by N. J Ross
‘I don’t know, sir,’ I replied, shocked. ‘A week ago, maybe?’
‘Perfect,’ smiled the Duke. He undid the button on his pantaloons, his fingers still pressed up inside me, and I saw something huge and hard and white spring up out of his undergarments.
‘A snake!’ I cried, and the Duke laughed.
‘This, my little Negro princess,’ said the Duke, ‘is my nice big white cock…’ He lifted the hem of my dress up further, and then, with one powerful movement, ripped it clean off my body, leaving me naked, my back scraping against the bark of the tree. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m going to have any difficult spilling my seed into you,’ said the Duke, taking the end of his almighty cock, which looked like a spear made of flesh. ‘In fact, I think the difficult part might be making it stop.’
Suddenly, with one swift and powerful movement, the Duke grabbed me by the hips, and lifted me high into the air, then dropped me onto the tip of his cock. I was so warm and wet that I slipped down onto him with ease, his long, stiff cock sliding all the way up inside me, as far as it would go, filling up every inch of me and making me moan with delight.
‘Oh, my Duke…’ I murmured.
‘You like that do you, Wanda?’ asked the Duke, wiping the hair from my face and stroking my cheek. ‘You like it when your white Master puts his big, hard cock into you?’
I nodded, and moaned some more.
‘Well, how do you like this?’ asked the Duke, grabbing my black ass hard with both hands, pulling me apart like he was splitting open a peach, drawing his enormous, long cock out of me, as far as it would go, teasing my soft entrance with the engorged tip of his spear, and then plunging inside me again.
‘Oh!’ I cried out.
‘Do you like that?’ asked the Duke.
‘Yes,’ I moaned, willing him to do it again, to plunge his rod as deep inside me as it would go.
‘I want you to shout out to me how much you like it,’ said the Duke, pulling me apart once more, drawing his fleshy sword out of me, and then piercing me again, even harder this time, as I screamed.
‘I like it!’ I shouted, not caring if everyone in the manor heard me now, including the Duchess. ‘I like it so much!’
The Duke smiled, then began pounding into me faster, harder, more urgently. ‘It seems that my little Negro is braver than I thought,’ he said, breathing into me ear. ‘And I like it when she screams.’ He pounded faster. ‘Scream for me again, little one.’
He grabbed my ass cheeks again, and then I suddenly felt something strong and coarse inserting itself into my delicate back passage, causing me to shriek and scream , trying to move free, but unable to go anywhere, my hands locked behind the tree, my pussy skewered on the Duke’s meat. ‘That’s my finger in your asshole,’ said the Duke. Then he grinned. ‘You’re lucky I haven’t put two up there.’
As he fucked me, he began stroking my back passage with his finger, at first softly, and then, as I loosened up, it was like he was beckoning my insides to come for him, his finger flicking in and out of me with quick, urgent movements.
‘The harder you come, the further my seed will travel up inside you,’ said the Duke, fucking me so fast he could barely talk. ‘And if you scream again, I am going to come, so hard.’
With one hand focusing on my asshole, the Duke now brought his other hand to my pussy, and began circling a tiny button of flesh at the top of my opening as he fucked me, making my thighs suddenly fill with sparks and uncontrollable shakes, until I could barely stand. The more that I shook and cried out, the more that the Duke seemed to like it, until finally his finger was circling my special button so fast that I screamed louder than I had ever screamed before. I felt an almighty heat rising up the insides of my thighs, spreading across my belly, and finally centring on my cunt, where I felt a swirling energy build up, and then start to pulse and throb, until my muscles were clenching and unclenching around the Duke’s dick, making him moan with lust and desire, and causing his cock to throb too, in time with my sex, so that we were just one, united mass of throbbing, coming, orgasm, and I could no longer tell which one of us was which.
Finally, the Duke began to move his cock out of me, very slowly, and when he had pulled it out completely, I was shocked to see small spurts of white fluid, still flying out of the small slit in its tip, splashing across my black belly, painting me white with his seed.
‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ said the Duke, kissing me hungrily as his cock continued to splash me with hot, white liquid. ‘I shall be fucking you every day from now on. Whether you bear me a child or not.’
Chapter 6
But, as it happened, the Duke did not have to wait long for his child. Within the space of three short months, I had begun to grow fat with his child. The Duke instructed me to tell anyone who asked that it belonged to the black stable boy, and not to him, but anyone who would have entered my chamber would have seen that I was no stable boy’s girl. The Duke informed me that for every month of my pregnancy, he would give me a more expensive gift for my chamber, until, by the ninth month, I had a four poster bed and even a chandelier in my abode, and the Duke visited me there nightly.
And you must not think for a minute, dear reader, that the Duke lost interest in me once he had spilt his seed. In fact, he seemed to grow more and more aroused, the larger my belly became. He would watch me walking around his estate, my enormous, swollen black belly on show under my transparent white dresses, and we would exchange glances, him and me, knowing that the hugeness of our secret, and the hugeness of my belly, would make our passion even greater with each passing night. In fact, the Duke barely needed to touch me in order to spill his seed these days. Just one look at my stretched black skin, full to the brim with his child, and his seed would splash across my huge stomach. I was exquisite to him, and I knew that he would put as many children in me as he could during my stay at Penzance Manor.
