by N. J Ross
Contents
Title Page
TEASER
Copyright
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
PART TWO
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
PART THREE
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
HIS DARK DELIGHTS
A HISTORICAL BWWM BOX-SET
N.J Ross
Copyright © 2015 N.J Ross. All rights reserved.
Logo Image © photochatree, Bigstockphoto.com.
Cover Image © haeton, Bigstockphoto.com, © stryjek, Fotolia.com.
FROM THE DUKE’S DARK DELIGHT
‘You can’t punish me!’ I cried. ‘White men always think they can punish the black girls!’
The Duke laughed softly. With a final squeeze of my buttock, I felt the Duke lift his hand away from my flesh, and then, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I felt his heavy hand come smacking down onto me.
My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes widened with the pain of the strike. Little needles of red hot sensation spread out from his fingers across my flesh. I had not expected him to hit me so hard. Then, without any warning, he lifted his hand again and brought it down with a hard, snapping thwack sound on my bottom, even harder than before. I felt my flesh pucker underneath him, as my body struggled to react to the pain it was experiencing.
‘Oh my…’ I stuttered. I did not know whether I was angry or grateful.
‘It seems perhaps this white man is spanking some sense into you,’ said the Duke, and on the word spanking I felt that strange, hard object, pressing up from between his thighs, prodding me in the stomach again. It felt as though he had a wooden rod down there!
My thoughts were broken by another slap.
‘Oh, sir!’ I cried, as my whole body shifted forward with the power of the smack. I closed my eyes and took the pain, as it radiated around my buttocks, and through my core, all the way round to my little ripe pussy, which shivered underneath me, so close to his rough hands.
I could feel the flesh of my bottom swelling and reddening with each slap as the Duke taught me his lesson, and I felt that maybe, just maybe, I was feeling some of that rebelliousness beginning to seep out of me. Each slap had started to make my pussy began to beat with pleasure, with anticipation. I knew he was looking at me there, because with each strike now he was pinching my buttocks and pushing them up so that he could see that secret little place. I knew that I had started to glisten for him.
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 between 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.
FROM POSSESSED BY THE WHITE BARON
‘Guests, this is Harmony, who I’m sure you know. Although she does not know it yet, I selected her, all that time ago, for a very special purpose. You see, my wife is barren, and I need an heir. Now Harmony is, I am reliably informed, a virgin. That is to say, no one has explored her special area in the slightest. I intend to change that. Now, I want my son, when he is born, to be obedient and well mannered, and that is why Harmony just had to be a virgin; the sweeter the mother, the sweeter the child.’ I could feel my heart rate starting to race faster and faster. So that’s what the Baron had in mind for me! I was to become the mother of his child, he would make me fat with his seed, fill my stomach. I felt a fluttering sensation in my body and once again my pussy began to seep and pulse beneath me. I was special, I had been chosen. Lust began to take over and I felt myself melting in the Baron’s powerful arms.
‘I have always had a thing for… dark girls,’ the Baron continued. ‘And I have never yet had the opportunity to taste one.’ He ran his fingers across my skin, his tongue moving slowly across my skin. ‘I want to watch this little black wench grow fat with my seed. I want her to give me a nice, healthy, dark-skinned baby boy.’
I began to feel my heart growing faster, with anger… or lust. How dare he talk about me like this? Like I was just a piece of… dark meat? And yet… something about being his meat… it made me want his meat…
‘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.’
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
Chapter 1
I knew, when I began working for the Duke of Livingstone, in the great Livingstone Manor, that this was going to be a job like no other. But I never realised just how different it was going to be.
My name is Melody Mahama, and I am eighteen-and-a-half years old. The half is important, because that means it is half a year since my story really began, as it was on my eighteenth birthday that the Duke of Livin
gstone first made his intentions towards me clear.
However, I am getting ahead of myself. You’ll have to forgive me for that. I get over-excited and want to tell everything at once, especially where my Duke is concerned.
Here is how it began.
