Rough Erotica

by Lexi Lovelost

  “Hello, who are you?”

  I offered him a quick curtsey. “I’m Katherine Atworthy, Brother. I’m here to see the Duke of Norfolk.”

  “Just like that, eh? Why should His Grace consent to see you, lass?”

  “My father was Sir William Atworthy, loyal liege to the Duke’s father. Before he died, he willed me to Castle Acre and the Duke’s service.”

  “Ah, that’s different, then. Come with me, child. Fortunately, the Duke is in residence.”

  I followed him into the great castle, gazing about me in awe. Colorful banners and tapestries hung from the stone walls. More men-at-arms lounged in here, pikes and halberds in their fists, eyeing me with curiosity as the monk led me past them and up a wide staircase. Oak doors to private chambers were set into the walls on the upper levels. The corridor circled around, and the monk led me to another huge set of doors.

  He knocked. They opened to reveal a tall aging butler with thinning hair and a hooked nose. He eyed both of us with a hint of disdain, but listened as the monk explained who I was. “I will inquire of His Grace,” the butler intoned, then shut the door. I waited, nervous, fearing the Duke would send me away without consenting to seeing me. What will happen to me then?

  The butler returned within a few minutes, and ushered me in. The monk returned the way we had come, and I stepped into the Duke of Norfolk’s private apartments. A huge bed covered in quilts and furs with dark red hangings pushed aside dominated one wall. Beautifully carved redwood tables and chairs held vases of sweet-smelling flowers, assorted bottles and decanters of wine and the Duke’s half-eaten dinner. Tapestries depicting hunting and battle scenes hung from the walls, and two hounds wrestled on a bed of straw near the huge fireplace. He himself sat behind a table littered with parchment, a quill in his hand.

  I approached the table, and dipped low into a curtsey. “Your Grace.”

  “Welcome, my dear,” he said, setting the ink into its well. “You are the daughter of my father’s old friend. Sir William has died, then?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. I have his will here.”

  Digging the thick parchment from my sack, I curtseyed again as I set it before him, then stepped back. Picking it up, he broke the seal and began to read. About the same age as my father, perhaps in his forties, the Duke was handsome. Thick dark hair fell to his collar, his jaw square, his deep-set grey eyes occasionally flicked toward me as he read. I waited, trying not to fidget, my nervousness rising. What if he turned me away? Or sent me to a nunnery?

  At last he set my father’s will on the table, and smiled. He had very nice, even white teeth. “Your father served mine with loyalty and honor, and thus I have an obligation to you, Lady Katherine. You may reside here within these walls until such time as I find you a suitable husband. You have a small dower?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Taking the small leather bag from my sack and passed that to him. Untying the thong, he glanced inside before setting it next to the will. “I will keep this in my custody as you are now my ward.”

  Rising from his chair, he stepped around the table. I dipped into another curtsey, but his hand under my chin brought me up. His fingers tilted my face back so that our eyes met.

  “You are an exquisitely beautiful girl, Lady Katherine,” he murmured. His other hand brushed a tendril of my hair, coiled at the nape of my neck, from my brow. “Such a color. Like the autumn leaves – red, yet nut-brown with hints of gold. Never before have I seen its like.”

  I blushed, not knowing what to say. Thinking I should say something, I stammered, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “I wish for you to dine with me this evening,” he said, stepping away from me. “I will arrange suitable quarters for you.”

  “Your Grace is kind.”

  He chuckled. “That I am, I fear. And my name is John, and I wish you to address me as such.”

  “Very well – John,” I replied, smiling up at him, my nervousness at last washing away. “My father always called me Kate.”

  “Beautiful name. James, will you come in here?”

  The tall butler appeared as though by sorcery, and bowed.

  “Give the lady here my mother’s apartments, James,” John said, returning to his seat behind the table. “She is my ward and of noble birth. Leave me for now, dear Kate. Refresh yourself, and I will summon you directly.”

  I curtseyed again, and followed the butler from the Duke’s chambers, my spirits soaring. The Duke of Norfolk’s ward! Under his protection, my birthright acknowledged. It seemed almost too good to be true. I almost danced down the corridor behind the stoic butler, who led me only a short distance. The double oak doors he swung wide opened upon a huge chamber almost as luxurious as the Duke’s own.

