The Duke Wants Her Curves: Taboo Historical BBW Forbidden Erotic Rubenesque Romance

by Kimberley Clarke

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  TEASER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE DUKE WANTS HER CURVES

  Kimberley Clarke

  This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the copyright holder. This story contains explicit content that is intended for adult audiences only. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older. Copyright © 2015 Kimberley Clarke. All rights reserved. Logo Image © Photochatree, bigstockphoto.com. Cover Image © romancephotos, depositphotos.com - © disorderly, depositphotos

  TEASER

  It took me some considerable time to work out exactly how to put on the outfit the Duke had bought for me. It consisted of leather belts, strapped tight around my body. My breasts bulged around the leather and the hard material cut into the ample flesh around my hips. There was a hole in the centre of the pubic strap. I knew exactly what that hole was for.

  My room was sparsely decorated. There was a lavish double bed, with two hooks jutting out from the posts at the top. I’d been informed that I was to loop the leather from my arms into the hooks on the bed. The Duke told me to prepare myself for him at eight o’clock, and that I was to be ready for him to come and take me. He’d told me that I was to touch myself beforehand, so that I was wet and ready for him, but, to be truthful, the thought of the Duke coming and fucking me was enough to make me seep from my kitty.

  I mounted the bed and attached myself to the hooks, and I waited. Soon, I heard the sound of the Duke’s boot on the stairs on the way up. Eventually, I heard the rich, resonant sound of the Duke’s voice somewhere behind me.

  ‘Well, well well, I must apologise for keeping you waiting for so long, my plump little treat, but there was urgent business to which I had to attend. Now though, we are simply left with the matter of pleasure.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  Before I met the Duke, life was beautifully simple.

  Perhaps it sounds rather prim to say this, but my childhood was utter bliss. I have always believed that good behavior breeds good fortune, and as a child, I was as well-behaved as they come. Though my father often remarked that my ‘sunshine blond hair would get me into trouble one day’, I was far from troubled as a young girl. I would run through the fields of barley neighbouring our humble country cottage, laughing and squealing with delight, and of course, most often of all, I would spend time with my lovely little pony, Dobbin. It was a rather silly name for an animal, I know, but I loved that dear creature.

  I was devastated when Dobbin departed this world. Honestly, it was the only bad thing that had ever happened to me, and it hit me hard. I swear, I was so head over heels for that beast that I would’ve married him if I could. On my sixteenth birthday, my mother and father gave me a present: a wonderful, gleaming blonde foal.

  ‘His fur matches your hair,’ said my father, giving me a stern look. ‘The two of you will get into some scrapes together, mark my words.’ Soon, my father’s frown crinkled up into a wide smile, and he rubbed my hair. ‘You two get to know each other for a while. Your mother and I are going to market.’

  Those words, gentle reader, were the last I heard from my father’s mouth.

  I’d never seen a police constable before, and when the thick-mustachioed man appeared on the doorstep with a stern look on his face, I knew something was wrong. My parents had been a victim of their own charity. They used to walk through the dangerous parts of York whenever they went in for a market day, giving alms to the poor. The police officer explained to me that a particularly unruly gang of miscreants had taken offence at the act, and things had very quickly become violent. Needless to say, as a sixteen year old, I was spared the more gory details.

  I didn’t have much time to grieve, and was sent immediately to stay with my uncle Norman on his sprawling farm in the middle of The Dales, the most rugged and beautiful area of Yorkshire. My uncle was a no-nonsense sort of man, and I was immediately put to work. Life was sad and lonely with my parents gone, but my uncle didn’t exactly take pity on me. I always thought that he was angry to have to look after me, and that maybe he would have been less stern had my parents still been alive.

  ‘You’re my flesh and blood, Briony, but by God if you don’t shift your weight, I’ll have you sling your hook,’ he would say to me. My blonde foal, who I’d called Honey, was to be trained as a work horse on the farm, to help pull one of the huge ploughs across arable fields as and when my uncle required. I watched Uncle Norman whipping Honey’s back with a harsh looking leather strap, wincing each time it made contact with his skin.

  ‘They don’t feel it, Briony, beasts of burden. That’s why God put them on this earth, to help man.’ My uncle had very old-fashioned opinions on almost anything you care to talk about, and I longed for company of my own age. My only companion was Robert, the stable boy. He lived in a village not too far away and would come up to the farm every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday to muck out the stables in which the horses lived. He was a ruddy-looking boy, and well-built for a lad of only sixteen. We used to play together after we’d finished our chores. He used to call me Sunny, on account of the golden colour of my hair, and we used to chase each other all around the golden fields in the dipping evening sun.

  I must admit that I changed a lot in those two years. I turned to the comfort of food and eating, to try to cope with the burden of grief my parents’ death left me with. I began to fill out, and then, I went a little past filling out. My arms and legs became creamy and full, my breasts and buttocks became swollen with curvaceous flesh. My uncle was loathe to buy me new clothes and so, I found my body would almost spill out of the tight fitting dresses and skirts I was forced to wear. The funny thing is, my new appearance didn’t seem to upset Robert. In fact, I began to notice that Robert had started to look at me a little different, and truth be told, I started to think about him a bit differently, too.

