The Ravishing of Constance Ch. 06bySabledrake©
Breakfast the next morning was an ordeal for Constance.
She had managed to discreetly leave the room last night as Eva, Enrique, and Robert succumbed to their weariness. While they slept on the carpet, in the midst of their strewn clothes, Constance sought the solitude of her own bed.
She had been awakened early by Rob, who was cross with her for leaving. He told her that unless her manners improved to the point that she did not desert her duties when they had company, she'd regret it.
Boldly, Constance challenged him and asked him what more he could do to her. But his reply had floored her.
"You honestly think we've plumbed the depths? Far from it, dear Constance. We do not necessarily have to save your pretty bottom for your wedding night, for one. I'm sure Enrique wouldn't object to shoving his cock right up." As he spoke, he'd worked his hand between the cheeks of her backside and attempted to worm a finger into that tight and untouched opening.
Constance had sprung away from him, but Rob had only laughed.
"And there's much more besides, sweet sister-mine. Did you like the look of Eva's cunny last night? We could force you down between her legs and have you give her a good tongue-lashing. Or she could do the same for you."
The thought had chilled her.
"They say," Rob had continued thoughtfully, "that only a woman truly knows how to please another woman that way. Of course, I've heard the same thing said about men, and the one time I let a man suck me, it wasn't all that splendid. The fact that I'd been dead drunk at the time may have had something to do with it, I grant you."
"I do not want to do that with Eva," Constance had told him.
"Good God, Constance, you nursed at her teats when you were a babe. This is not so much different."
A spark of anger had led her to retort. "That's akin to saying that since you were born of our mother's womb, there'd be no harm in trying to crawl back inside!"
Rob slapped his thigh and roared. "Spirit! She shows spirit! Ah, believe me, Constance, if what I remember of our mother is true, she was a lissome and lovely creature. Your age when she married Father, so she would be younger than Eva if she'd lived. Blonde and fair … why wouldn't I want to have a go at her?"
"You're a filthy abomination, Robert."
"At least I know what I am and what I like, while you seek to deny your true nature. Take it to heart, Constance, you have a wanton's way about you. Your body was made for fucking, and your soul was made to crave it."
He commanded her down to breakfast then. Eva was long gone, having cleaned up the mess of the broken stew pot and made the dining room to look as if the previous evening's events had never happened. But Enrique's look of contentment, and his lascivious leer as Constance came in, were proof that they had.
The household staff had reported for duty that morning, which was the beginning of Constance's reprieve. Neither of them would dare touch her when there was a chance they might be caught by someone they couldn't ensnare as they had Eva.
The betrayal of that still hurt Constance to the quick. Nana Eva had been as a mother to her, a warm and comforting presence in her life. Now that was tainted, tarnished.
It would have been bad enough if Rob and Enrique had raped Eva, pinned her struggling and taken her against her will. But no, that was not their way. They conspired instead to make Eva partake willingly of their vile deeds, and she had. She had indeed, and enjoyed it utterly.
Constance had spent a largely sleepless night trying to figure out why. An inexperienced young woman such as herself knew so little about the ways of men and women, and did not know what to do when her body's reactions went against what she was taught was proper. Yet Eva was older, a woman already wed and widowed with children of her own. Grandchildren, even! How had she given in so readily to those lustful acts?
She pushed food around her plate, mulling these questions in her mind. When the servants were absent from the room, Rob and Enrique amused themselves by recounting what had happened, marveling to each other at Eva's fervor.
"Widows, I told you. They get accustomed to a good regular bit of rumpy," Rob said, "and when their husbands die, they grow to miss it. She's probably thanking all the saints and going about with a smile on her face this morning."
He went on to relate to Enrique what Constance had said to him that morning, and his replies. To her discomfiture, the prospect of seeing Constance made to lick at another woman's cunny only made the lusty gleam in Enrique's eyes increase. She might have expected him to object, since Rob still had not given him that opportunity.
"Or better yet," Enrique suggested, his tongue running over his lips, "we could have her perform that service to the luscious little Esperanza."
"You promised to leave them alone," Constance interjected. "If Eva did as you wished and kept her silence, you promised to leave her daughter-in-law and granddaughter alone."
