| Lord Dartmoor surveyed his estate, the broad landscape of green shrubs and forest, horses and stable, the lake in the far distance, before turning his back to the window. His mind was elsewhere today, filled with stark memories. He shook his head, and thought "What am I doing? I'm 6 and 30 years already. I should be married and enjoying the fruits of my labor." And yet all that occupied his mind was those years of dark despair, and his plans for revenge. There was a knock on the door, and his servant entered. "The carriage has left the convent. It will be traveling as expected on Highbury road for the next 3 days. She is accompanied only by a female escort and the driver." Lord Dartmoor nodded, "Have my horse ready in an hour."
Evening approached as he rode through the forests towards Highbury Road. His body was still hard and toned from years of riding and fencing, and he rode swiftly. The steady gallop of the horse and the familiar terrain allowed his mind to wander, as it often did, to 15 years ago. Lord Raith was his friend and mentor then, Claudia his lover...
Her red flaming hair flowed over her naked body, but there was not enough of it to hide her full breasts, which were bouncing up and down with each of his thrusts. Her face was flushed with exertion. She was riding him and it was the third time they had fucked. There were still many hours before dawn. Lord Dartmoor's muscles were tense, his strong hands grasping her hips tightly, his thick rod pumping furiously into her sopping wet vagina. "You .. naughty.. girl. You'll... be the.. death.. of me," he rasped. Claudia's red lips smiled, and then her body tensed, "I'm almost there," as she continued to grind herself against him. Finally, he could feel her cunt spasm around him, her body shook with the orgasm over and over. He continued to pump himself into her until he, too, came. The two lay in bed, satieted, their hearts slowly beating back to normal, and the room was quiet except for the flicker of the fireplace.
When he woke, Claudia was dressed and looking quite innocent. And Lord Dartmoor's hands were tied behind his back. "Claudia, very funny joke. Untie me!" Claudia pouted "Dartmoor, you look delicious right now. I just might have you again" as she approached the bed. "Then take off that gown and have me," he said. Her calculating mind quickly compared Dartmoor with Raith. Raith was almost 10 years his senior, but they looked similar, as if they could be brothers. Both with dark brown hair, chiseled faces, broad shoulders and chests, tapering waists, and long, hard cocks, ready for action. But while Dartmoor loved to slowly bring her to orgasm, over such a long period of time that it drove her crazy with lust, so much so that she was exhausted after every coupling, Raith drove into her mercilessly, making her come quickly and repeatedly. Even when she begged for sleep, he would continue. She smiled with the remembrances. And while Dartmoor was so naive and gullible, Raith was always scheming and alert, greedy for money and power. Which is why she seduced Dartmoor, why she did anything Raith asked of her. Her mind turned back to Dartmoor, bound in ropes. "I'm sorry. You'll have to get used to being bound. Guards, take this man away," she called in a clear voice. She turned her lovely back to him, there was a scuffle, and then only the screams of "Claudia, Claudia!"
Lord Dartmoor gripped his reins harder and dug in his heels as he remembered the betrayal. He had been imprisoned for months while his name was being blackened. He was held suspect for money schemes, murders, plots, with no way to clear his name as he languished in a hidden cell. Raith, who was like an older brother to him... ah, he had been so stupid, so gullible. He had trusted Raith with everything. Raith was behind all of this, trying to set him up so that he could seize his lands and titles. During the months when he was "missing," he never once saw Raith, and in fact it was Claudia, the bitch, who had revealed him.
One of Claudia's favorite pasttimes during those months was to visit him in his cell, as he lay on the stone ground, cold, hungry, and in the dark. On the days of her visits, she would order food, and torches to light and warm his dismal cell. So he was not altogether opposed to her visits. During her visits, she would come, beautiful as a red hot flame, to torture him. She would have him tied on a flat cot, naked on his back, as she stripped away her clothes. She would stand naked in front of him, carressing her nipples and breasts, ignoring his endless inquiries. He would alternately order her to tell him why he was imprisoned, then beg her, then yell at her in a rage. She continued to carress herself and would straddle him, as she moaned softly to herself. Despite himself, he would grow hard, and she would ride him until she was satisfied. Then, as if his presence were disgusting to her, she would dress quickly and leave. Although his physical response to her was the same as always, he heart grew hard and cold. He eventually gave in to yelling coarse words at her, which she would just laugh at. One day, after she had satisfied herself on him, he called her lewd names, threatening her with terrible things, until she grew quite alarmed and angry, "If you don't shut up, I'll have Raith beat you." His eyes grew with wonder, realization ebbing its way across his face and mind, "Raith!" Claudia paled, realizing her mistake immediately. That was the last he ever saw of her.
