**Every character portrayed in the following story
are at least 18 years of age or older.**
He couldn't help but stare at her.
He'd been gone in India so long and
she'd grown so, so much. Her figure had
made him stop in his tracks. The frail,
mousy pale girl with too many freckles had turned into a woman. Her skin was pure milk with hair black as
night and twinkling green eyes.
He'd tried his best to act nonplussed by her, but held his suitcase in front of his thighs. It would be too awkward. After a hasty welcome home, he escaped up to his room, and locked the door.
He'd tried his best to act nonplussed by her, but held his suitcase in front of his thighs. It would be too awkward. After a hasty welcome home, he escaped up to his room, and locked the door.
"She can't be more than 16,
Thomas!" he exclaimed, scolding himself. He tried to regain normal breathing as he
stared at himself in the mirror. She was
16! She had to be. That made him
almost 30 years her senior.
He reached into his locked dresser
drawer and found some of his old nude pictures. He’d have to embed the thoughts of women more
his age into his mind again. He wasn’t a
monster, he thought. Maybe he was a
monster, but not that kind. He’d been
called everything from a hedonist to a deviant, and he knew that they were all
right. Most of the nude pictures he kept
in his locked drawer were grainy home shots of the women he’d played with. He thought fondly of his play room; a stone
dungeon where all of his sickest fantasies could come true. He’d cut, strangled, and bruised so many
women and while he’d never killed one, he’d come far too close. Siobhan was too sweet for that. He’d ruin her for the rest of her life and he
knew he couldn’t do that to her. As soon
as he'd relieved the pressure in his groin, he fixed himself up and headed down
for dinner. He tried his best to ignore
the fact that almost every one of the women in the magazine seemed to possess
her face...it wasn’t right.
He headed down to dinner and was
surprised to see four polished silver cloches among a bevy of candles and white
roses from the garden. He was finally
home.
"Good evening, Sir,” greeted
Mathew, his head butler. “Siobhan has
made beef Wellington with garlic scalloped potatoes and poached asparagus. For dessert, she's made your old favorite,
strawberry and cream torte."
Siobhan...that was her name! He thanked him for the menu announcement and
sat down for dinner. Once Mathew had served
the meal, Thomas invited him to sit and talk for a few moments. After a bit of a hesitation, Mathew sat
down.
The two men discussed Siobhan in
detail. She was from Dublin in
Ireland. Her mother was dead and her
father had put her up for sale. Thomas
remembered buying her, but never thought he’d be asking so many questions about
the girl. He’d never even bothered to
learn her name before he left.
Mathew excused himself to clean the
sideboard and left Thomas alone.
Instead of diving right into the
dinner, he marveled at how well it all smelled and looked. He wondered how much Siobhan had helped
with. She couldn’t have done it all
herself. There had been almost thirty
servants before the war.
Finally, he relented and began to
eat. Feeling isolated from eating alone,
he decided to head down to the kitchen. He
wanted to thank the staff for a phenomenal dinner. Instead of the bevy of people he expected,
only Siobhan was there; cleaning the platter that the Wellington had sat on. She looked exhausted, but still jumped to
attention as soon as she saw him there.
"I'm sorry, Sir! I didn't hear you come in. How can I help you, my Lord?" she
whispered, clearly terrified of him.
The thought of her being so scared
of him caused his cock to twitch and he found himself leaning against the
center island in an effort to hide his arousal. Afraid to look at him, she stood there and
jumped when he finally spoke.
"Do you know my name?" he
asked. She swallowed hard and nodded. He prompted her to tell him.
"You're Captain Thomas
Charles Reed of Her Royal Highness' army, my Lord," she replied, a tinge
of pride on the edge of her words.
He smiled and stepped towards her,
no longer caring if his erection was noticed. It wasn't, as her eyes were glued to his with
a fearful look.
"I want you to call me Tom,
or Thomas, should you prefer. How does that sound?" he asked,
leaning into her. He was reaching for a
spare piece of the Wellington on the cutting board and felt her shakingly
exhale when she realized his intentions.
