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Aria

You Asked For It | Tuesday April 12, late at night

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The three-story manor on Pall Mall that Juliana had rented was more beautiful in the spring than it had been in the winter. Crisp new leaves were growing on the trees and the bushes along the circular drive bloomed with multicolored flowers. Even at night, their bright hues could be seen if one carried a lantern. Their pleasing fragrance was strong upon the cool breeze. The plain red brick building was bathed in moonlight, making it seem both eerie and beautiful. Candles flickered in a few of the higher windows, but all of the others were dark.

 

Inside, the self-styled princess put the finishing touches on her preparations, a wicked smirk on her face as she waited for her highly anticipated guest to arrive.

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He was only a little late, Charles assured himself, little enough that it fit as part of their game. It gave Juliana cause to be displeased with him, and that would make things fun. Anticipation coiled hotly in his belly, and he could feel a hungry smile curving his lips.

(He would have to douse that soon, of course, for it did not fit his role, but for now he could not help himself. It seemed an age of the world since he had last been with his Venus and he felt no shame in admitting that he had missed her.)

He had made no concession to the late hour or the breeze beyond donning his justacorps, today a rich carmine. After a sedentary Easter, spent mostly indoors, he felt the need to show he could, even if only to himself. The thought was worth a self-mocking snort.

He took a moment to appreciate the effect of the moonlight wreathed mansion. It looked almost fey by night, which Charles deemed wholly appropriate. Quickening his step, and shaking his head at his boyish eagerness, he hastened to the door.

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Before Charles could knock, the door was opened by a cloaked and hooded figure in white, carrying a single white candle in a golden holder. The mysterious figure … who was not as tall as Juliana … said nothing but stepped aside so that he could enter, if he chose. From the doorway, he would be able to see another flickering light in the foyer.

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Charles arched an eyebrow. This was unexpected. He flicked an assessing glance over the hooded figure, looking for any hint of their identity or some clue as to what might be going on.

She took Danby's chits in, but she said she was sending them away for the night...

There was nothing for it but to advance he decided with a mental shrug. He gave a quick smile and a nod to the doorkeeper and pressed on.

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The light flickering in the foyer was coming from another candle held by a hooded figure who looked identical to the first.  The second figure shut the door. Both of them moved in front of Charles. Without a single word, they set their candles on a table.  One of them began undoing his cravat. The feminine hands indicated that the figure was a woman and it was made clear as her cloak swayed with her movements, revealing enticing flashes of a shapely nude form. Glimpses of the other woman’s equally lovely body could be seen between the openings of her cloak as she walked around him and started pulling on the sleeves of his justacorps.

 

~*~

 

At the end of the foyer was a staircase leading to a second floor balcony that ran from wall to wall. Juliana stood upstairs in the shadows, watching the scenario below her with a smirk on her face. She doubted that Charles had expected to be greeted by two nude women who wished to undress him. The phony princess had hired them from a brothel run by a madam called Hortense and they had arrived at the mansion shortly after she had sent her three unofficial wards to an inn early in the afternoon. She had given them their cloaks and taught them their roles while playing the part of Charles herself.  One thing had led to another and the three women had ended up romping between the sheets with the two of them until it was time for dinner. 

 

The whores had been instructed only to undress him and not to touch him intimately. That was her job. They were also to leave his eye patch on, because she rather liked it. This was an elaborate prelude to the pleasure Juliana had in store for Charles tonight. Would he allow the whores to disrobe him, she wondered?  It was likely that he would realize that it was all a part of her game.

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Whores, Charles decided, given their obvious comfort with their state of near-undress. Juliana had clearly gone to extravagant lengths preparing for this. 

But what, exactly, is this?

Whatever it was, though, (and he eagerly awaited the moment of revelation, anticipation coursing hot through him) it would have been churlish not to play his part as best he could. And that, it seemed, meant allowing himself to be undressed. 

Well, I've never had any objections to being disrobed, particularly by beautiful women...

Speaking of which, it would have been as gauche to ignore the flashes of enticingly bared flesh revealed as the two women worked as it would have been to gawk at them, and so Charles paid appropriately restrained admiration. They were both well worth looking at, and he grinned playfully at the pair.

"I don't suppose you can give me a hint as to what awaits, hmm?" he asked warmly.

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Neither of the hooded women answered Charles’ question. They didn’t even acknowledge that he had spoken, but continued to undress him. As they removed each piece of his ensemble, they folded it carefully and set it on a chair behind the door. Their robes continued to shift with their movements, giving him more peeks of their delectable bodies.

 

When he was completely nude, they gently pushed  him so that he was on his hands and knees. One of them beckoned him forward while the other slapped his arse. Leaving him to figure out what he was supposed to do, they strolled to the foot of the staircase, their hips swaying seductively. Then they turned around, and beckoned him, their gestures perfectly synchronized. Up the staircase they went and beckoned him again.

