Audacity (Seraph)

When I haul her to her feet, her eyes are glazed and her mouth is swollen and her cheeks are wet and her hair is tangled and her legs are coltish.

She’s less perfect this way, but somehow even more beautiful.

I gaze down at her and swipe my thumb over the wetness of her full lower lip, marvelling at the extraordinary pleasure her mouth just afforded me.

‘That was very, very well done,’ I murmur, and her face softens, mouth curving up at the corners.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she whispers against my thumb.

‘Now I can enjoy you properly.’ I smooth her hair with my other hand. ‘Get on the bed and spread your legs for me like a good, brave girl.’

Her face contorts a little, as though my suggestion that she’ll need courage is less of a threat than a very alluring promise, but she nods and turns, clambering up onto my enormous bed and arranging herself on it. She fans her hair out before lying back fully, arms out to the sides, legs parted, knees drawn up a little.

The very picture of surrender.

My modern-day self knows too well how much more experienced Athena is than me. How much more radical, more comfortable, in her sexuality. I’ve undoubtedly been the (grateful) recipient of her experience as well as her expertise, but tonight she’s giving me something I hadn’t thought to want before yet now crave:

She’s offering me the privilege of “taking” her, of shattering her maidenhood and, in the process, being the first man to show her the extraordinary things of which her body is capable.

None of it’s real, of course. Just like I wouldn’t presume to believe it’s all real in my office, either. She’s the consummate professional, an incredible actor.

Still, it feels real, in this candlelit room in this ancient castle with armed and chain-mail-clad guards outside. She wants this evening to be real just as badly as I do—far more badly, in fact. And when I make her come with my mouth and my dick, the honour of being the agent of her irrefutable pleasure will be real enough for me.

I hastily remove the rest of my clothing and jump up onto the bed so I can crouch over her, revelling in the sight of her laid out on this rich damask coverlet. With my hands on her knees, I push her legs further apart and stare at that patch of flesh, rose-coloured and unctuous and forbidden.

Flesh that will soon belong to another man but tonight belongs to me to enjoy.

To do with as I please.

I slide my fingertips inwards from her knees, and she shivers. The skin of her inner thighs is as impossibly soft as the surface of a freshly plucked rose petal, and as unblemished.

‘Your husband won’t do this to you,’ I observe aloud, using my index fingers to hold her so carefully open. The act reminds me of tugging apart a ripe fig and admiring its rich terrain before burying my face in its luscious flesh. ‘He’ll take one look at you naked and probably come in his breeches like a juvenile. Or if he lasts long enough to notch himself inside you, it will be fast and desperate and lacking in finesse.’

I use my thumb to trace her wetness through from that exposed button to her entrance, and her moan is gratifyingly pained. ‘And it’s a shame, because your body is a beautiful instrument which, when played by a master musician with the right kind of finesse, can make truly exquisite music.’ I allow myself the luxury of sliding my thumb inside her body, just for a moment. Just to remind myself of the pleasures that await me.

She pushes against me, her body sucking me in greedily, and I tut.

‘You’re an innocent maiden, Athena, not a greedy little lightskirt. Act like it. Do you know what your duties are to your husband?’

I keep my thumb precisely where it is, tearing my gaze away from her sweet cunt and up to her face. She’s breathing heavily.

‘To obey him, sir, and to allow him to… take liberties.’

I hum my approval. ‘Indeed. But tonight, your duties are to yield every inch of your skin and every hole in your body to me in every single filthy way I choose, whether I’m using my fingers,’—I slide my thumb out and back in—‘or my prick, or my mouth.’

She stares up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, skin flawless, this lovely, lovely creature arranged in my bedchamber for my delight with furled nipples and tight cunt, and I can wait no longer to feast on her.

‘Do not move an inch. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she manages.

I push myself onto my stomach and reach up to take one nipple firmly in my grip as I bury my face in her glorious wetness and kiss that clit as ardently as I kissed her mouth earlier, laving it with my tongue, lavishing it with attention.

She practically shoots off the bed.

‘This is pleasure, Athena,’ I say against her flesh. ‘This is pure, godless, pleasure of the flesh, and you’ll almost certainly never experience it again in your marriage, so lie back and surrender to the pleasure that only your lord can give you. Say yes, my lord if you understand.’

‘God, yes my lord.’ She pants the words out.

‘That’s it.’ I release her nipple and drag my hand down her body, splaying it over her stomach so I can hold her down. I replace the thumb inside her with two fingers and begin to fuck her hard with them as I lick her with masterful, relentless strokes. Every peasant in my realm can copulate like the farm animals in my endless fields, but this is what will give this maiden an experience as unforgettable as it is unique.

The young woman before me may not understand this for some time, but by taking my fill, my ownership, of her pleasure, I have prevailed upon her far more thoroughly, more indelibly, than if I had overruled or terrorised her.

Her utter capitulation is my sweetest victory.