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Sweet Surrender [27/12. evening]- Xmas 1677


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Juliana of Hesse-Eschwege had rented a three-story house in Pall Mall for the duration of her stay in London. It was rather plain on the outside, made of red brick with green trim around the oriole windows and a green door with a stained glass window at the top. On the door was a bronze door knocker in the shape of a circular vine with a rose in the center. Hedges trimmed the drive leading up to the entrance and several lovely old trees decorated the lawn. Everything was covered in snow now, as beautiful in the winter as it was in the summer.


Inside, the décor was fashionable and lavish, and it had been the lord's bedroom with its enormous carved and gilded bed that had prompted Juliana to rent the house. Hung with crimson, green, and gold silk curtains, it was utterly decadent and appealed to the pretend Princess's hedonistic nature. The rest of the furnishings were opulent as well, including a chase lounge upholstered in multi-colored silk tapestry that she couldn't wait to try out. There was even a Venetian glass mirror, which would allow whomever sat … or cavorted … on the lounge to watch their reflections. An adjoining room held a large bathtub and a cupboard full of fluffy towels and scented oils.


Dressed in a burgundy gown embroidered heavily in gold and trimmed with gold lace, Juliana smiled as she lay the sash Lord Chatham had sent her in the center of the bed. He would be her first visitor here, and she could hardly wait for what the evening would bring. Their romp in the maze had been amazing and she looked forward to what he could do in an actual bed … assuming they made it to the bed.


After lighting some strategically placed candles to give the room a romantic glow, she adjusted the ruby red roses in a vase on one of the tables and then went to the window, hoping to see him arrive.

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Charles whistled merrily as he strolled along Pall Mall, breath misting in the cool air. Gloves were his sole concession to the snow. He had never minded the cold. It was like pain, in a way- it let you know you were alive. Not that Charles needed the reminder tonight. His whole body thrummed with pleasant anticipation.


He still wore his navys and greys but had wrapped Juliana's scarf around his waist to serve as a sash. He had freshened up before setting out, applying a citrus and sandalwood scent and rubbing oil into his beard to soften it. In one hand he held Turnbull's gifted cognac and a bouquet of winter roses. He had bought the pink-tinged white blossoms on a whim, finding their stark elegance rather pretty.


Charles paused momentarily to admire the house. Some day, he promised himself, some day. He smiled, shook his head and approached the door. A hand reflexively adjusted his cravat before reaching for the door knocker.

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When Juliana spied Lord Chatham walking toward the house, she could not suppress a grin. Her scarlet scarf was wrapped around his waist, contrasting splendidly with the navy and gray of the rest of his attire. She watched him for a moment and then closed the curtains, leaving her bedchamber and descending the staircase.


She had told her butler to show him into the drawing room, which was decorated as extravagantly as the rest of the house in shades of blue and white, accented with gold. A fire blazed merrily in the fireplace, adding its illumination to the candles in the chandelier. A couch and two chairs were arranged in front of it, upholstered in blue, crimson, and gold, with carved tables between them. Another table sat by one of the windows, flanked by matching chairs, and there was a larger couch in the center of the room atop a plush carpet of blue, crimson, and white. Paintings of landscapes decorated the walls and there were sculptures placed on pedestals scattered about the room. A cabinet that held a variety of liquors stood against one wall.


When Charles knocked, a butler answered the door and greeted him cordially, leading him into the drawing room. Juliana stood before the fireplace with her back to him, and when he was announced, she turned around to face him, a sultry smile upon her lips. Bridging the distance between them, she stopped in front of him and help up her hand to be kissed. “Welcome to my humble home, Lord Chatham.”


As soon as the butler left the room, her eyes lowered to his waist. “I see you found a good use for my scarf.”

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The butler showed Charles in with commendable professionalism. The Earl followed him, absently assessing the property as they walked. To his soldier's eye it all looked eminently lootable. (Not that Charles harboured any such intentions, but one could not help one's trained instincts.)


Those trained instincts could be superseded, however, by other instincts, ones far more primal, and that was what happened as soon as Charles laid eyes on Juliana. She was a vision. (The part of Charles that never really stopped noted that she had set the scene exquisitely, and was playing her chosen role of grande dame at least as well. That gave him his cue.)


He bowed smoothly over her offered hand, pressing his lips to her flesh, fingers flicking out to briefly caress the inside of her wrist. He heard the door click behind the butler and immediately fell to his knees, bowing his head and offering up the flowers and cognac he had brought.


"Most worshipful Venus Libertina, I beg you to accept these lowly offerings from my unworthy hands, and in doing so elevate both them and me beyond mere mortal bounds."


Still kneeling, he looked up and smiled.


"And while we are on the topic of uplifting divinity, no home could be humble with you in it. The rudest shack would be as a palace."


Reaching down, he undid the scarf and offered that up too.


"I hope you will forgive my presumption, fair Venus, but I felt the need to feel your grace."

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He was even more dashing than she remembered and he seemed to fill the large room with his intriguing presence. His roguish good looks were enhanced by the patch over his bad eye, and he even smelled delicious. Her body responded pleasurably to his nearness and Juliana wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms and beg her to take her right in the drawing room.


However, she knew that it was best to draw out their longing for each other until neither of them could bear it any longer. It would make the consummation of their passion much more gratifying and this time they did not have to hurry. They had all night, if he was willing to stay that long.


