Taming Maria (17 page)

Abandoning
herself to him, forgetful of everything, even Charles, fired by
their earlier encounter and needing his large phallus to fill her,
she wound her arms round his neck, drawing him closer. He withdrew
abruptly.

'You have
disappointed me, Maria. I wanted to be the one to deflower you, not
some strutting braggart like Bradley. If you find yourself with
child by him I shall have you sent to a convent and order the babe
to be smothered at birth.'

'You no longer
intend to marry me?' Maria asked, bewildered by his actions and
willing to agree to anything if he would only satisfy the craving
he had aroused.

He smile
mockingly, sitting back and wiping his fingers fastidiously on a
lawn handkerchief, then raising it to his nostrils as if a trace of
her sexual fragrance lingered there. 'I am master,' he said. 'Of
course I shall marry you. Your fortune will be mine, as will your
person. I fully intend to enjoy both.'

'Very well,
sir. I agree to anything as long as you don't leave me on the edge
like this.' Maria could not believe she was saying such a degrading
thing.

He laughed
again, a chilling sound. 'Whatever I command you will do. Is this
understood? As for bringing you off? I may, or then again I may
not. The decision is mine. I could take you over and over and never
give you relief. I could tie your hands in such a manner that you
would be unable to masturbate. Think how that would feel? I don't
give a damn how much you hate me, and it would be wise to fear me,
too. Is this understood?'

'Yes,' she
cried, able to deny him nothing in that fraught moment of desperate
desire, losing sight of any principles she might have had.

His stare held
a wealth of knowledge and depravity. He had seen and taken part in
actions that she could not begin to comprehend. 'Say it again. Call
me master.'

'Yes, master,'
she repeated, welcoming his touch as he pushed aside her bodice and
lowered his mouth to her nipples. At the same time he pressed down
on her mound, his fingers parting the swollen lips and finding the
hard nub between.

She sprawled
on the seat for him, the carriage shaking as it bowled along, and
Damien's fingers rubbed and stroked, his thumb entering her vagina,
while he kept up that divine frottage on her clitoris. She could
feel her orgasm rising as she strained towards the peak. Nothing
mattered but this bliss. Nothing existed but Damien as he slowly,
inexorably brought her to the brink. He kept her there for an
instant and then toppled her over into a climax so intense that she
lost consciousness for a second.

She came to
herself to find that she was lying against Damien, trembling from
head to foot. Now remorse took the place of desire and she hated
her actions. What manner of woman was she that her lust took over,
making her forget every other consideration? He sat up, freeing
himself from her and straightening his cravat. The coach had
stopped. Maria hurriedly rearranged her bodice and shrouded herself
in her cloak, but was sure that everyone who saw her would know
what she had been doing. They would be sniggering, gossiping,
giving her side-long glances.

Nothing
happened, however, and she was greeted at the top of the steps by
the housekeeper and butler and ushered inside. Lordly and
commanding, Damien ordered that refreshments were to be served in
his private apartment and took Maria there without preamble.

Maria was
alone with Damien in his stronghold. She feared yet desired him,
wished that Sarah or Jane were with her, would even have welcomed
her aunt. Yet that reckless self that lay hidden in her psyche
rejoiced that there was no one to come between them.

He took her
upstairs to his private apartment. It was gloomy, though richly
decorated and magnificent, the air heavy with the smell of the
incense smouldering in elaborate wrought-iron burners. He had
gathered treasures from every quarter of the globe to embellish his
lair, a connoisseur of art and all things exotic and beautiful. He
was proud of his skill, pointing out several objects as he poured
himself a snifter of brandy from a cut-glass decanter.

He nodded
towards a statue on a plinth. 'This is the goddess Kali from the
Hindu pantheon. Isn't she amazing?'

Maria thought
her hideous, with her many arms and fierce expression. 'I don't
like her. She's frightening.'

'Ah, this is
but one manifestation of her. She is the mother who defends her
children, the vengeful woman who it is not wise to offend. One day
you may come to understand her.'

She followed
him as he toured the room, pausing before a life-sized painting of
lovers in the throes of sexual abandon. 'How could models pose like
that?' she exclaimed.

