A not so secret Tryst | 25th after the ball- Xmas 1677

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

The Mansion of Buckingham

At the end of the Pall Mall street, wedged between St. James Park and St. James Square, stood a large mansion...

 

...drawn up of fine white marble and sandstone, with clear Baroque geometry. Inside cherubs in a blue sky was fitted over the white plaster. Each room held a different color and nothing was short of lavish. The mansion was square, but inside the servants still had the habit to refer to the left as the west and right as the east wing; the west wing dedicated to the Duke's chambers, and the east wing deserted for he had send his wife to her father in the country, long since grown bored with her behavior which was an impediment on his fun. Paintings by Rubens, Rembrandt and Lely were displayed in the large hallway, created to impress the visitor, an enormous marble staircase drawing in the eye.

 

Nicolette was a tumble-y sort of nervous excitement as she sauntered in through the doors of Buckingham Mansion, pretending as though she did this sort of thing all the time, slouching off her cloak - uncaring that it slid to the ground before the servant might rush to assist her.

 

Her eyes were upon the stairs, while her mind was already in the room he'd shown her: The private boudoir of Lord Francis Kirke who's titles included Baron of Kingston, Nephew of Buckingham, Kings Gentleman, and more recently Royal Pimp.

[Francis Kirke]

(Psst, peops don't know IC that he's Bucky's nephew. They just know they're cousins )

 

Francis had only just arrived back himself. He had taken off his shoes, not particularly liking the heeled court shoes, and tossed away his cravat. He was already nursing a cognac mixed with his orange brandy, with a squeezed rind of lemon from Naples. A land of citrus smells he truly always missed. The combination of Buckingham's superb French cognac and his blood orange brandy was perfect.

 

He did not hear Nicolette come in, or perhaps he pretended not to. Either way, he did not turn from staring at the flickering heart when she first came to the doorway.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Whatever her charade of confidance, the Frenchwoman was a mess of nerves inside.

 

As she saw Lord Kingston in the drawing room, seemingly unaware of her arrival, a moment of panic struck. Perhaps he'd forgotten? Perhaps he'd made other plans. Perhaps he did not want to do this even? Nerves had all manner of unreasonable thoughts pop up. She looked at her cloak, there being a strong temptation to pick it up and sneak back out.

 

Poule mouillée*

 

Straightening her spine, she tried remember his smile, his gentle manner towards her, he was even encouraging. Francis was not scary, it was just her nerves at passing the point of no return. And, she had friends, friends who would catch her if she needed, and Francis himself had not a doubt in the Dukes greater plans. In fact, the weakest point in it all was her fluctuating level of self-confidence. 'Believe in yourself.

 

Watching Francis for a moment, she wondered what to do. Should she just go to his room, and be there in his bed naked when he retired? Gentlemen probably liked that sort of thing. Or... Ah yes. She settled on an idea, one that was truer to herself.

 

Stealing in upon the seemingly unsuspecting man, she reached to clasping her hands over his eyes with a cry of "Guess Who!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

* trans 'Wet Hen', in french refers to a person who lacks courage

[Francis Kirke]

He had anything but forgotten. In fact, he needed the drink, for many reasons, to prepare. If even just to make sure he was not too overzealous.

 

Francis was rather tall, so she had to get close to reach his eyes. He caught the scent of her immediately, even before her voice, which easily gave her away.

 

"Ho!" He exclaimed, in surprise. "Hmm, but so many ladies steal into His Grace's house and join me for an impromptu tete a tete in my bedchamber! How shall I know?" He giggled.

 

"But you almost had me spill my drink, mademoiselle," he chided with a saucy, dramatic finger as he turned around.

 

He then held out the glass to her to try some with him. She always seemed to have quite a palate, and she would probably appreciate Buckingham's fine cognac accented with his Italian blood orange brandy.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

At some point he must have realised she approached, at some point he must have made the choice to play into her game. He gave a faux cry of surprise, and then lapsed into laughter, and she laughed with him - fears dissipating. "Then I shall make an inventory for you Lord Kingston! La, where shall I begin?" It didn't sound like so many ladies blazed the trail to his bedroom, which made her feel good, that she was a unique sort.