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Posted (edited)

"No, I thought as much," Charles murmured, accepting the silence as his answer, and laughed. He had not expected that they would offer any reply, and was in fact mildly impressed that they gave no reaction at all. For a moment he toyed with the idea of trying to force one from them. But no, he decided, he was all together too eager to see where this was leading.

It was leading to intriguing places it seemed. Being stripped was one thing, but being forced to his knees was quite another. He went without resistance, still enjoying the game, but Juliana's attendants (would it be appropriate to call them priestesses? he wondered irreverently) were not satisfied with that. He gasped and jolted slightly as he was struck, a feeling another man might call shame coiling through him, warm and deliciously erotic. He was beginning to show it too, he realised, and the feeling redoubled. He swallowed, suppressed a shiver, and crawled up the staircase as he was bid.

Edited by Charles Audley

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If the two hooded figures noticed that Charles was rising to the occasion, they did not show it as they watched him crawl up the stairs. When he reached the landing, they moved to the right side of the hall and again beckoned to him in unison. At the end of the corridor, they opened a finely carved door (no different than the others he had passed) and indicated that he should precede him inside. The room was unlit and when the door shut behind him, it was pitch-black.

 

He would hear robes rustling past him, moving farther into the chamber. Two candles upon the floor were lit simultaneously. He would be able to see something glittering in the wide space between them. Two more were lit, then two more. The candles were clearly arranged in a circle and when the last pair was lit in front of where Charles knelt, Juliana was revealed in all her glory, standing as still as a statue.

 

She was dressed in a peplos of purple silk that hinted at her luscious curves beneath. It was gathered at her tiny waist with a wide golden belt and pinned along her arms with sparkling gold fibulae. Her white-blonde hair was arranged artfully over both shoulders, flowing to her waist in lustrous curls. Gold bands glittered upon her upper arms and forearms and a gorgeous golden necklace encircled her neck. Around her forehead she wore a golden diadem. One hand was held at her side and the other behind her.

 

Looking ever inch the goddess she portrayed, she gracefully inclined her head to look at Charles, but said nothing. The two whores stood on each side of her, just outside of the circle of candles.

 

What would Charles do now?

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Charles had always appreciated spectacle, and Juliana had orchestrated a truly spectacular display. Everything, her costume, the candles, the silent priestesses (it was appropriate, he had decided) and most importantly she herself, reinforced the dynamic of their game and made it all too easy to fall into his role. He had told her once that she made it natural to think that his rightful place was as her slave, and the eroticism of that knowledge had him shivering, the feeling spiced further by the fact that there were others present to witness his abject submission.

"Domina," he half-moaned in acknowledgement of her nod, and, unable to contain himself, crawled forward to prostrate himself before his Venus and kiss her feet.

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There was just enough room for Charles to crawl between the two front candles. He might feel their warmth on his bare skin as he passed them. Juliana knew that he would not speak when they were playing these roles until she gave her permission, and as his eyes were downcast as a proper slave’s should be, she had no idea what he thought of her elaborate pageantry. She could see that he had already risen for the occasion, and the teasing glimpses of his cock as he moved forward sent ripples of pleasure and anticipation through her body. The fact that he had no idea what she was had planned increased those sensual stirrings.

 

As did his warm breath on her feet as Charles kissed them. Since he couldn’t see her face, she smirked as she watched him shivering, her eyes straying to his well-formed arse. If she leaned forward just a bit …

 

“You’re late!” she suddenly roared. The hand she held behind her back shot forward and the whip he had given her for Christmas snapped through the air and sharply struck one of his arse cheeks. “Do you not know better than to keep your goddess waiting?” The whip crackled against his other cheek. “Speak, slave, and explain yourself!”

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Crack!

Charles shivered and gasped as the crop drew twin lines of fire across his arse. It stung fiercely, and for a moment he allowed himself to savour the sharp sensation. It contrasted and enhanced the arousal Juliana's constructed tableau had inspired in him, and already he could feel the warm, floaty feeling he played these games for creeping at the edge of his mind. It was a little like being drunk, only better. More focused.

But he could not let that sweet fog carry him off yet. Venus was angry. He cringed back, more from her words than the crop, and pressed himself further into the floor. 

"I, I am sorry Domina," he managed after a moment, swallowing and drawing in a shuddering breath as he composed himself. "I cannot explain myself. There is no adequate excuse. I can only beg that you show mercy to your wretched slave, and allow me to earn your forgiveness. Please Domina. I will do anything, suffer any punishment, if you will but allow me to continue to serve."

