The sun’s hardly up, and I’m already breathless and blushing in his hands.
“Th-thank you, Master,” I say obediently as he rises up, licking his fingers of my honey and looking down at me with a satisfied smile. I’m surprised he doesn’t take me with that outlined bulge I see in his pants, but I can tell he has something special in mind for today when he walks over to the outfit he’s brought me again.
“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he says, a simple command. He unzips the outfit to reveal, to my surprise, an old-fashioned riding outfit, complete with a stylish, slim-fitting coat, high, tight pants, and tall boots. “We’re going riding.”
My eyes widen as I look the outfit up and down, feeling the comfortable, rich fabric before glancing up to him. “I’ve never been riding before. Won’t I need a crop?”
He grins as though reading my mind. “No. I’ll be providing that.”
Less than an hour later, the sounds of hooves beating against the soft, dew-covered moors is filling the air as Lord Alastair and I ride.
It was a somewhat awkward process, getting me mounted on Silver, but she’s a sturdy, reliable horse, and Lord Alastair told me she seemed rather more at ease around me than some of the other staff, to his delight. His own horse Dusty is more of an untamed spirit. Nobody else has been permitted to ride him.
But I take to the process of riding like a fish in water. The feeling of such a big animal under me takes a few minutes to get used to, but once I stop being nervous — Lord Alastair at my side does a lot to help that — I find myself able to let go and feel really, truly free.
Cool wind whips around us as we ride, watching the sun rise brilliantly over the hills as we head towards the slowly waking town of Rookswood, passing by pastures and idyllic cottages that dot the countryside.
I feel like I’m in
a lucid dream, my heart pounding in my chest as we ride. We make our way up a hill, a breezy vista that overlooks Rookswood like something out of a postcard. As soon as we’re up on the top, approaching an old oak tree that surveys the whole scene like an ancient monolith, I feel almost dizzied by the wonder of it all.
“Lord Alastair,” I say finally as we dismount the horses and he takes the reins from me, leading the beasts to a nearby smaller tree to tie them off, glancing over his shoulder at me with a wolfish smile. “I never knew the countryside could be so beautiful.”
“Still nothing compared to the Welsh Marches, my darling,” he says, striding over to me, his height imposing as ever in his black riding outfit and blood-red shirt, riding crop dangling at his side. “And nothing still compared to the locals found there,” he adds, lifting my chin with his fingers.
I’ve come to adore his touch so, and my body leans forward into the motion, warming at the thought of him already.
“Tell me, darling,” he says as his hand works up my coat, sliding it off gently and tossing it aside before he does the same for himself. “You’re charmed by my little corner of the world, but I have a question for you — what do you think of its master?”
I blink up at him, dumbfounded. I’ve heard him ask me a hundred questions about my relationship to him: do I like the feeling of his cock inside me? Do I hunger for it? Does my body ache without his touch? How does it feel to be so exposed before him? The tingling in my pussy reminds me of my answers to all those questions, but not once has he ever posed a question...well, phrased quite like this.
Sensing my confusion, Lord Alastair smiled, taking a few steps closer, making me back into the great oak that must have stood here for centuries. “Let me put this a different way, Maisie,” he says in a husky tone, and he wraps his hands around my hips.
When he leans down to kiss me, my heart flutters in a new and unexpected way. He kisses me ravenously, lustfully, so often, but this is different.
He’s tender.
I can feel his heart pounding as his chest presses into mine, and he pulls me into him as his hands slip up to my cheeks, cradling my head as he locks lips with me. His tongue grazes at mine, but when my eyes flutter open, I see a tinge of red in his own cheeks. For the first time, he looks at me blatantly with something more than just lust — I’ve seen hints of something more in those dark eyes, but I never dared suspect…
“I worry I’ve feelings for you, Maisie,” he says, and my mouth falls open, eyes going wide as I feel my knees shake under me. “It’s the sweetest worry I’ve had in years.”
“Lord Alastair…” I breathe, but he continues.
“Maisie, I should be honest with you. I’ve kept myself from true feelings like this since my first stint in what I’d called love left my heart in ruins many years ago.” He lets his fingers trace around my outfit, cupping my breast and making me shiver. “I took to hiring young women like yourself to satisfy my...needs...without any strings attached. That’s why I burned through so many domestics in the past. None of them were willing, none bold enough to do what you’ve done so naturally,” he says, meeting my gaze and holding it like a tiger holds its prey in its eyes. I find myself speechless, mouth gaping.
“I never thought for a moment-” I start.
“You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met — and I’ve met everyone from highborne ladies to the lowest of the low. I love you, Maisie,” Lord Alastair says, sincerity written across his face, and I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth in turn.
“I love you with all my heart, Lord Alastair,” I say, and he sweeps me up in a passionate kiss again, a kiss that seems to push away all the worries of the outside world, all the chill of the English winter air, leaving just us together, hearts intertwined.
Within moments, he has my pants undone, and he lowers them just a hair, enough to expose my wettening pussy to him. His leather gloves are still on his hands, and he cups my face with one of them as he uses the other to release his monstrous cock.
“Stay with me, Maisie,” he growls as I feel his stiff cock come out and press against my waist, “stay here in my manor and be my bride, and I’ll give you everything your wild heart could desire.”
“God, Lord Alastair,” I cry out as he perches his crown on my wet, needy pussy. “We could be living on the streets, and I’d still be yours. Take all of me,” I beg.
“Girl,” he growls as he swirls his bulging crown around my clit, making my knees weak before he lifts me up with his hands, pinning me against the tree with remarkable ease. “You’ll never want for me again, nor anything. All I am and have, I pledge to you,” he says, kissing me deeply. “And you’re mine.”