by Lucy Wild
“I…I only wanted some attention.”
“Attention you want, is it? Well you will soon have all the attention you could desire and much more.”
Rose gasped as he bent her over the kitchen table, yanking her dress roughly up to expose her knickers. He tore them from her, tossing them away. “You don’t deserve them,” he snapped, bringing his hand down on her posterior harder than she was expecting.
“Ouch,” she cried out, smiling inwardly as she did so. At least he was paying her some attention at last.
She pushed her rear towards him, wriggling it coquettishly as he continued to spank her. Her smile faded as his blows grew stronger, countless smacks hitting her bottom so hard she began to sob. “Please,” she said, reaching behind her with her hands. “That’s enough.”
“I will tell you when you’ve had enough,” Papa replied, batting her hands away. “You brought this on yourself, remember that.”
By the time he was finished, her legs were shaking, tears running down her cheeks. “Stand up,” he snapped, stepping back with his arms folded. Slowly, she turned to face him, hoping to see some compassion in his eyes. She saw only coldness.
“Strip,” he said. The single word dripped with venom.
Rose pulled up her dress, lifting it up over her head. She did not remove her petticoats fast enough and he cursed at her, grabbing at them with his rough hands, ripping her clothes from her, rending the fabric as she gasped at his anger, his animal rage making her wonder if she knew him at all.
“Go over to the window.”
She did as he asked, looking out at the street through the glass, people strolling by in the summer sun.
“Press your chest to the glass.”
“Please, don’t make me do this.”
“You wanted attention, didn’t you? You are about to get plenty. Now press your chest to the glass or I will spank you so hard you will not be able to sit down.”
Rose looked at him. He was not bluffing. His expression dared her to defy him. Slowly she moved up to the glass, pressing her breasts to it, feeling the coldness on her nipples. She could see clearly everyone who walked past. So far none of them were looking her way, thank Heaven for small favours.
“Remain there whilst I finish with the paper. If you move, it will be the worse for you.”
Rose heard him go. Part of her was desperate to move away, knowing that someone would see her soon. But she knew she could not do it. Even in his anger, she still loved him. She knew he was doing this for a reason, to prove he owned her, that she was his. She had given him her love, her heart. He had taken it gladly and now he was demonstrating his love through his power.
When a passing elderly man happened to look her way, she held her breath. He wore spectacles. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to see her. But when he paused and grinned, staring directly at her chest, she knew there could be no doubt. He was looking at her naked breasts, squashed as they were against the glass.
His eyes burned into her and they were soon joined by others, each passer-by wondering what was causing people to stop and stare. No one remained in place for too long, though some pointed and others called out to her. One man seemed to stop and think, taking a few steps towards her before changing his mind and walking on. A group of women scowled at her as they went by and Rose could only look apologetically back at them.
Half an hour passed and still Papa did not return. She could hear his newspaper rustling, a sign that he was still busy. She felt increasingly sorry for him. He was only trying to raise funds so that he could look after her. How had she repaid him? By breaking one of his plates.
Someone shouted outside and Rose closed her eyes, unable to look out at the humiliating crowds that were openly calling to her, inviting her to indulge in the most obscene acts. Please let me move, she thought, screaming the words in her head. Please do not make me stay here any longer.
It was another ten minutes before he returned. When he walked in, he did so with such a gentle step that Rose only knew he was there when his hand descended on her shoulder. “You can move away from the window,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him. “Was that enough attention for you?”
“I am sorry, Papa,” she said, pressing her face to his chest. “Forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you. You have taken your punishment like a good little Rose, you need fear me no more. In fact, I have just scraped together the last of my funds and we are going to have a night out.”
“Can we afford it?”
“Not really but do not let that worry you. I shall find work tomorrow; I am sure of it. For tonight, I will give you all the attention you desire.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the theatre. Have you ever been?”
“Never. Mother thought it was not an appropriate place for a lady.”
“What about you, what do you think?”
“I think it is a wonderful idea.”
“Good. I have something special for you to wear whilst you are there.”
“You do. What is it?”
“This.” He held out the plug, Rose’s eyes widening as she realised what he was holding. “You want me to wear that to the theatre?”
“Not just this, you can wear a dress as well if you wish.”
Rose reached up and kissed him. “If you told me to, I would wear nothing but the plug.”
“I have no doubt you would. But we don’t want to pay for the tickets and then get thrown out before we even see the show now, do we?”
Chapter 29
Rose looked out at the stage from the box, able to see only half of it from her position. “It’s funny,” she whispered to Papa. “I always thought the boxes would give the best view.”
Papa turned to face her. “You don’t need to whisper; the show hasn’t started yet.”
They had arrived at the theatre a little after seven, Rose barely able to concentrate as the heavy plug in her posterior kept reminding her of its presence. She had anticipated a long wait in the queue outside but instead Titus had been ushered inside by a smiling gentleman in a frock coat. “Wonderful to see you again, Mr. Burlingham. It’s been too long.”
