A Ducal Seduction

Author's note:

Before reading this installment, please read the first chapter of this story called "A Ducal Wedding Night," so you can better understand Jeremy's machinations and his friends' motives. Thanks and enjoy!

*

Cynthia, her Grace, the Duchess of Norland, walked along a secluded path in Vauxhall Gardens on the arm of the Duke of Pembroke. The nighttime air was cool, and a slight breeze whispered along her skin. She glanced up at her companion, taking in his dark, attractive features in the dim light. Noticing her regard, he glanced down and gave her a smile, his sensual mouth turning up at the corners.

A blush stained her cheeks and Cynthia quickly looked forward again, towards the path before them. She could hear the voice of her husband, Jeremy, behind them; he and the Duke of Stamford were discussing a recent auction at Tattersalls. They seemed to be lagging further and further back while Pembroke seemed to be gradually hastening her steps forward, widening the space between the two pairs of their party.

The narrow, shadowed paths of Vauxhall reminded Cynthia of her first kiss with Jeremy during their courtship, when he had dragged her into a deserted corner and caught her in such a passionate embrace that she was a moaning, writhing mass of need when it ended. It was as if all of the inhibitions that had been ingrained in her since birth had flown away as soon as he had touched his lips to hers.

As the memories flooded her mind, Cynthia opened her fan with a flick of her wrist, applying it to her overheated face. Despite all she had done with the Duke since their wedding three weeks ago, the thought of that illicit kiss still made her feel overly warm. Her pussy gave an indecent throb.

"It is quite mild tonight, is it not, Duchess?" Pembroke remarked. She nodded and he went on. "I must say, you are looking quite ravishing as always. Is that a new gown?"

She couldn't fail to notice that his eyes were set squarely on her bosom. Her new husband had very decided opinions on the way his Duchess was to dress, and this gown, commissioned shortly after their marriage, was no exception. The bodice was cut extremely low, on the very edge of what was acceptable. Her nipples were one deep breath from making a scandalous appearance. Jeremy had heartily approved when she had come out of her dressing room this evening. He had joked that he liked to see her most charming assets on display, and it seemed that Pembroke was also in agreement. An improper thrill ran through her at the hot gaze of a man not her husband.

"It is a creation of Madame Dubois," she said, naming one of the most exclusive modistes in town.

"She has outdone herself. Although with a model such as you, it would be hard not to flatter. I believe that color suits you very well, Duchess. Come, let us see how it looks in the moonlight." He had somehow guided her to a very remote path, with lanterns set much further apart. In a shadowy alcove, he crowded her against a tree, staring down at her with his glittering, black eyes.

In a strained whisper, Cynthia said, "Sir?" She no longer heard her husband or Stamford behind them; in fact, she could hear no one at all in the thick, dark silence.

"Just as I thought. Simply lovely in moonlight," Pembroke said, his voice husky and low. He reached out a finger and traced it from the hollow of her throat down across the milky swell of one breast until it rested at the edge of her bodice, just above her nipple.

Cynthia couldn't speak. Her heart thudded like a drum. She wasn't sure if she should scream for her husband or if she feared being discovered in such a compromising position. Pembroke's actions were indecent and impudent, but as soon as he had touched her, she melted inside, just as she always did when Norland touched her. She stood still, quivering and enthralled.

"Your skin is like alabaster, Duchess, smooth and silky to the touch." His finger ran across her skin at the edge of the bodice to her other breast, and he slipped it in, scraping his nail lightly across her taut nipple, eliciting a pulse of desire in Cynthia's pussy.

Her eyes fell closed as she let a tiny moan escape. How embarrassing that such a light touch had rendered her entirely at this man's mercy, in so short a time! Her arms hung loosely at her sides and a shiver went through her when she felt Pembroke's lips on the side of her neck, ghosting over her skin.

"How very responsive you are, Duchess. How very... biddable." His lips came to a stop against her own, hovering there. She felt his warm, sweet breath for a moment. Then Pembroke slid both hands over her breasts, cupping them through her gown.

As soon as he thumbed her nipples, she gave in to the irresistible impulse, straining up to meet him in a deep, open-mouthed kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed for a long minute, tasting each other, and all the while Pembroke fondled her breasts, kneading them and making her pussy gush.

Suddenly, he wrenched apart, breathing heavily, setting her away with his hands on her shoulders. In a daze, Cynthia heard Stamford's voice in the distance and footsteps coming nearer.

