Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

" W e eagerly await your commands, Madam Arabella," said Nev, his eyes twinkling with mischief and excitement as his gaze flicked between her and the very naked duke.

Oh God. They were both exceedingly handsome, but one man brimming with charm and confidence, the other a society iceberg melting in the warmth of sexual attention and choice, was like being presented with an entire dessert buffet. She wanted everything. Immediately. Which was rather unnerving for a woman who prided herself on control.

Being at Sanctuary always made her feel dangerously wild and wanton—perhaps another reason why she restricted their visits. Yet tonight, her fierce lust seemed limitless. There was no way even darling Neville and his magnificent tongue could calm such a tempest by himself; he would need the help of their nervous novice who was clearly aching to begin.

A fact that only made her wetter.

In truth, Arabella needed a moment to regather her thoughts, to be the stern and calm mistress they both needed, not a giddy girl.

"Stand together in front of the fireplace," she said abruptly. "Do not move. And do not dare touch yourselves. I am going to check everything is in place for our play."

Nev looked slightly startled at that; he knew as well as she that Sanctuary's preparation was always impeccable—extremely well-heeled patrons would accept nothing less. But she regally ignored him and instead strolled over to examine a neat row of trestle tables against one wall. Each table was covered in a crisp white linen cloth and illuminated by a single diamond-studded candelabra.

The first offered bottles of brandy, champagne, whisky, port, fruit punch, and lemonade, plus crystal tumblers and glasses. The second presented an array of the most exquisite sweets imaginable: pastries, cakes, fruit tarts, meringues, syllabub with whipped cream, chilled buckets of pineapple, chocolate cream, and brown bread ices from Gunter's, and various dishes of lemon drops, marzipan, caramels, and peppermint sticks. But the third table made her smile the most: a generous selection of new sexual accessories including dildos of various sizes, cock rings, nipple clamps, a riding crop, a flogger, a long, tapered feather, satin-lined shackles, silk scarves, and a full glass bottle of pale gold oil.

Superb, of course. Everything required for a wonderful night's play, with no expense spared. As Nev very disobediently restricted the gifts she could buy him to small items like dildos or perhaps new shoes or decent brandy, she was forced to be more creative—some might say cunning—in her spending. Hiring Sanctuary's very best room was one way of expressing love, just as she donated lavishly to his favorite causes.

But she couldn't delay their play for a moment longer, no matter what wild lusts or unprecedented emotions were swirling in her mind.

Arabella turned around and smiled at her husband and prospective lover. "Why don't you both come over here? Nev, darling, would you undress me? Slowly now, so Stanforth gets a premium view."

Nev near-flew across the chamber to assist. The gold tunics had been specially designed not to disturb masks or hair covering, so fastened with cords at the shoulder and waist. As soon as her husband loosened the ties, the satin garment fell to the floor and she stepped delicately out of it. Immediately, two sets of eyes seared her flesh, and she allowed herself the vanity of a full body stretch, lifting her arms above her head and arching her back as she performed a slow turn, before strolling over to the bed in a way that made her ebony hair float around her shoulders, her wide hips sway, and breasts gently bounce.

"Christ," breathed Stanforth.

"I know," said Nev reverently. "Hands down the most beautiful woman in England. Probably Europe as well."

Her lips twitching at the lavish compliments, Arabella caressed her dimpled backside, briefly parting her nether cheeks to tease them with a glimpse of her anus.

Both men groaned.

Satisfied she was driving them quite mad, Arabella then climbed up onto the end of the enormous bed and kneeled, putting her hands on her hips so they had an unobstructed view of her jewel-hard, dark pink nipples ready to be sucked, and her wet, musky-scented pussy.

God, the hunger in their gazes. The sheer, blatant need.

And she owned them both.

But with great power came great responsibility; a skilled and experienced dominant woman always ensured her submissives were as fulfilled as she was.

"Nev," said Arabella, beckoning him over. "Come closer."

With the bed beneath her knees, they were almost the same height, and she cupped her husband's face and kissed him deeply, before running greedy hands over his shoulders, his back and hips. Then, she dragged her fingernails over the flesh of his delectable arse, making Nev moan.

"I love you, Ara," he gasped. "Please. More."

