A Regency Domination Pt. 02

George tapped his feet agitatedly, eyeing his pocket watch. It was midnight already. Millicent was late.

The last month had been torture, seeing his little mouse everywhere, but being unable to touch her. She had grown wise since he last took her in her uncle's home. She stayed in large groups and sought the spotlight more than ever before, all so he could not wrench her into the shadows with him.

But she would no longer be able to avoid him, for Vivian had asked her to journey with them to Harfold for the wedding and she was too kind to say no. His sister had been a terrible influence on her, almost getting her arrested recently, but in this, he was thankful to the brat.

Once at Harfold, he had pulled Millicent aside and told her to meet him in his study later that night, or else risk him coming to her bedchamber again. She had nodded meekly at the time, but hours had passed, and she was still not here. He wondered irritably if she had fallen asleep due to sheer exhaustion, given how ill she seemed to look these days. Had the damn woman given up on food and sleep entirely? Did she not realise that she belonged to him now and it was her duty to ensure she was healthy and able to slake his lust?

As his thoughts grew blacker, he heard a quiet scratching on his door, before it opened to reveal her. In the dark, she was all skin and bones, her eyes seeming even larger as they gazed up at him fearfully. The nightclothes, which had hugged her curves the first time he had kissed her, now hung loose over her frame and she looked smaller, more fragile.

Tamping down on his fury, he regarded her impassively. "You are late."

"I'm sorry," she had not yet started to stammer, but already her fear was palpable, a potent aphrodisiac that made his cock throb with need. "I was with Viv till she slept."

"I will let you make up for your wrongs, Millie," he said. "Get down on your knees."

Almost as though her body had given up on supporting her meagre weight, she dropped to the floor and began to crawl towards him.

"You look hungry, little mouse. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head.

"Nevertheless, you shall eat. And I know just what to serve you for the first course."

He pulled out his cock and grabbed her hand, forcing her to touch him, to stroke him up and down as he groaned. His other hand moved towards her face, but she flinched away.

"Please, do n-not hurt m-me," she stuttered.

"But you have been a bad girl, Millie, and you need to be punished."

Pressing his fingers into her cheeks, he forced her mouth open and stuffed his cock inside without preamble. He had waited too long for her and was not of a mood to be gentle.

"Take it all in, as deep as you can go," he commanded.

She was not able to reach more than halfway so he grabbed her hair and thrust deep inside, hitting the back of her throat. The way it gagged and clenched around his cock caused a twinge of pain but so, so much pleasure. He wondered if this is how she felt when he was ploughing her. Perhaps more pain than pleasure. The very notion made him even harder.

Swearing under his breath, he pulled his cock out and smacked it across her face, making her gasp. Still clutching her hair, he forced her to stand and then dragged her back to a chair, where he sat, drawing her closer until his legs rubbed against her inner thigh. He heaved and she was splayed upon him, the juices from her hot cunt seeping over him.

"Lower yourself onto me," he urged.

When she resisted, he physically pulled her up and pushed her down onto his cock.

With a soft cry, she fell forwards to muffle herself against his shoulder. He began to thrust under her, encouraging her to move along with him, and after a brief pause, she started to follow.

"Just like that," he hissed, "ride me like the whore you are."

This made her stop and, enraged, he slapped her face. "I said ride me!"

Eyes shining with unshed tears, she started to move again, her small body moving atop him with awkwardness mingled with desperation.

He tugged her banyan and then her chemise off and sucked in a breath at her naked body. Even with the weight she had lost, her plump breasts bounced with each thrust.

His hands grabbed them, feeling their pliant cushiness give way as he squeezed, drawing a cry from her. He kissed her mouth with hard, wanton need, tongue probing at hers. "I know you like this, little mouse. Show me how eager you are for my cock."

She kissed him back in despair as her hands moved towards the buttons of his shirt, pulling at them until a few tore loose.

He spanked her arse, causing her to squeal into his mouth. "That was my favourite shirt, Millie," he said, biting at her lips angrily.

She gasped, her movements becoming frantic and uneven as she started to chase her climax.

"That's right, fuck my hard cock, you dirty whore," he said, thrusting up in tandem with her motions. "Tell me how much you love it."