He chuckled,
deep in his throat. 'People will do anything for money.'

'I wouldn't!'
she averred stoutly.

'You're a
pampered child. You know nothing of hardship, hunger and
poverty.'

'Do you, my
lord?' she shot back.

'Touché!' His
smile deepened. 'You're a fiery little filly, aren't you? I like
that.' He did not move from the painting, studying it closely. 'See
how cleverly the artist has captured the woman's moment of bliss.
The eyes half-closed, the mouth open languorously. Just as you
looked when I brought you off, Maria. Were you equally carried away
when Bradley penetrated your virgin hole?'

There was no
longer any pleasantness in his voice. His eyes were cold, his face
set in severe lines and his grip on her upper arm painful.

'How do you
know it was him?'

'I have my
informants. There is little that you do or say that doesn't come
back to me. Half your worth has gone now you've been fucked. My
fingers met no obstruction, and soon I shall use my cock to prove
your wantonness. But first, come over here. I have something else
to show you.'

He marched her
across the floor to what looked like a curtained alcove. Holding
back the drapes, he revealed a window giving access into the next
room.

'It's Jane's
chaperone,' Maria whispered, astonished by the sight of Agatha,
wearing nothing but corsets and stockings, beating a cringing
servant girl whose raised skirts revealed a plump posterior striped
with scarlet weals.

'No longer a
duenna. I told you, she now works for me, and revels in it,' he
commented, one hand caressing Maria's buttocks, scrunching up her
flimsy dress until he encountered bare flesh.

'How is it
that we can see them and they are unaware of us?' Maria attempted
to pull away, but he would have none of this, his grip tightening
painfully.

'Ah, that is
one of my little secrets. All they see is a mirror,' he murmured,
inserting a finger into the crack between her bottom cheeks. 'It
was through just such a one that I saw you with Bradley. Be careful
in future, for you will never know if or when I am observing
you.'

'You're a
devil!' she hissed, gasping as the finger rimmed her anus.

'And you love
it.'

'I don't. I
hate you,' she flung back, but his touch was so knowledgeable and
insidious, almost impossible to resist, and the sight of Agatha
maltreating the girl reminiscent of scenes she had witnessed at
school. Even in those days she had found it arousing and now, with
the addition of Damien's skilful fondling, she was burning with
desire.

'Watch the
inestimable Agatha,' he answered, ignoring her protests as his
middle digit entered her anal opening.

Fascinated,
yet aware of the discomfort of his probing, she stared through the
trick glass. The girl was strapped to a bench, facedown, and now
Agatha stood in front of her, opened her legs wide and started to
frig her prominent clitoris. The prone servant had no option but to
watch her at close-quarters.

Sickened yet
aching for orgasm, Maria could not avert her eyes. Agatha was
skinny, her pubis covered with a black thatch, her cleft protruding
between, the lips dark red and wet. Her fingers flew over her
engorged nubbin and she moaned in a frenzy of lust, moving closer
and closer to her victim. She pushed her slit against the girl's
face, continuing to finger-fuck herself, but augmenting this with
her victim's nose, mouth, cheeks and chin.

Damien bared
his cock, thrusting it into Maria's hand. She toyed with it, hardly
knowing what she was doing as she saw Agatha reaching a convulsive
orgasm, then throwing herself across the helpless servant, delving
into her intimate places, making her moan and shudder.

He let the
curtain drop, hiding the scene, and then forced Maria down on the
purple-draped bed. He rolled her on to her face, bared her behind
and slapped her again and again. His palm was hard through
sword-play and horse training and meted out severe punishment. She
struggled, but he knelt above her, trapping her legs with his
knees. She could hear his harsh breathing and the sharp impact of
that hand on her skin. She started to cry, the tears wrenched from
her in spite of her pride. She could hardly believe it when he
suddenly ceased hitting her. There was a moment's respite and then
she felt something else. He was pushing pillows beneath her to
raise her hips, then stretching her legs wide and fastening cords
to her ankles.

'Oh stop,
please!' she pleaded. 'Haven't you punished me enough?'