Arabella glanced at Stanforth. Once again, the duke was standing with his hands rigidly at his sides, as though he was afraid of what they might do. And his eyes. Twin pools of hazel yearning. "I see you appreciate my husband's perfect arse as much as I do, Your Grace. But what do you see on that creamy canvas?"

Stanforth swallowed hard. "You made the letter A."

"Yes I did," purred Arabella. "Because Neville Carlisle is mine. My cherished pet…my goodness, do you know how hard Nev gets when I claim him so? Turn around, darling. Show Stanforth how close you are to coming."

Nev made a guttural sound as he obediently turned, his seed-damp cock bobbing against his abdomen. "So close," he whispered.

Arabella wrapped her arms around him from behind, threading her fingers through his chest hair, lightly scratching him before pinching his nipples. Nev shuddered, but he was far too experienced to buck. She rewarded his forbearance with kisses to his shoulder and a sharp nip to the neck, right where he liked it. "I enjoy teasing my husband. And marking him, as you can probably tell," she laughed. "Would you like to be marked, Stanforth?"

"Please," the duke said hoarsely.

After kissing Nev again, a rough, raw kiss that bruised his lips and left them a little swollen, she directed her husband to stand to one side, and beckoned Stanforth toward her. The duke was trembling slightly, but it was hard to know whether it was anxiety or arousal. Perhaps it was both, for his cock was so swollen, the head was a reddish-purple color. Poor man. Perhaps she should show mercy. It was his first time after all.

Cupping Stanforth's face, Arabella lightly massaged his temples and ran her fingers through his hair. Almost instantly, the duke closed his eyes and sighed softly. Damnation. The man might even be more touch-starved than Nev, and that was saying something.

Moving one hand, Arabella closed her fingers around the back of Stanforth's neck, holding him firmly in place. Then she kissed him softly, rubbing her lips against his over and over until he relaxed. Bloody hell, the duke might as well be a virgin!

She pressed her thighs together, a rather futile effort to ease the incessant throb of her clitoris. Between marking Nev and initiating Stanforth, her pussy couldn't be any needier.

"Open your mouth for my tongue," Arabella commanded. "But your hands stay by your sides…you too, Nev, don't you dare touch yourself while you watch us."

"Yes, ma'am," grumbled Nev, having the temerity to pout.

Clearly, he needed another spanking; this morning's efforts had not sufficiently quelled his disobedient streak. But making him wait and wait to come was a punishment in itself, so she looked back at Stanforth. The duke's cheeks were a little flushed, his temples glistening with perspiration, so she leaned forward and licked his lips before darting her tongue into his mouth. Slowly, skillfully, Arabella teased him until his tongue tentatively began pushing back, and soon they were tangling together.

Somehow, Arabella managed to stifle her moan. This duke might well become as good as Nev at kissing. "Now, Your Grace," she murmured unsteadily. "Where shall I mark you?"

"On my arse. Same as Carlisle," Stanforth panted. "Could…could you do the letter A on me as well?"

Arabella hesitated. The rational, logical part of her said no, that was an honor reserved solely for Nev, the man who permanently belonged to her, not a one-night lover. Besides the fact that she'd already broken the anonymity rule, allowing the removal of all masks and hair covers. And yet…entirely unbidden, her free hand was already sliding down to Stanforth's backside, her fingernails tapping on the firm, smooth flesh before scraping a palm-sized letter A.

Stanforth arched, moaning raggedly. "Forgive me, ma'am, I'm going to…I'm going to…"

In one smooth movement, Arabella took his thick cock in hand, ruthlessly squeezing and rubbing it. Then she nipped his lower lip. "Come," she ordered harshly.

The duke orgasmed with a low roar, seed exploding from his cock with the violence of an erupting volcano, covering her fingers and wrist and his own belly.

"There now," Arabella crooned, dusting his face with soft kisses as Stanforth slumped against her. "Isn't that so much better?"

Yet when her gaze met Nev's, for perhaps the first time in ten years, his face was unreadable.

Oh God. What had she done?

Something fundamental had changed.

Neville stared at the pair in front of him as he worked through the ramifications in his mind. His wife was a stern madam who never broke rules, especially in regard to playfellows, and she considered Sanctuary hallowed ground. Yet tonight, not only had Ara allowed it, she'd marked Stanforth's very fine arse with the letter A.

