The Erotic Dark (12 page)

Rebelliousness seethed inside her as she pressed her face into the sofa cushions and accepted Kruin’s deep, heavy plundering of her innermost regions. The pistoning of his stalk inevitably summoned Lydia’s unwilling arousal, which she tried desperately to suppress through a concentrated gathering of all the willpower in her possession.

Still she had twice failed in her efforts, climaxing so violently around his huge phallus that he had punished her with a brutally hard spanking. Although the fierce blows of Kruin’s large palm had left Lydia sobbing and whimpering into the sofa cushion, such punishment was not as difficult to bear as the belt-whipping had been.

To her confusion, Lydia found it equally difficult to maintain control over her excitement when Kruin was pumping into her as when Preston was. She had hoped that with Preston, her dislike of him would temper her natural desire for release. As Preston’s pleasure seemed to derive both from Lydia’s embarrassment and the sexual act itself, he had particularly begun to enjoy coercing her into lewd acts at odd times. And his manipulations caused her to become humiliatingly wet and swollen with arousal.

Just the other night, he had insisted that she position herself between his legs underneath the dinner table and suck him to orgasm while he cheerfully ate his
coq au vin
.

And when she had returned from a horse ride with Gabriel, after which they had spent several hours wiping down the horses and cleaning the stalls, Preston had forbidden Lydia to shower, instructing her instead to strip and, as he phrased it, “ride my steed now.” Which, reeking of horse-flesh, stained with sweat and dirt, Lydia had shamefully done. Both times she had not been able to stop herself from climaxing uncontrollably.

Although Preston remarked with harsh amusement about her frequent failure to adhere to their mandate, thankfully neither he nor the other two men had subjected her to more barbaric punishments than Kruin’s spankings. Lydia could almost bear their control over her if it meant a reprieve from the variety of harsher punishment they all appeared to enjoy.

She stretched again, feeling the sun warm her skin to a burnished gold.

“Lydia.” Gabriel’s voice broke through her temporary bliss.

Her eyelashes fluttered open. She brushed a few strands of tousled hair away from her forehead as she gazed at him standing over her bed. She searched his face for a hint of the gentleness that seemed such a part of him, but his expression was shuttered.

“Your presence is required downstairs,” he said. “After your shower, I have something new for you to wear.”

“What is it?”

Gabriel frowned. “You ask far too many questions, Lydia. Now hurry.”

Lydia slid out of bed, reaching for the sheet to cover herself as she moved from the bed to the bathroom. Before she could wrap the sheet around her body, Gabriel gripped the thick cotton in his fist and yanked it away from her. The abrupt movement was more than enough of a reprimand.

Lydia flushed as she slipped her legs over the side of the bed. She walked across the room, her feet sinking into the plush carpet, her senses heightened to Gabriel’s presence. She knew he was looking at the rounded curves of her hips, the fullness of her bare bottom, the alluring bounce of her breasts, and yet her awareness of his gaze was tempered by the persistent knowledge that she could not conceal herself from him. Even if she wished to.

Grateful that he allowed her privacy in the bathroom, Lydia stepped under the hot spray of the shower. Only in the early hours of the morning and in the shower did Lydia feel as if she were alone; otherwise, she constantly felt the presence of the three men, commands always hovering upon their lips.

She closed her eyes and soaped her body with thick lather, her nostrils filling with the smell of peaches. Water streamed over her skin in rivulets. She dipped the bar of soap between her legs, shuddering as her fingers encountered the soft pleats of her sex.

Since her arrival here, she had not touched herself aside from attending to basic hygiene. It was an act she was beginning to miss, for self-gratification had long been a perpetual practice in Lydia’s sensual repertoire.

She pressed her thumb experimentally against her lathered clitoris, feeling the little bud quiver in responsive pleasure. A deep sense of relief rose in her then, as she had begun to wonder if the three men were attuning her body to the point that she would respond only to them.