“That it has, Geoffrey. This is my companion for the evening, Rose Winter, this is a good friend of mine, Geoffrey Lancaster.”
“Oh, he is too kind. Delighted to meet you, Miss Winter. Would you like drinks brought to you as usual?”
“Yes, please, Geoffrey. Is the Lafitte up to scratch at the moment?”
“Of course. I will bring you a bottle at once.”
“Excellent. I’ll take her up, you look like you’ve got a busy night ahead of you.”
“As you wish,” Geoffrey said, bowing with a flourish.
“Good evening, Mr. Burlingham,” an usher said as they passed him on the way to the stairs.
“Evening, Malcolm, Gerty feeling better?”
“She is now, thank you, Mr. Burlingham.”
“Good to hear it.”
Titus greeted each member of staff as they made their way up the stairs. “How do you know everyone?” Rose asked as they reached the door into the auditorium.
“The theatre’s my guilty pleasure. Especially as my father paid for a box when this place was first built.”
“You have a box?”
“Indeed I do. How else do you expect me to fuck you without anyone seeing?”
Rose blushed, looking frantically around her to see if anyone had heard. Titus laughed, taking her hand and leading her up a narrow flight of stairs to a locked door. He pulled out a key and unlocked it, motioning for her to go inside. She stepped into a curtained box containing two antique chairs. Pulling back the curtain, she looked out at the stage and the auditorium, the seats below already starting to fill up with people.
The wine arrived a few minutes later, just as Rose was settling into her chair, the plug pushing itself further up into her, making it hard for her to hold her glass steady. The gaslights faded as
she took her first sip, the play was about to begin.
She almost screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder. He had moved so quietly, she barely realised. Behind her ear, she heard Papa whisper, “Stand up and put down your glass.”
She did as he asked, his lips falling on her neck a moment later. The play had started but her concentration was only on him. His hands slid down her back. “What are you doing?” she whispered, glancing down at the crowd to see if anyone was looking their way.
“It is too dark for them to see,” he hissed back, kissing her earlobe. “Pity, they’d have quite the view.”
She felt his hands on the hem of her dress, lifting it slowly up her legs. Underneath she had worn no underwear as he’d ordered and his fingers went straight to her thighs, nudging her legs apart. She almost lost her balance, falling forwards but catching herself on the edge of the box. She gripped the railing in her hand, keeping as neutral a face as she could whilst his fingers teased their way around her core, stroking through her wetness and then up into her, making her want to scream with pleasure.
The actors on stage might as well have been speaking a foreign language for all the attention she paid them. His hands had moved to the plug, tugging and pushing it, stretching her entrance whilst she had to keep quiet, not wanting the audience to see what was happening to her. She tried to reach the curtain to pull it across and block their view but it was just too far away.
“Don’t move,” Titus growled behind her, easing the plug out of her. She waited, listening to the rustle of clothing behind her. A moment later, she felt the heat of his member between her buttocks, thrusting upwards along the valley of her posterior, teasing her further by sliding down to her nub, stroking gently over it, gathering up her wetness until it was coated.
“Don’t make a sound.” She knew what was coming but then he tricked her. Just as he seemed on the verge of sliding into her core, he moved upwards, pushing the tip of his member into her posterior, stretching her as wide as the plug had done. But he was so much bigger. She felt faint as he thrust slowly into her, each inch widening and torturing her, making her nerve endings come alive. It was so much better than the chair, better still than his fingers, it just felt so perfect, a blend of pain and pleasure that made her feel more alive than she ever had before.
He froze in place but she was too hungry for him to stop, pushing back against him until her bottom pressed against his hips. “You’re all the way in my bottom,” she muttered. “I can’t believe you’re all the way inside me.”
“I’m going to fuck your arse,” he growled back at her. “Because you’re mine to do what I want with. I’m going to come in your arse whilst you have to keep quiet.” As he spoke he pulled back and the moment he finished talking, he thrust all the way into her in a single strong motion, her posterior reacting by gripping him in place, drawing him further inside.
“Come in me,” she hissed, glancing out as a couple of people looked up at her. She managed a polite nod before turning her face to the stage, trying not to rock against the edge of the box as behind her, Titus began to slam into her posterior.
Her core cried out for attention and she managed to get a hand under herself, reaching for her nub, stroking it frantically whilst his breathing grew heavier behind her. “I’m going to come in your arse,” he said, too loudly.
A number of audience members looked up at her and she realised Titus was hidden at the back of the box, only her face was visible. Let them look, she thought, too far gone to care.
She felt it happen just as she reached her own climax. The feel of him spurting into her bottom combined with her finger’s light touch on her clit to push her over the edge. She kept her mouth closed, somehow she managed to not make a sound as his member jerked and twitched inside her posterior, filling her with his hot seed, making her feel more loved than she thought possible as her own climax raced through her.