 

"Tragedy!" she laughed of his scolding for putting his drink at risk, and catching his finger pecked a kiss to it's tip. True enough Nicolette did not bother with milk or cordial, raised with a healthy supply of wine, her appreciation for spirits was also high. She was all to happy to accept a sip of his drink... the both of them laughing, perhaps he had some nerves too?

 

"Mmm... this is very nice?" the drink was flavorsome, she implied question to what was in it, although her attention was far less on the drink and more on the gentleman who'd offered it. A shimmer ran down her spine as she looked at the height of him. It was thrilling to be here.

 

Passing the glass back to him she spoke slowly, "The first sip, it is a surprise - but it is the sort of thing one might want more than once, perhaps often?" at least that was what she was hoping intimacy would be like. She remained close to him, there seemed to be a sort of energy that radiated from him that she wished to feel, to absorb.

[Francis Kirke]

"My lord Duke brings in the best cognacs from France, and I happen to deal in the most exotic of citrus brandies from the Italian states. It is 4 parts cognac and two parts brandy." It was simply a blending of things he had grown to like. It had only been natural to try them together.

 

"It is the hope that most of life is like that which drives an adventurer like me," he replied, just as easily lapsing into innuendo. He took another long sip and then held it out to her to finish. There was a little carafe already made up of it on the side table, illustrating that Francis must drink it oft enough.

 

Once the glass was empty, he leaned down toward her lips to give her a deep kiss. Finger sneaked up her dress to the swell of her breasts. His fingers dared between the fabric and her skin, hoping to brush and tease a nipple.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"Mmm..." Nicolette's irises dilated, paying note to his every movement, his almost casual elegance, "the blend works well."

 

All the while her own excitement grew, he was close, quite as close as he'd been yesterday, though there was a difference tonight. Tonight there was intent. Intent he then measured off with a large sip of his drink, done in such a way that it seemed like a decision. Her heart beat quickened.

 

Now!? It must be going to happen now.

 

Nicolette emptied the glass between her lips, barely swallowing before his lips were pressed to hers, the intoxicating flavours blending between a sharp intake of breath, one hand pressing up to his hairline, while hand still holding the glass pressed it's coolness against his neck.

 

Happily she kissed him, lips molding with his, body tensing as she felt his hands movement, and then relaxing as she understood what he was doing. This was so much better than the awkward fumble with Lord Maldon (although she'd never tell him that), she was quite certain that Francis was not going to apologize for touching her - nor did she want him to!

 

With a muffled giggle she arched into his touch, creamy soft skin willingly yielding it's rouge nubbin, while her hand still remained clasped around the awkward glass.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis did not have a full appreciation of his elegance, although he might have been happy to think he inherited some of that noblesse of carriage. He was simply Francis, now Kingston, a hard fact for even the blond to internalize, and he did have a healthy sense of ego in there somewhere too.

 

Despite all that, he had a soft confidence in his pleasuring of a woman, a familiarity and eagerness that was delicate and not threatening. His intuition for a woman's feelings was rather strong after having been raised far too closely by women for the time's standards.

 

He took the glass from her and seamlessly placed it on the side table at some point. He reached around to the small of her back and pulled her firmly against him, the brush of all that fabric far to hindering for either of their purposes, even if his fingers found purchase around a warm, puckered nipple that he longed to suck.

 

With his free hand he reached to the ties that would free her body to him more, not missing a beat with his kisses, as if she might not even notice that she could breathe easier.

 

"Do as you wish..." he encouraged her.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

She gasped as he pulled her closer, he was so strong, and it felt wonderful to he held so! His finger found what it quested for, and she discovered a strange pleasure in her nipples abuse, arching into his touch, wanting more. "Anything?" in a pause between kissing, she gasped, her own arms reaching around him, moving holding, rubbing over his back.

