Lords, Ladies, Butlers and Maids: Period Erotica in Private Houses. Alegra Verde

off down the hall.

      I withdrew my hand.

      He unbuttoned the placket, reached in and tugged until the tip and just a little more of his thickly swollen sex peeked out.

      ‘Do you want to touch it?’

      I nodded, unable to speak as the muscles of my sex trembled and my nipples hardened further, straining against the uneven fabric.

      ‘Only your mouth,’ he said and held the plum out to me.

      Kneeling before him now, I leaned in and licked the purplish helmet. It was slightly salty and very warm. There was a faint savoury smell, musky, like the sea in summer. His hand trembled, but he said nothing. I slipped my mouth over the hot little hood and sucked. I liked the way it felt in my mouth, all warm, round and slick. I sucked harder, making sure that my teeth only skirted the tender skin. He held more out to me and soon I had a good portion of him in my mouth. I gripped one of his thighs with one hand and the edge of a tight round cheek with the other while I sucked at him. I tasted as much of him as I could. My mouth slid up and down the heated skin; my tongue lingering over the notch under the hood and the places where the engorged veins made the skin rise and swell tightly.

      He groaned and one of his hands fell to my head, his fingers sifting deeply through the tresses until they were snugly tucked into my curls, holding me in place but giving me enough room to continue sucking the ever-hardening length of him. The tugging way his fingers threaded through my hair reminded me of last summer, of the way Henry had held my head as we knelt near the pond.

      Henry and I had grown up together as his father’s estate abutted ours. We had spent the day together saying our goodbyes as he was leaving the following day for the requisite Grand Tour. He and I had always played like boys together, rough and tumble, and he didn’t let up when I began wearing long skirts, although the play had become somewhat amorous on his part.

      That afternoon, after some tumbling and much laughter, we had ended up sprawled on the grassy bank. I was flat on my back and his head was lost somewhere under my skirts. I whacked him with my fist to dislodge him, but I’m sure that the many layers of cloth stunted the blow because he continued to forage. His head nudged its way beneath my chemise and his teeth began to graze the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. An odd jolt ran the length of my body. I was so stunned and curious that I stilled, waiting for what might come next.

      He continued on his way, licking and nibbling, until he reached my sex, which he began to lave with his tongue. It was an odd sensation, wet and raspy, not unlike the kiss of a big dog. I laughed and whacked him again, but he held my hips and continued. I didn’t like the way his fingers dug into my hips or the afflicted way he was breathing. It sounded as though an ancient asthmatic was tangled beneath my skirts. I shoved him with all my might, kicked out at him and rolled away, leaving him panting a few yards off.

      To add to my discomfiture, he had unbuttoned his pants and his manly part protruded from the opening, thin but long and obviously aroused.

      ‘I need you,’ he panted. ‘I’ll come back for you, I promise. Just let me put it into you for a moment,’ he begged holding it in his right hand.

      ‘I’ve no desire to marry you, Henry Ledbetter,’ I said with a laugh. He was a fool and obviously thought I was one of his pack.

      ‘Well, you might at least lick it,’ he grimaced. ‘As I did you.’

      I rolled my eyes at him and began to stand.

      ‘Please,’ he begged. Henry was like that, always coaxing me to try something new, and while it might have resulted in a twisted ankle or having to hide under a heap of soiled hay, it was always interesting. So I’d crawled over to him and examined the offering. It looked relatively clean, rather pink really. I’d leaned in to smell it and in his eagerness he jabbed the knobby point at me, grazing a nostril. It was damp and smelled of heat, boy and, oddly enough, grass. It was not unpleasant so I licked it and found its saltiness appealing. I let the knob slip between my lips and Henry groaned. I liked the smooth round head so I sucked it as I would a lemon drop, savouring its shape and tartness. That is when his hand gripped my head and held me there while he thrust once, twice, and then he cried out as he erupted inside my mouth. Stunned, I had fallen back on my bum, as had he.

      But this was different. Although his fingers were threaded through my hair, he didn’t hold me stiffly as Henry had. He let me move, suck and taste him freely, only increasing the pressure when he especially liked the way my tongue or lips felt. Only then did he thrust into my mouth, and then it felt right, then I could suck him in earnest. I liked the way its smooth skin rode the roof of my mouth and the way he trembled against my lips. I liked the sounds that he made, husky moans of appreciation.

      ‘You’ve done this before?’ His voice was deep, throaty, almost hoarse.

      I nodded and then shook my head, but did not relinquish the firm morsel between my lips. It hadn’t been like this with Henry so I wasn’t sure whether it counted. I wondered: if I sucked him hard enough, would he erupt as Henry had? Would it taste the same, hot, creamy and somewhat sticky?

      His laugh was short and a bit strangled.

      ‘Have you ever had a man’s cock between your legs?’ he asked, as his fingers slipped through my hair to my scalp, cupping my head as though to hold me more firmly.

      That stopped me, the tip of the plum poised just between my lips. It was time to pull back, time to smooth my skirts down and scurry away. Had I been born male, I’d have had all manner of amorous adventures by now, but having been born female I knew and respected my limitations. Well, the most important ones. Although I had admittedly pressed the bar, I knew when to release it. As it stood, I didn’t really know this man or his limits and he didn’t know me. Based on my behaviour thus far, he had every right to believe that I was both experienced and loose – when in fact I’d vowed to save the finale for my marriage bed. Just how far would he press his advances? I couldn’t very well risk crying out and being caught in flagrante delicto. So I sucked at the rounded tip once more, my tongue tracing the moist dimple at its centre before relinquishing it. I could still feel its shape in my mouth as I pressed my forehead into the warm wool of his hard thigh. His hand still in my curls was gentle for a moment and then it fisted around a clump of hair.

      ‘A tease,’ he said, tugging me up by my head and hair, his palm gradually opening to firmly cup my scalp, directing me until I was on my feet and standing before him. ‘I should show you just what …’ His words were a harsh whisper, but he was buttoning his pants. When he was done, he took me by the arm and yanked me towards a plushly upholstered armchair, where he summarily pushed me head first over its thickly padded arm. Briefly, I flailed about with my arms outstretched and my hands grabbing clumsily at the cushions, struggling to regain my balance, frightened but more than a little curious. Layers of cloth fell heavily over my head as he plucked my skirts from where they had moulded to my bottom and then tossed them out of the way. A brief waft of cool air assailed my bare nether cheeks just as the sting of his hot palm began its assault again. Stunned, my sex twitched, but I squirmed, trying to burrow through the layers of skirt, eager to find light. My bottom burned from the barrage of angry smacks.

      ‘Un-mar-ried-girls-should-not-play-grown-up-games-with-men.’ A pointed slap accompanied each syllable.

      His fingers slid lower, slipping into the wetness that seemed to spill from between my legs and coat my sex. I could feel the heat suffusing my face. Discomfited, I struggled harder to free myself from my skirts, but a hand pressed, then neatly splayed against my waist to hold me in place. Another sting and then his fingers slowed, dipping low, sliding down along the swollen lips of my sex, lingering and exploring its slippery crevices. A finger and then a thumb found a particularly sensitive bit of flesh and began to strum it. Even as I tried to scoot away, he kept coming, finding and teasing the deep wet place until a series of waves like a sustained shiver began to rise from the place where his fingers tarried. I shivered as … tremors and icy tingles rose, just there, and there, wherever he touched, moments of incoherence, tiny knots of delirium … and then a tremulous pulse swooshed, rushing upwards and through my centre. I closed my eyes and tightened my thighs,