Rough Erotica

by Lexi Lovelost

  She hurriedly grabbed her reticule and headed for the door. She had to get to the village’s small train stop to buy a ticket to her new destination. That train was always heavily crowded and if she didn’t get there in time today to purchase a ticket she might not have a seat available to her.

  As she opened the door she was assaulted by the sight of the smoke-ringed village and the filthy coal being brought up from the mines. And it hit her.

  She was free!

  She was free of all of it. The mines, the need to curb her pert tongue, the rules and strict life her father had imposed upon her and that she had chafed under so terribly. From then on out she would keep her own house and do whatever she wanted with nobody to tell her otherwise!

  Smiling and happy she raced toward the village and the train station.

  CHAPTER 2

  The valises and the laden trunk were by the door. The new vicar’s wife came through the house sniffing and sneering at the humble stone walls and the flagstone floor. She looked down her nose at Clarissa and asked, “No stove?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “We had to purchase the stove when we arrived and I informed the lord that I would sell it as I was under the impression you, too, would provide your own.”

  The vicar, a pale and leaden man, spoke in a reedy voice. “That’s untenable. The lord should have demanded you leave it.”

  Clarissa grit her teeth. She and her mother had done without many small luxuries to afford that stove when they arrived—scented milled soaps and the fabric for a new dress each. Not to mention they’d drunk their own tea weak and very watery for months so her father could have a full measure of tea in his own cup. Also to be able to afford that stove. She snapped, “The lord had no say. He didn’t purchase the stove. Perhaps he would be willing to aid you in acquiring a new one.”

  She headed for the door, determined to stay not a moment longer. She’d enlisted the assistance of a stout and simple young man from the village to carry her luggage down to the village and he stood by the door, his placid face registering nothing.

  “We shall be going now,” Clarissa announced. “If you can shoulder the trunk I can manage the valises.”

  He nodded and picked up the very heavy trunk quite easily, his broad muscles rippling below his shirt and thin jacket. A sudden bolt of desire shot through Clarissa. She had no idea what that sudden flush of heat was, and chalked it up to the anger boiling through her at the new resident’s high-handed attitudes and dismissal of her hard work to make the place spic-n-span for them.

  “Now see here,” the wife said sharply. “You’ve not shown up the gardens or the pantry nor the…”

  “I have a train to catch.” Clarissa snapped back. “In case you have not noticed, every single thing in here from walls to floor and beyond, have been scrubbed to the bones in an effort to make you feel welcome. I have left you a good store of last year’s jams and jellies in the pantry, and I could have sold them instead. I put fresh stuffing into the mattresses and neatened the yards for you as well. You have no appreciation and while I would like to stand here and let you continue to abuse me, I have other things to do.”

  She walked out. Her back was straight and her smile huge. By God they could call her impudent all they liked! They could go to Hell for all she cared!

  She was free and her train would be pulling into the station shortly. She lengthened her steps and hurried toward the village, the brawny simpleton moving easily alongside her.

  The train station came into view and she tendered over her luggage and went to sit on the long bench outside. The passengers who were waiting had come off other trains and one of them caught her eye. He was delicious-looking. He was tall and straight, slightly older—about thirty. His hair, a crisp brown with ruddy highlights, was lustrous and thick, and his shoulders wide and strong below the broadcloth coat.

  He gave her a careful scan. Her face flamed and she looked away. He sat beside her and asked, “Where are you traveling?”

  “Much the same place everyone else is I expect.”

  “Saucy, aren’t you?”

  The words came out on a laugh. She gave him her sternest look then burst out with, “It’s neither here nor there, not to you, now is it?”

  The train approached the station with a screech and a whistle. Clarissa stood, suddenly nervous. She’d never been out of the small and unpleasant place before and now that she was leaving she was seized with a terrible fear.

  That fear left her shaken and confused. She held her reticule tightly and took a long breath before dashing into the train to try to find a seat. She sat quickly, trying to scrunch herself into the side of the seat as an astoundingly large woman suddenly plopped down beside her, her bags and cases banging into Clarissa’s sharp elbows and knees.

  Desperate Clarissa managed to get past the woman and her belongings but in her haste she dropped her reticule. Just as she was casting about for it the conductor said, “I need your ticket Miss.”

  “My reticule! I…I’ve lost it! It was…” All of her money was in there. So was her ticket! Horrified and frightened Clarissa cast about. She said, “It must be under her.”

  The stranger stepped forward. He said, “She’s in my private compartment. I will see to her ticket at the next stop if we do not locate it before then. Please have her luggage delivered to the compartment in the meantime”

  The conductor tipped his hat and said, “Of course Sir. I’ll see if I can find the reticule as well. What does it look like Miss?”

  “It’s small and gray. There’s a blue ribbon near the top, threaded through the closings.”