“Why are you alone, Siobhan? Has everyone else gone to bed?” he asked,
popping the small piece of meat into his mouth.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
“They’ve been let go, my
Lord. We couldn’t afford them. The war really hurt the economy,” she
whispered.
He leaned into her again, this
time to smell the sweet scent of vanilla that emanated off of her. Her breath caught in her throat, the muscles
of her neck tensing. He reached up and
touched her skin gently, relishing in the way it bumped with tension.
She’s too young! He attempted to repeat this truth to himself
over and over, but it was doing no good.
Siobhan had stopped breathing, her
eyes closed tightly as possible. Thomas
smiled and stepped away, laying his hand on her shoulder.
“Calm down, girl. It’s just been a while since I’ve been close
to a beautiful woman,” he explained.
She nodded, looking down at the
ground.
He’d find a whore…that would get
his mind off of her! He bid her a good
night and headed out of the kitchen, his hands shaking.
She stood there for a minute,
relieved he had gone. “Keep him happy,
Siobhan…don’t make him angry…Mathew warned you about his anger…” she whispered
to herself, turning back to finish her cleaning.
She took a small piece of the
Wellington into her mouth and found herself thinking of how close he’d been to
her. He smelled of sandalwood and pipe
tobacco…she wanted to smell him again…but why?
Why was he so intoxicating? After
all, he was Lord Reed, the man who’d punished her when she was younger for
running through the gardens…
…
Mathew’s sister had become ill and
he had to leave the house for a few days.
Thomas spent most of his time locked away in his study, but would come
out for a meal when it was served.
Siobhan avoided eye contact at all cost, save for when he spoke directly
to her. She found herself shaking whenever his words reached her.
Finally, late on Friday evening,
he rang for her to come to the study. She dressed the best she could and headed down
to him. She’d been in bed for a few hours, but knew
she had to run to him immediately. She
hesitated at the door and then knocked with a shaking fist. As soon as she was ushered into the room, the
questions began.
“How old are you?” he began. She paused before answering. She was 19, she told him.
Hearing this, Thomas smiled. His smile was cold and calculating…and it
scared her.
“Siobhan…you left these burned
scones for me to eat while I work… how the fuck am I supposed to eat this garbage?!”
he screamed, throwing the platter at her.
It hit her in the head and she dropped to the ground, grabbing at her
forehead. The sudden change in his
demeanor terrified her. He walked across
the room and squatted down in front of her.
She panicked when he reached towards her, and the tears began to
fall.
“Sir, my Lord, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” she sobbed, protecting her
face from his hands. He pulled her hands
down and examined the gash that the platter had left.
“Forgive me if it scars…” he
whispered, his breath ragged. It was all
he said before threading his fingers through her long black hair. She was still crying, and he was still
ignoring her emotions.
Siobhan’s eyes darted around,
until they rested on the crotch of his pants.
There was a bulge in his trousers.
She tried to pull away the moment she saw it. Had hurting her caused him to be aroused? Mathew was right; he was a monster!
He held her fast and stood up,
dragging her with him as he walked swiftly to the bookshelf. He pressed a book into the back and a hidden
door swung open.
“Siobhan, let me get one thing
clear! I am a very wealthy man. I have no
problem making you disappear,” he said coldly.
A chill ran down her spine as she
realized the door was closing behind her.
He threw her against the floor and
lit the gas lamps to illuminate the room.
A torture chamber? She screamed
out and tried for the door, but his hand slapped against her face. Mixing with
the pain the gash was already causing, she dropped back down to the floor.
“Please! Please, Thomas, please don’t do this! I’m a Christian!” she sobbed, grabbing at his
pant legs.
“So, now you call me Thomas? You’re such a stupid little girl…you are just a little girl, aren’t you? A Christian…I’ve no need for such
foolishness. Pain and pleasure are the
only things I bow to now. Kneel in front
of me, your back to me,” he ordered.
With shaking legs, she did as she
was told. She heard him unsheathe a
blade, but didn’t dare look back towards him.
He used the blade to slice through
the back of her dressing gown and groaned when he finally saw the entire milky
perfection of her skin. Thomas bent down
behind her, tracing his fingers over her flesh, relishing in the bumping of her
skin once more.
