Rough Erotica

by Lexi Lovelost

  “What –”

  Panting, he still knelt between my spread thighs, his erect cock glistening and dripping from my juices.

  “God, no,” I half cried, “put it back.”

  Instead of obeying me, John untied my legs with two swift motions of his hands. Then he gripped my hips and flipped me over onto my belly. My hands still tied to the bed posts, flopped over one another. He pushed on the back of my thighs forward until my knees struck my breasts. Then with his hands resting on the bed to either side of my shoulders, he thrust his shaft back in. Mounted like a stallion on his mare, he plowed in and out of me, bringing my exquisite pleasure to new heights. I moaned as he sawed in and out, not even the awkward position halting the waves of ecstasy that rolled over and through me. Higher my climax built, my woman’s tunnel growing both sore and absolutely wonderful. His teeth bit gently into my shoulder, and instantly my explosion rocked me.

  Wave after wave of sheer passion rolled me under it, casting me about on a crest of pleasure, my tunnel clamping down on his cock, quivering, shuddering under the power of it. I moaned against the mattress, my hips rocked by the incredible sensations that poured through me.

  John’s culmination took longer, his low moans in my ear, his breath hot on my shoulders. His organ still plowed in and out of me, bringing me hot pleasure, his arms around my waist holding me steady as he reamed my woman’s place. His hand slid lower, toward my hips, then his finger toyed once more with my nubbin. My breath caught on a sharp gasp of pleasure/pain that shot through me like an arrow.

  Moaning, I almost begged him to stop, I couldn’t handle the building pressure any longer, the vast tides of ecstasy that roared through me. As though in answer, his thrusts slowed. John cried out, his chest against my back, as his hips lunged forward, burying himself to the hilt in me. Over and over he plunged until at last he relaxed, only his arms holding him up and preventing his body falling atop mine and crushing me beneath it.

  Before he dismounted, he untied the ropes binding my hands. Taking me with him, he lay on his side, his now flaccid cock still inside me as we both breathed in ragged breaths, his arm around my waist holding me tightly to him. My breathing gradually slowed as did his, and I suspected he’d fallen asleep. Exhausted, imitating him, I fell into a light doze.

  In the Duke’s household, breakfast was served whenever he was ready. It wasn’t until mid-morning before we, arm in arm, descended the stairs to the dining hall. There, prearranged by James, a hot breakfast awaited us. My lower body now quite sore from all of John’s attentions, I sat at the chair he held for me, and smiled at him as James filled my plate with hot bread, smoking sausage, bacon, eggs seasoned with onions and peppers. Famished, I hardly remembered my manners to not eat until John did.

  “Have you no wife, my lord?” I asked him, finally bold enough to learn more about this fascinating Duke.

  He shook his head. “She died trying to bear my son,” he said. “They both perished. I have not searched for another to replace her.”

  I smiled secretly to myself. John correctly read my mind, and wagged his fork at me. “Now, Kate, girl, I certainly like your company, and your bloodline is not too far beneath me. I may still marry you off to one of my sworn knights, however.”

  “Will he have ropes, my lord?” I asked, my eyes wide and innocent.

  John broke into laughter. “Saucy girl. Whomever marries you will now have to contend with a very greedy appetite.”

  “Surely you do not mean for food, my lord.”

  “No, Kate, I do not.”

  I patted my flat stomach. “I can bear you many sons, John. Daughters to drive you mad in trying to find good husbands for them.”

  He eyed me sidelong, munching his bacon, his expression thoughtful. “You would be a good match for me, Kate. Young, already enjoying the wonders of the bedchamber. My wife could not bear to have me tie her up.”

  John winced at the memory. “It was always her on the bottom, me on top, dreadfully boring, really. I craved to explore, but she quoted church doctrine at me until I thought she’d drive me mad.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He nodded, his eyes on his plate. “Indeed I did, Kate. I would do anything that pleased her, including reining in my impulses.”