  Her heart slammed so rapidly against her ribs she was sure she was going to faint. The man who’d spoken for her guided her down the crowded aisles past the cheapest seats, for which she had bought a ticket, and she wanted to protest but if she did she would have to leave the train and she had no money to board later. Or anywhere to stay while she waited as she had so seriously burned her bridges with the new vicar and his horrid wife.

  They entered the compartment. He shut the door and gave her a stern look. “You should be more careful.”

  Her face burned. “I am grateful for your help but I assure you it wasn’t my fault. That woman almost smothered me!”

  His lips curved upward. “I could see that from afar.”

  The train began to huff out black steam. Clarissa looked around the compartment. It was small, and the curtains over the windows were closed tightly. Even though it was dim in there she could see the narrow berth of bed and the small built-in table and the neat chair pulled up below it.

  His luggage, handsomely matched pieces, sat near the bed and she blushed as she realized that she was alone with him in his bedchamber, something no proper young woman should be.

  The train lurched forward and she thrown toward him. Their bodies collided. His arms came up and went around her. Her breath came out in a hard gasp.

  He said, “What is your name?”

  “Clarissa Banks.”

  His body was lean and elegant, very taut. Her breath caught in her throat. He said, “Miss Banks, you deserve a lesson in how to behave.”

  Before she could even think he had flipped her neatly across the bed, yanked her skirts up, and delivered a hard slap to her exposed bottom! An indignant squeal came from her mouth and she managed to right herself. She spun around and said, “How dare you?”

  Her face was heated. Her bottom even more so. Her entire body was awash in that heat that had hit her earlier when the village boy had so easily lifted her trunk.

  He said, “How dare you speak so rudely? How dare you misplace your ticket, and your entire reticule?”

  She went down on her belly yet again. Her skirts swung upward and his hand cracked across her bottom again. That time he cupped his palm so that the pain hit directly in the center of the smack. Her cry was one of outrage and desire.

  He released her and said, “Now let that serve to remind you to mind your manners.”
>
  There was a knock on the door Clarissa hastily yanked her skirts straight and lifted a hand to her carefully arranged hair. He opened the door and said, “Yes?”

  “We’ve found the young lady’s reticule, Sir. It seems a rather large woman had sat up in it.”

  “Oh, of course.” He took her reticule while she fumed, opened it and held her ticket out. It was punched quickly, with the conductor not even looking at the front of it where it was written that she had a cheap seat.

  The conductor left and she said, “Well, I will just be on my way.”

  “Your luggage is here,” he said, pointing to the door, still slightly ajar, and the valises beside it.

  Her face went hot again. “I see.”

  He said, “The compartment is much more comfortable than the seats. If they load on more people, and they shall, you may find yourself standing for much of your journey.”

  “Well, I can’t stay in here with you, Sir!”

  His eyes were a warm and bottomless brown. Her whole body responded to them, and to him. He said, “But why not?”

  She lifted her chin. “For obvious reasons, of course.”

  He said, “Well, there is a second berth, there, above. That bench that makes the lower berth is far more comfortable and longer and wider than any seat out there, but have it your way. Now, if you would like to accompany me to the dining room to have some luncheon I would be happy to pay for your meal.”

  Clarissa paused, torn. He’d just spanked her as if she were a child and she was having a very odd reaction to both that and him, and she wasn’t sure she liked any of it. But she was sure that she wanted the chance to find out if she hated it.

  Besides, she was off on an adventure! Once settled into her new home she might have to wait years to meet the neighbors in a good way, and she would likely be very lonely again. As lonely as she had been for so very long. He was older, so spanking her had likely been a fatherly thing to do.

  Besides, the idea of luncheon was appealing. She’d packed cold sandwiches and then she’d left the basket sitting in the kitchen. Those rotten mean people who’d taken over her childhood home were probably eating the boiled eggs and the jam-and-butter sandwiches right then.

  She’d been living very meanly for a very long time. Since her father’s death and the sale of the stove she’d subsisted on warm tea and the leftovers from the funeral feast as well whatever she had to eat before it went bad. She’d had little in the way of hot meals and her young and healthy body demanded she say yes.

  CHAPTER 3:

  Luncheon had been delicious. Her companion, who introduced himself as simply Paul, was equally delicious. He was educated and polite. He was also devilishly handsome, and when his hand accidentally brushed hers, or his knees pressed against hers for just a moment little thrills shot through her entire body.

  Their conversation turned quickly to her and she had tried to avoid too much discussion on the subject. She didn’t want to talk about the future at all; she had no idea what it held really. She did allow herself to discuss her past and when she said she had a reputation for being too sassy, and that that reputation had been unwelcome to both her parents, and prospective employers, he’d said he wasn’t a whit shocked by that fact.

  Back in the compartment Clarissa took a seat and stared out at the rolling scenery. Hills had been replaced by flat grassy land and small villages huddled past the tracks, and blue sky had replaced the black clouds of coal smoke.