A silvery thrill meandered slowly down her spine when he bowed and kissed her fingers. Her wrist burned where his fingers caressed it, and she wished they would have lingered there for a few moments longer.


But he had another surprise in store for her. After the butler left, he fell to his knees and held up a bottle of cognac and a bouquet of beautiful pink and white roses. He was so mesmerizing that Juliana had not noticed that he had brought gifts for her. She took them from him and moved away, setting both bottle and bouquet on one of the carved tables before stepping in front of him again.


“I am pleased with your offerings, my devoted servant,” she intoned, playing the part he had cast her in. “You will be richly rewarded for your dedication and admiration.”


She grinned down at him, bending over to softly stroke his bearded cheek. “It was humble until you entered it. Now it seems dazzling and magical, a palace of delights for both of us to enjoy.”


When he unwrapped the scarf from around his waist and held that up as well, she plucked it from his hand and slowly, sensuously, tied it around his wrist and into a bow. “You are forgiven, but one who presumes upon Venus must pay her price.” Juliana tugged at the ends of the scarf to prompt him to rise. “You now belong to me.”

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Just as they had in the labyrinth, they matched one another as smoothly and easily as if they were reading from a shared script. Charles bowed his head further as Juliana spoke, every inch an unworthy mortal delighted to be so condescended to by his goddess.


"Your pleasure is the only reward I require fair Venus. Even the opportunity to admire you further is a gift beyond my imaginings."


He licked his lips and leaned into her hand as she reached down to stroke his cheek. (He decided that moaning would be overplaying the part.)


"If you continue to flatter me like this, I may expire from ecstasy," he whispered.


Playing his role to the hilt, Charles swallowed heavily as Juliana tied the scarf to his wrist, fashioning a leash for him. He let his breath start to shudder. He could feel arousal start to grow alongside his anticipation. He straightened at her bidding but kept his eye downcast.


"Your mercy is matched only by your beauty, for I would pay such a price a thousand times over. To be your slave is an honour undreamed of. How might I serve... Mistress?"


He awaited her response in his best servile posture.

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They fell seamlessly into the roles that they would play tonight. They were truly of like mind and Juliana found that refreshing. In the labyrinth, she had let him take the lead, but now it was her turn. She smiled wickedly when he bowed his head, claiming that her pleasure was all that he wished for. Oh yes, he would pleasure her many times tonight, and in many different ways. The dominant partner was a part she played well and enjoyed tremendously. And he would be rewarded richly with more bliss than he had ever experienced before.


She liked the way he leaned into her hand, as if he was grateful for her touch. “We can't have that,” she said, shaking her head. Her pale curls bounced around her shoulders. “I shall flatter you no more. You shall have your ecstasy, but not so soon.”


He was so perfectly submissive that he must have played this game before. Then again, so had she, and it was different every time. This lovely interlude would be particularly exciting, she surmised, for she had never met anyone quite as fascinating as this intriguing rogue who stood at her command.


Juliana gently raised his chin until he was looking straight into her eyes. “You can start by pouring me a drink." Tugging on the scarf, she led him over to the table on which she had set the flowers and cognac.


Picking up one of the roses, she softly ran its petals along his forehead, down the side of his face and finally over his neck. “You will find some crystal goblets in the cabinet by the wall. Pour yourself one as well and then join me by the fire.”


Scooping up the rest of the roses, she went to the door and opened it. A maidservant was waiting outside in case she needed anything . Juliana gave her the flowers and told her to put them in a vase and then bring them back to the drawing room. That done, she moved over to the couch by the fireplace, and arranged herself upon it, leaving room for him to sit beside her.

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Charles had played these games before. Not often, admittedly, but his perfectionism had insisted that he be nothing less than, well, perfect at his assigned role. Even leaving that aside, Juliana played her part so well that submission felt entirely natural. And excruciatingly arousing. As she took him by the chin and directed his gaze into her's, Charles wanted nothing more than to be allowed to kiss her feet and swear undying devotion. His breath caught in his throat.


My God she's beautiful.


Tamely, he allowed himself to be lead to the table by his leash, a thought that caused a most delicious twinge in his breeches. That twinge, however, was put to shame by the feeling caused by Juliana trailing the rose over his face and throat. He licked his lips and leaned into the caress, moaning softly.


"Y-Yes Mistress."


He swallowed a whimper as she withdrew and busied himself with fetching the goblets and pouring the drinks. He moved to the couch and offered Juliana the fuller glass with a bow. He saw that there was space for him on the couch, but to sit would have been presumptuous. Instead, Charles knelt at Juliana's feet.

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Juliana enjoyed both sides of this particular game, but she was a bit partial to being the one in control. It wasn't every day that a woman had a gentleman at her beck and call, eager to do whatever she asked him to. Men … especially those with in positions of power … found enjoyment in letting go of their responsibilities and allowing someone else take the lead. She didn't know what Charles' motives were for playing the submissive role. Maybe he just liked the thrill of doing something enticingly different.


The difficult part would be prolonging their passion without giving in. Exquisite sensations surged through her lush body when he moaned, and she yearned to follow the rose's trail with her lips. It was not time for that, though. She wouldn't give him too much too soon, no matter how tempting he was.


