A Lady of Leisure & Pleasure Ch. 01

To Eve, With love and thanks for your inspiration.

*

I first met my betrothed the evening of my sixteenth birthday at a ball held in my honour. My father, Lord Randolf Montague Dashwood, presented me to him with his promise of my hand. Lord Carnborough, a rather rotund man lacking the height to correctly proportion his girth, was old and not particularly handsome, and I felt no great enthusiasm towards him. Becoming Lady Laura Jennifer Catherine Carnborough offered no special attraction to me.

I smiled and curtseyed, and his eyes never left mine as he bowed to kiss my gloved hand. Immediately I had the measure of his worth. Perhaps he thought me inadequately versed in the desires and intents of men, for he did nothing to hide the salacious gleam in his eyes as he drew them down and up again.

"A fine young lady," he loudly announced to my father, without taking his eyes from mine. "One who will without doubt grow to be a most beautiful woman." Letting go of my hand he straightened and turned once more to father and made mention of his plans to complete me in every way. Were I not a Lady I would surely have run from the hall in tears.

I knew Papa loved me with every beat of his heart, but this was not a marriage of love, this was one of politics and power, of industry and wealth, and I knew to still my tongue and hold my smile. Papa, in turn, knew he would hear of my displeasure at the first appropriate opportunity.

All my impassioned protestations the following morning did me little good however, although it did please me that Papa did his best to placate me. He told me I would not be forced to love the man, and our marriage could be conducted with a purely public sincerity, should I so choose.

There had been times such as these in my youth, although not quite of this nature, when I would sulk and pout were I not to get my own way. But I was becoming a woman, and I had learned quite early on in my life that the freedoms of the privileged were merely an illusion perpetuated in the minds of the less fortunate, and we in our turn were in fact no more free than they. We were just at greater liberty to indulge ourselves in other areas to compensate for it.

I told my father I would honour his promise without fuss. I would marry this man, Lord James Carnborough, I would accompany him to important functions, and to society appear ever the loving wife, but he would know not of every deception I would engage in.

For the next two years I studied in France, and learned much of the pleasures an adventurous young woman could be indulged in. I learned of the power of my beauty, how to entice a man with my eyes, my smile, the way I comported my curves. We taught one another, and used to great effect our skills to tease the gardeners who tended the grounds and boys we met during our outings into the town.

I knew to what extent to engage them in the sport of flirting, even if some of the girls did not. Men fascinated me, and the desire to experience all the enjoyments they had to offer burned as wildly within me as it did within my fellow students. Yet unlike not too few of the girls I was perfectly able to kindle those first flickers of desire into fiercely raging passions and then take delight in leaving them in quickened states of arousal as I made my excuses and flittered away with promises of more.

On my return to London I shared a joyous reunion with my father, which sadly was cut short after three days by the necessity of his occupation. My brother Matthew was at Oxford still, my cousins Elouise and Nathaniel were on a tour of the far east with my Aunt and Uncle, and I was, ostensibly, alone in the house. My mother had died when I was a small child, something which my father and uncle thought to one another should have affected me more than it did.

I was tended by my handmaid, cook saw to my meals, other servants and scullions performed their tasks, and John looked after us all. John had been with Father since he was a lad. Once a stable boy at our country retreat, Papa had offered him a position of butlers assistant when he became eighteen, and when Simmons died John took over his duties.

John had always held a fascination for me. I was sometimes fearful of him, not because I thought he would ever harm me, but because he had an air of mystery and danger to him. Papa was my ideal model of manhood, but John was the very next best thing. He was dark haired and handsome, tall, young and strong. No more than thirty years of age he was fit and in his peak, and I shall never forget the night I watched intently from my bedroom window, my heart fluttering wildly, as he rolled up his sleeves and fought off two would be burglars.

My wedding was still yet a month and a half away, many of my friends and their families were busying themselves with clandestine plans they thought me blissfully nascent to, and I was restless and eager to play. I called John into the drawing room and watched from beside the fireplace as he entered from the south door.

"I shall be going into town, John," I informed him and moved to sit on a lounge chair. His eyes watched my every step. I enjoyed the way he looked at me.

