The Stallion (17 page)

If Nadine either noticed or had contrived the coupling that had just happened, she said nothing to Penny.

‘Are you ready for me now, my pretty pussy?’ she asked, her
voice
all sweetness and honey. ‘Are you willing now to follow my rules, to play my games?’

As she spoke, her long, soft fingers traced circles up and down Penny’s spine before they curved around the crop and jerked it slightly so its handle jumped inside her.

‘Yes, Nadine. I’m ready.’ She moaned again as Nadine nudged the handle in a little further.

‘You are sure of that?’

‘I’m sure, Nadine. I’m sure. Please. I’m aching. Please do something.’

Nadine sighed almost regretfully, then pulled the crop from where it had been so tightly gripped. She undid the bonds as she talked, raised Penny up, then pushed her to her knees. The horse collar remained around her neck.

‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘after dinner, you will play my first game. You will be my cabaret. Whatever and whoever is offered to you, you will take. Is that clear?’

‘Yes,’ Penny answered, head suitably bowed, which she felt somehow was what was expected of her. Inside she was burning with anticipation.

‘Good,’ Nadine replied coldly. ‘Then we’re agreed on that.’

With an obvious sense of purpose, Nadine unzipped her trousers and pulled them down slightly so her mons was yet again exposed.

Without urging, Penny kissed it.

7

TONIGHT HER OUTFIT
was darker than her hair. The top was little more than a tube against which her breasts rebelled and showed through in blatant relief.

Black trousers matched the top. They had a sash waistband that tied at one side. Once pulled, the trousers would just drop to her ankles – soft, silky and with a distinct hush.

Tonight only gold jewellery relieved her darkness. Her earrings were gold. So was her necklace and the Celtic half-bangle on her right wrist. The metal glowed against the pale cream of her skin and the darkness of her hair. Her eyes shone like two bright sapphires which were made all the more bright by the blackness of her eyelashes. She wore gold sandals with high heels that stretched her calves and caused her buttocks and bosom to thrust in opposite directions. There was no underwear between her and the soft caress of silk against her skin.

‘You look glorious, my dear.’ Alistair stood alone by the open door. The others had already gone in. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes travelled downwards over her tight bodice, her belly and thighs.

She moved a little, pirouetting on her high heels, her hips swaying. Behind her was one of the long windows that swept from ceiling to floor. Light still filtered through, and as the material of her trousers was very fine, it shone through and he could see the dark patch of hair nestling between her creamy thighs.

‘How very kind of you to say so.’

He offered her his hand, though now politeness took over from appraisal. She took it anyway, and studied him as he led her into the room, left her at her chair, and went round the other side of the table to take his own.

Hair high and pulled into a ponytail, it swung as Penny took her seat. Something about tonight made her feel special. This feeling could have been the result of knowing that all eyes were upon her or may have been the residue of those dark feelings deep inside that begged for acknowledgement. She looked at each of her fellow diners in turn, and they all responded individually.

Nadine winked suggestively, her usual sardonic smile gently tilting the corners of her mouth. With difficulty, she looked away.

Alistair’s glances were sporadic. When she raised her eyes to meet his, he looked guiltily away. Each time Penny was aware of a look passing between him and his sister.

Auberon had a pink face tonight. Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe it was his deepest thoughts that made him blush and stammer that way. Either way, he was looking at her, blinking and taking big gulps from his very full glass. He smiled, and his eyes glittered expectantly.

Tonight felt good and so did she. The mix of smells heightened that excitement: good food; fine wine; the smell of men and her own perfume mixed with the heavy scent of huge cut blooms in blue-and-white Chinese vases on the long sideboard. There was a breathless sensuality almost tangible in the air. Eyes glittered and voices were soft and husky like a mild sea breeze blowing over coarse sand.

‘A little more wine?’ asked Sir Reggie, breaking into her thoughts in that gentlemanly way of his.

‘Yes please,’ she answered with a smile. Her ponytail swung merrily as she turned to face him. She held up her glass and
watched,
almost hypnotically, as the dark-red liquid poured into the bowl of lead crystal.

