A Regency Domination

At his words and his deep thrusts, her eyes started to roll back.

"There, that's your magic spot, Millie, which only I am allowed to touch." His movements became more frenzied as he panted over her. He began to grope and play with her breasts again, letting his shoulders support the weight of her legs.

As he pinched her nipples, she started shaking, her features torn between agony and pleasure, until she climaxed again, clenching his cock so tight that he barely had time to pull out before he came all over her again.

"You are such a good girl, little mouse," he said approvingly. "Such a good little whore."

He moved to kiss her cheeks and noticed they were wet with tears. And then he suddenly got up and backed away from her, discomfited with what he had done. Looking at her, covered in his seed, body wracking with silent sobs, he suddenly felt that he had never seen someone he wanted more in his life. Her shock and pain were a powerful aphrodisiac, and he wanted to fuck her all day until he bred her...

...But he could not. Millicent was a gently bred lady of dubious parentage. Too lowly to be his wife, but too good to be his mistress.

"I-" he paused, going over what to say while he deliberately flattened his tone. "That is to say, you should perhaps clean yourself as best you can and rejoin everyone after a few minutes. I will tell them I was unable to find you and enclose myself in my study."

Without sparing her a second glance, he turned and walked away, before he could go back and take her a third time.

***

After a week of pleading illness to avoid everyone, Millicent had finally been coerced into attending her family's rout.

Ever since that day that George - the man she had trusted as much as her uncle - had taken her so brutally, she had been unable to eat, jumping at shadows and feeling wretched. It turned out that dreaming about being the heroine of a gothic novel who was ravished by a handsome villain, and actually being ravished, were two very different things. She felt soiled and impure, ashamed and small. But most of all, she felt angry, so very angry at George for having done that to her, and then to have turned around and walked away without a backwards glance. And so very angry at herself, for she realised now that she was in love with him.

Perhaps she had been, all along, from the day they first met and he had been unfailingly kind. Perhaps it had happened during all those evenings when he asked her to dance so she would not spend the entire ball glued to the wall. Or perhaps it was the day he took her so forcibly, making her enjoy every depraved thing that he did to her.

He would never propose to you, my dear, Aunt Poppy's voice scoffed inside her head. You are but an unfortunate product of an illicit union, doomed to stay on the fringes of society, always looking in, but never participating.

Thank you, Aunt, she thought, gloomily, and once again wished she could escape the rout. At least her friend was lost in her own thoughts again and did not require her to make small talk.

"Millie!" Vivian said suddenly, as if summoned back to reality. "Do you remember the wicked books we found in my brother's study?"

Millicent looked about agitatedly, fearing that George would materialise out of thin air and expose their moment of passion to the world. Realising that Vivian was staring, she quickly said, "Do you mean the ones on geography?"

Her friend looked like she was considering committing her to Bedlam. "I was not aware geography can be wicked, but I actually meant-"

"Shhhhh," Millicent said loudly, before noticing that Vivian's brooding fiancé was making his way towards them. "He's coming," she said, feeling very glad for the distraction.

Good, now she could allow her self-pity to wash over her while the couple quarrelled despite their obvious attraction to each other. She turned away from them, downing what appeared to be her fourth glass of champagne, desperately hoping to find some clarity at the bottom of the flute.

"-You may not!"

Through the fog of her thoughts, she heard Vivian turn Sir Phillip down and start to walk away, only for him to glare angrily and chase after her. She snorted in spite of herself. Something like that was never bound to happen to her.

"What are you smiling so ruefully at, little mouse?"

Her breath hitched as he descended upon her, looking devastatingly handsome in his all black evening attire that matched his eyes, and his golden waistcoat which matched his hair.

He plucked the empty flute out of her grasp and handed it to a passing waiter. "You look beautiful tonight. Come, let us dance so I can show you off."

"I would rather not," she returned, stiffly.

"Do you want me to force you again, Millie? For I very much want to." His teeth gleamed as he smiled predatorially. And there it was, the promise of utter, complete ruination that awaited her if she gave in.

She hurriedly got up. "I think my aunt needs me," she said, and all but ran away from him, wishing he would give chase like a lovelorn suitor, but knowing that he would not.

...