“My Lord, please…I can’t…let me
leave. I won’t ask for references…I’ll just
go back to Ireland. Please don’t do this
to me!” she begged, clawing at him to let go of her. He started laughing and pulled her close to
him.
“You’re mine. You won’t need
references because you’re never going to leave me. Now, this is going to hurt…” he seethed,
wrapping his fingers around her slender throat.
She gasped for air, but felt the
darkness enveloping her. As soon as she
was out, he carried her to the table and strapped her down with her back facing
up.
“You have no idea what you’ve done
to me…just by being at arm’s length…” he whispered, brushing her long black
curls away from her shoulders.
Pure, unadulterated flesh, just
waiting to be ruined by him. He made
sure she was strapped in tight and took a look at the stove.
A branding iron had been heating
up in the coals for an hour or so and it was ready to be used. He’d used it before on countless women. A bold “R” would be forever branded on
Siobhan’s body. The thought of it caused
a painful bulge in his pants. A flame of
lust erupted in him as he grabbed its handle, enjoying the weight in his
hands. He took a deep breath and pressed
the hot steel against her skin, almost having an orgasm as her screams bounced
off the walls of his torture room.
She soon passed out from the pain
and left him alone with her body; to look at and explore as he chose. Once he centered the iron again, he kissed
the area gently. Then he lifted the iron
and placed it gently, yet firm against her skin once more for a perfect
branding.
The moment the white hot iron
touched her, Siobhan snapped awake and let out a blood curdling scream. Thomas held her down, loving the thrashing
and screaming coming from the small frame beneath him. Finally, she calmed down, and he realized she’d
passed out again. He dressed the searing
and let her rest for a while as he prepared for their first, but definitely not
last, scene.
He set up the leather-covered
horse and made sure the silver restraints were tight and ready to hold
her. He shivered with excitement as he
laid the paddle down, loving the thought of it soon accosting her flesh. A beating would be more than enough for the
first night. Soon, he was ready to wake
his new toy up.
“Siobhan… wake up, girl. It’s time for you to please me,” Thomas
ordered, his hands trembling in anticipation.
She opened her eyes, fear erasing
her grogginess. “My Lord…please. Please don’t kill me…”
“Kill you? No, no child…I’m going to shatter you. You won’t die…not while I need you,” he
explained, lifting her from the table.
She was so light; so frail. He laid her against the horse and smiled when
she let him bend her to the right position with no argument, physical or
otherwise. He strapped her in and ran
his fingertips over her skin, contemplating if the sound that emanated from her
lips was a moan or a cry.
Once she was locked in completely,
he lifted the paddle and let it slide against her ass. She shivered and bit her lip. There was a mirror in front of her and her
eyes were fixed on him, stained with tears.
He smiled at her as he brought the
paddle down, laughing at her scream. It
was refreshing to hear her slight voice.
The whores he’d used in India were all spent; jaded hags. Most of their pain or pleasure was acting,
and poor acting at that. He continued to
paddle her ass, waiting until her beaten flesh was close to bleeding before he
stopped. She was sobbing to the point of
nausea and dropped her head dejectedly.
“You’ll learn to love this, Siobhan. You’ll learn to beg me to beat you. I’ll bring you to the brink and back,” he
whispered, dropping to his knees behind her.
“Please…” she whispered again,
looking at him from the mirror. Some of
the spark in her eyes had dimmed.
He looked up into her reflection. “I won’t let you go,” he said pointedly.
She shook her head. “No, that’s
not what I want. You promised pain and pleasure, yet you’ve only caused me
pain,” she moaned, her eyes brimming with tears. He nodded and stood back up.
“We can’t have that, can we?” he
decided, running his hands against her ass.
She shivered again, but didn’t speak.
Once his pants were unzipped and his cock was out, she realized just
what road he was heading down.
“I… I want to make you happy, my
Lord,” she whispered.
He snapped his head up to look at
her. “You’re a virgin, yes?” he
asked.
She nodded, and a deep ruby blush
spread across her cheeks.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
“You’re already mine. It’s your duty to serve me.”
