A Lady or a Cock Whore? Ch. 09 - (C/r)

Hello, lovely readers! This chapter was surprisingly difficult for me to write, but it was a fun exercise! I'm not sure how much of their thread I will continue to write moving forward, since it took a lot of mental energy - though I did enjoy the "research" I had to do to become inspired ;) If I get helpful feedback or comments from people asking for more, then I'm happy to keep trying. Otherwise I might abandon this and go back to focusing solely on Arya and Eric. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

~Gaelen

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Back at the estate, Claire was feeling heady and joyous. As soon as Eric and Arya had left, her demeanor had shifted dramatically. From dinner until bedtime, she was witty, sharp tongued, and demanding. And she could tell that Lord Easton - or Roy, as she called him in private - was loving it. She made comments that were insulting, humiliating, and degrading, and he lapped them up with a shit eating grin.

By the time bedtime had arrived, there had been a conspicuous tent in his pants for at least an hour and the physical tension in his body was obvious. Claire was dripping with arousal, herself, but it was far easier to hide her physical desire than it was for him. She used that to her advantage, making snide and teasing comments that didn't directly address his hard on, but covertly communicated her knowledge of it; and that only made him harder.

They climbed the stairs together, about to go their separate ways. Roy began to bid her a good night but she interrupted him mid-sentence.

"We're not done for the night yet, Roy," she told him, her voice low and dark gaze intense. She could see the shiver that ran down his frame as his eyes widened. "You will come to my room at midnight."

Her eyes smoldered and the side of her mouth curved up as she drank in his lust and shock. She left him then, without waiting for an answer, walking with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Claire knew he would be watching her.

A bit more clever than her brother when it came to distraction and deception, Claire had already set up a diversion that she knew would draw the servant's attention away from the guest and family quarters. She was unsurprised when it worked - she was nothing if not thorough and detailed in her planning - and at 11:45 her side of the house was empty, and she was ready for him.

When Roy knocked timidly on her door, Claire donned a long, men's bathrobe and opened it. She loved the way he stared at her, his eyes burning with desire as he took in her kohl-lined eyes, bright red lips, and curled hair. She had gone to great lengths to overdo her makeup, knowing that it made her look like a whore, and knowing also that this was a look he preferred. She said nothing, simply crooking her finger and motioned for him to follow. He did so silently, following her lead.

She led him through her sitting room and into her bedroom. There was a plush armchair by the fire which faced her bed, and the floor between the two pieces of furniture was covered with thick furs.

Claire stood in the midpoint between the furniture, and told him, "Come stand here."

She moved away and he took her place, standing in the middle of the room with an awkward, extremely excited look on his face. Claire moved to the armchair and sat, crossing her legs and placing her arms on the armrests as she raised her chin and looked upon him with the haughtiest expression she could muster.

"I know you've been dreaming about me," she began, licking her lips obscenely. "About my long legs, my supple breasts... I know what you do at night when you think about me. I know how you stroke your cock and imagine my warm, wet pussy. Don't you, Roy?"

He almost couldn't answer, he was so stunned. "Y-yes," he finally replied, his voice hoarse and choked.

"What do you do when you think about fucking me, Roy?"

He turned crimson and shook his head.

"Say it!" she snarled.

"I-" he hesitated, swallowing hard. "I jerk m-myself. I- I come thinking about you."

"Good boy," Claire praised him, smiling widely. "Very good. Keep obeying me so wonderfully and perhaps you'll finally get to feel what my hot little pussy feels like. And tastes like."

The poor man groaned, his pants tented straight outwards as his cock strained against the fabric.

Claire was overjoyed. It was more satisfying than she could have even imagined, being in control in this way - and she had imagined it a lot.

It felt like freedom. Like bliss. And she was saturated with the feeling of power she had over him. He would do anything she said, she could tell by the glazed look in his eye and the way he was beginning to pant.

"You're like a little bitch in heat, aren't you?" she hissed. "Standing there in front of me, so hard, wanting desperately to touch me." She smirked. "But you can't. All you can do is stand there, impotent and powerless, waiting for me to free you."

