The Taming of a Vixen

I am so sorry that I am only posting two stories today. I got the first of my two covid vaccines yesterday and I know two is all I can do. I will go for more tomorrow. I wish they had stressed the side effects of the vaccine. Anyhoo...enjoy! Oh and I forgot, I love hearing from you and your comments and votes are the only way I know how I am doing. Take care all. Times will be looking up for us all soon, I hope and pray.

Chapter Six

Jason watched as she moved from one pair of arms to another. She laughed and talked, using her fan to flirt with the bevy of men that gathered around her like bees to the honey. She smiled up at the man who put his hand on her shoulder, her bare shoulder, as if he had every right to do so. And inside, he burned.

Jealousy, previously unknown and completely unwanted, burned in his gut. He wanted to walk over there and stake his claim, like some caveman. Perhaps he should get a club and knock all those men out; throw her over his shoulder, take her to his home and make her remember him. His teeth ground when he saw her lift her hand to another love-struck swain, rising to walk with him to the dance floor.

"So ask her to dance before you grind your teeth into splinters, old chum"

"I don't see you running up to Cat to ask her to dance," Jason said, fixing Teddy with a mind your own damn business stare.

"I'm working my way around to her," Teddy groused, lifting his glass of champagne with a grimace. "God, but I hate this stuff. It's like sweet bubbles."

"That's so very pedestrian of you, Teddy."

"Admit it, you'd rather be nursing a brandy or something stronger yourself." Teddy smiled as he watched Jason's jaw flex again. It was amazing to see him like this, jealous of some debutante who didn't even look at him twice.

He'd been privy to the story of the gala night , though he was sure even he didn't get told everything. And he'd been nagging his friend to go back to see her. To sneak into her bedchamber wearing the mask and see what happened.

It would make an interesting tale, to say the least.

"Whether I want a brandy or not isn't the issue here, Teddy." He sighed, running his hand with frustrated fury through her hair. "How can she let them touch her like that?" He set his glass down and took a step toward the man who'd just brushed his lips against her bare neck.

Teddy grabbed his coat, barely able to stop him without causing a scene. "Wait a minute, Jason. Bloody hell man, you can't go and beat the man to a pulp because he kissed her neck."

"Watch me," Jason growled, turning that fierce stare on his friend.

Teddy swallowed hard, knowing he was probably going to pay for this the next time they got into the ring together. "No, Jason. If you go over there and do what I see in your eyes, you'll go to jail and she'll be left to make it up to the man."

Jason stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "Fine, I won't kill him," he grumbled. "But I can't watch this anymore. I'm going for a walk in the gardens." He turned on his heel and headed towards the open doorway, ignoring any and all who tried to hail him in passing.

Some heads turned Teddy's way and he just shrugged, holding his hands up as if to say "who can say what is in his head?"

Jason stepped into the cool evening air, walking away from the main balcony with its congregating throng and heading towards a darker, deeper part of the garden. The flowers grew wild in this area, the paths less tended and rockier. He was glad for the sturdy shoes he'd put on earlier. Strolling slowly through the tangled flora he breathed its spicy scent in deeply, enjoying the cool air and the soft sounds of the few night birds who flew through the early spring evening, hunting dinner.

He'd spent one night with the chit; not even a full night. But what a night, he thought, a small smile coming to his lips. She'd been sinfully responsive to his every touch, giving him back everything he gave and more. She'd made him blind with pleasure, turned him inside out with every touch and kiss, captured him with her every word. She was perfect.

And he'd been unable to get the image of her, of her body with its perfect lines and beautiful long legs, out of his mind. He dreamt of her, waking painfully hard and throbbing as his dreams led him back to that deserted barn and the night of the storm.

He was never like this, so obsessive over one woman. He liked variety, he liked experience in his women. So why was he so fixated on one virginal little chit? He'd even been ducking his own mistress, no longer interested in her well practiced charms.

"Oh, bloody fucking hell," he swore, picking up a loose stone and throwing it with all his might into the underbrush. Walking over to an ancient bench, he plunked down on it and stared at his hands.

"Stop!"

Jason's head came up, his nostrils flaring as if trying to catch a scent. It was her voice. He'd know it anywhere.

