Catherine Howard's quill scratched methodically across parchment as she completed final calculations on Whitehaven's eastern farm production estimates. February rain lashed against the study windows, turning the Kent countryside into a dreary watercolor beyond the glass. The sound created perfect accompaniment to her focused concentration as she annotated profit projections with surprising precision for someone supposedly educated primarily in music and dance.
Bobby Kestrel observed her from his position behind the massive oak desk, noting the confident sweep of her calculations, the lack of hesitation in her numerical manipulations. Despite her deliberately cultivated court persona of frivolous beauty, Catherine worked with unexpected efficiency, completing complex economic projections that would challenge most Oxford-educated men.
"Finished, my lord," Catherine announced, placing the quill in its holder with meticulous care. She passed the completed ledger across the desk with a smile that combined scholarly satisfaction with something more deliberately provocative. "The eastern farms should yield seventeen percent greater profit this quarter compared to traditional cultivation methods, even accounting for additional labor expenditures."
Bobby took the ledger, methodically flipping through its pages. Catherine watched with growing fascination as his eyes moved across each column with remarkable speed, seemingly absorbing complex calculations in mere seconds per page. Within two minutes, he had reviewed the entire thirty-page document.
"The figures appear accurate," he confirmed, closing the ledger and placing it on his desk. "Your estimate regarding increased yield actually proves slightly conservative. I anticipate closer to nineteen percent improvement once soil enhancement measures take full effect."
Catherine tilted her head, studying him with unexpected intensity. "You couldn't possibly have read all that," she challenged, though her tone remained respectful. "You merely glanced at each page."
"I read every figure," Bobby corrected without defensiveness. "Your calculation methodology demonstrates remarkable elegance, particularly the weighted averaging for weather variability."
"You actually did read it all," Catherine marveled, genuine surprise replacing her usual calculated expressions. "How is that possible? It took me three days to complete those projections."
Bobby leaned back in his chair, studying her with renewed interest. Most people never noticed his accelerated reading capabilities, accepting his rapid assessments without questioning the underlying impossibility.
"Your number sense is quite advanced," he stated, deliberately redirecting her question. "You mentioned assisting with Howard household accounts previously?"
Catherine nodded, accepting the conversation shift. "My step-grandmother insisted I learn practical management alongside more traditional female accomplishments. I maintained Norfolk's household ledgers for nearly six months before coming to court."
"Remarkable aptitude regardless of training," Bobby observed. "I recall your precise knowledge of your dowry's value and growth projections without being explicitly informed."
Catherine smiled with unexpected modesty. "Numbers simply... speak to me. They always have, even as a child. I could calculate complex sums in my head before I could properly write."
"If you'd been born in a different era," Bobby said bluntly, "you'd be considered a mathematical genius regardless of your sex."
Catherine blushed, though whether from genuine modesty or calculated performance remained difficult to determine. With her, the line between authentic reaction and deliberate manipulation often blurred beyond recognition.
"These might interest you," Bobby continued, selecting several volumes from his private collection. "Advanced economic theory, double-entry bookkeeping innovations, and predictive market analysis. Concepts typically reserved for guild masters and royal treasurers."
Catherine accepted the books with evident eagerness that appeared entirely genuine, her fingers tracing their spines with apparent reverence. "I've learned more in two months here than in my entire previous education," she admitted. "Both intellectually and... otherwise."
Her tone shifted subtly on the final word, eyes lifting to meet his with deliberate provocation. The intellectual discussion had served its purpose—establishing connection that could now transition toward her preferred interaction.
"Your natural aptitudes deserve proper development," Bobby replied neutrally. "We had an agreement. I'm merely fulfilling my obligations."
Catherine laughed softly, setting the books carefully aside. "Such formal language, my lord. 'Fulfilling obligations.' As though our arrangement were merely contractual rather than mutually pleasurable."
She rose from her chair with feline grace, moving around the desk with unhurried confidence. At eighteen, Catherine Howard had blossomed significantly during her time at Whitehaven. No longer merely Frances Howard's beautiful daughter being offered as potential bride, she had developed remarkable self-assurance that balanced perfectly between respectful deference and confident seduction.
"You should credit your own abilities," Bobby continued, maintaining professional distance despite her approach. "Your progress stems from inherent talent rather than my intervention."
"How charmingly modest," Catherine murmured, positioning herself alongside his chair. "Though I wonder about the primary function of our agreement recently. I'd always assumed it required fulfillment daily, perhaps multiple times per day." Her hand brushed his shoulder with deliberate lightness. "Yet five days have passed since you've properly attended to that particular aspect."
Bobby glanced up at her, noting the slight flush across her cheeks that couldn't be attributed to fireplace heat alone. "Are you wet, Catherine?"
The direct question caught her momentarily off-guard despite her deliberately provocative approach. Her blush deepened, though her composure remained intact. "Yes," she admitted without hesitation. "Embarrassingly so."
"Because I haven't fucked you for five days?"
"Partly," she acknowledged, not bothering to feign modesty. "Also because watching you process complex mathematical calculations with impossible speed proves surprisingly arousing. Intelligence has always affected me that way."
Bobby's lips twitched with momentary amusement. "There remains only one of me, Catherine, despite Whitehaven's numerous female guests. I can hardly line you all up in the same room awaiting service, however efficient that arrangement might prove."
Catherine's eyes widened briefly at this crude suggestion before a laugh escaped her throat. "What a scandalous image," she murmured, though her unconscious licking of her lips suggested the concept affected her more powerfully than she wanted to admit. "Though certain ladies might find such arrangement appealing despite its impropriety."
"I was joking," Bobby clarified, though her reaction interested him.
"Of course," Catherine agreed quickly, though something in her expression suggested the imagined scenario continued playing behind her eyes. "Though it does raise legitimate question regarding your future plans. Will Lady Jane Grey eventually become Lady Kestrel of Whitehaven? Court gossip increasingly suggests formal betrothal announcement before spring."
Bobby's expression cooled slightly. "Mind your own business, Catherine. Your manipulation techniques require substantial refinement if you hope to employ them effectively against me."
Rather than appearing chastened, Catherine giggled with apparent delight at his direct rebuke. "I'd much rather focus on being a good daughter anyway," she whispered, her hand dropping to rest on his thigh with unmistakable purpose. "Isn't that what you prefer?"
Her fingers traced higher along his leg, approaching his groin with deliberate slowness that allowed ample opportunity for rejection should he wish to maintain professional distance. When no discouragement came, her touch grew bolder, palm pressing against the growing hardness beneath his breeches.
