The Ravishing of Constance Ch. 20bySabledrake©
She had a bed of her own, in a spacious lovely bedroom with drapes of gauze that fluttered like the softest wisps of clouds. She was alone in it, but by choice this time. No unkind chastity belt bit into her skin. Yet she had been wearied to the very bone and wanted only sleep.
Her weeks of deprivation had culminated in the day's adventure. What had begun as a public shaming and horrendous breaking of the most primal taboo – being bound and displayed to the eyes of all of Falcon Bay, and then subjected to a coerced fucking by her own father – had ended in utter satisfaction. She was avenged on her brother, whose incestuous lusts had set her upon this path.
She was avenged, too, on her father … not that William deGranville had committed any crimes against her until today. But call it, rather, revenge for her mother's sake. Anna deGranville had passed the final years of her life in melancholy, knowing that she had been made to give up her second-born. And why? Because her husband would never have accepted that child as his own. He had never fully trusted his wife thereafter, either.
Constance knew this to be true. Her parents had kept separate rooms, and a chill distance between them. She now suspected that her conception had been more dutiful than joyful, and might even have been the last time her father could bring himself to bed his wife.
For Anna had been tainted in his eyes. Even unknowing of the child – of Jacqueline – Anna had been tainted to him. William could not look on her without seeing her in the arms of a pirate, could not touch her without wondering what Philippe Merlion and his men might have done to that fair body.
What had been done? Constance did not know. Had her mother confessed such acts to her father? Surely not. They would never have spoken of it. William would have wished to believe that it had never happened, and yet he had not conducted himself in that manner. Instead, he had shunned her, ignored her.
The more Constance thought on it, the more she remembered Rob and his jealous possession of her. No other man but him should ever have at her cunny … as if it were his and not her own. Thus must it have been with her parents. Anna, wife to William and therefore chattel, had given that which was rightfully his to others. Whether it had been done by force or not. As if she were no person at all, only a belonging.
She hoped for her mother's sake that Philippe Merlion had been a splendid lover. It was hard to believe when she thought also of Jacqueline's reported abuse at the hands of the pirate lord, but perhaps it had been different with Anna. Perhaps she had enjoyed a passionate affair before being returned to the loveless arms of her husband.
William had never trusted her again. And he had extended that distrust to Constance, even as an infant or blameless girlchild. He had kept her as a prisoner on Veradoga, always claiming it was to protect her. Now Constance wondered if it had been meant to punish Anna, through her daughter. Or to protect the family name instead.
There had been talk, sly whispers and knowledgeable looks, their sphere of acquaintances so merry and malicious. It may have been that as much as anything else that drove Anna to her suicide. Wherever she went, she had to know that others were spreading tales about her. Anna deGranville, taken by pirates … no doubt ravished again and again, and likely moaning with a wanton's pleasure all the while.
Her father had gotten through that somehow, but was never going to chance the like happening again. And perhaps he believed it, as well. Perhaps he believed that his fair Anna had indeed moaned and writhed and exhorted her rapacious captors to greater efforts. Perhaps he believed that Constance for all her seeming innocence, would turn out to be the same. As all women were.
Well, that had been proved to him beyond any doubt. It had been Rob's doing, but would her father see that?
Then again, he might not be so willing to favor Rob now. Not when he had regained consciousness to find Rob sucking frantically on his cock, not when he had been made to put it up Rob's arse.
Constance wondered how they had passed the night in their cell. She thought of paying them a visit, speaking to them through the bars. But better to let them stew in each other's company for a time.
She rose instead with inspiration blossoming in her mind like a rose, and swiftly sought out Jacqueline.
Her sister was in a robe, newly from the bath, hair damp and curling around her ears. The animosity that had always before been in her blue eyes was absent, for they had settled the accounts between them.
"Did you sleep well?" Jacqueline asked, offering with a wave the sideboard's tray of pastries and fruit.
"Far better, I imagine, than our father and brother did."