  “You can always love again.”

  His gaze rose and fell upon mine. “Can I? Sometimes, I am not so certain.”

  I leaned forward. “You are a good man, John. You are not to blame for their deaths.”

  John looked long at me, his breakfast forgotten. “You see much, don’t you, Kate? And here, you only arrived yesterday and still you see right into my heart.”

  After breakfast, John claimed to have business to attend to, and left me free to roam about the castle. By then, word of my arrival had spread, and the men-at-arms, servants, the blacksmith and a few knights all bowed to me as though I were John’s wedded lady. I hoped and prayed as I wandered that John would see what a good wife I could be to him.

  Finding the castle’s chapel, I went inside. The monk I’d met and a priest offered up prayers to the wooden cross behind the altar as I dropped to my knees on a cushion. After begging for forgiveness for fornicating out of wedlock, I prayed to the Lord Christ that John find in me a worthy bride. I prayed for my father’s soul, and that of my mother.

  The priest and the monk eventually found me behind them, but they left me alone with my prayers through that afternoon. As the sun westered in the sky hours later, John sent a servant to find me, and bring me to supper. Oddly silent, he ignored my casual talk and questions until at last I fell quiet, eating my food without much appetite. I hoped nothing was wrong, but if his tense expression was anything to go by, something was.

  I retired to my own chambers after supper, John bowing to me as I walked up the stairs behind a servant with a lit taper. Astrid helped me to undress and wash, then pulled the covers over me as I slid naked between the linens. With the hearth fire lit and burning, I listened as she exited through the door, watching the flames dance on the hearth. I didn’t feel tired exactly, but my body felt worn out.

  At last I fell asleep, and dreamed of John.

  He wasn’t there at breakfast, and James told me he’d ridden out before dawn. Thus I dined alone, and wandered about the castle as before. I gazed at the knights in speculation, wondering if John might select my husband from among them. I knew he had other knights on their own manors, and I prayed he’d marry me to one with property. As I wandered, I daydreamed of a handsome knight clad in armor upon a white steed who would wrap me in his arms. He would love me every night and bring me to climax, the very pinnacle of pleasure.

  Realizing what my mind constantly thought of – lust, I felt shame. I would confess my lustful thoughts to the castle’s priest. But if this was sinful, why did it feel so good? The priests say lust is the product of the devil, and claim what goes on between a man and wife should not bring pleasure. They called it a deadly sin. Perhaps I was naïve, but it seemed to me, and obviously to John, that this wasn’t truly sinful. God created us in his likeness – so how could what God had created be a sin?

  John was at table when I arrived in the hall for supper. His previous tension seemed gone, and he smiled as James held my chair for me. “My dear Kate. You look ravishing this evening.”

  I dipped my chin, smiling. “And you, my lord John. Are you well?”

  “Indeed, yes.”

  As we ate the delicious supper, he spoke of the affairs of his estate, almost as though I were his married lady. Excitement rose in me – perhaps he reconsidered marrying me to one of his knights. He’d already taken my virginity, and taught me to love making love. At eighteen, I could bear him sons and daughters, heirs to his name and estates. If only he would see it that way. If he did marry me, I planned to make him the happiest lord in England.

  After the meal, he once more took me by the hand to his chambers. Excitement filled my lower belly as he undressed me under the light of their hearth fire, h
is mouth lingering over mine. Naked, my hair cascading down my back, I helped him out of his clothes. My hand strayed to his erect organ, massaging it, feeling it’s velvety softness, yet finding it as hard as iron.

  “Suck it,” John demanded in a hoarse whisper.

  His hands on my shoulders put me on my knees, and guided my face toward his cock. While this didn’t seem natural, I trusted John. Opening my mouth, I took him in, licking and sucking the helmet-like head, tasting something salty and yet earthy. Above me, his moans grew heated as I played with his meat, my hands on it stroking, rubbing. I sucked more of him into my mouth, my arousal lighting a fire in my loins. Moisture trickled down my thighs as my need for him grew, consuming me.