She knew it was hopeless, but for the sake of Esperanza, she had to try anyway. It did no good. She could see it in their scheming faces. They were already contemplating plans to lure Eva's young granddaughter from home and introduce her to adult delights.
"I'm thinking of closing the house for a while," Rob said. "Of informing the staff that my sister and I are making a visit to your family."
Dread killed the rest of Constance's dwindling appetite.
"Oh, are you?" Enrique raised an eyebrow. "To discuss wedding arrangements with my father?"
"I'd not tell them that. Nor would I want to sail right away. A week or so, without the servants constantly underfoot or having to devise some excuse to send them away … a week uninterrupted of indulging in Constance's charms … by then, my friend, I believe I might be ready to yield her hand to you."
"And the rest of her?"
"And the rest of her," Rob chuckled.
"A week. With me as your guest?"
"Well, Enrique, therein lies the problem. I've noticed that you and I are much more inclined to argue these days. Over something so inconsequential, too. It pains me to see such a tension put on our friendship."
"There's one very simple way to resolve that, Rob." He eyed Constance significantly.
She made herself chew up another bite of food, which had the taste and texture of paper in her mouth. Her face was flaming. Last night, Rob had permitted Enrique to use his hands on her, to insert his fingers into her and bring her to orgasm. If Rob had hoped that would forestall Enrique's desires, he was sadly mistaken. It only made Enrique want more.
"What might be best," Rob said, "would be for you to return to Santa Juanita ahead of us, and broach the subject of your engagement with Don Carlos, your esteemed father. Tell him you wish to invite us to visit. He would be glad of a chance to inspect your intended bride."
"I daresay he would." Enrique scowled. "He'd likely want to get into her as well."
Constance spilled her glass. Don Carlos was as swarthy and dark-haired as his son but lacked Enrique's handsomeness. He was a squat, round man with greedy pig's eyes and an upturned nose, and everything about him seemed somehow oily. It had never occurred to her that the dreaded fate of marrying Enrique would bring her into such proximity with Don Carlos, who had once ran a hand over her bottom and made as though it had been an accident.
"That is a matter for you to decide," Rob said. "A dutiful son might count such as a token of filial respect. I personally would draw the line."
"You would not share your wife with your father?"
Rob scoffed, blowing breath between pursed lips. "My father has lived a eunuch's life for so long, I doubt me what he'd do if I made the offer. I don't think he's even had a woman since Mother died."
"Well, mine has been anything but a monk," Enrique said. "There's hardly a woman on Santa Juanita he hasn't bedded, and I often wonder as to the virtue of the goats."
"I've seen the women on Santa Juanita," Rob said. "I wonder that you can tell the difference! But be that as it may, old friend, if you went ahead and made the preparations for our visit, Constance and I would follow after in due course."
Enrique sat sullenly, thinking. "You're sending me away so you can have her to yourself."
"Only for a while. Grant me that much."
"We made a pledge that we'd never let a woman divide us."
"And that pledge, we've kept."
"Have we?" His eyes flashed.
Constance could not believe that Rob failed to see the depth of hurt and anger his blithe answers had caused Enrique. Was Rob so blind? Or was he making less of it, telling himself it did not matter?
The two of them had just agreed, however grudgingly on Enrique's part, to Rob's plan when a reprieve came. It was in the form of a messenger, bringing the tidings that Lord Adam Cuthburt, an old friend of the deGranvilles, had just put into port at Veradoga Harbor. He was requesting the hospitality of the governor's mansion for the night, and Rob could hardly refuse.
A thrill of joy leaped up in Constance. One of Lord Cuthburt's eccentricities was that he never traveled without a complement of butlers, valets, secretaries, and other staff. In order to make them welcome, Rob could not close the house or send away the servants. Perhaps she could persuade Lord Cuthburt to linger for a week or more, a month … until her father returned!
"Oh, Rob, that is unfortunate," Enrique said with a hard-edged smile. "A good thing that I'll be out from underfoot. I'll set sail to Santa Juanita this evening, and give word to my father that you and Constance shall be along in a week."
Rob looked rather as though he'd bitten into a sour fruit. He was in an ill humor all the rest of the day as he oversaw the preparations. A grateful Constance was able to retire to her room, even more grateful as she watched from the balcony and saw one of Don Carlos' ships making ready to set sail.