"I believe I saw them go down this path," he said.

She hurriedly smoothed her gown and tried to calm her breathing as Pembroke held out his arm. When the two Dukes came around the corner, she and Pembroke were strolling back, affecting a casual air that she certainly didn't feel. Cynthia prayed Jeremy could not see how flushed her face was. She was mortified; their wedding had been only three weeks ago and she had already broken her marriage vows.

"Ah, here you both are!" Stamford's voice seemed loud in the darkness. "You've chosen a rather secluded path. Is there anything to see down there?" He did not have to strain to see above their heads as his height was already that of a towering giant.

"Nothing to see, I'm afraid, but the sound and feel of the Gardens in the moonlight is quite something," said Pembroke. Cynthia noticed that he looked straight at Jeremy as he said this. Her husband's lips twitched slightly as he ushered them back onto the main path.

The group returned to their supper box and were seated at the table in the intimate alcove. Cynthia ended up between Jeremy and Stamford, with Pembroke on Jeremy's other side, their chairs facing outwards towards the dancing. She was glad of the separation from the man she had just kissed so improperly and tried not to think about what just happened. Champagne flowed and Cynthia savored the paper thin slices of ham as they watched the dancers whirl to the lively music in a dizzying array of colors.

Jeremy and Pembroke were in a deep conversation on an upcoming bill in Parliament, so it was left to her to entertain Stamford as they enjoyed the light repast.

"And how have you been enjoying marriage with Norland, Duchess?" he asked. "I can keep a secret if you need a sympathetic ear to confide in about that tyrant." He grinned endearingly and Cynthia had to smile back. Jeremy did have a reputation for sternness and control among the peers.

"Oh, no, Norland has been so good to me, really." He had been especially good that morning when he had woken her up with sweet kisses and caresses, then fucked her slow and deep from behind until she came, screaming in exquisite pleasure.

Conversation flowed easily with Stamford. She had always enjoyed his company and felt relaxed in his presence. He was so easy-going and friendly that soon, with the help of a few glasses of champagne, Cynthia was giggling and sharing jokes with the man.

So it was a bit of a shock when Stamford suddenly leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I saw you with Pembroke, Duchess."

Cynthia had been about to take another sip of champagne, but instead, she set the flute down with a trembling hand and turned her eyes up to Stamford's. He suddenly did not seem as warm and friendly as he had just seconds ago. His mouth was twisted in a sly smirk and his size all at once felt more huge and intimidating as he loomed even closer.

"I will make you a deal, Duchess," he said in her ear. "If you spread your legs right now like a good girl, I won't tell Norland what I saw."

Their chairs were turned slightly towards each other, and Cynthia could hear the heated discussion between Jeremy and Pembroke continuing on behind her. Biting her lip, she looked at Stamford with beseeching eyes. Surely this was not happening to her again tonight.

"They won't see, Duchess." At her further hesitation, he added, "I wonder what Norland would say about that kiss I witnessed?"

Cynthia closed her eyes, overcome with confusion and anticipation as she slowly widened her thighs apart. She felt Stamford's fingers slowly stroke the inside of her thigh over the sheer fabric of her evening dress, then travel upwards towards her center. She suddenly realized with dismay that she was aching and wet, and her nipples were straining at her bodice.

"What a good girl you are," said Stamford with a chuckle. His blunt fingers reached her core and she let out a quiet gasp as he fondled her, somehow unerringly finding her engorged clit through the layers of satin, and rubbing it in slow circles.

"I wonder how wet you are. I wonder what you taste like." Stamford's voice was musing. "Tell me, Duchess. Did you enjoy that kiss with Pembroke? Did it make you wet?"

Opening her eyes, Cynthia was caught in Stamford's focused gaze. His brown eyes were full of heated desire and it mesmerized her. His hand continued its surreptitious movements below the level of the tabletop and she hoped to heaven that Jeremy could not see.

"Answer me, Duchess."

"Y-yes," she whispered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I enjoyed it." When he lifted a brow, she continued, "It m-made me wet."

A wide smile spread across Stamford's face and he rubbed a little harder, which caused Cynthia's jaw to slacken a little as her eyelids fluttered.

"I wonder if I could make you come like this," Stamford said. "What do you think?"

