Chapter 40
A knock came at the door, and I flinched.
I had only meant to offer a courteous greeting. Yet somehow, I now found myself still in Millicent's study on my knees stroking her monstrous cock, my mouth parted wide and tongue out. She leaned against her desk with her gown bunched above her breasts, biting her lower lip and looking positively girlish.
"Wait," she called out with maddeningly perfection despite the fact that her thighs were twitching from my touch.
I picked up my strokes and slide a few fingers behind her cock to rub that sweet spot I knew would undo her.
"Mmm!" she gasped, her body convulsing as she tried to muffle herself.
I pushed forward just in time to capture her spill. My clitoris fluttered violently. I swallowed at once or I would end up choking, because even without visible testicles, the sheer volume she produced was unholy. They must be hidden somewhere inside her. There is no other explanation.
As the final wave pulsed into me, I grabbed my cane and rose quickly. She adjusted her drawers and let her dress fall like nothing had happened at all. I was about to flee when she caught my left hand, interlaced our fingers, and calmly sat herself in her chair as composed as a queen.
"Enter," she called out.
I blushed. Her cock barely settled, and my lips still taste of sin. She had never once shied away from intimacy, not even in the presence of her staff. Her sense of shame must have died in the cradle.
Issac stepped in and gave a polished bow before the desk. "Marquess Anthony Lorynthall inquires after his daughter's health. He states that, should she be recovered, he would like to visit and offer his thanks before escorting her home."
Well, that was unexpected. I had assumed my ever-angelic father had sold me to Millicent. Turns out, he did not. I suppose I must now adjust my opinion of him from "soulless devil" to "flawed disappointment."
"Leave us. I shall call you back shortly," Millicent said smoothly.
Issac bowed and vanished. Millicent turned to me and led me to the sofa, where we sat.
"Florence," her voice softened, shaded with something dangerously close to guilt. "Following the close of the Vaneeri ball, I approached your father with a proposal. Given the state of your health, I suggested that you remain here as my guest to convalesce. It had been over a decade since you last dwelled at your family estate, and I believed quite genuinely that a change of setting might serve your recovery. But if I am to speak without the veil of courtesy, I must admit there was more to it than concern. You delighted me, Florence. In truth, I acted as much out of selfishness as care. I did not wish to let you go."
I stared at her, deadpan. This woman.
"I sincerely apologize," she said, rubbing her thumb gently over my hand, eyes lowered as though she were moments from mourning.
My heart skipped.
"As much as I desire your continued presence here, if it is your wish to return… I shall not place myself in your path."
The image of Cecilia's lower back laced with whip marks came at me like a punch. So did the thought of never waking to Millicent's embrace again.
Firstly, Cecilia was safe here. Secondly, Millicent had thoroughly ruined me, and now she had the audacity to let me go? I should slap that noble face of hers.
"I am staying," I said sharply.
Her crimson eyes flicked to mine, startled.
Her lips seized mine in a frenzy, and I toppled back onto the sofa with a breathless gasp. Our mouths moved in wild hunger, breaths tangled, and my body lit with sparks. My sex ached with maddening need.
"Stay," she whispered against my lips, "with me, forever."
She descended swiftly, lifting my skirts and peeling away my drawers. I parted my legs, eager for her. She kissed my already soaked clitoris and my body shuddered at the touch. My back arched, chest heaving.
Her tongue moved in slow circles over my pearl while her fingers massaged my wet slit.
"Uhn…" I moaned, unable to hold still.
She spread my entrance open and rapidly flicked her tongue against my pearl. Her fingers worked fast, coaxing my juices out in shameless streams.
"Mmm… argh… haugh…" I gripped her hair and tilted my hips, pressing myself to her mouth, demanding more.
Her lips parted wider. Her tongue dipped lower, teasing my entrance before rising again to my twitching bud. She sucked it into her mouth.
"Agh!" I cried out, writhing beneath her as pleasure consumed me.
Her fingers parted my folds to reveal my pearl, no doubt swollen and proud by now. My body trembled uncontrollably, the pleasure unseating all reason. Her thumb teased my entrance, pressing in just a touch. I jolted backward at the intrusion.
Without pause, she returned her mouth to my pearl, tongue gliding downward to my entrance, licking and drinking from me as her fingers toy with my bud.
"Eut… haaa... Y-Your Grace … come here," I gasped, stars dancing at the edge of my vision.
She straddled me in reverse as her tongue and fingers continued. I slid her dress to her waist and freed her cock from the slit in her drawers. She was dripping. I opened my mouth and let it fall in, tasting her on my tongue.
She nibbled at my pearl, and a violent wave coursed through me.
"Ah!" I cried out, her spill striking my cheek. Her tongue pressed against my hardened bud, yet it slipped each time. Again and again, it returned. I was desperately close. I whimpered and she resumed flicking the needy organ. In turn I gripped her cock, pulled it down to my mouth, sucking her crown and stroking her fast.
My hips moved on their own, grinding against her lips, thighs trembling with effort. We moaned into each other's flesh, our sounds tangled and hungry. Her cock swelled in my mouth, and I quickened my strokes.
Her warmth spilled into my throat just as my own climax burst from me, my juices surging out as my mind slipped from its tether and vanished into bliss.
One evening beneath the great oak, I stood trembling, pressed against its bark as her tongue danced wickedly between my thighs. Amidst the chaos of pleasure, a most curious question struck me.
