The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) (9 page)

The party had progressed while Julian and I had been in our corner, and now there was even more evidence of the hedonism that the Baron’s house was so famous for. As I stood and rearranged my skirts, I watched as a dancing couple moved over to a table and the woman was unceremoniously bent over and fucked by her partner. Men knelt before women, women knelt before men, and noises of pleasure—sighs, groans, the unique sound of slick flesh—now vied with the music and laughter for prominence.

Julian only had eyes for me, however, and he grabbed my upper arm and jerked me out of the alcove, his fingers digging into my bicep. He’d buttoned his trousers, but it did little to hide the magnificent erection bulging there, although he didn’t seem to care—or notice as people stared at it hungrily.

I assumed we were going upstairs, but he stopped me at the ballroom steps, making me stand on the lowest one while he stayed on the ballroom floor. The extra six inches meant that I was now exactly at his height, able to stare into his emerald eyes and see the wicked intent glinting there. A trickle of fear triggered a flood of lust. Yes. I was doing the right thing. This is what I wanted.

“Raise your skirts, Ivy,” he ordered, the tortured tenderness from earlier gone. He was the teacher once again, commanding and stern. My whole body surged with want at that sternness.

I obeyed him, lifting my skirts to my knees, exposing my silk stockings.

“To your waist,” he corrected me.

A crowd was starting to gather around us, drunk guests, sober guests, all watching the legendary Julian Markham finally bring his wayward fiancée to heel. I gathered that somehow we were the main event, that Julian was important among them, and that they were tacitly invited to my subjugation.

This was hard. I’d forgotten how hard it was to obey sometimes. But I did it, hoping that the silk and lace hid my trembling as I raised my skirts higher, knowing that my naked sex was now visible to the crowd.

There were murmurs, but Julian ignored them as he once again freed his thick organ. With one hand wrapped around himself and his other arm seizing me around the waist, he pulled me close and entered me in one rough thrust. We’d never fucked like this before, and the angle was new and strange and I needed a minute to adjust—

But there was no time to adjust because then he took my leg and slung it over his arm, widening his access to me and also exposing even more of me to the crowd. He slid in and out with long, sure strokes, keeping me balanced as he showed everyone in the ballroom whom I belonged to.

“Do you see them watching you?” he said in a low voice as he continued to fuck me. “They’re watching your pussy stroke my cock. They’re watching your tits push against your dress. They want to fuck you too. They want to pass you around and take turns with you, to mark you like property.”

I moaned. It was a thought I would never entertain in my right mind, but I wasn’t in my right mind, not with that thick cock stroking me with its slow, inexorable strokes, and right now, I would consent to anything. If Mr. Markham willed it, I would let myself be taken by this crowd of strangers and I would come on cock after cock, all while he watched.

“Lucky for you, I’m too much a jealous man,” he said. “Your cunt and your ass—they’ll only ever know my cock. But other mouths? Other hands?”

The crowd surrounded us now, and I hadn’t realized that Helene and Adella were behind me, until I heard Adella’s melodic Gallic accent as she told me to hold still. I turned to see what was happening, and then I realized that the girls were undressing me, tugging my dress off my body, and then Mr. Markham pulled out of me, leaving me empty and wanting, but there was no way I could protest because then he was kissing my mouth as they continued to strip me out of my clothes.

Mr. Markham unknotted his tie as he kissed me, and then he pulled back so that Helene could tug at the ribbon holding my mask in place. I hadn’t realized how protected it had made me feel, having my face partially shielded from view, but once it was gone, I felt more exposed than ever, even though I was already next to naked.

My corset went last, and so I stood in my stockings, my hair still perfectly coiffed, feeling the cool air kiss the wet skin between my thighs and I knew that everyone could see my arousal. I only hoped that
everyone
didn’t include my poor aunt, but the thought evanesced as soon as it came, irrelevant, unwanted. My only job, my one task, was to be right here, doing Mr. Markham’s bidding. I didn’t have to worry about anything else, because I knew that he would take care of me. He would make sure I was safe.

