Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

It’s a library, a huge, sprawling study with bookshelves lining every wall from floor to ceiling. Two spiral staircases lead up to a balcony in the center of the room, where a heavy desk is situated overlooking the whole place, and ladders sit perched against the bookshelves at each wall. The balcony extends all along the library like a second floor, and below where the desk sits is a warm, crackling fireplace flanked by statues of lions. I’ve always been a reader, but this? This is breathtaking. Lord Alastair steps in, and the door closes behind us with a dull thud, leaving us in silence.

I swallow. “Lord Alastair-” I start, but he calmly holds up a hand, his back to me.

“Master,” he says, and I blink, taken aback.

“I don’t…” I start, but he cuts me off again.

“You will refer to me as ‘Master’ from here onward, Maisie Kent,” he says, and my name is like the deep and haunting notes of a masterwork organ on his tongue. I blush. The way he looked at me on the stairs already had me on edge, but ‘Master?’ A shiver goes up my spine. Just what did this man hire me for?

He turns his head ever so slightly, and I realize he’s waiting for an answer. Shit, shit, what do I do? Something about all this, the outfit, the looks, commanding and controlling what I do and how I speak, it all feels so predatory. But then, there’s something almost supernatural about the way he commands my obedience, and I find the words spilling out of my mouth:

“Yes, Master.”

Finally, he turns, striding towards me slowly with those penetrating eyes. “Good girl. I will forgive this one mistake of yours.”

He can read the confusion and uncertainty in my face, and he reaches down to my skirt. Before I can stop him, he hooks a finger around my panties, his hand a vice on the thin, soft fabric, and I can feel his fingers on my bare skin as I look at him with widening eyes. His gaze hasn’t changed at all, a steely gaze that holds me immobile.

“This is not part of your uniform,” he says, his voice dripping with dark authority. Slowly, he withdraws his hand, praying he didn’t feel how wet this is making me.

I can’t help it, and I hate myself for it, but something about this terrifying man who has me cornered in his library is making my heart beat faster. I should have listened to my mother and stayed home, but this is such an unforeseen rush.

“I…” I squeak, but I should be livid, shouting at him for violating me so personally. But I can’t find it in my to do that. Before I can form any words, he steps forward and takes my face in his hand, bringing me forward and looking me over thoughtfully. Then his thumb swipes across my small mouth, and I feel warmth between my thighs getting warmer. Those blue eyes are so hard to read, but he’s looking at me like he might look over a piece of jewelry, and it’s driving something within me wild.

He makes a thoughtful noise, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he looks at me, and his hand lowers from my face.

“Remove it,” he says simply, and I don’t know what to say.

When I don’t respond instantly, he glances at me, such an iron vice in that glance that I feel my body impulsively going to my skirt, reaching under to the edge of my panties and pausing there a moment. Am I really doing this? Is this happening? Is he making me do this? No, I could walk out right now, but instead, I hook my fingers under the elastic and slowly, so slowly bring it down. I’m a proud woman—I’m not going to whip my panties off in a nervous haste, even if there’s something intoxicating about his commands, like a sweet poison I can’t get enough of.

And those eyes watch me closely as I bring the fabric down my thighs, across the white of the frilly stockings, then down to my heels.

Without his asking, I then stand up and hand the underwear to him. He pauses a moment before extending his hand and taking it, bringing the front of the simple white fabric to his nose, never breaking eye contact with me.

For the first time, I see an almost cruel, mocking smile cross his lips, and he balls the underwear up in his fist before he tosses it aside. “You desire me,” he states, a simple truth whether I want to argue it or not. “You will learn quickly. Apologize for your mistake.”

My breath is caught in my throat. This is petrifying, and I’m like a deer in the headlights for a moment. He slowly raises an eyebrow, like a teacher waiting for his answer from a petulant student. But if it’s going to cost me my job, then fuck me, I’ll be the best student ever. But I can’t pretend that the job is the only thing on my mind when I look at his terrifying, gorgeous figure looming over me.

“I...I’m sorry, Master,” I say, looking up at him demurely as I fold my hands in front of me, not forgetting to include the last part. It’s subtle, but I can tell he likes that. There’s so much on my mind. How did he know my name? How much did he know about me before I even set foot in here? Was I sent here just to...to be his…

“Good. I do not tolerate deviation among my staff...unless I direct it,” he says, his voice like silk. “As for your punishment,” he says, taking a step back and folding his hands behind his back, and I feel a chill run down my spine. Punishment? For wearing panties? Is he serious? But his even gaze tells me he is deadly serious. “Strip for me, Maisie.”

I swipe my tongue across my lips, cheeks furiously red. The audacity of this man! I’m just a domestic, how can he expect me to jump at his orders like some slave?

“Lord Ala- er, Master. I-I-I worry there might have been some mistake,” I said, and his cold gaze tells me I never should have spoken at all, but I press on. “I took this job thinking I was to be a m-maid, not a...a…”

“A what, Maisie?” he asks, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “Did you not come here knowing you would be asked to follow my exac

t orders,” he says, fury just below that dark exterior. “I won’t ask again, Maisie. Take your clothes off.”

I look absolutely helpless, but there’s something in me spurring me on. The aura about this man is enough to overwhelm a girl, and I feel my heart racing at a mile a minute. Finally, I swallow all my pride, all my defiance, and I let something more base come to the surface. Why am I doing this? I don’t know, but something burning under my skin compels me.

I step out of my shoes first, feeling even smaller in front of him as I push them aside, leaving myself in stockings on the cool floor. I reach behind my back and unfasten my corset slowly, and he watches hungrily as my body relaxes into its natural shape.

The freckles on my shoulders look all the more prominent against my pale skin in this light. I have a small, round face that people have called pixie-like before, but nothing about the way Lord Alastair is looking at me feels half so whimsical.

I let the corset fall to the ground, leaving my breasts exposed to him, the cool castle draft chilling them and making my nipples stiff. My instinct is to reach up and cover them, biting my lip, but Lord Alastair gives me a look that almost forces my hands to redirect and go to my skirt, slowly pulling it down over my legs and letting it sit at my feet before I step out delicately.

“Good,” he says, a single deep note in the chamber as he starts to step towards me, apparently not minding my stockings, and on reflex, I start to step back towards one of the bookshelves as he makes his way towards me. I’m gripped by fear, something that both terrifies and excites me all at once. I’ve just exposed myself to this man who’s got at least ten years on me, my boss. What am I doing?! I’m just some American girl raised British in way over her head, but come so far now, and my heart is trying to force its way out of my naked breast.