  Paul said, “So, are you on your way to a better position then?”

  “I am.”

  He said, “Then perhaps I can help you.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “How so?”

  “You are far too impudent. You really must need to learn how to behave properly.”

  There was a glint in his eyes that made her body ache. She said, “I see. I suppose you may be right but you are hardly going to be able to teach me a lesson, Sir.”

  His eyebrow lifted, “I thought I already had.”

  A naughtiness filled her. This was a game of sorts and she knew it. That freedom of hers was new but she wanted to embrace it and this adventure she had been handed. There might never be another one like it, after all.

  “I assure you that you haven’t.” The words were carefully chosen for maximum sauciness.

  He came closer. His bay run lingered on the air and his eyes met hers. His teeth, very white and square, showed between his full lips. “I assure you I intend to change that fact then, Miss.”

  She gasped out, “Indeed Sir, and how shall you ever manage that?”

  He pulled her up from the berth. Her feet came off the floor and her body shook as he said, “I think we will start here.”

  His mouth came down on hers; hard. His lips were warm and firm but soft. Hers yielded below that kiss and then his tongue thrust into her mouth, making her whimper and wriggle against him. A thick hardness on his trousers caught her attention and she managed to break out of his embrace for a moment to stare downward at the plump and full outline of his cock, fully visible within his tight fawn-colored trousers.

  His hands undid her buttons so quickly she was stripped bare before her thoughts could fully form. Her skirt, waist-shirt, and petticoats landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, leaving her in only a thin chemise and her frilly underpants.

  Then those were gone too.

  Clarissa was unused to being nude, and she had never been nude in the presence of another person. Her hands went upward then down as she sought to hide herself from his gaze but he caught her hands and then she was facedown on the berth.

  Paul said, “Now I am going to teach you to be less saucy.”

  His hand came down on her bottom. Her ass jerked high up in the air and she cried out, her face buried in the small pillows on the berth. Her fingers clawed at the berth’s covering, disarranging them.

  The spanking was a torment and an exercise in ecstasy. His hand came down hard, sometimes he hit with his palm, other times he used his entire hand a long bands of pain radiated out from the marks his fingers left on her pale and rapidly reddening flesh.

  Juices flowed down her inner thighs from inside her swollen inner folds. The outer lips were covered in those juices, and slippery and when his fingers ran down the crack of her bottom, tapping gently at the flesh there so that her legs parted of their will, those fluids lubricated and coated his fingertips.

  He stroked his fingers up and down the seam of her pussy. Her breath hitched in and out. Paul said, “Now, I want to hear you say you are going to be far less sassy from now on out.”

  “I’ll try,” she gasped.

  “I see.”

  Another hard smack. His free hand cupped her fullness and squeezed, putting pressure on her clit and making her toes dig into the berth. Her eyes widened as pleasure coursed through her. She knew he wanted her to behave, but that they were both enjoying her near-refusal to do so. She said, “I suppose I could try harder. I am just not sure I want to.”

  The next slap to her bottom sent her spinning toward orgasm. Clarissa had no idea what that delightful heat, the tightening within her body, meant. All she knew was that she wanted more of it.

  “Tsk tsk, young lady,” Paul said.

  He slid a finger into her depths, testing the tightness of her walls. Clarissa wriggled and thrust backwards, trying to get more of him inside her body. Her limbs shook and her inner walls opened and parted as he added a second finger and thrust even more deeply with those soaked and slippery walls.

  Shivering and close to coming, lost in a haze of desire all she could do was grip the berth as his hands moved over her sore ass. The skin was hot to the touch and his fingers pressed into the muscles below the surface of her skin, teasing little flares of pain to the surface and causing even more juices to spill from her body.

  He pulled his fingers from her with a wet pop. His hand, streaked with her oils, smoothed her bottom again and then he lifted her bottom up higher. His hot mouth found her
center, his tongue licking away the gathered and beaded juices there on the throbbing flesh of her clit.

  Dazed and excited beyond reason Clarissa whimpered and thrust upward and back. His tongue slid along the seam of her labia, parting the slick flesh. Her cries were muffled by the pillows and she smelled starch and lilac water on the sheets as he pulled her back and up so sharply that her tender nipples, stiffened into tight peaks, scraped across the soft linen in a delightfully pleasant way.

  His tongue massaged her clit and his fingers thrust back into her. Her toes pushed into the mattress and her fingers clutched at the sheets, nearly ripping them from the bed.

  Paul continued to torment her. Her body rocked from side to side as she sought a release from the pleasure and torment, a pleasure and release she didn’t even have a name for. More juices spilled along the thick curls at the junction of her thighs and she shuddered all over as he abruptly stopped. He undid the buttons on his trousers and pressed the thick head of his shaft against the narrow opening to her inner folds.