"I love fucking your hard cock!" she breathed frantically as he nipped the skin at her collarbone. "I love it. Oh George - I'm so close - oh!"

And then she collapsed upon him, shaking and clenching, but he was not done. Pulling her off his body, he pushed her to the floor roughly and entered her again, fingers digging painfully into her body. "You do not come until I give you permission to, Millie."

She held on to him for dear life as he ruined her cunt, her fingernails raking his skin and leaving scratches. He could tell she was close again.

"Please George," she begged. "I n-n-need to come."

"Not yet," he growled, wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing. "Not until you tell me to fuck you harder."

"Ahhh," she moaned, "fuck m-me harder, George, please."

"You are my fuck doll, my whore."

She nodded. "Yes, your whore. Please George, I'm so close!"

"Come for me, little mouse," he said then, rotating his hips so he hit her deepest spot, and she came with a shudder, weeping as wave after wave of ecstasy threatened to overwhelm her.

She was so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at her. He clenched his eyes shut at the overwhelming pleasure threatening to rip him apart, until it did, and he spent himself at her opening, unable to pull out in time.

She gazed down in horror. "Is this - will I -?"

"No, shh," he hushed her, "we'll clean you right up. Just... give me a minute to catch my breath, little mouse."

Her body, all knees and elbows, was not a comfortable resting place, so he got up and cleaned her with his kerchief. And then he propped her up, dressing her in her clothes as though she were his doll to play with, which he supposed she was.

I have tamed you and claimed you as my own, and now I am responsible for you.

"Come," he said sternly.

She trembled as he opened the door to the study and the cool air hit her heated body. "Where are you taking m-me?"

"To the kitchen, to fix you something to eat, and I swear to God, Millicent, if you ever neglect your health again, there will be hell to pay."

***

Dear Reader

As Spring approaches, so do the nuptials of Lady Vivian Applefield with Sir Phillip Musgrave, "and not a moment too soon!" her father was heard to exclaim. After all, just last Monday, he was forced to intercede when the Constabulary attempted to arrest both her and Miss Millicent St Vincent for staging a protest outside Parliament.

The two ladies were safely bundled off to the Applefield estate in the quiet countryside the next day. There, it is hoped that they will hold off on further mischief at least until the wedding. The ceremony is expected to be small, attended only by the closest friends and family of the bride and groom, but worry not, Dear Reader, for this author will hunt down all the details and present them for your edification one way or another.

In other news...

Mr James Rawls stopped reading the ridiculous tattle sheet and chuckled in spite of himself. He had followed the two ladies' antics since his Oxford days, when Phillip had forced him to read Mary Wollstonecraft together so as to impress the notorious Lady Vivian. And while the red-haired firebrand had found a permanent space in his friend's heart, his own thoughts would frequently stray towards her friend. The seemingly quiet wallflower who existed on the fringes of society at parties, but who was fiercely outspoken when it came to the rights of the downtrodden, reminded him of himself in so many ways. Even with only her ghastly caricatures in Mrs Pennyworth's articles to go by, he looked forward to seeing her that night.

Or perhaps their meeting would have to wait until the next day, he realised, as the carriage finally pulled up before Harfold, the stately estate of Lord Applefield.

It was egregiously late, and the house seemed dark, save for one harried looking woman at the doorstep, who introduced herself as the housekeeper, Mrs Greene, before setting off at a fast pace up the stairs, forcing him to lug his own trunk behind her.

"Your room is ready with a fire going, Sir," she said coldly. "Everyone else is already asleep, but I stayed up on account of being told you was coming."

He beamed at her most disarmingly. "Thank you, Mrs Greene. Your warm welcome has been a panacea after my harrowing journey."

She half sniffed, half smiled, unable to fully resist his warmth, and stopped on the landing of the second floor. "You are in the Blue room, Sir. 'Tis the fourth door to the right."

With a brisk nod, she turned and hurried back down, leaving him to rue not telling her that he was the cousin of a baron, and not a mere parson. Perhaps then she might have bothered to see him to his bedchamber. Charming smiles and twinkling eyes only took you so far, after all.