Although she had no intention of disobeying their order about masturbation—heaven knew she was having enough trouble controlling her sexual stimulation as it was—she was glad to learn that her body remained her own.

“Lydia!” Gabriel’s voice came through the door, accompanied by a sharp knock.

“I’m almost finished,” she called, then hastened to finish washing before annoying him further.

She rinsed the soap from her skin, then dried herself with a thick, soft towel. After smoothing scented lotion over her body, she dried her hair and wrapped herself in her robe.

Gabriel was waiting in the middle of the bedroom, hands on his hips, his green eyes devoid of their usual kindness. Lydia wondered if she had done something to displease him, or if she was witnessing yet another aspect of his personality. She tightened the robe around herself, crossing her arms over her breasts.

“What…what do you want me to wear?” she asked.

He pointed to two wisps of white silk and lace that lay on the bed. Lydia stared at the bra and panties with a dawning sense of horror.

“T-that’s it?” she stammered.

Gabriel picked up the panties and held them out to her. Lydia couldn’t move to take them. She suddenly realized it would be horribly revealing to wear nothing but underclothes after being allowed both the comfort and modesty of loose, cotton dresses.

Gabriel muttered something under his breath as he approached and reached to tug at the belt of her robe. The folds of cotton parted to expose her breasts and belly, moist with creamy lotion, and the surface of her mons.

Lydia swallowed hard as Gabriel bent to hold the panties for her. She stepped into them, flinching as he drew them over her legs and hips. A scrap of white silk fitted snugly over her bottom, attached only by two lace strings to the silk piece tucked between her legs. The panties were so tight that the material molded to the lips of Lydia’s sex, creating a curved little pouch that displayed all of her secret folds.

Gabriel then pushed her robe off completely and slipped the lacy brassiere over her shoulders. After fastening it behind her back, he turned her toward the full-length mirror in a corner of the room.

Lydia had never felt more exposed. The undergarments seemed to lift and thrust her body upward, as if in offering. Her nipples pressed lewdly against the fine lace, and she already felt her clitoris rubbing against the thin piece of silk.

From behind her, Gabriel slid his long fingers underneath the bra so her breasts fitted more neatly into the flimsy cups. The white mounds nearly overflowed from the tops of the cups, producing a deep crevice that imitated the succulent furrow between her legs.

For an instant, Gabriel rested his chin on the top of her head as he looked at her reflection in the mirror. A slow burn began to flare in his green eyes.

“Very nice,” he approved. “You’re a lovely woman, Lydia.”

A surge of pleasure rose in her so swiftly that she was startled. She hadn’t known until that moment how much his approval would mean to her. Her gaze met his briefly in the mirror before he released her.

Lydia’s nervousness expanded as she went downstairs and entered the solarium with Gabriel beside her. The aroma of rich coffee rose in the air alongside the delicious scents of hot, buttered toast and cinnamon brioche.

Lydia wasn’t surprised to see Preston and Kruin sitting at the table, their attention on various sections of the newspaper. They both looked up at her arrival.

A slow smile curved Preston’s mouth as he set the paper aside. “Ah, Lydia. What a scrumptious morning treat for us all. Come here, darling.”

Apprehension slid down Lydia’s spine. She stopped in the doorway. Her arms went automatically to shield her upthrust breasts as the bundle of nerves tightened in her belly.

“Lower your arms this instant.” Kruin’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Lydia felt Gabriel press his hand firmly against her lower back.

“Go,” he commanded.

She walked on unsteady legs to the head of the table, where Preston sat with his complacent smile. He pushed himself away from the table and patted his thigh, suggesting that she straddle his lap.

Lydia did, wincing as she felt the silk press deeper against her moist cleft. She reached behind her to steady herself on the edge of the table, causing her breasts to thrust forward toward Preston. A deep tremble started in her blood.

Her eyes fluttered downward as she saw the bulge already pressing against Preston’s trousers. She was acutely aware of Gabriel and Kruin behind her. Preston pressed his finger against the silk-covered pouch of Lydia’s sex, murmuring with amusement under his breath as his finger encountered the dampened cloth.

