Sinful Lust: Taboo Historical Erotica Box Set

by Celia Strapp

  And then, suddenly, I felt the Duke grind into me hard, shouting out my name, and then I felt his cock swell and throb inside me, and I knew then that he was filling me up with all his seed.

  ‘Oh, Sapphire!’ he shouted. ‘That’s eighteen years of seed inside me, waiting until you were ripe!’

  I felt my cunny muscles clenching again, this time trying to take the seed as far and high inside me as it could go, and as I tightened my muscles I felt myself suddenly losing control, the muscles spasming and my thighs shaking, and I held onto the Duke, frightened, wondering if I had just been struck down by God for my sins.

  ‘No need to look so frightened, girl,’ said the Duke, smiling, and holding me tight in his arms. ‘You’ve just had your first orgasm. The Lord isn’t angry with you. He loves you.’

  And when I heard those words, dear reader, particularly the word ‘love’, I swear to you, as strange and sorry as the whole situation was, I lay back, panting, never happier. I knew that I was going to be safe here, under the Duke’s control, and for the first time in my life, I think I lived up to my name: I truly sparkled.

  Chapter 17

  Shortly after that, Mary guided me up to my new room, and I followed her up the stairs, cold and exposed and naked. Mary was good enough not to comment on it, although to be quite honest she appeared as unsurprised by my nudity as if I had come out fully-clothed. Had she had to go through this process once herself, I wondered?

  ‘Here we are then,’ said Mary, stopping outside a grand-looking wooden door. ’Your new chamber.’

  She opened the door, and led me in to a fantastically grand bedchamber, with a four-poster bed, a porcelain chamber pot, and a fireplace. ‘Oh no!’ I exclaimed. ‘There must be some mistake…’

  ‘No mistake,’ said Mary, smiling. ‘This one’s yours.’

  ‘So your room is like this too?’ I asked, flabbergasted.

  ‘Oh no, Miss,’ said Mary, shocked at my question. ‘I’m just a humble servant. You…’ At this point, her eyes began to trail, slowly and deliberately down my naked frame… ‘you are special.’

  ‘In what way?’ I asked, wondering what terrible mistake there had been, some sort of grievous error and mix-up that had led to me being here, in one of the Duke’s most desirable chambers.

  Mary shook her head and laughed heartily. ‘Oh dearie me,’ she chuckled. ‘You don’t know much, do you, Miss? You’re no maidservant. ‘She cast me a strange, dark look. ‘You’re to be the Duke’s little harlot.’

  I couldn’t help it, despite the warning from my previous Madame, at this moment, dear reader, my jaw quite dropped to the floor.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. All will be revealed to you, in good time. First thing’s first, we need to get you strapped up in bed.’

  Strapped? In bed?

  I had no idea what Mary was talking about. Such strange and fanciful things had been escaping from her mouth ever since I had entered this house that I had half a mind to think this was some sort of elaborate dream, perhaps brought on by a fever, and I would wake up in my bunk at the orphanage any moment, and continue on with my old life.

  ‘Get in,’ said Mary, lifting back the soft, satin sheets, and motioning me to lie down.

  In this strange, dreamlike state, I could do nothing but obey, and lay down on the sheets, aware of how rotten my body was next to something so clean, feeling regretful at how dirty I must be making the bed linen.

  ‘Time to strap you in,’ cooed Mary, as I have heard that mothers coo their children at bedtime, though, having never had such fortune as to have a mother in this world, I did not know.

  Mary took one of my wrists, with quite a terrible pressure, if truth be told, almost making me cry out in pain, and then she lifted a leather strap from the side of the bed, and buckled me into place. She did the same with the other wrist, and then took my ankles in the same rough way, shackling them to the outsides of the bed too, leaving me lying there, splayed and naked.

  ‘What’s happening to me?’ I asked, terrified, feeling how exposed my sex was, split open for Mary to see.