"I said, stop! Now, before I call for help!" A strangled scream followed, as if

something had been used to muffle her words.

Jason followed the sound of her voice, coming out into a more well tended part of the garden and in view of a sight that made his blood run hot and his eyes see red. His Alyssa was struggling in the arms of the man who'd been so presumptive as to kiss her neck earlier. Now, it seemed as if he were trying to do more than kiss her. His hands were all over her, his mouth moving clumsily over her lips.

Jason was across the space that separated them in seconds, his hands coming up to drag the bounder off of Alyssa, growling as he threw him to the ground. "The lady said no."

The man got up, wiping his hands on his pants as he stared at the interloper who had pushed him away from the lady of his choice. "Who are you that you think you can come between me and my fiancée, sir?"

Jason heard Alyssa's gasp and knew the man was lying. "Lady Alyssa has much better taste than to become engaged to a sniveling little jackanapes like you."

The insult hit its mark, causing the man to stiffen. He stepped forward, his head bowing menacingly. "My seconds will be calling if you will but give me your card so that I know where to send them."

If the man expected to bluff his opponent into submission, he was clearly unaware of whom he was confronting. Jason drew his calling card from a pocket of his coat and delivered it to him smartly and without the slightest hesitation. The man blanched when he saw Jason's name and title etched in gold upon the pristine white card. "Your Grace," he said, bowing before turning away with one last scornful look at Alyssa.

Jason took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Are you all right, Lady Alyssa?"

"F...fine, Your Grace, thank you. I hope you don't plan to meet with him over this incident. I am unharmed. I would not wish to see ill come to you for my stupidity in coming into the garden with the rogue." She straightened her hair quickly, pushing in the few pins her attacker had managed to pull out.

"It will be my pleasure to teach that young pup a lesson in manners in your name, my lady," he said, bending over her fingers and letting his lips rest for just an instant against her smooth skin. He heard her gasp and smiled, slowly releasing her hand as he stood. "May I escort you back to the ball?" he asked, holding out his arm.

"T...thank you, Your Grace. I'm afraid that our first meeting wasn't very pleasant and my demeanor was sorely lacking that day. I am sorry about your t...thigh. I hope I didn't cause too horrendous of a wound." She took his arm, feeling a tiny shiver shoot through her at the sensation of his hard arm under the soft material of his coat.

"It was nothing, a slight bruise. I was amazed by the quality of your horse flesh and your skills with your mount. Have you had him long?"

"All his life," she laughed. "I raised him from a tiny baby. He used to follow me around the stables, always begging for my attention. When I realized how intelligent he was, I started to train him to do a few assorted tricks. He can bow and dance, also."

"Impressive," Jason said, though his mind wasn't on the horse. No, it was on the way she felt, her hand resting upon his forearm, her breasts brushing the back of his arm as she walked. He felt as if he'd erupt; wishing that he could turn and take her in his arms, kiss her the way he wanted. "Lady Alyssa," he said suddenly, turning to stare at her in the light that came from the ballroom.

"May I call upon you? Perhaps accompany you on one of your rides?"

Alyssa felt flustered, not an unusual feeling when she was around him. He'd flustered her the first time they met and he seemed to enjoy making her feel that way. "Ah, certainly, Your Grace. I would be honored to have you accompany me on a ride. My father is hosting a small hunting party out at our country estate this Saturday. Perhaps you'd care to join us there."

"I'd be delighted." He bowed over her hand, smiling when he saw her blush as his lips touched her knuckles once more. "I shall leave you here, then, my lady. Enjoy your evening." He turned upon his heels, heading out the way they had come.

He was soon in his coach, unwilling to watch as any more lovesick swains mooned over Alyssa while she sat in their midst. She was so close but so completely separated from him. Intent separated them, for it was his intent to bed her again; and again if necessary, until she was no longer so constantly in his thoughts and dreams.

He thought of stopping to see Abigail, something he'd been putting off for over a week now, sending one excuse after another when she would send around an invitation. He didn't want her; he didn't want any woman any more. He wanted Alyssa.