He settled his hands on her hips, pressing her body down until her splayed sex and bottom rested upon his thighs. Then he nodded toward a bowl of fruit on the table and suggested she serve him.

Lydia’s fingers fumbled for the bowl as she plucked a strawberry with her tapered fingers. Not knowing what he wanted, she held the berry to Preston’s lips. He shook his head, his eyes sliding meaningfully to the crevice between her breasts.

Lydia blushed. She pressed the strawberry into her swollen cleavage, feeling the seed-riddled flesh scrape delicately against her skin. The berry peeked out enticingly from between the fleshy globes, resembling so strongly the tiny fruit of Lydia’s clitoris nestled within her plump labia that all three men stirred with the desire to thrust their cocks into the tight crevice.

Preston, however, was in command of this particular scenario, and he apparently had no intentions of hastening events along, for he leaned forward and stroked his tongue lasciviously over Lydia’s neck and down to her breasts. She watched with nervous embarrassment as he snatched the strawberry between his teeth and bit into the fruit with evident enjoyment.

After ordering her to offer him another berry, Lydia tucked a fat raspberry between her breasts, which Preston again plucked out with licks of his tongue. As she presented him with another strawberry, a cherry, and several blueberries in succession, Lydia’s cleavage grew damp with saliva and the tasty juice of the berries. A pattern of crimson and purple juices stained her breasts, which Preston proceeded to lick up with rapid laps.

Lydia was horrified to feel her body surge with each rasp of Preston’s slick tongue. After sucking perhaps the tenth berry between his lips, Preston sat back in his chair and wiped a droplet of juice from the corner of his mouth.

He considered Lydia’s breasts barely concealed by the wispy scraps of lace, the swell of her dark nipples as succulent as the berries he had just consumed. He spread his fingers over her breasts and edged the material down only far enough to expose her nipples. The hard buds protruded indecently over the edges of the lacy cups, a display that caused Lydia’s blush to deepen.

She fidgeted with discomfort, her fingers clenching and unclenching on the edge of the table. The hardness of Preston’s thighs pressed against her barely covered vulva, eliciting a strong urge to writhe against his lap to satisfy her augmenting ache.

The memory of Kruin’s harsh decree was the only thing that stopped her from doing so, for she was beginning not to care about riding out her pleasure in front of three men. What she feared was another brutal punishment for disobeying their orders. At Preston’s command, she reached for a bowl of cream and gathered a dollop onto her fingers.

With a slow, reluctant movement, she spread the cream over the tight point of her left breast. Preston wasted no time in fastening his lips voraciously over the foamy offering, an action to which Lydia could not help responding with a small gasp of pleasure. She repeated the presentation with her other breast, staring down at Preston as he worked his lips and tongue over her areola and sucked up every last bit of cream.

After running his tongue over his lips, he gave her a wicked smile, his blue eyes swimming with lust. “Now lie down, darling.”

“Lie down?”

“Yes. On the table.”

Lydia turned to find that the middle of the table had been cleared of plates and bowls. Her anxious gaze went from Kruin to Gabriel and back again, but she found no pity in their heated expressions.

With a shudder, she lifted her bottom onto the table and lay down, her legs dangling over the edge. Her half-naked breasts began to slip from their meager, lacy confines, and she reflexively moved to pull the cups over the full mounds.

“Lydia.” The word snapped from Gabriel like a lash.

She flinched and lowered her arms alongside her body. Her hands tightened into fists as she felt Preston press his insistent hands between her damp thighs to spread them apart.

“Forgetting already, are you?” he asked, his stern words an undeniable reminder of the main decree that she was to follow.

Preston pushed her back onto the table so that her knees were up and her legs spread in the posture she had assumed when he first shaved her. Both Kruin and Gabriel moved around the side of the table to examine the sight of Lydia so fully on display.