had been coerced into the position of nursemaid. Secondly, she had the typical American woman independent streak, diminishing her elfin beauty. A woman should be protected, cared for. She should not be galavanting alone in strange countries.

The world was full of unsavory characters.

He licked his lips and leaned forward slowly, his blue eyes locked on her mouth. As he continued to edge closer and closer, he could hear the faint puffs of her breath inhaling and exhaling as she slept.

He had to have her. Taste her. Feel her curves beneath his hardness, feel her tremble, arch beneath him. feel her velvet, tight wetness surround his throbbing hard cock.

But now was not the time. He leaned back, denying himself of the gratification so close at hand. Patience, he reminded himself, as he adjusted his hardness beneath his trews, is a virtue.

Shortly thereafter the carriage came to a halt, and Michael peered out the window to see the familiarly lighted windows of the Inn he owned south of Herbshire.

Now when he leaned over it was not to steal a kiss, like an overanxious school boy, no. It was to wake the child woman, help her collect her things in her groggy state, and help her down the carriage steps.

Even through the layered cloak and gown she wore, Michael could feel the heat of her body, and just touching her served as a powerful aphrodisiac. He closed his eyes briefly and leaned ever so slightly forward to breathe in the scent of her hair, her body.

She smelled like honey. And he was quite sure she would taste like honey as well.

Hannah had been introduced to him at an end of summer gala put on by the Fauntroys of Wilshire. When she learned he was the Michael Westford, Duke of Lancashire, owner of the New World shipping line she batted her long black lashes at him, her green eyes doelike with curiosity. She explained how she needed passage back to the states, but her funds had run low.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance?" He had narrowed his eyes and studied her knowingly, at which time she struggled to maintain eye contact, losing the battle nearly immediately.

"I would do anything to get home," she said breathlessly, studying the knot of a tie at his neck.

"Anything?" He had lifted her face to him with a finger placed gently under her chin. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her cheeks glowed cranberry with her embarrassment, yet she persevered.

"Anything," she whispered.

"Verra well," was his only reply.

So now, it was nearly time for... anything. He steered her through the smokey crowded dining and bar area, directing her to the back stairwell that ran along the back wall. They would be dining alone, in the suite of rooms reserved for his personal use only. As his arm came about her waist he felt her body shudder and he smiled.

"I gave word when I reserved the night that a bath would be required. The tub should be in the lounge, through that door," Michael said, removing his outer clothing. Hannah remained immobile in the center of the room, drinking in the decor, the gold filigree details.

"I..."

He smiled and waited for her to finish her thought, and when she didn't, he spoke softly. "Hannah, there's nothing to fear. I've assured you, there's nothing to fear, and now, you know what to expect. No harm will come to you, little one, only pleasure."

"Your Grace..." She bowed her head and struggled with the ties of her emerald green velvet cloak. One after the other became knotted as she fumbled blindly with her task.

"Would you like me to help you?"

She nodded, never looking up. He noticed a single tear trickle down her left cheek, now pale, even in the flickering shadow of the fire burning brightly across the room.

After laying his coat on a chair he walked over to the young woman and unknotted the ties, slowly, deliberately, keenly aware of her unwavering gaze that never left his fingers.

When he finished he raised his cupped hand to her chin and tilted her face upwards. He caught her eyes and held them with his own gaze, then gently brushed a thumb over her lower trembling lip.

She closed her eyes and he followed like, moving closer, closer, closer, until his lips caressed hers, to and fro, until she succumbed and parted her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in and claim her in their first kiss.

He had wanted to do this since she first alighted into the carriage yesterday morning. She had smelled of roses, and her face was bright with the excitement of returning home. They exchanged niceties, small talk, and eventually took turns dozing and looking out the window. It was only after the first leg of the journey was over, they had supped and watered the horses, that the Duke approached Hannah with her requirements regarding their bargain.

"We'll be taking a rest tomorrow evening only, midpoint of the journey to Port. I extend my sincerest regrets for any discomfort you encounter, having to sleep here this evening," he began slowly, watching her facial expressions. She appeared nonplussed, so he continued, confident she was not one of these fainting, highbred women who required extensive pampering. Faint hearted would not do when satiating his appetite for lust.

"Once we reach my Inn, we'll dine and bathe and then.. uh, shall I delicately phrase it for you, little one?"

"Just speak it, my Lord Duke."

He took pause, smiling with the melody of his title flowing from her lips.

"Very well, Hannah. We shall retire to bed for the evening."

She sighed as if with relief.

"But we will not be sleeping," he added after a great pause for effect.

It was with these words the young woman began clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. Michael leaned over and covered them with his own, ceasing the fidgeting.

She now stood in the center of the room, staring at him, her hands clasping and unclasping before her. Slowly he grasped her right hand, and led her to the adjoining room where the tub of hot scalding water sat before another roaring fire.

"Bathe, Hannah."

Her glance flew from tub to him and back to the tub again as her hands came to her throat and she began unfastening the catches. As her hands moved with grace down the line of buttons holding the shirt together Michael came to stand before her. His hands snaked around her waist to unfasten the clip in the back holding the skirt in place.

