A Ducal Wedding Night

Cynthia smiled serenely at her wedding guests. She knew she made a lovely bride, in a new gown of pale green trimmed with three tiers of the best lace from Belgium. That knowledge was helping her cope with the overwhelming attention she was garnering as the bride of the most anticipated wedding of the season. There had been gratifying gasps of admiration when she had entered St. George's church on Hanover Square that morning. Nothing but the most fashionable church in London would do for the Duke of Norland's wedding, of course.

Looking over at her new husband through the throng of guests at the wedding banquet, Cynthia still felt slightly disbelieving that she had landed the most sought-after bachelor of the ton. Besides pleasing her parents to no end, their engagement had also made headlines in all the gossip rags and was the juiciest bit of on dit this season. Finally, the Duke of Norland was taking a wife!

At the moment, the man in question stood in a corner of the room with his two closest friends. They made up a trio of gentlemen known throughout society as simply "The Dukes". It was rare for there to be one Duke of marriageable age in the ton at any one time, but for there to be three was practically unheard of in the long history of the British nobility.

Thus, the Dukes of Norland, Pembroke, and Stamford had titillated the dreams of matchmaking mamas and young debutantes for over a decade now. The fact that they were all handsome and rich made them practically gods in the eyes of the beau monde, and there was no question they were very aware of this.

They stood apart from the rest of the crowd, tall, broad-shouldered, dashing. Cynthia's new husband, Jeremy Drayton, the Duke of Norland, was blonde and blue-eyed, like an Apollo turned mortal. He was the oldest of the three, and a very slight silvering at his temples could be discerned now, but this only made him more distinguished in the eyes of his admirers.

Pembroke was the next oldest at age 36, and he had dark hair, almost black, paired with soulful dark eyes. It was rumored he wrote poetry, and young ladies sighed constantly over his brooding, good looks, enhanced by his strong, lithe body.

Lastly, Stamford, rounded out their elite club. Although he was the youngest at 34, he was taller than even Norland by a few inches, and his massive, robust form was always clothed simply but elegantly, for a man of his size could never effect the frippery fashion of the dandies, nor could he even imitate the Corinthians. A coat with twelve capes would look ridiculous on his large frame. Despite his intimidating stature, he was the jolliest of their group. He was always smiling, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He had brown hair as well, but of a rich, chestnut color and with a tendency to curl.

Selena, a young debutante of Cynthia's acquaintance, sidled up to her. "My, my, The Dukes are certainly looking very fine today! I say, Duchess, I wish you would share your secrets with me! How did you ever catch him?" She giggled and sighed as she watched the three striking men, engrossed in a conversation. "I wonder what they're talking about so earnestly and secretively in their corner?"

"Everything proper, of course. The Duke of Norland is a perfect gentleman," Cynthia replied, in a dampening tone meant to discourage Selena's gossipy tongue. But if she had had any idea of what her new husband was really saying at that moment, she would not have been so sure of her words.

*********

"Well, Norland, you've finally gotten yourself leg-shackled," said Stamford, slapping his friend's back with a large hand that felt like a hammer. Jeremy winced slightly, but he was well-used to Stamford's over-exuberant gestures. His friend continued, "Not a bad match, I'd say. She's a pretty little thing. Her dowry is nothing to sneeze at either."

"Lady Lindley certainly had no other ambition for her daughter than a duke," said Pembroke, with a sly smile. "And it wouldn't have mattered which of us she landed for Miss Lindley. A most determined woman, with lofty goals for the wife of a Baronet. She pursued us all most assiduously and aggressively. I don't envy you your new mother-in-law, Norland."

Jeremy shrugged. "Our country estates are far enough apart to make frequent visits inconvenient. It will not be difficult to limit our time with Lady Lindley."

He glanced behind him towards his bride, her young body lush and appealing in her new dress. Cynthia's blonde hair waved becomingly around high cheekbones and long-lashed green eyes in a sweeping updo. Her coloring matched his own, and they had been dubbed "The Golden Couple" by all of society. They were both of long, noble lineages, and their riches would only be enhanced by this most advantageous marriage. "And I believe my new Duchess will do much in the marriage bed to make up for any deficiencies in her family."

His friends followed his gaze and Stamford grinned. "She's ripe for the plucking, ain't she? Have you had a little taste, Norland?"

"Certainly," Jeremy scoffed. "I would never have proposed otherwise. I required a wife who would be biddable, pliant, and above all, very fuckable, and I needed to be sure of all three qualities before asking for her hand."

Pembroke leaned forward. "Do tell, Norland. Did you take Miss Linley's cherry already?"

Shaking his head, Jeremy said, "No, unfortunately, there has been little opportunity. Her mother was a zealous chaperone. However, I managed to steal the girl onto one of the more secluded paths in Vauxhall one night, and she melted in my arms as soon as I kissed her. She was panting and moaning by the time her mother found us, practically begging for it." Norland smiled fondly at the memory. It was damnable that he hadn't yet gotten a chance to repeat the experience, but at last, the wedding night was finally upon them. He had been half hard all day, thinking of the things he was going to do to his young, lovely, nubile wife.

She had been so responsive to that hot kiss, her body so soft and delicious. The decorous Miss Lindley had dropped all pretensions and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her round breasts into his questing hands. She had moaned like a whore when he had pinched her taut nipples through her dress and Norland had known then that he would propose to her. It was high time he took a wife anyway, and although Miss Lindley had been out for a few seasons and was, at age 20, somewhat in danger of being labeled a spinster, he had found in her everything he wanted in a wife. Much more to his taste than the bland, child-like debutantes.

He looked back at his two friends with a twinkle in his eye. "Don't worry, lads. I'll give you all the details at the club tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after, if my new bride is as insatiable as I hope."

*********

Cynthia stood in her bedchamber, shivering slightly in the thin, revealing nightshift that her lady's maid had clothed her in after her bath, a gift from the Duke with instructions to wear it tonight. The décolletage was so low her nipples were almost showing, and it clung to her curves in a scandalous way. After seeing herself in the mirror, she had turned away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and excitement.

She was a little afraid of what would soon occur, despite the frequent replaying in her mind of that hot, forbidden kiss in Vauxhall Gardens several weeks ago. Every time she thought of that kiss, she felt swollen and achy and wet.

As she stared around her beautiful new chambers, Cynthia marveled at the sudden change in her situation, vaulted to the top of the peerage. Through her three seasons after her coming out, her mother had cautioned patience and steady perseverance in order to catch the Duke, and it had finally worked.

Unfortunately, her mother was not so forthright with advice on how to conduct herself in the marriage bed, and so a hundred possibilities ran through Cynthia's mind now as she sipped a glass of champagne, thoughtfully laid out on a small table by the fire with a plate of strawberries. Lifting one ripe berry, she bit into it, the juice bursting sweetly in her mouth and running down her chin. She reached for a napkin, but stopped when she heard the Duke behind her.

"Leave it," he ordered as he walked towards her from the adjoining door between their bedchambers. "I think I want to taste it on your skin."

He was still in his wedding suit, and looked as immaculate and handsome as ever. Jeremy was hewn in straight, strong lines, a tailor's dream. He was known to be a leader in fashion, much as Beau Brummel was in his day, sporting an elegant and masculine style that made the Pinks of the ton look ridiculous in comparison. His suit tonight highlighted his muscular shoulders and thighs, and as he stalked across the room, Cynthia felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. She had only seen that dark look of desire in his eyes once before, and her core tightened at seeing it again now.

Without ceremony, Jeremy caught her up in a crushing embrace, kissing her deeply and causing her head to spin. She was already feeling the effects of the champagne, and this kiss made her feel as if she had drunk a gallon of it. He licked the strawberry juice from her chin and delved his tongue into her mouth, kissing her for long, drugging minutes as they stood near the fire. Cynthia's hands wandered from his shoulders to his chest, slipping under the lapels of his coat in order to caress the hard planes of his torso. One of his hands had landed in her hair and the other on her ass, and as he skillfully controlled the kiss, he kneaded her generous bum possessively.

When their lips finally parted, Cynthia found herself plastered against Jeremy's strong body, clinging to him as she panted from desire. She could feel a wetness seeping onto her thighs and a heavy throbbing in her most secret place.

Jeremy smiled down at her, a sensual smile full of promise. "I now require you to undress me, wife."

"Me, your Grace? But your valet--"

"I also require an obedient wife, Cynthia. One who does not question the whims of a Duke." His voice had suddenly turned hard, and there was a dangerous note in it that sent a thrill through her.

