His Dark Delights - Box Set: BWWM Historical BDSM Victorian Erotica

by N. J Ross

  ‘You’re a feisty little wench,’ he said, and then, he drew the knife from his waist-band, ‘we can’t be having that.’ He reached down, and for a moment, I felt sure that he was going to run me through. I felt the knife against me body and then, with a little cut, he dragged it up my side, splitting my garments apart. How dare he!

  ‘You needn’t have done that, you brute!’ I shouted, and then, I felt the shushing touch of his fingers on my thigh.

  ‘Shhhh,’ he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve a shirt you can wear,’ then, he moved his hand higher, up to the tip of my entrance. ‘Have you ever been touched by the hand of a white man before?’ I shook my head nervously. ‘Oh, this black rose has never been plucked. Not by any hand! Don’t worry, I’ll be as gentle as a lamb,’ and with that, he thrust his two thick fingers straight up my cunny. I shrieked, first with surprise, and then with unexpected pleasure. I felt as though a part of me which had been yearning for something had finally been filled. He pushed further into me and flexed his fingers lightly. I wriggled as I felt surges of pleasure throb dully around me and I started to moan.

  ‘You beast,’ I said, closing my eyes and giving in to the pleasure.

  He suddenly withdrew his fingers from me, and scrabbled down the bed.

  ‘I want a taste of this rose, my dear,’ he said, and I felt the thick warm wetness of his tongue, starting to explore my virginal opening. He licked up the left lip and then the right, he thrust the tongue into me, making me pant and squirm and grind myself into him, and then, with wet fingers, he smoothly stroked above my little kitty. I felt a surge of hot joy explode from my centre as he touched the nub of flesh above my opening, and I felt as though there was a wolf down there, licking at my with its monstrous tongue, thrusting it’s claws into my meat, eating me like an animal. He worked harder and faster, and it was as though all of his tools were beating together, to give me as much silken pleasure as I could take.

  ‘You taste like wine, my dear, like sweet honeyed wine. Do ye want to have a taste of me? See what a white man’s dick tastes like?’

  I nodded, and in no time, he stood with his crotch by my head and then ripped away the tattered fabric of his trousers, so that I saw for the first time his manhood in its full glory. It was larger than I’d even imagined, and it seemed smooth and hard, like the flesh of a young sapling. He pushed the tip of his cock closer to my mouth, and then, hungrily I swallowed it down into me, wrapping my lips around it, and planting kisses and licks all the way up and down its length. He tasted of the wilds, a salty, earthy smell, like fire and iron and the hills. I felt a new type of hunger fill me, something I’d never felt before, a specific desire for this object, this hot, living flesh, to be pushed in between the lips of my pussy. I needed it, and I showed him how much I needed him, still lashed to the bed, still unable to move, waiting for him to bestow his magnificent white dick upon me.

  ‘Are you ready to feel me inside you, woman, are you ready to run wild with me?’

  I nodded. The ‘Duke’ pounced up onto the bed, growled like a beast. He lay over me, his face inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my cheek and then he kissed me once more, and while I felt his tongue probing my mouth, his cock started to ask questions of my other mouth. Its smooth tip lay between those never split lips, and then, with a soft push, he pushed it into me. I felt the warmth more than anything else, and the pleasure of being stretched open by him. There was a little pain, and he pushed against it until, with an odd sinuous tug, the pain eased and was replaced by the firm, confident pleasure of a man who knew what he wanted.

  ‘Does it hurt, Madam?’ he said, with genuine concern in his wild eyes. Suddenly, up close, I recognised him. He had the face of the lost Duke of York!

  ‘You, you’re…’ I started.

  ‘You finally worked it out,’ he said, and he started to move inside me. With another twist and a tug, I realised that he sliced apart the bonds which held my hands. Finally, I was free to move my arms over him. I touched his smooth, muscular back, and then, feeling wicked, I moved my fingers over his arse. He moaned.

  He moved in me, stronger and stronger, and I dug my nails into this heavenly, royal body. I wanted to rip him apart as he split my peach in two, rubbing the juice of my sex into the nub of flesh above my pussy with his thick fingers. I bucked beneath him and shrieked with pleasure as this stag, this wolf, this eagle of a man pushed harder and harder into me. I pushed my finger into his mouth and he bit it, he pulled my hair back and lifted my bodily as we fucked, eager to discover each other’s bodies.

  ‘My black rose, you’ve got your fair share of thorns, but I’ve got mine too,’ he said, and as he spoke, I felt his thick finger by my arsehole. Before I had time to resist he plunged it in and fucked me harder. The surprise and delight of being plundered by him was too much for me to bear and I felt a well of sweet honey build in me and begin to overflow. The muscles in my body contracted and I started to see bright white light in front of my vision. I wept with joy and then I felt him start to build a knot in me with his cock, its length pulsing and warming in me, until another explosion happened. He filled me with his royal seed. And it felt exquisite.

  *

  I lost count of the amount of times we fucked out in that cottage, the Duke and I. He’d go out hunting and return with stag or rabbit, and then he’d fill me with his fluid once more. My belly became swollen with his seed, and I knew that soon I’d have a little royal bastard on my hands, with skin the colour of tea and a voice as rich and deep as the king himself.

