Page 34 of What a Courtesan Wants
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, recognizing the shift in the atmosphere moving them from lady and escort to master and submissive.
“You will wear it beneath your gown for the entire evening. It will be removed when we return from the opera. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, growing breathless as she watched him test the clamps, pressing each one open and letting them snap shut.
“Turn around.”
She obeyed with haste, anticipation and excitement spurring her on. The worry she had over the evening temporarily forgotten, she stood still as he began opening the back of her gown and then loosening her stays with deft movements. Aubrey circled her with slow, measured steps. Her breasts rose and fell with heavy, uneven breaths as he lifted them free of her undergarments to expose her nipples.
He lowered his head, flicking at one with his tongue before closing his mouth around it. Lucinda pinched her lips together on a moan, letting her head fall back as he suckled the tip of her breast into a stiff peak before pulling away and affixing the first clamp. She sucked in a sharp inhale as the bite of the clamp around her nipple sent a sharp jolt of pain through her breast. It radiated down her body, ending in a brilliant burst right between her legs. Her clit throbbed, as did her left nipple, compressed between the flat sides of the clamp. She found herself grateful that he hadn’t used a set with teeth, which would bite and cause even more pain.
By the time the sharp pinch had dulled to a pleasurable throb, he had moved on to the other, treating it like he had the first before capturing it in the snare of the clamp. He stood back to study her, mouth curving in a pleased grin as he reached out to cup a breast, giving it a little shake and producing a tinkling sound with the chain.
“You’ve the most succulent nipples I’ve ever seen. I could spend an entire night just toying with them.”
She gasped as he gave one of the nipples a pinch, agitating the clamp and sending another lightning bolt into her core.
“Th-thank you, Sir.”
He pulled at her chemise and stays, creating a bit of space between the garments and her body to drop the long tendril of the chain down into her clothes. The cool metal kissed her belly, the third clamp falling into the cleft between her thighs.
“Lie down and spread your legs.”
It took her a moment to comply with the command, her mind swimming in intoxicating ecstasy. When she reclined on a nearby settee and hitched up her skirts, allowing her knees to fall open, Aubrey promptly fell to his knees. He prowled between her legs, bracing both hands on her inner thighs and spreading her wider. Lucinda let her head fall back, issuing a throaty groan as he flattened his tongue against her, dragging it from the slit of her opening, over delicate pink folds and then the swollen nub of her pleasure. His hands massaged the insides of her thighs, his lips closing around her in sucking pulls. She writhed in his clutches, legs shaking as he lapped and suckled at her. Lucinda pried her eyes opened and feasted on the sight of him between her legs—seemingly in a position of supplication on his knees, yet still utterly in control of her. Each sigh and groan, each flutter of pleasure, each drop of moisture coaxed forth from deep within her—all of it for him.
Lucinda arched and bit her lip to keep from crying out when her culmination felt imminent, her insides heating and fluttering with a warning of what was to come.
“Sir, I … I need to …please!”
Aubrey tore his mouth away from her just before she spent, making her climax die a swift and painful death. Her cunt clenched with need, her little nub swollen and throbbing for want of his mouth again.
Panting and clutching at the cushions, she gave him a pleading look.
“Please, let me spend.”
“No,” Aubrey replied, taking up the third clamp and pressing it between two fingers before using his opposite hand to spread her lower lips. The pink protrusion of her clit appeared, and he snared it in the clamp before letting go.
She wailed, forgetting the servants who might be hovering just outside the doors, the sharp jolt of pleasure-pain that raced through her almost enough to produce a stunning climax. Almost. She shook from head to toe, her body quaking for a release that she had been cruelly denied.
Aubrey closed her legs, and the compression of her thighs sent more of the fluttering spasms through her, but it wasn’t enough. She needed his mouth, his hands, his cock.
But Aubrey was rising to his feet and pulling her up along with him, setting her clothing to rights. The pressure of her stays made the clamps dig into her breasts, her nipples taking up an insistent throb matching the rhythm of that thrumming in her clit.
“When you’ve made it through this evening, climax will be your reward,” he told her while fastening the back of her gown. “Think about that when you are walking into that theater. Hold your head high and command respect. You are a countess and you deserve every bit of deference you are due as such. The earl’s death has not taken that from you.”
He turned her to face him, using his fingertips to lift her chin. She met his gaze, finding compassion and arousal warring in the whisky-hued irises.
“Try to enjoy the evening.”
It would be difficult with the clamps making her all-too aware of her most intimate places, but better she went through the night thinking about when he’d allow her to come off, than worrying over who was watching her and what they might be whispering about the country girl turned countess.
This was what she needed to do, and not just so she could be of help to young Elizabeth. Lucinda needed to do this for herself, for Magnus who had urged her to make a new life without him once he was gone. The time had come for her to determine just what that new life would entail.
Aubrey offered his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her to the entrance hall, where a footman waited with a fur-trimmed mantle and a pair of gloves. The chill of the evening kissed her cheeks as they departed the house to his waiting carriage. As she clung to his forearm, staring up at the unusually clear night and experiencing the bite of the fall evening air, Lucinda felt more alive than she had in two long years.
Their outingto the opera proved to be a success, as they’d adhered to Aubrey’s plan to arrive late and leave a bit early. Despite entering not long after the performance had begun, hundreds of pairs of eyes lit on them as they took their places in Dominick’s private box. Aubrey helped her into her seat before taking his own beside her. The hairs on her nape had stood on end as murmurs rippled through the crowd, a few ill-mannered people even going so far as to point. Reaching out to rest a hand atop hers, Aubrey had quieted her racing mind without a single word, his gaze fixed on the stage and the elaborately costumed soprano singing in Italian. He seemed as accustomed to such scrutiny as she ought to be after years as a countess, posture erect, head tilted just so, face displaying a mask of affected boredom. Lucinda followed his lead, being out of practice, but soon remembered the way of it.
None of it mattered. Not their gossip and speculation over why she’d finally come out of mourning, nor their inevitable questions about her association with Aubrey. She was out in public for the first time in a very long while, and a rather riveting opera was taking place on stage. The company only enhanced the evening, and Lucinda drew comfort from Aubrey’s steady, strong presence.
