Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Belle Époque

They had met at the end of the season. He had seemed like some great austere saint and so dull. But after sharing a few dances and having had the pleasure of sitting next to him during the horse races, she had found that he was far from noble and was indeed quite clever.

He amused her. His humor was razor sharp, his intellect far superior to anyone she had ever met. He unsettled her, and intrigued her. What hovered on the raw edge just below the surface was a dark, smoldering, sleeping volcano. A bath of lava she wanted to submerge herself in and emerge from like a phoenix.

She was fascinated by him, and his deviant mind and felt in her gut she should be afraid. But all she wanted to do was kneel at his feet. It made her despise herself. She was no Victorian twit! This was 1910 and she refused to emulate her mother.

She hadn’t acknowledged her inner desires until meeting him. She had been focused on her social status, and with her parents, had been slowly considering her marriage options for climbing up the ranks. He had been one such option, that she had stubbornly refused based on her first impression.

There was this internal fight that she was faced with ever since she had hit puberty. There were so many things that a proper English Lady did not do or even admit to. Upon meeting him again over dinner, she had given up that fight. She found herself flowing into him.

As she went to her dresser and chose yet another string of pearls to add to the collection already weighing down the high collar of lace, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair up, with some curls escaping haphazardly to frame her fine boned face, she was annoyed to see her cheeks so flushed. Her eyes dark black pools of lust stared back at her.

He did that to her.

They were meeting at the Opera tonight, and she hoped her parents had not been fools in letting her go escorted by no more than the old maid that often served breakfast in their home.

He waited for her at the loge.

Unlike most suitors who went out of their way to dote on her, collecting her at her home, asking her what she would like to do and such; he always made her come to him and told her what the plans for the evening were. Part of his arrogance in these things irritated her, part of it left her breathless. She already had so many things to think about, in running a home, organizing sweaty shop girls in her social work and everything that went with her station, that not having to think for herself actually came as a reprieve. Upon arrival at the loge he showed himself the perfect Gentleman, giving her prime seating and flattering her. The old maid sat in the second row, little beady eyes well aware of the electricity between them.

He leaned in, under guise of giving her the details of the story line. His warmth made her entire body shiver. He said nothing, just breathed on her exposed shoulders and neck as she was forced for social dignity to remain perfectly still, and calm. She dropped her Opera glasses in her lap, he picked them up, applying pressure to her sex. She almost fainted as the rush of blood flooded her clit and vulva and her corset strangled her breath. She felt her nipples harden under her lace bodice and ached for his touch.

She looked at him then, certain her eyes betrayed her desire. He sneered and pulled away. Her cheeks bloomed red and she was grateful for the blanket of darkness that fell.

Soon the curtains opened and Elektra began. Based on the Greek tragedy of the same name, the opera by Richard Strauss let unfold before her the horror and gloom of revenge, the sole theme. Every note, every scene dragging at her heart bringing her deeper and deeper into the despair that led to murder, and in the last scenes Elektra, in an ecstatic dance of triumph, falling dead in front of her horror-stricken attendants.

Discussing with delicate delight her impressions of the Opera with him, he walked her and her chaperon to his Silver Ghost. The maid stalled. There was no convincing the woman to enter the motor car. No matter what was said she simply would not. Seemingly chivalrous, he hailed down a horse and carriage and sent her on her way, soothing her with kind words. The poor woman was so frazzled she did not seem to notice that in the process, she had abandoned her charge.

Unfolding quietly her sheer, gauzy scarf to wrap around the edges of her massively brimmed hat, tying it securely under her chin, she accepted moments later his hand as she stepped into the vehicle. As he settled next to her and the motor crackled and boomed to life she breathed with enchantment her enthusiasm at the sense of freedom and speed that came from the promised road ahead. She wished bitterly she could loosen her corset.

The silence between them was pleasant. There was little point in trying to speak over the engine noise. She closed her eyes. Let herself feel his presence next to her. She knew the city would gossip at this the next day, but for now she simply enjoyed the fleeting sense of rebellion that sent the butterflies in her stomach a flutter. Then, they stopped short as the car suddenly halted. She opened her eyes and realized she didn’t know where she was.

She was alone with him on a country road along the ocean. Miles from anywhere and anyone. How had this happened? She smiled at him nervously and realized then that she was his pray. But instead of feeling fear, she felt total peace envelope her like a guardian.