  On a hazy afternoon in late August, the two of us were strolling along the southern border of the farm’s biggest sheep paddock. The field was on a gentle slope, and I could see down into the valley across the stream, hear the gentle lapping sound of water, smell the almost-ripe cereal crop in the bordering field.

  ‘It’s a beautiful evening, ain’t it, Sunny,’ said Robert. He looked fresh and strong this evening, with his dungarees loosely over his shoulders and a sheaf of wheat bobbing as he clamped its end between his teeth.

  ‘That it is, Rob,’ I replied. Rob seemed a little more anxious than usual this evening. Around twenty minutes from home, he stopped walking and gave me this really funny look.

  ‘Briony,’ it was strange to hear him call me by my real name. I was so used to him calling me Sunny I didn’t realise for a moment that he was talking to me at all. ‘Briony, I know how fond of you I am, don’t you?’ I felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment.

  ‘I know, Robert,’ I said, looking down at the ground.

  ‘Well, there’s something I want to ask you. In fact, I think I’ve wanted to ask you it ever since we met.’

  I felt my pulse quicken in my heart, my chest rising and falling with large, anxious gulps. Robert slowly got down on one knee, and then, he looked me in the eye and opened his mouth to speak. But the voice that I heard next was not Robert’s.

/>   CHAPTER TWO

  ‘And just what do the two of you think that you are doing?’ It was a harsh, cold voice, haughty and superior. I looked up to find its source and saw a dark figure on the back of a huge grey steed. The man was dressed in a travelling cloak and his face was pale. He had a large, bushy moustache, and in his right hand was a cruel-looking leather riding crop. Both Robert and I looked up at the man, dumbstruck, our surprise plain to see in our faces.

  ‘Well? Don’t you think an answer is in order? You are on my grounds after all. Young people should hardly be out canoodling in plain sight, don’t you think.’

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon sir,’ Robert said, rising to his feet and doffing his cap to the man, ‘I didn’t realise that the landlord would be out and about so late of an evening.’

  ‘Quite. I shouldn’t wonder that there are quite a few things that you don’t realise,’ he said, with a snort of derision. ‘You, woman, who are you?’ He pointed straight at me with the riding crop. I felt a strange chill as he turned his attention to me. It was almost as though I could feel the smooth leather of the crop against my quivering cheek.

  ‘Sorry sir, I mean, my lord,’ I said, bumbling over my words, ‘I’m Briony, farmer Norman’s niece, here just to work on the farm.’

  ‘Briony, eh?’ said the man. ‘How funny Norman didn’t tell me that he had a niece working on the farm. How funny. Particularly when she is such a pretty thing. Plump and thick like a beautiful heffer. Eh, Robert? Do you think she’s pretty?’

  I could feel Robert’s discomfort as the man sneered at the two of us. His eyes were the clearest, brightest blue I’d ever seen, and they were set above high cheekbones. His whole face was twisted into a grimace of cruel pleasure, as he watched Robert squirm.

  ‘Of course I,’ he started. He looked flustered. ‘I mean Briony’s a very old friend, she’s, she’s like a sister to me.’

  ‘Like a sister, eh? Didn’t look like you were about to do something particularly brotherly to me.’ I felt my cheeks begin to redden in the evening sun.

  ‘Well, I mean, she’s pretty and all,’ Robert wrung his cap in his hands as he tried to think of something he could say to get out of this pickle.

  ‘Anyway, never mind. I have quite a bit to be getting on with.’ He yanked the reins of the horse as it turned for him, then lightly smacked its rump with the leather of the riding crop. ‘You’ll be hearing from me soon, Briony.’

  When the man was far enough away, I turned to Robert. My heart was still beating like thunder, and I could feel sweat pooling on my palms.

  ‘Who was that, Rob?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know? That was the Duke of Skipton! He owns the land of your uncle Norman’s farm.’

  The Duke of Skipton. The name was cold and hard, like a knife. ‘So he’s rich is he?’

  ‘One of the richest men in the country. People say that he always gets what he wants.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t like him anyway. What were you going to ask me Robert.’

  He looked at me with a sad smile, then turned to face the setting sun.

  ‘Oh don’t worry Briony. It’ll wait until tomorrow.’ But I was never to find out what it was Robert wanted to ask of me. The very next day, my life changed forever.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I woke to the sound of my uncle shouting like a madman down in the living room.

  ‘We’re rich! We’re rich! Thank the lord above! Finally, some luck!’ His gruff voice reverberated around the house like gunfire. I roused myself quickly and dragged on a smock before trotting down the stairs as quickly as I could.

  ‘What’s going on, Uncle?’ He turned to face me, and the grin on his face was the widest I’d ever seen.

  ‘Oh you wonderful girl! You darling creature! You’ve made me a very, very happy man.’ This was, without question, the happiest I’d ever seen my uncle. His were positively twinkling, and he was beaming with joy.

  ‘What do you mean? What have I done?’

