Yvain had asked her Seigneur if he wanted her to pleasure him. With her mouth, as he had just made her come with his. She expected that she would be thrashed many times while she learned this skill. She not only never had a man’s cock in her mouth, in her life so far; she had never even thought of such a thing.
She lay on her back, thighs fallen apart, her cunt wet, exposed, happy but not sated. She thought about her Seigneur on his back, his hard cock upright, and kneeling over him to take that cock in her mouth. That combination, subservience, the certainty of punishment to help her learn to please him, and the knowledge that even though she was a novice she would please him: those things excited her. Yearned for.
The Seigneur read something of that in her face. He smacked her cunt, firmly but not painfully with his hand. She moaned a little at that contact. Anything and everything felt wonderful.
The Seigneur said, “I think it’s time you had a spanking. Count and thank me for each smack.” Then he brought his hand down, again, on that most sensitive flesh. Yvain gasped, and, though it was the second smack, she called, “One, thank you, my Seigneur.”
He kissed her thigh. “I’m glad you learn fast, little slut.” He raised his hand so she could see he intended to spank her hard. The delicious impact came, and she called, “Two, thank you, my Seigneur.”
He smiled. She knew he was very pleased with her. She watched him take up the crop again, and parted her thighs wider, arching her cunt up for him. The smacks from the crop were not hard, but they came fast.
She had to struggle to keep up with the count, while thanking him. She meant those thanks, she knew. She might have said them even if he hadn’t ordered her to.
She wondered, as the leather and his hand struck her over and over, each time bringing a wave of sensation in which any pain had long since been swamped by pleasure, if this was part of what being fucked would feel like. At last she reached, “Sixty, thank you, my Seigneur,” and he leaned forward and kissed her cunt again.
He looked up at last into her face, his mouth and beard wet with her. “Whose cunt is that?”
“It is yours, my Seigneur. But even if I had ever owned it, I would give it to you.”
“Of course you would. If it had ever not been mine.”
Yvain, greatly daring, reached down to caress the hair at the back of his head. “If I had ever not been yours.” The image of her husband, Matteo, who had never touched her, flashed into her mind. She was surprised to find that she felt no guilt, no sense of betrayal. Though this could not last, and she would be returned to him.
“You’ve never pleased a man with that mouth of yours.”
“No, my Seigneur.”
“Would you like to learn how?”
“With all my heart, my Seigneur.”
“Good. Not that what you want matters. Now, I’ve taken my robe off. I’ll wear you instead.” He rolled out of bed and stood beside it. “You, girl, get up!”
Yvain was surprised. Her father had given her piggybacks. She hadn’t expected that here. But she jumped as commanded, riding her Seigneur, thighs holding him tight, her cunt pressed at the small of his back, breasts against his shoulders, her arms lovingly round his neck.
“Such a good coat,” he said. “You need lessons in sucking cock, Yvain. We’re going to pay a visit.”
He walked her to the door and opened it.