  The room, kept clean and well aired, held another huge bed with quilts and furs, but the hangings around it were green. Similar tables and chairs occupied the floor, and a big wardrobe stood near the bed. The hearth had no fire, but stacks of wood sat piled nearby. Setting my sack on the table, I turned as the butler spoke.

  “I will see to an attendant, my lady.”

  “My thanks.”

  He bowed his way out of the room as I explored. The wardrobe held women’s garments, perhaps the Dowager Duchess’s. I found a privy behind a curtain, and a small window, shuttered, looked down upon the keep when I opened them. A discreet knock at the door heralded a young maid, who curtsied before going to the hearth to light a fire.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Astrid, my lady.”

  “You can call me, Kate, Astrid.”

  She tossed a horrified glance over her shoulder. “Oh, no, my lady, that wouldn’t be proper.”

  Continuing my inspection of the chamber, Astrid soon had a blazing fire on the hearth, then departed to fetch fresh water for me to wash with. Outside, the sun descended in the west. Soon, the Duke would summon me for supper. I unpacked my few belongings, and smoothed out my best gown to wear for him. With Astrid’s aid, I washed, donned the gown and permitted her to brush my hair. When the summons came, my hair hung straight down my back to my hips, and I felt almost reborn.

  John gazed at me over the table, his eyes shadowed, backlit by the blazing fire behind him. “Your beauty stuns me anew, Kate,” he said, his tone warm, deep and alluring. “Perhaps you inherited much from your mother.”

  “Indeed, my lord. My mother was very beautiful.”

  I dined on the succulent lamb from the spit, stewed apples, delicately fried fish, hot bread fresh from the ovens, boiled onions and a sweet red wine. I hadn’t eaten such rich food before, and the Duke’s servants kept my plate full until I couldn’t eat another morsel.

  “You enjoyed the fare?”

  “Very much so, my lord.”

  John rose, and held his hand out to me. “Come. I wish you to be with me this evening.”

  I accepted his hand on mine, warm and strong, and walked with him upon the battlements, listening as he spoke of his lands and estates, his wealth, and his gratitude that King Henry saw fit to restore his titles when he pardoned the younger Norfolk. “I would have remained strongly loyal to King Richard,” he said, “but times have changed and the Dragon rules England now. I was forced to adapt, or be executed.”

  “As did my father.”

  In the darkness with the stars shining brightly above, he turned to me. Taking my other hand in his, John bent his head to mine and kissed me, lingering, on the mouth. I drew back, slightly alarmed, but his hands held me fast. His tongue probed between my lips, and though it felt very strange to me, I liked it. I surrendered my mouth to his invading tongue, feeling a looseness, a heaviness in my stomach.

  Taking me by the hand, John led me from the battlements and down the staircase to his opulent chambers. James the butler bowed low and retreated from the rooms as we entered. Crossing to the table, John poured rich red wine into goblets, and held one of them out to me. I accepted it, bemused, as he lifted his. “To your beauty, Kate.” />
  I sipped from the goblet, feeling its warmth slide down into my belly, igniting that strange sensation inside it as I watched John. His eyes on me, he, too, drank his wine, and I suddenly realized what he wanted from me. Young I was, and naïve, but knew a little of what men and women did behind closed doors. I knew it involved no clothing and was something the church frowned upon. At least between unmarried people.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  I knew a command when I heard it. Fear struck me, and I wondered if I should run. Would he chase me down and drag me back? If I said no, would he force the issue? Part of me wanted to run, and the wilder part of me wanted to obey him. My father always said I had an adventurous streak in spite of my demure, ladylike behavior. I wanted to know what men and women did behind closed doors.

  Untying the laces to my gown, I loosened it until it slid into a puddle at my feet. Stepping out of it, my eyes on John, I kicked off my shoes, and bent to pull my stockings off. Clad in only a light linen shift, I waited as John walked toward me, an odd smile on his face. His finger running lightly down my throat to my collarbone sent a delicious thrill through me. The heaviness in my stomach became an ache as his finger drifted further down and trailed over my breasts.