"Such a good father," Catherine murmured, her voice dropping to sultry register as her fingers traced his length through the fabric. "Working so hard to provide for everyone at Whitehaven. Don't you deserve some relaxation after reviewing all those tedious calculations?"
Bobby remained expressionless despite her increasingly explicit touch. "This particular game grows tiresome through repetition, Catherine."
"Does it?" she challenged softly, her palm rubbing more firmly along his hardening cock. "Your body suggests otherwise. Perhaps you simply require more creative variations to maintain interest."
Without waiting for response, she sank gracefully to her knees beside his chair—a position that would have shocked anyone familiar with her aristocratic Howard lineage. Her fingers worked at the fastening of his breeches with practiced efficiency that demonstrated both eagerness and experience gained during their previous encounters.
"Such a magnificent cock," she murmured appreciatively as she freed him from the confining fabric. Her fingers wrapped around his substantial girth, stroking with deliberate pressure that drew involuntary tension through his muscular frame. "No wonder Jane Grey visits so frequently for 'scholarly discussions.'"
Bobby's hand shot out, fingers tangling in Catherine's auburn hair with sudden firmness that halted her movement. "You tread dangerous ground with such provocations."
Far from appearing intimidated, Catherine's eyes sparkled with triumph at having triggered his reaction. "Does it bother you when I mention her? Your precious Jane with her scholarly Latin and philosophical discussions?"
Her lips hovered mere inches from his cock as she spoke, warm breath teasing against sensitive skin despite his restraining grip on her hair. "I wonder what she'd think seeing me like this? On my knees before you, eager to take my father's magnificent cock down my willing throat."
Bobby's grip tightened further, genuine irritation flashing briefly across his features before controlled calm resettled. "You deliberately provoke," he observed, voice dropping to dangerous register that confirmed her tactics had achieved desired effect. "Testing boundaries to measure reaction."
"Is it working?" Catherine asked with surprising directness despite her vulnerable position. Her fingers continued stroking his length with skillful pressure. "Does thinking about Jane while your cock rests in my hand create more powerful arousal? Or is it the contrast between her scholarly restraint and my shameless eagerness that excites you?"
Bobby's expression remained neutral despite the provocative questions. "Stand up," he commanded, releasing her hair with sudden movement that suggested controlled anger lurking beneath his composed surface.
Catherine complied immediately, rising with fluid grace that somehow conveyed both obedience and continued provocation. Before she could speak further, Bobby's hand closed around her upper arm, physically moving her backward until her shoulders met the study wall with controlled force that stopped just short of actual discomfort.
"You seem determined to provoke particular response," he observed, his free hand gathering her skirts upward with methodical efficiency. "Perhaps direct demonstration would prove more effective than verbal chastisement."
Catherine's breath quickened noticeably, her pupils dilating as Bobby's hand found its way beneath her bunched skirts. His fingers encountered bare thigh above her stockings, then moved higher with deliberate purpose until reaching the apex of her legs without encountering additional undergarments.
"No drawers," he noted without surprise, fingers encountering abundant wetness that confirmed her earlier admission. "Prepared for this specific outcome from the moment you entered my study."
"Yes," Catherine admitted without shame, her legs shifting slightly apart to provide better access despite their standing position against the wall. "I've been wet since breakfast thinking about you bending me over your desk."
Bobby's finger slid through her slick folds without immediate penetration, gathering evidence of her arousal before circling her sensitive clitoris with precise pressure that made her gasp sharply. "You crave discipline," he observed clinically despite his evident arousal. "Deliberate provocation hoping for forceful response rather than gentle seduction."
"Yes," Catherine agreed breathlessly, her hips pushing forward against his hand with shameless eagerness. "I want you to stop treating me like delicate flower requiring careful handling."
Bobby's expression hardened slightly, though something approaching appreciation flickered beneath his controlled exterior. Unlike Frances Howard's calculated offering of her daughter for potential alliance, Catherine herself demonstrated remarkable self-awareness regarding her desires and manipulations.
"Turn around," he commanded, withdrawing his hand from between her legs. "Face the wall."
Catherine complied instantly, turning to press her palms against the polished oak paneling. Without being instructed, she arched her back slightly, presenting her posterior toward him in position that could hardly be misinterpreted. Her skirts remained bunched around her waist from his earlier investigation, exposing her bare ass and glistening sex to his view without modesty or hesitation.
"Such eagerness," Bobby observed, moving close behind her without immediate contact. "What would your noble grandfather think seeing his precious granddaughter presenting herself like common tavern slut?"
"He'd be horrified," Catherine acknowledged without shame, glancing over her shoulder with expression combining deliberate innocence with unmistakable provocation. "But I'm not his granddaughter in this room, am I? I'm just your eager little girl begging for daddy's attention."
The deliberately transgressive roleplay hit its target precisely. Bobby's hand connected with Catherine's bare ass in sharp slap that echoed through the study, the impact leaving pink handprint against her pale skin. Rather than protesting, Catherine moaned appreciatively, pushing back toward him with shameless invitation.
"Please, Daddy," she whispered, voice dropping to childlike register that contrasted obscenely with her explicitly sexual positioning. "I've been such a good girl with my numbers and calculations. Don't I deserve reward?"
Bobby's response came in form of second, harder slap against her other cheek, creating matching pink imprint that drew another appreciative moan from Catherine's throat. His free hand moved between her legs, finding her even wetter than before, her arousal visibly coating her inner thighs with glistening evidence of her body's enthusiastic response to this treatment.
"Filthy little slut," Bobby growled, the crude language clearly specific response to her deliberate provocations. "Pretending scholarly interest while plotting ways to get cock between your legs."
"Yes," Catherine agreed shamelessly, spreading her stance wider without being instructed. "I'm your slut. Your whore. Your cock-hungry little girl who can't focus on numbers when thinking about being filled with daddy's big cock."
Bobby positioned himself behind her, his substantial length resting against the cleft of her ass without immediate penetration. The contact drew a whimpering sound from Catherine's throat, her hips pushing back with unmistakable invitation despite the already explicit nature of their positioning.
"You want it rough today," Bobby observed, recognizing her deliberate provocations served specific purpose beyond mere arousal. "Testing whether Lady Jane receives similar treatment during her frequent scholarly consultations."
"Does she?" Catherine couldn't resist asking despite her vulnerable position. "Does your precious Jane enjoy cock as thoroughly as I do? Or does she maintain scholarly propriety even with your face between her royal thighs?"