 

She'd read a whole book full of possibilities (unfortunately) all ideas were vanished at that moment, instead she was only aware of the eager and warm man so close. And yet here she was trapped in so much fabric. Pushing his jacket back over and off his shoulders, her lips found his bared throat and kissed, while her hands fumbled about with his shirt. "Mmm, ah, hurry Lord Kingston." she encouraged him. Meanwhile wondering what his penis looked like. All while trying to move to let him access the ties here, the hooks there. Francis was trying to free her, bows knotted and caught - it had taken her maid half an hour to tie her in. Nicolette was not prepared to wait that long to undress.

 

Pushing herself away from him she called (demanded almost) "Your sword - cut me loose!"

 

Those past years of swatting away hands, declining amorous attentions, had apparently not been because the girl was a cold fish.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis was equally ready for the clothes to be gone. Her kisses on his neck still tantalized him as the air hit the wetness while he attempted her hooks and ties.

 

She cried out for his sword, and he chuckled some, trying to imagine using his very long rapier for such a task!

 

"A dagger then," he said, retrieving one from his belt.

 

"Don't move now," he added, with a boyish smile and a shake of an elegant finger.

 

With a few rips and pulls, the mademoiselle was finally free.

 

He abandoned the dagger on the table and helped move the pieces away, smiling all the while. This felt rather adventurous, and he liked that spirit.

 

The King shall too

 

"Now where were we?" he asked, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor, revealing a number of scars. He was lithe and healthy rather thank muscular or bulky.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"Yes yes, a dagger is safest." A dagger was less dramatic, less the stuff of racy novellas, but a dagger was far more effective. It was all very exciting though. Nicolette took a breath and held quite still, though there was a gasp or two given as he cut and tugged, and then quite suddenly court dress slumped to the floor.

 

She was left in thin chemise, but feeling quite naked to his eyes. A silly impulse had her hands fold over her breasts, but she willed herself to lower them... revealing a form that was neither particularly curvy nor narrow, though perhaps a bit more defined than some for her habbit of nature walks. She was at large a healthy specimen of her sex, with awakening passions brightening her eyes.

 

Eyes that right now looked into his, appreciating his grin of the sport, she gave a laugh and dove forward to help him rid himself of his clothes. "We were to kissing." Nicolette replied, busying herself with kissing his flesh as it appeared, discovery upon discovery, running her fingers over his chest, his shape, his contours. "Mmm, you taste, salty sweet." she murmured. Mentally very distracted as her fingers glided over his belt, knocking against the clasp, she really wanted to see there, though she was also nervous that that male machine might be like a spring loaded mechanism, unstoppable once activated, and then it might just as suddenly be over.

 

"So many marks..." she said of the scars she found on his body, as she pressed herself against his body, tiptoeing to kiss his lips, sliding her arms up and around his neck. Lips butting into his softly, insistently, lips parting with yearning.

[Francis Kirke]

The blond gave no inclination that she should hide anything. Instead, his eyes took her in eagerly, with an impish grin on his face, a rather lascivious, impish grin.

 

Francis let out a lion-like purr as she kissed the newly uncovered skin. There was a languid enjoyment of it all. The anticipation of what was to come mixed in with no particular urgency beyond their own needs.

 

He certainly made no movements to discourage her from any of her exploration, even when she reached the top of his breeches. His hands were busied closing around a breast as he returned her kiss to his lips with new fervor, reaching his other hand around to pull her against him fully, supporting her as she tip-toed up.

 

"Marks make a man," he replied, against her lips. He grinned and pulled back just enough to take hold of her and pick her up, "And now I think to bed, mademoiselle." There was only so much anticipation the twenty-eight year old former sea captain could handle! Most of his reserve was out the window seeing her in her chemise reflected in the firelight, casting shadows of her curves and stoking his imagination to the point of demanding reality.