A claiming.

Ten years might have passed, but he still remembered the first time Ara had marked him. The joy, the relief of knowing he'd been chosen, that henceforth he would belong to her. Did Stanforth understand? Did Ara realize she had now claimed a second man? That rather than being a pair with occasional lovers, they would move forward as a trio? That remained to be seen.

As for himself…it was both surprising and remarkable that the emotions coursing through his veins were not sadness or jealousy or envy, but fierce arousal and pure elation. Even now he was anticipating the time that Stanforth embraced his own needs and desires, was properly cared for and disciplined…and crossed the final frontier of his journey: giving pleasure to, and receiving pleasure from, another man.

"Nev?" said Arabella, an underlying anxiety in her tone as she stroked a still-trembling Stanforth's hair.

His wife's concern was misplaced. It was right and proper that his fellow pet received post-orgasm care. Because Stanforth was the third they had been waiting for.

Neville took a deep breath. With each past playfellow, he'd wondered if they might be the one, that special man he would feel something other than mild lust for. A man to join him and Ara forever in a trio. Each time, he'd had an enjoyable romp, but nothing more. No desire to wrap his arms around the man and just hold him, to talk about anything and everything. To teach him. Sleep with him.

However, with Stanforth…all Neville's instincts demanded he kiss the other man, imprint himself so completely that the duke finally comprehended who he was: a submissive who craved both women and men. But no. Tonight was slow and gentle. A beginning. The glimmers were there; already Neville had caught Stanforth's lingering gaze several times. The duke was curious. Very, very curious. And not at all averse to watching a naked man touch his cock. But he'd clearly never before had the opportunity to explore. And this was not something that could be rushed or forced, especially for someone so inexperienced sexually, and struggling with the ducal cage he'd been raised in.

Arabella was their queen and would command them both. But as a fellow submissive, it was up to Neville to support and coax Stanforth, to offer demonstrations of what could be. To show him that a lady, her lord, and their duke could very much be forever.

"Let me fetch you both some water," said Neville eventually.

Arabella nodded while a blushing Stanforth looked grateful.

Neville smiled to himself as he strode over to the fireplace and carefully ladled some hot water from the hanging iron bucket into a porcelain bowl waiting beside it. Sanctuary's staff had also helpfully left a small packet of dried herbs, so he carefully sprinkled them over the water, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of thyme and rosemary with an approving nod. After snatching up two clean washcloths and a hand towel, he returned to the bed.

"Thank you, my darling," said Arabella softly, bestowing a kiss to his forehead. But her gaze still held grave concern, and he certainly didn't want that.

"Allow me to wash your magical hands, ma'am," he replied, before turning his head to Stanforth. "Help yourself to a washcloth, Your Grace. The water is hot, and it's scented with herbs. Lovely and refreshing. By the by, it's always good to get that first orgasm out of the way. Your second erection will last so much longer."

"My second ?" asked the duke, looking startled. "After the first…I'm not sure I'll recover."

Arabella laughed as she held out her seed-splashed hands. "Oh, you'll recover."

Rather endearingly, Stanforth blushed harder.

Neville immediately took a washcloth and cleaned Arabella's fingers, before patting them dry. He was actually appreciative of the mindless task, as it allowed time to further ponder Stanforth's past. How bad, exactly, had the duke's marriage been? And he'd never taken a mistress? On one hand it seemed unthinkable, and yet it explained so much of his virgin-like response to pleasure. He'd never come like that before.

Which only made it imperative that it happen again. The more Stanforth orgasmed outside a pussy and grew accustomed to the sensations, the easier it would be to train him. A man who had never experienced ecstasy in service of a beautiful dominant woman didn't know what he was missing and wouldn't strive for it. But a man who understood would become a man like Neville. Obedient yet provocative in the hope of discipline. Entirely, joyfully submissive.

God, he couldn't wait for Stanforth to find that Utopia.

When Arabella and Stanforth were both clean, Arabella climbed off the bed and sauntered over to the refreshment table. "I need sustenance," she said saucily. "And so will you both, for the game I have planned."