"You shall have to help me with my little boots," I said and sat back. He seemed to start forward, but then hesitated. The blood rushed in my veins. I held back a chuckle that unchecked would have cascaded forth. John knew not what to do; he had never dressed a Lady before, although I suspected he was experienced enough in divesting many a girl of her clothing.

"But Miss.. wouldn't your maid be a better one to be doing these things for you?" he asked. I sat upright, leaning forward slightly as though captivated by our conversation. There was an uneasiness in his voice; he no doubt sensed my mood and feared where it might lead. I adored his attitude, and did enough to assuage his fears.

"Kitty isn't here. If she were she would be fitting them as we speak. Cook cannot be trusted with the delicacy of my predicament. And I fear I would become uncomfortably diffident were I to indenture an unfamiliar maid to the task. No, only you can do it, John. You I trust implicitly." I drew a deep breath. It made my firm breasts rise and expand, then dip again, a motion which was not lost on him. My dress hugged tightly to my figure, and as though without conscious thought I smoothed a hand over my hip and down my thigh, accentuating my charms.

"Come, John," I said. My smile comforted him. He began forward. I knew his predicament; he feared any impropriety on his part would cost him his job should I wish to make fuss of it. But he was no fool when it came to the exchanges between a man and a woman, and he well knew of my Nature, for this was not the first time I had practised my sport on him.

I watched intently as he picked my boots up from beside the fireplace, bowed and knelt in front of me. For a moment I imagined him asking for my hand, and me saying yes. I softly chuckled. Before his eyes joined mine again he was rested on one knee and my boots were placed one either side of my feet. My heart was already fluttering and my breaths were coming that little bit shallower and quicker. I wanted him to know it, so did nothing to disguise my condition.

"I've never done this kind of thing before, Miss," he admitted. "..So I'm not really sure to what I should be doing."

"Oh John, I'm quite sure you know exactly what to do," I said coyly. His cheeks flushed red and again I fought the urge to laugh. Slowly, I lifted a foot. My dress began to slide down from my knee, revealing my thigh to his wanton eyes.

"Undo my straps," I said slowly, a slightly husky tone to my voice, "and take off my shoe." I lifted my foot high enough for him to take in his hands. Ever the gentleman and servant John was very careful with his actions as he slowly unwound the twin leather straps from around my calf, his eyes burning bright as he removed my shoe. Right at the last moment I twisted my foot and pulled it up to make my dress slip higher up my leg and reveal a glimpse of the frilly lace garter-strap around my left thigh.

I pretended not to notice as I put on an air of girlishness and giggled, telling him he tickled me and giving me the opportunity to push my foot from his hand and onto his thigh. I had tucked my fingers under my thighs, my arms were straightened at my sides, and I leant forward giggling as I slid my foot up his leg.

"Miss!" he exclaimed, bringing my laughter to an instant halt. I opened my eyes wide and looked down at him. The poor fellow looked most flustered. I pretended not to know why.

"What is it, my dear John?" I asked innocently.

"Your foot, Miss! ..it's..." he stuttered.

"It's what?" I asked and slid it fully between his legs. Before he could utter anything more I gasped, parting my lips as I looked at him. He looked guiltily back up at me for a moment, before casting his eyes to the floor.

"What ever can this be?" I said to myself as my toes squeezed the considerable swelling in his britches. "What is it, John?" I added quickly. He would have known my temperature to be rising as dramatically as his own. John remained still, even with the state I was getting him into. I wondered if his life long loyalty to our family might not have wavered beneath his desire to bend me over the lounger and show me exactly what the wonder presently beneath my toes was created for.

John remained at least half composed, his fealty unwavering. It bolstered my fondness of him. However, he was to be my introduction, whether it caused him confliction or not. I saw him as my playtoy, to practise on, without the dangers of men unrestrained by wealth and standing. If I could control him at his most impassioned, then I could perhaps guide the lusts of powerful men to my liking.

"Is it a trapped bird? It throbs so quickly beneath my foot! You must show him to me now." I pressed harder, squeezed and rubbed. The fellow surely did throb, and no doubt ached to be free of his confines.