Her aunt did not need her. In fact, her aunt had very much desired to introduce Minerva to a bevy of eligible beaux without the spectre of her bastard spinster niece looming over them. Which was why, an hour later, Millicent was soaking in a hot bath in her room alone, having dismissed her maid. She had done her duty to her uncle by being at the rout, and now she could go back to her separate existence.

With a gentle click, the door to her bedchamber opened.

"Rosy," she called out, without turning. "I told you I am more than capable of bathing myself!"

"Regardless," an amused and horribly familiar voice stated, "let me help."

Her breath hitched as George strode into sight, and her nerves started to balk again.

"Leave m-my room n-now," she said in agitation.

He sat down in a chair in front of her, drinking her in with his fathomless eyes. There was no warmth in his face, no hint of a smile. Still gazing at her, he started to take off his shoes, then his clothes, the muscles of his arms rippling with every move. He took the pile and laid it neatly on the chair, before stalking towards her like a wolf does its pray.

She blushed all over, colour suffusing her pale skin, as he knelt beside her and extended a hand to stroke her hair.

"So soft," he whispered, "so beautiful. You won't fight me, will you, Mousy Millie?"

His dark gaze held a hint of the barely restrained brutality that he could unleash upon her any second. The menace he exuded was enough to cow her.

She shook her head, wishing he would tire of this game and leave her alone, but he only smiled.

"Good little whore." Lathering his hands with soap, he rubbed her back, and then massaged her shoulders, before letting them trail over her collarbones, making her shiver. His hands groped her breasts and kneaded them.

"Lie back," he urged. Once she had, his fingers traced the outline of every curve, gently making their way down until he touched her there.

"George, you cannot do this, n-not again," she said, feeling wretched and wanton at the same time.

"Your reluctance is noted," he said, before pushing his finger inside her, making her gasp.

"P-please, I am s-serious!" Her stuttering was getting worse, extending beyond the usual m's and n's.

"And what will you do, little mouse? Scream?" His smile was suddenly cruel. They both knew she could not do it, for regardless of who was at fault, she would be ruined. No one would believe her, not even her family. Especially not her family. She would be accused of attempting to seduce the son of an Earl, just like her mother had seduced the son of a Viscount.

He coolly assessed her, nodding once he was certain she knew of her precarious position. "Get up, whore."

She rose from the bath, water trickling down the valley of her breasts and pooling around her most private area as she attempted to hide it all from his hungry gaze.

The look of anticipation and amusement in his eyes was almost sickening, like he was enjoying toying with her.

He rinsed her with fresh water, and then wrapped her in a towel, sweeping her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"Geo-"

"Shh," he said, leading her to bed, "you and I are going to play a little game now." His voice had taken on the same commanding, strangled tone as in the greenhouse. He was no longer the George she was used to but... this other monster.

"A g-ga-game?"

His eyes glinted. "Yes, one where I will have my way with you, and you will try your very best to be quiet, lest the world finds out what we are doing. Do you understand?"

She nodded, gulping.

"Good girl, turn around and get on your knees," he ordered softly.

Heart thumping, she did as he said. There was a brief rip, and then he was tying her hands behind her back with some sort of fabric.

"I am so glad you have seen my collection of books, little mouse," he said from behind her, his voice chilling her neck, "for now I do not have to hide my proclivities from you. Instead, I get to experience my most wicked fantasies, and oh, Millie, they are so much more delicious when you scream and fight me."

She shivered as she remembered the drawings. There was one featuring a girl in exactly the same position as she was now. A shirtless man had stood in front of her, some sort of whip trailing down her back while he fed her his... his tool.

Almost as though he could hear her thoughts, he folded his belt and gently smacked her back, making her jump.

"Do you like that, you filthy whore?"

She shook her head in protest.

Smack.

This blow landed harder, between the blades of her shoulder, and she had to bite her lip very hard to hold in her scream.

He circled her, letting the belt trail over her shoulder before he came to face her, and then, with a flick of his wrist, he hit her right on her nipple.

This time she really did scream, and his smile widened. "You make me so hard when you do that, Millie."

Eyes full of terror, she watched his cock as it sprang to attention, jutting out at her.

He slapped it across her face, making her flinch. "Open your mouth, stick your tongue out."

"G-go to h-hell," she hissed, only to be backhanded by him.