After some pretty healthy eating and drinking, her top wriggled down and her breasts thrust upwards, round and shiny like balloons about to burst. Her nipples peered over her black top like two frightened eyes. As he poured the wine, Sir Reggie’s eyes were fastened on them. His hand shook and the wine bottle trembled; some of the red liquid missed the glass and streamed over her gleaming mounds. She gasped as a large trickle disappeared down the cleft in between.

‘Oh, my dear. I do apologise most sincerely. How clumsy of me. Allow me, my dear.’ Sir Reggie covered her hand with his. ‘l made the mess. Let me clear it up.’

Silence descended over those gathered as Sir Reggie lowered his mouth on to Penny’s breasts. All eyes upon her and Sir Reggie’s tongue lapping at her bosoms, Penny let herself become part of the atmosphere she had felt earlier. She purred with pleasure and felt herself and her senses blend as easily as coffee and cream. Sir Reggie’s tongue licked long and ponderously as he savoured the bouquet and the taste on his tongue of the unusual combination of perfume, flesh and wine.

‘Allow me, my dear,’ he said, as courteous as only a gentleman like him could be. ‘I noticed that it dribbled down through. I insist on dealing with it.’

She nodded without speaking, her breath quickening with brazen abandon as he rolled down her bodice and let her breasts spring completely free. Then, slowly, as though enjoying every diverse taste on his tongue, he licked all over her proud orbs and down her cleavage.

Gasps of pleasure broke from her throat. His tongue was hot and pleasantly wet. It had a certain rasp to its tissue, a bit like that of a cat.

Despite, or perhaps to spite, the watching eyes, she pushed
her
breasts towards his mouth, and closed her eyes as his hair caressed her nipples. His tongue followed the contours of her breasts, tracing each gentle curve and valley; his tongue lapped her satin flesh around the dark halos in which her nipples sat demanding and receiving avid attention. Tenderly he sucked each one, rolled them on his tongue and neatly prodded with its tip.

When she opened her eyes, she looked over his head at each of the other dinner guests. Auberon was transfixed on what Sir Reggie was doing. Nadine’s smile was wider than it had been.

‘I think I’ve cleared all of it up,’ Sir Reggie said at last with a smile. He brought his head up level with hers, and salaciously licked his lips. She had expected him then to handle her bosoms, to play to the crowd so to speak, seeing as she was so obviously tonight’s cabaret. But he didn’t. Instead, and to her surprise and disappointment, he pulled up her tube bodice, cupped a bosom in one hand and put it back in, then did the same to the other. He appeared to take great pleasure in doing this, as though they were priceless treasures that he had rescued from tarnish or destruction and was just gathering them in for further study later.

Penny took this in the spirit in which it was meant, though she had been enjoying his tongue.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, though inside her senses were screaming for more. ‘I’m sorry to have put you to all that trouble.’

‘No trouble at all, my dear. Always willing to do my duty.’ She saw him exchange looks with Alistair. Tonight, like Sir Reggie, and even like Auberon, Alistair wore a dinner suit. Yet he didn’t look quite so stiff as the others. There was something about him still slightly casual. It was the way, she thought, of the rich and confident. There was definitely a skill in looking formal whilst maintaining an air of casual indifference.

Penny felt almost triumphant when she saw Alistair eyeing her intensely, despite dark scowls from Nadine. His mouth was slightly open as though he were catching his breath. She saw him swallow. In that moment, she knew once more that he wanted her. But what was keeping him from attempting her seduction? What barrier did he have to overcome before he could bury his cock in her and cry his climax into her ear?

But Nadine’s dark scowls seemed to get the better of him. He looked serious before he cleared his throat and began to speak.

‘Nadine tells me you lost concentration this afternoon. I don’t like that.’ Although he was in effect chastising, his voice was even, as steady as the day he had got her to parade through the town with him. It was still gloriously deep, as if erupting from some deep fissure in the earth’s crust. All the same it made her defensive, but then, of course, she felt that was what she was expected to be – something to give cause for rebuke.

‘I hit the fence,’ she replied hotly, her limbs already starting to tremble with apprehension. ‘That’s all. Four faults.’ She saw Alistair raise his eyebrows. She also saw the faint nod of approval from Nadine. Obviously, she was egging him on.