 

He placed her down by the pillows over a velvety blanket and a few soft furs added for winter warmth. A half-smile on his face, his eyes rolled over her as his hands went to his breeches, soon to end her curiosity on what would be found inside.

 

Spring-loaded was not far from the truth, but it was far from being over, as his breeches dropped to the floor. Being tall, he was proportionate to his height and generous in width, but he would even put his value in knowing how to use it. Francis had little idea what a virgin would think of his manhood; it did not cross his mind that most would probably wonder how it was supposed to fit if they saw it before attempting to fit it or he might have waiting until being under the blanket!

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Yes they were 'to kissing', and a little more. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling as his hand closed around her breast (quite different to when her own hand cupped there.) She gasped, then mewed into his lips, pleasantly giddy, arching into his touch.

 

"Mmm, these marks make me want to mark you too..." her sentence stopped as she found herself lifted from feet. A surprised sound turned into laughter, her hands clung around his neck, toes tossed about the air, "aha!" progress in the bedroom was so expedient! "to bed!" there was a surealism to the moment, Nicolette could still barely believe that this was her. Here with Francis. And this moment, so thrilling, so incredible.

 

And here she found herself placed gently. There was a look on his face now that quietened her, her eyes fastened upon him as he disrobed in earnest, his eyes they burned. Nicolette sensed she was the breath blowing upon his fire... and tugged up her chemise up higher. Revealing her thigh, watching his face, enjoying her effect. This was a thrilling power to weld over a gentlman, she had every intent of mastering it.

 

Curiosity moved her up to one elbow then, to better see the final member of this party. It seemed to take forever, it was like waiting for the curtain to raise on the first scene of long awaited play. But then the scene was revealed.

 

"Mon dieu..." was the whispered gasp as she saw his aroused penis, engorged and empurpled. It was an utterly different specimen to what she'd seen on Douglas climbing out of the ocean. Her eyes lifted back to his with a little trepidation. "It is a great thing." she admitted, suddenly having second thoughts. "Will... are you... I dont know if it will... fit?" Concern upon her features, she fretted to his reply. But she'd not come this far to give up now. Valiantly she lifted her chin, rallying herself, rallying him. "But we must try."

[Francis Kirke]

His pulse was beating quite strongly with desire, stoked further by her pulling up her chemise to reveal more thigh.

 

Her Mon Dieu surprised him some, as he was no gargantuan man like His Majesty, but they all must look large to a maiden. Women all did seem very small, but if babies came out of there, cocks did not seem any great inconvenience to a man, even if Francis knew from experience there could surely be tight fits.

 

A smile spread further across his face, and he looked down at himself and then back at her.

 

"Well, mademoiselle, His Majesty is far, far grander," he replied, climbing onto the bed and lowering his mouth to her neckline as he hovered half over her. "But I assure you, all shall be well," he said against her fabric covered breast, his kiss wetting the fabric.

 

His free hand began sliding her chemise up even further, a masculine rumble leaving his mouth as he moved up toward her lips once again.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

This pause for viewing, this absence of kisses for a visual inspection, gratefully did not last too long.

 

Francis fell to the bed also, and she shifted to accommodate him, "La, with practise all things are possible... I shall have many cocks wont I Lord Kingston? But this, this is special. Tonight is the one I shall always remember." Nuzzling to him she mused, "I am so excited of it, it is the garden of eden and you shall blaze the trail." her body warm against him, though in compare Francis was a blazing furnace. Nicolettes breaths short and fast, knees knocking as she sought her place.

 

Her hands reached for him yet found fingers pressing up into his hair as his head dipped lower down, tracing a line of kissed down her neck then lower still. Goosebumps ran down her side and right up into her scalp, and her breast seemed to grow heaver. "Do I swell for you too?" she asked in a whisper, arching the cherry tipped plump mass to his lips, all while ruing her chemise. It was as though their minds were in agreement, for Francis tugged at her chemise. Although not at the neckline, instead the hem. Her own hand went there also, halting his hand, a residual moment of hesitation. "Shall you want me more than just tonight?"