She watched him while he poured drinks for both of them, admiring his fine figure as he returned to her. Juliana accepted the glass he offered her, and as she had hoped, he knelt at her feet instead of sitting beside her. “Very good,” she said. “Venus is pleased. As your reward, she will grant you one small request. Speak now or the chance will be lost.”


A sultry smile playing across her lips, she wondered what he would ask of her.

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Charles had never examined his motives closely. This sort of play was fun, and that was all there was to it. Had he attempted to undertake an objective self-examination, he might have concluded that he enjoyed it partly because of how rarely he indulged and partly simply because his partner did, and his pride was strong enough to bear a little submission and humiliation. (A perfectly impartial observer would note that Charles was in general nigh-pathologically self-reliant, and believed that surrender, submission and loss of control were things that happened to other people, and draw their conclusions from that.)


Such philosophical musings were far from his mind as he knelt in his proper place at Juliana's feet, quivering with anticipation and arousal. He beamed with pleasure as she announced her satisfaction with his actions, doing his best to look puppyish. (It was a challenge, given his features.)


This question of reward was a complicated one- so many tempting options! Charles licked his lips, a quick nervous gesture.


"Mistress, you are as far above me as the sun is above a worm. My sole desire is to serve you, should you continue to be so magnanimous as to allow this unworthy mortal peon remain in your divine presence. I beg you, allow me to fan you, or serve as your footstool, or... or anything that might give you the slightest pleasure."

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Juliana was trying to be arrogant and aloof like a proper goddess should, but she barely suppressed a chuckle when he looked at her like an adoring puppy. His features were too sharp to pull it off believably, but at least he was trying. His pleasure, feigned or sincere, was apparent, and when he licked his lips, she imagined all of the things she would eventually ask him to do with that tongue of his.


The thought of using him as her footstool was appealing, but she would rather him remove his clothes for that, and they were still in the drawing room. Any moment, the maid would walk in with the flowers, and others may step in from time to time to ask if she needed anything. Juliana wasn't concerned with her own reputation. It had been lost long ago and good riddance to it. But she didn't want rumors to spread about Charles' strange behavior while visiting a lady. His idea could be put to use in the bedchamber. No one would disturb them there.


She softly caressed his hair, and her hand traveled lower, once again stroking his cheek with a feather-light touch and then tracing his lips. “I think I should like a drink from your lips." Setting her own glass on the table beside the couch, she patted the place beside her. “Sit beside me and quench my thirst. But you must not touch me otherwise."


How difficult would it be, she wondered, for him to keep his hands to himself?

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Charles could not help but shiver under Juliana's touch, closing his eye and pressing into her hand. The urge to kiss at her fingers as she traced his lips was almost irresistible, only utter commitment to his role giving him the strength. He gave a small whimper as she withdrew and just caught himself short of leaning after her hand to prolong the contact.


He perked up at her command, the absolute image of a man unable to believe his luck.


"At once Domina." (The Latin title, he decided, was more appropriate.)


He rose hurriedly and sat as indicated. A momentary pause to appreciate the extent of his immense good fortune, then he poured a measure of the cognac into his mouth and held it there. Hesitantly, as though unable to believe his own audacity, he closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. He would wait for Juliana to deepen the kiss, in accordance with his role.


That was an easy decision. A far harder one was what to do with his hands. Oh, ostensibly his role dictated that he do nothing, but this was a game, and surely Juliana would appreciate an excuse to punish him? And, of course, she was stupefyingly beautiful, which would probably make the question entirely academic unless he sat on his hands.


He was not certain he ever made a conscious decision, but his hand crept out to entwine itself with hers.

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Juliana loved to touch him, and she could tell by the way he shivered that he enjoyed it as well. Her body tingled with desire already and she wondered how aroused he was. She planned to continue with this tantalizing form of foreplay until he begged her for release. How long would that be? Would he outlast her? There was a sweet ache between her thighs already and she longed to feel him inside her. She would take him to her bedchamber as soon as he slipped up. They would be able to be more intimate there.


She smiled when he used the Latin word for 'Mistress.' It was indeed fitting for the role she was playing and she liked the sound of it upon his lips. Juliana lifted her head regally as he sat beside her and took a drink of cognac. He would have to do all the work. She would not help him in any way.


Nor did she have to. Charles leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, and she opened her mouth to receive his offering. The liquor slid smoothly down her throat, and while she allowed her lips to linger upon his, she did not deepen the kiss. As Juliana had hoped, he was unable to resist touching her, and when his fingers entwined with his, she immediately snatched her hand away and pulled her lips from his.


“How dare you take liberties with your goddess when I expressly bid you not to touch me!” Her voice was stern but held a note of amusement. “You will be punished for your insolence! But not here.” Standing up, she tugged the scarf around his wrist so that he would stand as well. “Bring the bottle with you and follow me.”


Juliana did not pull him out of the room, since both of his hands would be occupied with the bottle and his goblet. Picking up her own glass, she strode out of the room and up the staircase and into her bedchamber, expecting that he would follow.


After closing the door behind them, she set her glass upon a table and instructed him to do the same. Once he was relieved of his burdens, she grabbed the scarf and pulled his arm behind him. Unwrapping it, she tied it around both of his wrists this time, so that they were bound in back. The knot was loose enough that he could slip his hands out of it if he chose to. When she was done, she pressed her bosom against his back and kissed his neck, nipping it playfully. “Are you ready for your punishment?” she asked him.

