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This is the Earl of Rochester teaching Nell Gwynn a thing or two.
"Nell lay with Rochester beside her in the tangled bed linen.
She was utterly spent, yet felt more alive than she had ever been.
Her nether regions were still humming from Rochester's attentions.
She had not known it was possible to experience a sensation quite like that his tongue had produced in her.
“Tipping the velvet,” he had called it.
Certainly she had never imagined anything like that inexorable build
to the shattering release that had had her gasping, bucking, pulling his head to her, never wanting it to end.
Rochester brought her back to the present with a squeeze of her right breast.
“Fetch the wine.”
Nell turned her head. The wine lay on the table several feet away.
“Why me fetch it?”
“Because I told you to.”
She padded naked across to the table, returned with the bottle, and filled the glasses they had abandoned.
Propped against the enormous down-filled pillows, she surveyed the bed and its trappings.
“I love this bed. It’s so…”
“This bed is your stage, from such a stage you could do anything."
Nell set the glass down and moved on her knees closer to him.
He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing her mouth.
He seized first one breast and then both of them, his fingers playing with her nipples, teasing and then pinching until she gasped.
He looked intently into her eyes, and pinched harder.
“Give me drink.”
She held the glass to his lips and then to her own.
“You’ve spilled it."
He used a finger to wipe a drop from her breast, touched it to her lips, and then thrust it into her mouth.
“Suck."
Now use your tongue, too. Good. Now stop.”
He withdrew his finger slowly from her mouth and pulled her head back
so that she had to look at him, then released her and gestured for his wine.
Nell felt a curious excitement and anticipation.
“You look pleased with yourself,”
“Should I not? You liked it. See, I’ve made you hard again.”
She reached for his ***, but he stayed her hand.
“Yes. But I can make you better.
So good that you can leave the feel of your tongue and throat on a man’s tarse
for days.”
Nell smiled at him, catlike.
"Very well my lord. What would you?”
She knelt between his thighs, her hand still moving lightly,
her eyes looking up at him.
Rochester shook his head, impatient
“Do you not understand? What power there is in that mouth,
these sumptuous ***, that tight *** of yours?”
“Power to do what?”
“Almost anything
Now you can give a man a quick ride that leaves him happy or a night of play that tires him.
But there is more to learn.
You can give a man such pleasure, not just in his body but in his mind,
his soul, that you become a drug. So that he will crave you.
So that his *** will ache and give him no peace until his prick is once more master of that smooth warmth.
And I can train you, pretty pet.
[God, you've all got filthy minds.]
Do you want that?”
Nell found that her heart was beating and her loins were on fire.
She looked up at Rochester and found that she could hardly breathe.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. On your knees. No, off the bed.
For this is your god, and you must worship it.”
He moved to the edge of the bed and stood, and she knelt at his feet.
She took his *** in her hands and kissed it, then took him into her mouth slowly.
“Look at me.”
Nell didn’t lift her eyes but took him further into her mouth. Rochester grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.
“Look at me. So that I know that my pleasure is all your world.”
Nell breathless now, nodded, and kept her eyes on his.
“Now a little harder. Good. Use your tongue. Delicately.
Ah yes, so good. The desperate softness of your tongue, and the insistent sucking of your mouth.
Now a hand on the cods. Gently, gently.
They are spun of pure silk, of cloud.”
For all the times that Nell had performed this act, she felt as if she had never before truly noticed the feel of a prick in her mouth,
of *** in her hand. Her tongue slip voluptuously around him, feeling the velvet softness.
"Now...
“the other hand on the shaft. First lightly, now a firmer grip. Up and down. Meeting your mouth on its downward journey.
Good. A little harder now. Now think of your tongue again. Look at me.
Yes, and use your hand to keep the *** pulled back.
Don’t forget the ***.”
His head was thrown back, his breathing heavy.
Nell marvelled how she could be giving him pleasure in so many ways at once and sought to feel each individual sensation at the same time.
He looked down at her again and slowed his movements.
“Now,
put a finger in my ***.
Look at me. Let me see the promise of what is to come. Yes, gently, slowly.
Now, take all of it in, show me you’re hungry for it.
Your mouth moving, sucking hard, tongue caressing, hand on the cods.
Yes. Good. Remember-
I am your God.
Take me as far down your throat as you can.”
He guided her with a hand grasped in her hair, the other hand rolling and squeezing one of her nipples, which were hard as pebbles.
“Do you love my ***?”
Nell found that she did.
“Do you worship it, my arbor vitae, my tree of life?”
Yes, that, too.
“And do you now wish for holy communion?”
Here it was, the culminating inevitability, and Nell did wish for it.
“Then you shall have it.”
Rochester came deep in her throat holding her head fast with one hand, the other hand pinching her *** hard.
“Swallow. Waste not a precious drop. Now look at me. Let me see it in your eyes. It's the nectar of life.
[Write about what you know, it's good advice.]
Sweeter than honey, more potent than brandywine. And what you crave above all else.
Yes. Now, a kiss to finish. Obeisance to your lord.”
[You must be a lot of fun to be married to.]
Nell did as he told her, her lips and nose grazing the damp and delicate flesh.
"Eyes on mine"
[It's a pity you don't have any lines here.]
She looked up at him, mouth still nuzzling. He stroked her hair, smoothing the tangled curls from her flushed forehead and nodded.
"Do that, and there is nothing you cannot do."
Nell felt overwhelmed by physical sensations—a tingling mixture of pleasure and pain, the feel of him in her mouth,
and the caustic warmth of his spend still at the back of her throat—and a tumult of feelings—joyful submission,
exultation, astonishment at the newness of it all. She stared up at Rochester and shook her head in amazement.
"How ever did you learn all this?"
Rochester gave a lazy smile as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the pillows.
“That’s what Europe is for.”
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