'Bradley may
have cheated me of your love-channel, but I imagine that your
arsehole is still virgin, is it not?' His voice was crisp, but with
underlying menace.

'I don't
understand what you mean...'

'No? I
promised you lessons in fucking, didn't I? You are about to learn
an important one.'

She shivered
with fear and anticipation, never sure what he intended to do next.
He was an enigma, both in his lifestyle and lovemaking. She
realised it was only experienced women, like Arabella, who could
begin to understand him.

He was moving
behind her, taking off his clothes. She heard him reach for
something on the bedside table. 'What are you doing?' she
quavered.

'I'm making
the way easier for myself.'

She started as
cold lotion was spread around her anus, a slippery sensation in a
place that had never before experienced such a thing. Then she was
aware of him between her legs, and felt the hugeness of his penis
pressing against her most intimate area.

'Stop it!' she
shouted, but Damien was not to be deterred. He continued to grind
into her until the rim of his glans had penetrated, stretching her
sphincter agonisingly.

He groaned,
the effort costing him dear, and she rejoiced in his discomfort,
wishing she could squeeze his cock with her inner muscles, mangle
and damage it, so he would never again be able to enjoy sex. But
she was helpless to do anything as he inexorably pushed in further
and further, entering the dark recess Nature had not designed to
receive the male appendage. Maria was convinced she would be ruined
for life, stretched, split and wounded by that monstrous thing
violating her rectum. It was not welcome there, as Charles's cock
had been in her vagina, yet she could not dislodge it, though her
muscles were striving to do so.

Damien was
intent on his purpose, ignoring her pleas, determined to lodge
himself fully inside her. She stopped moving, for this hurt even
more, and lay there accepting the agony as, with a final effort, he
distended her and the whole length and girth of him shot into her.
She screamed as she was plumbed to her depths. He stilled then,
obviously finding the opening restrictive and narrow and she was
glad, hoping he was suffering too.

'Damn you!'
she cried and, to cause him more pain, clenched around his tool.
She shunted back and forth, her anus like a ring sliding up and
down his shaft. The pain was diabolical, and yet that feeling of
being stuffed to the very limits held an odd kind of pleasure.

Damien could
not contain his groans of pain and delight, urging his cock in and
out of that tight, restricting hole. And she yearned for revenge,
longing to suck him into her bowels and absorb his prick, making it
a part of herself and never letting him go, her prisoner forever.
He came, and she felt the hot bursts of spunk exploding deep inside
her and then he rolled away, swearing and clutching himself. She
lay there experiencing a form of triumph, though her arse ached and
she felt she would never recover from his assault.

He sat up,
turning to look down on her. Then he freed her ankles and she
raised herself, avoiding his eyes. His emission dribbled from her
anus and she grabbed up a handful of sheet to staunch it. He pulled
on his shirt, saying, 'You are too tight. I shall order Agatha to
use butt-plugs on you.'

'And what,
pray, are they?' She wanted to cry, to beg for a modicum of
tenderness, but refused to grant herself that indulgence. If he
could be icy, then so could she.

'Devices for
stretching the rectum. She will start with small ones and gradually
enlarge them until you can take me with ease.'

'You intend to
repeat this atrocity?' Maria found her clothing and covered her
bruised body.

'In time you
will beg me to perform it.'

'I don't think
so, sir.'

'Ask your
aunt. Sodomy is one of her favourite forms of entertainment. We
shall have plenty of opportunity for practice in the country.'
Fully dressed, it was hard to credit that a short while ago he had
been behaving like a rutting animal.

'May I return
to Armitage House now?' She flung her wrap around her like a royal
robe, head held high.

'You may, but
make no attempt to contact Bradley if you wish him to live. My men
are watching him, and you.'

'Oh, Robin,
what are we going to do?' lane tried to appear calm for they had
arranged to meet in a coffeehouse, notes passed between them
through her maid, Abigail. She was nothing like as reliable as
Maria's servant, Emily. A stout, idle girl who, released from
Agatha Bailey's domination, demanded money and privileges for her
loyalty.