The explicit question earned her another sharp slap across her increasingly pink posterior, the impact firm enough to elicit both gasp of surprise and moan of appreciation from Catherine's parted lips.
"Jealous of imagined competition," Bobby noted, his cock sliding lower until it nestled against her dripping entrance without pushing inward. "Seeking reassurance through deliberate provocation rather than direct inquiry."
"Not jealous," Catherine countered breathlessly, though the defensive response itself contradicted her claim. "Simply curious about varying techniques you employ with different women. For educational purposes, of course."
"Of course," Bobby echoed with evident sarcasm, his hands gripping her hips with sudden firmness that suggested immediate penetration would follow. "Purely scholarly interest rather than pathetic attempt at manipulating emotional response."
Without further warning, he thrust forward with controlled force that buried his substantial length completely inside her with single powerful movement. The sudden fullness drew shocked cry from Catherine's throat, her body accepting him completely despite minimal preparation due to her extraordinary natural lubrication.
"Fuck!" The crude expletive escaped her lips without conscious thought, her aristocratic education temporarily abandoned in face of overwhelming physical sensation. "Oh God, you're so deep!"
Bobby established immediate rhythm without gentle buildup, each thrust driving his cock to her very depths with deliberate force that made her entire body jolt against the wall. The wooden paneling creaked slightly with each powerful movement, providing audible counterpoint to Catherine's increasingly vocal appreciation.
"This what you wanted?" Bobby demanded, his hands maintaining firm grip on her hips as he continued his relentless pace. "To be fucked against the wall like common whore rather than properly bedded like noblewoman?"
"Yes!" Catherine agreed eagerly, her body meeting each thrust with perfect counterpoint despite the awkward standing position. "Exactly what I needed! Hard and deep and—God!—so fucking good!"
The explicitly crude language flowing from aristocratic Howard daughter's lips would have shocked anyone familiar with her careful court persona. Yet here in Bobby's study, Catherine seemed to revel in deliberate abandonment of social constraints—finding freedom in temporary surrender to physical pleasure without pretense or calculation.
"Such a good little slut," Bobby growled, one hand moving from her hip to tangle in her auburn hair, pulling with calculated force that arched her neck backward without causing actual pain. "Taking daddy's cock so perfectly with that tight little cunt."
"Yes!" Catherine agreed enthusiastically, the crude language and rough handling clearly increasing her arousal rather than offending her sensibilities. "I'm your slut! Your whore! Your good little girl who loves daddy's big cock stretching her tight little cunt!"
The explicit continuation of their incestuous roleplay pushed Bobby's arousal higher despite rational awareness of its artificial nature. Catherine had developed remarkable ability to identify and exploit his psychological triggers with precise accuracy that sometimes proved genuinely discomforting given her youth and relative inexperience compared to his vast existence.
"You think about this during your lessons?" Bobby demanded, maintaining his punishing rhythm as sweat began beading across his forehead despite his supernatural stamina. "Calculating agricultural yields while imagining my cock pounding this greedy cunt?"
"Always," Catherine gasped between powerful thrusts that knocked audible breath from her lungs with each impact. "Can't focus properly...when all I want...is daddy's cock...filling me completely!"
Bobby's hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head further back until her spine arched at almost uncomfortable angle. The position created additional friction against her most sensitive internal areas, drawing whimpering sounds from her throat that suggested approaching climax despite their relatively brief coupling thus far.
"Fucking slut getting close already," he observed, voice dropping to dangerous register that rarely emerged during their usual encounters. "Going to come all over daddy's cock like the greedy little whore you are."
"Yes!" Catherine agreed shamelessly, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around his invading length with preliminary contractions that signaled imminent release. "Going to come so hard! Please don't stop! Just like that!"
Bobby maintained his relentless pace, each thrust driving his substantial cock to her very depths with precision that targeted her most sensitive internal areas. Despite the rough nature of their current encounter, he maintained perfect awareness of her responses, adjusting angle slightly when necessary to maximize pleasure despite the forceful handling she had deliberately provoked.
"Such a good little slut," he growled, his free hand moving around to find her clitoris with unerring accuracy despite their awkward position against the wall. "Taking daddy's cock exactly how you need it."
The additional stimulation combined with his continued thrusts pushed Catherine rapidly toward orgasm she had been approaching. When release finally crashed through her slender frame, the sound that escaped her throat barely resembled anything human—a keening wail that might have alarmed anyone beyond their chamber walls had they been within hearing distance.
"DADDY! YES! FUCK! CLAIMING ME! YOURS!" The fragmented exclamations burst from her lips between gasping breaths as her inner walls clamped around Bobby's invading cock with pulsing contractions that bordered painful intensity in their grip.
Bobby maintained his relentless pace through her climax, extending the pleasure with practiced skill while pursuing his own release with single-minded determination. Catherine's orgasm seemed to trigger something primal within him—some deeply buried instinct that demanded completion inside this tight young body that had surrendered so completely to his possession.
As her most intense spasms began subsiding, Catherine's mind returned sufficiently for more deliberate provocation, recognizing Bobby's approaching release from his slightly altered rhythm and increased tension in his muscular frame pressed against her back.
"I wonder what Jane would think seeing this," she murmured with deliberate wickedness despite her breathless state. "Her scholarly lord fucking another woman against the wall like common street whore. What would your precious Jane say watching your cock disappear into my greedy cunt?"
The explicit provocation hit its target with devastating accuracy. Bobby's rhythm faltered momentarily before accelerating to almost punishing intensity, his grip tightening in her hair and on her hip with bruising force that would leave visible evidence for days afterward.
"Shut your fucking mouth," he growled, though his violently renewed thrusting suggested her words had achieved exactly the effect she'd intended. "Manipulative little bitch."
Catherine laughed breathlessly despite her uncomfortable position, recognizing the power her words clearly wielded despite her physically vulnerable stance. "What if she walked in right now?" she continued relentlessly, deliberately pushing further despite potential consequences. "Seeing you buried balls-deep in another woman while pulling her hair like common tavern slut?"
Bobby's hand released her hair, moving instead to cover her mouth with firm pressure that prevented further verbal provocation without actually impeding her breathing. The silencing gesture itself seemed to excite Catherine further, her inner muscles clenching around his invading cock with renewed enthusiasm as second orgasm began building unexpectedly quickly after her first.