Struggling to dispel the exhaustion that had settled upon his mind like a fog, he walked until he reached the fourth door to the left. With a relieved exhale, he turned the knob... only to stop short.

He was in the wrong room. For starters, it was draped in shades of red, not blue. But more importantly, there was a woman in the room. A very naked woman. Blindfolded and gagged. Tied to a hook in the ceiling.

Acting on instinct, he slammed the door shut behind him to stop any busybodies from barging in.

Upon hearing the noise, the woman stood up straighter and thrust her chest out almost invitingly, her head bowed submissively. She did not make a single sound as she stood there, so very small and slim, her heavy breasts notwithstanding.

He was a priest, not a saint, and he could feel blood rushing to his cock as he drank the woman in. A small, insidious voice told him to touch her, to kiss her nipples and stroke her cunt. But better sense prevailed. Whoever she was, she was not there for him.

"Madam," he began warily, "I do not wish to scare you, but I am honour bound to announce my presence in this room, accidental though it was."

At his words, the woman gave a startled jump and started struggling frantically.

He was alarmed. "Please, I beg you not to struggle, Madam. You will come to no harm at my hands. I will remove your gag now, but pray do not scream, for the household will awaken and you will be compromised."

She sagged and nodded, allowing him to free her mouth. Her breathing was fast and shallow; she reminded him very much of a baby sparrow with an injured wing he had once found. It had quivered with distrust and fear but also understood that he was its only hope at the time. With the same gentle care as he had used on that little chick, he attempted to untie her.

"N-no," she gasped and shied away from him. "Pray leave m-me be, Sir. He will n-n-not forgive m-me for escaping his punishment."

Punishment? What sort of nefarious trap had this woman fallen into? He attempted to untie her blindfold at least, but she shook her head wildly.

"Please Sir, don't! I do n-not wish to kn-know who you are!"

Her breathing was becoming extremely shallow and she had started to shake. Sweat broke over her body as she crumpled, panting and whimpering.

Not thinking, he blanketed his body over hers.

"Shh," he said, as soothingly as he could manage while he rubbed her back in long, slow strokes, "it is all right. Just breathe. It will pass."

He tried to ignore her proximity to him, and the way her heart thrummed against his chest, making his own speed up until they seemed one and the same. This close, he could see the beauty spot on her cheek and every tiny groove of her rosebud lips.

Several minutes passed, and her breathing evened. "Thank you, Sir," she mumbled, and lightly wiggled in his grip to gain space from him.

As her pelvis ground against him, his cock, which had become flaccid in his attempt to comfort her, began to harden and lengthen again. He jumped back before she sensed his filthy thoughts.

But she must have thought he was disgusted with her instead, for her mouth quivered.

"I-" he began, only to be silenced by another shake of her head.

"Please, Sir, I beg you to gag m-me again and... leave. Please do n-not reveal your n-name. And if we meet, please pretend you do n-not recognise m-m-me."

"I understand," he said, tightly.

He wanted to stand outside her room and call out the scoundrel who had done this to her, but he did not wish to mortify her any further.

So he gently replaced her gag and returned to his own room.

The minute the door shut behind him, he pulled out his hard cock and fisted it. As his head slumped back and his eyes closed, he began to stroke himself vigorously, imagining that it was the lady's deliciously red lips that were wrapped around it instead. She was still blindfolded, but instead of fear, her face was overtaken by lust as she moaned around his cock. With a groan, he spent himself.

***

George had whipped her mercilessly last night. He could not prove it, but he smelled another man's scent on her. His little mouse was turning tricks for other men - most likely one of his own friends - and it drove him into a frenzied rage. He had taken her so harshly that she had wept around her gag but that had still not satisfied him.

So today, before the rest of the household awoke for breakfast, he clamped his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the house.

"George," she begged, "please stop! Where are you taking m-m-me?"

He turned around to glare at her. "We are going boating. That is what couples do, is it not?"

The snow had melted and the sun was shining with determination, but the lake would still be freezing. And he had half a mind to drown her in its icy depths. "Alternatively, you can tell me who you were with last night and I will go easy on you."