He wound his tie around his hand and unwound it, his jaw tight as he surveyed me. “Now it’s time to pray to be forgiven,” he said, unwinding the length of silk for the last time. “Now it’s time to show me how contrite you really can be.” He stepped backward, clearing a space for me on the ballroom floor. I followed him.

“Kneel, wildcat.”

I knelt.

He walked behind me and then the silk tie rasped over my skin, settling with a cool weight over my eyes and the bridge of my nose. The world went completely dark as it was tied tightly at the back of my head. I heard him walking around me, examining me, and then his low baritone as he was in front of me once more.

“Open your mouth.”

I did as I was told, parting my lips in welcome. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, then pulled it down so my mouth was open even wider.

I was given no warning, no hint, when he abruptly pushed into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. I willed myself to relax, not to gag, as he moved in and out. I could taste myself on him, smell our clandestine intimacy on his skin, and when I thought about how it must look—me, naked and blindfolded and kneeling, and him, masked and thrusting into my mouth, I grew almost desperate with the need for…for something. It was to be fucked, yes, but it was also to fuck, to give pleasure as well as receive it, and nothing sounded more delicious than making Julian come with my mouth and my tongue. I loved the noises he made when he was close, the way his stiff cock grew even larger in that potent, intoxicating moment right before he released. I always felt like a goddess then; like in the end, he had been the one to surrender somehow, even though it was me who was bound and exposed.

I bobbed my head faster, flattening my tongue against him, and I was rewarded by his hands threading through my hair and pulling it hard as he took control and started fucking my mouth with a ruthless, almost cruel pace. I heard one, two, three hairpins drop to the marble floor as he twined his fingers tighter and tighter around my tresses, and I also heard the breathless whispers and sex noises of the crowd around us.

And just as I thought he was careening over the edge, when I was sure that he would drive into my mouth one final time and erupt, he was gone—his cock out of my mouth, his hands off my head. He’d been almost holding me up by my hair and so I fell forward onto my hands, on all fours now.

Julian bent down and whispered in my ear. “I’ve been saving myself for you, Ivy. When I come, I’m not wasting it on your mouth. When I come, I want to be deep inside of you and I want your pussy tight and swollen around me then. So let’s get that cunt ready for me, shall we?”

“It’s ready now,” I said. I tried to rise up on my knees but was pushed back down. His hand was warm against the center of my back, pressing down on the spot in between my shoulder blades and running along the curve of my back. I froze when it reached my tailbone and it stopped for a minute, and then he trailed a deliberate track down to my quivering cunt. My cunt, which everybody could see.

His voice went even quieter. “Does this embarrass you, wildcat? Does it humiliate you?”

I nodded.

“Then why are you so wet?” His fingers danced over my drenched folds, prodding and pressing.

“You know why,” I whispered.

“Yes, I do know.”

And then he smacked my ass so hard I saw stars.

I planned on testing Ivy’s limits tonight, but I was truly the one being tested right now. I had almost come in her sweet mouth, and God, I had wanted to. Seeing her blindfolded like that, on her knees and waiting with her mouth open at my command…and then feeling the eyes of the crowd on us as I relentlessly fucked her mouth…

But even though I knew I’d be able to get hard as many times as I wanted—Ivy had that effect on me—I wanted to suffer alongside her. Since I was making her endure my discipline, I would endure along with her, and I would make sure that I didn’t come until she’d been thoroughly sated. Until I’d made up for all the time we’ve lost. Until her body well and truly remembered its master.

It was not easy.

Like right now. She was on all fours, her knees spread apart so that her glistening cunt was free for anybody to see. It took all of my willpower to keep from kneeling behind her and sliding inside. But I didn’t. Instead, I raised my hand back and slapped her ass, the sound cracking through the ballroom like a whip. I stood up, my erection tugging at every nerve in my pelvis, and turned to Silas.

“The dining room,” he said calmly. He was as gifted at self-control as I was, although for a different reason. I used self-discipline as a method to satisfy my whims—by controlling myself, I almost always got what I wanted at the end. Silas simply didn’t know how to be anything but polite and jovial, even when he was coming all over a woman’s face.

I nodded my agreement. And then I bent down so Ivy could hear me clearly. “You may stand now.”