The blow stung and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

He pulled her head back again, shoving his cock near her lips. "Let's try again."

She allowed her lips to part and extended her tongue beyond them.

He tapped his cock over her tongue, its taste and scent assaulting her senses. "Open wide now, little mouse. If you can suck me good enough, I might not fuck you tonight."

With vigour, she did as he commanded and took his cock in. She swivelled her tongue over the head and, seeing him suck in a breath sharply, proceeded to stroke it down his length.

But that was not enough for him. Grabbing tightly onto her hair, he began to thrust wildly into her mouth, until he might as well have been fucking her face. Spit drooled down her chin as he mercilessly hit the back of her throat, making her gag.

She tried to protest but breathing was becoming difficult and her vision was swimming. And then...

Smack.

His belt descended upon her buttocks, making her scream around his cock. Inside her mouth, his cock twitched, and he hit her again. He hit her harder every time until she was red all over and squealing from the sensation, and then, finally satisfied, he threw the belt away.

He leaned down and devoured her mouth with his own.

In her struggle to get away, with her hands still tied, she fell on her side and started to whimper. She was hurting all over but she also wanted him to take things further, to push her beyond her limits. She had never felt this thrill before - where she did not know if the next thing she would experience would be pleasure or pain, and the ache inside her belly stretched thin, taut with tension.

He turned her so she was on her back, making her hands strain. His palms began to roughly handle her breasts, squeezing them hard and playing with her nipples, causing her breathing to quicken. His mouth sucked at the skin between her neck and shoulder, licks turning into bites as he grew harsher. "You like it when I hurt you, don't you, whore?"

"George-"

He cuffed her again, making her bite her tongue, filling her mouth with a metallic taste.

Eyes blazing, he lined up against her and breached her quim, right as his fingers tugged firmly at her nipples.

Tears started to stream down her face as he began to fuck her mercilessly. "George, why are you tormenting m-me this way?" And why did she like it so much?

"Millie, oh my dear Millie!" His whispers were a gentle caress in stark contrast to the brutal way in which he was pumping in and out of her. "You look so beautiful when you submit to me."

His hips swivelled just so and she screamed in the pleasure-pain. His fingers wrapped around her throat and he squeezed to block her air and cut off her screaming. "Shhh, little mouse. If they hear you and come, I will not be able to stop. I am not done with you yet."

Her nails scraped at his wrists and he laughed cruelly, before pulling out of her canal and flipping her over so that she was leaning forwards. He pushed her down, shoving her face into the rug until she could not emit a sound, and then entered her again, groaning as she clenched around him.

In her belly, the tension had tautened and stretched until it was razor-thin, holding her captive on the precipice of her release. He then spanked her globes and she splintered into a thousand pieces, spasming from her climax.

With a grunt, he pulled out of her clenching canal and she felt ropes of his seed fall on her hands and back.

Ashamed and bereft, she did not attempt to look while he got up and left, only to come back with what seemed like a washcloth with which he cleaned her. The soft, cool touch of the cloth against her heated skin felt soothing and she moaned at how gentle he was being again. And then he untied her and took her into his arms, tucking her head against his chest.

"Shh, Millie," he said, voice soothing as he wiped the tears from her face. "Do not cry. I did not breed you. You are fine. I have been beastly, have I not? Say you do not hate me, Millie. Please, for I could not stand it if you did."

She tilted her head up to look at the man who had hurt her so badly, but whom she inexplicably loved. It was so hard to say no when he was acting like her old George. She closed her eyes, trying to stop more tears from spilling. "I could n-n-never hate you, George."

He planted soft kisses across her brow, then upon her lids, and then her nose, before gently kissing her mouth. "Good girl. Now come, sleep."

He carried her to bed and tucked her in carefully, gazing at her with eyes that suddenly looked so loving. His care and affection were a potent drug.

"George?"

"Yes, my beautiful little mouse?"

"Will you - stay with me for a while? Just until I sleep?"

Eyes crinkling, he got into bed with her and enveloped her, finger tracing circles on her belly. "Insomnia still bothering you, my pet?"

She nodded, wanting to tell him that she felt better around him at times like these - like she could safely fall asleep without any harm coming to her. But before the words spilled from her lips, before she could tell him how very much she loved him, a deep slumber overtook her.