“Yes, Sir. Mathew taught me to obey you. He…” She
stopped short, realizing she wasn’t supposed to tell him.
“He what?” Thomas snapped.
She took a deep breath. “He told me to keep you happy…to not anger
you. He said…he said that if I angered you…”
“That I’d kill you? I’d kill you if you made me angry?” he answered
her, smiling darkly. She nodded and
looked away from him. If she’d angered
him, would he kill her right there?
He pressed against her from
behind, his cock rock hard as she crunched her eyes closed.
She wasn’t ready for this. This was supposed to be sacred, between a
husband and wife.
He leaned down and caressed the
bandage over her branding. Pressing
against her body, she could feel his warmth and relished in it. She could smell the sandal wood and pipe
tobacco again and found herself leaning to smell him.
“You want this,” he whispered, his
lips brushing her back.
She nodded before she knew she was
doing it and heard him take a deep breath.
He stood up, running his fingers against her body as he moved.
“I want this, Sir,” she replied,
her eyes still filled with tears, but determined.
“Good girl. Now, will I take your virginity with my cock,
or one of my implements?” he asked,
motioning for her to look at the wall of toys behind him. She started crying, straining against her
cuffs.
“Please, Sir, please don’t take it
with those! Don’t take that away from
me,” she whimpered, turning away from him.
He wouldn’t take it away from her, or from him. He wanted to be her first, possibly her
only. Thomas undid his suspenders and
removed his shirt, gauging her reactions.
She’d clearly never seen a naked man before. It made him happy, and a bit proud, to be her
first on so many levels. Try as he might
to keep his emotions at bay, he couldn’t help but smile when her eyes popped
open as he took his cock out. Siobhan
turned away when she realized he was watching her, and tried to hide her
face. She wanted him to kiss her, but
she knew she couldn’t ask. He wasn’t the
kind of man that would do that.
“Did you know that the same nerve
receptors that deal with fear can sometimes deal with arousal? If I’m correct, you’ll be dripping like a
wanton for me,” he explained, slipping his finger just inside of her, gingerly
touching her tender bud. She cried out,
trying to pull away.
“Does this hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head no.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes… yes, Sir,” she sighed,
closing her eyes. He dipped two fingers
against her this time, massaging her clit to hear the music of her quiet
moans. Thomas stood up and used her
juices to coat his cock before positioning himself right behind her. She was ready.
“Tell me what you want,” he
seethed, pulling her up by her hair so he could look her in the eyes.
“Anything to keep you-”
“No! You fucking tell me or so help me Siobhan, I will destroy you.”
“That’s… I want… take me,” she
gasped, shaking visibly. He took his
cock and rubbed it against her tender mound.
She arched her back again ever so slightly, but kept her eyes closed.
He smiled and pressed harder
against her. The obstruction of her virtue
was nothing against his arousal and he was soon inside of her to the hilt of
his manhood.
Siobhan cried out, at the same struggling
against the restraints. He moaned her
name, letting out a dark, guttural groan.
He started thrusting hard, using the leather horse for leverage.
“It hurts!” She cried, thrashing again.
“And it will until you’re used to me.
Here…” he said, caressing her ass and slowing his thrusts.
The difference in tempo slowly brought
her to a comfortable level and before she knew it, a pressure was growing
within her. She could feel her heart
beating faster and knew she wouldn’t be able to last too long. Was this the climax that the other servants
had talked so lewdly about? To think
that it was her Lord that was bringing it out of her.
He grunted with each thrust,
heading towards his own orgasm. He could
feel the change within her; she was enjoying it. He marveled at the change in the girl beneath
him and slapped her ass hard. The crack
echoed against the stone walls and she froze.
The next sound that came from her lips was music to his ears.
“Thank you, Sir…” she moaned,
arching her back in earnest as her orgasm overtook her. He came hard, emptying himself inside of
her.
“There’s so much more I’m going to
teach you, beautiful,” he whispered, breathing hard and lying against the
heaving girl beneath him. He looked up
into her eyes in the mirror and chuckled as he saw the spark in her eyes and
then some. He’d begun to break her, and
she’d begun to love it.
