Wild Passion

Randy's mouth fell on Charlotte's lips with a savage fury that surprised even him. As a rule Randy prided himself on his gentle lovemaking, usually teasing his lovers until they begged for him, but this was not lovemaking. This was something fierce and angry and love had nothing to do with it. His mouth punished Lady Marlton's soft lips, forcing them open as his tongue slid itself into her mouth to plunder the sweetness of her breath, just as his member was **** into her pulsing heat. Beneath him he could feel her struggling but the arching of her back and the rocking of her hips only caused his manhood to sink deeper and inflamed his smoldering passion. At first it took nearly all his strength to hold down this wildcat, one arm pinning her wrists above her head while his other hand held her jaw firmly in place as he kissed her again and again. In time though, he felt her surrendering to his superior strength and mass and gradually her struggles eased, but not her wicked words.

“That's right you beast!” Miss Marlton gasped into his ear as he rode her. “Fuck me with that magnificent cock!” Randy lifted his torso from her soft breasts pausing long enough to silently question her.

Lady Charlotte gazed up at him with a prideful fierceness that he had come to expect from her as he rocked in and out of her tight pussy hoping to evoke some kind of reaction from her. Other than a slight wince she refused to acknowledge that her precious maidenhead had been taken by him. Randy pulled her free leg up against his hip spreading her obscenely open as he pushed as hard as he could into her. God, she was tight! None of the lonely widows or dockside whores had gripped his cock like Miss Marlton's sheath. He rammed forward again and he could hear the chain around her ankle rattle as it strained against the bed frame. He was vaguely conscious of the pain that the iron ring digging into the calf of the leg chained to the bed might be causing, but he didn’t care. What mattered to him was the feeling of Miss Charlotte’s sleek thighs wrapped around his and the muttered urgings of this surprisingly passionate young woman.

Charlotte could not believe how good it felt to be impaled by Mr.Fuller. His penis filled her completely, stretching her far more than she could even imagine possible. The pain of the joining had been less than she had been led to believe from reading the erotic novels in her collection, and the pleasure that radiated from her core with each raw movement far more intense. Why had none of her married friends confided in her how good the act of coupling with a man felt? Their muted descriptions made the act sound dull and messy, a duty to be fulfilled not something that she'd crave again and again.

Could it be that their husbands lacked Mr. Fuller's skill or was it his remarkable size that was bringing her such incredible sensations? Perhaps, it was the fact that she was chained to his bed like a captured princess? The heavy iron ring around her ankle and the clinking of the chain reminded her of her translation of Homer's Iliad that detailed the fates of the innocent Trojan maidens captured in the fall of their great city.

“Fuck me!” Charlotte hissed, “Take me like Achilles ravished Briseis.” She understood too well that there could be no love between Mr. Fuller and her, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered but how good it felt; even if it was nothing more than an act of hatred and need for vengeance on his part it was still an experience she would remember for the rest of her life.

Charlotte should hate this outlaw; despised his brutal treatment and the callous disregard of the rules of civilized peoples. Most of all Charlotte should hate the way the outlaw had played with her emotions. First seducing her with his deep kisses and skillful caresses until her had her completely naked and offering herself to him like a blushing bride on her wedding night. But just when she expected the worst, he had rejected her! Told her to dress herself as he looked away with disinterest, even leaving her for hours as he took his demands to Marlton Manner. Charlotte had been stunned by his lack of interest, but finally Mr. Fuller returned to where he had left her chained her to his bed and taken her in a way that no man would ever be able to replicate.

“Are you satisfied now?” Charlotte whispered up at him when he paused briefly with his cock fully embedded within her, to look down at her vanquished body. “Now that you've taken the maidenhead of your hated enemy's daughter.”

“There is nothing that I can do that will ever fully balance the scales,” Mr. Fuller told her between clenched teeth as he withdrew the throbbing head of his cock to the entrance of her vagina and then slowly pushed into her making her moan in delight. “But this is at least a start.” He pushed into her again ramming his cock even deeper and much harder this time making her moan at the sudden intrusion.

“This is so good.” Mr. Fuller grunted harshly as he steadily picked up his pace, building the intensity of this final phase. Charlotte could see the hardness in his eyes as he pushed into her with growing urgency; he was angry at her and her family and determined to make her pay. However, she could feel her body's response to his mastery; she clenched her jaws determined not to lose this final shred of dignity.

In this one small way Charlotte resolved to maintain her independence. Mr. Fuller’s strength had overpowered her feminine body, and for reasons that she still did not understand, she had begged for him to fuck her - to have his manhood rend her maidenhead. However, with each of his strokes a new sensation was growing in her core. Her body was responding once again to his virile maleness, the fire that had been smoldering deep within her had been rekindled and each deep thrust fed the flame. It was like the sensation she felt when she gently stroked herself but so much more. It was just as well that her arms were bound, for her traitorous limbs wanted nothing more than to wrap around this man and pull him into her. Charlotte could feel her pelvis beginning to shift to meet him each time he rocked forward she fiercely reclaimed control of her body.

Charlotte had been determined not to give this highwayman the satisfaction of her final surrender, but as she squirmed under the outlaw’s **** she wondered if she’d be able to resist for much longer. In her romances the women always submitted in the end to the men who claimed them.