"Y-Your Grace… haa… eut… who else knows you are in possession of a dragon's cock?"
She paused mid-lick, looked up, then answered by punishing my pearl with a most unholy suck.
"Uhm!" I cried out. It was divine. So perhaps not a punishment at all.
"You truly called it that?" she asked, smirking.
"Well, it warrants a name of legend," I replied, beaming with no shame whatsoever.
She smiled as her thumb circled my pearl once more. My legs nearly buckled.
"My father, my mother, and Dr. Falconbridge know without question," she said calmly. "As for others… perhaps. I have never hidden it, though I see no value in parading it either. No one has dared inquire."
"Likely they fear decapitation."
"A sound theory," she said, then replaced her thumb with her tongue.
Back then, summer at last came to an end, autumn arrived swiftly and departed just as quickly, and winter loomed on the horizon. In those fleeting days, Millicent and I had shared countless intimate moments. Her lips had traced every inch of my skin, and I had worshipped her in kind. Beneath the moonlight in the garden, hidden away behind the tall hedges, we kissed, we lingered, our hands exploring with unspoken reverence. In the washroom, in the bedchamber, upon the balcony where the evening breeze dared to cool our fevered bodies, on that very desk where she penned her letters with such meticulous precision, there was no place within the estate that did not bear witness to our passion. We indulged in every wicked delight, save for direct penetration. She had always respected my decision.
Riding was an impossibility for me, yet that did not deter her. Surrendering to such limitations was simply not in Millicent's nature.
"Why not?" she had asked one afternoon as her deft fingers began unfastening the buttons of my dress. She stood behind me before the grand standing mirror, her crimson gaze meeting mine through the glass, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Millicent, the reason is obvious," I said, casting her a look of weary resignation.
"Nothing should keep you from enjoying life." The last button came undone and my dress slid from my shoulders.
My gaze flickered to the two matching riding ensembles displayed on the hanger stand beside us. Deep crimson, rich as her eyes, adorned with intricate golden embroidery. Their design was nothing short of majestic.
"I only mentioned yesterday that riding looked enjoyable when I watched Cecilia," I admitted. "I did not expect you to take it as an actual suggestion. I will never be able to steady myself. Why not allow me to watch you ride instead?"
Did this woman truly wish to see me confined to a wheelchair for life? Was it her secret ambition to watch me topple from a horse? How unspeakably cruel. And here I thought she fancied me.
She moved closer, her arms circling me in a gentle embrace. "If you wish to ride, then ride you shall," she whispered. "If you keep thinking you cannot, then you never shall. The impossible only remains so until one dares to challenge it."
My heart stirred at her words.
"We shall pick out a gentle horse together," she continued. "And we shall ride together. I will hold you. I will keep the pace slow."
A slow warmth spread through my chest, melting away the hesitation I had clung to. This woman, this infuriating, insufferable woman had an uncanny way of making me believe in things I had long dismissed as unreachable.
And so, we rode together atop the same steed, one of her hand around me, securing me in place. The other hand held the reins with practiced ease, guiding the horse into the Vaneeri Forest.
"Checked!" I beamed.
Behind me, she chuckled. "Hmm, care to elaborate?"
"Checked, as in marking this off my list of things I have always wished to do!" I declared triumphantly.
"Checked as well," she murmured.
I tilted my head slightly, intrigued. "And why are you checking? You have ridden horses before."
"Checked," she repeated. "Because it has long been my desire to share a mount with you."
I felt the warmth rising to my face.
Before I could form a response, she whispered, "Look."
I turned my gaze forward. Standing ahead was an elegant vixen-a white fox, its coat gleaming beneath the sunlight. I had only ever seen them in books, never in the flesh. My breath caught at the sight, admiration swelling within me.
"A vixen," Millicent mused. "Staring at another vixen."
I turned my head slightly, confused by her words, only for my lips to be met with hers in a swift and mischievous kiss.
"Are you calling me a vixen?"
"Indeed."
We had walked together on many paths-cobblestone streets, quiet garden trails, stretches of land where the sky seemed to touch the earth. When my strength inevitably failed, when my leg could bear no more but I still wished to remain by her side, she never hesitated. With a simple gesture, her servants would bring forth a lavish wheelchair, one that had seemingly become a permanent fixture in whichever carriage accompanied us.
She would have shouted our relationship to the world if I had allowed it. I was certain of that. There was a boldness in her, an utter disregard for the whispers of society. Yet I was afraid for her. She was a duchess, a woman whose name carried weight, whose reputation was not hers alone but tied to a lineage that spanned generations. I feared what the world would say, how they would look at her should our closeness be known. And so, I requested that if ever questioned, she would claim that I was merely a respected guest at her estate.
She did not like it. But she respected my wish, though I knew it pained her to do so. And so, we continued our charade. A duchess and her guest. A deception, a shield against the world's scrutiny.
But there were moments where I would catch her gaze, see the defiance lingering there. As if to say, I will not play this game forever.
That rule, however, existed only beyond the walls of Vaneeri Estate. Within them, there was no pretense. The staff knew precisely what transpired between us, knew what we did beneath the privacy of silken sheets. To my surprise, rather than disdain, I was met with kindness. Whether it stemmed from genuine goodwill or from their loyalty to Millicent, I never truly determined.