With her mouth covered, Catherine could only whimper and moan into his palm as Bobby continued fucking her with increasing urgency that signaled approaching release. His thrusts grew more powerful, each impact driving her body against the wall with force that might have proven uncomfortable without her extraordinary arousal cushioning potential discomfort.
When Bobby's climax finally approached, his rhythm became more erratic, control temporarily fracturing under overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume him completely. His mouth found Catherine's shoulder, teeth sinking into soft flesh with carefully calculated pressure that stopped just short of breaking skin while still providing additional stimulation that pushed her toward unexpected second orgasm.
"Taking my cum," he growled against her ear, removing his hand from her mouth as his release became inevitable. "Flooding this tight little cunt with enough seed to breed a dozen bastards if I weren't careful."
"Yes!" Catherine encouraged breathlessly, her body pushing back against him despite her increasingly exhausted state. "Fill me! Mark me inside! Make me yours!"
Bobby's final thrust buried him completely inside Catherine's trembling body as pleasure crashed through his system in explosive release. His cock jerked violently as seed erupted from his depths, pumping rope after rope of thick cum directly against her cervix with supernatural abundance that far exceeded normal human production.
The sensation of hot fluid flooding her most intimate depths triggered Catherine's second climax, her inner walls rippling around Bobby's pulsing cock with renewed contractions that extended his pleasure far beyond normal duration. Their mutual release created perfect synchronicity—each pulse of his seed triggering corresponding contraction of her internal muscles that prolonged both their pleasure to extraordinary lengths.
"Fuck!" Bobby growled, the explosive expletive containing surprising intensity given his usually controlled responses. "Taking it all like perfect little slut."
Catherine could only whimper in response, words temporarily beyond her capacity as dual pleasure of his release and her own second orgasm overwhelmed her consciousness with sensation beyond physical limitations she'd previously experienced. Her entire body trembled against the wall, supported primarily by his hands on her hips and his cock still buried deeply within her quivering channel.
Only when their most intense mutual pleasure began subsiding did Bobby's grip on her hips relax slightly, though he maintained their connected position rather than immediately withdrawing. The continued fullness inside her created occasional aftershocks that rippled visibly across Catherine's flushed skin, each tiny movement causing renewed rippling around his gradually softening length.
"If Jane becomes your official wife," Catherine murmured once sufficient breath returned for speech, "she'll be my stepmother despite being younger than me." Her voice contained deliberate provocation despite their recently completed coupling. "I wonder what my new stepmother would say finding her husband's cock buried inside her stepdaughter's cunt?"
Bobby's softening member immediately responded to this explicit provocation, hardening slightly within her still-clenching channel. The reaction drew breathy laugh from Catherine, her ability to manipulate his responses now confirmed beyond any doubt.
"What a filthy little mind you possess," Bobby observed, though renewed arousal evidenced by his re-hardening cock belied any genuine disapproval in his tone. "Deliberately imagining scenarios designed to provoke specific response."
"It's working though, isn't it?" Catherine challenged, deliberately clenching her internal muscles around his reawakening length. "I can feel you getting hard again inside me. The idea excites you despite yourself."
Unwilling to provide verbal confirmation of her successful manipulation, Bobby responded physically instead. His hand tangled in her hair again, pulling her head back as he established renewed rhythm within her still-sensitive channel. The combined sensation of his reawakened cock stretching her freshly-fucked passage and the slight pain from her pulled hair drew gasping cry from Catherine's parted lips.
"Filthy little slut," Bobby growled, pace gradually increasing as renewed arousal built despite their recent powerful releases. "Manipulative little bitch who can't keep her fucking mouth shut even with cock buried inside her."
"You love it," Catherine countered breathlessly, her body responding with remarkable enthusiasm despite potential discomfort from continued penetration so soon after previous orgasms. "Admit it. You love how I see through you."
Instead of responding verbally, Bobby suddenly withdrew completely, leaving her empty and gasping at the unexpected sensation. Before Catherine could protest this abandonment, his hands were turning her roughly, spinning her to face him rather than the wall she'd been pressed against throughout their vigorous coupling.
Without explanation or warning, he lifted her bodily, hands gripping beneath her thighs as he positioned her against the wall once more. Catherine instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, arms circling his shoulders for stability as he aligned their bodies for renewed penetration.
"Show me what that clever mouth can do besides provocation," Bobby challenged, eyes locked with hers as the head of his renewed erection pressed against her entrance from this new position.
Catherine didn't hesitate, leaning forward to capture his mouth in hungry kiss that contained none of the calculated seduction she typically employed at court. This kiss represented raw, animal hunger—lips and tongues battling for dominance as Bobby thrust upward, impaling her completely in single powerful movement that swallowed her resulting cry within their joined mouths.
The new position created entirely different sensations despite their continued connection. The angle allowed deeper penetration, his cock reaching places within her that bordered between pleasure and discomfort with each powerful upward thrust. Catherine's back pressed firmly against the wall, providing stability as Bobby's hands supported her weight with apparent effortlessness despite the physically demanding position.
Their kiss continued throughout this renewed coupling, breaking only when oxygen became absolute necessity rather than mere preference. Even then, they remained close enough that each exhaled breath mingled between them, creating intimate connection beyond mere physical joining of their bodies.
"Fucking perfect," Bobby growled between powerful thrusts that lifted Catherine's entire body with each upward movement. "Taking cock so beautifully. Made for this."
"Yes," Catherine agreed breathlessly, her fingers tangling in his hair with surprising force given her usually calculated movements. "Made for your cock. For you to use however you want. Your perfect little slut."
The explicit encouragement pushed Bobby's renewed arousal higher despite rational awareness that Catherine employed carefully tested provocations rather than genuine emotional response. Yet somehow her calculated manipulations had transcended mere performance, creating authentic connection despite the artificial nature of their initial arrangement.
Their mutual release approached with surprising speed given their recent powerful climaxes. Catherine's internal muscles fluttered around Bobby's invading length with increasing frequency, her breathing becoming more ragged with each powerful thrust that drove him deeper than seemed physically possible given her slender frame.
"Going to come again," she gasped, eyes widening with genuine surprise at her body's continued responsiveness despite potential oversensitivity from previous orgasms. "How are you doing this to me? It shouldn't be possible!"
Bobby didn't bother explaining his preternatural sexual capabilities, focusing instead on maintaining rhythm that would push them both toward mutual completion despite the physically demanding position. His hands shifted slightly beneath her thighs, adjusting angle to ensure maximum stimulation against her most sensitive internal areas with each powerful thrust.