Neville shivered at the promise. Years of experience with his wife, of being tormented for hours and repeatedly denied orgasm while being teased mercilessly, meant the play she had in mind would be spectacular. But with Stanforth involved as well, already so sweetly succumbing to need…it would be a true challenge for Neville to retain his well-honed sexual nerves of steel. For there was something supremely erotic in watching a very proper duke, unable to hide his response, being utterly undone by pleasure.

Neville hurried over to the refreshment table and poured Arabella a glass of champagne. Then he turned to the duke. "Brandy? Or something else?"

"I'd love a brandy," said Stanforth. "Looks a fine color."

"Only the best at Sanctuary," said Arabella, as she picked up a plate. "Nev? What will you have?"

His mouth watered at the selection. "All the pastries and fruit tarts you can spare. Also an extremely generous scoop of brown bread ice."

Arabella shook her head with a sly wink. "No ice yet, I'm afraid."

Neville blinked, then raised an inquiring eyebrow at his wife. When she gave him a brief nod, he almost moaned. Oh God. They were going to play Winter and Summer, his absolute favorite erotic game, involving Gunter's legendary ices and Arabella's even more legendary breasts.

After filling a plate for him, Arabella cut a large slice of heavy fruit cake and added several meringues for Stanforth, then selected a dish of lemon syllabub with whipped cream and several pastries for herself. Once they had temporarily sated their hunger and finished their glasses of champagne and brandy, Arabella directed them to leave their dishes on one end of the table, then beckoned them back to the bed.

Slowly, with the care and precision of a stage performer that understood every movement mattered, Arabella climbed onto the bed. Then she padded on hands and knees to the center, tormenting him and Stanforth with glimpses of her soaked pussy, her thick bush, and her swaying breasts as she stretched and flexed. Finally, she turned onto her back, settling herself on a pile of pillows like an empress waiting to receive her subjects, carefully arranging her hair so it didn't become trapped under her back.

Neville could only stare at such a portrait. Arabella was an erotic goddess and it was an actual miracle from the heavens that she had chosen him. Except then she offered further proof, bestowing a wicked smile and sliding a hand down between her heavy thighs, parting her bush to offer an unobstructed view of her glistening pink labia, before lightly, delicately circling her swollen clitoris.

"Oooooh," she moaned.

He bit his lip, swallowing down a desperate plea to be able to suck that bud until she screamed, to fuck her core with his tongue until she came all over his face. No. It was too soon. Despite the fact that his cock was so hard it could be used in battle, he had to wait.

Stanforth made a guttural sound, utterly transfixed at the sight. "I've…I've never seen anyone so beautiful. So sensual. Ever."

Glancing down at the other man's rapidly hardening cock, Neville hid a smile. Stanforth was certainly answering his own question about recovery . "I'm sure you are wondering, Your Grace, but I am living proof that a man will not, in fact, perish from needing a woman more than he needs to breathe."

"How do you do it?" whispered the duke, his gaze actually admiring. "Obey and not lose your damned mind?"

Arabella laughed and spread her thighs a little wider apart. "My husband is exceedingly well trained, Your Grace. I should know, I trained him. But he has learned over time that with great patience and forbearance and attention to my pleasure…comes the kind of orgasm so intense, so powerful, and so long, that it drains him quite dry. What you enjoyed before is only the tip of the iceberg, as they say."

Stanforth actually swayed, looking a trifle dazed. Then he blinked, rallying himself in a way that only a duke could do. "You said…you said something about a game?"

Arabella raised an imperious brow. "I beg your pardon? Do remember that men not properly respectful are liable to be spanked."

The duke flushed. "Forgive me, ma'am. Please might we play the game you mentioned before?"

"Much better. And yes, I believe it is time for festivities to begin. Nev, darling, you know what is required."

Neville nodded eagerly. Not only would they soon be playing Winter and Summer, but Stanforth was about to receive a sexual lesson he would never forget.

Let the play begin.

In terms of erotic experience and knowledge, it was utterly humbling to know that he, Edmund Vane, Duke of Stanforth, was a babe in the woods compared to Arabella and Neville Carlisle. But what was also humbling: how generous they were in freely sharing that experience and knowledge when they gained nothing in return. No one ever did that in the ton. Everything was a transaction, whether it be money or favors, an introduction or patronage.

