A Regency Ravishment

"Please, I won't struggle!" She pleaded. "Please stop it."

There was a brief pause. Then he spanked her again, five times, in quick succession, making her bottom hot and fiery. Then his hand began to move in soothing motions over her globes, causing her skin to tingle with a mixture of pleasure and pain. She squirmed again, suddenly unsure.

"You like this, do you not?" He was mocking her. "You like being treated as a whore. Miss Anne Musgrave, country miss, spinster and prude, hiding a secret whore within her."

His humiliating words served to excite her further, making her groan. He set her upright, but before she could move, he pushed her towards the bed, causing her knees to buckle as they hit the frame. She lay back in the four-poster bed, staring up at the man scrutinising her body.

Would he touch her where she had touched herself on lonely nights? Would he make her touch him? Or would he do worse?

As her eyes met his, she realised he knew what she was thinking. He smirked. "Touch yourself for me."

For a brief moment, she hesitated.

Smack.

He hit her mound between the legs, hand brushing against her sensitive nub, both exciting and hurting her. "Don't make me repeat myself, Anne. Take your breasts in your hands."

Quickly, she brought her hands to her breasts, first holding them uncertainly and then, under his unwavering gaze, squeezing them a little. This pleased him, so she squeezed harder.

"Touch your nipples. I want you to tease them and tug them." He ordered.

Her fingers touched the tip of her nipples, and circled the areolas.

Smack.

He hit her again, this time on the side of her breast, making her gasp.

"I told you to tug at them."

Anxious, she pulled her nipples hard, elongating them.

"Look at me, whore."

So she did, losing herself in his hard gaze.

"Tell me how it feels."

"It feels -- good."

"As good as when I touched you there?" His hands were moving quickly, unbuttoning his own clothes as he loomed before her.

"No ... that was better."

He smiled. "Good girl. Now spread your legs."

"No, please, I'm embarrassed!"

"You will be more embarrassed when I call my men to force you to listen to my orders. Now, part your legs for me."

Slowly, hesitantly, her legs parted, baring her most intimate core to the Officer. For an instant, she thought he looked speechless, almost reverent as he beheld her.

Then he knelt between her legs. "It is time for me to touch you again, isn't it Anne?"

She could not bear his smirk. But she could not bear not being touched by him either. In her frustration, she moved to get up, but his hands grabbed hold of her waist and pushed her back down, fingers digging into her flesh painfully.

And then his mouth was upon her. At first, he laid little kisses on the inside of her thigh, making her squirm and want more. His tongue licked a trail upward towards her quim, licking the slit and darting in and out of her entrance. He circled her nub with his tongue, then lashed at it harshly, causing her to moan.

"Yes, keep showing your appreciation, my dear." The vibration of his voice as he spoke reverberated against her, and she squirmed again.

"Oh my God, Oliver," she panted. "What are you doing to me?"

"Fucking you with my tongue. Making you come," he answered. And with that, he stuck a long finger inside her entrance, tongue still lapping at her. His touch increased the build-up of the pressure within her, his finger scratching against a spot that made her vision blacken with its intensity.

"Come for me, Anne."

She did, screaming his name. He did not remove his mouth or finger from her, even as waves of pleasure racked over her and made her feel overstimulated.

"Please, stop, stop it's too much!"

For a brief merciful moment, he stopped licking and touching her, before moving to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue demanded entry into her mouth, forcibly parting her lips for him. She tasted her juices on his tongue as it fucked her mouth, driving her mad with lust. One hand grabbed both of hers and kept them pinned above her. The other rippled with muscles as it held his weight over her. He bit and sucked the skin of her neck hard enough to leave marks, before allowing his tongue to soothe the area. Just as he had done when he had spanked her.

Remembering her humiliation and fearing her aunt's reaction when she would notice the marks, she started to struggle again. "Please don't. Please stop here!"

He laughed and captured her lips in another kiss as his body started to fit into hers. There was a sharp pain as he entered her, but he swallowed her screams with his kisses.

"Shh, it will only hurt for a while. I'll make you feel good soon."

The sharp pain ended but a dull throbbing continued as he pumped in and out of her, rutting her relentlessly. Tears started to stream down her face and he bit down on her nipple hard. "Stop crying. I told you you'll like it."