That fell to the floor in a deep cranberry heap, leaving Hannah standing in slips and her opened blouse and corset.

His fingers came up and deftly he unfastened the stays, then tugged gently at her blouse and underclothing.

She stood there immobile, until finally there was not a stitch of clothing on her. Rather, it laid in a heap all around the pair.

He led her to the bath, helped her in and began washing her, first her hair. Then he took up a bar of rose soap and proceeded to wash her shoulders, her neck, her ears, in small gentle circular motions. Lifting a cup of water he rinsed her and then moved lower with the soap and clothe, washing her breasts carefully, kneading them with both hands.

Hannah swallowed thickly and sighed, suppressing a soft moan. His hands moved lower, over her ribs, down over her belly, probing her navel, then lower, to the peach fuzz covered mound. As his finger traced the cleft between the two thick outer lips, Hannah cried out and arched her hips. Michael chuckled, pleased with her response.

He slid one finger inside her, her silky juices different from that of the surrounding water. Her sex was hot, tight, wet. He wanted more, but with great reluctance, he removed his hand and rose from the tub.

"Finish washing yourself, but do not pleasure yourself, do you understand?"

She nodded, a blank look marring her sweet face. Moments later he returned, with a leather collar and silver chain attached. "Stand, my pet."

When she was standing he moved away to sit on the sofa and watch. As she raised her arms to fasten the collar behind her neck her breasts protruded and perked up. Michael smiled and stood up again, excusing himself for a moment. When he returned he produced two clips, and proceeded to clip her nipples. She cried out on the first one and tried to pull away, but Michael drew an arm around her waist and held her close as he fastened the other clamp. He walked back to the sofa and sat down.

"Beautiful. Now come to me, pet."

"Yes, your Grace."

"Tonight, pet, you may call me Sir, or my lord. You may relase the title."

"Thank you, your Gr- my lord," she said in a trembling voice.

"Take off my boots, little one."

"Yes, Sir." She struggled, but eventually took off the worn leather boots.

"Next, me trews," he waited to see what she would do.

"Sir, would you please stand so that I might remove your clothing?" Her words were forced, and she would not look him in the eyes. Michael saw and sensed a slight change.

He stood up and as she knelt before him he placed his hands on her head, guiding her closer to his hardened cock.

"I can't do this!" She jumped up and ripped the clips off her nipples and moved to storm out of the room, but he caught her hair and held her in place.

"We made a deal."

"This is insane. I'm not going to be party to this, your Grace!" She stomped her foot and stared straight into his blue eyes, her green gaze smoldering with anger.

"We made a deal."

"I can't do this."

"Yes, Hannah, you can." He took her hand and led her to the sofa. "You can because you want to sail home in three days. You can because I've already secured your passage. You can because I am a man with desires and we made a deal."

She stood before him, unsure what to do. He made up her mind for her, twirling her body and deftly taking her across his lap, face down, as he sat on the sofa.

Without warning his hand came sailing downward, making stinging contact with the round mounds of her derriere. She screamed, and he warned he softly that for every scream she would receive one more slap.

He continued to "thwack" her curved ass, until it glowed red with the outline of his hand print white against her skin.

He slipped a finger down her crack, toward her pussy and confirmed his suspicions by slipping a finger inside her tight hole. Sopping wet. He slipped another finger in, stretching, fingering, fucking her slowly. Her hips began rising and falling, matching his rhythm. A third finger, this from his left hand, slipped inside, and he rolled this one upward, finding that spot that tightened and felt as though it was going to explode.

He pulled it out and trailed his finger along her crack, to the rosebud of her ass. Slowly he circled the puckered skin, eventually pushing his finger gently in. As he entered, Hannah realized what he'd done and tried to get up. As she straightened her body and screamed out "No!" he automatically raised his hand and brought it down in a resounding crack.

"That word is not in your vocabulary, pet."

"But-"

*Crack!* came another slap. And immediately following that he plunged the finger still in her wet cunt hard into her tight ass, the hole closing up around his knuckle.

Slowly he began to pump in and out, slowly, gently, as he slipped his other hands forefinger into her pussy. As if playing a musical instrument, Michael pumped in and out of her holes, until her body tightened and she began fucking his hands. Just as he felt her pussy begin to contract, he pulled his hand out and stood her up, bending her over the couch as he stepped behind her.

With one stroke his cock was embedded up to his balls in her pussy. He pounded slowly and deliberately, making sure she felt each thrust.

As he fucked her, he whispered in her ear, "You are mine. Say it. say you are mine, pet."

"I am yours."

She said it, "I am yours." And as she did so the tremors of her first orgasm built and spilled out through her entire body. Likewise, he exploded deep inside of her, his cum filling her completely.

Finally they ceased rocking, and Michael pulled out of Hannah, running his hands smoothly over the small of her back.

She stood up and looked into his eyes and smiled.

"Well. That should pay for the first night of the journey, wouldn't you think, My Lord?"