 

It was not even like that. She had no idea why she even asked the question, it was almost like the question was hardwired into the female psyche.

[Francis Kirke]

(OOC - Please don't let my posting rate make you think I'm disinterested, bc I'm not, and I'm wholly embarrassed and now you're on vaca )

 

"You do," he replied, with a smile she could feel. "Likely in more places than one mademoiselle. You have a little jewel that swells to the enterprising and skilled miner." He let out a soft huff through his nose, kissing her as his hand took up the pert peaks of her nipples that his lips had vacated.

 

Her question did not startle him, did not actually bother him in the very least.

 

"I imagine, my dear, one day you shall refuse me before I shall ever refuse you. Let us hope it shall be that way, for that is what you wish, is it not?" His hand caressed her thigh as his lips began a long trek lower and lower. If she wished the King, that was how things went.

 

Smiling up at her, he said, "Pull off your chemise, and I shall ease your hesitance of my commitment." His grin was wry and heavy, sexual in fact.

 

"As to what I want. You shall surely own my wanting, even after tonight," he promised her, before lowering his lips to her inner thigh.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

OOC: *snugs* back now!

IC:

 

Nicolette loosed a little giggle. She was not sure if she understood what he meant but enjoyed the sound of his metaphor, and his kisses - la! and his touch. "Miners are explorers, no?' her own hands pressed deeper into his hair as she arched into his kiss. Nipples whose godly purpose was to suckle babies now trilled with the libertine's tongue dancing upon them. "Ooo Lord Kingston, do not stop." she panted.

 

And abandon her newly found pleasure he did not. His fingers took over the duty as lips moved onwards, murmuring the words the maiden so desired, laced with good sense; knowledge that this they begun was never intent for permanence even if that was what he wished. "Mmm..." she accepted, her hand now sliding down his long back aglow in the candlelight. A moment of quiet.

 

Whispered then, "perhaps I shall surprise you then." she could not truly imagine herself not wanting to be close to a man who was so honest, who saw so clear, who told her truths while tempering them with a gently for female ears. Surely this feeling she felt for him just now had a depth to it that would last out weeks, months, years.

 

Ah, but what he did to her! Her body simmered, a laugh broke forth and shifting up she moved about hitching free her chemise. Now in a half seated position, a feeling came upon her, that she ought be doing something. But what? With his progress his golden hair tickled down her belly, and deep sensations roiled within the marveling girl. Was he going to kiss there? Surely not!

 

"I am convinced of it already." she called through short breaths.

[Francis Kirke]

Her playful, yet maiden, wantonness surely spurred him on. Her words put a smile on his face and eased the situation. He did nothing to discourage her hands from wandering, exhaling his own rumble at her touch on his back.

 

"My dear Mistress Envy, I think you shall be surprising all of us for some time to come," he said, with a chuckle that in his tenor sounded nearly like a giggle.

 

Indeed her short breaths convinced him at least of her desire as his lips teasingly kissed around her mound. He rested his head on her thigh, looking at her. "Tell me, do you wish your pleasure first? Perhaps you can Misrule me and lay claim to your desires? Or shall I take charge?"

 

One hand moved to trail its fingers, deftly teasing where his lips had promised to go.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"Is that a vote of confidance?" Nicolette nickered happily, his giggle warming to her ears. Though more than that, she wondered if perhaps he was a bit nervous of this like she was, and like she masked with jest and humor.

 

Resting up upon her elbows, she fell hush and looked to her gentleman as he looked at her now, with a question hanging in the air. Affectations fell away, "... I suspect my pleasure is already done, Lord Kingston. I know there is hurt now to come, but then next time there shall be joy only." pushing up to a seated position she stroked his hair, and then drew his face to hers, to softly kiss. "Then, if I may command, then I shall command you to submit to me, and I shall pleasure you. Let us put off the hurt till the very last." her hand slid down his chest. She remembered page 42, she'd read it so many times, it was something she'd thought she could manage. Something easier to visualise.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis chuckled as she spoke. She would find him very pliable. There would surely be hurt at some point, but there was plenty of pleasure to be had besides that. At the very least, she was pragmatic about it in a nearly seductive sort of way.

 

Instead, she spoke of his pleasure and kissed him. He smiled into it, a very willing partner to her whims.

 

He chuckled again, warmly, "I assure you, mademoiselle, my pleasure is rather assured in this entire thing no matter what you do!"

 

His muscles twitched as her hand went down his chest. He had only a light feathering of blond hair that turned a bit more reddish the further down.

 

"Then I am at your command," he replied, playfully. It suited him just fine, and His Majesty tended to like a woman who could, if he put it politely, direct things anyway. "Shall I lay against the pillows then?" He raised a blond brow saucily, blond ringlets framing his soft face, wondering what she had in mind.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"No matter what?" Well that aroused her contrariness. Emboldened her - although in a playful way.

 

Twisting about she moved to knees, "Well I surely must prove you wrong of that." stooping, her lips met her hands that roved his chest, and drawing nipple between she nipped upon it. Listening for a peep. Free hand now discovering a ease of access, it slid to his jumble of nether parts. Sucking upon the nipple, she then thought to nip nipple again at the same time as she conflicted him with caress of his penis.

 

It was a bit like playing piano; playing with one hand was good, but two was far far better.

 

Nicolette was drawing from other pages of the book just now, and with a bit of ad libbing.

 

Teeth let go of his nipple for a moment, her breath chilling moisture there as she suggested, "Sit on the edge of the bed, like in a chair." that was how she'd read of it being done, Lady O'Roarke in the Bishops office, with the ladies position being to kneel between his legs. But for now, she could not resist nipping Francis again, the hardest nip yet - intent to get a squeak out of the fearless man with lusty penis, who's ultimate target she now stalled.

[Francis Kirke]

"If you wish to no longer be a virgin, then yes," he smiled cheekily. He did not think she yet knew any mean games which would leave him wanting, so that thought did not enter his mind.

 

There were no real hairs to tickle her face as she nipped at his nipples. He arched into it with an "Mmrr."

 

His scars might speak for his tolerance for pain, and it remained to be seen if the blond had any penchant for pain in his love-making.

 

He was not shy about her questing hand, pushing himself against her.

 

"Ah, what!" Her bite surely got a reaction. "You do know that one should not do what they do not wish to experience, mademoiselle?" He did not seem angry but truly shocked. In an amused way maybe.

 

"Oh? Like on a chair, you say? And where might you have gotten this idea?" he raised a blond brow at her teasingly, even as he moved to comply. His hands braced on the bed in expectation.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

He was perfectly smooth, just like the marble sculptures of Versailles had taught her of. He might have been an Apollo, or perhaps Poseidon since he had come from the sea. Still, did Poseidon peep like that?

 

Looking up at the man she now knelt before, her pearly whites glinted with a somewhat pleased smile. "So you are displeased?" was he really? Her nips had been in reply to his statement that nothing she could do would dissatisfy. And she, who took the exercise as a lesson, was curious to test, rather than bound to please him. Perhaps the best lovers were ones that only wanted to please? Who knew, not she.

 

"Perhaps I shall like it." she replied, though that said she did not nip again.

 

Sliding her hands up his thighs, gravity of the task struck.

 

"From Ladies Lismire and O'Roarkes book..." she uttered, eyes upon the shaft of flesh. Rather more real suddenly, rather alive, and very attached to Lord Kingston. Swallowing the lump in her throat Nicolette leaned forwards, and lifted it to her lips. A lick. A tentative kiss. More kisses down it's side. Tracing of tongue along her progress back up. Procrastinating perhaps, before she braved up enough to slip the entire thing between her lips.

