The Inheritance (15 page)

"Yes,
Master."

"I have
decided that tonight shall be the conclusion of that celebration.
We have before us an entirely new chapter. I shall discuss these
details with you later, but this chamber must be christened in an
appropriate fashion, and the start of our next year together must
also be accorded the same honour."

"Oh yes,
Master."

Elizabeth
could scarcely contain herself. He was talking with such romance in
his voice. A celebration of their first year - the future - it was
all too wonderful and she couldn't wait to be ravaged.

"I'm very
pleased you agree. I intend to take you in the same manner I took
you that night a little over a year ago. The night that you
surrendered yourself to me wholly and completely, and submitting
with pride and joy your bottom for my delight."

The words sunk
in and Elizabeth felt the spark prickle down her spine. While he
fingered her there from time to time, and even introduced a rubber
intruder not infrequently, he had taken her there only once since
the night of her collaring. It was when she had been particularly
unruly and he had lectured her severely, reminding her in no
uncertain terms that she must remember her place.

"Do you not
think it a worthy commemoration?" Lord Michael asked, with just a
hint of severity to his voice.

Elizabeth
wanted to be - had to be - sincere. She thought for a moment, then
replied, "I do," in a very small voice.

"Excellent.
And I promise you, there will be great pleasure in it for you - if
you want there to be," he finished.

Now fully
undressed he walked behind her and pulled her cheeks apart. She
cringed, and without thought tensed her buttocks.

"Fear not,
Elizabeth. I understand your reticence. But you must surrender to
your passion. I would much prefer you did of your own accord than
whip you into submission," he declared, picking up the crop.

He placed the
long bar of the implement against her, directly in the middle of
her cheeks. She whimpered, desperate not to be whipped. But he did
not whip her. He raised it in the air and danced the hot leather
tongue at its end. It held a bite, but a scintillating one. It was
only a few minutes before she was shifting from foot to foot,
enjoying the spicy attention.

"You liked
that, didn't you?" he crooned, moving his hand across her blotched
skin.

"Oh I did,
Master. I did," she breathed.

Placing the
leather tongue against her swollen and saturated sex, he slapped it
down several times. The sting sizzled in a most tantalizing manner,
and after only a few quick slaps Elizabeth could feel the
beginnings of her moment.

"Release the
pole and stand straight. I shall remove your dress, though I must
say it has been most enjoyable having it frame your bottom all this
time."

Sighing,
Elizabeth rose from her bent position and Lord Michael moved the
dress down her body. Inasmuch as he had instructed she sport no
undergarments she was left completely naked. With his guidance she
stepped from the billows of material on the floor, which he picked
up and laid across the chair at the desk.

"Aren't you
lovely," he remarked, returning to her. He sat on the edge of the
bed in front of her and fluttered his hands across her body.
Tweaking a nipple, squeezing a hip, smacking a cheek, he continued
his exquisite exploration until she was panting.

"How do you
feel?" he asked, circling her swollen clit with his middle
finger.

"Oh, Master.
So overcome with need. I long to feel you inside me."

"I'm sure you
do, but you know where I'm placing my stiff cock," he reminded
her.

"Yes, Master.
But I am so happy to obey and to serve you," she replied,
breathlessly, "and I am waiting to accept you," she answered, her
voice filled with sincerity.

She could now
imagine how pleasurably decadent the ride would be, and to
surrender to him as she had the night of her collaring was as
perfect as anything could be.

"Yes. I
thought you would come to this understanding," he answered,
tenderly. "And I'm so proud that you did."

"Thank you,
Master," she sighed, happily, revelling in his glowing words of
praise.

Standing up
from the bed and gently taking her around the waist, he bent her
forward across the bed.

"Take your
cheeks in your hands and present yourself to me," he said
firmly.

His authority
and control wrapped itself around her like a tight shawl on a cool
day. Reaching around she pulled herself apart, the act itself
sending a wave of erotic heat through her sex.

