Tuition Ch. 07

~ Kat ~

If there was ever a few moments in my life that I would wish committed to memory – to be able to draw upon in the hopefully long stretch of my life – this was one of a top ten that had all been borne from this house.

Our beginnings had been rough; though more so with Alice, Mary had been at loggerheads from day one with that one, but I too had been naïve in my assumption of her. But then, I had been naïve in a great deal before I stepped through the magnificent arched entrance, in my demure looking jeans and black shirt. How things so swiftly and irrevocably change with knowledge and enlightenment such as this.

As my tongue danced with Mary’s, I relished it all. She tasted of sweet mint, and of him, and the combination was heady. I settled one knee between hers as we knelt, my fingers drifting through her thick dark hair I gave my thanks. Not just for this night, but for every strict dictate, for every line she had drawn with her words that had led me here.

Our kisses softer now, I shifted, aiming to relieve the pain to the front of my thighs, only to wince as the skin at the back burned just to add to it. The evening was catching up with me, but I was damned if I was going to let it take me away from this. It was the sound of Bailey being gagged with cock that made us break apart and look curiously behind us. I could feel my jaw slacken. It seemed the cross could support the weight of a few people at least.

One gentleman had positioned themselves beneath her bound body and was driving a thick length of very white cock into her cunt, using the many bars of the cross as a decent foot hold while another was filling her mouth – almost gently – as though he enjoyed the view of it sinking deep into her mouth again and again more than fucking it. But it was the sight of Adam, his legs straddling those of the man beneath Bailey, that held my curious gaze.

His cock, glistening with what I could only assume was a mixture of Bailey’s copious excitement and the remnants of Barton’s spending, was level with her cunt, and taking it in turns with the pale cock, sliding against it, contending for space with incredible ease. I had seen a fair number of these scenes in the few videos I had downloaded in the past few years, but none of them held a candle to seeing it in real life. To be kneeling, watching the slide of thick, hard male flesh into one person, filling them passed the point of natural fullness in every available opening.

I felt Mary’s lips connect lightly with mine once more, before trailing over my jaw and down to my neck. Such softness after all I had experienced was a shock to my system, my overly sensitized skin tingling with every movement until I could barely repress a moan. I leant into her, desperate for her to continue, to never stop. My body still ached from the crop, my clit didn’t know whether to be scandalously abused or courageously begging for more by the way it throbbed between my legs, and when one long digit slipped lightly against it, I no longer cared which. Both melded into a disorganized array of pleasure and pain with each deliberate gentle swipe until my knee was rocking against her own heat in time to her ministrations.

Suddenly, she left me there, boneless as she rose with a grace I envied at that moment and moved to the ornate chair to the Earl’s right. She sat, her shapely legs crossed, her face serene and pale, contrasting sharply with how I thought I looked. I could feel the heat in my body spread out as arousal still consumed me, my hair was long since loose and dancing around my shoulders in waves I longed to pin back, and she sat, beautifully controlled, even in her new disarray. I could not help but admire her. She smiled, and rested her hands along the curved armrests.

“Crawl to me.” She ordered softly. I looked to the Earl, who was watching with interest – keen interest if the thickening of his cock so swiftly after his orgasm were anything to go by. He motioned me to move, with a light flick of his fingers.

I moved slowly at first, the ache in my legs bringing a sting to my eyes which I ignored and let my palms meet the floor. I could have crawled woodenly towards her, as I had seen Alice do to the guests a great deal this night, but the boredom and reticence in my French colleague’s manner did not appeal – since I was anything but bored and reticent. He was watching me, I could feel it, from the length of my hair shielding my expression from him, my breasts, heavy and nipple-puckered, he watched the sway in my hips as I crawled over the black marble towards his housekeeper, each movement no doubt highlighting the evidence of my own arousal as I could feel it liberally coat the insides of my thighs.

Reaching my quarry, I watched her stocking-clad legs elegantly unfold as I approached before lifting and hooking over the curved armrests, fitting perfectly in the smooth groove as though the chair were made for that specific purpose. For all I knew, and had witnessed in this house so far, the antique chairs could well have been.