"But Miss. I might get into trouble if I do," John said with worry in his voice. I would have to sooth his fears.

"It will be our little secret, you have my promise." I looked at him with sincerity, with yearning. I knew he would not resist. He looked round, as though afraid someone might come in.

"We are quite alone," I assured him. "Stand up and let me see." I took my foot away and sat back a little as I brought my hands to my lap. It was enough to spur him to his feet, and he stood before me in his finest livery; midnight black inlaid with deep velvet greens and glittering golds that caught the sun in a thousand different places as he moved. He looked so handsome.

"Let me do it," I urged as his hands began to move to his belt. He put them back to his sides. "Let me serve you," I added, knowing the effect such words from my lips would have on him. All my practices would now be tested, and I was eager to raise the stakes and take the game to loftier levels. I slowly unbuckled him and pushed open his trousers. They were tight around his hips and legs and I did after all need his help in freeing him. He sensed it and before I could look up at him his hands had pushed the waistband of his trousers past his hips and onto his thighs.

His limb jutted forth from between the tails of his shirt, pushing them asunder as I imagined it should like also to do to the moistening lips of my pussy. My first sight of it drew a sharp gasp from my open lips. It was well as thick as my wrist and a length comparable to my forearm. Curving upwards from the root it offered its ruby head to the heavens, proud of its design and dimension. Beneath hung the sack of sweets I knew to contain life's seed and wondered if I too, like the girls in my classmate's stories, would be showered in their nectar.

"Are you sure no one will catch us at it, Miss?" he asked. How was I know if anyone would, as he put it, catch us at it? But none the less I assured him of our security. I took a moment to savour the experience, and thought of the girls at the pensionnat. How proud they would be of me. How envious!

Clearly in a state of agitation John glanced fervently about, but still displayed his desire to initiate me. It seemed to overwhelm any sense of fear of being found undressed with the master's daughter. Before me his powerful staff throbbed obscenely, the veins pulsing to the quickened rush of his heart. His balls hung below like weighty plums, ready to anoint yet one more curious girl.

"How very proud he looks, John," I commented, leaning forward to study it closer. I pushed his shirt fully aside and noted the rough curls that narrowed upwards over his stomach.

"He is a fine one at that, Miss. All the lassies have said as much," he replied, unable to disguise his hauteur.

"I'm quite sure they have," I mused, and how right he was to be so pleased with himself. His scent was that of eroticism itself, desire incarnate, and every breath of his masculinity further aroused my pussy and sent a rush of tingles throughout my body.

I raised a hand and drew my fingers along its side. John stifled a harsh intake of breath, as I in turn cautioned the giggles within me. I curled my delicate little fingers around his fearsome instrument and drew the skin back then forth. It rolled up to cover almost half of the bulging head, and unfurled again to the motion of my hand to reveal it once more in all its majesty.

"Has Kitty told you how fine it is?" I asked as I looked up at him. John's face betrayed his guilt, but also revealed his frustration. I already knew every detail from my excited handmaid, but feigned ignorance as I sought to uncover his perspective of their recent little below stairs clinch.

"She..she likes a kiss, Miss, likes that a lot. That and more," John divulged. He fidgeted a little on the spot as I sat before him, my dainty hand clasping his thick member as far around as possible. I continued to stroke. Lifting my other hand I caressed, squeezed and weighed and tested his balls.

"Does she really? What else does she like?" I asked softly and used both hands upon his shaft. My face was close to his engorged crown. I had such a desire to kiss him.

"She likes bein' kissed, Miss, rubbed and felt too. But she wont let me tip her. I took it out for her once, told her what to call it 'n what to do with it. But I think it frightened her, and she scarpered."

I couldn't help giggling at his story. John was becoming increasingly breathless. I pouted my lips and pressed them sensuously to the head and kissed. Looking up at him again I kept my open lips to it for a moment more.

"Tell me what to call it, John," I said quietly, breathing hotly upon it. "Tell me what to do with it. Tell me as you told Kitty."

"Oh god, Miss! What if cook were to come?" he flustered.

