Godiva: Unbridled (7 page)

The Lady May peered through the gape in the heavy canvas curtain, saw Thomas standing naked, before the rough, vertical mirror, dipping his hand into a basin, then swabbing something onto his face. He held an instrument in his hand, and carefully scraped it against his face, then started the ritual over again. It seemed such a deliberate, focused thing he was doing that she was almost afraid to interrupt. But her curiosity got the better of her and she whispered his name.

“Thomas?” he turned at the sound of her voice, and she pulled the curtain aside, only slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m shaving, my lady,” he replied, looking at her with a bemused expression.

“Can I watch?” He laughed.

“I don’t think it’s all that interesting but you may, if you wish.”

She slipped inside the curtain, feeling the humidity that hung on the air. He dipped his hand into the little basin again, rubbed his face with a foamy, greasy solution, then reached up with his hand, scraping something against his jaw. Her lips parted in open fascination as the hair disappeared in a clean, smooth line.

“What is that?” she asked. “How do you get the hair to come off?” Thomas was swishing his hand around in a basin of hot water now, and when he stopped, he held up a seashell.

“It’s a sharpened seashell,” he said. “This side right here? It’s been ground against a stone so that it cuts like a knife, but it’s much thinner, so it’s easier on the skin. And this here,” he held up the smaller bowl. “This is lanolin whipped together with soap. I get the lanolin from the sheep’s wool. Whenever I need some, I just go trim a bit of wool off, and boil it down in water. Once the water’s gone, the side of the pan is coated with this greasy stuff. When you mix it with soap, it makes a slick cream, and the hair comes off with ease.” He demonstrated on the rest of his face, until he was clean-shaven, then he took a cloth and dunked it in the hot water, laying it over his face for a few seconds. When he was done, he leaned down to her for inspection.

“Give it a feel,” he said, and she reached up a hand. Where there had been coarse, scratchy stubble earlier, now his face was smooth and moist, no trace of any beard. She kissed his cheek, finding herself excited by this ritual.

“Do you ever shave anything else?” she asked, and the question made his face go puzzled.

“No, I’ve never had reason to shave anything else. She looked up at him with devious innocence, and pulled the bottom of her chemise up.

“What do you think it would be like to shave… down there?” Thomas was so surprised, he stumbled over his words.

“Oh, lady… I’d be so afraid that I might hurt you.”

“Do you ever hurt yourself?”

“Well no, but that’s different. I’ve a man’s skin, it’s much harder than… the flesh of a woman’s…”

“I trust you,” she said. “I want to feel smooth like this. I want… when you kiss me there… for me to feel smooth against your lips.”

A blush rose across Thomas’ cheeks and he looked away, speechless. He felt her tender touch on his jaw as she moved his face to look back at her again.

“Show me how,” she whispered. “And then, I can shave you as well!” Lifting her arms, she peeled her shift over her head, standing naked as he, right next to him. Planting a gentle kiss on his neck, then his chest, she reached for the hand that held the shell, and brought it toward her. Snapping from the seduction of her kisses, he drew his hand back.

“No, Lady May,” he said. “The edge of the shell is sharper than a blade.” She looked up at him, held his gaze. Sighing, he reached to dunk the cloth in the hot water basin and wrung it out. Taking a towel from the stack near the bathtub, he dropped it to the floor between them. Turning to her, he bent to his knees which sank softly into the towel on the floor, and pressed the warm, wet cloth against her little mound. His sex had already reacted, just to her being near him, and stood erect, bobbing slightly as he pressed his hand against her tuft of hair. He removed the cloth and dunked it once more, then pressed it against her damp curls.

“Can you hand me that little bowl?” he asked, gesturing to the basin that held the creamy foam he’d slathered on his face. She took it from the table, and held it within his reach. The heat of the damp cloth against her felt exciting, and the anticipation of what he was about to do heightened the sensation. Dipping his fingers into the bowl, he scooped out some of the creamy foam and removed the cloth. With great care, he began to massage the slippery froth into her mound, his fingers working their way throughout the hair to rub against her skin. Her lips tingled, twitched beneath his intimate touch, and she wondered if he noticed. He seemed completely focused, staring at her most intimate spot, his mouth, which had such a magical power to pleasure her, only inches from the place where she craved for him to kiss and suck. Her breath escaped her in a lusty sigh. Thomas brought his hand that held the shell up above the line of her curls, his eyes, thoughtful and attentive. With his other hand, he held her belly, tightening the skin, then he ran the edge of the sharpened shell across her hair, and a line of course, dark blonde curls disappeared. She gasped in gleeful delight.