She'd worn white tonight, the color of innocence and purity. But on her, the color had been more ethereal, her hair a bonfire of thick curls left to spiral down her back from the crown of her head. The curves of her body left him aching to touch her. The skin she left bare had seemed so soft, calling his hands to touch as he had once before, that night in the storm.

With a sigh, he realized he was at his house. He jumped lithely down from the coach, waving away the coachman and hurrying up to the door. His butler greeted him, handing him a note that had arrived while he was gone. He took it with a sigh, certain of its origin. Abigail was once more demanding his presence.

"Have my stallion brought around," he told his butler. He'd put this off long enough. He had to make the break. "Let me know when he's ready. I'll be in my room."

Going upstairs he stripped out of his coat, flipping loose the intricate knot of his cravat and slipping it off. He would go to visit, but he would be comfortable doing it. Grabbing the same scuffed black coat he'd worn the other night, he slid it over his white shirt, buttoning it before sitting down to change from his dress shoes with their wide gold buckles to well-polished riding boots. They shone, his face clearly seen in the reflection.

When the knock came at his door, he was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, staring into the flames, seeing her face. She had to be some kind of witch; she had him under a spell, a spell he was unable to break. Perhaps it would just take time; perhaps he just needed to see her again. Perhaps if he made love to her again he would find that those intense and all encompassing feelings she had aroused were nothing more than a fluke. Yes, and perhaps if he tried really hard, he could grow feathers and fly to the moon.

Jason rose, going to a small drawer in his writing desk retrieving the black scarf mask. He tucked it in the pocket of his coat and then turned and left the room.

The ride to Abigail's was made with little noise but the sound of his horse's hooves on the hard-packed ground. He listened to the insects buzzing and chirping in the grass and trees. The scent of spring was in the air, even though it had grown cooler. Jason delivered his horse to the small stable that was located at the back of the house, leaving the stable boy with a coin and the instructions to keep him saddled; he wouldn't be here long.

He walked around the corner of the house and opened the door.

A giggle came from the drawing room, and then another; his eyebrow quirked at the sound. The rumble of a man's voice, deep timbered, reached his ears and he followed the sound.

* * *

Abigail was in heaven. She'd been lonely for so long, tired of sleeping alone and of being trapped in this house, the prisoner of her own way of life. Now she was naked but for the frilly corset she wore that pushed up her full breasts, leaving her nipples to peep out from the strands of her blonde hair.

Between her legs, his cock pumping avidly into her wet pink cunt, was the son of the man who'd started her on this road. His hands were on her hips, his fingers digging into the plump curve, pulling her down on him with every thrust.

This wasn't their first time coupling this night, nor their second. The wonders of youth, she thought, feeling another of the many orgasms he'd given her starting in the core of her being, a core that was being plundered well and handily by the young man.

He wasn't Jason. He didn't have the finesse or the sensitivity of her protector. But, oh God, could he fuck.

She fell backwards as young Jack pushed her off of him, laughing when he grabbed her hips and tipped her onto her face, plunging into her from behind like a stallion riding his mare. His big hand slapped down on her soft, rounded bottom, urging her to move for him as he started a punishing rhythm. She was climaxing in seconds.

* * *

Jason stood and watched the young man. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, for his chest had yet to fill out and his arms were still slightly on the scrawny side. He had a good technique, Jason thought, watching as he spanked Abigail until she moved the way he wished, hearing his mistress whine and squeal her pleasure loudly.

He could have interrupted their play, barged in like the wronged lover, but instead, he stood and watched, waiting until they were finished. A chuckle almost escaped him as the youngster leaned over Abby, grabbing a hold of her large breasts and squeezing them as if he were milking a cow. He held them tightly, pulling her back against him by the soft handfuls. His face, or what Jason could see of it, was tight and his grunts were loud and boisterous.

And then the youth's pale buttocks jerked and twitched, his head falling back as he came inside Abigail's sweet quim. As soon as he stopped twitching, Jason stepped forward, applauding. "Bravo, young man. That was a very nice show."

"Jason!" Abigail's expression was priceless and one Jason would remember for a long time. She was shocked, appalled and embarrassed. Her young friend on the other hand, smiled lazily back at Jason, slowly pulling his still semi-hard cock from the heat of Abigail's pretty pink cunt. A string of pearly white spunk hung between the two, as if connecting them.