She licked her lips and nodded, slowly reaching for his cravat with trembling fingers. "Yes, your Grace." She was relieved to see his stern demeanor left as soon as she acquiesced.

He chuckled as she meticulously undid the intricate folds of the snowy, white cloth. "And I thought I told you to call me Jeremy in private."

"Yes, J-Jeremy," she stammered. Addressing a Duke by his first name, even if he was her husband, was not easy!

At his direction, Cynthia removed his cravat, coat, and shirt. As each article of clothing was removed, her heart beat faster. She slowly uncovered his muscled chest, as if carved from marble, and couldn't help parting her lips in awe at his perfect form. The sight of his naked torso made her feel a deep and wondrous desire.

"Do you like what you see, wife?"

Cynthia nodded, loving the way he said "wife" in the deep timbre of his voice.

"Good. Now get on your knees and finish your task."

Unwilling to disobey and incur any further possible displeasure from her husband, Cynthia quickly dropped to the carpet and suddenly faced a large bulge at the front of Jeremy's trousers. She helped him remove his shoes and stockings, and then, her hands still unsteady, Cynthia reached for his falls.

After unbuttoning them, she couldn't help letting out a gasp when his huge, hard cock was revealed. It was much bigger than she would have imagined and she felt a twinge of fear as she stared at it. She stripped him of his trousers and he stood before her, gloriously naked.

"Touch it," her husband ordered from above. Cynthia tentatively reached out, as much in obedience as curiosity, encircling the large shaft with her right hand. Her thumb and forefinger barely met around his thick girth and she gulped, wondering just how it would fit inside her.

"Don't be scared, wife. You're going to be very good friends with my cock from now on."

Still holding onto his member, caressing the warm, surprisingly smooth, velvety skin, she looked up at Jeremy questioningly.

"What do you mean, sir?"

Instead of answering, Jeremy smirked down at her. "I very much like you in this position, wife. Now, I want you to lick my cock."

Cynthia widened her eyes in shock, but at the commanding stare of the Duke and a return of that stern glint in his eye, she obediently opened her mouth and stuck out her pink tongue, giving the head of his tool a quick lick. It was soft and smooth, and not at all unpleasant. In fact, the action sent a shiver of arousal through her.

"Keep going," Jeremy said, his voice taking on a husky note. "Pretend you're a child with a lolly and lick it all over. I want to see it shining."

It was scandalous and inappropriate, but Cynthia knew she had to obey that dark, masterful tone. She ran her tongue from the base of his rod to the head, swirling around the mushroom-like tip. As she watched Jeremy's eyes glitter with appreciation and lust, she felt more moisture seep onto her thighs and she squirmed on her knees. Deep inside her, a sensation was brewing, part heated pleasure, part unrelieved ache. Her breasts felt heavy and wanting, and her skin was electrified.

Entirely unbidden, a moan escaped her as she took his member into her mouth and gave it a suck.

"Fuck, yes, that's it. Suck my cock, wife. God, I knew you'd be good at this."

Cynthia moaned again at Jeremy's words, a strange joy filling her at his compliment. It was wicked and base, what she was doing, but at the same time, she had promised to obey her husband, and he seemed to enjoy what she was doing. She had to admit that she was also deriving a great deal of enjoyment from seeing the powerful Duke in this intimate setting, providing him pleasure from this scandalous act.

"Stroke it with your hand, too. Use your other hand on my balls; you can squeeze them, but not too hard. Yes, go on, suck it harder now," Jeremy was growling. He buried his fingers in her blonde locks and began to thrust lightly with his hips as he held her in an iron, unmoving grip, his member gently pushing against the back of her throat. Cynthia instinctively tried to back away, putting her hands on his thighs, but his hold was relentless. Her eyes watered as she looked up beseechingly at Jeremy, sucking hard at the same time as she struggled to stretch her jaw wider.

"You're a good cocksucker, wife. I can't wait to fuck your sweet pussy. Is it wet? Are you getting wet from sucking my cock?"

Cynthia moaned at his lewd words, closing her eyes as her pussy pulsed with desire, and suddenly, she felt Jeremy's cock slide down her throat a few inches. Her eyes flew open again in surprise as he groaned and tightened his hold on her hair, the stinging pull making her pussy gush with another flood of wetness.