  Then, I thought, maybe we’d go back to the Duchy one day, and take what was rightfully ours…

  PART THREE

  Chapter 14

  ‘Who’s there? Come out, you wretch. You’ve had your eyeful; now it’s time for you to take your punishment!’

  I stood completely still, listening to the sound of my own breath, not wanting to move an inch. I had known the moment I had seen what was happening in Baron Logan’s bedroom that if he caught me looking I’d be in serious trouble, but hearing his voice ring out in the night like that filled me with terror. I continued to peep through the keyhole, hoping against hope that the incredible man whose naked form I could now see plainly ahead of me would not be able to tell where the noise of my cough had come from.

  My name is Harmony Smith, and for the last year, I had been a humble maid in the service of Baron Andrew Logan. A hugely wealthy landowner, the Baron had a sizable estate, and was responsible for a staff of over twenty servants, who lived with him and his wife in their huge manor house in the idyllic Devon countryside. I was young, only eighteen in fact, and this was my first job, having been trained by Kingsley Manton, the man who was now the head butler at the Logan estate.

  When I’d first arrived, I’d been bowled over by the size and grandeur of everything. I had been used to living in abject squalor, and even my tiny little bed in amongst the junior servant’s quarters was utter luxury for me. The others groaned and grumbled about our lodgings, but I for one could not be happier to have a little corner of the world to call my own.

  I’ll never forget meeting Baron Logan for the first time. He was there in the hallway on the day I’d arrived. Imagine that, a Baron, taking the time to meet a new, eighteen-year-old maid! I felt like the Queen of Sheba. Of course I’d never met a noble before, and seeing this strong, distinguished man greet me (as he did all of the new staff) had made my black skin flush warm with embarrassment.

  I’ll never forget it for another reason too; it was the first time that I had truly felt desire for a man. Of course, I’d had little fancies for some of the young African boys who were servants and apprentices with me, but Baron Logan was nothing like them. He was assured, he was refined, he was mature… and he was white! Not the sort of man who would normally make me flush with embarrassment, I can assure you, but there was just something about him. When he took my hand and kissed it, saying ‘Charmed, I’m sure. Harmony, is it?’ I felt an instant wetn
ess between my young thighs. I must have been lost for words because he said, ‘Nothing to worry about my dear, welcome to your new home.’

  I’d thought him so calm and so polite, so courteous and warm, nothing like I had expected. I had yet to see his stern side, of course. You see, Baron Logan, it turned out, could be quite the bruiser.

  I’d settled into life at the hall reasonably well, and soon all of the chores of the various days blended into one blur of activity. I had been doing well, had barely broken anything or fallen over, or made any silly mistakes at all. That all changed on that day though. Everything changed on that day.

  Chapter 15

  It was around half past seven that Kingsley, the head butler of the household, had called me into his chamber. He was extremely flustered, and started to talk to me quickly, without stopping for air.

  ‘Harmony, if you don’t mind, the Logans are expecting visitors tomorrow morning on the shortest of notices, and the guest chamber needs preparing. It’s the Duke and Duchess of Dorcester, extremely demanding couple, extremely demanding. They’ll be arriving early, so we need to make sure that the room is absolutely spick and span, spick and span, do you understand? Of course I’d normally just ask Bessie, but as you know she’s been stricken with that horrific Spanish influenza, and Margaret is busy preparing the geldings for tomorrow’s gala and of course I would do it, but, but…’

  I cut in. ‘Sir, don’t worry, I’ll be sure to do a very good job.’ I’d been hoping to be given a little more responsibility recently, and this was exactly the kind of thing I was after. Hopefully, I’d be trusted to dress the room appropriately, and wouldn’t have to spend quite as much of time scrubbing bathrooms and peeling potatoes. I hurried along the long, stretching corridors towards the guest wing, a part of the house I didn’t often venture into.

  When I neared the bedroom in question, I stopped for a moment. I thought I heard something, something which sounded a little like a human voice, low and rumbling and deep. Then, a moment later, I heard a cracking sound, and a dull whimper. For a crazy moment, I thought that it must be someone whipping a horse nearby, that someone must be riding a poor creature to within an inch of its life. But if that was the case, where were the sounds of the beasts hooves, and why had it sounded as though the noise had come from inside the house? Then, a chilling thought struck me.

  Could it be a ghost? Could there be a phantom, walking these corridors? No, there had to be a logical explanation, there was no way that I would allow myself to believe in the supernatural, in something as stupid and childish as ghosts!

  Then, I heard the noise again. It was clearly coming from up ahead, from a room past the guest room which I was meant to be preparing. A sudden surge of bravery swelled up in me; I was going to see exactly where this odd noise was coming from, and then I’d tell Kingsley all about it. The preparation of the room would be quite lengthy, there were all sorts of dust sheets to remove, pillows to plump and, possibly sheets to iron. But all of that could wait for the time being.

