#254) Bridgerton Revisited

“You beguile me, fair lady.”
“Do tell… If you hadn’t said a thing to me, I think I might have guessed your piqued interest…”
“Are you clairvoyant?”
“One hardly needs to be a “seer” to notice the bulge in your jodhpurs, sir.”
“My, but you’re forward!”
“Hard experiences have taught me that life is short. One must seize the day…”
With this, Lady Windermere reaches out and caresses Lord Chatterton’s member through his trousers. It grows larger, stiffer. She unbuttons his fly, takes it out into the mid-morning air. She rubs its head across her soft cheek, kisses its eye as she looks beseechingly up at the lord standing over her.
“Does my boldness offend you, sir?”
“Not offend, but disarm. I have never…”
“Never, sir? Not even with the ladies of ill repute on Bleecher Street?”
“I… I… I…!”
“You seem surprised that I know about such things. I paid one once to tell me all her secrets. When I put that lass’ secrets into practice, I found out some things about me, about my sexuality…” The lady still cradled his cock in her delicate grip. She licked its impressive length from base near the balls to its straining head with her moistened tongue, sending shivers of great excitement up the lord’s spine. “Would you like to hear some of my discoveries?”
Yes! Oh, yes! Desperately…!”
Still fondling his manhood expertly and kissing it occasionally, Lady Windermere unpacked her satchel of self-knowledge.
“I like to be treated roughly when it comes to sexual matters,” she began.
“Like a whore?” he sighed, trying to contain his excitement.
“More like a race mare, sir. I like to feel the riding crop across my flanks and rump to urge me on. I like to be ridden hard… Does such a vigorous race interest you, sir?”
“Like nothing else on this celestial ball!” he ejaculated breathlessly.
“Did you carry a riding crop when you rode into my garden today?”
“Yes, mistress,” he nodded.
“Get it, please.”
While he rushed to his steed and back, the lady lifted her dress over her head. Sporting the modern fashion, she wore neither corset nor petticoats. She stood in the morning sun in just a lacy brassiere and cotton pantaloons, which she opened in the rear as she bent across the bench where she’d been sitting.
“Don’t disappointment me, sir. I need to feel the bite of your crop repeatedly and hard if you are to win my favor,” she admonished over her shoulder.
He raised the whip high, brought it down unerringly to the summit of her ample cheekiness. The pale flesh leapt and rippled and a bright red welt blossomed where it had landed. He gave her another, the equal of the first, and then yet another.
“They should be growing ever harder, sir, if you are to be my jockey…”
He redoubled his efforts, making sure that the next stripes were harder than the last. The whip made a fearsome, loud report as it cracked across her beam.
“That’s more like it! And are you growing ever harder, as well, sir?”
“I ache for you, mistress!”
“Finish strong, sir, get me across the wire, still harder, faster, whip me onward!”
Lord Chatterton flailed the titled girl’s buttocks harder than he would any well-bred equine. She took the beating without the blink of an eye or the shedding of a single tear, sticking her well upholstered hindquarters out obscenely. She was even able to speak clearly as he thrashed her,
“Now, rest assured, sir, that you won’t be putting your erection where a seed might hold and germinate into a baby… That heavenly prize is reserved for a husband when I marry one… Decide, please, if you’d like to align your crowing cock up the crevice of my buttocks to roger that divide… or if you’d like me to take its length into my mouth and suck you to eruption…?”
“Might I experience a taste of both?” he waivered.
The lady rolled her eyes, always amazed at the entitled attitude of these privileged gentlemen. She sat on the bench and took his manhood into her warm and inviting mouth. After a moment’s bathing, she extracted it to advise, “Pinch my nipples as I play you like a flute.”
He did. She sucked and tongued, clearly having learned her lessons from that whore very well.
“God! I can’t withstand much of this ecstasy!”
She took him at his word, stood, turned, bent as she had before. He saw all her charms for a brief moment, both the engorged slit and the delicate dimple, before she helped him put his erect cock into the dark divide between her buttocks. Pressing the striped and welted flesh around his near-ready rocket from both sides of the magnificent orbs. He only was able to thrust along the heavenly peach cleft twice before exploding, coating her bare back with white stickiness, jetting spurts into her coiffed hair. Unbeknownst to him, as he rogered her crack, Lady Windermere fingered her sexual organ, and spent copiously her own viscous nectar as he painted her back in white. She had adroitly drained him of all his spunk, and he was left besotted.
“I must see you again!” he proclaimed.
She laughed mellifluously, “If you think you’re going to have your way with me every time we tryst…”
“I would not presume,” he stuttered. “I… I plan to ride straight to your father’s house to ask for your hand in marriage…”
The lady smirked at his presumptuousness, but she didn’t deflate his inflated balloon then and there. Instead she rejoined with a fib, “I’m flattered, sir. Good luck!”
Lord Chatterton rode his fiery mount reminiscently as hard as he had the intriguing ingénue all the way to the Windermere estate at a gallop, his mind filled with images of how blessed a marriage would be to a comely girl of manners to run his household every day and who fucked him like a dirty whore every night.
Lord Windermere agreed to meet with the suitor, but upon questioning, found the Chatterton’s not sufficiently high borne to qualify as marriage material for his esteemed daughter. She was going to “marry up” socially, and this man didn’t offer that. Strangely, he was the nineth young man to propose a marriage contract to his eldest daughter, Clarice, this year. The elder Windermere knew that his daughter was well spoken and intelligent, but not the most enchanting lass in the land.
The lord walked away crestfallen when the elder gentleman broke this news to him. The elder just shook his head in bewilderment.
“What is it about Clarice that enchants all these men so?” he wondered aloud, not for the first time.

(How bloomers were designed in this day and age, allowing access in order to go to the bathroom, as well as other activities.)

4 responses to “#254) Bridgerton Revisited”

  1. I have never watched an episode of the popular show, “Bridgerton,” nor have I ever read a romance novel. I saw the photo and wanted to try to write for that period. I hope you enjoy. This piece inspired me to try writing a more complex one, coming soon…

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: