A Ride for Lady Ilsa

“Hello again good sir, thank you for stopping a moment to wait for me.” 

Mister Thomas DeLane had stopped half way up into his carriage, a simple yet splendidly comfortable covered and private coach that, when his footman who was also his driver stopped assisting him in mid action. It took a moment for the gentleman to realize what had stopped his driver, but when he saw her he understood. “I would have the briefest word with you if you would humor me.” 

“Certainly you recall my name is Lady Ilsa Mezmia and I’ve found myself very out of sorts.” Her skin was fair, her hair was gold and ended in ringlets below her shoulders, and her red lips pursed in contemplation as she looked into Thomas’s eyes, locking his gaze in her deep brown eyes. “ As I told you before, misfortune has stranded me in this township and if by chance you are returning to the city…”

Her dress was pink, frilled, low cut, and revealed much of her buxom form, and it was both a gown fair to look upon and made of fine fabric. It was not respectable though, and…

“Madam Mezmia, I believe I have heard the name, but I don’t believe we have ever spoken. I would certainly aid you, despite your presumed familiarity with me, but I am to my estates and not…” 

She carried a cloth bag, a small purse of sorts that hung from her fingers and she lifted her hand up towards her listed and pressed together cleavage, causing the bag to start to sway. “Surely, you must be having a jape good Mister DeLane. Is there no way you could shelter me this eve, regardless of your forgetting our recent conversations? I’ve no coins left to me, and I would not trade what fair items on my person I have for a night here and a lacking journey in the morning. All this you know, all this you have heard before. Don’t be coy, and don’t fear your reputation or mine. Help me as you said you would.”

Thomas felt himself becoming awkward in the street, his footman staring blankly at the beautiful Madam Mezmia, his eyes fixed on her bosom and distracted by the motion of her bag, one that seemed to be decorated with small flashing adornments that caught the light in sparkles of crystal.

Her appearance and her manner such that it was, respectful but far too forthcoming, would draw the wrong eyes and in turn the wrong words.

But her words were strong, clear, and musical, “Could we, perhaps discuss this within your carriage? And could not your driver take me to the city after he drives you to your estates? We are both kindred spirits, both cut from the safe cloth, and I know your driver would not mind, would you?”

Thomas looked to his driver as he said, “No Ma’am.”

His voice was flat, his eyes were glassy, and he seemed caught in some reverie of distraction.

“You are truly kind, what is your name driver?” The fading light of the day and the flames from the lamps that light the street for the coming dark seemed to dance off her bag. The pattern on it seemed to be a flower, and Thomas saw clearly for a moment as the bag hung still from her ringers that the fabric was smooth, silk perhaps.

“Jones, ma’am.” He smiled wide at the beautiful young woman and Thomas wondered if his driver had caddish intentions for this beautiful woman who had so boldly beset them for aid.”

“Jones, you are a delight, Would you help me into your master’s coach,” she stepped between Thomas and the door and took his place in the entry with such confidence that he was left stammering out objections. Jones merely nodded to her and helped her inside.

Once she was out of sight, Jones seemed to regain his composure, “I’m sorry sir, I…”

“Nonsense Jones my good man, we should help a woman of her station, now would you…” Thomas was of an age with this Ilsa woman and was certain he had seen her before, but could not recall speaking to her this day. In fact he knew he must have seen her, but how could he ever forget speaking to a vision such as her. Still, there was a haunting familiarity to her, and a charm that radiated out from her that would of course beguile a commoner like Jones.

“Why of course sir,” and as Jones helped him into the coach, he knew the reason the door did not close immediately behind them was his footman’s desire to catch one more longing glance of the beautiful woman in their company.

“He’s quite easily charmed,” Ilsa sat across from him and reached into her bag as Thomas took his seat and the wheels started to roll, “isn’t he?”

“Well you’re quite the charming woman. You couldn’t expect him to deny someone as elegant and compelling as you my Lady Ilsa. Now,” he watched as she drew a golden pocket watch out of her bag, “what is this? That’s a fine specimen but hardly fit for a lady.”

She smiled, “Well I am a lady as you find yourself noticing the more and more you stare at my bosom now, and I find this watch fits my needs quite well. And yes, I am charming, some would say I am cursed to be irresistibly and utterly spellbinding to some, while others…”

Thomas stared, suddenly rapt by the sight of her cleavage in the gently rolling carriage. Lit only from the fading light outside, light that gleamed in its small radiance off her pocket watch. The carriage was full of shadows that clung around them and her watch swung in a small arc before her breasts. As it swung to and fro he felt a need to simply watch it.

Her aura was such that it engulfed him, and though she sat across from him and though the vehicle was prone to a bump and a jumble on the road, all felt smooth, smooth as her pale skin.

“Yes, others, such as well bred men of class and distinction such as yourself, hardly blunder into my sway and my charm as easily and suddenly as a mere servant. But you see, as you will try to attempt in just a moment, your eyes are already bound to my continence and my visage. Your eyes are already enthralled by the golden sparkle of my pocket watch as it swings back and forth and to and fro. Back and forth, yes, to and fro. You see it, you feel it, and when you try to look away and cannot, you will find even your tongue has betrayed you into speaking my words, back and forth, to and fro.”

Thomas DeLane, the strapping young patriarch of the DeLane family, as tough as any gentleman, and as strong of will and of body as any student of the manly sports, who was neither dim nor ardently vain, rose to the test. This mysterious woman of his own age, but whose gravity seemed to defy the limits of his own not inconsiderable experiences had challenged him to do one simple thing, then commanded him to do another.

The sigh of her pale, creamy bosom in the shadows of the carriage was a wonderful sight, and there was something compelling and enchanting about her pocket watch swinging back and forth, to and fro, but…

As his eyes failed to break from the rise and fall of her breasts, pushed together and lifted by her dress, instead following the watch as it swung in front of that lovely sight, his mouth began to move of a will that was not his own.

“Back and forth, to and fro.”

The words were cautious at first, spoken softly, and unevenly.

“Back and forth,” he could not stop himself, the dam had given way “to and fro.”

He watched the watch as Ilsa sat in silence and continued to wave it in front of her breasts.

“Back and forth, to and fro. Back and forth, to and fro. Back and forth, to and fro. Back and forth, to and fro. Back and forth, to and fro.”

He stared at the sight of her breasts, chanting the words in time with the pocket watch until it slowly came to a stop, “Sleep.”

His eyes closed and his head slumped down. The carriage rolled on, and as he felt himself sinking into the darkness, losing the sense of his mind and his world first at the edges, and then closer and closer to himself. 

The carriage hit a bump and he was jostled out of his reverie.

“You!”

His eyes opened and he shot upright, or near to upright in the carriage, “I’ve met you! I saw you earlier this very day! You were…”

One of Ilsa’s hands squeezed her breast and as she did so, she started to swing her pocked watch again, “But you don’t remember before. You don’t remember what you were even doing. You are forgetting so much of today, so much of everything. But don’t you remember…”

He was falling… down… back into his seat… and down into himself… his mind was slowing… like walking through deep mud… sinking into quicksand… 

“I will think better of you when next we meet, and every time after…” He said the words in a dream.

“And I hold one of your family’s rings in my bag, holding your word and your voice… holding a piece of you. But you’re a resilient one. You gave me something more meaningful than your driver, and yet, you struggle so much more than him…”

Ilsa’s voice was pulling him under, but his memories persisted.

He saw her speaking to his footman, he watched her touch his face, and he watched the tall, broad shouldered man that went with him at all times slump down against the wall he was standing by. Thomas had seen the end of whatever had occurred between the two of them, he had seen the woman show his man the intricate design on her small bag.

He approached them after his man handed her a handkerchief, his eyes half lidded, then…

“I can’t remember…” The watch swung back and forth, to and fro, “back and forth, to and fro…”

“Yes Thomas, that’s right, your eyes belong to me, your voice speaks my words,” she continued massaging her breast over her dress as she swung the watch as Thomas slummed deeper into himself, into his body. “You were both supposed to wait for me, only he recalled rightly, and you… well, a strong symbol is needed for you.”

“Back and…” Thomas blinked and felt… “mesmerism. You’re using mesmerism on us. How…”

“Shhhhhhh,” Lady Ilsa stopped waving the watch and moved from her bench across to his, and with more strength than he expected, she grabbed him by the neck with one hand and pushed him back into the corner, “look deep into my eyes and be silent now.”

In the dim light her eyes sparkled with the same golden gleam as her pocket watch. “Your mind is very strong, your will is very strong, but you are fighting yourself, you are not resisting me. You want to surrender, it is your way. You need to submit, it is your natural inclination. Mesmerism, yes, that is what I am doing, and you are already beguiled by its power, but simply not enough. As you stare, unable to look away, unable to remember what you have forgotten, forgetting what you remember, there is only my eyes.”

She lowered her pocked watch down into her cleavage as she held him by the throat and forced him to stare into her eyes. Then, she put her hand between his legs and started to massage him over his trousers.

“Look deeper now, look deeper into my eyes. See the way they catch the fading light, see the way they catch your fading thoughts. Feel yourself being pulled into me, deeper into me. Feel yourself falling now, feel yourself entangled deeper into my eyes as the word fades, as your thoughts fade. There is only my eyes. Release yourself into my eyes. Release your will, find yourself held, and as before, you are unable to look away, and when you try your voice will speak my words, “Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes. “

Thomas tried to break from her stare. He hoped that another bump in the road would free him as it had before. He tried to make his arms work, to break from her grip, but the confident, firm hold she had on his throat was not threatening, nor was it violent, it was an act of intimacy as much as her ministrations to his cock.

She was practically on top of him now, pressed into him, close to him, her warm body filling his space, and her brown eyes, golden in the dying light, beguiled him. He had seen demonstrations of mesmerism and animal attraction before, but had never been a party to them.

He had seen the strange effects that came from them, and even now realized he had experienced some of them himself. 

“Only…” the more he struggled to look away, the warmer and deeper her eyes became. “La… la… Lady…” the more he tried to look away, the more pleasure he felt from her touch… “Ilsa’s…”

He whimpered as she pulled her hand from between his legs, “That’s right Thomas, speak my words and obey.”

“Eyes.”

He was in sexual agony, he was on the verge of explosion, and his mouth moved of its own volition again, begging again, pleading with her as he said, “Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.”

“Oh you poor thing, if only you had bowed and obeyed like a good boy. When I enthrall one such as you, I take a token of you that represents a piece of your mind and place it into my bag. The more I take, the more meaningful your surrender is, but I didn’t take enough from you, because obviously you are not as well heeled as I thought. So…”

Still holding his neck, with her other hand she set to work on his trousers, and in no time his cock was up in the air. She let go of his neck, eased his legs apart, then took to the uncomfortable position of kneel between his legs on the floor of the carriage.

He offered up what was intended as a protest, but only managed to do as he was bid, saying “Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.”

And as he stared into her eyes, he watched her pull the pocket watch out from her cleavage, and from that angle he saw quite a lot of it. He stared, rapt yet again, and watched as the pocket watch swung in circles around his cock, all framed by the sight of those squeezed and lifted breasts.

“What are you looking at Thomas?” Ilsa put one hand on his thigh and he felt her eyes on him, looking into his eyes, but the pull of the watch orbiting his cock kept him from looking up, but still he answered, “Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.”

“But you’re not looking into my eyes are you?” The rotation of the watch around and round was an almost physical sensation, It created a feeling of imagined friction and touch, and every circle felt like a stroke of his cock.

“Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.” The words made him feel good. They were the distant words of someone else, they weren’t his voice, but as unnerving as it was, and as overwhelming and disconcerting as everything was, every time he said her words, he felt a sense of relief.

“Good, you’re where you need to be. Watch the watch again, and sink down into my mesmerizing control now.” She moved her hand from his thigh to his cock, and lowered the watch back down into her cleavage yet again. As it disappeared, he wanted to close his eyes, but as the golden watch dipped down, she also said, “Where are staring,” as she slid her lips around his cock.

Her eyes looked up into his and he stare down into hers as he said, “Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.”

She gave him a long bobbing suck before sliding her lips off him and starting to stroke him. “Good boy. When I take a prize from one of my mesmerized subjects and put it in my bag, I claim a piece of them forever. I took a piece of you, and that’s why you’re so prone to submitting to me, but there’s so much more of you, and so much more to you that I need to take something else. Even holding a piece of your family legacy isn’t enough to bend you completely to my will, and my bag simply cannot hold the part of you I see I must claim to claim your body, mind, and soul.”

These words seemed absurd, but there was nothing absurd about his inability to speak past repeating what she told him to. And there was nothing absurd about her gently taking his cock in her mouth again, never breaking eye contact with him as he did. With one hand at the base of his cock, and the other gently massaging his balls, she sucked him up and down slowly, then so vigorously that his climax came too suddenly for him to comprehend it.

Her brown eyes, which did seem gold in the dim light, shined as she swallowed him. With ease and grace she slid her lips off him and smiled at him as his eyes fluttered and started to close.

Ilsa gave his softening cock a firm tug that made his whole body spasm with overstimulation. “Not so fast Thomas. You’re still too intractable and I haven’t taken nearly enough of you to make you properly my property. Isn’t that right?”

“Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.”

He whimpered the words as she kept stroking him, torturing him with his own raw, pleasure soaked nerves. “Let us see how much I can take from you before you break. After all, you must be pliable and obedient, and you must love me and regard me as your fiancé by the time we reach your estate, mustn’t we?”

“Only Lady Ilsa’s eyes.” The words were an agonized grunt as he tried to beg for mercy, and he could see in her eyes that she knew it. Her answer to his pleas was a long, sucking kiss that swallowed his re-hardened cock from base to tip.