So while Edmund desperately wanted to forget who he was and romp like a beast in the rain, part of him remained wary. Cautious. Not just of making mistakes or being a fool, but wondering: what did they want ?

He'd already experienced the most astonishing orgasm imaginable at the hands of the most beautiful woman in England…while being watched and encouraged by a disturbingly compelling man. Yet now they were to play a sexual game that would prove such a release just the tip of the iceberg? Impossible.

However, what was also disturbing: his confusion when Madam Arabella threatened to spank him for not being properly respectful, in that strict governess tone. Why, when he truly wished to please her, did a part of him want to misbehave? It made no damned sense. Nor did his fascination with Carlisle's mouth. His elegant yet strong hands. And that long cock.

Christ.

A sharp slap to his bare arse jolted Edmund from his wayward thoughts. He gasped, both at the unexpected sting and faint warmth, and the way it made his cock throb. Was Madam Arabella's discipline always like that? Because it felt good . "Forgive me, ma'am. My mind wandered."

"Neville needs assistance," she said impatiently.

"Of course. Might I have the opportunity to atone?"

A warm male hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Now you're asking the right question, my friend," said Carlisle, as though he'd passed a difficult exam with aplomb. "But hurry up, you are delaying Winter and Summer, and that is a travesty. We need to fetch the ices."

"All three flavors," added Madam Arabella with a sultry smile. "It would be an insult to Gunter's otherwise. And don't forget a dildo."

Edmund followed Carlisle to the dessert table, then reached for the small bucket of pineapple ice. "Er…what is Winter and Summer?" he murmured.

The baron grinned as he collected the chocolate cream and brown bread ices. "Very simple. We decorate Arabella's breasts and belly with the ices…winter…then lick them off…summer. After that, I'll show you how to worship her pussy. It tastes even better."

Edmund blinked. Forget chess or whist, Winter and Summer was clearly the greatest game that could ever be played. Yet even in his anticipation, he couldn't help staring at Carlisle's fully erect cock. It was so big. So hard. And the other man had barely touched it. "Doesn't that hurt?" he whispered hesitantly. "Why don't you just come?"

"My cock hurts terribly," said Carlisle matter-of-factly. "But I don't yet have permission to come. Why do you ask? Do you want to suck it better, Your Grace? To have your mouth stuffed full?"

For the longest moment they held each other's gazes, and Edmund trembled.

What would it be like to suck a cock?

"Gentlemen," said Madam Arabella sharply. "You dawdle."

Carlisle shivered. "That governess tone is my fourth favorite thing, after her sweet pussy, her breasts, and the way she wields a riding crop. If only we had more time, Stanforth. I think you'd enjoy Madam's cruelest kiss. You can feel it for hours."

Pure unvarnished envy surged through Edmund. He might be a wealthy and powerful duke, but the Carlisles had so much more. Love. Affection. Passion. They lived to pleasure each other.

Stop it . Concentrate on what you do have: one night to learn.

After the baron also collected a thick dildo, the two men returned to the bed where Madam Arabella waited. She was perfection in contrast: creamy skin, dark pink nipples, vivid blue eyes and silken ebony hair. Now Carlisle had explained what Winter and Summer was, Edmund wanted to begin the game immediately. To take one of those taut nipples in his mouth. To taste her sweet center. To be entirely at Madam Arabella's mercy.

"Why Stanforth," she drawled, cupping one breast and tweaking the nipple as she moved restlessly on the bed. "Whatever are you pondering?"

"That if you crushed me between your thighs I would die happy," Edmund blurted.

Madam Arabella laughed, the merriest sound he'd ever heard. "Please me and you might receive such a reward. Now, feed me ices. Nev, show our duke how it's done."

"With pleasure, ma'am," said Carlisle as he scooped up chocolate cream for his wife. Then he took a second spoonful, dabbed it around her left nipple, and sucked it clean.

Her moan seared Edmund to his very soul.

"Now you, Stanforth," she instructed. "Pineapple."

With the precision of a watchmaker, he fed Madam Arabella the pale yellow ice. Next, he smeared the chilled confection around her right nipple, even daring to graze the jewel-hard peak with the cold metal spoon, and her ragged gasp gave him confidence like nothing else could. Swooping down, he engulfed her nipple in his mouth, sucking ravenously until she cried out.