  In a harsh motion, John seized my shift and ripped it from me, baring me to his inspection. Instinctively, I covered my breasts with my arms, but he pulled them down. His strong hands roamed freely over my nude body, dipping lightly between my legs. I gasped at the personal invasion, seeing his strange grin widen.

  “You are a virgin,” he murmured.

  Mute, I could only nod. I’d been told over and over to remain pure, a virgin, for that was my gift to my husband. While I doubted John planned to marry me, it seemed he planned to seize my innocence for himself. His finger pushed further into me, and this time my gasp was of pleasure. He moved it around, the ache inside me now centering on that very place where his finger was. I shut my eyes to better feel what he was doing to me.

  Abruptly, he withdrew his hand from me, and I almost begged for him to put it back. I opened my eyes to find him stripping himself of his clothes. Though the room was lit only by the hearth fire, we stood close enough to it I saw him clearly. His chest had a pelt of dense hair covering it that trailed down to his flat belly. His organ, long and thick, stuck out from another thatch of curly black hair. I shivered when I saw it, not quite sure what he planned to do with it.

  “You like what you see?” he asked, his tone guttural.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “My cock.”

  Pacing toward me, his cock bobbing as he walked, he seized me by the arms and pushed me down onto the thick fur before the hearth. On my back, I gazed up as John knelt beside me. His hands roamed freely over me again, making my breath come faster, his hand rubbing between my legs once more. The ache there deepened as pleasure rose, and I felt a pressure begin to build from deep within me.

  “Spread your knees,” he ordered, kneeling over me. “Wide.”

  Obeying him, I opened myself up to him, feeling moisture trickle from my woman’s place. He lay his weight on me, his knees splitting mine wide apart. Taking my hands, he forced them up and over my head, pinning me firmly to the fur. I felt something hard nudge my entrance, and for a moment fear took hold of me. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Taking you,” he growled, his mouth on my throat. “I will be as gentle as I can, but you have driven me insane with lust. Your beauty has me in thrall.”

  He nudged his cock in deeper, pain mixing with the acute pleasure his fingers created. I gasped as he pushed harder, his mouth sucking on my throat, his hips hunching forward as he worked his cock in deeper.

  “No, stop, please, it hurts.”

  “It only hurts for a short while,” he said, his lips on mine. “Then the pleasure starts.”

  Searing pain ripped through me as he shoved his organ in harder, almost savagely, piercing me through. I cried out against his mouth, helpless under his strength, burning, burning agony tearing me open.

  “There,” he murmured. “You are now mine.”

  Letting me rest a moment, getting used to his huge thing inside me, John then began to stroke in and out. At first, my woman’s place hurt terribly, and I thrashed under him, begging him to stop. After long moments in which he kissed me, his tongue in my mouth, I felt a new pleasure start. A deep ache, not a painful ache, but one that grew and climbed from the center of my loins. I gasped against his mouth, craving more of what he was doing, needed him deeper inside me, wanting more of him.

  Faster his body lunged into mine, his groans escaping, his kisses bruising my lips, my throat. I lifted my legs over his, drawing him in, feeling the incredible sensations wash over me. My breasts crushed hard against his chest, my hands pinned to the fur, I lay helpless as my pleasure mounted, climbing higher. The dull ache became a sharp throb as his cock plundered my tunnel, his body dominating mine, his gasps changing to moans.

  My climax shuddered through me, my inner walls convulsing, heaving. I threw my head back, arching into him, crying out as the ecstasy poured through me like melted gold, hot and liquid. John’s lunges grew more frantic, driving in and out of me harder, faster. I suddenly felt his body tremble on mine, his face tilted back as he let out a long moan. His thrusts grew slower, deeper, the tendons in his neck sticking out as his entire body became stiff.

  At long last, he relaxed, resting on me, his hands releasing mine. He rolled off me, his cock pulling from me with a wet plopping sound. Lying next to me, John gazed into my eyes, his hand stroking over my breasts. “Tonight, you will share my bed, Kate,” he murmured.

  While I felt I could sleep right there, enfolded into his arms, I let him take me by the hand and bring me up with him. In the great bed, under the warm furs and quilts, I snuggled against him as he wrappedhis strong body around me. I slept.