“Oh, it’s so smooth!” she said, reaching to touch it.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Thomas stopped her, removing her hand before she made contact with the skin. “No touching until you’re completely bare.” For the first time, he smiled up at her, and she could tell that he was enjoying this. “Also, you need a little trim. Some of this hair is too long to simply scrape away.”

Thomas reached into a little case on the floor and retrieved a miniature pair of scissors. Lady May laughed; she had never seen such a small set of shears before in her life. With great precision, Thomas gave her nether lips a bit of grooming, before he started the process of dipping his hands into the basin, and smoothing the cream onto her excited, tingling mound again. In clean, exact paths cut across her pubic bone, he scraped the sharpened shell until she was bare. She looked down her belly, then up to him when he was finished.

“Can I touch it now?” she asked, so excited she could hardly stand it.

“Not quite yet,” he replied. “That was the easy part. Now I have to do the underside.” Now it was her turn to be surprised. Thomas just smiled and set down his tools. He reached to her thighs and gently pressed into them with his thumbs. “Spread your legs, and tip your hips up toward me,” he instructed. “Lean back on the counter if you need to. You’ll have to hold quite still.”

The lady May did as she was told and for just a moment, felt vulnerable and awkward. Then she looked down at her shaven cunny, thought of how exciting it was going to be to feel it and rub it against Thomas, how he would react and how he would be pleasured by her, and she felt powerful and beautiful, and she felt proud to be in such a revealing position. She saw that he was still erect, and this reinforced her confidence. She ached and tingled almost painfully to sheath the length of him within her newly-shorn lips.

Holding her swollen folds flattened, Thomas repeated the steps he’d used on top, lathering up her skin and hair, then scraping away the curls, leaving moist, slick skin. The friction of the seashell against her sent vibrations through her whole area, titillating the nub of nerves at the top, and she knew that she was growing damp not from the heat of the cloth that Thomas used to soften the hair for shaving, but from the pearls of desire that seeped to lubricate her so that she could fill herself with his hardness. After he had removed all the hair, Thomas held the warm cloth against her once more, and the heat and the pressure was all at once soothing and stimulating. When he finally removed the cloth, he looked up at her from his spot kneeling on the floor.

“Can I touch it now?” she asked.

Thomas shook his head. No.

He moved his hands to the small of her back, holding her hips in his palms, examining her up close, breathing over her sensitive, bare skin. She shivered all over from the tickling delight of his warm breath on her. His lips grazed her belly, low over her hipbones, moving toward the newly shaved skin.

“Such a pretty
peche
,” he whispered, letting his lips barely touch the top of her folds, then move to the side again, kissing lightly all around the zinging flesh. “So soft,” he continued, moving back, planting a kiss squarely at the center of her, humming gently against her, sending the slightest vibration into the nub of nerves. He kissed her there as though he were kissing her mouth, gently at first, not invasive, light, tentative feather-kisses, then a tiny bit more direct. Then, he dragged his bottom lip over her underside, so it barely grazed the aching rosebud at the top, once, twice. And then it was time for his tongue to taste, to dip teasingly into her, lick lightly over her nerve center. Her breath caught in her throat, and though her one hand steadied her against the table, her other hand clutched at her breast, the nipple which throbbed for attention. Thomas’ mouth feasted openly now, tongue lathing the full length of her private lips, pausing to kiss and suckle at the top, only to start over again in a maddening rhythm of passion. His thumb pressed against her inner walls, parting her, and she pressed down against him, wanting so, wanting everything, wanting to be filled, to be drained. A deft finger found its way into her slippery entrance, and she bucked against him as he kissed and sucked at her womanhood. Curling his finger against something inside her, the gasp caught in her throat and a long, low moan escaped her mouth. Responding to her reaction, Thomas deliberately continued his tortuously slow manipulations with his fingertip, pressing against a spot within her core that made her continue to gasp as he sucked lightly on her hairless mound, tongue swirling ever-so skillfully around the engorged button of pleasure right at the top.