Mary didn’t speak, only slowly lifted the hem of her dress to rest around her hips and moved her fingers through the sweet dampness I had helped create with my knee hard against her, and stroked her own clit as I watched. I took in her expression, her calm demeanor still in full force even as she shuddered lightly. I wanted her undone, I wanted her to moan as she had made me moan, I wanted her eyes shut, her head ground back with pleasure. I wondered if my lack of experience would hinder me bringing her to orgasm, but I still wanted to try. Besides, even though I had been lain prone beneath the ministrations of the headmistress on the table, blindfolded and bound, I had still been acutely aware of what her tongue had been doing to bring me so close, I knew what I had done to Alice that had brought her to moan and tremble, I wanted to give to Mary, what I had refused Bailey.

I caught her by surprise, waiting until she had blinked and glanced over to the sight of Bailey’s new conquerors before I moved forward silently. I had her hands against her thighs and away from her teasing in an instant before I lowered my head and lightly brushed my lips along her slit. I wouldn’t touch her clit, not straight away; the headmistress had held me in breathless awe waiting for that moment until the point where it was almost painful before she would take it against her lips and tongue. Tracing around, and around in circles, I tasted the effects of her night’s play, teasing and tasting my way until I began to feel the muscles in her legs clench and relax, the pulse near her cunt began to flutter and a low moan escaped her lips.

I released her hands, and braced for them to delve into my hair, thankful when they did not. I wanted free reign to do this, to learn this for now. I peeked up at Mary, her hands gripping the upholstery behind her head, her face not so pale now held a pretty flush and lightly parted lips. I let my fingers drift down to join my tongue, and spread her pink flesh until my tongue could dart inside. I marveled at the anatomy before me, so sensitive to my play, to my breathing, and then finally to the slide of my fingers as I pushed two deep inside, and descended on her clit. I twisted my digits upwards and brushed along the sensitive walls, finding the rough within the smooth and pressing, rubbing, rotating. I cared not what men say about what does and does not exist, I cared only about finding out for myself, and when Mary’s hips rose abruptly in the chair, I knew at least I had found something worth rubbing against again. I waited, teasing with my tongue only, around and around until she had stilled and released a sigh, before I repeated my action. Mary gasped and rose once more, even my pressure to keep her where she was nearly failed, but my tongue was rewarded when she grew slick against my fingers.

I could feel her quivering, inside; a feeling I had grown well acquainted with in my short time here within myself, and knew if I could just push her a little farther, she would come. I could not help but smile privately. Mary had known tricks, the tricks of bringing the Earl to orgasm in an instant, but I was a quick study too – and though my infernal curiosity had led to my capture in the library, it had also allowed me to indulge in numerous internet searches for porn that might actually succeed to arouse me. It had one thing that I had not thought of trying in my lifetime, but now, with her bare and glistening before me, sharply on the edge I was desperate to make her fall from, I wanted to. I kept up my slow teasing, timed my tongue reaching her clit and suckling, increasing the pressure against it until she was writhing against my mouth, her moans loud in my ears. I twisted my fingers again, could feel her straddling that edge, her hips unconsciously trying to bring her the correct pressure, that right spot that would just make her shatter.

Lowering my head, I kept my fingers of one hand circling, harder and harder, the other hovering around her clit, and let my tongue circle the sensitive tissue of her arse in one hard sweep. I jumped when she screamed, not quite anticipating the explosion waiting in the woman until she grabbed my head and her body clamped down hard around my fingers, convulsing repeatedly. I allowed my fingers to stroke gently until Mary had calmed, her hold in my hair lessening to a degree where I could extract myself from her and shift back a little.

I did not shift far. The heat at my back was astounding, I dared a glance over my shoulder and found him. Though kneeling himself, I was sitting back on my heels and the Earl simply towered over me. The smooth linen of his almost still crisp shirt brushed against my bare back, and I could feel his formal trousers were still open, his cock now no longer at simple half mast, it was a heated weight twitching against my spine, each breath of him moving me forward, then back to rest against it, trapping it between us.