As for the Duchess - well, she never seemed a fan of having me around. But I had seen her once or twice, late at night, with the stable boy, as it happened… his thick black cock inside her cunt, and I knew that she was far from unfulfilled…
So as you can see, I did not exactly end up marrying my handsome prince, and becoming the princess of some magical castle somewhere… But I do feel like I got my happily ever after. Over, and over, and over again.
PART TWO
HIS DARK MEDICINE
Chapter 7
Ever since the day of my marriage to Lord Barclay, my life had been a relentless bore. Growing up, I’d always thought that marrying a Lord would be wonderful, that I’d be pampered and looked after, indulged and paraded around. I knew how lucky I was, too, being a dark-skinned woman, ending up wed to a rich, black-skinned man. It was the stuff of fairytales! It was so rare it was almost impossible to imagine! A black man - a lord! There were so few black men and women present in nineteenth century England as it was, let alone rich ones. Some of them were still slaves, for goodness sake! The fact that I’d managed to encounter a black lord- and that he had wanted to marry me - was against all odds, and it was truly marvellous!
But the truth is, once I got married, the excitement dissipated rather quickly. The black old goat was the most boring man alive, nothing like the kind of dashing young ruffian I’d always dreamed of being seduced by.
True, I lived in rich surroundings. Barclay Manor was a fine old house, and my husband had been fortunate enough to inherit after his Master’s death. He had been an honourable servant to the previous Lord Barclay for many years, and was, it seemed, his only friend. So when the old man had died, he had passed on the Manor, and all its possessions, to my husband, under the sole proviso that he change his name to Barclay, and become the new Lord and overseer of the manor. This was an accession my husband was of course perfectly pleased to make.
The manor was well appointed, and had twenty acres of private grounds in which peacocks strutted and exotic flowers bloomed. But the house was not the only old thi
ng my husband possessed. I’ll never forget my wedding night. The night a girl dreams of her whole life, a night which should mark the start of womanhood, of some kind of awakening, the sort of night which might even be the start of a new life, of that of a little son or daughter inside you. That’s not exactly what had happened to me…
The wedding celebrations were lavish. The Barclay name still carried some currency in Dorset, and the local populace had outdone themselves. I was amazed, actually, that all these white people were willing to turn up to my husband’s wedding, that they might resent him taking on his Master’s name, see him as a servant beneath his rich veneer… But it turns out that aristocrats are happy enough to spend time with other aristocrats, so long as they have a title. So there were an array of Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, even a Marquis or two. There was wine, whole roast hogs, partridge and deer to feast upon. A string quartet blasted out folk tunes and contralto singers entertained the masses. My family were delighted. My father, in particular, who worked as a humble coachman, who had never expected such heights for his only child, as well as an extremely generous dowry from Lord Barclay for himself, was as merry as they come.
‘It’s lucky you’re so beautiful and desirable, Nora,’ my father used to say to me, ‘because your looks have saved this family’s fortunes. If it weren’t for those curvy black hips and those pendulous tits, you’d be mucking out the stables of one of the other noble families.’ My mother would tell him off for the vulgar language, and we’d get back to whatever we’d been doing. For me it would be reading, for my father, it would be drinking, and sleeping with the help. He was a very merry man, most of the time.
But on my wedding day, no one was more merry than my ‘beloved’ husband. He drank cup after cup of wine, stuffed his face with rich, fatty meat, and danced drunkenly on the polished wooden floor of the summer house we celebrated in. He was not a pretty sight. An old, fat, African man; I’d reluctantly agreed to marry him in order to do best by my family. But, truth be told, I found the foul old fool repugnant. The sight of him, dressed up like some old pompadour in the ridiculous wedding suit he’d picked out, with wine stains down his bib, fair turned my stomach.
At around nine o’clock, the old idiot took centre stage on the floor. He held a golden goblet in one hand, and a little teaspoon in the other. He tapped the cup with the spoon loudly, until everyone was silent.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ he said, hiccoughing slightly at the end of his sentence, ‘thank you for coming to my house, and drinking my drink, and eating my eats!’ There was a confused, but loud cheer as he spoke. ‘And now,’ he said, his cross-eyed gaze turning upon me, ‘I’m going to take my young wife, and stretch her snatch wide open with my member!’ My mouth opened to a shocked little O shape, and I looked at my father, who suddenly didn’t look so merry, but rather as if he were about to vomit.
‘Come on my dear,’ he said. Not knowing what to do other than obey, I took hold of my husband’s wine-sodden fingers, and climbed the staircase with him toward our bedroom.
Chapter 8
We stood outside the door to the bedroom, and my husband took out the key to the room.
‘Just one momi.. mimi.. moment my dear,’ he slurred, as he moved his hand toward the keyhole. His arm waved about through the air. Truly, I’d never seen anyone as inebriated as this in my whole life, not even father, who could put his drinks away with the best of them. He tried to find the lock a few times with the key, and then, pushed it straight into the wood of the door, causing the key to fall from his hand onto the carpet below.