  ‘What’s happening, indeed,’ chuckled Mary, as she walked to the edge of the room, taking a big jug and bowl in her strong arms. ‘What’s happening, my dear, is I’m giving you a nice big wash.’

  Chapter 18

  Mary looked at me and smiled. ‘Looks like today’s your big day,’ she said, and pulled a sponge out of the bowl, then poured warm water out from the jug into the large porcelain bowl. ‘We’ll get you nice and ready for him.’

  She made an expression as if she’d just remembered something, and then walked to the edge of the room and procured a towel, then return to me.

  ‘What do you mean? What big day?’ I asked, wondering if I was about to be married!

  ‘You get to fulfil your role today,’ she said, dipping the sponge into the bowl of water.

  ‘You’re one of the lucky ones. He’s chosen you.’ Mary sounded almost jealous. It couldn’t be that she was jealous of me, could it?

  ‘Chosen me?’

  Mary dipped the sponge in the warm water, and then lifted it out and squeezed out some warm water onto my stomach. The water smelt of violets. It smelt like water should smell, not like the stuff we’d been forced to bathe in at the orphanage

  The warm, sweet, violet-scented water soothed my skin, and I couldn’t help watching Mary’s beautiful breasts, poking out of her top as she washed me. She was so pretty, and yet, somehow, it seemed, I was ‘the chosen one’. Whatever that meant. What was it Mary had said? I was to be his harlot? I wasn’t even sure what that word meant, but I knew it wasn’t normally used in polite conversation…

  Mary sponged my stomach, my legs, my neck, my breasts and nipples, and then, finally, she placed the sponge on my soft, pink sex. She dabbed it gently over the sensitive lips, cleaning me thoroughly and carefully, making my slit tingle with delight. ‘Mary,’ I found myself begging, all of a sudden, ‘keep the sponge there a little longer.’

  Mary looked up at me and smiled. ‘Of course,’ she said, and she rubbed the sponge up and down each fragile fold, moving it in tiny circles around my most sensitive part, making me moan out loud all of a sudden, so loud that perhaps the Duke would hear me! Seeing how much I was enjoying myself, Mary rubbed me harder and harder, pushing the tip of the sponge into my soft, moist hole, and then, just as I began gasping in great lungfuls of air, she took away the sponge, and squeezed the excess moisture in the bowl. ‘That’ll do,’ she said.

  She put the bowl on the floor and then dried me thoroughly with the towel, careful not to let any wetness fall onto the sheets beneath me.

  ‘Looks like you’re all ready,’ she said, finally, with a satisfied cluck, and then she walked out of the room, leaving me lying there, naked and shivering, but smelling the sweetest and freshest I’d ever felt in my life. Not that that freshness was to last much longer.

  Chapter 19

  I must have been lying in that strange, expensive room, some twenty minutes or so, splayed out wide on the mattress,naked and fearful, until, finally, I heard a short rap at the door. Before I could answer, the door began to open, and then into the room, walked the terrifying and hungry-looking Duke of Bedfordshire.

  ‘Excellent,’ said the Duke, as he walked in, smoothing his clothes and walking right up to the end of the bed, his eyes focused in on that one soft spot between my thighs. ‘You’ll do very well indeed.’

  He then walked around to the side of the bed, and began touching himself, in his most private of parts, while looking at my body with such ravishing pleasure as it actually made me forget my terror for a moment, and I felt – I don’t know – almost proud.

  ‘My filthy, dirty little harlot,’ said the Duke, staring at me, and I almost wondered whether Mary hadn’t done a good enough job of cleaning me, and that the stench was still upon my skin. But then I realised that I contained a sort of stench that would never truly disappear – the stench of my upbringing, of my lowly beginn
ings in life, of my fishmonger mother and of the orphanage for wayward children. And there was something about that stench that pleased this fine, aristocratic man.

  A moment later, the Duke undid something at the very centre of his pantaloons, and set free an enormous pink thing from between his legs, long and monstrous-looking, like a one-eyed sea monster, out to eat me. I almost screamed!