"How very true."
"But it struck me this morning, Jacques. With the pair of them missing, presumed lost at sea or slain by pirates, that would mean that the estate on Veradoga, and Father's fortunes – less the ransom he has already paid to you – would fall to me."
Jacqueline licked crumbs from the corner of her mouth. "Is it not a governorship? Appointed by the crown?"
"It was," she said, momentarily distracted by the sight of Jacqueline's tongue sliding luxuriously over her lips. "But Father was of great service to the Crown. When asked what reward he would have, he requested and was granted that his holdings be made ancestral, to pass down to his legal children."
"Ah," said Jacqueline. "Which I, never acknowledged, am not. Else it would be mine for I am your elder."
"You have already your pirate empire," Constance said. "All of Falcon Bay, and Merlion's many ships, are yours. What I propose is a venture of cooperation."
"Speak on, sister."
"Veradoga, located as it is, would make a fine pirate's port. Your ships, my island estate … together, we could reap quite a profit."
"Hmm … an interesting offer."
"I'd only request one thing," Constance said, already sure that Jacqueline was going to agree. "If you could, perchance, stage an attack on Santa Juanita, and abduct the son of Don Martinez, the governor? I should like to portion out some of my revenge unto Enrique, as well."
The very thought of it … dusky-skinned Enrique, such an eager participant in her downfall … she owed him. She owed him for striking the flint that set Rob afire. Had Enrique not been attempting to steal a kiss that evening, Rob might not have caught him at it, and called her a poor hostess for allowing her guest's physical needs to go unfulfilled. She might never have ended up thrown on her back across the dining-room table, Enrique feeding his thick cock into her mouth whilst Rob licked at her cunny in order to make her comply.
He'd told her he would stop when she had brought Enrique to spending, but he had only been as good as the letter of his word, not his spirit. For once she had swallowed down the salty, creamy effusion, Rob had declared his intention to rub his cock against her, claiming that it was not incest unless one of them came. But he'd known too well how to see to it that she did, and then saw no reason why he should not immediately fuck her. That had been the beginning, thanks to Enrique.
She had even fled because of him. The prospect of marrying him had been bad enough, but it was his sneaking into her room and bed, so determined to have a poke at her cunny that he forewent his friendship to Rob, that led to their discovery and her ruthless beating. Rob had switched her, then brutally raped her bottom, and that was when she had known she had to flee.
Rob had been repaid for that. His own tender cheeks would still be stinging from the welts she'd applied, and after the hard fucking he'd taken from Salvador, he must be feeling as if his innards had been gouged with a broomstick.
But Enrique needed to repay, as well. Constance imagined him at her mercy, and felt a warm tingle run from her breasts to her loins. The things she could do to him, make him do, have done to him! It would be wonderful to hear him weep and beg as Rob had done. She might even arrange for the capture of Don Martinez as well, Enrique's father, he of the eyes that crept so lewdly over a woman that it was as if he could see through her very garments and feel, by some stroking of vision, that which was beneath.
"Why stop there?" Jacqueline asked. "Why not Lord Cuthburt, too?"
"And his niece, Margaret!" Constance clapped her hands. "I never liked her, the times we met. Such a prig, she was. Always with her nose in the air, and never improper in the slightest. We'll see if there's truth to his nighttime games!"
"You have a cruel stripe, Constance."
"But will you seal this bargain with me?"
Jacqueline smiled. "How can I not?"
They shook on it, the pact between sisters made. For the next hour, they made their plans, and then Constance took her leave.
With a spring in her step, she went out to the balcony to breathe of the fresh sea air, and admire the ships at dock. The stern granite outcrop that gave Falcon Bay its name brooded over the harbor like some protective stone idol.
She turned, strands of golden hair tossed into her face by the errant breeze, and saw Jean-Pierre. A peculiar shyness swept her. He had not been present yesterday, not that she could see, while the absolute ruination of the deGranvilles was taking place on that platform in the courtyard.