Jeremy's voice broke in. "What do I think of what?" Cynthia could hear him shifting in his chair behind her and she widened her eyes frantically at Stamford, who was already casually leaning back, his hand now resting upon the tablecloth.

"I was just asking the Duchess what she thought of the orchestra tonight. I find their music selection a bit indecorous and tawdry tonight." His eyes were locked on hers as he said this last bit and Cynthia's cheeks flamed at the insinuation to her vulgar behavior.

Pembroke protested energetically in the defense of the orchestra, whose conductor was a friend of his, and as the conversation continued around her, Cynthia surreptitiously shifted and brought her legs back together. What in the world was happening tonight?

Fortunately for her peace of mind, Jeremy did not seem to have noticed either of her indiscretions. She tried to ignore his friends and the rest of the evening passed in similar fashion to those of the last three weeks whenever she had gone out with her husband.

As soon as the carriage door closed, he had dragged her into his lap and the ride to their townhouse in Mayfair went by in a flurry of passionate kisses and heavy groping. By the time the carriage slowed, Jeremy had both of her tits out of her bodice and was sucking on her nipples like a starving man. They righted their clothing just in time before the footman opened the carriage door, and as they went up the townhouse's steps, he whispered in her ear, "I want you naked and in bed in ten minutes, wife."

This was not at all an unusual request and Cynthia thought Jeremy must not have noticed anything of what had happened with Pembroke and Stamford that night, especially after that hot interlude in the carriage. With the help of her maid, she quickly undressed and sat at the vanity in a loose wrapper.

"Hurry, Simmons!" she said as her maid worked at taking down her elaborate coiffure.

"I'm sorry miss, it's just that there are so many pins!"

There were still several left in her hair when Jeremy entered the bedchamber, wearing his usual nighttime attire--a banyan with nothing on underneath. Cynthia met his piercing blue eyes in the mirror and bit her lip. She had failed to be in bed by the designated time. Her disobedience in this small matter seemed heightened by all of her improprieties at Vauxhall.

"I shall finish here, Simmons. You may go," Jeremy said as he walked up behind Cynthia. Simmons bowed herself out, closing the door softly behind her.

He began sifting through Cynthia's curls, finding the last pins and tossing them on the table before her. His hands massaged her scalp, a little sore from its tight updo, and she sighed in pleasure.

"Did you enjoy your evening, Duchess?"

"Oh yes, Jeremy. Thank you for a wonderful time."

"It pleases me to see you get along with Pembroke and Stamford so well. We have been friends since boyhood, you know."

He smiled at her reflection as his hands traveled to her shoulders, kneading them briefly before he reached down to cup her breasts. Cyntha wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating. She dared not say anything. The loose wrapper fell open and she watched, mesmerized, as he played with and fondled her creamy, ample flesh, making her pussy flood with excitement.

"I'm curious, wife. What was your favorite part of the evening? Our stroll through the Dark Paths? Or the supper?"

Cynthia gulped. He had just mentioned the two settings of her scandalous encounters that night.

Nevertheless, she attempted to sound nonchalant as she answered. "Oh, I think I enjoyed it all. The Gardens are just so lovely."

"Not as lovely as you. Come," Jeremy said, helping her to stand and leading her to the bed. There, he undressed her, bent her over the bed, and fucked her for so hard and so long that she had come three times by the time they finished; on his cock, on his tongue, and finally, again on his cock while he inserted two fingers into her ass, wickedly filling both of her holes.

Jeremy had, in fact, been violating her anus almost every time they fucked, but tonight was the first time he had used more than just one finger. She had a feeling she knew what he was preparing her for, and as she lay completely spent in his arms, drifting off to sleep, she couldn't help a shiver as she thought of his huge manhood stretching her tight, virgin ass.

********

Two evenings later, Cynthia danced in the arms of the Duke of Stamford at a ball held by Lord and Lady Barlestone. When he had asked for the waltz, she had graciously accepted outwardly, but inwardly she quaked, still full of trepidation and guilt at what had happened at Vauxhall. She hoped he would not bring up those events, but she feared that was wishing for too much. She was right.

"I must compliment you on your dressmaker, Duchess," he said in a low, rumbling voice, his eyes straying down to the pale, quivering mounds of her bosom as they moved through the fluid steps. "I don't believe in hiding one's light under a bushel." He grinned and Cynthia blushed.

"Th-thank you, Duke. That is most kind of you."

