Chapter 21

Kris sat looking at the tape machine that was playing the prerecorded set for the next four hour time slot at the radio station. Assuming the machine worked properly, he had nothing to do for an hour, until he'd break in and give a quick weather report.

He looked at what was on the screen in front of him. Quigley's actions with the Duchess of Fellborough were remarkably like Kris' first tryst with Lulu in some ways. He now thought of her as Lulu, but it was because she was a "loo loo" in bed. In the scene he'd just written, Quigley had sat on the duchess, who resisted him vociferously, telling him she'd rather die than submit to what she called his evil intentions. But she'd only been able to resist so long before she was just plain physically exhausted.

Quigley had taken great delight in watching her resistance become less violent. He hadn't really forced her to do anything, thus far. His hands had gone for the buttons of her bodice and she'd slapped them away. He'd squeezed her breasts in return, not viciously, but rather gently, and remarked on how soft, yet firm they were. He had kept doing that, just attempting to unbutton her dress and repeatedly stroking her breasts, until she now lay limply under him.

He lifted one knee and placed her hand under it, letting enough of his weight down to pin it to the Persian carpet on the deck of his cabin. That carpet was thick and lush, soft beyond imagining.

"No!" she whimpered.

He reached for her other hand and she winced as the hand already pinned took more of his weight.

"Sorry," he said softly, as he pinned her other hand.

"No you're not, you beast," she moaned.

"I AM quite sorry that I'm causing you distress," he said, as his fingers went to the now undefended buttons of her dress. "I'm not at all sorry that I will at last be able to see the lovely orbs I know lie under this cloth."

"You're an animal," she snapped, some life coming back into her voice.

"Well then, when I take you, I shall take you from behind, as befits an animal," he said, grinning.

"You wouldn't!" she cried. "You mustn't debase me like this!"

"I'm not debasing you," he argued, spreading her dress apart as much as the thick cloth would allow. Her undergarment, he saw with a smile, had ties down the front. He pulled at one pink bow and she moaned. "I'm simply going to introduce you to something you've missed for far too long. You'll thank me later, I wager."

"Bastard!" she moaned as he undid another bow and spread the cloth of her chemise. The deep valley between her snow white breasts was revealed.

"To the contrary," said the buccaneer. "I know who both of my parents are and they are properly married."

"I am not!" she cried. "You will soil me. You have already soiled me!"

"Oh," said Quigley, leaning down to kiss the inside of one breast. "I haven't begun to soil you, my dear."

Kris read the rest of it ... the slow unveiling of the duchess' breasts, as she found energy to struggle again. Quigley had used this technique before, but Kris thought it would work again. Now, Quigley could use his hands on her wrists and continue baring her breasts with his teeth. When her surprisingly large ... and surprisingly firm ... nipples finally came into view, he used his lips and tongue on them until she sobbed with the frustration of finding that she could not resist enjoying what he was doing to her and lay unresisting again.

Kris decided that he would take the Duchess of Fellborough's awakening just as slowly as it seemed things had gone with Lulu. It would be slower, actually, because Kris wanted to see in the Duchess' eyes the same eager acceptance of Quigley's final attentions Kris had seen in Lulu's eyes. He would never in all his life forget that look, as he saw permission to have what he had so suddenly and so desperately needed. He knew it had happened quickly, but it had still seemed to take ages. That was what he was trying to write now.

Thinking about how he had unveiled Lulu's breasts just naturally made him think of what had happened after that, and the next day, and he found himself impossibly stiff.

He didn't masturbate, though. Instead, he thought about the other woman in his memory.

Lola.

He could see her better in his mind's eye now. He knew he had kissed her lips and could feel that they had been lovers, though he couldn't remember that part yet. But even so, he knew already that he had never felt for Lola what he already felt for Lulu.

He smiled at the similarity between their names. That was the only similarity. He was absolutely sure of that. He couldn't articulate it, but he felt nothing for Lola. He felt EVERYTHING for Lulu. Her acceptance of him was like stumbling upon a huge bag of gold or diamonds, something so eye-popping that the finder just couldn't believe it. He still had a hard time accepting that it was real.

He thought about her response during the day that followed what could only be called a night of torrid lovemaking. Everything about it had been precious. She had welcomed him, bare, into her inner depths ... had wailed her joy as he fountained in her. That alone was a precious gift for any woman to give her lover.