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Charles jerked back as Juliana snatched her hand away, attempting a look of wide-eyed fright.


"F-forgive me, Domina. I-I forgot myself. You are so perfect that I could not bear the closeness. Please forgive me, I beg you!"


He bowed his head and shivered, though in pleasure rather than fear. Hurrying, he gathered bottle and goblet and followed Juliana from the room, a task complicated by his throbbing erection.


Reaching the bedchamber, he laid bottle and goblet down as commanded and waited, trembling in delicious anticipation. His breath left him in a shuddering gasp as Juliana bound his hands behind him. (And if he immediately tested the strength of his bonds, that was merely an instinctive reaction born of hard-won experience.)


Gasps turned to moans as she pressed against him from behind. He tilted his head submissively to present his neck for her lips. He was almost painfully hard by now, a situation only exacerbated by Juliana's question- there were so many exquisite potential punishments for her to choose from.


"Yes, divus Domina," he managed to groan out. "I am ready. I submit myself wholly to your will. All that I am, I lay at your feet. I beg of you, please name my penance, that I might attempt to become worthy to worship you."

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His eye was very expressive, although she thought she saw more anticipation in its beautiful blue depths than terror. Juliana wondered if his other eye was missing or just damaged, but removing his eye patch was one thing she would never ask him to do. He wore it for a reason, whether it was for his own comfort or so that people wouldn't stare at his ruined eye. It was the only article of clothing that she would allow him to keep on.


She thought about ordering him to strip before she bound his hands behind his back, but that would be a reward rather than a punishment. Juliana wished to see what he looked like in all his nude glory but that would have to wait a bit. In the labyrinth, their coupling had been urgent and demanding and it had been too cold to do much besides push the necessary attire out of the way. Now, they had all night to do whatever they pleased.


Or whatever she pleased.


He seemed to like being bound, and she chuckled inwardly when he tested his bonds. Whenever he wanted to, he could free himself, but she didn't think he would. However, 'escaping' would add a bit of extra fun to the game as it progressed.


Her breasts ached as she pressed them against his back and a hot thrill slid down her spine when he moaned. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands over his chest and down to his stomach, stopping right above the top of his breeches. Juliana wanted to feel how hard he was for her, and she imagined that he was hoping that her hand would move lower. The fact that it didn't would add to the delicious torment she was inflicting on him.


“Very well,” she said when he begged for his punishment. “I will give you an easy task first, so that I can assess your worthiness as my slave. Come.” She walked over to her vanity and sat down on the stool, gazing at his reflection in the mirror attached to it. “Remove the combs from my hair.” There were only four of them, made of ivory and studded with diamonds. Since he couldn't use his hands, he would have to be creative.

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Charles was indeed hoping that Juliana's hand would venture lower, hoping quite fervently. He arched slightly, striving in vain to bring the bulge in his breeches in contact with her fingers. (It really was beginning to become severely distracting.)


Charles took a moment to steady his breath as Juliana accepted his pleas.


"Oh thank you Domina. My gratitude for your mercy is matched only by my unworthiness to receive it."


Eye meekly downcast, he followed her to the vanity. (He had toyed with the idea of crawling on his belly, but he was still fully clothed and didn't want to scuff anything. Besides, his Mistress might object to the friction.)


He nodded in acknowledgement of her instructions and leaned down to carefully take the first comb in his teeth. Denied the use of his hands, his mouth seemed to him the only part with sufficient dexterity for the task, though he fully expected Juliana to object to this too. Gently, slowly, striving to avoid yanking on her hair, Charles drew the comb out. He bent to place it on the vanity and then repeated the process until all four combs had been removed. This close, her scent was intoxicating and he could feel his cock twitch in need.


"Are you satisfied with my efforts Domina?" he asked, a puppy fawning in search of a treat.

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It was quite clear that Charles wanted her hand to move lower by the way he arched upwards, and Juliana was tempted to give him what he wanted, for she longed to caress his cock and to free it from his breeches. She wondered what it would taste like. From experience, she had discovered that no two gentlemen tasted alike. She would get that chance later in their game, perhaps as a reward for good behavior.


If he had crawled on his belly, she would have been displeased, because she hadn't told him to. She smiled smugly as he followed her over to the vanity, keeping his eyes suitably downcast. He played the role of slave to perfection, to the point that she could almost believe that she really was Venus the goddess of love. Juliana didn't think there was a single woman in the world who wouldn't enjoy being worshiped by such a fine specimen of manhood.


Juliana did not object to him using his mouth to remove her combs. There was really no other option open to him with his hands behind his back. She watched him in the mirror as he removed the first one. The blonde tresses it had been holding in place slid over her shoulders.


The second one grazed her scalp when he took it between his teeth. A look of displeasure contorted her lovely features, and after he had placed it on the vanity, she entwined her hands in his hair, and pressed his cheek to the polished wood of the vanity. “That hurt,” she snarled, yanking on his hair to pull his head up again. “This is how it felt. Be more careful with the next two.”


The last two combs slid out easily, and when he was finished, her hair streamed over her shoulders and down her back in a cascade of soft curls. “You did well, except for that one mistake, and I have already punished you for it,” she replied with a small smile. Juliana stood and moved behind him once more, untying his hands and looping the scarf back around one wrist.


She sat back down on the stool, facing away from the vanity this time. “Pour me a drink and take off your clothes so I can inspect my property. And make it entertaining.” The pretend Princess looked forward to how he was going to perform this new assignment almost as much as seeing him unclothed.

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Charles whimpered as Juliana yanked on his hair. Not from the pain, which honestly provided a most interesting counterpoint to his pulsing cock, but from the snarl in Juliana's voice. He had displeased his mistress (and by now he was so immersed in his role that that seemed an unconscionable crime).


"T-thank you for correcting this lowly worm Domina. It is greater consideration than your unworthy slave deserves. I will not disappoint you again."


He took a moment to centre himself before returning to his task, which he thankfully managed to complete without further complications. He shivered in unfeigned pleasure as she told him that he had met expectations, but could not help the nigh-blasphemous thought that he had not been punished anywhere near harshly enough for causing his Venus the slightest discomfiture.


He trembled as she untied him and simply bowed his head in acquiescence to her instructions, not quite trusting his voice- his cock had damn near torn through his breeches at being called her property. He fetched her drink first, taking the time to think about how he could make his disrobing 'entertaining.' The slave of Venus was a modest, servile creature, which ruled out most of Charles Audley's methods.


He settled for playing off that, which should amuse Juliana if nothing else. Hesitantly, nervously, he made his way to the centre of the room. A swift glance at the object of his worship, as though to remind himself why he was doing this, and his fingers fumbled at the knot of his cravat, discarding the strip of fabric. Frock-and waistcoat followed suit, movements slow and nervous. (Charles was doing his best to blush but suspected that this lay beyond his reach.) He drew a deep breath to fortify himself and removed his shirt, exposing his pale, lean torso, tapering sharply from shoulders to waist, lightly dusted with dark hair and creased by several scars.


As though overcome with embarrassment, he turned to the side, quite incidentally giving Juliana a much better view of shapely calves as he doffed his boots. Shame increasing, he turned away entirely, presenting what Charles had always considered exquisitely well-formed hindquarters (his best feature after his eye, in his opinion) as he bent at the waist to remove his stockings and breeches. He hesitated for a moment, perhaps overwhelmed by his own daring, before turning almost reluctantly to face his mistress. His cock stood proudly out, painfully erect.


"Domina." It took Charles a moment to recognise the voice as his own. "If it would not interfere with your next task for me, might I be permitted to kneel? It... feels wrong to stand in your exalted presence."

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“If you disappoint me again, I will send you away,” she snapped. “And you will never be allowed in my presence again.” Of course, she would do no such thing, but she was warming to her part as much as he was. Juliana had started out being merely playful, but he seemed to want more than that. So she would be harder on him and take her cues from his responses so that she wouldn't go too far.


She wanted to go to the chaise lounge before he disrobed so that she could see him from all sides in the mirror that stood in front of it. But there wouldn't have been as much room for him to move and she looked forward to the show. After accepting the drink he handed her without so much as a nod of gratitude, she watched him walk to the center of the room.


From their encounter in the labyrinth, she knew that he was self-assured, proud, and bold, and she half-expected him to temporarily throw off his role and pull off his clothes with confidence. Yet he stayed in character, feigning nervousness and embarrassment as he removed each piece of his ensemble with exquisite slowness. Was he trying to tease her or was his effect on her unintentional? Her breath caught in her throat as he took off his shirt, revealing his magnificent torso. The delectable ache between her thighs increased as she looked upon him, and heat coursed through her veins.


His legs were well-formed and when he bent over to take off his stockings and breeches, her gaze was riveted on his enticing backside. Taking a sip of her cognac, she thought how enjoyable it was going to be to spank that well-formed ass. She had other plans first, based on one of his earlier suggestions. His hesitance to face her after his breeches slid to the ground taunted her, and again, she wondered if he was doing it on purpose.


Then he turned, and her eyes immediately lowered to his rigid cock. It looked like it was ready to explode and her inner muscles contracted in anticipation of feeling it inside her. Juliana was tempted to hike up her skirts and tell him to fuck her senseless, but she resisted that tantalizing impulse. Placing her goblet on the vanity, she stood up and walked toward him, caressing him up and down with her sultry blue eyes. When she was nearly close enough to touch, she stopped and circled around him, unable to stop herself from lightly slapping his bum when he begged her to allow him to kneel.


Facing him again, one golden eyebrow rose in amusement at the subservience in his voice. “Yes, you may kneel in a moment.” Retrieving her glass, she took the scarf around his wrist in her free hand and pulled him over to the lounge. “You expressed interest in serving as my footstool and you may do that now.” Juliana sat down and lifted her feet slightly. “Remove my shoes and kneel down so that I can rest my feet upon your back.”


She was not wearing stockings, which she rarely did while she was at home.

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The part of Charles that sat behind his eye, observing and commenting on his surroundings, the part that thought the world a play staged for its amusement, found Juliana's reaction to his bared cock most gratifying. The rest of him, head bowed and eye downcast, stood trembling under her scrutiny, feeling her gaze trace gossamer strands of fire over him. He barely resisted the urge to turn to keep her in sight as she circled him. If not for his obvious arousal, one might have been forgiven for thinking him terrified.