  Lifting me up, John led me to a table. His hand on my shoulders pushed me front-down against its top, and his feet nudged my ankles apart. My woman’s parts grew even more wet as his put his fingers in there, rubbing my nubbin, stroking in and out. His hand caressed my shoulders and back, down over my rump, sending delicious shivers of delight through me. I cried out as my lower body heated under his ministrations, that now familiar ache spread from my mound to my hips and my lower belly. My tunnel burned with need, my desire building, my lust increasing and right then I did not care if what I felt was a sin.

  John’s cock replaced his fingers, his hips sheathing it deep into me in a single thrust. I moaned as his size spread me fully, stretching my inner walls to their capacity. I grabbed hold of the table’s edges to steady myself as he stroked his organ slowly in and out. The pressure deep within me built and grew, the near pain making me crazy with lust, with desire. Still, he maintained a slow even pace with his thrusts, gliding on my juices, his body bringing mine to a boil.

  He slid out of me slowly, then slammed his meat back in, hard. His firm hands on my hips prevented me from hitting the table’s edge while his own drew back to lunge forward again. He struck a new rhythm, gliding out slowly, to strike my inner walls with a ferocity that sent my pleasure to a new height. His knees behind mine spread my legs even further apart, maximizing the intensity of the sensations coursing through me.

  Wrapping his strong arm around my hips to hold me in place, his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back. His mouth crushed against my throat while his cock plowed my hole, faster, driving harder, quicker. The pressure in my lower body increased, the fires of ecstasy burning, climbing to greater heights. John moaned against my neck, his breath hot against my skin. I knew his own explosion was imminent, for his thrusts slowed while pushing in as deep as he could. Mine erupted like the sun bursting through dense clouds, my inner walls convulsing, quivering, turning my lower body into pudding.

  Crying out, I trembled under the sheer force of the intense pleasure, John’s cock drove in deep, hard, his mouth on my throat bruising my flesh. His long shuddering moan told me his climax flared, his thrusts growing less hard, his body relaxing against my back. His fingers in my hair loosened, and I dropped my brow to the table, breathing in ragged gasps. While he, too, caught his breath, his fingers caressed my cheek, and his lips teased the corner of my mouth.

  “I cannot get enough of you,” he murmured. “It is almost as though you were meant for me.”

  I turned my head, still pinned to the table by his weight, and not minding at all, and gazed into his eyes so close to mine. I pressed a kiss to his lips, nibbling, probing his mouth with my tongue. His deflated cock fell from me as he straightened, his hands on my shoulders bringing me up with him. My legs wobbled, forcing me to clutch him for support. Our mingled juices slid down my thighs as John embraced me, holding me close to him. He caressed my body as he kissed me slowly, lovingly.

  Taking me by the hand, he led me to his great bed, and flung back the furs and linens. Lying down beside me, his face close to mine, he covered us both. “I want you, Kate,” he murmured. “I cannot see you become another man’s wife.”

  Hope shot through me. “Will you make me yours?”

  His finger traced up my arm to my throat and cheeks, his grey eyes warm. “It would seem I have little choice. You may already have caught pregnant with my seed, and I cannot dishonor you further by keeping you as my mistress all the days of your life.”

  “I will make you a very happy man, my lord,” I said, kissing him. “I will bear you strong sons and beautiful daughters.”

  “If they are half as beautiful as you, Kate, then I will be forced to fight off lusty suitors.”

  “I think I am falling in love with you, John,” I murmured. “You make me so very happy.”

  “Good. For you have bewitched me, my vixen, and I am yours. For now and always.”

  Story 33

  Gladstone Town. There was nothing glad about the dark gloomy place, and the rounded stones that cobbled the narrow roads were covered in grime and in need of a rigorous washing. It was a good thing then that the rains had come early that year. It also meant that the outlying farmlands to the west of the town could start planting new crops, so the reserve food grain in the town’s storage could be distributed to the hungry townspeople.