Enrique gone, and Rob unable to lay a hand on her with a houseful of guests. She felt blessed. Salvation had finally found her.
Lord Cuthburt, a jolly fellow of some ten years senior to their father's age, was a merry companion at dinner. He brimmed with tales of his travels, and had recently met with William deGranville at a reception held for the English ambassador.
"He told me how you've been looking after Veradoga in his absence," Cuthburt said to Rob. "That's quite a burden for a lad your age, and with a sister to keep an eye on as well. I imagine, as pretty as she's grown, you've had your hands full keeping the suitors at bay!"
"You've no idea," Rob said dryly.
"I told Will that I'd be more than happy to stop by and see how you're getting on, and offer the benefits of my experience. You may rely on me, young Robert."
Rob's polite smile was strained. Constance had to refrain from kicking her feet and giving in to a fit of girlish giggles.
She went to bed that night with the highest of spirits. She was safe, for not even Rob would be so bold as to –
Her door opened a stealthy few inches.
Constance was outraged. Had he no good sense at all?
Rob hissed her name. "Constance? Are you awake?"
She feigned sleep. He came in regardless, nervously glancing over his shoulder. When he reached the edge of the bed, she gave up her pretense and sat up, the covers bunched around her.
"What is it, Rob? You cannot be here. If Lord Cuthburt found out –"
"I know," he said, and there was genuine anguish in his voice. "The fat old busybody is now saying he might stay most of the week, God help us."
She had her own ideas about God, ideas that had changed in the past several days. If God was in the habit of helping people, it surely wasn't those who needed Him the most.
"I know we cannot risk being caught," he went on. "And I shall be on my best behavior until Cuthy shoves off. That is what I came to tell you."
"Why do I not believe you? I used to trust you, Rob. I used to love and trust you, my elder brother. I thought you'd be a defender of mine, someone I could always turn to."
"I still am, and you can still love me, Constance. It is but a … a different sort of love. More befitting a man and a woman than a brother and a sister." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "That, you see, is the trouble. I love you."
She said nothing, watched him.
"I've fallen in love with you. That is why I am so reluctant to let Enrique have you. It is driving him mad, I know that, and I've never failed to share a woman with him before. He cannot understand. If I told him, he still would not understand."
"I do not love you, Rob. Not even as a brother, not anymore."
"Do not say that! You do love me. We are meant to be together. I'd marry you if I could, and have you always to myself."
"You're the one who's gone mad," she said. "Leave my room."
"One kiss, and I will."
"One kiss, Constance, I swear it."
"I do not trust you."
"The longer I stay, the greater the chance someone will happen by and hear us."
"A kiss, then, and go!" She offered her lips.
He brushed his against them and she thought he really did mean what he'd said. But then he groaned, and crushed her to him, his tongue delving into her mouth and his hands at the laces of her nightgown.
She pushed him away. "Rob, stop, you promised."
"I'll be quick, so very quick." He opened the front of her nightgown and sealed his lips around her nipple.
"Stop!" She yanked at his hair, telling herself that she did not feel a surge of heat as his tongue flicked and swirled.
"Hush, we'll be heard," Rob said. "Don't fight me, sister-mine. I'll be quick."
Before she could protest further, he had pushed her down on the bed and was climbing atop her. He lifted the hem of her nightgown and tried to part her legs.
"One last time. Open your thighs for me, Constance."
He would not be dissuaded, and she hoped that if she did as he wanted, he would go. She gave him access and he entered her with no preamble. His thrusts were rough and quick, urgent. She was just beginning to warm and moisten, just beginning to feel the stirrings of pleasure, when he spilled into her and collapsed, breathing hard against her neck.
It was over. Just like that, it was over. He withdrew and tucked his cock away, standing over her as she lay with her legs open and her nightgown in disarray. Rob studied her as if engraving the image in his mind, then left without a word.
The door closed behind him. Constance slowly pulled down her nightgown and pulled up the covers. Her body was in a whirl of yearning and disappointment. He had never been like that before. Never just rudely taken his own pleasure and neglected hers. Indeed, it had been his pride to make her enjoy the depraved incestuous things he was doing to her, as if that somehow absolved him of his guilt.