He stepped out of the car.

She waited.

He motion with a sharp gesture that she should join him. She removed very carefully the hat, gloves and scarf and left them in the back seat. Fumbling a moment with the door, she attempted to exit the car as elegantly as possible without falling. She nearly did but caught herself. He waited patiently a few steps away.

The trees hid them from public view. The Ocean waves crashed angrily in a pre-storm hissy fit along the coast far far below the cliff he had chosen.

“You will marry me” he said. There was no reply. He turned slowly raising an eyebrow at her. He was calm but imposing.

“Yes” she responded.

“Kneel”

Without hesitation she did. Not caring that the fine Belgian lace of her gown would need delicate cleaning to return them to their desired bright white.

“You are mine – you understand? Do not speak just nod yes or no”.

She nodded in the affirmative.

“You are an intriguing woman, I will give you that. I never thought I’d find a one worthy of my attention. You haven’t disappointed me… yet. Surprising considering your young years”

She remained silent basking in his praise as he walked up to her, and removed her jewels. She already felt naked without her hat and gloves. His fingers on her neck made her forget to breathe. His gesture was rough yet, never did he pull her hair or actually cause pain. She trembled from cold and from something she could not name.

She almost screamed when she felt his fingers on the buttons of her bodice. She almost ran when he caressed her shoulders with his lips, She moaned deeply when he unlaced her corset exposing her bare back to the elements. Revealing her to the outdoors as she never had been.

“Breathe” he ordered almost lovingly. She did – deeply. She sensed his anger at the corset for containing her so. She smiled. There was something tender there.

“Do you wish me to stop?” She remained silent. “You may answer” he added. Quivering she whispered barely audibly.

“No”

“Good”

He grabbed her by the arm and escorted her to the car. With the scarf previously abandoned in the back seat he tied her to the cross bar holding the canvas roof. Alarm now rushed through her. A sense of controlled terror took over. He smiled then. He wanted her, and she knew then that she desperately needed him to.

Her hands tied, facing the car, standing there, he pulled her head back towards him. His other hand cupped her breast and exposed it to the cold and he pinched her nipple hard. She had never been touched by a man. She had barely ever touched herself. Her body responded with emotions and desires she was wholly unprepared to deal with.

She screamed. He let go of her hair, and kneeled at her feet waiting for her scream to die. Then, as she trembled and shook, he let his hands climb up, her petticoats. She sobbed and screamed again. On the fine line between outrage and craving.

She had never known such intimate contact, she had never expected it to be so intensely arousing. She had on no account expected him to be so… tender. What were these feelings she felt. Her screams tangled in her throat with moans as his fingers pressed her nether regions. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton between his digits and her cunt. She hung her head in embarrassment as she felt the moisture soak into the fabric.

Slowly, he pressed, small circles and delicious pressure made her knees weak, Her breath caught in her throat now, her groans grew louder. She felt a sensation she had never know, a flooding of warmth and pleasure. She found herself pressing into him, whispering his name. Her head fell back of its own accord as her first orgasm shook her body. She collapsed, with only his strength and the ropes holding her up.

He untied her then, and kissed her, proudly, fiercely. Taking her hand he placed it on his hard cock. She felt it, curious and a little alarmed. The heat and hardness obvious even through his trousers.

“Good – as much as my social standing requires me to have a Lady for a wife, I will not, like so many fools, have you simply tolerate my touch for procreation. I do not wish to support a mistress. You shall be both. In public you will show all the grace and elegance of a woman of your standing. Of that you are most capable. I needed to know if you were able to let go of those social bindings in private. I will not marry a woman unable to let go sufficiently to feel pleasure.” She barely heard him. She sat in the passenger seat of the car, flushed and glowing with this new delight.

Next week, we will begin your sexual education. The basics, fellatio and such, both receiving and giving pleasure. Your education, will culminate with your deflowering on our wedding night. Something I am looking forward to immensely. By then, your fears of that act will have been replaced by excitement” he said.

What he did not see, was the moonlit smile that curved her delicate lips. She had judged him correctly and bagged her man. 

There were some things an English Lady never admitted. He had ensured she never had to.

© Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk, 2009/2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fantasia Lillith and Pillow Talk with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

April 4, 2010 Posted by | erotica, Not the bedroom, Outdoors, Tied Up | , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments