by N. J Ross
Contents
Title Page
TEASER
Copyright
PART ONE THE DUKE'S DARK SECRET
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
PART TWO HIS DARK MEDICINE
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART THREE BOUND BY THE WHITE DUKE
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
MORE HISTORICAL EROTICA
EXTRACT FROM POSSESSED BY THE WHITE BARON
DARK DESIRES
A BOX SET
N.J Ross
Copyright © 2016 N.J Ross. All rights reserved.
Logo Image © photochatree, Bigstockphoto.com.
Cover Image © Paulmhill, Depositphotos; Rmancephotos, Bigstockphoto.com.
FROM THE DUKE’S DARK SECRET
‘Oh my goodness. You look ravishing, my dear. Utterly exquisite. Even better than I had expected, after seeing you last night.’
His brown eyes seemed like two black pools, drinking me in, pulling me towards them as if by some dark magic. He couldn’t keep his eyes off my breasts, off the dark nipples, showing through the fabric. ‘Now, you do understand why you are here, don’t you, Wanda?’ he asked, looking down at me, his breath heavy and lustful.
‘No, sir,’ I said, shaking my head, considering asking him to let me go, as my wrist was hurting me.
‘My wife..’ began the Duke, pushing me backwards a little, causing me to almost stumble to the floor, but luckily a tree directly behind me propped me up, and the Duke pushed me hard against it. ‘My wife, the Duchess,’ he said, ‘she is a good woman, but, alas, she is not a beautiful woman.’
He looked down at me, and I suddenly felt as though I were some kind of saucy bride to him, in this flimsy white dress.
‘When I am with the Duchess,’ said the Duke, his gaze becoming cloudy all of a sudden, ‘I cannot…’ Was that embarrassment on his face? ‘I cannot… give her my seed.’
‘Why, my Lord?’ I whispered, as he pushed my arms round behind the trunk of the tree, and took something out of his pockets. Suddenly, I felt the clasp of iron behind me.
‘I cannot manage to…’ said the Duke, stroking the black hair away from my clavicle, taking a step away from me to take me in, chained to the tree like his prisoner. ‘In order to spill my seed,’ said the Duke, more firmly now, less awkwardly, and with more of an animal look in my eyes, ‘I need two things.’
He began to remove his jacket, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on me. ‘First of all, I need a beautiful woman,’ he said, hanging his jacket on a nearby branch. I noticed how muscular his arms looked in his shirt, and wondered what it might feel to have a chest like his pressed against me. I also wondered if this muscular brute might be about to kill me, here in his enormous gardens, where nobody would hear my cries.
‘What’s the second thing you need, sir?’ I asked, my breath catching fearfully at the back of my throat.
‘The second thing I need,’ said the Duke, unbuttoning his shirt, and looking towards the manor, ‘is danger.’
‘Danger,’ I echoed quietly, trembling at the fate I was sure that awaited me at any moment.
‘Sadly,’ he continued, freeing his almighty, muscular chest from his shirt, and throwing the shirt to the floor, ‘sadly my wife can give me neither.’ He reached out towards me, stroking the dress up my thigh, his coarse, manly hands working their way up my inner thighs, closer and closer to my still glistening sex.
‘My wife is not beautiful,’ said the Duke, leaning down and kissing me gently on the cheeks, and, whispering in my ear, he added: ‘not like you.’ He was so close to me I could smell him, the animal lust of him. He smelt so much muskier and more powerful than any stable boy I had ever stood close to. Beside, the only thing the stable boys had ever smelt of was manure, and the Duke smelt of something else. He smelt of pure… sex. ‘You are the most exotic creature I have ever seen,’ he whispered. ‘You make me hard in an instant.’ He reached down to his crotch, appearing to grab himself, then shook his head, and returned his attention to me.
FROM HIS DARK MEDICINE
I tentatively made my way to the couch in the corner of the room, and lay down on it. The Doctor made his way over to me, and stood over me.
‘Now, your husband sent me a message very early this morning, telling me exactly what it is that happened last night.’ I looked up at him, hoping for any sort of glimmer of kindness. Of course, there was none. ‘I’m going to examine you physically, to see if there is any obvious reason why you seem to be a deviant, and if not, I’m afraid there will be corporal punishment to correct the mental malady.’ He paused. ‘This is a common problem I have with black women, you know,’ he said. ‘Getting ideas above their station. They need to be disciplined severely.’
I swallowed.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘time to begin the examination.
Without so much as a moment’s notice, he took a large pair of surgical scissors, and, with a hand on my smooth, round stomach, hooked the end of the implement underneath the fabric of my dress around my bust. With a strong, confident stroke, he sliced my clothes right down the middle, letting my large, black breasts splay out on my chest, and exposing my undergarments to the air. He looked down at me for a while. ‘Goodness,’ he said. ‘You really are a full figure of a woman, aren’t you?’ He pulled my clothes away and threw them into a bin at the side of the room.
‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘the areolae seem perfectly formed…’ He grabbed hold of my breast with his hand, squeezing the flesh lightly before pinch my left nipple so much that it was sore.
‘Ouch!’ I said. ‘Doctor, is this really necessary? There’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that!’ he said. He pulled up straps from underneath the surface of the table, and within a minute, he’d strapped my hands and feet down in place. Then, another large strap came from underneath, and secured my torso. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we’re going to need to remove this underwear.’ I tried to move a little in the constraints, but found that they held me tight. I felt so wonderfully at the doctor’s mercy, so trusting of his powerful strength, that to be honest, I wanted to be nowhere else but strapped to this table, ready to be probed. A familiar thrum of erotic lust coursed through my body, and as the strong doctor parted my legs and sliced off my underwear, I groaned with pleasure.
‘I see that like all deviants, you enjoy having your full, black body ogled by white men.’
No! I wanted to cry out. Not all white men! Just you!
‘Unfortunately,’ snapped the Baron, ‘she has made a grave error tonight. She’s come into a part of the house she’s not meant to be in. She has disobeyed the rules! And little girls who disobey the rules and come into parts of the house which they shouldn’t come into get punished, don’t they? That’s right Harmony, it’s time for you to get what’s coming to you, young lady. Come with me.’
FROM BOUND BY THE WHITE DUKE
He sat again at his chair leaning back, the master of his domain. I felt so vulnerable like this, and the feeling of being strapped to a white man’s bed, in his home, as he watched me struggle, fair brought juice to the place betwe
en my legs. Why I felt so aroused, I do not know! The thought of being bound by a white man had never turned me on before… in fact, it had always made me mad with rage!
I was bent forward by my straps, so that my arse poked out behind me, and I was strapped high to the bedposts in front of me by my hands. He could do anything he wanted with me. No one knew I was here, and it felt to me for a moment that I had crossed into some other, wild world, with just the wolves and this monster for company. And I found that I liked the way it felt, and I liked the way this monster looked at me, his black rose.
‘Do you not recognise me,’ said the man, giving me an odd look, turning his head slightly to the side so that I could see his profile. That’s when it hit me. I did know his face. It was the nose. From this new angle he presented to me, there was something extremely distinct about it, something which I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
‘No my lord, I’m afraid that I don’t…’ I said, still wriggling slightly in my bonds.
‘Well never mind. It hardly matters whether or not you know who I am for what I’m about to do with you,’ he said. I felt sure now that I could see something growing under his trousers. It was thick and long and desperate to get out . If only I could turn my head a little more, I’d be able to see it fully…
‘So how long do you plan to keep me trussed up for like this, like a common criminal?’ I said, trying to show a little defiance in the face of this man’s authority.
‘I’m not quite sure, you see, when I initially bound you, I’d not really worked out what my plan would be. At first I was merely thinking of tying you up then ravishing you on that bed.’ I felt a rush of blood to both my face, and to the little space between my legs which I sometimes touched when I was alone. No man had ever seen that space, let alone ravished it. My mother had warned me away from boys, particularly the white boys from the fort.
‘Ravish me?’ I said, panting now, terrified and aflame with desire.
This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the copyright holder. This story contains explicit content that is intended for adult audiences only. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.
PART ONE
THE DUKE'S DARK SECRET
Chapter 1
I suppose, when I was younger, that I always dreamt that I would grow up, find my handsome prince, and marry him to become a rich princess in some wonderful castle somewhere, happily ever after… I mean, how predictable! I imagine that many little girls have had the same dream as me, and like me, most of us do not get it.
Now that I am older, and - I hope - a little wiser, I have realised how utterly tiresome that dream was, anyway. For one thing, handsome princes do not exist. Not like in the fairytales, anyway. And for another thing, even if they did exist, they would most likely be incredibly boring.
But even more important than all that stuff, is this: girls like me do not end up with handsome English princes. My name is Wanda Sarr, and I am a nineteen-year-old girl of African descent. My parents came to England just before I was born, and we had a good life over here, until my poor parents passed away. I am under no pretensions, however, regarding the colour of my skin. I am aware of how ‘foreign’ I look next to the genteel white men and women of Victorian England, and how strange and even unattractive they find me. Or at least, that used to be the case… until I found someone who loves me precisely for who I am… and who loves the colour of my skin…
I was only eighteen when this story began. After my parents (God bless their souls!) departed from this world, I worked for an elderly, blind woman in the city of London. She never knew that I was black, and I never told her, for fear that she might dismiss me. I had scrubbed her floors and bathed her old, gnarled body, which was certainly no fairytale, let me tell you! Nonetheless, when she died, and I was sold to the Duke of Penzance, I was filled with grief. Although I had no remaining family in London, it was the place I was born. It contained all my memories. It was all I had ever known. In fact, I had never travelled further than a two-mile radius of the Thames! When I was informed that I would be moving to the the south-western tip of England, to live in a country estate, I was aghast with terrible images of what life in the middle of nowhere would be like.
I’d heard that in the countryside men behaved more like animals. They lacked the refined nature of men of the city, and their feral urges came out. To make matters worse, I was told that the Duke of Penzance was the most feral man of all. I’d heard whispered rumours of his perversions, that he’d had a hundred wives, that he took his women out in the fields, on all fours, like they were his horses. I had heard he had an insatiable hunger… that no sooner had he taken one woman for himself, he liked to take another.
Needless to say, as I, and two other servant girls, were taken away from the confines of our simple lives in London, I felt nothing but dread about the new life that awaited me in Penzance.
*
When the bumpy carriage suddenly ground to a halt, I awoke with a start. The journey had lasted for days, or so it seemed, and the hour was late. I stuck my head out of the carriage window, and saw the sky awash with stars. I could not see a single sign of human life outside the carriage; not one window alight with a warm, welcoming fire. Where were we? Where had we been taken? I looked at Josie and Sarah, the other two servant girls in the carriage with me, but they were still fast asleep.
That’s when I heard the crunch of gravel coming from somewhere nearby, and then I saw the glow of a lantern.
I swallowed, awaiting whatever terrible fate was about to meet me.
And that’s when I heard his voice.
‘Come out of the carriage, my dear.’
It was a wonderful voice: deep, strong and kind. I looked out of the carriage window and saw his face in the light of the lantern. He must have been about six foot tall, with dark hair, coarse, black, stubble on his cheeks, and angular features. He looked wealthy and powerful, and ten times more robust and healthy than any man I had ever seen dwelling in the city of London. Perhaps the country air was good for a man, after all!
‘Sir,’ I said, stepping out of the carriage, trembling with nerves, desperate to make a good impression in front of my new Master. I curtseyed. ‘My name is Wanda, and it is a pleasure to meet you, sir.’
The man smiled. ‘I know who you are, my dear,’ he said, and he turned away from me. He began walking down a gravel path, and I followed him close behind.
‘What about the others, sir?’ I asked. ‘Sarah and Josie are asleep in the carriage.’
‘There’s no need to wake them,’ said the Duke. ‘They seem comfortable where they are for now. Let’s you and I get to know one another first, shall we?’
And then he turned a corner, behind some branches of a tree, and that’s when I saw it: the biggest manor house I had ever seen in all my life.
Chapter 2
‘There it is,’ said my new Master, the Duke of Penzance, holding back a branch so that I could see it in all its glory. ‘That is your new home, Wanda,’ said the Duke. ‘What do you think?’
I nodded dumbly, shocked and almost fearful, seeing the power my new Master must have, to have a house so big. I must confess that I also felt rather afraid standing on a path in what felt like a thicket of bushes, in the pitch black, with a man I barely knew, but must dutifully serve from now on... Why wasn’t he leading me forwards? Why had he chosen to stop here, in the darkness, among the trees?
‘Wanda,’ said the Duke quietly, his commanding voice soft and low, gentle even. Do you know that I chose you specially to serve for me? The other girls in the carriage, Sarah and Josie, they are to work in the kitchens, but you…’ he turned to me, and pulled a strand of hair away from my face, letting it fall to my shoulders. ‘You are to serve me personally.’
‘You chose me?’ I whispered, echoing his words, wondering what he could possibly mean.
‘I visited Lo
ndon on several occasions, taking my pick of the servant girls of the city,’ he said simply. ‘I have watched you blossoming over the last few years. I have seen you, though I am sure you have never once seen me.’
I had no idea what my new Master was talking about. Watching me? Why would he have been watching me? And what difference did it make to him who his servant girls were? As long as they were quiet and obedient… what more did he want from me?
‘You are remarkable close-up,’ said the Duke, holding the lantern close to my face. I could feel him taking me in, my long sleek black hair, my dark eyes, my dark brown skin. I had never been fortunate enough in life to have been in a position to question my own beauty. I knew I was not ugly, but, as I have said, since I was not white, I had never been ‘English-looking’ enough to attract the interest of any young men, except of course the black stable boys. I had seen the way one or two stable boys looked at me. I had even awoken once, in the middle of the night, back in my previous home, to find a shadowy figure at the window. I could hear his breath, and I could hear the soft sound of flesh, and the tapping against the window, as whoever stood there performed terrible, unspoken acts on themselves, while they watched me lying in bed in my chamber… But I had never really known what it meant to be watched like that… Was I beautiful? In spite of my blackness? …Because of it?!