Nor had she much seen him since that night when he and Michel had enjoyed Marie in the captain's bed. She had been made to watch, prevented from participating by the belt, and envy had burned in her like bitter green marshfire.
Yet here he was, Jean-Pierre, his jet-black hair stirred by the same wind that disarranged hers, his emerald eyes flicking to hers and then away, as if he were seized by a shyness of his own.
"Good morning, Jean-Pierre," she said. Carefully, unsure of where she stood with him. He was so very handsome, especially now that he was sober and no longer muddled with rum.
"I have just spoken to Jacqueline. She says that you shall be returning to Veradoga," he said.
"I wonder if you'd permit me to accompany you."
She gasped. "Jean-Pierre … I thought … I thought that you despised me for what I did to you."
He colored briefly. "I did, but only for a time."
"Whence the change of heart?"
"I do not know. Only that I have been unable to keep you from my thoughts. I should like to be with you again."
"Although I am wicked?"
A rare, fleeting smile brought a light to his eyes. "Perhaps because you are."
"You must know that Jacqueline and I have plans, sinister ones."
His smile widened. "Involving me?"
Constance laughed, feeling a warm and wonderful relief, possibly even joy, unfolding within her. "Of a certain, involving you!"
"When do we begin?"
She moved to him, cuddling her lush body against his lean strength. Her lips sought his and kissed him deeply. "Why not now?" she asked, leading his hands to her breasts.
Jean-Pierre returned her kiss with a passion that left Constance breathless. She could only murmur encouragement as he unlaced her frock, raining more kisses on the creamy slopes of her breasts. Lower and lower, he tugged the fabric, until the rosy buds of her nipples were revealed. He took first one and then the other into his mouth, flicking his tongue across them.
As he did this, she was not idle. Her fingers traced the stiffening outline of him through his breeches, undid his belt.
"We'll be seen," he whispered.
"What of it?"
"No matter, I suppose."
And then he was kneeling before her, raising her skirt. Constance leaned against the wide balcony rail, thighs apart as he nuzzled her, licked her. She held onto his head, thick black hair coarse yet silky in her hands.
"Oh, yes!" she gasped. "Yes, like that … oh, Jean-Pierre!"
He kept on until her legs would hardly support her. As he stood, she wanted to slide down and return the favor, but he had his own ideas in mind and lifted her so that her bottom was resting on the rail. Behind her was open air, dropping into the courtyard, gave a dizzying sense of danger to the proceedings. Jean-Pierre moved between her legs. He entered her with one smooth thrust.
"Ah!" She crossed her ankles at the small of his back. Her arms wrapped around his neck.
"Constance, oh, Constance," he groaned, embracing her tightly.
The open air all around her, and the awareness that anyone in Falcon Bay might be looking up at them, only added to Constance's thrill. She hoped that the prison cell where Rob and her father were being kept had a tiny window, and that they were watching her right now through the bars as she was rocked back and forth on the balcony rail.
The contrast of the cool stone beneath her buttocks and the heat of Jean-Pierre inside her was exquisitely pleasant. He clung to her, his face buried in the hollow of her neck and lost in the fall of her hair. She could hear him repeating her name fervently, amid kisses pressed warm and wet on her throat.
"Yes, my darling," she cried. "Oh, yes!"
He quickened his pace, now kissing her jaw, and then her lips. She opened her mouth to his tongue. Her cunny quivered with impending climax. All at once, he broke the kiss and held her face by the sides, peering deeply into her eyes.
"Are you, Constance?"
Her eyelids fluttered. "Mmm, yes, I'm going to spend."
"Open your eyes, darling, and look at me." His voice was thick, his body tense, and she knew he was near as well. "Let me see it happen."
She did as he wished, and they locked gazes as the sweet cascade tumbled through her. Somehow, the eye contact made the moment all the more intimate. Seeing him, emerald eyes darkening with passion … seeing him seeing her, and the look of wonder and awe that came over him as she shuddered and moaned in ecstasy …
And then he was pushing into her rapidly, his lip caught between even rows of white teeth, spending in her while she saw the sheer pleasure suffuse him. He claimed her lips again, kissing her, holding her to him as if he never wanted to let go.
They clung to each other for quite some time, oblivious to anything around them. At last, Jean-Pierre disengaged, and lifted her down from the rail.
"I want to be with you," he said. "I … I believe, Constance, that I'm falling in love with you."
She touched his cheek. "Oh, Jean-Pierre, do not say such things. My heart could not stand it."
"Why should I not, if it is the truth?"
"But what is there for it?" she asked, dismay and hope all whirled within her. "I could not have only one man for all of my life, not now, not after all I've done. I would need more, my dear Jean-Pierre, and I have had enough of jealous and possessive men seeking to keep me for their own!"
"I would not do that," he said somberly. "I would not do anything except that which caused you joy. I … Constance, I watched you on the ship. I saw you yesterday. I know that you've a greater appetite than any one man, even Hercules himself, could satisfy. And yet, I liked what I saw. I love to watch you giving and receiving those delights. To be a part of it, that is enough for me."
"You are too good a man!" she cried, holding him.
"Too, you will need someone on Veradoga to help with your plans," he said. "I may have resisted my father's piratical ways but I could not escape them altogether. I know much of how such business is conducted, and what must be done. You'll need me, Constance."
"I do need you, Jean-Pierre," she said. "If you will have me as I am."
"I'd have you any way you desire."
"Then let us go and seek Jacqueline's approval." She put her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I only pray she'll grant it."
"I am certain that she will," said Jean-Pierre. He paused, then added slyly, "Perhaps Marie might come with us."
"Devil!" Constance laughed, swatting at him. "Now I see your true shape!"
"Is it so strange that I am dying to do as Michel did, and savor the fruits of the both of you together?"
"I should like that very much."
They reached Jacqueline's rooms, which gave onto the long balcony through a separate door. It stood partly ajar, with curtains billowing gently through the gap. As they neared it, Constance stopped Jean-Pierre short, hearing voices from within.
"Michel!" There was no real anger in Jacqueline's tone, just a mock-scolding playfulness. "What do you think you are doing?"
"What I've waited long years to do," Michel replied.
"Shh," Constance hissed, and crept closer with Jean-Pierre close at her side. They came to the door, plucked enough of the curtain aside to see within.
It was Jacqueline's bedroom, and Michel was striding across it with Jacqueline in his arms. Her robe had fallen open, exposing her long-limbed body with its taut belly and small but ripe breasts. He set her upon the bed and stood over her, looking down at her nudity in appreciation while she rose up on her elbows.
"This is insubordination, Merlion," she said, but extended one long leg and walked her toes up his thigh.
"Are they going to --?" Jean-Pierre began incredulously.
"Shh!" Constance jabbed her finger into his ribs, then held it to her lips and tilted her head toward the scene. They crouched outside of the door, only able to see a slice of the room but as it was the slice with the bed, it was quite sufficient.
"Aye, mon cher captaine," Michel said. "Insubordination indeed."
He caught hold of the foot that was caressing his leg, and raised it. Jacqueline allowed him to bring it to his mouth, where he nipped at her toes and tickled the sole with his chin. With his other hand, he opened his breeches and freed his impressive cock.
"Bordering on mutiny," Jacqueline said.
Michel knelt on the bed, and then lowered himself onto Jacqueline's welcoming body. "You'll have to punish me for it."
Jacqueline sighed in contentment as he slowly, rapturously, eased into her. She flexed her hips to meet him. "A hundred strokes should do."
He fell to with vigor. Out on the balcony, Constance and Jean-Pierre watched intently, and soon were swept up in renewed arousal. They did not quite dare join the couple on the bed, but Constance knew that they would not always be so reticent.
Indeed, her new life promised many glorious pleasures, and this was only the beginning.