  It had been this way for as long as Megan could remember in the nineteen years of life of hers, worsening year after year. Her poverty stricken parents had fallen to the damned black plague of 1877, when she was just about five. She lived with her father’s useless brother and his starving family of four ever since, adding another sorry mouth to feed for them. They were poor, just as the rest of the townsfolk, but she was grateful for at least that over the prospect of begging out in the ragged streets. She shuddered involuntarily at those horrid old memories as she sat in the ice cold wooden seats of the old town council hall.

  The geriatric mayor, the elderly Pastor Coolidge, had called for a town meeting about the distribution of the food stocks. The decrepit town council hall where the haggard people of Gladstone, all hundred and sixty seven of them, were gathered had seen better days. The fading plaster on the pillars and walls was chipping away and a few large cracks in the high ceiling let the falling rain in. Several of the tall windows had shattered panes; and some had no panes at all and the once shiny curtain rods hung bare and rust-covered over the rattling windows. The cold wind blew into the aged building with a vengeance and chilled everyone to the bone. Mayor Coolidge stood shivering on the worm eaten wooden pedestal and nodded at the gathering.

  “Thank you all for coming on this unfortunate night.” The old man said in a trembling voice. “Gladstone Town now suffers its thirteenth year of poor harvest, and we pray that the rains last longer this year.”

  “Our prayers fall on deaf ears, Coolidge.” A gruff voice from the front challenged the old mayor. “Just like they have for the last twelve and a half years. We need more than just prayers to save this old town.”

  “Thank you for that astute observation, Mister Hoddle.” Coolidge replied with a dry smile. “But right now I can think of nothing more than our honest prayers. Things will get better once we…”

  “And when will than happen, old man?” A fat woman seated next to Hoddle sneered. “Just before we draw out last breath. Unlike you, we still have many years we would like to live. Tell us, Coolidge, when will things get better again? ”

  “I am not privileged to have that information, Mrs. Danker.” Coolidge remained calm. “We can only hope that the Lo…”

  “Hope will not save this cursed town.” A slim man to the left stood up. Megan recognized him as the butcher’s son, Willis. “It’s time we put our much tested faith into other means of salvation. Means that may work.”

  “If you mean that charlatan who offered us…” Coolidge paled as he spoke.

  “Yes, we do.” Huddle said importantly. “And we have invited one of his respected acolytes here to enlighten us.”

  “But I have not been made aware…” Coolidge protested. “I am the mayor…”

  “Not for long, Coolidge.” Huddle went on. “Now step off the pedestal and let Brother Norton of the vaunted Harrow Manor speak.”

  Megan
glanced sideways, noticing the eager looks on the faces of the people, including her uncle, aunt and cousin sister, Sondra. Everyone was expectant; they were desperate for something to save the town and by the look of this newcomer Megan could tell there was a high price to pay for the so-called salvation he offered.

  “Good people of Gladstone Town. I am Brother Norton and I come in peace.” The slender young man with a receding hairline smiled at everyone from the pedestal. “Rejoice, my friends, for the Blessed Order of Lord Aldridge Harrow has come to save you all. We have saved many. The towns to the east of here, and the south, they were just as deprived as Gladstone not too long ago. We have done what was needed to bring peace and prosperity back to those unfortunate towns and now they all reap in the glory of their salvation.”

  “What is it that you do?” Coolidge asked in an aggravated tone.

  “Why, pastor?” The leering young man addressed the sickly old mayor. “You would know rather well what we do. We offer salvation from your past sins, we offer to absolve those of ill repute and set them back on the path of righteousness.”

  “What sins and ill reputation do you think we of Gladstone have?” A deep voice from the back yelled. Megan turned back to look and didn’t really recognize the face of the man yelling.

  “All of you, you fine people of Gladstone.” Norton waved his spindly arms around. “All of you are sinners in need of salvation, and that is why I am here.”