His reverie was broken as he suddenly wondered if she was protected. He hoped so. The last thing he needed to do was complicate her life with an unplanned pregnancy. It was only natural to take that thought further and look, interestedly, at his inner reactions to that possibility. He was almost shocked to find that he'd almost demand to marry her if that happened. He was shocked by that both because he somehow knew he had resisted the idea of marriage thus far in his life and because he somehow knew she would resist his proposal, should he make it.

"This is crazy," he said aloud. "I've only known her a couple of months!"

He felt foolish for talking to an empty room. He could not deny that he felt more strongly for this amazing woman than he'd ever felt for any woman in his life. Even though he couldn't remember how he'd felt about any other woman, he knew it couldn't have been like how he felt about Lulu. It would be impossible to forget something like that, that had its seat deep in his soul.

He looked back at the screen. Where to go from here?

Quigley suddenly stood, one foot on either side of the duchess, who lay panting on the thick carpet. Her nipples were now dark red, rather than pink, because he had sucked at them for half an hour. She had continued to plead for him to stop, but her chest had arched up more than once.

"You may go," he said, stepping aside. He did not help her up.

"What?" She looked at him askance.

"I have never raped a woman," he said. "Not really. Oh, they've complained at my attentions, but, in the end, they were women and I was a man, and we did what came naturally to both of us."

"You're not going to ravish me?" She was obviously confused.

"I'll ravish you," he said, smiling. "But not yet. Do not wear a chemise under your dress again."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because each time I call you here I'm going to expose those lovely breasts and do what I did today. I don't want the chemise in the way."

She either shuddered or shivered, and seemed to realize the breasts under discussion were currently bare. She pulled her dress to cover them and sat up.

"You're toying with me," she accused.

"Most assuredly," he said.

"What will you do now?" she asked, warily.

"Mistress Constance has watched her mother being a woman," he said. "She watched a number of times and has begun to show curiosity about how her mother has reacted during that activity."

"But you promised Lady Tinsley you'd leave her daughter alone!"

Quigley wasn't surprised that the women talked together. It would have been only normal for them to confide in this woman.

"If the girl seeks me out ... if she is in heat ... why should I resist?" His lips made a very small smile. "Particularly when I have been inflamed by your considerable charms?" he added.

"You'd abuse a child because I resist you?" she asked, incredulous.

"She is no child, Duchess Clayworth. She is as much a woman as you are and her needs are the same as yours shall be someday soon."

"You mock me!" she yipped.

"I know women," he said simply. "You have no idea what the joys of the flesh are like. You have eschewed them these many years. There will come a time when you will regret that. It is simple truth."

"You mustn't ruin her!" insisted the Duchess of Fellborough.

"My sword is long and hard and demands to be sheathed in flesh," he said, rubbing the bulge at the front of his pantaloons.

"Take her mother again, if you must rut like a beast!" insisted the duchess. "She is already dismayed and cannot be ruined more than you have already done."

Quigley looked at the woman still sitting on the carpet, who didn't understand yet that Quigley planned on impregnating the Lady Tinsley before he returned her to civilization. Her daughter too, if possible. He put sorrow plainly on his face.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"What?" she asked.

"How you affect men," he explained. "Men, to you, are only laborers, business partners, or servants. You don't see them as male. Let me assure you, they recognize your femininity. You have driven many a man mad, I think. I feel it myself. It is only that I refuse to force you that has kept your honor intact this day. I must be compensated for such restraint and a willing young virgin will suffice, I think."

"You attempt to blackmail me!" she protested. "You blame me for the ruination of a poor girl!"

"Bare your breasts for me, Henrietta," he said calmly. "Bare them voluntarily and let me kiss them without resisting, and I will leave her alone."

"How can I do that?" she moaned. "You know I loathe you ... loathe your touch ... loathe your very presence."

"Tis but a small sacrifice to preserve the honor of ... that poor girl, as you name her."

Kris changed the tape, and reviewed what he'd written. The duchess had submitted ... eventually ... angrily. Quigley had refused to touch her and had continued to ruminate, out loud, about how delicious it would be to have a young virgin, until, in a state of total surrender, the woman in front of him had pulled her arms from the dress, leaving her entire upper torso bare. She had said a single word, softly, pleading: "Please."

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