A low needy moan escaped him as Juliana slapped his arse, his cock impossibly becoming even harder. He followed her eagerly as she lead him by the leash. He was panting with want by now, (feigned) embarrassment entirely banished by the pleasure of pleasing his mistress, utterly shameless in his submission to the will of Venus.


His eye shone with worshipful delight at Juliana's new commands for him. He dropped to his knees immediately and spoke, voice hoarse with desire and trembling with awe.


"Oh t-thank you, Divus Domina, thank you! I am unworthy of your benevolence. To serve at your feet is all I could dream of. Thank you!"


Even as he babbled, his hands reached out to remove her shoes, revealing her perfect feet. He was sorely tempted to kiss them in supplication, but refrained. His mistress had not given him permission.


Instead, he positioned himself on his hands and knees, offering her his back. His cock twitched with suppressed need, but he ignored that too. He had not been given permission to touch himself, either.

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His moans did not sound feigned at all. She wanted to slap him again, but decided against it. He seemed to like it too much and she didn't want to push him to the edge of his endurance quite yet. Juliana was finding it harder and harder to keep from touching him. She told herself that a few simple caresses wouldn't hurt, but no, he had to earn them. And so she just looked him up and down appreciatively. He did look quite frightened, but she knew it was only a ruse. If he had been, his cock would not be standing to such glorious attention.


As he dropped to his knees in front of her, she gazed at it again and her tongue snaked out to lick her upper lip. She hoped that he stole enough glances at her that he would see her reaction and know part of what she had in store for him later in the evening. As usual, she said nothing to his prodigious gratitude but her heart beat more rapidly at the desire in his voice. She simply nodded haughtily and waited for him to do as he was told.


When he removed her shoes, Juliana sighed softly, wishing that he would kiss her slender feet or at least caress her ankles. However she had not given him permission for either, and this time he did not take any forbidden liberties. Her eyes went to his cock again as he got to his hands and knees. A wave of heat washed over her and she wished she could remove her clothes as well. Looking at the nearly-full glass of cognac in her hand, she smirked as an idea insinuated itself into her mind.


Placing her feet upon his back, she rested them there for a few minutes and then slowly began to move them down his back and up again, enjoying the feel of his warm bare skin. Repeating the process, she ran her toes over that shapely ass and then shifted her feet to the middle of his back. Juliana wanted him to move, and one foot slid downwards and beneath him. Her toes brushed over his cock and she wriggled them playfully, stoking it lightly.

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Juliana's quiet sigh sent waves of bitter shame washing over Charles. He had missed something, and the thought of having failed to anticipate her every desire almost curdled his stomach. Had Venus expected further homage, or had she wanted him to kiss her feet? But there was nothing to do about it now, and to dwell on it would only lead to disappointing his mistress further. He did not think he could bear that. She might send him away. (It was testament to how well they both filled their parts that that seemed a genuine concern in the moment.)


I remember now why I indulge these fancies so rarely. The second-guessing is exhausting.


Stung by his perceived failure, Charles set himself still as a statue, hardly daring to breathe for fear of upsetting Venus. (And how wonderfully natural it felt to demean himself so for her pleasure. After all the scheming of the day, the exquisite simplicity of just obeying without thought was ecstasy.) He steadfastly ignored his insistently throbbing cock. That would be dealt with if and when his mistress decided, and in the manner she chose.


That resolve was sorely tested as Juliana began to run her feet over his back. He bit his lip almost to the point of drawing blood to stifle his moans, every muscle tensing under her as he fought to remain still. He lost part of his battle when her feet slid over his arse, lip slipping free from teeth as he groaned.


"Domina, please..."


What exactly he was asking for he was unsure, and he had no chance to rally himself and gather his thoughts. Her toes stroked against his cock and Charles found he could not help himself, even though he had more than half expected this. His back arched convulsively and his hips rocked, cock seeking more of that delicious contact.

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Juliana wasn't aware that her sigh had shamed him, but she would have been pleased had she known. Although the point of this fantasy was mutual pleasure, she enjoyed the feeling of power her role gave her. A gentlemen rarely did a lady's bidding if it didn't suit him, and men controlled all aspects of their wives' and daughters' lives. How many women dreamed of being treated like a goddess, to have a man do whatever they demanded of them, and to know that the reward for both of them would be excruciatingly enthralling? Bound by the morals they had been taught from childhood, most of them would never know this kind of satisfaction, but Juliana had long since thrown off the yoke of respectability and was all the happier for it.


Even those who did partake in such games had probably never had such an exquisite slave as the intriguing Lord Chatham. He made a very good footstool, and his skin felt magnificent beneath her feet. She wanted to know how their bodies would feel pressed together, her soft curves molding to his hard angles, and his next task would get them both closer to that goal. His groan when her feet slid over his bum sent luscious flames licking through her and she longed to be free of her clothing.


She kicked him lightly when he began to voice a plea. “Be quiet! Footstools do not speak!” Juliana idly wondered what he would have asked for if she had allowed him to continue. To stop stroking him, to move faster, to caress his arse again? Maybe he wanted exactly what she gave him. His cock was hard and warm beneath her toes and as she had expected, he could not remain still.