He let go of her hands to wrap his hand around her throat. Gently but insistently, he started to suffocate her.

Tears gave way to coughing as she struggled against him, her hands first trying to pull his off, and then raking over his back to draw blood. For a merciful second, he stopped pressing down on her neck, allowing her to draw deep breaths while he continued to thrust into her. Then he started to choke her again.

Black spots danced in her vision, and the tension coiled tightly in her belly as his long member touched her in areas she did not know existed, rubbing her just so.

With a scream, she came, and her pulsating quim squeezed hard on his manhood. With a final pump, he spent himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a while, neither of them moved. And then he pushed himself up on his arms and kissed her nose gently.

"Be my mistress, Anne," he said, eyes hooded with the promise of pleasure and pain. "I want to be the only man who makes you come like this. I want you to scream my name every night. I want you to want me like I want you. Say you will have me."

Her blood ran cold. If a part of her had hoped he would marry her after compromising her thus, it was now drenched in the icy waters of the reality of the new Oliver.

"Oliver, no-"

"Shh," he whispered. "You were always too hasty with your words. Think about it. I will seek you out again and you will give me your answer then. Now come, I am not yet done with you." So saying, he pulled her back into a kiss, deep with want and longing.

***

Three weeks later, Anne sat beside her aunt, bored witless by the chatter of the matrons around her. She did not know why she still attended these events. It was not as though gentlemen were lining up to ask her to dance.

But she was a dutiful niece to her surrogate parent, and if her aunt wanted to dress in her fineries and exchange polite talk with her peers, then as the mother of a Baronet, it was her right. And the least Anne could do was accompany her. It would be her penance for having avoided both her and Phillip for so many days.

Speaking of Phillip, her cousin was walking towards her, looking glum. "I fetched you a lemonade. You too, Mother."

She took it with a smile. "What's the matter? Miss Dalton did not have a free dance to give you today again?"

His expression darkened. "That is not what vexes me and you know it."

Aunt Primrose looked confused as she took her lemonade. "What's that, dear?"

"Ha ha ha ha, Phillip, you do make me laugh." Anne injected her voice with as much false joviality as she could. "Come, let us take a turn about the room. We will find you a worthy heiress yet!"

Clearly torn between disgruntlement and the inability to say no to women of his family, Phillip allowed himself to be led away. "I say, old girl, the offer to marry still stands. Especially after..."

"Phillip!" She admonished. "We promised never to speak of it!"

"You did not leave your bed for weeks," he said hotly. "What if you are with child? You must let me make things right, cousin. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"Phillip please," she whispered fiercely. "I was in bed for days because I was ... indisposed. I am not with child."

God help her, but she would go to Hell for lying to her family. She had not bled yet since her encounter with Oliver. But she was only a week late and she refused to let fear dictate her life. She smiled at him. "I will not have you throw away your chance at making a love match."

"I love you, Anne. I swear it, I do!"

"Not the way a man should love a woman, Phillip," she sighed. "Please, let us not talk of this anymore. I have avoided you all this time just to shield myself from this conversation. Please, let us go back to the way things used to be."

He looked petulant, like he had been when he was twelve and she had smacked him round the head for trying to prank his governess. "You should have let me challenge him to a duel."

At this, she burst into peals of laughter. "Oh, you foolish boy. I would be utterly ruined and you would lose a limb, or worse. Let your elderly cousin be, dear. And do try to enjoy the ball. Oh, Miss Graham!"

The young lady in question had wandered over to where they stood. She curtsied prettily, then met Phillip's eyes and looked away, blushing furiously.

"It is a wonderful night for dancing, is it not, Miss Musgrave?" Miss Graham said, equal parts earnest and shy.

"Indeed, and do you like to dance?" Anne inquired.

Miss Graham's eyes shone. "Oh yes, very much indeed." Her eyes looked at Phillip again and she turned red once more.

"Well, what a happy coincidence! My young cousin here loves to dance too, especially with such pleasing young ladies!" Anne was quite enjoying playing the role of a matchmaking mama, even though Phillip was now glaring at her incredulously. "Go on then, Phillip!"