She obeyed, getting to her feet, her legs shaking slightly. Her nipples were tight jeweled points and there was a blush high in her cheeks. It wouldn’t be long after I let the others touch her that she would come.

I took her hand in mine and led her past the observers in the direction of the dining room. Some followed, some returned to what they had been doing, entertained by the spectacle but not intrigued enough to participate. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if there were two hands on Ivy or two thousand, I would still make sure that every iota of pleasure was wrung from her body tonight.

She followed me almost meekly, the blindfold inhibiting her normally confident steps, and I was careful to steer my wildcat around obstacles and people, stopping only when we reached the dining room. Dominated by a massive table, the dining room was empty of guests and food, the table completely cleared of the remnants of supper.

“I’m going to pick you up and lay you down,” I told her. She nodded, looking so sweetly confused and eager that I couldn’t help but kiss her right then, letting my lips linger on hers. Then I lifted her easily and laid her on the table.

The cold wood against her back and legs sent goose bumps racing over her skin and I watched them hungrily, wanting to lick her pebbled flesh, to bite it. She looked perfect like this, her breasts round globes, her back arched in such a way that I could slide my hand under her lower back without ever touching her skin.

There were twenty or thirty people around the table now, and I recognized every face among them. Most of them were good friends, some were acquaintances, but all were people I’d trust to touch my pet. The Baron didn’t allow cruelty or selfishness in his house, and as a result, he’d cultivated a set of people who both flouted the sensibilities of the outside world but respected individual boundaries. But still, I felt like I needed to clarify.

“Tonight, my fiancée has returned to me,” I told them. I put a hand on Ivy’s bare stomach, loving how the soft flesh trembled underneath my fingertips. “And I am so happy.” Stupidly, my words cracked, and I swallowed the emotion back down. “But tonight, I remind her who she belongs to. Does anyone have something I can bind her with?”

Rhoda and Zona, the blonde twins, both hastily unfastened their silk sashes, and Silas offered up his tie. With their help, soon I had Ivy’s legs tied to the bottom corners of the table and her right arm to the top. I turned to look for another sash or tie, and found Lord Gravendon standing behind me, quietly offering his own cravat.

I gave him a smile in thanks and then finished tying Ivy to the table. The position of her arms above her head made her breasts jut higher and her back arch more. Her legs were spread farther apart, and from here, I could catch the barest glimpse of her rosy seam, just begging to be fucked.

“You may touch and kiss as much as you’d like,” I told the guests. “I only ask that I be the only one to fuck her.”

And then I stepped back. As soon as my hand left her, she visibly tensed, and I knew this was something that both scared and secretly delighted her, the strangeness of having many mouths and hands on her, the vulnerability of being exposed and exhibited.

Silas was the first to step forward, with a wink at me, and then he leaned down and whispered briefly in her ear. I saw her relax the slightest bit. She trusted Silas; he was a known—and charmingly kind—quantity. He told her something else as his hand brushed lightly over her stiffened nipples and she gasped, squirming unconsciously toward the stimulation. Soon others came closer, caressing her limbs and dropping kisses on sensitive sections of flesh. Spikes of jealousy flashed through me, sending jolts of arousal straight to my groin. It was delicious torture, watching this, watching others tease her into arousal and then coax that arousal into climax. It made me feel violent and possessive and so very, very in love at the same time. It was like the pain and envy highlighted the lines and borders of my feelings for her, like a contrasting dye on fabric, making every sensation sharper and more vivid.

Ah, never mind. I couldn’t even properly explain it to myself. Who can ever really explain the parameters of lust? Or what sparks arousal? By its very nature, it doesn’t make sense logically or empirically. It’s something that speaks to the deepest parts of our minds and bodies, something that bypasses reason, societal mores, and even our sense of shame. All I knew was that I was ravenous with the desire to watch Ivy come on this table, and come hard.

“She’s quite beautiful,” the Baron murmured.

“She is,” I agreed, watching her hands grip their ties as someone finally brushed against her pussy.

Gravendon put a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you’ve finally found happiness, Julian. You deserve it.”