 

The lesson on page 42 was completely gone from her mind at that time, as she tried to cope with the immediate task!

[Francis Kirke]

"Of course not," he chuckled. "I've had far worse pains, mademoiselle. A shock here and there," he wagged his brows, "can be well-placed."

 

He enjoyed playing with her, for that was more Francis' temperament away from the seriousness of the sea. Perhaps such exploits were making him feel young(er) once more, for he had never had the typical court exposure from his late teens, so he had missed out some.

 

What trouble he might have gotten up to had he shown up to Buckingham a decade earlier was best left to contemplate another day. Francis' mind was only on the eyes peering up at him, underlined by a white smile.

 

"Perhaps you shall. Perhaps we shall find out later," he added, with a tone of teasing promise. "There is much I shall need to teach you and how patient shall you be when you get some tastes of pleasure," he wondered, doubting she would wish to be patient at all.

 

Indeed they were playing quite the grand, and pleasurable, game. The intrigue of it managed by Buckingham; they two players who, thankfully, enjoyed each other. For Francis to teach her of the King's more intimate proclivities and personalities, there would be plenty of time for biting of nipples.

 

"Ahh, well, Lady O'Roarke is most generous to me," he tittered. "We are very close friends."

 

His hand found her cheek as she began to kiss the sensitive skin. Surely she would note some area causing the skin the twitch or even his cock to jump with approval in her hand.

 

A groan escaped him as she slipped him into her mouth and against a most welcoming tongue.

 

"Mmm, it's pleasure no matter how far you take it at first," he encouraged with a bit of strain to his voice. "Very sensitive," he said. Then he quickly added, "No teeth," suddenly remembering her nip of his nipple.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

And so she progressed, in belief that her education process was self-guided.

 

That day in the garden, when the King had flirted with her, and she'd set herself lofty goal - Francis had advised her that His Majesty did not want any virgin. It had taken a while before Louis had come around to that thought, yet eventually even he agreed. Reluctantly he'd let her visit Heather in the recess. And eventually he agreed to her choice of Francis for the first act (after refusing to do it himself).

 

Of course when it came to the deed, she'd wanted Francis to say it was not a one night sort of deal. His reply had been suitably vague, yet all she'd really needed to not feel too much a whore.

 

But really, weren't all women whores. Exchanging their wares for their various positions, for protection, prominence or prestige. Love was a romantic cover story for societies flesh trade. Not to say it was not rather thrilling and exciting, on this, the first time. Though it was yet to be seen if the deed would actually be done. She'd made herself avalable, but Francis did not seem in any sort of rush. Perhaps he would not. But if not, Nicolette was of growing confidance that she'd be rid of her limitation soon enough. She could always tell Louis that it had been done, and suggest to celebrate together, he to then get that surprise!

 

She would be rid of this, and then eligible for the Kings bed.

 

Although subject to some time frame, awaiting a signal from Buckingham (or Francis) that she did not need to remain an anonymous admirer of the Kings anymore, she had a time frame of a sort in her own mind. thinking that the end of the year might be nice.

 

Six more days. Maybe. Or maybe Buckingham would say next season. Sometimes it seemed like it might be never, and she did not mind, sometimes she was just happy to have a goal - it felt good to aspire, it made this girl from a merchant family in Normadie feel important.

 

But for now she continued, suping upon this bizarre thing that seemed to have a life of its own.

 

Glad of Francis advise that she did not need try take it all into her mouth, she dallied about midriff and above, trialing different movements, listening to the sounds he made for clues to her progress. Would he explode like the Bishop had done? She was mentally prepared for that eventuality, though a little nervous of it. Fingers discovered and caressed his sack, which was another very strange thing of itself.

 

The orange/red glow of the fire lit her back as she worked, his loins concealed from Francis view entirely by the tumble of her dark hair.

[Francis Kirke]

Though Francis was tempted to hold back her hair so that he might watch her lips at their work, he left it tickling his legs, obscuring her. There would be plenty of time to pull all the veils away and there was probably some security in not having him watching.