In her wild gasping, the Lady May opened her eyes, looked around the small chamber. She caught a glimpse of them in the rough, jagged mirror that hung on the wall, able only to see Thomas where he kneeled on the floor before her, and part of her own naked body, caught in the moment of ecstasy. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders, tumbled wildly about her body as her breasts jiggled, nipples standing taut and straining, the dark blond waves of Thomas’ head swaying rhythmically as he pleasured her, held her steady with one strong hand, the other, exploring her inside, making her gasp and grind against his palm. And in that moment of seeing herself, naked and so vulnerable, in a curtained off area of a barn, a man’s hands holding her in place, gripping her, controlling her, an emotion washed through her that she recognized as the feeling of complete safety. Amid her spiraling passion, pleasure so acute from the pinpoint tingle at the tip of Thomas’ tongue to the deep throbbing that began to rock her inner walls, she felt totally happy, at ease, secure. The kernel of sensation at the top of her bare lips began to twitch, connected to the throbbing deep within. Thomas dragged his lower lip slowly along her slippery, engorged flesh as her body shook, moans came loudly from her lips, her head thrown back, breasts quaking, hips tipping, then frozen as the ebbing peaked and subsided.

Chapter 10

Thomas moved his hand around to her lower back, supporting the Lady May as she collapsed against his palm, and he kissed lightly all along the top of her bare skin. His fingers slipped out, and he held them, warm and wet against her inner thigh. The scent of her filled the humid chamber, smelled erotic and clean, like fragrant water with a slight hint of musky depth. Thomas looked up at her as he kissed her, moving along her pelvis, his nose and lips glistening with her juices. She wondered how she tasted.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, pulling him with one arm up toward her. He rose, his erection standing straight and ready, straining toward her. Wrapping an arm around his neck, she kissed him deeply, smelling herself on his face, tasting her own salty blandness on his lips. Licking his top lip, she kissed his cheeks, darting her tongue out to taste herself on him, and it fueled a primal need within her. She pressed her sensitive mound against his stiff member, and it bobbed in reaction to her rubbing against him.

“Your turn,” she said, leaning back, a vixen-like smile playing over her lips.

“My turn?” he replied. “For what?”

The lady tipped her head and bit her bottom lip, reaching to the shelf where Thomas had laid the sharpened seashell. She smiled up at him as she dipped her other hand in the little bowl of frothy foam.

“Oh no, that’s not for me,” he said, but he didn’t move away. It was fun to watch her be so crafty and playful.

“But why not? Don’t you think our bare skin would feel lovely sliding against each other, like slippery bar soap in a bathtub!”

“But don’t you think it strange? A man with no hair? Wouldn’t it feel… obscene to you, lady?” Her eyes sobered as she gingerly turned the seashell over in her palm.

“I’ve never felt so safe and so happy as I have here with you, Thomas,” she said. “I don’t know what my other life was. But I love this life right now. Nothing about us is obscene. When I give myself to you, it’s not just for the pleasure of the flesh but because I feel happy with you. Your body is beautiful and manly, no matter how it appears.”

A small smile crossed Thomas’s lips. He gestured at a kettle set over a pot of hot stones. “Fetch me that kettle.”

She watched as he poured the hot water over the same cloth he’d held against her, rinsing it out over the bathtub and then wringing it. He pulled a wooden chair from the corner, where it had served as a hanging place for his clothes, and sat back in the chair, draping the warm, wet cloth over his now semi-hard phallus.

“Would you like me to do the honors, or would you like to learn to do it yourself?”

“Oh, teach me, please!” She exclaimed, and positioned herself on top of the folded towel on the floor, between his open legs. She handed over the shell, and held the bowl for him. He folded back the cloth, exposing just one side of his pelvis, and he shook his head.

“Nay,” he said, “too thick, too long. Must be trimmed first. Then we use the shell. Shears, please?”

She handed him the tiny shears, watched as he trimmed away the length of his own furry mound, moved his shaft aside as he snipped the hair on his lower belly, until finally he seemed satisfied. After another soak with the cloth, he reached for the bowl.