"Ah, I'm not in the mood to dance, I'm afraid," he responded, frowning mightily.

She had to hand it to her cousin, for someone with features decidedly unsuited to brooding, he still insisted on doing it a lot. She nudged him forward, murmuring, "Don't be a dolt, Phillip. Remember your gentlemanly duty."

Rolling his eyes, he bowed before Miss Graham. "Would you do me the honour of this dance?"

To her credit, the young lady did not bristle at his obvious reluctance. Flashing him a wonderful smile, she acquiesced and gently put her hand on his.

"Be sure to escort her to her mama afterwards, Phillip!" Anne called out.

Phillip grunted something that could have been a yes but could also easily have been a swear word. For the sake of his dancing companion, Anne hoped it was the former.

She contented herself with sipping her lemonade slowly, taking in the splendour of the ball. A small, sad smile took over her face.

"Remembering the days when you used to be the belle of the ball, Anne?"

With a startle, she spilt her lemonade on her dress. But as it seeped into the fine muslin and ruined it, all she could think about was the man in front of her. Oliver. Again.

She gulped. "What are you doing here?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking at the mess on her dress and then back at her face. "Why, looking for a wife who will bear me an heir, of course. Miss Dalton looks a lot like you when you were younger, does she not? Don't worry though, I will not let having a wife come in the way of ravishing you every night."

Ah, yes. The reminder that she was now plain and had zero prospects in life. And that eligible bachelors like Wentworth would marry young Incomparables while she would have to make do with being a mistress, if that. She forced her voice to remain cool. "It seems you are all out of luck, there. Her dance card fills up within the first ten minutes of her entering the ballroom."

The orchestra struck the beginnings of a waltz. His lips turned upward in that maddening smirk of his. "Pity. Guess I'll have to make do with you. Dance with me."

"I most certainly will not!" She shot back.

"It was not a question, Anne. Or do you want me to punish you for disobeying my order again?"

Flushing from the memory of his punishment, she mutely allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist and grasp her other hand.

His grip was vice-like and unyielding. He pulled her close to him, closer than the other couples, bordering on indecency.

"Oliver please! I cannot dance with you in this fashion. Please let us wait for the minuet."

"Why not this one? It's not like anyone else is lining up to take my place."

She flushed. He was right. He was a man in his prime and she was of no consequence. And yet, he was gazing at her so intensely, a steely fire scalding her with his eyes. Making her stumble while she tried to get her bearing.

He tutted. "You have grown rusty, my darling. Come, let us go outside to save you from further embarrassment."

She tried to resist but his grip only tightened, digging into her flesh.

"Or we could stand here, wait for your fool of a cousin to notice us together and challenge me publicly."

"No!" Frustrated, she gave in to his pull and let him lead her towards the French doors and outside. The gardens were vast and unlit. She could hear vague sounds of giggles and moans. She flushed, realising what these other couples were doing in the secrecy of the night.

He dragged her to a dark corner and pushed her roughly against a pillar. In the dark, only his eyes gleamed, lit by the moonlight.

"That is enough, Oliver," she said, sounding braver than she felt. "You cannot force me like this."

His hand wrapped around her throat, thumbing her pulse. "Shut up, woman. I will do what I want to you. I will force you, leaving you feeling as helpless as you left me ten years and three months ago. I will degrade you, humiliate you, like you humiliated me. I will force you to crave me and love me, and then I will leave you."

Horrified, she began to struggle. But something about his words had a dangerous impact on her body. She could feel arousal pooling in her insides as he pressed his hard length against her.

"Struggle all you want, Anne. I will have you. Again and again, as many times as I wish. I will make you scream my name."

She started to feel hot all over, her nipples stiffening at his words. Her body was betraying her.

As if he could tell, he smiled. "Reveal yourself to me."

Wordlessly, she began to undo the laces of her bodice as best she could.

His hungry gaze took her in, eyes following the trail his fingers blazed over her body. He pulled her breasts out from her stays, letting his palms support their weight.

She sucked in her breath as he bowed his head to suckle her, tongue lavishing over first one, then the other, nipple. Gently, he nibbled at her, causing her to moan. He smothered her mouth with his hand, cutting off her air supply. Her struggles only made his smile widen.