"I do n-not kn-know," she pleaded, tears in her eyes. "I told him to leave the m-minute he removed m-my gag, I promise you!"

"You were supposed to stand there all night and think about how naughty you had been, little mouse," he said coldly. "Not offering yourself up to strange men."

She tried to protest again but he cut her off with a brutal kiss. She did not realise that she belonged to only him, but she would. Today, he would fuck her in ways she had never even thought possible.

Instead of walking towards the open lake, he led her to the grove lining the north wall, shoving her against a tree, taking pleasure in her squeal as its rough bark scratched her bare skin. He pushed her face into the trunk, revelling in her tears.

"Do you know what happens to ladies who act like whores, little mouse?"

She whimpered.

"They are fucked just like them, too," he said, pushing up her clothes and entering her cunt without warning.

She screamed and he knew she was still sore, not just from the cruel way he had taken her last night but also the whipping.

He wanted to be gentle, but she screamed so loudly that he was forced to slap his palm over her mouth. "Just a little bit more, Millie," he said soothingly as he pushed inexorably into her tight hole. He knew it was not pleasant for her; her skin must be on fire, but that did not stop him. It only made him harder, more eager to punish her. The hand that was not stifling her had crept down to circle her throat, pulling her back so she was arching against him. He squeezed her airways until her cries of pain had turned into choked sounds, and she started to crumple.

He turned her around so her back was supported by the tree, pulling one leg up to wrap against his hip. As he entered her again, every thrust brought his pelvis into direct contact with her slit, and he knew it was driving her crazy, for her entire body was vibrating with need.

He buried his mouth in the crook of her neck, biting until he broke her skin and marked her as his. "Did your other man fuck you like this, little mouse?" he said harshly, between jagged breaths. "Did you mewl so ardently for him too?"

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she tried to mislead him with lies again, but he stopped her with a rough kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, mating wildly with her own, filling her the way his cock filled her cunt.

He could see the pleasure overtake her, in spite of herself. He knew she was starting to shake from the sensations, knew she would come if he fucked her any longer.

He tugged her down on to the grass and ghosted kisses along the hem of her bodice, revelling in her surprised gasps. This was how he kept her on the knife's edge between pleasure and pain, between anticipation and dread; he never let her know what he would do to her next.

He nibbled at her ear, before licking its shell with the tip of his tongue. "I am going to do something to you that you have never experienced, little mouse. And you will beg me to do it again and again."

His fingers started to caress her slit as she moaned, entering inside her hole and gathering as much of her wetness as they could. He found the little bundle of nerves inside her and started to rub her fiercely, allowing his thumbnail to scrape over her nub.

The combined sensation was too much for her and she climaxed, her juices coating his hands.

He pulled out and started to finger the opening of her arse.

"George, stop, what are you doing?"

"Fucking you like your other lover never did," he swore. "I can be gentle, or I can be harsh, Millie. If you admit you fucked him last night, I will forgive you."

Hatred flashed in her eyes. "I did n-nothing with him. But I wish I did. He was n-not like you; he was so kind and tender."

He snarled and slapped her face.

As her cheek flushed, she glared back at him, defiant for the first time, no longer stuttering. "You do not own me, George. I only belong to myself."

Before he could respond, her fist had clenched around a clump of dirt and thrown it in his face.

Pushing him off, she made to run, but he caught her by the ankle.

She kicked at him, but he held fast, twisting so she lost her footing and fell to the earth.

Enraged, he bore down upon her. He let his cock run over her slit for the briefest of seconds, barely coating it with juices, before entering her arse.

She screamed and arched, trying to get away, her fingernails clawing into the ground. But she was no match for the inexorable assault of his cock, as it pushed inside, despite how tightly she had clenched herself.

She was bleeding again, just like the first time he had taken her, and the thought threw him into a frenzy as he started to fuck her harder and deeper, his fingers pulling at her nipples through her dress, his teeth nipping at her nape.

"I'll teach you to disobey me," he growled, swivelling his hips so he could reach deeper. "I will fuck you so thoroughly that your arse will be gaping by the end. And then I will force my cock into your mouth and make you clean me."

Her screams turned to whimpers as she submitted to his onslaught.