 

He did remember losing his own virginity, and knowing he was a blusher, he knew he had been bright red the entire time.

 

Instead, he closed his own eyes for a moment, one hand still trailing over her skin, mostly between her shoulder, neck, and jawline. Yet with little skill, it did not much matter, he was sure to make more than enough noises to reward her curious mouth.

 

"If you do not wish me to finish the deed there, my dear mademoiselle, come up here," he exhaled, perhaps with a bit more bravado than his usual soft tenor.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

The noises he made blurred together, but he sounded like he enjoyed it. She wondered if lips was how her opening was going to feel for him, and curious, experimenting, she withdrew, then pushed his penis again past and into her mouth.

 

No, that did not seem like what it would be like.

 

What would it be like?

 

Her jaw was starting to get sore, and she was feeling more confused, rather dirty and far too sober. When he spoke again. She looked up. Merci, and slipping lips free, climbed up his body like he was a tree. "I." she was feeling a tad emotional, she kissed his face again, 'I wish I knew what I was doing." she whispered, it was stressful trying to guess the right thing. "You have lost your energy haven't you?" he seemed to be very relaxed, and she thought that if she'd been good at this he'd instead be all wound up.

[Francis Kirke]

His noises should have been enough of an indication that he was quite wound up, especially when coupled with his announcement that if she did not want him to finish in her mouth, she'd best stop. It did not take much skill when one had lips and a tongue to pleasure a man. He surely was not faking, as likely indicated by his rock hard status.

 

She might have even noticed that his balls had raised up some under all the attentions.

 

"Lost my energy! No, I am trying not to scare you," he replied candidly, meeting her lips with his own and wrapping his arms around her body. With a sure hold, he flipped her underneath him although did not trap her, instead reclining slightly on elbow.

 

"And I don't wish your first experience of things to be...that particular way," he said, leaning down to kiss and nipple. His free hand went questing down between her legs, and his movements were similar to Buckingham's without all the hindrance of breeches. "I will teach you all you wish to know soon enough." Another suckle. "You did not wish your first time to be like an instruction manual?" he teased, giving her nipple a nip.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

She was a bit muddled perhaps, as she'd dallied down there, it seemed another world .

 

Nicolette liked his lips far better, felt closer to him now, his breath through kisses was indeed heavy. "You are not scary." she kissed him again, sliding her arms around his neck, remembering Francis, looking into his eyes, forgetting the appendage that twitched and jumped. Perhaps she was fibbing a bit, she was entirely nervous, though doing her best not to be.

 

He flipped, and with a gasp she held and landed on her back. Eyes flaring, her pulse raced, nips and touches excited. "No not an instruction book.. I, like this." she breathed, kissing him as she might, reaching to touch him. His fingers went there. "I'd thought. Well I'd thought it would be quickly done, Id not thought..." the girl admitted, twisting and turning as he moved, "mmm, that you might linger of it."

 

As she spoke it she understood the compliment of it, even as the warmth of that understanding washed over her, she was startled. "Ah!" she flinched of the nip, and then gave a wry laugh, "I suppose I deserved that."

[Francis Kirke]

"His Majesty likes his gentlemen to have talents in gallantry and seduction," the blond purred from mostly top of her, lionlike with his mane of blond curls falling over his shoulders. "I will linger on it, because it is all about pleasure."

 

He kissed her lips again even as his hardness pressed against her thigh while his fingers tested the waters. He vividly remembered the situation he arrived to at Buckingham's and hoped to have her just as aroused.

 

"Like a lover, not a husband," he added. It was truly a very different mentality.

 

It was easy to get lost in her lips, the search of her hands, and the arches of her body all in the same moment.

 

"You would not have me be ungenerous, would you?" he asked as he ran his length up over her mound teasingly, pressing some of the weight of his chest against her as he kissed the corner of her lips. His freed hand rested on the other side of her.