Justice has a strange way of prevailing, and the Prince, a friend of the Dartmoor family, took it upon himself to order a search for the missing lord. The lord was found, his name was cleared, and his property restored. Raith denied all, and Claudia was nowhere to be found. A year later, Lord Dartmoor stepped back into his home and found the world foreign. Thin and gaunt, cynical and embittered, he grew merciless of heart as he trained himself to be unbiddable, physically and mentally. The years passed as he became smooth and suave on the exterior, cold as ice inside. Many families offered their daughters, and he welcomed them into his bed, but spurned their offers of marriage, politely, but firmly. He would trust no woman again. And so during the days, he tended to his estate, at nights, pumping his frustrations into the silly women who thought they could lure him into marriage, as he waited and waited. Because Raith had once been married, and he had a daughter. She was a child when Dartmoor first met Raith, but Dartmoor did not know of her existence until he sent his spies to find out all they could about Raith. He had not known anything of truth about Raith, he thought grimly. If his spies were correct, she was nothing like her father. She was sweet and forgiving, and most importantly, honest.
His mind turned back to his horse. They were almost there. He could even see the carriage now in the evening twilight. It was a tiny dot on the horizon. He had waited patiently. Soon, she would be his.
Clara fingered the letter from her father again, as the carriage steadily jostled forward. She remembered him as a child, but was soon sent away to the convent for education, marriage preparation, and, she added to herself, because she was a nuisance to everybody. If she had been a son, she would have been allowed to stay. For almost 10 years, she saw none of her family, until one day her father stopped by. He glanced at her face, her figure, her attire, then left quickly. Over the next 3 to 4 years, he came by, bringing a different man with him each time. Most of them had graying hair, some with stooped backs. She was positive one of them was even older than Old Higgins, the retired caretaker. The last man he had brought had looked scarcely at her face, mostly at her body, and gleamed a horrible smile. A week later, her father had informed her through the letter that she was engaged to Lord Ogert. Ogert, who was 7 years younger than her father but already had two wives. From the tittering in the bathrooms, she had learned that both his wives had died after only a few years. Rumor was that he was cruel. She looked bleakly out the window and tried to convince herself that her father would be kind to her. Yet now at age 22, the carriage that brought her closer to Lord Ogert with each minute felt like a black hearse to her inevitable death.
Dartmoor had finally caught up with the carriage. Revenge was in his grasp. Raith, he knew, was depending on the large sum of money Ogert had promised him for his daughter. She could have been married years ago, but Raith was waiting for the best offer. Ogert, terrible and cruel, had inherited a great deal of property and money from his two wives. He had money to spare, and he wanted a young naive wife he could bend to his will. Dartmoor thought of Ogert's fury, and Raith's fury. Raith's money schemes were lately very unsuccessful, as unknowingly Dartmoor had set him up several times, and without the large sum from Ogert, he was on the brink of bankruptcy.
Clara was pondering her father's terse letter once more, when she was aware of a rider on the road. The carriage halted to a stop. Her escort was about to open the door to see what the matter was, when the door was opened for her and she was grabbed. A man, clothed and masked in black was at the door, "Stay inside and don't move, if you want to live!" and he slammed the door. Clara shivered. There was no one else on the road and she was defenseless. A few minutes passed, and the door flew open again. The terrible man in black grabbed her hands and before she could resist, he was tying them. "Are... will you kill me?" she found the voice to say. He did not respond, but gagged her and slammed the door again. She heard a struggle outside, and heard her female escort whimpering, and a male grunting. There was a pause for a few minutes, then more grunting. A slap, and then another slap. She was then pulled out of the carriage and saw that the other two members of her party were bound, gagged, and blindfolded, but still living. She was dragged towards a horse. "Are you going to leave them there like that? They'll freeze to death? Please, sir, have pity on them." At the word, "pity," the stranger's mouth snarled as he blindfolded her. She was hoisted onto the horse and they sped away.
A few hours later, she was pulled like a sack of flour down from the horse. Her limbs were frozen with cold, making it necessary for her captor to hoist her over his shoulder. Finally, the entered a warm room with a blazing fire, and Clara was thrown onto a bed and untied. "Sleep," he said, and left the room. Clara took off her gag and blindfold, and stood up to open the door. It was locked. She looked around at the spacious and well-furnished room, before collapsing on the bed in exhaustion and misery. Who is he? and what does he want? filled her mind endlessly and she tried to sleep. She awoke to the smells of warm food and sunlight shining in her eyes. Her captor was sitting in a chair, unmasked but still in black, a tray of food next to him. She looked at him, and saw that he was handsome, but the pangs of hunger were more pressing, and she looked towards the food. "You may eat, but you must eat naked." Her appetite was immediately quenched. "No thanks, then," she pulled her eyes from the food. "What do you want with me? Why am I here?" He left the room, bringing the tray with him. A maid came in and helped her bathe.