"Oh God," Roy moaned. "I want you Claire. I want you so badly."

"Oh I know, darling," she purred, "and you will have me, I promise. But first you will watch, and you will wait, and you will perform for me. And then I will give you what you need so desperately. ... if you give me what I need first, of course."

He nodded vigorously. "Anything," he promised. "I'll give you whatever you need."

"Of course you will," she replied smugly. "But you do not get to call me 'Claire'." She laughed condescendingly. "You do not deserve to address me as though you are anywhere near my equal. I am your Mistress, your Goddess, and you will treat me with the respect I deserve."

"Yes Mistress," Roy breathed.

Claire watched him, leaning forward and placing her chin on her entwined fingers. She deliberately raked her gaze over him, forcing him to bear her scrutiny. She could see how uncomfortable this made him.

"Take off your shirt."

Roy complied, his fingers shaking. He dropped the shirt to the floor.

"Don't sully my floor with your disgusting things! Fold it properly, you fool. Place it by the door. Be a good boy and I might let you put it back on when you leave."

He obeyed her quickly, his face flaming.

"Your pants, too," she ordered when he returned to his spot on the rug. "Shoes, socks, everything. You will not hide yourself from my gaze with any scrap of cheap clothing."

Roy was a man who took pride in his clothing, who spent a fortune on the latest fashions, and her comment stung. But he loved her like this. He loved that she made him feel inferior, cheap, nothing more than a walking cock to use as she pleased. And the fact that she had initiated this, had taken control over him and forced him into submission at the first opportunity, made his heart swell with love and lust. He had no idea how she knew about his sexual preferences but the fact that she did, and that fact that she took advantage of that knowledge, made her perfect.

He walked back to his spot and stood dutifully, unashamed of his nakedness now that he knew she wanted to see him. It was flattering and empowering, the way her eyes devoured him, and he let his cock stand proud and tall in the face of her perusal.

She took her time, scanning his body up and down, motioning for him to turn in circles for her. Claire didn't betray her surprise at seeing his member, which was far larger than she had expected. She had heard stories, of course, but his cock was monstrous. He was flaunting it, and that irritated her.

"Adequate," she sniffed, enjoying the flicker of disappointment that crossed his face. "You should ride more instead of taking the carriage. Your ass is flat, and your thighs look weak. I need a man who has the power to fuck me for days. And I don't think you can do that with such pitiful muscles."

Roy wanted to protest, but knew that she would not tolerate being contradicted.

"And your balls don't look swollen enough," she added harshly. "Did you orgasm before meeting me here tonight?"

He swallowed nervously, then nodded.

Claire frowned deeply. "In the future you will save your come for me. You will not waste it in your hand. I want your balls full to bursting. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She appeared to think deeply. "If you can't give me the come I need tonight, what's the point in keeping you here?" she asked rhetorically.

Roy held back a groan of despair. "Please, Claire. Don't make me leave."

Anger flashed across the woman's exquisite face.

"Claire? ... Claire?! How DARE you address me as an equal! I TOLD you what to say!"

"No please! I didn't mean to, it just slipped out! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mistress!"

Claire walked forward and grabbed his hair roughly. She drew his face to hers and spat in it. Roy gasped, his cock jerking madly as she rubbed it in with a look of rage.

"Next time you fuck up like that I'll crop you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week," she threatened. Her face cleared of emotion as she palmed his face and pushed his head away, returning slowly to her chair.

"But you would like that, wouldn't you? Perhaps a more fitting punishment would be to lock up your cock."

"Whatever you want, Mistress," he pleaded, "it is yours to use as you wish. Just please don't hurt me."

"Pathetic. Thinking you have any say in what I do to your body," Claire mocked him. "Quit your sniveling and bend over the bed. I don't have a crop on me tonight - I had expected better behavior from you - but I'm sure we can come up with a suitable punishment."

Roy looked devastated and Claire felt guilty for a moment. She hoped she wasn't pushing him too hard. But he instantly obeyed and his cock was still throbbing, so she felt confident enough to continue.

He bent over the bed, exposing himself to her gaze and she walked towards him slowly. She reached out and grabbed his ass with one hand, squeezing as hard as she could, the other gently pushing down on his neck. He yelped and flinched and Claire spanked him hard.

