A Lady or a Cock Whore? Ch. 06

Ah. So that's it. Arya almost rolled her eyes at the audacity of servants.

There was a lovely lunch laid out and they spent an hour chatting about simple things and enjoying the weather. Claire soon joined them, having changed into a more comfortable gown. She looked lovely, with her curvy frame encased in a light pink, flowy dress and her perfect skin glowing in the shaded outdoors. Arya felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Claire's beauty was not only physical, but there was something in the way that Claire held herself that Arya could only ever aspire to emulate.

After lunch they spent a few hours strolling around the property, and the evening was dedicated to continued conversation and games which they played in one of the many sitting rooms.

The next few days continued in a similar fashion. Arya was both disappointed and relieved to find that Eric didn't try anything sexual. There was banter, flirtation, and the air was often filled with the sizzle of their chemistry, but neither made any move to act on their attraction to the other. For Arya, this decision was based on her unwillingness to ruin the group dynamic. She enjoyed the company of the brother and sister, and didn't want to jeopardize anything - especially after telling Claire that she was not looking for a husband or lover. However, she often found herself staring at Eric's strong hands, or soft lips, wishing he would grab her again; and from Claire's knowing eyes, Arya guessed that the woman knew it. Determined to prove Claire wrong, Arya kept herself in check.

For Eric, his reluctance was based on an internal conflict. He wanted nothing more than to take the girl and throw her down on his bed, but he was afraid that he would lose control. He knew better than to become sexually involved with a high born lady; it inevitably led to either scandal or marriage, and he wanted neither. So he kept his hands off her, although he often allowed his mind to wander, imagining the things he would do to her if he had the chance.

One of his favorite fantasies involved several of the strong, soft ropes he had hidden in a cabinet. An old lover, Maris, had taught him an art form that she learned during her travels in an Eastern country - the art of rope tying, called Shibari. He had been stunned by the beauty of it, the way the ropes and their texture provided a sensual contrast to Maris's smooth skin and ample curves. During their long sessions of sex and play, Eric always looked upon her as a canvas, and the rope was paint and brush. He himself was an artist in those moments, drawing upon his dominance and strength to bring out her feminine beauty and her powerful, yet gentle submission.

In his fantasy it was Arya, however, not Maris whom he controlled. There was a strong hook in an exposed beam in his bedroom which he had surreptitiously installed several years prior, and in his fantasies Arya was strung up on it. She was suspended by a multitude of strands which were placed so perfectly that her body weight was evenly distributed. It was a skill Eric had been practicing for several years now, in anticipation of the day he found a suitable mistress.

Facing the floor in a horizontal position, he imagined Arya's legs were pulled back and the knees open for easy access to her beautiful pussy. Her arms were restrained and mouth gagged. Her breasts were framed by the ropes, and he groaned as he grew hard, picturing the clothespins he also had hidden away being attached to her firm nipples. He lay in bed stroking himself as his imagination continued to wander.

He visualized the way her eyes would grow wide with excitement, fear, and great pleasure as pulled out the gag and rubbed his cock along her lips. He would pump slowly into her mouth, giving her time to adjust before pushing further. His whole body twitched as he heard the sound of her innocent gagging, and knew that she would try to pull away but find herself unable to move an inch as he pulled inexorably on the ropes holding her, pressing himself against her throat once more.

Oh there was so much more he wanted to do, so many torturously pleasurable acts he wanted her to submit to, but that one fantasy alone was enough to make him come hard.

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his sweaty brow. "If only," he whispered hoarsely.

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Awakening one night, Arya found herself in want of a drink. Being considerate, she decided to fetch it herself instead of ringing for a maid. She got up, slipped on a light dressing gown, and headed downstairs. She had never been to the kitchen, as it was the province of the servants, but she knew where it was. As she stalked quietly through the dark halls, she heard whispers from the maid's quarters.

She paused, before sneaking towards the noise. Hidden around a corner, she stopped to listen.