  If I had put a spell on John with my beauty, he certainly created in me a devil. A witch who craved his body and the insane pleasure it brought. When I woke the next morning, drowsy and warm, I saw him bathed in the sunlight, still naked. He sat in a chair near the bed, watching me sleep. He smiled when my eyes opened.

  “Good morrow, Kate,” he murmured, rising from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed and kiss me. “My little vixen.”

  I stretched my arms over my head, yawning, John’s hand caressing my breasts. Though only having just woken, the sight of his half-hard cock lying against his brought back that throbbing ache between my legs. Tentative, I reached out my hand to stroke it. His skin there was incredibly soft, purple veins running its length, the small helmet-like head with its tiny hole. I suspected that’s where the babies came from.

  “I want you again, Kate,” John whispered. “But this time, I want to tie you.”

  “Tie me?”

  “Yes.” His grey eyes warmed me, his hand on my breasts bringing that thrill to my lower body. “But only with your permission.”

  I sat up, my hair covering me like a shroud. “Why would you want to tie me up? Am I not willing to have you take me?”

  He kissed me, his tongue licking between my lips. “It can heighten the pleasure. I like to dominate, be the aggressor, see my submissive helpless, open to me. For you, being helpless can bring you more pleasure. Did you not like the way I held your arms over your head?”

  I nodded, grinning. “I liked it very much.”

  “Then do I have your blessing to tie you, Kate? I promise, you will not be hurt.”

  “You have it, John.”

  Rising, he crossed the room toward a table and withdrew from a drawer a length of rope. He flung back the furs covering me, and urged me to lie on my back. He tied each of my limbs to the bedposts, my legs spread wide, open to his invasion. As he worked, I noticed his organ filled and swelled, growing hard like it was last night. It bobbed up and down as he moved, and my own tunnel grew wet with anticipation. Not understanding why, but the feeling of helplessness did indeed add to my a
rousal. The throbbing intensified, and I wanted him to push his cock into me again.

  Yet, for a long while he sat beside me, stroking my body, dipping his finger into my wetness. “I want you ready for me,” he murmured, bending to kiss me. As he rubbed his finger over my mound, teasing me, I tried to thrash, to escape the incredible sensations his finger roused from me. But being tied, helpless, I couldn’t, and thus my ecstasy rose higher and higher until I thought I’d go mad with it.

  “Take me,” I begged, unable to believe how just last night I begged him to stop. Now I craved him on me, his weight pinning me under him, taking me hard, brutally.

  John knelt between my knees, his hands to either side of my shoulders. “Remember, I will not harm you.”

  Lowering his body to mine, he mounted me with a single sharp thrust. There was no pain this time, as my body had become accustomed to his invasion. He still stretched me wide, plundering me, his hips pumping hard, his organ once again raising in me a sharp pleasure. I shut my eyes to better feel him gliding in and out of me, his weight pressing me down, dominating me. Moaning, I tried to capture his mouth with mine, wanting his kisses, his tongue plundering my mouth as his cock plundered my tunnel.

  John kissed me hard, his tongue toying, tangled with mine. He pushed his arms under my shoulders, wrapping me tighter to him, my breasts crushed against his furry chest. His mouth left mine to plant savage kisses to my neck and throat, my body growing hotter, throbbing under his attentions. His organ reamed me, split me in two while I rose on the passion, hungering for more of him, craving all of him in me.

  John straightened, lifting his shoulders up off of me and resting his fists against the mattress, his cock plunging in and out. He watched it as though in fascination, his eyes on the sight of his erection pulling out before thrusting back in. He slowed his pace to better build up the pleasure for us both, sweat dripping from his brow onto my prone body. His fingers rubbed against my nubbin, raising the pleasure higher, his grey eyes on my face as I moaned.

  My release came slower, growing little by little, the deep throbbing ache in my loins building like thunderheads on the horizon. My inability to move as John plowed my woman’s place brought with it the powers of sheer ecstasy, climbing, shooting tiny lights behind my eyes. Just as I thought my pleasure would strike, John stopped, pulling out of me.