At least until Abigail moved, grabbing her gown and holding it to her breast as she tried to stand. The boy's smile grew when he saw her stumble before standing unsteadily on legs that shook. "What are you doing here?" she gasped.

"I do believe this is my house," Jason said, folding his arms over his chest. "And the last time I looked, you were my mistress. Did that change?"

He saw the stony look that crept upon her face, watched as her chin tipped up proudly, even though her lips still trembled. "I wasn't sure of my position, Jason. I haven't seen you in so long."

Jason smiled, knowing that she would play that card. "And is that any reason for bring this boy into my house?"

"I was lonely."

"Hmm, yes, it seems that this young man has taken very good care of your 'loneliness' now."

"Well, if you had come to see me, I wouldn't have been bored and lonely." Abigail stepped forward, her blue eyes flashing, her posture stiff with rage.

"Then I guess we shall have to make sure that doesn't happen again, won't we?" Jason answered her mildly, watching as her eyes narrowed, knowing she was trying to decide what he meant by that comment.

"I doubt that this young man has the quid to afford you, especially not in the way you expect. But I shall be generous. You may keep this house and the coach and four. I shall pay the staff until the end of the month and you may keep the money I put in the household account for you. But after that, I am done." Jason bowed slightly, before turning on his heel to walk out of the room.

He heard Abigail scurry after him, trying desperately to throw her gown over her head and catch him at the same time. With a sigh, knowing it was going to be messy, he waited at the wide doorway. "Yes?" he asked her quietly.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him, her voice plaintive. Her hands grabbed his arm, her fingers like tiny vices that pinched through the thick fabric of his coat.

"It is time, Abigail. You were a terrific mistress, but the bloom is off the rose. It is better this way, for now, you shall have your own home."

"But I love you," she said, big tears growing in her pretty blue eyes, one sliding down her cheek as she put on a maudlin mien.

Jason tried not to laugh but he felt so relieved that the whole affair had ended, he had problems hiding his joy. "Abigail, you don't love me, you love the idea of not having to spread your legs for an assortment of men. I have given you a house as a parting gift. What more could you want?"

"I wanted to be your wife," she said, rubbing her breasts against his arm and looking up at him from under her lashes.

He burst out laughing, he couldn't help it. "I would expect my duchess to be faithful, Abigail. You couldn't be faithful for a week before you were spreading your...ahem...favors to other men. I'm sorry, my dear. But our association is at an end. I shall send around the title of the house tomorrow."

He pulled her fingers off his arm, stepping away quickly. "Goodnight, and goodbye," he said, opening the front door and slipping through it as he heard her sobs start.

Before the door closed, he heard the young man from the drawing room. "Buck up, Abigail. If you're a good girl, perhaps I can be talked into marrying you."

Jason was so relieved the scene he'd expected had been avoided that he almost danced around the corner of the house and back to where the stable boy was brushing out his horse's mane. He flipped a coin that sent the boy stuttering his thanks and took the reins, mounting easily and turning the horse's head towards Alyssa's lush estate.

Luck was with him this night, for he made the trip easily, seeing no one. More importantly, with no one seeing him. Even inside the gardens of the house, there was no one in evidence. He slipped off his horse, walking to where the balcony hung, just above his head. Jumping, he managed to grab it, grunting softly as he lifted himself using the strength of his arms alone. Swinging his leg over the railing, he stared at the dark windows that were Alyssa's.

He stopped just long enough to tie on the mask, sneaking over to lift the latch on the door, praying that it wouldn't be locked against him. With an almost silent click, it opened, sliding inward on whisper-soft hinges.

Just as quietly, he slipped the door closed, then turned, letting his eyes get used to the darkened room. He heard the sound of breathing, slow and deep, coming from the shadowed shape of the bed and wished he could take the chance to light a candle, but he didn't dare. Instead, he slowly tiptoed across the floor, coming to stand next to it. Looking down, he saw a length of dark hair, a pale arm lying limply against the dark foil of the comforter.

As his eyes grew more accustomed to the lack of light, she came into focus. She was beautiful in her sleep, soft and fragile, her lips barely parted. It was Sleeping Beauty, so exquisite as to take his breath away.