Mary slipped from the chair, ever graceful, and moved silently on her knees towards me. I was glad of the dimness of our corner now. A number of people had taken to heart Mary’s announcement of dinner and had left, though some were swift to return, some still carrying their dinner napkins and wiping mouths of no doubt five star cuisine. Mrs. Hiddleton had no doubt outdone herself along with the extra hired-in staff. And yet the intrigue of this room, had them risking indigestion.

I could understand the appeal. Though now, with the intensity of the Earl at my back, touching my skin, I was terribly aware once more of my nakedness. The Earl drew people to watch him even without knowing it. His mere presence enough to catch their gaze, and now with him resting at my back, his muscles tense as Mary thanked my ministrations with a quick kiss, I was acutely aware that numerous eyes could soon watch our every move. Alone, Mary and I, I felt we were nearly invisible. Not so now.

I dropped my gaze, leaning away slightly; my hair shielding me a little as I fought the unnecessary shyness that made me tremble, and he followed me down. The long, lean curve of his stomach molding itself to my spine, the weight of him bending me further until my hands were forced to meet with the marble once more, and his own settled, large and tanned right beside them. His fingers brushed my pale ones, before he allowed them to travel up my arms, lightly drifting over my flesh in gentle patterns until he reached my shoulders. There, he touched a little harder, his fingertips easing the tension from my body as I gave myself over to his touch.

His weight eased from my back as he worked lower, tracing the marks that had been placed there, by cane, by flogger, and then by crop, each risen welt screaming as his fingers brushed by, yet soothed by the coolness of his touch. I was aware of Mary’s hands, brush my hair from my face before they both turned me over, positioning my almost languid limbs so my back connected with the marble, my legs spread about his trouser clad ones, and my head resting in the housekeeper’s lap.

He was a magnificent shadow looming in the candle light of our corner as he deftly undid his cufflinks and placed them on his chair, and rolled up his crisp white sleeves. The tanned, hair-dusted flesh, drawing my attention as I realized that each time he had taken me, he had been near to fully clothed. I hadn’t even seen his bared arms before. The bunching of his thighs when he had taken me, had always been from behind, just feeling, never seeing. This was, new… My breathing grew short as I watched him begin to lean over me, could see the heat there, in his eyes and I tried to look anywhere but. He was so close, everything about Bastion was overwhelming, to have him face you…

“Look at me Miss Soren.” And I did, though not to his eyes, but to where his gaze was lingering, at his fingertips as he let them brush the slick insides of my thighs, such cool in contrast to my heat making me shiver as he finally touched me where I was aching. Long fingers delved deep with no preamble, I watched two disappear into me and reemerge, the soaked digits offered to my lips to clean. He took them away from me, and sank them into me once again, the gradual building rhythm of his hand, the edge of his palm, his thumb brushing my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading over me until I was moaning. I didn’t care if they saw me now, I was lost. My head was tilted back into Mary’s lap, the sensations the Earl bringing about in me in sharp contrast to the gentle stroking of Mary’s hand over my hair.

Her whispered murmuring for me to relax were lost on me until I felt him push another finger, then another deep inside of me in swift succession. I cried out, my hands leaving the floor to clutch at nothing – my natural response to push him away, to stop the pain from becoming worse as his rhythm never faltered – I refrained, I trusted. I made my palms lie flat against the marble, my thighs release the tight hold on his hips I had not realized I had. Onward he pressed, his four fingers stretching me, pushing me until I could accommodate him. I could feel a fresh rush of arousal bloom when he slowed slightly, my tight pussy gushing in its acceptance. I felt his final finger brace hard against my opening, the smallest on his hand, yet the hardest to take. He did not relent, he pressed, more gently than he had before, slowly before he allowed me a little time to breathe. Though he had stopped his progress, he had not stopped his touch, his free hand teased over my clit, coating it in my arousal before squeezing it gently. Mary, her touch careful, was now caressing my breasts, my chest heaving against her hands as I danced along the finest edge of pleasure/pain he had enlightened me to. My nipples puckered in the cool room and Mary’s tongue found them, laved at them until they glistened with her saliva and tingled a path of sensation straight to my cunt.