  ‘Hush hush, child,’ said the Duke, stroking the pink creature with a wicked grin. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a man’s manhood before?’

  Something about the look of it triggered an early memory, of being back on the ship, hearing the sailors stroking themselves at night time, and the servant girls moaning as they lay in hammocks with the sailors. Maybe I had seen one of these before, from a distance, but I had never seen anything as big and strong as this one!

  ‘You do understand,’ said the Duke, stroking his member with one hand and freeing himself of his shirt with the other, revealing a chest of wiry hair, so coarse and different-looking to any female chest I’d ever seen, ‘you do understand what it means, once we’ve committed this act, don’t you?’

  Lying there with my limbs splayed apart, I had nothing else to do, but shake my head. ‘No sir,’ I said quietly. ‘I do not.’ Was he talking about marriage?

  The Duke took off the remainder of his garments, so that he was standing there before me quite, quite naked, and then he began to laugh. ‘So stupid,’ he said. ‘Such a wretched little fool, aren’t you?’ Then his expression lost all of its glee, and he said, with utmost sincerity. ‘Once I have entered you, and taken your precious little flower, without marrying you, you will remain my harlot. For as long as I should wish.’

  I swallowed, feeling my heartbeat rising in my chest, aware of the smell of his sexual organ, almost overpowering my nostrils with its manliness. I noticed that my sexual organ had a smell too. I could feel a sort of moisture glistening around it, something I had not really felt there before, and noticed a sweet, fragrant, almost salty odour escaping from between my soft pink lips.

  ‘It seems as though the lady consents,’ said the Duke, his face moving close up to my trembling little quim, and then crawling onto the bed beside me, so that he was on top of me, on all fours, like a lion, ready to pounce.

  His long, sturdy member stuck up straight, at a right-angle between his legs, and I wondered how something so large would ever fit into my small, tight socket.

  ‘Please…’ I found myself begging, breathless, but I wasn’t sure if I was begging him to stop, or start.

  The Duke, hearing my words, plunged his enormous manhood between my legs, and I felt a pressure at the top of my thighs for a moment, then a pushing, squeezing sort of sensation, and then, I felt myself growing wetter, opening up like a flower coated in morning dew, to take him into me, into depths inside me that I never knew I had.

  ‘Duke…’ I moaned.

  The Duke’s lips brushed my cheek, and I wondered whether he was going to kiss me, but then he moved his mouth an few inches to one side, and I felt how warm, sharp teeth, biting down on my ear lobe.

  ‘Ow!’ I squealed, wondering if he’d drawn blood. ‘Stop that, you brute!’ I couldn’t help myself crying out, disobedient as I knew it was.

  The Duke, shocked by my outcry, stopping thrusting his long, splendid member inside my delicate quim, and withdrew it so far that just the very tip was pressing at my moist opening. He sat over me, the only part of him touching me now was just the tip of his manhood, and I willed him to put it back in.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I cried. ‘It was just a surprise. I’m so sorry. Please… carry on!’

  The Duke’s expression did not attempt to hide how displeased he was. ‘Never before have I seen such insolence,’ he said, his big meaty cock still resting on my opening. ‘And it shall not go unpunished.’

  He looked down at my naked pubis, and then lifted a hand high into the air. Then he smacked me, hard, on the buttock, and his cock slid back into me.

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, sir!’ I cried, the tears rolling down my cheeks. ‘Thank you!’ I felt so unbelievably grateful, both to have been punished, and for him to be pushing himself into me once more, that I was completely beside myself.

  ‘Disobey me again and I’ll chain you up in the basement,’ he growled, and at that same moment he grabbed my tiny, rosebud breasts, and I saw his back arch, and then felt his manhood throb inside me, releasing a warm, thick liquid deep inside my sex.