Her legs went limp from the lack of air and she started to crumple, but he caught her in his strong arms. "I will enjoy you whether you are conscious or not," he warned. "I suggest you keep this in mind unless you want to wake up sprawled on the grass, hours after your aunt first notices you missing."

"You wouldn't," she gasped.

He slapped her breasts, making her gasp again. "You do not know what I would or would not do to you anymore. Now kneel."

Quivering from his words and the cool night air on her exposed breasts, she fell to her knees.

"Unbutton my trousers."

"Surely you must be out of your mind!"

Slap.

This time, he had hit her face. "Do not make me repeat myself, whore."

She immediately went to work on his buttons, fumbling as she attempted to undo them.

He casually stroked the side of her face where he had slapped her. The threat was clear. He would hit her again if she did not comply. She was his to ruin.

At last, she freed him from the confines of his trousers. His manhood stood erect, dark and menacing.

"Hold it."

For a second, her eyes flew to meet his, her shock giving way to horror when she saw the look of pure lust distorting his face. He pulled his hand back as if to hit her again, but she quickly grabbed on to his member.

It was smoother to the touch than she had expected, almost velvety. Transfixed, she tightened her grip, feeling wonderment as he groaned softly.

"You can play with it, Anne."

She pulled her hand back and forth, watching the skin travel over his manhood with ease. A drop of white was visible on the tip.

"Kiss it."

She was disgusted and fascinated in equal measure. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and planted a chaste peck on his tip. The drop of white liquid clung to her lips and she accidentally licked them, letting the saltiness linger on her tongue.

He groaned again, his features contorting until he almost reminded her of his younger self. "You will be the death of me, Anne."

"Oliver, I-"

"Quiet!" His dispassionate mask was back. "Take me in your mouth."

Eager to avoid punishment, she opened her mouth to take him in. She felt more of the saltiness and let her tongue flick the tip of his manhood.

"That's right. You like sucking my cock, don't you, whore?"

She shut her eyes and tried to shake her head, but he stopped her.

"No teeth," he warned, "or I'll be forced to knock them out of your mouth. Maybe then you might entice a man to take you as a lover, my darling."

Humiliated, she kept his manhood - his cock - in her mouth, not moving at all, until he gripped her head and started forcing her to bob up and down. He was fucking her face, his cock hitting the back of her, making her gag. "Touch yourself, whore."

Her hands moved of their own accord to her nipples, tugging and pinching them, making her moan against his cock.

"Swirl your tongue around, show my cock how much you worship it."

Her tongue moved up and down his length, and then in circles. The many times he had made her gag had led to her spit coating his member, making it easier to slip in her mouth.

He tugged her head back and started to push even deeper. She tried to resist but was met with another smack. His cock reached her throat, and then went deeper.

Now she really could not breathe. He was everything in that moment, taking up every inch of air. Tears streaked down her face at the abuse but he continued to fuck her mouth mercilessly. And her fingers kept playing with her nipples, twisting her stomach into knots of arousal.

"Look at me, Anne," he ordered through ragged breaths.

She did, her teary eyes meeting his, and then, with another thrust, he groaned again, spending himself inside her. Ropes of fluid flooded her mouth, making her choke.

He finally pulled out. "Now swallow, so that you don't make a mess. And then you can leave my sight."

Ashamed and angry, she stood up, getting as close to him as possible, before spitting his own seed back in his face.

"Take that, you bastard." He had humiliated her, but she had got her own back.

Rage blackened his features as his arms wrapped around her throat again, now choking her with a passion. "You. Will. Not. Disrespect. Me."

She raked her nails over his skin and thumped his chest. She even tried to knee his groin but he moved out of the way, still pressing her throat intently. Her vision turned blurry and finally went black. The last thought she had was of pure hatred for the man doing this to her, before the darkness claimed her.

...

She woke up, tied to a bed. Gagged so she could not scream. She tried regardless, only to hear footsteps coming her way.

"Oh, good," he said, sitting beside her. "You're awake. No point struggling against those bonds. No point screaming either. My walls are impervious to sounds, but even if the servants were to hear you, they would not intervene."

Hearing that, she stopped struggling, glaring at him until he removed her gag. "Where am-?"