"It's disgusting what she's doing, trying to seduce the Master." Arya recognized the voice of Shaela, the sour maid who had been glaring daggers at Arya for the past four days. "I don't know how she convinced him to bring her here," the poisonous voice continued, "he obviously has no interest in her. Have you seen the way she throws herself at him, staring at him all the time like a lovesick schoolgirl with nothing better to do than try and draw the attention of her betters to her own pathetic self?"

There was a pause, and Arya assumed that the maid's audience was nodding.

Shaela continued, "He must have been forced to bring her for some reason."

"Lady Claire invited the girl, didn't she?" a younger maid asked tentatively.

Shaela guffawed. "The Mistress has no use for her. It's hardly like she's gone out of her way to spend time with the simpleton."

"Perhaps the Master does have interest in her then? If she came by his invitation?" the maid asked, even more tentative this time.

Shaela answered her with another disdainful noise. "Oh you poor innocent thing. He had his manservant fetch him a whore from town yesterday, clearly he doesn't even think she's good enough to bed! No wonder, the sickly thing. Have you seen her eat? I dare say I haven't seen her eat more than a few bites at any meal. No man would want that, men need flesh and curves, not a bony stick."

"He's often looked at me, you know," Shaela continued, her voice smug. "Not that I would ever ruin my reputation, but I know his tastes and I'm far more his type than she is, the little runt."

Arya stopped listening as the woman rambled on, filled with shame and anger, her eyes brimming with tears. Her mouth even dryer than before, Arya returned silently to her room, tears leaking out her eyes.

She didn't notice the noise she was making as she hurriedly passed a room with a lit fire, and someone stirred from their armchair. Her sight blinded by tears, Arya was startled when heard footsteps behind her. She turned with a gasp, quickly wiping her face. Eric stood before her, concerned.

"My dear Arya, what's the matter?"

Arya shook her head, beginning to cry even harder. He put an arm around her and led her back to his sitting room, cradling her in his arms as they sunk into a large couch. She sobbed on his shoulder for a few minutes while he soothed her, feeling mortified but unable to stop the tears. The maid's words had struck her, reinforcing her own suspicions of his disinterest.

Feeling insecure and worthless, Arya leaned into the conflicting feeling of safety and love that she felt while being held by Eric. She glanced up at him as her tears quelled, and was comforted by the caring she could see in his eyes.

She reached a hand towards his face, stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes and she touched his brow, his jawline, his lips, relishing the opportunity to touch him so gently, so intimately. Without thought she drew even closer to him, lifting her face to his, trying to kiss him. Opening his eyes to find her face right next to his, Eric drew back in surprise.

Arya covered her mouth, humiliated by his rejection. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Please excuse me." She stood quickly, but was stopped by a firm hand.

"You're not leaving me now," he growled. He was feeling confused, but instinctively knew the damage he could cause if he let her leave without explaining his actions. "It's not... it's not that I don't want you Arya. Believe me, I do." His eyes gleamed hungrily and Arya felt her body begin to respond. "But you were just crying, and... I don't know. It feels wrong somehow to take advantage of that."

Arya's heart swelled at his kindness and his expression of desire, but her anger and shame were quickly resurfacing.

"Talk first, and then I might let you kiss me," Eric teased, his eyes smiling.

Arya couldn't help but return his affectionate look, loving the way his pale blue eyes captured hers and drew her to him. Her rising spirits wavered and fell, though, as she contemplated telling him what she had overheard.

"I-" she hesitated, but continued when he sat her down again and took her hand in his, rubbing it gently. "I overheard... I was getting water and..." Her eyes began to water again as she relived her moment of shame.

"What did you hear?" he growled. "Were the servants gossiping?"

She nodded silently, staring up at him with wide eyes. He felt himself harden - those were exactly the eyes and expression he had imagined so many times in his fantasies. Ignoring his body, he gently urged her to continue.

"Did you have a whore brought here?" She reddened as soon as the question slipped from her mouth, unable to control herself from asking the dreadful question and not wanting an answer, but needing one nonetheless.

It was Eric, now, who turned beet red and glanced away. "Not recently," he answered honestly, "but in the past... yes."