"Stay still. Do not try to avoid my hand or it will never pleasure you."

"Yes, Mistress," he whispered.

She spanked him again and he did his best not to flinch.

"Better."

He breathed a sigh of relief when she desisted. Humiliation, not pain, was what drove him crazy.

"I was going to let you watch me," Claire began. Her voice grew slightly more distant and he knew that she had softly padded away from him. He didn't dare move, though he was desperate to look as she continued, "but now you will have to listen to me find my release, rather than watching. And you will certainly not be participating."

Roy groaned.

"Are you complaining?" she demanded.

"No, I'm not complaining. ... You're just so beautiful, it hurts to know I can't see you."

Claire considered how to reply, beaming with joy and glad he couldn't see it. She settled on, "I'm glad you recognize my beauty. Not that you deserve to see it, but at least you have enough intelligence to recognize it."

"Yes, Mistress," he whispered obediently. "I know I don't deserve it."

"Good boy." She took a breath, nervous but ready. "I'm going to touch myself now. And you are going to listen to me. You're going to listen to my moans, my desire, and you will NOT look at me. You will lay there, throbbing and impotent as you imagine how wet my pussy is, how my body becomes flushed and sweaty as I touch my breasts and my cunt. And you will thank me for it, won't you Roy?"

"Yes, oh God yes. Thank you."

"'Thank you' for what?"

"For letting me hear you. I hope that someday I'm worthy enough to watch, too."

She sniffed disdainfully. "We'll see about that. You've a long way to go yet before you prove yourself. So far I'm unimpressed."

Claire began to work herself off in the chair, legs spread obscenely as she touched herself in just the right way. It was unladylike, of course, for her to know how to masturbate, but right now she was very glad she did. Roy was writhing before her, clearly being teased mercilessly as Claire touched herself, exaggerating her moans and speaking almost continuously. Her language was crude, graphic, and degrading, and she continued until she became breathless with the approach of her peak.

"Tell me how badly you want it," she demanded hoarsely, her throat sore from speaking continually for so long.

"I want it, Mistress, I need it. Please come, please let me hear it," he begged.

The pathetic submission in his voice undid her, and Claire almost screamed with pleasure as her body shuddered. The waves crashed over her, again and again, her eyes closed as she humped her fingers until she could hardly move from exhaustion.

"Thank you Mistress, thank you," Roy was muttering, over and over as he tried to hold back his own orgasm. He had been grinding against the bed for stimulation, silent in the face of her dominance and her need to talk dirty and tease him with everything she had, but inside he was crying out with need and desire for her. He had never wanted someone so badly, and it had taken all his self control not to turn and look as he heard her climax overtake her.

He didn't dare ask to come for her, and her ban on masturbation was feeling more and more like torture as he contemplated leaving here and being unable to relieve himself.

Claire sighed in contentment, watching him hump the bed mindlessly as his asshole twitched and contracted sporadically from the force of his intense, physical excitement and inability to act on it.

"You're such a disgusting little slut, you know that? Humping the bed like a dog as you bare yourself to me."

Roy groaned at her words. "Yes, Mistress. But I'm your little slut, I do this for you and only for you, and I thank you for letting me."

Claire was blown away by his words, affection filling her heart. "Oh Roy," she whispered, moving towards him and pulling on his shoulders to prompt him to stand. He was surprised when she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his back lovingly, her hands running aimlessly over his chest, his hips, his thighs, but never his cock. He pressed his ass backwards against her and could feel the wetness on her thighs. He felt incredibly lucky, knowing that her juices had flowed for him. He began to speak but she moved her hand to his mouth and hushed him.

"You may face me, now."

Roy turned his head to look at her and she backed away, moving to stand in front of the chair. She slowly undid the robe's sash, and began to move it down her shoulders at an almost unbearably slow place. His eyes were fixed on her hands as they drew the robe off of her shoulders and down her upper arms, gasping as her breasts came into view. They were encompassed by black, lacy underthings, the nipples atop the large globes peaking teasingly above them. They were large and puffy, and he wanted to suck them into his mouth and never let go. Her breasts were much larger than a handful, and he ached to squeeze them, to feel their weight in his hands. He imagined his cock between them, and closed his eyes briefly as he groaned.