  I followed the sound down the corridor, further into the wing. There were no lit candles down here, so I carried my little three flame candelabra out in front of me like a mighty torch. Even though the light was dim, I could see that the décor round here was less opulent than in the rest of the house. In fact, it was positively drab, with wallpaper peeling and old paint flaking from poorly looked after surfaces. I tried to think of the last time I’d heard of anyone coming down this far. I couldn’t. Then, I realised, I was right at the end of the house. Ahead of me was a single door, at the very end of the corridor. The sound of the cracking and sighing was loud now, and it was obviously coming from the room ahead. Suddenly nervous, I leaned down and pressed my eye to the keyhole.

  What I saw will stay with me ‘til my dying day.

  Chapter 16

  Flesh. Spread out vertically in front of me, stretched and strained bodies, pasted up on what looked like metal frames. I almost gasped with utter shock. They were female, these bodies, female and buxom, the likes of which I’d never seen before. There were two of them, both young and pale, white-skinned, barely out of their teens, and strapped by many leather ties to the frames round the middle, round the ankles and round their wrists. They weren’t suspended quite straight, their legs were spread out so that I could see the parts between their legs and to my surprise I saw that both of the soft, pink quims of the women I could see were positively dripping with moisture, as long strands of liquid oozed from them and dripped straight down to the ground.

  The room was well lit, there must have been plenty of candles in there to provide such glowing illumination. The two women, one a brunette and one a redhead, writhed in their bonds.

  ‘Please,’ said the red head, ‘me next sir, please.’ Then, a man’s voice came from the left. It sounded stern and cold, more harsh than any voice I’d ever heard before.

  ‘Shut your trap, woman, you’ll speak only when spoken to, do you understand?’ The red headed woman nodded, silent now, and then looked down at the ground. Then, a figure emerged from the left. It was a man, as naked as the women. I saw him from behind and looked his body up and down. It was incredible to behold. He was muscular and tall, and there was something beautiful about his form, something elegant about the way he moved. That’s when I noticed that he was holding something. It looked a little like a riding crop. It was black and most certainly made from leather, I could almost feel it in my hand. The man played with the object, swishing it through the air a little, from side to side.

  ‘So, you snivelling wretch,’ he said, walking towards the red-headed woman, ‘you want me to do you next do you?’ He turned slightly to the right, and, although it was difficult to see because of the way the room was lit, I felt as though something long and hard suddenly jutted out from his stomach. Then he turned again and held the far end of the riding crop in his other hand. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘if that’s what you want.’

  He brought the crop back and, with a cruel flick of his wrist, he slapped the flat leather into the inner thigh of the red-headed woman. She screamed and then, as if trying to control herself, she was silent.

  ‘Good girl,’ he said, ‘you’re learning control so well.’ Then, he hit her again. She moaned a high-pitched squeal, then she splayed her legs even further apart her. She wanted this.

  ‘Please sir, your meat, push it in me,’ she started to say, but he whipped her flesh from side to side, leaving little red lines on the soft flesh of her thighs. Then he turned to look at the other woman. That’s when I realised - it was Baron Logan! Somehow I’d known it was him, but seeing him like this suddenly made me come over all funny. I pulled up my skirt and pulled down my undergarment and then, unable to resist, I pushed a finger up into myself. I pushed a second the next time he hit her. Then, every time he struck her, I fucked myself, feeling the raw sexual power of this room start to take over my good sense. Then, without meaning to, as my probing fingers explored the nub of tingling flesh at the top of my little cunny, I let out the tiniest, softest little moan.

  ‘Who’s there? Come out you wretch, you’ve had your eyeful, now it’s time for you to take your punishment!’ Before I had a chance to react, the Baron turned to the door and had opened it. That’s when I saw his meat. Huge and fat and pointed straight at my head.

  ‘Harmony,’ said Logan, ‘well, well. I’m afraid this is not good news for you, young lady.’

  Chapter 17

  The Baron held me utterly motionless. I thought about trying to wriggle free from his grip, and trying to run away, to anywhere, far from here, far from the madness into which I could feel myself falling. But there was another part of me, the dark side, the twisted, wicked side, that wanted to look straight into the face of madness, then open wide and give it a big, long kiss. I stayed still.

  ‘Oh I had plans for you, Harmony. I’ve been watching you for a while. I saw the way you looked at me that first day, and I’ve been waiting to break you in, you little
black beauty, to let you into my secret world. Now, I was going to break you in slowly, Harmony. I was going to take my time, going to be gentle with you at first, so that you didn’t break too soon. I wanted you to experience the delights of my strong, white flesh at your own pace, and verily, I was going to keep this particular side of me hidden from you for a while. But I suppose I have not choice now.’ The Baron looked around at the room, smiling, his dark eyes malevolent and cruel. ‘So do you like it? Do you like the décor?’

  Not knowing what he wanted from me, I dumbly nodded.

  ‘Oh you do? How delightful. Well, would you like me to introduce you to the other guests?’

  But I knew who they were. I’d never seen them like this before, of course, but I recognised Cynthia and Rosalie, two of the other serving girls. They were both slightly older than me, and I had only seen them a couple of times in the past. Now, I had seen a lot of them. I kept looking at their bodies, their bellies, their breasts, they’re little quims quivering under them, ripe and wet and engorged.