Arya felt a sense of relief knowing that he hadn't done so in her time at the estate, and she had overheard enough crude conversations from the men in her life to know that his action wasn't unusual in any way... yet her heart began to hurt and anger rose at the thought of him tumbling around his bedchamber with anyone other than her.

Seeing her expression, his grew pained. He had nothing to apologize for, yet for some reason he wanted to. He dropped her hand and stood up, pacing in front of the fireplace.

Arya remained quiet for a few minutes, processing the information. Her thoughts were interrupted as Eric suddenly growled. "Shaela," he spat. "It was her, wasn't it?"

Arya nodded again.

"That little bitch," he said under his breath, shocked that one of his own servants would spread such a falsehood about him.

Eric moved quickly, stepping towards the door as his anger deepened. The woman had been nothing but a source of trouble, and if not for her family connections he would never have let her stay on this long. He was startled out of his anger, though, by a gentle hand which clasped his, pulling him back.

He turned his head and Arya stood behind him, her eyes still red from tears but her face calm. "She deserves whatever justice you bring down upon her but... would you stay with me a moment longer, Eric?"

The softness in her tone undid him. Not knowing what to do with his emotions but feeling a strong need to act in some way, he turned jerkily and grabbed her face, looking deep into her eyes before leaning forward and roughly claiming her lips. She gasped as she felt a hand on her breast, and her body pressed against him, relishing the contact.

He groaned, pulling her closer to him and letting his tongue wrestle with hers.

It was exquisite, kissing him with the knowledge that there was no one who would stop them, no time limit, no rush to return to polite society. It seemed to go on and on, and every second was heaven for her. Eventually she pulled back, heady and zinging with shivers as his hands moved from her breasts to her ass. He had begun to gather the fabric in his hands, bunching it up as he pulled it higher and higher.

She ground against him, feeling his bulge, looking at his handsome face in wonderment. He kissed down her neck and drew the fabric slowly up, exposing her round cheeks as her lips parted and her breath left her in a whoosh.

"You smell so good," he murmured against her skin, licking her throat and grasping her hard with his hands.

"So do you," she replied shyly.

"I want you," he breathed, unable to help himself. "I want all of you. I want to be inside you."

Equally inflamed, Arya couldn't help but nod vigorously in assent.

"Are you sure you're ready? Are you sure you understand the risk you're taking?"

Eric watched her intently, needing to know she was making the right decision.

"Just shut up and kiss me again," Arya replied dazedly, stepping forward and grabbing him by the hair.

She pulled him towards her, but paused when she realized he was resisting. She looked up, perplexed.

Eric was glaring down at her with an anger that shocked Arya to her core, and she snatched her hand back as though he was a hot stove. "I'm sorry, did-"

"Did you just tell me what to do?" he interrupted, his voice soft and deep.

Arya felt a shiver run down the length of her entire body, his anger arousing her in ways she would never have expected. "I... I just..." She paused, peeking up at him. Seeing his face grow sterner, she immediately apologized, "Yes. I'm sorry."

He hummed in pleasure. "Good little Arya. Apology accepted."

She looked up in relief at his response, only to find his hand in front of her face. It covered her mouth, and the other wrapped in her hair, pulling her head back.

Eric leaned down, whispering in her ear, "I'm not sure if you realize exactly what you just agreed to, but I'm going to make sure you learn."

Arya let out a scared little squeal, and Eric grinned as he pulled out a handkerchief. He winked, then Arya felt some kind of persona fall over him like a veil as his expression grew grave and stern once more. He stuffed the handkerchief into her mouth, feeling his cock twitch as she let out a muffled sound of fear and arousal.

He looked down at her cleavage, marveling at the smooth, pale skin spilling out of it's raiment. He softly brushed her thick, chestnut hair off her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her neck. She leaned her head to one side, allowing him access with a sigh. He gently kissed her before sucking on her skin more intensely, a sensation Arya was unfamiliar with but instantly loved. He bit and ravaged her neck, enjoying how she became tense and tried to wriggle away, making sexy little noises.