My upbringing had been kind, but lacking in luxury and wealth. My poor parents tried their best to provide for me, but being black-skinned people in Victorian England did not give us the best advantage. My grandfather had been brought to England from the Caribbean some fifty or sixty years ago, and had begun his time in this country as a slave. After serving a wealthy and demanding Lord for twenty years, he had been set free aged fifty-one, and had gone on to marry a young African woman who worked in a nearby kitchen, and they had produced many offspring together. I think having been enslaved for so long, he was more than ready to sew his seed, and that is how my mother was born. My father’s family had not been brought to the company as slaves, but they were lowly blacksmiths’ assistants nonetheless. So let us just say: I was no aristocrat. Far from it.
The damp squalor of our home took its toll on my parents’ health, and they both departed from this world when I was just fifteen years of age. I was taken to a nearby orphanage for girls, where I was taught the basics of etiquette and household chores, so that I might become a servant one day – and that would only be my fate if I was lucky. Many of the girls in the orphanage ended up being sold to wealthy Lords as courtesans and Mistresses. I have to confess, awful as their fate sounded, I always felt a twinge of excitement for them, wondering what their life would be like from then on, having to give their body to their new Master, whenever it took his fancy…
But at that time, I was only fifteen years old, not to mention black-skinned, and it did no good at all for a young girl to think about such things for too long. So I got on with life at the orphanage, working hard, keeping myself clean and out of trouble, watching my body change and blossom into early maidenhood, until one day, Mrs. Mallory, who ran the orphanage, announced that a very special visitor was due to visit us that day.
‘It is the Duke of Livingstone,’ she said, with a wide, toothy grin. ‘The most ‘andsome Duke in all the county!’
Well, at those words some of the girls began immediately giggling behind their hands, excitable, and Mrs. Mallory raised a hand to quiet us.
‘Be quiet, cretins,’ she said. ‘He is not for the likes of young girls like you. The Duke of Livingstone is renowned for having some… very adult tastes…’ Her gaze lingered in some distant place, and I noticed her running a hand across her clavicle, as if caressing herself momentarily, and then her eyes snapped back onto us. ‘Today, however, he is here to pick a new servant girl. So look sharp, and here’s a new bar of soap for wash time.’
One of the oldest girls, Judith, grabbed the soap greedily out of Mrs. Mallory’s hands, and a great ruckus began as we fought with one another over who should take their bath first, and who the Duke of Livingstone was likely to choose to work for him. Not one for fights, I hung back and watched my fellow orphans, wondering what the Duke would think of the sight of all of them arguing like this. I slipped away somewhere quiet, to have a wash in private, and to dream about what a new life with someone like a Duke might mean, knowing that he’d never pick someone like me.
Chapter 2
That afternoon, we were lining up in an orderly fashion, our faces not quite spick and span, but probably shining more freshly than they had ever done in our lives, and we were waiting for the arrival of the Duke of Livingstone with giddy hearts.
‘Now remember what I said,’ said Mrs. Mallory. ‘No chewing, no swearing, no answering back, and definitely no speaking unless spoken to.’
She stood looking at us all, with a slightly disappointed but nonetheless accepting expression, and we waited for a full five minutes like that, in silence, until there was a rap at the orphanage door.
And that’s when Mrs. Mallory became extremely giddy, like a teenage girl, like she was just one of us. ‘Oh goodness!’ she squawked, ‘he’s here!’ She pulled the straps of her frock down a little lower, so that half her rather flat bust was on display, and she hurried over to the front door, skipping like an over-excited child.
‘My Duke, my Duke!’ she babbled, as we heard her opening the door. ‘How wonderful to see you, sir… I mean sire…. I mean your honour…. Please, come in!’
We couldn’t see the door from where we stood, lined up in the front room, but we craned our necks, listening for the first sound of the Duke, wondering what the man who got Mrs. Mallory in such a tizzy was really like. Knowing her she had terrible tastes, and he would be a repulsive, weasly creature…
‘Thank you, Mrs. Mallory,’ said a booming, deep voice, full of power and control. ‘I shall just be choosing one girl today. I want the most obedient one you’ve got.’
