CHAPTER ONE

 

The prattle of raindrops against the windows echoed through the vaulted bedchamber; droning incessantly, like ladies at tea chattering over some tasty morsel of scandalous gossip.

Lizette pulled the counterpane more tightly around her bare shoulders and attempted to burrow her way back toward the deeper realms of sleep; finding no reason, whatsoever, to interrupt her lovely dreaming. From the ever-wakeful furrow at the bottom of her velvet belly she felt familiar stirring and in her semi-aroused awareness she smiled as satisfying visions presented themselves across her mind's eye ... impelling her long, graceful fingers silently downward into the sweet heat between her thighs.

A long, musical sigh reshaped her petal-pink mouth into a perfect circle of content as sure, knowing fingertips traced the outer edges of her quim; evoking a copious flow of warm liquid that soon filled her palm and dampened the nest of golden curls that framed the entrance to her throbbing tunnel. Slowly, languidly, she stroked the tender opening down there, savouring those delectable rivulets of pleasure that coursed, helter-skelter, through her flesh until, as though by some miraculous instinct, they found the tips of her breasts and concentrated there on coaxing her cherry-red nipples to vibrant, erect life.

Proceeding with the ritual of her morning, she rolled over onto her back while, with her free hand, she bundled her sleeping gown high above her delicate waist until the warm flannel bunched below the proud rise of firm, full breasts. Spreading her thighs wide she lifted her hips, making room for the stealthy, tortuously sweet-slow journey of her finger ... deep, deep into the dark, eager passage between the pouting wet lips of her aching hole.

Oh, it was so good to feel it there at last! She lay perfectly still, teasing herself with glorious anticipation of things to come as she squeezed the inner-muscles of her dripping channel around the welcome intruder, allowing the tight walls of her inner place to press themselves rhythmically about its pleasure-giving hardness. She felt her innards suckling urgently at the lovely stiffness like a hungry babe at its mother's breast ... eagerly attempting to milk it dry and ingest those life-giving liquids that satisfy body and soul alike.

When she could endure the delay no longer, Lizette drew her finger slowly outward until its tip was pressing flatly against the stiff little love button tucked secretively between the folds of her pouting nether lips. Shivering with delight, she massaged the ultra-sensitive nub until it felt swollen to bursting. Then it was time for a slow, steady, back-and-forth manipulation that brought little gasps issuing forth from her mouth and tiny droplets of perspiration to the sides of her swan-long neck.

Inside the warm flannel her breasts cried out for attention; for their rightful due as part of Lizette's ritual of delight. Never one to deny her flesh any of its preferences, she tunnelled her way up underneath the thick folds of material until her palm cupped a warm mound whose eager tip leaped to new life at the instant of contact.

Pressing her breast almost fiat back against her heaving chest she captured the little pointed tip and railed it between her fingers like a pebble; shivering with new ecstasies of self-indulgence as breast and quim combined to send rapid, penetrating messengers of excitement through her trembling body.

The provocative fragrance of womanly nectar filled her nostrils and Lizette inhaled deeply, giving herself over to an exquisite co-existence of fantasy and reality. At the same time she realized that these were her own hands bringing such joy to her pulsing flesh, she allowed her imagination free-rein; calling forth the vision of William's wiry body and how it would soon, without doubt, be writhing in pain ... dutifully, willingly, even happily enduring the price she would exact for the privilege of serving the needs of her particular passion.

Ah, William ... sweet, innocent, unsuspecting William. How docilely he had been waiting these last weeks for some indication of her favour. How dutifully he had paid his respects, calling upon her daily since her father's death, acceding to her every whim. Attending her flights of fancy like the lovesick, dependent pup she had conditioned him to be. Never knowing ... not even remotely suspecting that at the end of his apprenticeship his strong, young back was going to be striped scarlet with the mark of her passions ... that the staunchly-endured canings of his school years would prove, indeed, to be mere child's' play when compared with the punishments Lizette would dole in exchange for the homage her body so richly deserved.

As tangential thinking sometimes tends to do, Lizette became suddenly aware of the fact that the interruption of pure, single-minded concentration had made its mark upon her mood; altering the order of her preferences. Wrinkling her pretty nose in momentary disappointment, she brought both hands up above the counterpane and flung them, palms-backward against the deep, goose-down pillows, sighing loudly. Suddenly, the ministrations of her own fingers were not enough. Fantasies alone would not suffice her needs this morning. She required another's presence ... the actual participation of a subjugated attendant to satiate the violent thirst within her for release.

Without needing to look, she lifted a graceful arm, closed slender fingers around a tasselled bell-pull and tugged demandingly.

Then, chuckling to herself, she waited for the sound of footsteps to approach the chamber. Then, chuckling to herself, she waited for the sound of footsteps to approach the chamber.

A timid rapping of knuckles against the tail, oaken doors heightened the gleam of anticipation smouldering in Lizette's emerald coloured eyes "You may enter," she called, peremptorily, patting the flannel gown smooth where she had replaced it below her knees.