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Juliana got as much pleasure from striking Charles as he did from being struck. Hie bare arse looked delectable with the red stripes from the crop adorning them. Having played this role many times before, she knew how to apply the perfect pressure without drawing blood or leaving scars. It would  sting for a few days and cause him a bit of pain when he sat down ... which would, most likely, remind him of her.

 

“You can’t explain yourself?” Her voice was softer now, but still full of rage. “You think that I am so pleased with you that I would forgive you for loitering around when you’re supposed to be serving me?” Her bare feet were silent as she walked forward, bent down, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling until Charles was able to look into her face. “Do I look pleased to you? You have mocked me! I should cast you away from me forever for your insolence!” Letting the hunk of hair go, she moved back into the circle of candles. “Until now, you have served me so well that I planned to bestow a gift upon you. Now, I am not so sure you deserve it. Convince me that I’m wrong … without saying a word.”

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Charles quailed back from Juliana's displeasure, the very image of abject, shamed despondence. He would have flattened himself to the floor if not for her hand tangled in his hair. Caught as he was, he could do nothing but whimper pathetically and stew in the shame and humiliation of his failings. It was an unutterably exquisite torment.

He would have liked a moment to gather his breath and his wits when she released him, but there was no time for such indulgences. His Venus had offered him the glimmer of an opportunity to redeem himself, and so thorough was her domination of him that Charles would rather be scourged than hesitate to seize it.

Head still bowed (for he did not dare to look up), he pressed his lips once more to her bare feet, paying worshipful homage as he silently worked to convince her of both his repentance and his worthiness. He was thorough in his attentions, making sure to have pressed kisses to every last inch of Juliana's feet before daring to let his lips track north.

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Juliana enjoyed the way Charles tried to pull away from her. He knew that she would never truly hurt him, yet he played his part so well that she could almost believe he was deeply humiliated for disappointing her.  Idly, she wondered if he had timed his late arrival on purpose, longing for this very outcome. His whimpers intensified the desire within her and she smirked at him wickedly before letting him go.

 

Perhaps he was intent on disappointing her again so that he could feel her whip kiss his flesh once more. Charles spent what seemed like an eternity worshiping her feet. Juliana's ardor began to give way to boredom. She felt like lashing his back but true torment was not giving one what one wanted. Her hand remained at her side and she reacted not at all.

 

His lips began to move upward. Had he been teasing her by paying so much attention to her feet? Her skin tingled beneath his kisses, and the dwindling flame within her rekindled. Still she did not react, curious to see how far Charles would go to convince her that he deserved another chance to serve the goddess of love.

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Charles was altogether too absorbed in his task to sense his danger, striving to make clear his abject submission to Juliana's will. It was less about the physical sensation than the spectacle of his debasement, the illustration of his place beneath his Venus. He had miscalculated there, but, focused as he was and unwilling to break character and look Juliana in the face without express permission, he could not tell.

 He nuzzled plaintively at her calves as his lips traced a meandering path up along the sinfully smooth flesh towards her thighs. He tarried there, not to tease, but again out of a sense of worshipful thoroughness. The lack of response was... disconcerting, and the small corner of his mind that was still wholly himself appreciated the artistry of that torment on multiple levels. The feeling he could only vaguely identify as nervousness was as delicious as it was unfamiliar.

At last, though, his servile diligence was satisfied and he moved on to his ultimate goal, placing his lips at the juncture of her thighs and setting to with fervour.

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It was difficult to remain still while so many alluring sensations careened through her. Juliana willed he legs not to tremble and mastered it only with all the willpower she possessed. Though she’d had many lovers in her life, both male and female, Charles was able to satisfy her better than most. Perhaps it was because he took such utter joy in being humiliated and played his part so well that it was easy to believe that he truly was her humble slave. Or maybe it was the way each touch of his lips left a trail of fire in their wake. His breath was a hot breeze against her skin, sensuous and arousing.

 

She could feel her inner muscles contracting already in anticipation of feeling him inside her. Perhaps she should let him bring her to climax. There would be more to come for both of them. No, he needed to be punished first, and this was like a reward.

 

His lips moved steadily upward. Juliana bit her lip to keep from moaning. This had to stop before it went too far. Just as he reached the apex of her thighs, she grabbed his hair again and pulled him away. “You have not yet earned the right to drink at my fountain,” she hissed. “How dare you take such liberties with your goddess.! Prostrate yourself before me while I think of a suitable way to teach you your place.”

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Charles swallowed a whimper and cringed as Juliana hauled him away by his hair. It was deeply jarring, to be dragged from the soft warmth of her thighs and the tranquil contentment of pleasing his Venus to the stinging coldness of her ire. He wanted to apologise for his failing, but he had been told not to speak and so he pressed himself flat to the floor to await his punishment. He trembled, and could not tell if it was in dread or excitement.

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