Over and over, she teased, he touched until I was almost ready to cry. My soft moans had become louder with each gentle pass over my body and I ached to be finished.

“Please, Sir…” I whispered, my head once more falling, my back arching against his hand as they played with me.

“Shh, you will cum…but not until I am inside you.”

I nodded, numbly, wanting his cock, wanting to fulfill him in any way possible. Bring him the pleasure he was causing in me. I felt his hand move, but it was not as I had thought. Surging forward, he pressed and pressed until his hand was deep within me, my cry of pain, swift becoming a pleasure filled scream as his mouth enclosed my clit in a savage tug. My entire body shattered, clamping hard around the beginning of his wrist, his fist tensing and releasing within me with every shudder that overtook me. I was boneless, bodiless, and utterly undone. In gentle increments, I felt his hand leave me, empty, I was mildly panicked out of my sated stupor wondering if my cunt would ever recover, and it was to his quiet chuckle that I found my fingers touching, checking where he had been buried in me up to his pulse. With a smile of my own, I relaxed against the floor and against Mary as she whispered wordless things to me and allowed my eyes to drift shut for a moment, assimilating all that had occurred.

I felt my awareness of my surroundings sharpen slowly, emerging from the fog of arousal that had held me in thrall. My eyes opened, and caught his, seated back in his chair relaxed, sated, and mildly amused, his chin resting on the hand that had been buried in my body. I broke from him, and flushed red. Fuck, was I just simply wanton? Every movement caught my gaze, each flare of the candles and shadows played along with the sounds and it felt like a feast spread before a famished soul. My starved eyes had surveyed, absorbing every detail, enjoying the sight played out before us almost as much as those I had actively partaken in.

I silently wondered if I should be feeling shame. My mother would have certainly said so, in fact, I am convinced the sight of me lying on the floor before a man I call Sir, welt-striped and sexually sated, would actually end her. Sarah, well – I’ve been out with my sister many times where I have caught her doing a great number of similar things, though without the titles, obedience, and multiple partners.

I lay there – aware and yet not, of Mary and Bastion’s near silent conversation – I thought back to my reluctance to tell Sarah about my situation here and pondered why. These new experiences, perhaps something I wished to keep as my own a little while longer? Did I fear her response? That maybe, though for my sister as open sexually as she was, this may be one step too far. Was I ashamed, really?

No. I was not ashamed. I felt incredibly at peace with myself. Even in the short while since I had escaped the purgatory that was my mother’s hold, I had not felt truly at ease. Always as though nothing were tying me to the ground, the only stability I had was the conviction I had to earn enough money to begin my degree at Oxford. And so, I had worked – hard, long hours until I had heard of this job – then everything changed.

I stuttered in my own mind…’Until I had heard of this job’…I heard of this job, by way of a little heart shaped post-it note in my sister’s handwriting left on the top of my laptop one morning after a night out at Zodiac. Which was my sister’s favorite club – a slightly more daring dance floor than most, and with a VIP section I had never ventured into, though I knew Sarah held a special black card which allowed her entry to this restricted area.

It had been one rare occasion when I had actually had more to drink than my sister, and she had to look after me for a change. I had just finished packing the few belongings I had, and had moved them into Sarah’s flat while she was at work. The silence of those walls were a relief after listening to my mother’s scathing words for hours once she had figured out I was leaving. Although I had wanted nothing more than to curl up in my pajamas on Sarah’s sofa with a bottle of something guaranteed to lower me into oblivion with a movie, Sarah had thought differently.

I had found myself less than two hours and a bottle of Jack Daniels later, dressed in one of my sister’s less scandalous outfits, dancing in the dark heat of Zodiac with a very attractive Polish bartender who’s extent of the English language appeared to be, ‘can I take you home?’. My lack of interest, where there should have at least been – something – had later made me wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with me when the only thing that caught my attention that night was the hour my sister went missing from the dance floor and into the realm of the Zodiac VIP.