"Oh Master,"
she cried, unable to contain herself. "Oh please will you take me
there."

Lord Michael
was very happy indeed. While he knew she would reach a state of
happy capitulation, he had not anticipated she would beg him so
plainly, nor so beautifully.

"My darling,
Elizabeth," he said, his heart filled with love for her, "I most
certainly will."

He unscrewed
the lid from the jar of salve and placed a large dollop on his
finger, spreading it across her waiting, puckered orifice.
Slithering his finger forward he heard Elizabeth gasp, then her
bottom relaxed and received the intrusion willingly. Scooping more
with his fingers he slathered it across his member, then placed his
knob in position.

"As soon as I
am in you will release your hands and play with your clitty."

"Oh yes,
Master. Thank you, Master."

"And because,"
he added, starting his attack, pushing gently forward, "you have
pleased me so tremendously this night you may come just as you
like."

"Oh Master.
Thank you," she cried.

"Tell me what
you want," he said, his voice suddenly falling husky and deep.

"Master,
please will you fuck me in my bottom?" she wailed, and though
humiliated by the words, they sent a fresh wave of passion through
her loins and she involuntarily pushed back against him. To his
great unexpected pleasure, the movement caused his penetration.

"Good girl,
Elizabeth," he said happily. "Drop your hands!"

The moment
they fell off her cheeks he clutched her hips and sliced home. It
was as easy an insertion as he'd ever encountered.

"Oh Master,
it's marvellous," she wailed. "Simply marvellous."

Lord Michael
was overjoyed and began sliding in and out, fucking between her
cheeks with slow easy strokes. Never had he had such a willing
partner. She was clearly embracing each thrust, moving her backside
in a most prurient manner. Her unbridled acceptance was causing his
cock to move to its eruption with lightening speed, and he slowed
himself, not wanting his pleasure to end so soon.

"Oh Master, I
feel it approaching already," she cried.

"You can come
if you wish," he replied, wanting to keep his promise, "but I would
that you hold for just a few more moments. The pleasure is so
exquisite I don't wish it to come to its end quite yet."

"Master - you
are right. I shall... wait..." she stammered, reluctantly dropping
her hand away.

Lord Michael
left himself buried and caught his breath. Bringing his hand
underneath her he felt her sex. She was brimming with wetness.
Unable to stop herself, she moved against them.

"You are
scandalous," he murmured. "So wonderfully scandalous," and her
small response caused him to start anew, clutching her hips and
pumping slowly.

"One of these
nights," he said, huskily, "I shall have some instruments you've
not encountered. One shall penetrate what my cock is presently
enjoying, the other in your glorious cunt," he continued, his words
pushing him forward.

"Tell me more,
Master," she begged, as her fingers rubbed furiously, the edge of
the precipice drawing near.

"And you shall
use one and I the other, and I shall," he said, panting, feeling
his climax upon him, "allow you - to - choose," he continued, his
voice growing in pitch, "that - which - you want!" he cried, as his
cock exploded in her naughty depths.

"Master!"
Elizabeth shrieked as she fell over the cliff, the spasms rocketing
through her loins, causing her to buck and gyrate, her bottom
bouncing on his cock, the likes of which he had never before
seen.

"My darling,
Elizabeth," he groaned, grinding against her cheeks until the last
of the spasms passed and his flaccid sausage flopped out.

Whimpering
from her momentous release, Elizabeth collapsed, her body falling
limp, and Lord Michael crawled across next to her, pulling her up
with him until they were both laying fully on the mattress with
Elizabeth cradled against his shoulder.

Both exhausted
and spent they dozed easily in the silent stillness, unaware they
were surrounded by the ghosts of lovers past, who now gazed down
upon the pair sleeping so peacefully, knowing the ardour, the
passion, the love the two had shared. The chamber had been vacant
far too long, and the spirits danced and played in honour of the
new inhabitants.