‘Blasted door, always moving about,’ he said. ‘Nora my dear, unlock the door for me. Bend over and pick up the key.’ I could see him leering, looking straight down my top at my cleavage, pushed together by the corset I wore underneath my wedding dress. I sighed, and bent over. As I did, I felt his gnarled old hands on my calves, then my knees, then my thighs. He pawed at me as I grabbed the key and put it in the door, just before he managed to touch my rump. I shook away from him, and pushed my way into the room. I would consummate my marriage, of course, I knew my responsibilities, but not out in the corridor like some common whore! He laughed as he stumbled over the doorway and landed in a heap on the bed, which was just inside the room.
‘Come now, come, my pretty young wife,’ he said, ‘let me see what all of my money bought for me!’
He lay on the bed with his head on the pillow, and looked at me. I was wearing an understated little bridal dress, with white stockings and the aforementioned corset, as well as the traditional garter and little shoes. I suppose I was going to have to take them off for him. As I reached around to my back and began to unclasp the buttons on its rear, I heard a loan groan come from my husband’s mouth. I looked down at his crotch, where it looked as though something huge and bulbous was straining to get out! Could it be that this pathetic old man was hiding some dark secret? Suddenly, I felt a rush of excitement in my nether regions. Maybe I’d be getting more than I bargained for.
So, I turned my attention to my dress. I unhooked it and let the little piece of white fabric fall to the ground. I stood in front of my husband in just my underwear now, my corset and gartered legs on full display.
‘Oh yes… a fine filly,’ I heard him murmur. I looked at his crotch again, and I saw that something was definitely moving down there.
‘Lord Barclay,’ I said bravely, intrigued by the stirring in his pantaloons, undoing the clasps at the side of my corset, ‘your young wife is going to give you a wedding night to remember!’ Then I undid the constricting fabric, letting my full, ripe, dark-skinned bosoms tumble down, feeling their bounce and weight. I’d been the focus of attention for many young men in the area because of my body for years, but my breasts had been the talk of town. Some of the young scamps had openly asked me to see them, and one young boy, Patrick, had told me that he had many times spilled his seed, just thinking about touching my teats.
‘Mmmm,’ he moaned. I looked again at his trousers and felt a flood of fluid down in my knickers. It was time to see what was going on. Moving like a cat, I crawled up to the bottom of the bed, before carefully moving on to it. Then, I crept over him, before placing my hand on his groin. A hard, rod-like object was under there. I looked up at his face, giving him the dirtiest look I could, only to see that he was asleep!
Sure enough, a little snore emitted from his mouth. Unbelievable! Well, I wasn’t going to go without taking a peek at his member, was I? Gingerly, so as not to wake him, I undid the buttons at his crotch, and took down his trousers. Underneath, was a beast of a penis. This black monster was still turgid, thick with blood, even though its master slumbered.
Cautiously, trying not to wake him, I lay a hand on it. I’d never touched a man’s private parts before, and I was stunned to see that it was soft, as well as hard, and very, very warm. He moaned, and pushed himself upward in his sleep. Feeling my breathing become ragged and heavy with lust, I gripped his member in my hand, and started to slowly move my hand up and down its length. I couldn’t believe how erotic I was finding this, how incredible the sensation of his hardness made me feel. Then, not knowing what had taken control of me, I pursed my lips, and began to kiss his weapon. All over it, like a thousand butterflies had landed on the beast, I moved my lips, and then licked the hot meat, then enveloped it with my lips. The taste was salty and earthy. I wondered how many other had tasted this meat, and my hand made it’s way exploratorially down to my nether regions. Then, I sucked as hard as I could.
With a sort of strained, garbled cry, I felt my husband’s meat begin to pulse and dance in my mouth, and then, a thick, salty fluid filled my mouth. Shocked, I swallowed it down, then, when I looked up, I saw my husband’s face, full of surprise and terror, totally awake. Then, with a sudden, soporific expression, his head jerked back, and he was once again asleep.
Chapter 9
When I woke the following morning, I was amazed to find that I was alone in bed. It w
as late, as I could tell by the sun coming through the shutters, and my husband was nowhere to be seen. On the desk by the window, however, was a letter, sealed in an envelope. To Nora, it said on the front. Intrigued, I opened up the paper as quick as I could.
My dear wife,
What happened between us last night was…unhealthy. The act which you performed on me was wicked. The spilling of a man’s seed into a woman’s mouth, while pleasurable, is profane, as there is no chance of a life growing in the woman’s belly. This sort of behaviour is intolerable from a woman to her husband, and it needs to be taught out of you. To this end, I am sending you to a specialist in these matters, a Doctor friend of mine who is an expert when it comes to educating women. You seem to have a mental malady, and Doctor Smith will help to cure it in you.
His methods might seem severe, but believe me, it is for your own good. I know that to take such swift action might seem cruel, but I like to nip this sort of insubordination in the bud, as soon as possible. I hope that when I see you, in a few weeks time, you are ready to accept my mighty black rod into your ebony quim, with the kind of wet anticipation which the best wives keep for their husbands. I will put a baby in you, I swear it!
