Fine Appetites

***Just a little tease during these times of social distancing***

The Duchess crossed her legs, choking her stableman into submission. She peered down beneath the grand dining table only to see the last lingering threat of defiance fading from his eyes, which made her smile. She decided to ease her grip on him.

She'd had her eye on him ever since they'd taken him on as a stableboy, even though he was more of a stableman. The Duchess overheard one of the maids gushing about his barrel chest and tall stature, which piqued her interest. Now here he was, feasting on her.

The Duke called to her, and she returned to their polite banter while the stableman rummaged around her muslin chemise.

"What was that, dear?" She asked, practically yelling to him. The dining hall, as well as the dining table, were meant to accommodate a royal sized family though the Duke and Duchess were without any heirs. However, once a year, the Queen visited from the north, and the table was large enough to accommodate her entire entourage. But now, on opposite sides, she thought the Duke was practically in another country.

"I asked if you liked the quail." The Duke repeated, his voice trumpeting through the dining hall. Usually, he didn't have much to say when they dined together, which wasn't often.

"It's delicious." She answered while reaching down and twisting her fingers in the stableman's hair. Then, she tugged at his locks, encouraging him to work faster, like a rider's crop whip. An idea came to her then. She imagined riding the stable-man and swatting his bare ass as he trotted around on all fours like a pony.

She bit into a tender morsel of quail and smiled at the fantasy until The Duchess felt the stableman's nose nuzzle up against her cleft. There was a pause as the sensation road up through her body. Then, She finished chewing while beneath the table, another appetite was being satisfied.

The Duchess felt the tip of his tongue trace her pussy and pressed her lips, struggling to keep her composure every time it made a pass over her clit.

"Bastard," she whispered. "Stop teasing me."

The stableman stopped for a moment and peered up at her. "Would you have it any other way, Duchess?" He asked in a voice as soft as cotton. Her only answer was a wicked smile, which sent him back to his task.

He licked her in gentle strokes as if her little pearl of a clit were a fragile thing. The Duchess rested an elbow on the table and leaned into her arm, trying to mask the sensation as it plumed inside of her. But, when the stableman began stirring her pussy like a ladle in a pot, she nearly choked on her food.

As his tongue worked, The Duchess felt his nose again, this time rummaging in the thick curls of her pubic hair as his tongue reached new depths inside of her. She couldn't help but to arch her back and push her hips into his face. She couldn't help but pull his hair like reigns on a stallion. She couldn't help but wrapped a leg around his head, trapping him in the vice of her thighs.

The Stableman struggled against her, and that sent the Duchess galloping towards a climax. It was as if a cannon had gone off inside of her, rocking her in her seat, and the Duchess had to clasped a hand over her mouth just to muffle her moans.

"isn't it delicious?"

She found the Duke looking at her from far off on the other side of the table. His eyes seemed to shine as he chewed slowly, savoring the flavor.

"Yes," She said, before pausing for breath. The stableman's tongue made it difficult for her to speak. Finally, she swallowed the quail meat and forced a smile. "It's delicious."

From far across the table, the Duke raised an eyebrow at her, and a thread of panic wove itself into the Duchess side. Did he know? How could he know? Was she that obvious?

"Are you sure everything is alright?" The Duke held up his glass. "Maybe it's the wine? Is the wine not to your..." But his words died in his mouth as he peered down for just a moment. The Duchess watched as the Duke seemingly struggled with something? Then he flashed a smile as he plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and patted down his forehead. "I'm sorry. Is it not to your taste?" He finally finished.

"N-no dear, it's just-" She grasped for some sort of explanation, but It was so hard to think when the stableman was down there, making a puddle between her thighs.

"Are you feeling ill?"

Of course, that was it! He'd given her the excuse she needed. "Yes, I've been feeling ill as of late." She wiped her mouth absently before putting a hand to her chest. "These humid nights leave me so restless."

"It's that why you often wonder the halls, hmmm? No doubt trying to tire yourself."

She only left the bedroom when he was sound asleep, so how could he know about her "tiring" night walks? "It's like the same way you heard about the stableman," she thought. "Servants talk."

She nodded once, not trusting herself to speak further on the matter. Instead, The Duchess lifted her empty wine glass. "Wine may help me sleep soundly." She called for a servant, but none answered.

"So hard to find good help these days." She muttered under her breath."

"What was that?" the Duke asked.

"Nothing."

The Duke patted down his forehead again, then pushed away from the table and stood. "I shall fetch it for you myself." And with a quick turn, he was off to the kitchen.

The moment he was out of sight, the Duchess looked down at the stableman. "God, that was amazing."

The servant favored her with a glossy smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Duchess put a finger to his lips. "Shhh," she whispered. "Don't ruin the moment."

She favored him with a brief kiss before standing and letting the servant escape. "Hurry," She said, urging him away with the wave of a hand. "Go before he returns."

"Yes, Duchess." He struggled to get to his feet before fleeing quietly out into the hallway, then out of sight.

A moment later, the Duke returned with a fresh bottle of wine.

"Forgive me, my love, but I feel faint." The Duchess stood and gestured at her plate. "I'm going to retire for the night. One of the housemaids can have the rest of my quail."

"Of course, dear." The Duke agreed, but his smile faded a little. The sort of passive smile that's usually reserved for married couples who know each other all too well. "Call if you need anything."

The Duchess kissed him goodnight before making her way to the bedroom. The Duke watched her go before licking his lips. He tasted something familiar on her kiss but he couldn't quite place what it was.

He thought about it as he took his seat on the other side of the grand dining table. It wasn't qual, he was certain of that. But before he could place the taste of on the Duchess's kiss, a hand reached from under the table and stroked his thigh.

"Is she gone?" Asked the dark-haired housemaid perch under the table. "Shall we continue?"

'The Duke nodded and reached down to stroke the housemaid's cheek. He could already feel himself growing hard again just at the sight of her prostrated before him.

"Do you think she suspects anything?" She asked.

"Maybe," answered the Duke and he licked his lips again. "But I have my own suspicions now."

"What do you mean?" But the Duke waved off her question.

Instead, he unbuttoned his baggy breeches, clearing a path to both fill his and her appetite. "Now then," The Duke started. His cock bounded out under the table and the housemaid licked her lips. "Where were we?"

The End

Thank you for reading.