"Oh bloody hell, yes, swallow my cock. Fuck!" His jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth and stared down at her, his manhood thick and unyielding in her throat. At last, he pulled away and she gasped for air. But before she could fully catch her breath, he plunged back in. With a muffled grunt, she instinctively swallowed his rod down her throat again.

"My God, you were made to suck cock, Cynthia. I was going to wait until I fucked your pussy, but you're going to make me cum now. Get ready, wife, I want you to swallow it all."

Cynthia had no idea what he was talking about, but she gamely continued to lick and slurp and suck. Her hand twisted around the base of his cock as she fondled his balls, and she marveled at the way the soft orbs suddenly seemed to draw up and stiffen. Jeremy's grunts and encouragements spurred her own desire on. She had never felt so swollen, so wet, so empty and wanting. She shifted on her knees, her nipples and cunt aching to be touched, and wondered if she was supposed to feel this way.

She watched, fascinated, as Jeremy unraveled before her, his hips jerking in erratic movements.

"Fucking hell!" he grunted, suddenly pushing down deep into her throat once more, shoving her head against his pelvis and keeping her there with her nose buried in the curly hairs at the base of his cock.

"Mmph!" Cynthia's vision was blurry with tears, but she could still see Jeremy's handsome face as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Suddenly, a salty rush of fluid flowed across her tongue and down her gullet and she worked to swallow all of it around the girth filling her mouth, dutifully recalling Jeremy's command to "swallow it all."

After endless moments, she finally felt the last twitch of his cock and he withdrew halfway, keeping his shaft in her mouth as she breathed hard through her nose, gulping the copious amounts of his spend.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he panted. "You're a very good girl, Duchess. Now, clean me up."

She drew her tongue all over his cock, cleaning up the last traces of his expulsion off of his heavy rod. His seed was salty and musky, and it wasn't exactly pleasant, but tasting it made her feel even more naughty and scandalous. It was surprising to see Jeremy's cock soften a little as she worked, and she fleetingly thought of the artwork and statues of the male form she had seen in museums, their insignificant and not at all frightening pricks a little less mystifying now.

"It's getting smaller," she said, looking up from her task. She still held his member in her hand, and she gave it a final lick.

Jeremy smirked as he pulled her up to standing. "Oh, don't worry, Duchess. I'm sure you'll bring it back to life again in very little time." She was a little wobbly on her legs after so much time on her knees, but he held her securely in his strong arms as he bent to kiss her.

The kiss was hard and demanding, and she felt a renewed thrill of anticipation as he stroked into her mouth with his tongue. She suddenly found herself lifted and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her hot core right onto his cock as her nightrail bunched around her waist. Jeremy was indeed hardening again to his previous state. His hands kneaded into her ass and she squirmed against him, humping her pussy against his thickening length. The friction felt so good that she moaned in disappointment at its loss when she felt herself being deposited on the bed.

The ache inside was overwhelming now, but she did not know how to ask for relief. Jeremy ran his hands up her legs, raising her silk nightgown to her waist as she wantonly spread her thighs in blind desire and lifted her hips. She wanted to be touched with an almost suffocating yearning.

Cynthia whimpered in relief when she felt Jeremy lean over her, grinding his cock into her needy pussy. He pulled the thin straps of her nightrail down, exposing her large breasts to his hands and mouth.

"Oh, yes!" she cried out when she felt his mouth on her nipple, sucking it and laving it with his tongue. It felt heavenly, as did his hand working her other breast just as expertly. He hummed in appreciation as she wriggled in pleasure, clasping his head to her breast, her fingers running through his thick, blonde locks.

Every time he stroked his tongue against her taut nipple, she felt a jolt of ecstasy run through her, straight from that aching tip to her dripping, throbbing pussy. Head pressed back into the soft mattress, Cynthia mewled and gasped as the pleasure rose up and up, creating a fiery urge inside her.

"Oh Jeremy!" she whimpered, the emptiness inside of her crying out to be filled. "Please!"

The unrelenting pleasurable torture continued as Jeremy moved to her other breast, giving it the same delicious treatment with his lips and tongue. Her pussy had slathered his cock in her juices by now, and she slicked herself up and down against its length, seeking relief from the drowning lust.