"Come for me," he commanded, voice dropping to dangerous register that rarely emerged during their usual encounters. "Come all over my cock like the perfect little slut you are."
The combined stimulation of his powerful thrusts, commanding tone, and deliberate pressure against her most sensitive spots pushed Catherine rapidly over edge she'd been approaching. Her climax crashed through her with stunning intensity—inner walls clamping around Bobby's invading cock with pulsing contractions that drew appreciative grunt from his throat as her entire body trembled within his supporting grip.
"FUCK! YES! DADDY! TAKING ME!" Catherine's explicit exclamations echoed through the study, her usual calculated composure completely abandoned in face of overwhelming physical pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders with bruising force, nails leaving crescent marks that would have remained visible for days on ordinary human skin.
Bobby's own release followed immediately after hers, triggered by extraordinary tightness of her spasming channel around his sensitive length. With final powerful thrust that pinned her firmly against the wall, he emptied himself inside her trembling body for second time, cock jerking violently as rope after rope of thick seed flooded her most intimate depths with supernatural abundance.
"Taking every drop," he growled, maintaining their connection despite the physically demanding position as his release continued well beyond normal human capacity. "Filling this greedy cunt until it overflows."
Catherine could only whimper in response, words beyond her capacity as dual sensation of his pulsing release and her own continued orgasm overwhelmed her consciousness with pleasure that bordered pain in its intensity. Her entire body trembled within his supporting grip, occasional aftershocks rippling visibly across her flushed skin as they remained joined against the study wall.
Neither spoke for several long moments after their mutual climaxes subsided to manageable levels. Bobby continued supporting her weight with apparent effortlessness despite the extended duration of their coupling and potentially awkward position against the wall. Catherine's head rested against his shoulder, her breathing gradually returning toward normal rhythm as occasional aftershocks continued rippling through her thoroughly satisfied body.
"That was..." she began, then paused, apparently unable to find adequate words despite her usually extensive vocabulary.
"Necessary," Bobby completed for her, voice returning to normal register rather than the dangerous growl that had accompanied their vigorous coupling. "For both of us, apparently."
Catherine laughed softly, the sound containing genuine amusement rather than her usual calculated performance. "Five days proved excessive interval," she agreed, lifting her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze with surprising directness given their intimate position. "Though I admit deliberately provoking more intense response than typically characterizes our encounters."
"Successfully," Bobby acknowledged without resentment, finally allowing her legs to lower until her feet touched the floor once more. "Though manipulating my responses through Jane-related provocations represents dangerous strategy you'd be wise to employ sparingly."
Rather than appearing properly chastened by this warning, Catherine's eyes sparkled with triumphant satisfaction. "Duly noted," she agreed with mock solemnity that barely disguised her evident pleasure at having confirmed the particular effectiveness of that specific trigger. "Though I maintain purely educational interest in varying techniques applied with different partners."
Bobby raised skeptical eyebrow as he carefully withdrew from her thoroughly used body, drawing small gasp from Catherine's lips as his substantial length finally slipped free of her sensitive passage. Evidence of their mutual pleasure immediately followed—thick white fluid flowing from her well-used opening in pearly rivulets down her inner thigh, visible proof of his supernatural capacity despite their dual climaxes.
"God," Catherine murmured, glancing down at the copious evidence of their activities with mixture of awe and satisfaction. "How can there still be so much?"
Bobby's gaze followed hers to the thick rivulets trailing down her inner thighs. Her question echoed those of Frances Howard, the Countess of Bedford, and even Queen Mary herself during past encounters. The repetitive wonder at his inhuman stamina had become tediously predictable.
"Yet you keep asking the same question," he observed dryly, his cock already hardening again despite their vigorous coupling. "As though the answer would somehow change last time and today."
Catherine's eyes widened as she watched his substantial length regain full rigidity. Her lips parted with unconscious hunger, tongue darting out to wet them as she sank to her knees without waiting for instruction.
"Some mysteries defy explanation," she agreed, wrapping her fingers around his shaft with appreciative pressure. "Though this particular mystery proves remarkably... accommodating."
Her tongue traced the underside of his cock from base to tip, gathering the remaining evidence of their recent coupling with shameless enthusiasm. The explicit tasting of their combined essences would have horrified her noble grandfather, yet Catherine performed this intimate act with evident enjoyment rather than mere obligation.
"You taste better mixed with me," she observed between long, deliberate licks that gradually cleaned his length. "Salty-sweet complexity that ordinary men lack."
Bobby's hand tangled in her auburn hair, not directing her movements but establishing dominance through simple contact. Catherine's eyes flickered upward, meeting his gaze as her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his shaft with deliberate precision.
"Do you think the Princess Elizabeth enjoys this particular activity as much as I do?" Catherine asked suddenly, her lips hovering millimeters from his cock head. "Or does the future Queen of England consider herself above such common pleasures?"
The unexpected mention of Elizabeth sent a visible pulse through Bobby's erection. Catherine's eyes widened slightly, noting the reaction with predatory satisfaction.
"Oh my," she whispered, her fingers tightening around his base. "The virgin princess affects you just as powerfully as Lady Jane. How fascinating."
Bobby's expression hardened. "You're treading dangerous ground again, Catherine."
Rather than appearing chastened, she smiled with triumphant satisfaction. "I simply wonder if Her Highness possesses the same... oral talents... as I've developed. Does the future Queen of England know how to properly worship a cock, I wonder?"
Before Bobby could respond, Catherine took the head between her lips, sucking with gentle pressure while maintaining eye contact through her lashes. The sight of her aristocratic features framed around his substantial girth created powerful visual stimulation that drew a soft grunt from his throat despite his irritation at her deliberate provocation.
"I imagine she'd be quite prudish," Catherine continued after releasing him with an audible pop. "All that royal training in restraint and dignity. Does she maintain her composure with your cock down her throat? Or does she become as shameless as I do?"
Bobby's hand tightened in her hair, not painfully but with unmistakable warning. "You've been told about using Jane to provoke me. Elizabeth is equally off-limits for your manipulative games."
Catherine laughed softly, her breath teasing against his sensitive flesh. "My apologies," she murmured insincerely. "Though your reaction certainly confirms my suspicions. The princess has clearly experienced your... substantial gifts... despite her carefully cultivated virgin persona."
Instead of answering directly, Bobby applied pressure, guiding her mouth back toward his cock with unmistakable intention. Catherine complied eagerly, parting her lips to accept several inches with practiced ease that belied her relatively brief experience with this particular activity.
"Less talking," Bobby commanded, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that signaled erosion of his usual controlled demeanor. "More demonstration of those throat muscles you're so proud of developing."
Catherine hummed agreement around his thickness, the vibration creating pleasurable sensation that drew another soft sound from Bobby's throat. Her technique had improved remarkably over the past months—the initial gagging and hesitation replaced by confident movements that demonstrated both natural aptitude and dedicated practice.
Her tongue swirled around his head with deliberate precision, mapping the sensitive ridge beneath with particular attention before taking him deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. One hand maintained steady pressure around his base while the other cupped his balls with gentle appreciation that enhanced the overall sensation of her oral attention.
"Better use of your mouth," Bobby acknowledged, his irritation gradually dissolving beneath the skilled ministrations she performed with such evident enthusiasm.
Catherine's eyes sparkled with satisfaction at this grudging praise despite her inability to respond verbally with her mouth currently occupied. She increased her efforts, taking him progressively deeper until the head of his cock nudged against the back of her throat.
Instead of retreating as she would have weeks ago, Catherine pushed forward, deliberately relaxing her throat muscles to accept his considerable length beyond what seemed physically possible given their relative proportions. The sensation of tight throat muscles contracting around his sensitive head drew a sharper sound from Bobby—a hissed intake of breath that confirmed her technique had achieved desired effect despite his reluctance to provide vocal feedback.
"Fuck," he muttered, hand tightening in her auburn hair as she swallowed around him, throat working in rippling contractions that enhanced the already intense pleasure. "Where did you learn that particular trick?"
Catherine couldn't answer verbally, though her eyes communicated smug satisfaction at having elicited both the profanity and the direct question. She maintained their connection for several more seconds before slowly withdrawing until only the head remained between her lips. After circling it teasingly with her tongue, she released him completely to draw needed breath.
"The Countess of Bedford provided certain educational guidance," she explained, voice slightly hoarse from the throat stretching she'd just performed. "Though she claims I've already surpassed her capabilities despite her extensive experience."
Before Bobby could respond to this revelation about her additional "education" from other Whitehaven visitors, Catherine took him into her mouth again, this time maintaining eye contact with deliberate provocation as she gradually worked him deeper into her throat than before. The visual impact of her aristocratic features distended around his substantial girth, combined with the intense physical sensation of her tight throat contracting around his sensitive head, created powerful effect that threatened Bobby's usually impeccable control.
"Christ," he muttered, both hands now tangled in her hair though still not forcing her movements. "Taking it so fucking deep."
Catherine hummed agreement around his thickness, the vibration adding another dimension to the already intense pleasure. Her watering eyes and flushed cheeks created surprisingly erotic contrast to her otherwise composed demeanor—the physical challenge of accommodating his substantial size clearly evident yet managed with determined enthusiasm rather than reluctant obligation.
When oxygen finally became necessity rather than preference, Catherine slowly withdrew until only the head remained between her lips. After circling it teasingly with her tongue once more, she released him completely, drawing several deep breaths while maintaining her grip around his base.
"Does Elizabeth take you this deep?" she asked with deliberate provocation once her breathing normalized somewhat. "Or does royal dignity prevent proper throat fucking?"
The crude terminology flowing from aristocratic Howard lips created its own peculiar eroticism—the contrast between her refined upbringing and deliberately vulgar language somehow enhancing the overall impact of her provocation. Bobby's cock twitched visibly in her grip, confirming the effectiveness of her Elizabeth-based manipulation despite his previous warning.
"I wonder if Her Highness drops to her royal knees as eagerly as I do," Catherine continued relentlessly, her hand maintaining steady stroking motion along his saliva-slickened length. "Does she beg for your cock with the same enthusiasm? Or must you command the princess to perform such common service?"
Bobby's expression darkened, though his arousal clearly increased despite—or perhaps because of—her deliberate provocations. "Your mouth serves better purpose when filled rather than speaking," he observed, voice dropping to dangerous register that contained both arousal and genuine irritation. "Perhaps demonstration of that fact would prove educational."
Catherine smiled with triumphant satisfaction, recognizing the effect her words had achieved despite his attempted deflection. "Of course, Daddy," she agreed with mock submission that contained none of the genuine deference she occasionally demonstrated. "Fill your daughter's throat with that magnificent cock. Show me how you use the princess when she displeases you."
The explicit continuation of their incestuous roleplay combined with her persistent Elizabeth references finally fractured Bobby's careful restraint. His hands tightened in her hair, controlling her movements with sudden dominance that contrasted his previous allowance for her self-direction.
"Open wider," he commanded, guiding her mouth back to his cock with firm pressure that brooked no resistance. "Since you're so fucking curious about royal treatment, perhaps practical demonstration will satisfy your apparent obsession."
Catherine complied eagerly despite the rougher handling, her lips parting to accept his substantial girth with evident enthusiasm rather than reluctance. This time, Bobby controlled the depth and pace, allowing her minimal adjustment period before pushing deeper into her throat than she had previously accommodated through self-direction.
"This is how you handle manipulative little sluts who can't keep their mouths shut," he growled, establishing measured rhythm that pushed Catherine's gag reflex beyond normal limitations. "Giving them exactly what they're clearly begging for."
Tears leaked from the corners of Catherine's eyes as she struggled to accommodate his controlled invasion, though no genuine distress appeared in her expression—only determined concentration and evident arousal despite the challenging nature of his current approach. Her hands gripped his thighs for stability, fingers digging into muscle with surprising strength as he used her mouth with deliberate intensity that reflected genuine response to her calculated provocations.
"Taking it so fucking well," Bobby acknowledged, pace gradually increasing as Catherine adapted to his substantial intrusion. "Such a perfect cocksucking mouth on this Howard slut."
Catherine hummed agreement around his thickness despite her inability to respond verbally, the vibration adding another dimension to the already intense pleasure. Her watering eyes remained fixed on his face, studying his expressions with scholarly attention despite the physically demanding activity currently occupying her oral capabilities.
"Princess Elizabeth could learn technique from you," Bobby conceded after several minutes of controlled throat fucking that tested Catherine's limits without exceeding them. "Though her royal mouth possesses certain... unique qualities... you haven't yet achieved."
Catherine's eyes widened at this explicit confirmation of her suspicions regarding Bobby's relationship with the princess. The admission that Elizabeth had indeed performed this particular act—and apparently with sufficient skill to merit specific praise—represented significant victory in her ongoing campaign to extract information about Bobby's other relationships.