With a wicked little smile that he couldn't see, she lifted her glass when he arched his back and rocked his hips. Pulling on the neckline of her bodice, she poured some of the cognac down the front. The rest of it she splashed over her gown, shrieking as she leapt to her feet. “Now look what you've done!” she shouted. “You've made me spill my drink and now I'm soaking wet! Stand up and remove these clothes you have so carelessly ruined … all of them!”

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Charles did not actually remember much of losing his eye, but he was certain that he could not have not have looked any more (melodramatically) stricken than he did now at Juliana's outraged shriek. (Charles had a pronounced, not to say unfortunate, tendency towards hammishness.) He cowered under the lash of her wrath, trembling, head bowed, not daring to speak. He would have wept had he the ability to fake it.


(A muscle in his cheek twitched with the strain of not playing off "soaking wet." Restraining his tongue like this was a real challenge for Charles, another reason he kept his forays to these waters few and far between.)


Coming to his feet, half-expecting every moment to be banished from her presence forever, Charles set swiftly about his task. His fingers were nimble, even allowing for his shaking, and he was not exactly inexperienced in disrobing women. He would have liked to have protracted the act and shown his mistress the proper reverence, but this was not the right time. Besides, he was very much looking forward to seeing Juliana naked, not he would dare to so much as form that thought at the moment.


He folded her garments neatly and laid them aside, still scared to look at his mistress. That done, he threw himself to the floor, having deemed that kneeling alone would be insufficient. Stretched out on his belly, face pressed into the carpet, he extended his hands towards Juliana plaintively and spoke, voice quiet and nervous.


"I-I will not ask for forgiveness, Domina, for I do not deserve it. I will only ask that you allow me to remain as your slave. Punish me however you see fit, but I beg of you not to send me away. I will do anything, suffer any hardship, but to be banished from your divine presence would be more than I could bear."

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Juliana had said the phrase 'soaking wet' on purpose, and she could tell that he wished he could make a witty quip. But instead he quivered before her with his head bowed. He was an excellent actor. If she didn't know better, she would have believed that he was ashamed of his actions and wanted nothing more than to be her humble slave. Once she allowed him to unleash his passion, she imagined that it would be impressive. All that pent-up tension would be spent on their mutual satisfaction. Whether their game would last the entire night or only one round could not be predicted. But she planned to bring him to the pinnacle of pleasure many times tonight.


She stood still as he undressed her, relishing each moment that his fingers accidentally brushed against her bare flesh. He was quite adept at undressing a lady, and while she had thought about giving him permission to worship her body with his hands and lips, she had decided on something a bit more demeaning. He seemed to like being humiliated and how could she deny giving him what he wanted, even it did prolong her desire and intensify the ache between her thighs.


Her gown was unlaced and discarded, followed by her bum roll, her petticoats and finally her corset. Juliana breathed a long sigh of relief as that constricting garment was removed. Now she was clad only in her thin chemise and the outline of her stiffened nipples could be seen beneath the fabric. A slight breeze wafted over her, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.


After he folded her clothes and set them aside, he threw himself to the floor in submission, lying on his stomach with his hands held out in front of him and begging her not to send him away. “I should banish you this moment,” she spat, prodding his side with her toes, not enough to hurt but enough to be noticed. “I did not tell you to prostrate yourself before me, unworthy slave. You have not yet finished your task.


“The cognac soaked the bodice of my gown and its stickiness still lingers upon my chest and all the way down to my navel. I want you to lick it off until I am clean again.”

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Charles whimpered as Juliana revealed his latest misstep, curling in on himself as she jabbed at him with her foot. (That was the fun of this game, of course. Every second thing he did for the foreseeable future was likely to be a misstep. And missteps required... correction.)


He did not think it was possible for him to get any harder at this point, but his cock decided to make the attempt anyway when he was given his new instructions. He swallowed a groan as he came to his knees, crawling towards Juliana. He stopped for a moment just short of her, an awestruck look upon his face.


"Domina," he whispered, and closed the distance.


He began just below her navel, broad, slow licks, taking his time, being thorough. With exacting patience, he drew his tongue across her silky flesh until he could no longer taste the cognac, then repeating the action twice so that he could be absolutely certain, covering every last inch of her skin. His tongue then dipped into her belly button, knowing from experience that liquid tended to congregate there, before venturing slowly, cautiously, north. (He had to straighten from his kneeling posture, but there was no other way to do this without manhandling her.)


He started with the skin directly below her bosom, showing the same worshipful attention. Once satisfied with its cleanliness he moved clockwise, licking slowly along the outer slopes of her exquisite breasts, tarrying in her cleavage. (Purely to eliminate every last trace of the cognac, of course.) Finally, he moved to attend to her peaks, tongue circling in towards each nub in turn with torturous slowness. (And if he lingered even longer on her nipples than her cleavage, well, thoroughness and dedication to the task at hand were important.)


One last, lingering lick, and Charles settled back down onto his haunches, head bowed, submissively awaiting his next command.

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Juliana couldn't see beneath him as he crawled toward her, but she guessed that his erection was getting rather uncomfortable. But that was part of the torment she was inflicting on him … to deny him release until he begged her for it. Venus could be a cruel goddess when she wanted to be, but she was also benevolent, particularly when it came to matters of love.