  ‘Thank you,’ I moaned again, still thirsty and ablaze with passion, hoping for more, but noticing, puzzled, that the Duke had now stopped thrusting inside me.

  ‘That will be all for today,’ he said, withdrawing, leaving my little pink slit wide open, gaping and wet, gasping for more.

  ‘My little harlot needs to learn her place bit by bit,’ he said, looking down at me with, I think, a mixture of disgust and pride.

  And then he put on his shirt and pantaloons, and, without saying another word, he walked out of the room, leaving my lying there, forever changed.

  *

  But let me assure you, dear reader, that this was by no means the end of the story. No– oh no– this was just the sorry little beginning. For it wasn’t just my deflowering that made me into the harlot I am today. What happened the next day, and the one after, and the one after that…

  Well, that is quite another story.

  And I am not sure that you are quite ready to hear it yet.

  Hungry for more?

  THE SCARLETT COURTESAN

  Anne-Marie is a fiery eighteen-year-old determined to make a better life for herself than the poverty she was born into. She begins to notice that she has one asset that can help her make her way in the world: her beautiful looks.

  When Anne-Marie finally manages to earn enough money to dress herself in a fetching, if rather revealing Baroque dress, she is surprised at the effect is has upon a particular stern but handsome Parisian gentleman, and even more surprised when she finds herself traveling to the Palace of Versailles with him.

  And that's where she becomes his scarlet courtesan...

  THE BARON’S LITTLE BRIDE

  When beautiful eighteen year old Prudence Westbridge finds out that her father has arranged for her to be married to the wicked Baron Of Dorcester without her consent, she is furious and terrified. With the Baron's reputation for perversion, she knows she'll never be able to love him.

  But when she finally meets the masculine, commanding figure of the Baron, she feels her defenses wear away, and her affection for him grows. The strong hand of his corporal discipline teaches her what it will be like to take her place as the new Baroness Of Dorcester.

  Soon, she'll be strapped in to her marital bed and ready to become a woman. Soon, she'll be totally unprotected from his huge appetite.

  THE DUKE’S LITTLE HARLOT

  When fiery eighteen year old redhead Anya Higgins starts to work for the mysterious Duke of Bedfordshire, she is an innocent young maiden.

  The Duke shows her things which change her forever. As the worlds of pain and pleasure start to merge into one, Anya takes on a new role, that of The Duke's Little Harlot.

  This is the full three part story of The Duke's Little Harlot, and her filthy fall from grace, collected here in a single, saucy, bumper edition.

  This dark, historical, erotic novella contains mature themes including corporal punishment, humiliation and other explicit content.

  Read on for an extract of The Duke’s Little Harlot…

  Are you sitting comfortably, dear reader? For I have a strange and unusual little tale to tell you. If you’re the sort of shy, retiring mouse that likes to read about kind young barons and benevolent old matriarchs, bumbling through a life of eternal happy endings, then perhaps this isn’t the story for you…

  If, however, you have ever sat close to a raging fire, and been tempted to stick your fingertips into the flames, just for a second, just for the thrill of it… Or if you have ever sat atop a towering clifft
op, looking down onto the raging sea beneath, wondering how it might feel to dive in, swallowing bucketfuls of sea water, just to taste it washing over your tongue… Of it you have heard strange creaks and moans in the middle of the night, and – rather than fearing what monsters lurk out there in the darkness – you have willed those ghoulish creatures to come closer to you… then my curious little tale might just be for you.

  But let me assure you, my dear, dear reader, that the tale I am about to share with you is not a tale of monsters nor dragons. This is not a fantastical whimsy, created as some mere game to tickle your fancy. This tale, I promise you, is quite, quite true. For it happened to me, and it is still happening, right now, truth be told. As I write this tale upon an old, stained piece of parchment, with this rough and rather sorry looking quill, I am sure, now more than ever, that it is time to share my tale. To let you know exactly what the Duke of Bedfordshire is really like, in case you too befall the same, stark fate as me…