‘Of course, your majesty… your honour,’ simpered Mrs. Mallory pathetically, but the Duke interrupted her.
‘If you try and trick me, Mrs. Mallory, I’ll know about it. I want obedience or nothing.’
And with that, the commanding gentleman stepped into the front room, and we all gasped. He must have been over six foot five tall, and, being an orphanage full of girls, we were not used to seeing anyone even close to six foot, let alone taller. His complexion was slightly tanned, which was surprising given our position in the English countryside, and certainly not something we were used to seeing either, given that we were expected to spend all day working indoors, and never got the chance to darken our skin. His hair was thick and dark, and he had a layer of stubble upon his chin that seemed to imply a great virility, as if every time he shaved the stubble just popped straight back up, being as full of testosterone as he was. His face was angular and incredibly handsome, and his figure was muscular and trim.
Even the fussiest girls among us looked weak at the knees as he approached.
‘Girls,’ he boomed, walking to the end of the line, and looking down at us. ‘I am now going to perform a brief inspection of each of you. If I ask you to step forward, you must do as I say. I will then ask Mrs. Mallory to comment upon the manners and obedience of the girls I have selected to stand forwards, and I will pick one of you to be my own.’
The way he said to be my own really made it sound like we were his possessions. Which, I suppose we were to be. It was just a shock to hear it said aloud like that!
At that point, the Duke took a step towards the girl at the end of the line, and his inspection began.
Chapter 3
‘Too tall,’ said the Duke, looking at the first girl. ‘Too short,’ he said, walking past the next. ‘Too fat,’ he said to the third. ‘Too pale,’ he said to the fourth.’ At the fifth girl, he stopped. ‘You look pliant enough. Nice and docile. Step forwards, girl.’ The girl did as she was told, and the Duke grabbed hold of her face. ‘You have all your teeth, I take it?’ The girl nodded as well as she could, given that her head was in a vice of the Duke’s clutches. ‘A little on the thin side, though…’
‘I can fatten up!’ squeaked the girl. The Duke looked at her in astonishment.
‘How dare you answer me back, wench!’ he shouted. ‘Step back in line.’
The girl, sniffing, trying to hide her tears, returned to the line, and the Duke moved on.
After ten minutes or so he had inspected every one of us except me, who was standing awkwardly at the end of the queue. He had only bade three girls to step forwards, and not one of them had dared answer the Duke back, having already witnessed the first girl’s mistake.
Finally, the Duke stepped up to me. ‘Interesting,’ he said, looking close at my face. ‘What dark skin this one has…. Her facial features are a little large, but I daresay she might grow into them. She may even become quite attractive, in a year or two…’
I held my breath, afraid that even the slightest sound of breathing might turn him against me, and I stood as straight as I could, looking up at him but without impolitely
staring. ‘You have a comely figure,’ he said, his eyes trailing down my chest. I could hear Mrs. Mallory tutting angrily behind him, no doubt jealous of the fact that I had full breasts and a plump arse already, and she didn’t have them at all!
‘Step forwards, girl,’ he said, and I did as I was told. ‘Now turn around for me.’ Again, I did as I was instructed, and my ears burned as I felt his eyes boring into my backside. ‘Face the front again,’ he commanded. I felt dizzy with all these demands, but I have to say, I rather enjoyed them too. It felt rather marvellous to be under such firm control, to know exactly what my boundaries were, and that it was imperative I must cross them.
‘Yes,’ said the Duke. ‘You can stay standing forwards.’
Finally, I allowed myself to take a breath, but tried to make it as light and dainty as possible. For a moment, I wondered if I might faint.
‘So, Mrs. Mallory,’ said the Duke, turning back to the simpering old woman. ‘Which of these four girls who I have asked to step forwards is the most obedient, would you say?’