The awe in his eyes and his voice enchanted her, and at the first touch of his tongue on her stomach, she arched her back and gasped. Until now, she had been able to keep her own ardor in check, but every flick of his tongue fanned the flames burning within her. Although she tried, she could not stop herself from trembling as he thoroughly licked the sticky cognac from her heated skin. His beard chafed her flesh delightfully, neither too rough nor too soft.


Almost of their own volition, Juliana's hands moved into his hair, and as his tongue plunged into her belly button, they tightened, tugging lightly. A delicious wetness blossomed between her thighs and she could feel her inner muscles pulsing. Her breasts began to ache in anticipation when his mouth moved upward and again, she arched her back as he licked one breast and then the other. His tongue probing her cleavage caused a moan to escape her full lips.


Now that he was standing, she removed her hands from his hair and began to stroke his neck and shoulders. Her already stiff nipples tautened even more as his tongue languorously circled them, leaving them tingling with the moisture his mouth left behind. Juliana wasn't ready for him to stop, but he had done as she asked, and she smiled down on him as he knelt once more, his head bowed reverently.


Reaching down, she lifted up his chin as she had done earlier so that she was looking into his eyes. “You have pleased me well,” she breathed. “So well that I will grant you an honor that few of my worshipers have ever earned. I will give you a pleasure of your choice. Is there anything you would like me to do for you?”


Some gentlemen liked a little give and take in this kind of game, and others just wished to be dominated. And their preferences tended to change according to their moods. Juliana was giving him the opportunity to exert a little influence. He could either take it or leave everything up to her. She rather liked being in charge, but this was supposed to be fun for him too.

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He could not help the shudder that ran through him as his goddess took him by the chin, sparks seeming to leap from her fingertips to his skin. He smiled broadly with the simple pleasure of pleasing her and, in some small way, redeeming himself for his failures.


God, she's glorious.


Charles had not previously had the luxury to properly appreciate the entrancing sight of Juliana's nudity, absorbed as he had been in his appointed tasks. At that moment, in that place, the image was almost overwhelming in its impact, reinforcing how entirely correct and natural his submission was. He was an ill-made thing by comparison, and belonged at her feet.


So distracted was he by her beauty that it took him a moment to realise she had spoken, and another to work out what she had said. He quivered at the confirmation that he had pleased her, feeling his pulse quickening. It was a wonderful conundrum she had set him, a rich banquet of options indeed. Too rich for the character he was playing, in truth, and he was loath to abandon that role now. Thankfully, he had a solution. Nervously licking his lips and casting his eye modestly downward, he gave her his answer.


"Thank you Domina. Your generosity is beyond my comprehension, to offer such rewards to your unworthy slave." A nervous pause. "But my failures still weigh on me, so all I ask is that you punish me further for them."

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He shuddered when she lifted his chin and a jolt of pleasure shot through her body when he dared to let his eyes roam over her. Juliana was beautiful and she knew it, tall and stately with curves in all the right places. Her breasts were large and perky and her backside was shapely and firm. Her waist was so narrow that it would have been hard to tell that she'd ever had a child.


With so little to do on the estate she had been exiled to, she had taken to long walks in the countryside. When it was warm enough, she had gone swimming in the pond on the grounds of the estate, and a day rarely passed when she had not ridden her horse. She also liked using a bow and had participated in many hunts, both at the Swedish court and in the country. She had kept in shape without trying to keep in shape.


She preened inwardly, although on the outside, she looked cool and haughty as a proper goddess should. Juliana was not quite as in character as he was, because she was still testing him, to see how fully he wanted her to play the part. Heaping too much abuse on him would ruin the experience for both of them, but by his answer, he seemed to crave punishment more than rewards. His preferences suited her just fine and she slid further into the role of Venus.


“So you have been fooling me?” she hissed, grabbing his hair and pulling on it. “You have tricked me into believing you are deserving of my grace when you know you are not worthy? At least you have admitted your failure, but your punishment will still be severe.”


Bending down, she reached for the scarf around his wrist and stood up. His hand would be in the air now, and as she pulled him across the room, he would have to manage to crawl with only his other one for support.


Stopping before a sturdy table she judged to be sufficient for her plans, she tugged the scarf again. “Stand,” she commanded. Juliana let go of the scarf and removed the objects from the table. “Do not look at me. Bend over the table and stretch your arms out in front of you.” It was of a height that he would be able to press his torso to the polished wood and rest his head on its surface as he leaned over it.

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Charles felt his breath catch in his throat at Juliana's magnificent fit of anger. He had honestly not expected her to play the part so well, nor to find himself quite so caught up in it. He could have done without the repeated pulling of his hair, though. The pain was immaterial, but if she kept it up then he was going to have a bald patch, and then there would be nothing for it but to shave his head and take to periwigs. Horrible thought. His hair was his third best feature!


A far more pleasant one was wondering what exactly his mistress was going to do to him. Delightful anticipation filled him, trilling through his veins as he crawled awkwardly after her. She was tall, with long strides, and keeping up would have been a challenge even if she hadn't tied his leash to his wrist. As it was, he twice came within an ace of collapsing and perhaps bringing Juliana down with him.


He could not hide his moan as Juliana bade him bend over the table. He had a shrewd idea where this was going, and it promised to be fun.


"At once Domina."


Charles stretched himself out eagerly, cock now hard enough to drive nails. He was shivering in expectation, waiting for his punishment to begin.

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