C
hapter Eight

James and
Lydia

As Elizabeth
grew stronger, her mood brightening with each passing day, Lord
Michael began the arduous task of sorting through all of her
uncle's affairs. Alfred, it appeared, was a force to be reckoned
with and had his fingers in many pies. But he was also methodical
and precise, and with the help of the solicitor and accountant who
had worked for him, Lord Michael was beginning to make sense of it
all.

Much to
Elizabeth's great delight, Roy, the stable lad, had ridden
Constance to Hanley Hall trotting alongside Lord Michael's carriage
when it returned carrying her father, who had arrived back alone.
James needed to stay behind for a few more days.

Since Lord
Michael would soon have to return to London to take care of some of
his own matters, it all seemed to work out perfectly. Elizabeth's
father would be there to watch over her after Lord Michael's
departure.

The situation
at Hanley Hall had fallen into a comfortable routine and the
household had become much more relaxed, secure in the knowledge
that the ship was being guided by Lord Michael's strict but capable
hands. Elizabeth was having a wonderful time on Constance, but
should Andrew Carrington appear she would immediately dismount and
throw her reins to Roy. Lord Michael had been gratified to witness
the cool manner in which she would offer Mr Carrington a slight bow
of her head and walk smartly off.

Back at the
Barrett residence, James was pleased to have been left behind.
While it was certainly true that there was work to be done, James
had other more personal issues that needed his attention. There
were several young ladies whose company he enjoyed, but one
especially had been on his mind. Lydia Covington.

Lydia was an
exceptionally pretty girl. James had known of her for many years.
She and her spinster aunt had moved to a nearby farm, the girl's
parents having been lost, though he knew not how. He would see her
around the village, and though plainly dressed he could see she
possessed a grace that belied her appearance. In recent years he
had taken it upon himself to find out more about her, and came to
discover she was of noble birth but circumstances beyond the death
of her parents had led to her living arrangements with her
aunt.

The other
young women whose company James enjoyed were much like Elizabeth,
though most not as spoiled. They knew how to dance, how to wave
their fans, and their hair was always in the latest style. A couple
of them had felt his hand on their bottoms when he felt it
warranted, but James knew it was just a game to them. As far as he
was concerned they were all much the same and he bored of them
quickly.

But Lydia was
different. She and her spinster aunt were barely seen in the social
circles. The only time he had an opportunity to speak with her was
at church or if he should run into her in the village. At such
times he found her very personable indeed, and while other young
women would huddle in a circle, tittering and giggling, it appeared
she had no desire to join them, and on one occasion he saw her
shoot them a covert glance of contempt.

He decided the
time had come to get to know her better. When his father announced
he was returning to join Elizabeth and Lord Michael, James saw his
window of opportunity.

The day after
George Barrett left his house, James, on his dark bay mare Pandora,
set off in search of the elusive young woman. He knew where the
farm lay and it was only a thirty minute ride. He was anxious, and
wanting to be in control and presentable he purposefully slowed the
mare to a trot and on occasion, an easy canter. When he hit the
crest of the hill that led to the farm he could see the house in
the distance. It was a modest home but not unattractive, and he
ambled his mare down the easy slope towards the front door. Pulling
to a halt, he saw a farmhand come running across to help.

"I shan't be
long," James said, handing the man the reins. "Just loosen the
saddle a bit and offer her some water."

He banged the
solid iron rapper that sat in the very center of the door, and
moments later found himself staring down at a gaunt, dour looking
woman.

"Good
afternoon, Madam. My name is James Barrett, and I was hoping to
visit with Miss Lydia Covington. Might she be available?" he asked,
in the most charming and polite manner he could muster.

She looked at
him curiously, then nodded her head.

"Very well.
I'll have her come down," the woman replied, then motioned for him
to enter.

"In there if
you will," she gestured, her arm motioning to a small parlour room
as he walked past her. "May I offer you some tea?"