Her hands tried to push his face away, and he backed off, although she had just earned herself the loss of her hands, he thought to himself. He locked them down with one of his own, and with the other he ripped open her bodice and freed her breasts from their confinement. They sat heavy and full on her chest, not perky but lovely in shape. Like a teardrop, with hard little nipples grazing the tops, surrounded by pink areolas.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth, again giving soft, tender treatment followed by biting and sucking. He felt her writhe against him, her hips methodically humping his leg as she unconsciously tightened her body around his.

Eric felt her hand pull itself free and thought to punish her, but then it began caressing down his stomach to the top of his pants and he was frozen by the strength of his lust. Her fingers awkwardly dipped under the fabric, searching for his cock. With a small mm of satisfaction she found it, her fingers wrapping around him cautiously. He groaned when she squeezed it gently, pulsing in response.

He could tell that Arya wasn't sure what to do, and he decided it was time for a lesson. He pulled away from her breasts reluctantly, and released her in order to remove his pants. He wrenched them off quickly, and picked her up, causing her to squeak. She lay with her head on his shoulder and let him carry her to the next room, a bedroom which was far larger than her own.

He dropped her unceremoniously on the bed and stared down at her intently, drinking in the sight of her. She looked up at him, confused but unable to ask questions since he had yet to remove the gag. He was pleased that she had enough good sense to not try and remove it. He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her. He kissed her nose once, a sweet and affectionate gesture, then flopped onto his back. He drew her against his side and she propped herself up on one arm, draping her leg across his with her skirt pulled up to the top of her thighs.

He took her hand and brought it slowly to his cock. He guided her movements, showing her to start slow and teasing, before slowing increasing tempo and pressure. When she had gotten the hang of it, he pulled the gag out slowly, enjoying watching a strand of spit dangle between it and her mouth before her tongue swept it away. She drew in an eager breath, but before she could speak he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a quiet passion.

Arya kissed him back, loving the feel of his warm, hard cock in her hand as his soft tongue danced with hers. She jerked in surprise as she felt his fingers on her, his palm cupping her mound softly and his middle finger delving into her depths. Finding her soaking wet, Eric pulled away from the kiss with a grin, and Arya blushed. He watched her face as his fingers caressed the outside of her lips, then moved upwards to tease her clit. Her hand on his cock became jerky and undisciplined as she focused entirely on what he was doing.

He began to play with her softly, and she kissed him with greater urgency. She became more passionate, and he was as hard as he had ever been seeing the lust being drawn from her. She humped his hand, her face growing red and beading with sweat.

He thought in that moment that she was the most sensual, exquisite woman he had ever seen, and he felt as though he was drowning in her arousal, her sheer wantonness as she gasped and moaned and drove her flesh into his as she stroked him erratically.

He couldn't help it. As much as he wanted to draw this out, as much as he wanted to make her come and feel her pussy wrapped around him and know all the joys her body had to offer, it was too much. Eric erupted and thanked the gods that Arya didn't stop stroking as come splattered across his chest and covered her hand. Coming down from the high, Arya's strokes now felt almost painful and he reached down and slowed her movements, moaning into her mouth as he kissed her in silent thanks.

He pulled back after a moment and Arya looked down, surprised at how sticky the fluid was that coated her hand. Seeing where Arya's attention was riveted, Eric ran a finger across the back of her hand, scooping up some of his come, then brought it to her lips. Her pink tongue reached out tentatively, her eyes latched onto his as she tasted him. If he could have, Eric would have come again just watching her suckle his finger and swallow his offering.

She was flushed and breathing heavily as she leaned back, smiling widely. He followed her with his body, and this time he was propped on one arm as he leaned over her and kissed her again, feeling post-orgasmic bliss spread through him like a tranquilizer. She turned her body to meet his and he smiled as he felt her begin to move against him once more. His hands were cupping her face and he let out a small laugh, feeling joyful and strangely free.

It looked like she wanted to say something but didn't, and he was unsure why she held back. He prodded her to speak, and she blushed.

"Could I- is it uhm... my turn?"

Eric laughed fully at that, a belly laugh that rocked them both as they held each other close. She flushed a deeper red and began to pull away, feeling embarrassed, but Eric held her tight.