  ‘Look!’ he said, brandishing a piece of folded paper in front of me. ‘A message, from the Duke of bloody Skipton, delivered to the house this very morning. By a courier, no less. No expense spared, poppet, none whatsoever.’ He’d never called me poppet before, that’s for sure. I took the message and started to read.

  Dear Norman,

  I had the pleasure, yesterday evening, of meeting your delightfully plump niece for the first time. I must confess that I was quite taken with her. I must have her. I intend to make her my wife, in exchange for a dowry of no less than three thousand pounds. I will send a surgeon who I trust to your house next Tuesday to carry out the necessary medical examination. The money will be paid into an account of your choosing whenever you please.

  Please give Briony my most kind, warm greeting.

  Yours faithfully,

  Duke Marcus of Skipton

  As I read the letter, a mixture of utter terror and strange, prickly excitement began to take hold of me. Not only had the Duke noticed me, but he wanted to marry me? What an odd, impulsive man. He’d seemed so cruel to me at the time, and so oddly twisted, but perhaps passion and spontaneity beat within his breast. I thought about his riding crop, about the way he’d used it on that grey horse, about the way he seemed to have total mastery over the beast. He was a real man, an adult. I would have never thought for a second that someone like that would be interested in me.

  ‘Should I say yes?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you mean, Bri?’ said my uncle, looking at my with a sudden intensity.

  ‘I mean, should I marry him? I’d never even considered that a nobleman might want to marry me. I always thought I’d end up with someone like Robert or, I don’t know, a butcher or something…’

  ‘Briony,’ said my uncle, suddenly deadly serious, ‘you’re going to marry the Duke. You don’t have a choice in the matter. He will give you a very good life, a much better life than I could ever dream of giving you. And you’ll be a good wife to him. You’ll do all of the things he asks of you, and you’ll be dutiful and kind. Do you understand?’ A little scared, I nodded at my uncle. ‘You’re going a be a Duchess, you stupid girl. It’s a miracle that anyone is interested in you, on account of your prodigious size. You’ve got no chance with anyone else worthwhile. And you can put all thoughts of Robert and bloody butchers out of your mind. You and I have been plucked out of this shitty little life for some reason, God knows why, and you’re not going to ruin it for either of us, d’you hear?’

  I nodded again, and felt a sudden urge to cry, to let little pinpricks of tears form and fall at the corners of my eyes. As always, my thoughts turned to food, to cream and to jam, just anything to stop the tears. I restrained myself. Little did I know that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d have to hold back tears because of the Duke.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Four days later, the doctor arrived. I’d not been allowed to do any work on the farm since my uncle received the letter from the Duke. It sounds like a holiday, but it had been incredibly boring for me. My had bought me a book on decorum called ‘How To Be A Lady’ and he’d made me read it almost every hour of the day. I had to learn how to pronounce my words proper and to walk with a book on my head. It was tough, and to be honest, the book spent more time on the floor than it did balanced on top of me.

  So when the doctor appeared, it was a sort of relief. He was an odd looking man. He wore a starchy, crisp-looking white coat, and had a thick, grey, bushy moustache. His hair was swept back and oily, and he carried a little leather bag with him. He gripped it very tight, making his knuckles look almost snow white.

  My uncle let him into the front room and made him a cup of tea, while I prepared a scone with cream and jam for the man.

  ‘I will of course require a bench or bed of some sort on which I can carry out the examination.’

  ‘No problem,’ said my uncle, ‘you can take her up to her bedroom, if you like. There should be plenty of room there.
’

  ‘Yes, that will suffice,’ said the doctor. When I’d asked my uncle exactly what sort of medical examination would be taking place, he’d told me that it would just be a taking of my temperature, seeing whether I stood up straight, if I limped or anything. I wondered why a bed would be required at all.

  After the funny little man had finished his tea and had managed to coat a good portion of his moustache in cream from the scone, he clapped his hands together loudly and looked straight at me.

  ‘Well my dear, let’s get started. The sooner we begin, the sooner the whole business will be over.’ The doctor’s voice was thin and quiet, like the sound a mouse might make while scrabbling around, trying not to be seen. He made me walk up the staircase in front of him, and for some reason, I felt as though I could sense his eyes on my backside as we made our way up. I opened the door to my room and waited inside. He took out a little clipboard from his bag and started to scribble some notes on a piece of paper which was fastened to its surface.

  ‘The Duke certainly wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke of your, ahem, size, was he dear. You are a most, shall we say, curvaceous young women.’

  I blushed and felt awkward, as though there were little currents of electricity playing over my skin.

  ‘Don’t worry, Briony, it won’t affect the examination. Firstly, a quick question, and then we can begin.’ I nodded, silent and nervous. ‘The question is, have you ever let a boy take advantage of you?’

  I was taken aback.

  ‘What do you mean, Doctor?’

  ‘What I mean is, have you ever let a boy put a part of himself into a part of you?’ It finally twigged. The doctor was talking about sex. Had I ever let a man put his ‘serpent’ into my ‘cave’? Well I was pleased to be able to answer that question quickly and honestly.