The rugged features of Alistair Beaumont remained unchanged as though he were as crystal as his overhead chandeliers. In an effort to control her rising excitement, Penny looked beyond him to the windows and the reflected room and figures. It was almost as if there were two worlds, she thought; two Beaumont Places. In one of them lived real people. In the other, there were only shadows, bare reflections of the people that really existed, and those reflections were dark, muted, but could burn bright at any time just like the hidden emotions within herself.

His voice brought her back to the real room and the real people. ‘So. You admit it. You lost concentration.’

‘Yes.’ She said it with a dismissive laugh. At her side, Sir
Reginald
cleared his throat and began to fidget. She glanced at him. There was a sparkle in his eyes.

‘I did lose concentration – just for a moment. I smiled at Auberon,’ Penny said casually. ‘Perhaps I was too pleased at having cleared all the jumps, too cocksure about clearing the last one as well.’

Smiles and low chuckles seemed suddenly to surround her.

‘Or even too cock-happy?’ drawled Nadine, her voice as long and drawn-out as her suck on her customary cheroot.

Despite his sister’s humour, Alistair’s face was unchanged but, deep in his eyes, something stirred; something as dark as it was exciting. Penny caught that look. Her eyes were locked with his. She felt as though she were diving into unknown waters – waters the more sensible would steer clear of. But she would plunge into those waters headlong. In the aftermath of the release of those dark feelings within her, the sensual had come to outweigh the sensible.

A flush of defiance and trepidation lit her face as she glanced from the self-assured paleness of Nadine to the pretty shade of pink that coloured Auberon’s cheeks. She knew what they wanted, knew what was expected of her. ‘My sex life is my own affair,’ she retorted hotly, and eyed each of her colleagues for their response.

‘Not while you are at Beaumont Place,’ Alistair said grimly. ‘As I am sure my sister has told you, while you are here you become part of my team. Becoming part of my team means you give yourself up, body and soul, to this place and your sport.’

For a moment she wondered if she’d gone too far. She didn’t think so, but this was her first foray into the world of master, mistress and object of punishment. She reined in her words. ‘I didn’t mean to step out of line. I’m sorry if I offended anyone.’

‘My sister tells me you took advantage of Stephen,’ Alistair began, his eyes seeming to study the two silver pheasants that
decorated
the middle of the table. ‘Oh,’ he added, shaking his head when she tried to interrupt, ‘I don’t blame you. It’s just that I thought a woman of your experience and intelligence would indulge in a higher level of sexual adventure than tumbling in the straw with a common stable-lad – a straightforward act of copulation.’

He watched for her reaction and kept to himself the knowledge that he and Nadine had watched nearly everything she had done since coming here. While he had watched, his cock had throbbed almost painfully against the tight rubber of his pants. But he had borne that pain, sure in the knowledge that his sex drive was becoming more powerful than that of an ordinary man. It was being conserved, saved like a bundle of electrical charges and set to explode in one almighty consummation when the moment was right.

But the antics of the dark-haired Penny had almost made him plead with his sister to release him from his strictures and have Penny right away. Nadine, thankfully, had refused. And of course, as usual, she had been right. A man of fibre does not give in to weakness. He saves his assets, acquires as much as possible until the time is ripe for a series of performances, not just one. Then what he had would be hers, and once its task was done, his prick would diminish and lie dormant, waiting until the next time.

In the heat of the opulent room, Penny felt her cheeks redden. She didn’t like being thought of as unadventurous. Of course she was sophisticated enough to indulge in the more esoteric sexual scenarios. In the heat of the moment, the part she should play was forgotten. She rose to her feet, her fists slamming down on the table.

‘The chance was there. I took it. What am I supposed to do here? Become a nun?’

She felt a warm hand caress the backs of her legs and knew
that,
inadvertently, she had made the right move and spoken the right words. She looked down into the yearning expression and strong features of Sir Reginald. What a man he must have been when he was younger, she thought momentarily. He was still something to look at even now. There was a military set to his chin, a hardness to his face and body that only rigid exercise and army life could possibly have moulded.