Before she could withdraw to press this advantage verbally, Bobby's grip tightened further, holding her firmly in place as he continued using her mouth with increasing intensity that suggested approaching climax despite his supernatural control. His pace accelerated, cock pushing deeper with each forward movement until Catherine struggled to maintain proper breathing between thrusts.
"Going to flood this perfect throat," Bobby growled, his rhythm becoming more urgent as pleasure built toward inevitable release. "Fill this manipulative mouth with enough cum to choke a less talented slut."
Catherine moaned around his thickness, the vibration enhancing his pleasure while her hands moved from his thighs to his buttocks, actively pulling him deeper rather than merely stabilizing against his increasing force. This enthusiastic participation despite the challenging nature of his current approach confirmed her genuine enjoyment of their sexual dynamic regardless of the manipulative tactics she consistently employed.
When Bobby's control finally fractured completely, the resulting climax erupted with volcanic intensity—his cock jerking violently against Catherine's tongue as the first pulse of his release hit the back of her throat with force that might have triggered immediate gagging in less experienced partners. The thick fluid filled her mouth rapidly, requiring concentrated swallowing to manage the extraordinary volume that far exceeded normal human production.
"Fuck! Take it all," Bobby commanded, maintaining his grip on her hair as pulse after pulse continued filling her eager mouth. "Every fucking drop."
Catherine struggled valiantly to comply, her throat working in visible contractions as she swallowed repeatedly around his still-releasing cock. Despite her best efforts, the sheer volume eventually overwhelmed her capacity—pearly drops escaping the corners of her mouth to trail down her chin in visible evidence of his supernatural abundance.
Only when the most intense pulses had subsided did Bobby's grip relax slightly, allowing Catherine minimal retreat to catch her breath while continuing to manage the seemingly endless release still flowing across her tongue. Her hand replaced her mouth around his base, stroking with firm pressure to encourage the final drops as she fought to regain control of her breathing.
"Jesus Christ," she gasped once sufficient oxygen returned, her voice hoarse from the throat stretching she'd endured. "How do you produce so much? It's not physically possible."
Rather than answering this frequently repeated question, Bobby gazed down at Catherine's flushed face with unexpected appreciation. The combination of aristocratic features and thoroughly debauched appearance created striking visual—her perfectly arranged auburn hair now disheveled from his grip, her lips swollen from extended oral attention, pearly evidence of his release still trailing from the corners of her mouth despite her determined swallowing.
"You wear my cum well," he observed with blunt appreciation that might have offended less adaptable noblewomen. "It suits your complexion."
Catherine laughed breathlessly, deliberately licking escaped drops from her lips with exaggerated enjoyment that contained equal parts genuine appreciation and calculated performance. "Better than any cosmetic treatment at court," she agreed, voice still rough from her recent activities. "Though hardly suitable for royal presentation despite its evident benefits for the complexion."
Before Bobby could respond to this brazenly improper observation, Catherine continued with remarkable directness given their recent interaction. "You actually have fucked Princess Elizabeth, haven't you? Not merely enjoyed her royal mouth but properly claimed her as you've done with me."
Bobby's expression cooled slightly at this renewed interrogation despite their recently completed activity. "Your persistence becomes tiresome, Catherine."
Rather than appearing discouraged, she smiled with evident satisfaction. "Your non-answer confirms my suspicion. Though..." her head tilted slightly as she studied his expression with unnerving perceptiveness, "...perhaps not completely. You've had her mouth, certainly, based on your earlier comment about its 'unique qualities' compared to mine. But not her maidenhead."
The slight tension in Bobby's jaw confirmed her assessment with surprising accuracy given the limited information available to her. Catherine's ability to read subtle physical cues despite his deliberately controlled demeanor represented perhaps her most dangerous quality—beyond her physical beauty or even her remarkable intellectual capabilities.
"How fascinating," she murmured, rising gracefully from her kneeling position with unexpected dignity given the pearly evidence still decorating her chin and décolletage. "The future Queen of England preserves her technical virtue while still enjoying your substantial gifts in other ways. Quite clever arrangement for maintaining both pleasure and political viability."
Bobby studied Catherine with renewed appreciation despite his irritation at her persistent probing. Her deductive capabilities combined with unhesitating boldness in expressing her conclusions demonstrated intellectual fearlessness that transcended mere physical courage.
"You're remarkably perceptive," he acknowledged finally, tucking himself back into his breeches with casual efficiency. "Though that perception would serve you better applied to matters beyond my personal associations."
Catherine laughed softly, moving to the basin and pitcher positioned discretely in the study's corner. As she dampened a cloth to clean the visible evidence from her face and neck, she glanced over her shoulder with unexpected playfulness. "But your personal associations prove so much more interesting than agricultural yields or manufacturing projections. Particularly given their apparent scope."
She turned fully toward him, cloth still pressed against her chin as a thoughtful expression crossed her features. "I wonder about Queen Mary herself," she mused with deliberate casualness that poorly disguised her intense curiosity. "Has Her Catholic Majesty also experienced your particular talents? Or does her devout faith prevent such indulgences despite your evident contributions to her successful claim?"
Bobby's momentary stillness provided sufficient confirmation despite his lack of verbal response. Catherine's eyes widened with genuine surprise rather than calculated reaction—the first truly spontaneous expression she had displayed throughout their extended interaction.
"My God," she whispered, lowering the cloth as astonishment overtook her calculated demeanor. "You actually bedded the Queen herself? Mary Tudor? The most devoutly Catholic woman in England?"
Bobby maintained neutral expression despite this accurate assessment, neither confirming nor denying her conclusion through verbal clarification. His silence itself provided answer sufficient for Catherine's remarkable perceptiveness.
"Three Tudor women," she marveled, genuine amazement replacing her usual calculated responses. "The Queen, the Princess, and the former Queen. Mary, Elizabeth, and Jane. Each with different arrangements according to their individual circumstances and preferences."
Her analytical mind rapidly processed this extraordinary revelation with surprising objectivity given the personal implications. "Is there anyone of consequence in England you haven't had intimate relationship with?" she asked, the question containing genuine curiosity beneath its provocative formulation.
"I maintain relationships solely with those for whom I feel genuine connection," Bobby responded finally, his voice containing unexpected sincerity despite his evident reluctance to provide direct confirmation of her various theories. "Physical intimacy represents merely one potential expression of that connection rather than arbitrary conquest."