The robe dropped further and Claire's narrow waist was exposed, but only a thin strip of stomach was bared for his viewing pleasure. Her bottom undergarments were high waisted and equally lacy, and when the robe finally dropped all the way to the floor he could see her thighs glistening. He drank in her smooth, toned legs, wanting to kiss every inch of her.

Claire was right: she was a Goddess, and Roy wanted to drop to his knees and worship her the way she deserved.

She smiled gently, then her look grew stern once more. "Stand in the middle again." He did so. "Touch yourself, Roy. Touch yourself as you look at me, and imagine what my body looks like under these clothes. Imagine how you will one day take them off, sliding them off of my skin as you touch and lick and kiss every inch of me. Imagine how I will feel against you, how I will taste under your tongue."

Before she had finished one sentence his hand was on his cock and he was stroking himself, desperate with need. Claire continued on, speaking his fantasies (and hers, he realized) aloud for his benefit as his strokes grew faster, more erratic, his chest heaving and body pulsing with desire for her. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his climax coming, and he knew it would slam into him with the force of a train. He began to pant and twitch, his thighs clenching and hips jerking.

Knowing his state of arousal, seeing that he was getting close, Claire ordered harshly, "Stop."

Roy closed his eyes and his entire body shook with the effort it took to force his hand to cease its movements.

"Please," he begged desperately. "Please, Mistress. Don't make me stop."

Claire's eyes hardened and he saw rage flash across her face. "You did well to ask, rather than demand, but you have no right to do either. Keep your miserable pleas to yourself. I will not hear them, I will not heed them, and you will wait for my order to come."

"Yes," he gasped, like a fish out of water. "Whatever you say, Mistress."

"Excellent. And I say that you will leave me now. You will not find your release, you will not even touch yourself for a moment until I tell you you are allowed to. Do you understand?"

Roy had to bite back a cry of despair. "Yes, I understand," he choked out.

"Good. Now leave me," she replied indifferently.

Roy walked to the door, hesitating before asking softly, "May I put my clothes back on before I leave?"

"No."

Roy turned scarlet and felt as though he were about to have a heart attack. This was too cruel, too shameful, even for him!

Claire watched his face, testing his resolve and his dedication to her will. She watched him wrestle with her order, his emotions strong and obvious on his round face. Finally, his shoulders slumped as his cock deflated and he accepted defeat.

Inside, Claire was bursting with triumph and overcome with a feeling of power. But she was a reasonable woman, and smiled.

"No, Roy, you may dress. I am very pleased with you, and I think you may have just earned the right to touch me next time."

He beamed, his relief stark and his cock throbbing with lust once more. "Thank you, my Goddess. I promise I will not disappoint you."

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Breakfast the next morning was a bit awkward. Claire had resumed her deferential façade in front of the servants, and Roy was at a loss as to how to approach their dynamic. He was never an authoritative figure to begin with, tending to be relatively passive, but now he felt even more uncomfortable taking on that role with her. He knew what she truly wanted, truly needed, and wanted to give it to her. But decorum and cultural standards kept her dominance in check, and he was desperate to have another opportunity to see her true self unleashed.

Funnily enough, in her passivity Claire had just as much control over Roy as she desired; she knew she was keeping him off balance, and it was just what she wanted. But the poor man would never think to suspect such manipulation, and Claire was enjoying watching the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to think of ways to give her the opportunity to give her control over him once again.

Claire was just as eager as he, and suggested that perhaps he would enjoy seeing the library. She told him that she had found a book he would love. He wasn't an avid reader, preferring the outdoors, but he acquiesced nonetheless. Claire smiled at his naivety. She led him to the beautiful room, the walls a dark wood with built in shelves lining every surface except for where long, narrow windows let in daylight. There was a sitting area, and she motioned for him to join her there. She ordered tea from the servants, and they made small talk as they waited. Once the tea tray had been delivered, Claire ordered the servants out.