"I greatly enjoyed our time together at Vauxhall. I especially liked the look on your face when I touched you. I never did get to make you come, did I?"

As Stamford whirled her around the ballroom, Cynthia began to feel a little flustered. Was it dizziness? Excitement? Shame?

"I believe I'd like to repeat the experience tonight, Duchess. We shall take a turn around the ballroom after supper." It was not a question and Cynthia could only nod in acquiescence, too fearful of what he might do or say if she refused. In a state of confused worry, she heard not another word of Stamford's easy flow of chatter for the rest of the dance, and was rather poor company until the supper gong rang.

"Are you feeling well, wife?" Jeremy asked as he led her to a table to partake of the delicious repast the Barlestones offered to their guests.

"Oh yes, Norland. Just hungry, I suppose." Cynthia pulled herself together with an effort, despite feeling like a bundle of nerves.

"We must feed you, then. I have plans for tonight that will require a great deal of energy." The Duke gave her a smoldering look, and she smiled timidly back at him, feeling her nipples tighten. If only she could reassure herself that she was responding solely to her husband's seductive words, and not at the thought of what might happen after supper with Stamford.

Cynthia felt the meal had ended all too soon when Stamford's shadow crossed their table. "Apologies, Norland," he said, "but your wife has graciously consented to taking a turn about the ballroom with me, and I have come to collect."

"Of course, of course." Jeremy stood with fluid, masculine grace. "I have been wanting to find Pembroke anyway. Have you seen him, by chance?"

"Ah yes, I believe he's in the card room." Stamford drew Cynthia's arm in his as they ascended back up to the ballroom and Jeremy strode off in the direction of the smoky domain of gentlemen.

As Cynthia strolled along the perimeter of the ballroom on Stamford's arm, nodding graciously to acquaintances, he asked if she was well-acquainted with their hostess, Lady Barlestone.

"Only a little," said Cynthia. "I've never been to her annual ball, in fact." She shouldn't have been surprised at receiving a coveted invitation to one of the biggest events of the season, but she sometimes still couldn't believe she was a Duchess. It was heady to realize that no society matron of the

ton

would snub her now.

"Is that right? So you are unaware of why her ball is so popular?" At Cynthia's shake of the head, Stamford led her down an empty hallway. "Barlestone House has an unusual layout. A great many small rooms were installed around the ballroom, the perfect place for an assignation."

They stopped in front of a closed door and Stamford pulled a key out of his waistcoat pocket. As Cynthia's heart began beating a thundering tattoo in her chest, he quickly opened the door and ushered her in, locking the door behind them.

"Oh!" Cynthia exclaimed, stopping only a few feet inside the room. It was elegantly furnished with a low divan sofa, several comfortable chairs, and a sturdy table which held a bottle of claret and three glasses. But what surprised her was not the furniture; it was the fact that the room was already occupied.

"Hello, Duchess," said Pembroke, sitting by the table and wearing an amused smile. "Would you like some wine?" He began pouring the dark red liquid into the glasses.

At the pressure of Stamford's hand on her lower back, Cynthia stepped forward and took the proffered glass with trembling hands.

"Drink up, my dear," said Pembroke. "It will relax you."

Cynthia didn't think anything could relax her at that moment. The room was small and the presence of the two powerful men was overpowering. She sipped the wine nervously, darting her glance from one Duke to the other.

"Wine was an excellent notion, Pem," said Stamford. He downed his glass easily while Pembroke sipped at his, the crystal goblet hanging loosely from his fingers.

"Was it difficult to lure the Duchess here, Stamford?"

"Not at all. She really is a biddable creature."

They gazed at Cynthia hungrily, like predators eyeing their prey. She had already consumed a few glasses of champagne during the ball so far, and after a few swallows of the rich, red wine, she started to feel warm and giddy inside, but not relaxed.

"Why don't you take a seat, Duchess?" Pembroke gestured to the low divan and Cynthia, after a slight hesitation, settled herself on the cushions. Stamford continued to drink his wine, standing by the table as he watched her.

Pembroke put his glass down and slowly stalked towards her, circling behind the low back of the divan and stopping there. Her eyes closed when she felt him lean forward, his breath fanning across her neck. "So obedient," he whispered. "So submissive." Cynthia shivered at his dark, husky tones. He turned her head up and back and caught her in a deep kiss.