This unexpected statement appeared to affect Catherine more powerfully than anticipated, momentary vulnerability flickering across her usually composed features before calculation resettled. "You're attempting to manipulate my emotional state," she accused, though uncertainty undermined her typically confident assertions. "Using perceived emotional connection to moderate my interrogation."
"Perhaps," Bobby acknowledged with slight smile that revealed nothing. "Though manipulation functions bidirectionally regardless of perceived power disparities between participants."
Catherine's composure faltered momentarily before she rallied with characteristic resilience. "And what precisely do you feel for me, Lord Kestrel? Beyond appreciation for my mathematical aptitude and oral capabilities?"
The direct question created brief silence as Bobby studied her with unexpected intensity that seemed to pierce beyond her carefully constructed exterior. For perhaps the first time since their arrangement began, Catherine appeared genuinely uncertain rather than merely performing vulnerability as calculated tactic.
"You possess extraordinary mind partially concealed beneath deliberately cultivated appearance of frivolous beauty," Bobby observed finally, his assessment containing genuine appreciation rather than mere flattery. "Your perceptiveness regarding human motivation rivals any I've encountered regardless of age or education. Combined with remarkable adaptability and natural sensuality, those qualities create fascinating individual wholly unique despite superficial similarities to others within your extended Howard lineage."
Catherine blinked rapidly, genuine emotion briefly overcoming her usual calculated responses despite her determined self-control. The unexpected acknowledgment of qualities beyond mere physical attributes clearly affected her more powerfully than explicit sexual praise had achieved throughout their previous encounters.
"That's..." she began, then stopped, apparently unable to formulate appropriate response to what appeared genuine compliment rather than manipulative flattery.
"Also," Bobby continued with deliberate lightness that allowed her necessary emotional recovery, "you look particularly beautiful with my cum dripping down your chin onto those magnificent tits."
The crude observation successfully broke tension that had momentarily developed between them. Catherine laughed with genuine amusement rather than calculated response, her hand moving to wipe remaining evidence from her décolletage where several pearly drops had indeed fallen during their recent activities.
"Charming," she observed dryly, though her smile contained authentic warmth rarely displayed during their usual interactions. "Such poetic assessment of my appearance."
"Merely factual observation," Bobby countered with answering smile that contained surprising genuineness despite his typical reserve. "Though perhaps lacking appropriate romantic flourishes preferred by court poets."
Catherine moved closer, her expression shifting back toward deliberate seduction though something more authentic remained visible beneath the calculated surface. "I believe our educational activities remain incomplete for today," she murmured, glancing meaningfully toward his groin where renewed arousal had become evident despite their recent vigorous completion. "Your recovery capabilities continue defying logical explanation regardless of repetitive demonstration."
Bobby's hand reached out, fingers tracing her jawline with unexpected gentleness given their typically robust interactions. "Indeed," he agreed, voice dropping to register that combined authority with genuine desire rather than merely dominant performance. "Though perhaps alternative venue would prove appropriate given the afternoon's advanced hour."
Catherine leaned into his touch with surprising responsiveness given her usually calculated movements. "Your private chambers?" she suggested, eyes meeting his with direct invitation that contained none of her typical manipulative calculation. "I believe certain activities remain unexplored that might benefit from more comfortable accommodation than study furniture permits."
"Indeed," Bobby agreed, his hand moving from her jaw to the nape of her neck with possessive touch that drew visible shiver despite the room's comfortable warmth. "Particularly given your remarkable aptitude for learning new skills with unprecedented rapidity."
Catherine smiled with genuine pleasure at this acknowledgment of her abilities, the expression containing authentic warmth rarely displayed during their usual calculated interactions. "I've always been an exceptional student," she agreed without false modesty, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched despite their clothing remaining mostly intact following their vigorous oral completion. "Particularly with appropriate motivation and...hands-on instruction."
Bobby's arm circled her waist with casual possessiveness that appeared to affect Catherine more powerfully than his explicit sexual attention had achieved minutes earlier. The simple gesture of claimed ownership drew noticeable quickening in her breath despite its comparative innocence following their recently completed activities.
"Then perhaps we should proceed with your advanced education," Bobby suggested, guiding her toward the study door with gentle pressure that brooked no resistance despite its careful application. "After all, mathematical calculations will remain perfectly preserved until tomorrow's continuation."
Catherine moved willingly within his guiding embrace, her body fitting against his side with practiced ease that suggested both physical compatibility and increasing comfort with their evolving relationship beyond mere sexual arrangement. As they stepped into the corridor leading toward Bobby's private chambers, she glanced up with uncharacteristic directness.
"Thank you," she said simply, the words containing none of her typical calculated manipulation or deliberate provocation.
Bobby raised questioning eyebrow at this unexpected expression of apparent gratitude. "For what precisely?"
Catherine considered briefly before answering with surprising candor given her typically calculated responses. "For seeing me," she replied finally. "Not merely Howard property or aristocratic ornament or potential political advantage. But actually seeing me beneath those externally imposed definitions."
The simple statement, delivered without strategic calculation or obvious manipulation, created momentary stillness between them as they paused in the empty corridor. Bobby studied Catherine's upturned face with unusual intensity, noting the genuine vulnerability briefly visible beneath her typically composed exterior.
"You're worth seeing," he responded finally, the simple acknowledgment containing none of his usual cryptic misdirection or deliberately maintained emotional distance. "Beyond Howard connections or mathematical aptitude or even exceptional physical responsiveness."
Catherine's breath caught audibly at this direct assessment, her usual composure briefly cracking to reveal genuine emotion rarely displayed throughout their complex arrangement. For that single unguarded moment, the youthful woman beneath her carefully cultivated persona became visible—uncertain yet determined, vulnerable yet remarkably resilient in ways that transcended mere aristocratic training or Howard bloodline.
Before she could formulate verbal response to this unexpectedly sincere exchange, Bobby's demeanor shifted back toward their more typical dynamic—his hand sliding lower to cup her posterior with deliberately possessive touch that effectively redirected their interaction toward familiar territory.
"Now," he continued, voice dropping to register that combined authority with explicit intention, "let's proceed with demonstrating precisely how many ways I can make you scream my name before dinner requires your eventual reappearance in civilized company."
Catherine's momentary vulnerability dissolved beneath renewed arousal, her body responding instinctively to his explicit promise despite their recently completed activities.
"Yes, Daddy," she agreed with deliberate provocation that reestablished their usual dynamic despite the briefly genuine connection they had momentarily shared. "Show your eager little girl exactly how many ways she can please you."