Night came, and she was still hungry. She had not had anything to eat since noon yesterday. He came in the room again, bringing another tray of food. "Who are you? What do you want?" she bit out with frustration. "You may eat now, or after I take you," he said placidly. At this, she turned to flee him, but he grasped her and flung her onto the bed. Ignoring her cries, he ripped off her nightgown, then suddenly paused. She's beautiful, he thought, unblemished and untouched, and he felt his desire grow as he proceeded to take his clothes off. "No!" she screamed as she tried to squirm away. He pinned her down. "You have a choice, either cooperate, or I tie you down." She gave one more attempt at freedom before he flung himself on top of her to still her. Taking rope hidden under the mattress, he tied her wrists and ankles to the bed posts. He then cut off her panties. She was now naked and utterly helpless. She turned her head to the side and refused to cry. She had no choice but to endure this. She would think of something else, of her friends at the convent, of green fields and white clouds, of... her captor had finished taking his clothes off, revealing an erect and stiff penis. Her eyes widened with horror and panic. His strong and large hands came up to grasp her breasts and he kneaded them like dough until they were sore before turning his attention to her nipples. They sprang to attention as he flicked his fingers across them and then licked them with abandon. Clara felt a strange sensation between her legs as he stroked and licked her nipples. She squirmed but it was of no use. She felt his hand between her legs and tried again to plead with him, "Please, don't do this to me." She looked around the room and knew that money would be no lure to him. "Please, anything but this." But her captor was determined, and she felt his fingers enter a place she had never touched. She instantly became rigid. He chuckled, "You're wet, like a common whore. It looks like you want me, after all." He stroked her clitoris, and again she tried to squirm away. He kept on rubbing and rubbing, his strokes intensifying. Her face grew flushed and she felt overheated. Despite her pleas, he kept on stroking her clitoris. "You slut, you want this, you're sopping wet." She began to moan at his manipulations, his unceasing and merciless stroking. "Keep on moaning," he taunted,"show me how much you want this." He continued to furiously rub her sensitive clitoris until it felt sore, but Clara felt that something was about to happen. Her body tensed and tensed and she heard herself moaning until finally, her body shook violently with spasms. He continued to rub her as she cried out with lust and desire, her face flushed, her hips bucking. She slowly returned to normal, her heart thudding, a sheen of perspiration over her skin. She looked at her captor with a mix of surprise and disgust, trying to understand what had just happened. She was disgusted with herself, because somehow her body had managed to respond to him, and her body had reacted in pleasure.
"My turn," he said and grapsed her hips, "I'm even harder and longer than I've ever been, after watching such a succulent virgin have her first orgasm. But you won't be a virgin for much longer, " and he pressed the tip of his penis against her wet and warm entrance. As an answer to her final plea for mercy, he drove his thick rod into her. "Your cunt is so tight and wet. What a great fuck you are." He drew himself out, and thrust himself into her again. Lord Dartmoor's revenge was complete. Ogert would never have her now, and Raith would be driven to bankruptcy. And the female escort turned out to be his once-loved Claudia. He had enjoyed himself in her cunt, and then in her mouth. And he was pleasuring himself in the delectable body of Raith's only progeny. He would marry Clara the next day, to avoid charges of kidnapping and rape. She would pleasure him during the days and nights, and when she was pregnant with his children, her mouth would also be trained to pleasure him. After all, he had saved her from Ogert.
He untied the ropes in order to toss her over onto her stomach. She had stopped resisting. He entered her again from behind, the walls of her vagina tight around his penis, which was hard as a rock. "Get on your hands and knees," and she obeyed. Her breasts swung as he pumped into her from behind, with such force that she occasionally gasped. His hands roamed over her breasts and flicked her nipples, and she moaned softly. His thick cock continued to thrust into her as he grunted with lust. The lips of her vagina were spread wide to accomodate his large penis. As he drove into her, his hand reached down to stroke her clitoris. Her moans continued as he stroked it more vigorously. With desperation, her hips bucked for more. Finally, she cried out once again as his semen spewed out into her orifice again and again. They were consummated. It was over. She was his.
"You are so beautiful, and have pleasured me very well. You will marry me tomorrow. You may hate me, but if you were with Ogert, you would have been dead in 3 years." He dressed himself, watching her mind soak in the information. He felt himself go hard again as his eyes lingered over her breasts and sopping cunt before she crawled under the covers, but he resisted the urge. She needed her rest. "Have your dinner. It is well deserved." He ignored the looks of hate boring into him as he left the room, but he remembered how she wantonly bucked her hips against him, wanting more. He smiled. It would not be too long before she would be crying out his name with desire, her legs wrapped around his hard body.