"Cook has her own duties, as you have yours. You mustn't worry." I kissed more, again and again, tilting my head this way and that as I first pressed my lips and then caressed the smooth hot skin with my tongue. It glistened in the sheen of my saliva. I looked up to his eyes again and when I caught them in mine I repeated myself. "Tell me what to call it, and what I should do." Even though I was yet to experience the act I knew full well what to do, as night after night at the girls' school had taught me. I just enjoyed playing the game with the servants. John would not mind, in fact after today he would be very glad of my perilous pursuits.

"Oh Miss, what you're doin now is heaven. How you kiss my cock! You're so pretty! So beautiful!" John almost growled some of his words. His hands moved as though to take hold of my face, but then clenched and unclenched as they moved back to his sides. I revelled in my effect on him. Following his lead I kissed his 'cock' more. I knew the word, but my appearance was consequential and I had a duty to maintain my innocence. At least until it seemed I was in the process of being liberated.

"Oh John! Your cock is indeed fine!" In the urgency of my words I contrived to let my lips slip around the head and kept them there a moment as I sucked and licked.

"Mmm, Miss! Suck it too!" John panted. I held his staff in both hands and did as I was told. His status kept him from looking for too long a time into my eyes, but I so loved it when he did and looked up at him all the while I sucked and licked his handsome cock.

"Tell me what you meant when you said Kitty wouldn't let you 'tip' her," I said between fervent wet sucks. As he spoke I took the opportunity of his momentary distraction to experiment a little. I licked down one side of his shaft and up the other, rubbing his cock over my face. I slid my tongue over his heavy balls, sucking each in turn between my rosy lips as I stroked his magnificent shaft.

"I've had her up against the wall before, Miss. Was kissin' her and she was kissin' me back. She got more 'n more feisty, Miss. So I pulled up her skirt and got my hand between her legs."

"Oh John! What a rogue you are! What did she do?" I interjected, dipping my head to hide my humour before taking him in my mouth once more.

"She wriggled about, Miss. But I got my knee between hers and opened her legs. Panting her breath in my mouth she was when I got my fingers up her and gave her a proper fingering. Oh, Miss! Your wet little mouth is so nice on it! I kept at it 'til she got those feelings girls get." I did my best not to chuckle. John continued.

"After that she was out of breath and her cheeks were a proper shade of red, Miss. She was wet all over." He himself, I noted with amusement, was currently in an equal state of arousal.

"When I was doing it to her I took her hand 'n pressed it on my cock, made her rub it through my trousers. After a time I let go of her wrist and she kept rubbing, so when I took it out for her to have a go on I thought she'd be up for it. But she protested. Said it was too big and got all scared. Then she ran, Miss. Upstairs to you she went."

John's words were punctuated by his heavy breathing and gasping, and the occasional groan. His cock had seemed to swell in my grip as my hands sped back and forth and I wondered if I was soon to receive recompense for my industriousness.

"Kitty is very loyal, John. And you know she has long been my favourite, ever since we were little girls together. It pleases me that the two of you are becoming so close. Perhaps you'd like me to prepare her for you?" I offered, pausing a moment in my play.

"Would you, Miss? Oh, I do like her so!"

"I will talk to you about it very soon, John, and you will do exactly as I say to ensure your conquest of her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss! I'll always do everything you say right to the letter." He was right on the edge of intensity. It was obvious even to the most recent of initiates. I sucked as much of his monstrous limb as my mouth would comfortably accept, while I clasped my hands together around his shaft and masturbated him.

"Oh Miss! I'll come if you don't stop!" he warned urgently. I did not stop. I wanted to experience all. I wanted him just as he had wanted my handmaid, and I would have him such. But first I wanted to watch. I needed first to see for myself how this powerful instrument would affect the treasures that awaited it between the legs of women.

Kitty was perfect for the task. She was my trusted handmaid and I was rather fond of her. She shared her name with one of my own, although the childish shortening of it harked back to when we were little girls together and she slept in a kitten costume while I slept as a bunny. I tended to indulge her, and allowed her greater liberty and familiarity than her position warranted. I knew of her soft spot for John, so I had no doubt she would welcome his advances. I would just need to pick my moment to sacrifice her to his lust.