I looked at this man, my mentor in so many things. Though he was only older than me by a few years, he had already been completely settled and secure in his desires and practices when I met him as a young man, still reeling from Arabella’s death. It was as if while the rest of us had to wrestle and realize and continually rediscover who we were, Gravendon had simply sprung from the ground fully formed, a muscled god of sex and power. He had found me, grieving and confused by these impulses that I couldn’t control, and had shown me his world. It was then that I saw who I really was, what I couldn’t deny myself being. He had helped shape me more than my parents.

I answered, “Yes, I think I finally have.”

“Good.” He said it warmly, with great affection. “And anyway, her aunt is asleep in my bed, and I very much would like to have that be a repeat occurrence. So you’re not allowed to alienate her niece.” He smiled the smile of a man who’d just discovered a new treasure.

“You and Esther…” I had been right after all. She was one of us.

As if reading my thoughts, Gravendon said, “Yes. She’s quite a treat. A natural submissive, a true submissive. I only have to speak and she can’t help but to act.” There was an uncharacteristic tenderness in his eyes that I rarely saw when he talked about his partners—generally the Baron only engaged in sex, not anything resembling emotional attachment. “She’s never been properly taken care of before. She nearly cried with happiness afterward.” He shook his head. “It was quite gratifying.”

“Congratulations. That’s quite a conquest.”

“It was unexpected, to say the least. I plan on asking her to return. Or to stay.” He looked over at Ivy, who was now panting. “May I?” he asked.

“Be my guest.”

He smiled at the irony and walked over to the table. Ivy seemed to sense there was something different about his touch, because she froze as he moved a wide hand from her neck, down between her breasts, to her cunt, which he cupped hard.

She wriggled, trying to get closer, and he gave a small smirk. “She’s greedy,” he told me.

“Don’t I know it.”

He pushed a finger inside of her and then another. She jolted at the contact and then moaned as he started in earnest. I knew from many years of playing side by side with him that this was something he excelled at. I knew that in only a few moments, she’d be shaking and screaming.

And after she was finished, I was taking her upstairs. And making her mine once more.

“Do you feel that, wildcat? You have a peer of the realm touching you right now. He’s going to make you come with the same hand that has written to princes and kings. He’s going to fuck your hole with his fingers, and everybody is going to watch him do it.”

Julian’s voice was low in my ear, and his words were like a stimulant to my already over-stimulated body. There were mouths on my breasts, on my fingers and stomach, and then the hand that was on my pussy. It was the hottest, wickedest hand I’d ever felt, because it carried none of the tenderness or regard that always resonated in Julian’s touch. It was selfish and demanding and I knew without a doubt that I was being touched only because it pleased this person to do so, not because he particularly cared about pleasing me.

And it was relentless, the pleasure it brought with it sharp and sudden and almost uncomfortable. I tried to move away, but the bindings on my hands and feet made it impossible. The fingers slid in and then slid back out, the palm grinding against my clit as they did, in and out, in and out, over and over again until there was nothing but slickness and fire between my legs.

I could feel it building and building, and I began not to care how I looked or what I sounded like or what the people around me thought. I was caught up in the tide of pleasure, that peculiar release that only comes with surging past the waterline of humiliation. I was now shamelessly trying to grind my pussy into the man’s hand, trying to arch my back to get even closer to the mouths on my breasts.

“That’s it,” Julian said. “Let them make you come. Let them see how sweet that body looks when it’s coming.”

“I’m—I’m going to,” I managed, feeling the muscles in the soles of my feet cramp as my body twined tighter and tighter. “I’m going to come, oh God—”

And then I did, surging against my bonds as my core collapsed and exploded outward, mercilessly provoked by those demanding fingers between my legs, provoked into coming harder and longer and more fiercely than I thought my body could stand. And the people around me kept going, drawing still more waves and tremors from me, until finally I stopped struggling, unable to do anything but lay back and feel.

“Good girl,” said Julian. “Very good.”

And indeed, my pussy was given a rewarding stroke, much in the way one would affectionately caress a well-behaved animal.

“Now, another one.”

“No,” I said, trying pointlessly to roll away. “I can’t, I can’t—”