The door at the back of the box creaked open and Rose was barely conscious of a lantern light shining in at her. “Mr. Burlingham,” Geoffrey whispered. “We’ve had some complaints from downstairs. Oh my goodness, what on earth is going on in here?”
Rose was still laughing when the two of them burst out onto the street a minute later. “I think it might be a while before I use the box again,” Titus said, taking her hand in his.
“I was so embarrassed,” Rose replied. “I can’t believe he saw that.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s seen worse. The other boxes belong to far naughtier people than me.”
“But you were inside me.”
“I was and if you’re lucky, I will be again very shortly.”
“Will you indeed?”
“There’s only one thing I regret.”
“And what’s that?”
“I left the deuced plug on the floor of the box.”
Chapter 30
“I have good news,” Titus said, looking in at Rose as she scraped the burnt bits off the toast. He looked happier than she had seen him in days. He had not smiled since that night at the theatre and that had been nearly a week ago.
“You’ve hired a cook so I don’t have to sit in front of the stove all morning?”
“Better. I have a job.” He set down his case, nodding towards it. “Some things from my former home. I will unpack it later.”
“You have a job?” Rose set down the toast and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “That’s wonderful. What job is it?”
“Tutor to a young woman.”
“Oh, I see.” Her arms slid from him and she took a step backwards. “Do I need to worry?”
“You jealous little thing. No, you do not need to worry. I love you, Rose, no one else.”
“But what if she is more attractive than me? What if her parents like you?”
“What of it? You are the one I have chosen to spend my life with.”
“Could you not take a different job?”
“Believe me, I have tried. There is nothing out there unless you want me to live in at one of the mills, then where would we be? I would never see you.”
“How did you find out about this woman?”
“I went back to the office. Mrs. Cartwright had a job lined up waiting for me. I will be gone during the days but I will be back each night and you do not need to worry about a thing.”
“I will miss you.”
“I will miss you too but you just play the day away and I will be back before you know it.”
He left the next morning. Rose had woken several times in the night, each time finding it harder to let sleep take her. She was nervous, she was happy to admit it to herself. She didn’t want him to go. She knew she couldn’t tell him to stay, it would not be fair. How else would they raise the money to remain in that house? He had insisted she not work. “Little Roses do not work, they play,” was his answer when she asked why.
She was groggy with the need for sleep when he climbed out of bed and dressed. She got up too, watching him go from the doorstep, seeing him walk away with a spring in his step. It had been some time since he had looked so happy. He might have told her not to worry, but she worried all the same. She thought about the woman he was going to tutor. Margaret Smethwick, she was called. She could picture her, all shining blonde curls and a perfect smile. Hourglass figure accentuated by a corset. She’d take to wearing a nappy as if it were second nature. No, worse, she wouldn’t need to wear one. He’d fall for her the moment he met her, perhaps not even bothering to come back to say it was over.
She worked herself up until there was a knot of fear in her stomach. Just calm down, she told herself. She will be some spoilt greasy haired fat girl, spot covered with rotten teeth to boot. He’s not going to run off with her. He will be back this evening and it will all be fine. Find something to do, think of something to occupy yourself before you go mad.
She noticed his case still sitting on the floor and decided he might appreciate her unpacking for him. She could even tidy and clean for him, that woul
d be a lovely thing to do. With a smile on her face, she picked up the case and set it down on the table, undoing the clasps and swinging open the lid.
The first layer was clothing, neatly folded. She arranged it nicely in their battered old wardrobe before returning to the case, pulling out a collection of papers. She found space for them in his writing desk, being careful not to mix up their order, having little idea how important they might be.
All that was left in the case was some trinkets and an envelope. She dotted the ornaments on the windowsills, smiling at the sight. Already it looked more homely. She picked up the envelope, carrying it across to the writing desk. She was about to put it down when the seal broke and slid open. Something fell out, rolling across the floor and vanishing under the sofa.
“Curses,” Rose muttered, getting on her knees and stretching out to retrieve it. She got her fingers onto something cold and hard, a small object that she brought out into the light. Her mouth fell open as she saw what it was that had fallen from the envelope and almost escaped. It was a wedding ring.
She turned it over in her hand. There could be no doubt about it. The swine was married. He had kept that fact a secret. Suddenly disgusted by the ring, she put it down on the writing desk, walking to the other side of the room and staring down at the floor, her mind beginning to churn. He was married. What other explanation could there be? Why would he keep a wedding ring in an unmarked envelope other than to hide it? Was he hoping to marry her as well? Was that his game? Marry the rich ones and then run off with their wealth to find the next sap.
Wait a moment, she told herself. At least give him a chance to explain. There may be some reason you cannot think of, some innocent explanation. Do not immediately think him a liar.
She spent the rest of the day in a nervous state. When she sat, she had to stand. When she stood, she felt dizzy. Lying down made her feel ill, pacing up and down the floor made her worse. In the end she went for a walk, returning as it grew dark. He was still not back. He said he’d be back in the evening. It was almost ten. Where was he?