She thought of touching herself, seeking her own release. She burst into tears instead. What was the matter with her? She hated it when he took her, and was crying because it was over so soon? Because she'd been denied the explosive sensation she'd learned to expect?
An hour went by as Constance tossed and turned. She was so caught up in her distressed thoughts that she did not immediately take notice of the commotion outside. When she did become aware of it, she sat up and listened.
Shouting voices. Running footsteps. Horses. Someone calling for Young Lord Robert. A fire. There was a fire at the docks.
Constance hurried to the window. Yes, she could see a blaze down by the waterfront. People were dashing all around, bringing buckets, throwing water on the flames.
Moments later, Rob and Lord Cuthburt and the men of the manor were racing down the road to help. She started to turn from the window, thinking that she would hastily dress and join the townswomen in helping in whatever ways they could.
A dark silhouette loomed on the balcony, backlit by the fire. Constance took a step back, drawing in a breath to scream.
"Constance," Enrique said, his voice caressing her name. "Constance, finally, Constance."
He rushed at her, bore her across the room and onto the bed where she'd so recently and unsatisfactorily lain with Robert. Her breath was driven out of her in a gust as his weight came down atop her.
"Enrique," she gasped.
"Don't speak." He flung up her nightgown and buried his face in the soft nest of golden curls.
She had dreaded what his full lips and wide tongue would do to her. Now, as he attacked her sensitive flesh with the manner of a starved man, feasting on her, lapping and slurping in a frenzy, Constance immediately knew she'd been right to worry. He abandoned any skillful finesse in his fervor, but his very intensity demanded a response.
And oh, but her poor body was already fraught with forestalled passion! It took but a moment for Enrique's hungry mouth to rekindle her into a furnace of need. She threw her forearm over her face, bit at it, to stifle her cries.
He grunted and groaned against her flesh, mumbles perhaps meant to be words. Reassuring her? Threatening her? Professing her beauty and his lust? She did not know. More, she did not care.
It was too much, more than she could bear. She grasped his head, sinking her fingers into his dark hair, and pushed his face more firmly to his task. Her thighs clamped over his ears, and her hips rolled to bring his eager mouth where she needed it the most.
Enrique's hands went under her buttocks and lifted, holding her to him. He caught her nub between his lips and played the tip of his tongue over it in quick pressure. Then, moving lower, he plunged the length of his tongue deep, softer than a cock but ever so much more pliant, exploring the walls of her cunny, tasting her – tasting Rob, as well, she thought suddenly, and the idea was strangely appealing.
A tremor began at the core of her. She strove to the wet and welcome strokes, hating herself and him but unable to keep from surrendering up the sweet tribute of her body. It crashed over her in waves, wringing a cry from her that she could not possibly hope to contain.
He kept at her, merciless, prolonging her climax until Constance thought she might swoon from the force of it.
She did swoon, or at least lost herself a bit, for when next she was aware, he had left off and was looming over her. His face glistened from her juices, his eyes burned with his own as-yet-unmet need, and when she felt the naked press of his cock against her leg, she realized that he had undressed. That he meant to –
"Oh, no, Enrique, please," she whispered.
"I must, Constance! If I do not possess you now, tonight, it will be the death of me!"
"But Rob –"
"Bugger Rob and all his selfishness! I let him believe I'd go, but I had no intention of leaving this island without fucking you. No matter if I had to burn down all the village to get him from the house."
"You … you set the fires?"
"Do not resist me, Constance," he said as she tried to bring her knees together, only to find that his body blocked her from doing so. "Not when you've just spent so deliciously for me, as I knew you would. It's better this way, you see. Better. You need feel no shame, for I am not your brother. This is not incest. Let me show you how fine it can be."
As he spoke, he moved against her, and the head of his cock slid up her thigh to lodge in the moist curls of her cunny.
"Say yes, Constance. I'll do it whether you grant me permission or not, but say yes," he begged. "Give yourself to me. I feel how your body quivers beneath me, how your cunny aches to be filled. Isn't it true?"
"Yes," she said, and blinked away tears.
"Yes!" he echoed, and thrust victoriously into her.