"You taste so good," Edmund whispered unsteadily.

"Again," Madam Arabella commanded. "Again and again, both of you. Nev, put the dildo in my pussy. Don't stop until I come. Don't you dare ."

Almost shaking with arousal, Edmund watched Carlisle push the leather phallus deeply inside her, his finger hooked through a small metal circle at the end. Then they used Madam Arabella's breasts and belly like a dessert dish, decorating her skin with the ices and laving it off. Soon her flesh was covered in soft pink abrasions, her nipples sucked and bitten to decadent ruby. However, when Carlisle began expertly manipulating the dildo, easing it in and out of her core, twisting and turning the phallus as he gently nudged her clitoris, Madam Arabella writhed on the bed, her fingernails slashing at the sheets. Moments later, her orgasmic cries echoed in the chamber, full-throated sounds of ecstasy and triumph.

Once she lay still at last, Carlisle inhaled deeply of her soaked pussy. "May I taste, ma'am?"

"Use your fingers," said Arabella breathlessly as she nodded. "Show Stanforth what I like."

Slowly, reverently, Carlisle removed the dildo before pushing his middle finger inside her slick heat then withdrawing and lapping away the wetness with a guttural groan. Next, he sank two fingers in. "My wife has a greedy pussy. See how it grips my fingers, demanding another orgasm? Here. Taste heaven."

Confused, Edmund stared at Carlisle's honey-covered fingers.

"Lick them clean," said Madam Arabella. "Immediately."

At the stern command, Edmund's lips just parted and the baron smeared them with pearly wetness. The flavor exploded on Edmund's tongue, sweet and musky and instantly addictive. "More?"

Carlisle chuckled as he re-coated four fingers in nectar. "Here you go."

"Wait," said Madam Arabella harshly. "Fuck his mouth with your fingers. Like a cock."

Edmund hesitated. Could he take another man's fingers into his mouth? It was so intimate, so much more than merely watching a naked man. And yet when Carlisle waved his wet fingers under Edmund's nose, he craved that honey intensely.

Moaning, Edmund opened his mouth and received Carlisle's forceful fingers, all thoughts, all reason departing as his world reduced to pure instinct. No decision-making, just one task: sucking. But now his thirst had become unquenchable. "Please," he gasped hoarsely, unsure what he was even asking for.

Madam Arabella moved closer and put her hand on his shoulder, the touch both inflaming and supportive. "Stanforth needs your cock, Nev. Be the first to spill down his throat."

Carlisle groaned. "Kneel, love. You're going to suck me dry."

Gloriously humbled once more, Edmund accepted the baron's shaft into his mouth. Carlisle was careful and gentle to start, but soon thrust increasingly deeper and rougher, and the combined taste of earthy seed and musky pussy was delicious. But although Edmund's jaw ached and his eyes watered, it still wasn't enough. He wanted every inch of Carlisle's cock.

Mindless in his lust haze, Edmund gripped Carlisle's thighs and swallowed more cock, choking a little but continuing his frenzied sucking until he heard the most heavenly sound: the baron's orgasmic roar. Carlisle's seed gushing down Edmund's throat set off his own release and he reached down to grip his spurting cock, rubbing and squeezing to prolong the shockingly intense pleasure until he sagged against the end of the bed.

"Magnificent, Your Grace," said Madam Arabella as she smoothed his hair. "Simply magnificent. How far you've come!"

Edmund froze as reality hit like an anvil.

He'd gone too far. Being pleasured by a married woman was one thing, but he'd sucked another man's cock . And without the protection of a mask and hair cover, the couple knew exactly who he was. While he might know them intimately, he didn't know them. And now, like the worst of fools, he'd granted Neville and Arabella Carlisle the power to ruin him.

Lust fled as absolute panic consumed him. Staggering to his feet, Edmund dashed around the room to snatch up his discarded mask and put on a complimentary quilted robe. Then he stumbled toward the door.

"Wait!" called Madam Arabella. "Please…"

Ignoring her concern, his skin icy, his vision blurring and teeth chattering at yet another terrible mistake entirely of his own making, Edmund fled the room.

Last time his punishment had been a loveless marriage.

To which fresh hell would this lead?