In a London town house in the time of Napoleon Bonaparte

Ravished without consideration.

“He seduced me, against my will,” Miss Fanshawe insisted, after arriving unannounced at my London abode, “After Lord Gresham’s ball for his son’s coming of age.” I barely had time to set down my book between the door bells clanging and the girl bursting into my Library pursued by both her mother and Brabbinger my apologetic butler.

“Geoffrey seduced you?” I queried, “You a fine young woman of quality seduced by my Geoffrey? I find it hard believe, Gadzooks I would never have thought it possible.”

“He pushed me against a wall,” she insisted, “Raised my skirts and fondled me until I relented and then.”

“Eliza please!” the mother insisted.

Miss Fanshawe she was becoming distressed now, “He forced his, his, his thing inside me!” she blurted out

It didn’t seem possible, my Geoffrey, seemingly hard put to say Boo to a goose.

“Very well,” I agreed, In the event that this is so, what do you seek?” I queried.

“Why an offer of Marriage,” she insisted.

“I see little difficulty on that score,” I chuckled, “If he won’t marry you I will!”

She stood, took two paces forward and slapped me hard across my face, “It is no joking matter.” she insisted, sealing in my mind the notion that Geoffrey could not possibly have ravished her for she would have thrown him aside with the greatest of ease.

I grasped her wrist firmly to prevent a recurrance, her perfume assailed me, her warm firm body pressed against mine, the swell of her bosoms against my chest, her hot breath against my cheek.

Unworthy thoughts raced through my mind, my member slowly uncurled from his slumber.

“Unhand me you brute!” she protested.

“Only when you calm yourself,” I countered, “Are you sure Geoffrey ravished you, or was it yourself who ravished he?”

“He ravished me, how many more times must I relay this unhappy tale?” she protested.

“So why has it taken what, nine days to report this?” I queried.

“We knew not where to find you,” the mother said awkwardly. She was a sad downtrodden grey woman in a grey shawl, aged beyond her years sadly.

“So did you undertake research and find poor Geoffrey was the most eligable suitor?” I queried, “Or did you make a list of possible suitors and then steadily worked your way through it one fool at a time.”

“My lord!” the mother protested but I knew I had rumbled them.

“Very well, I shall summon Geoffrey, shall we say tomorrow, two of the clock, shall we meet here?”

I thought of the fragrant Miss Fanshawe that evening when I took my ease with Maisey my upstairs maid, I imagined it was Miss Fanshawe’s lips around my member not Maiseys, that it was Miss Fanshawe’s moans from the intrusion of my fingers and her moans when I twisted her teats.

It troubled me considerably that I desired Miss Fanshawe so much that mistaking the maid for Miss Fanshawe in my mind it was only with conciderable difficulty that managed to refrain from turning her on her back and mounting her rather than have her milk my member into a chamber pot.

Geoffrey was most affronted when he attended on the morrow, “On my honour I never touched her father,” he insisted, “Why would I when I have my own girl?”

“Your own girl?” I enquired.

“Yes, but it is a secret, her father does not know,” he assured me.

“And whom am I to understand feels you are unworthy of his daughter?” I asked.

He told me, I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, “Dear lord you do tread dangerously,” I explained, “The Duke is well versed in seeing off rivals in duels, have you been practicing?”

“No father, we feel he will come round when sweet Amelia is with child,” he assured me.

“Come round, he will come round with a loaded pistol in each hand,” I averred, “Dear god, I would admit to groping Miss Fanshawe and keep well out of it if I were you.”

“Then you may grope her and welcome,” he stated, “A pleasant change from serving maids I would have thought.”

“Then I shall,” I agreed, “I believe that wench needs a tad more than a brief insertion, I believe she would fit very nicely on my member.”

“Good lord father I believe you are smitten,” he suggested, “Are you sure your heart will stand the pace?”

“No idea, at least I might die happy!” I agreed.

Miss Fanshawe and her mother arrived some time after. “Where is the scoundrel?” the mother asked.

“He will join us presently,” I advised, “But first will you take some refreshment, tea perhaps, or a glass of wine.”

I led them to my study, “Please let my man take your coats,” I suggested and when Brabbinger my Butler had taken their coats and hung on the stand by the door I had them sit.

Pleasantries were at a minimum and then it was down to business so to speak.

“Miss Fanshawe, one mystery puzzles me,” I explained, “My son is much the same build as I, no muscle bound monster but only a small degree taller and stronger than yourself, so why did you not fight him off?”

“He caught me unawares and he is as you say stronger and taller than I,” she insisted.

“Yet surely a swift kick in the member region,” I suggested.

“I know nothing of such things,” she explained.

“Really, stand a moment,” I suggested, and when she stood I approached her, “So what if I went to ravish you now?” I enquired as I stood close. Her presence, her perfume had my member swelling in an instant.

“Shoud you refrain from assaulting me lest it rile me and rouse me to even more violent and vile misdeeds?” I enquired.

My arm brushed her breast, I own I felt her teat stiffen. “Well should you?” I repeated.

“No I should kick you hard as you suggest,” she agreed.

“And how should you do that if I held you close?” I asked and I placed my arm around her and pulled her roughly to me.

“It was so with Geoffrey,” she lied, “I could do nothing!”

“You could do nothing except let your lustful nature entrap some poor soul,” I declared, “Why your teats are hardened now, and your parts are moistened like as not, why |I own I myself could claim you with a singke stroke!”

“My lord some decorum!” the mother hissed.

I released Miss Fanshawe briefly, but only so long as to allow me to grasp the front of her gown with both hands and tear it asunder. Tear it to her midriff and beyond.

“No!” the mother cried, but I was not finished for I pushed Miss Fanshawe’s underskirt down and there displayed were her pantaloons.

“I see the rampant whore now clothes her parts where previously they were avalable to all,” I surmised and I thrust my hand down the waist band and followed the smooth line of her slot down to the moistened womb entry.

“You are a whore and worse than a whore you are anybody’s are you not,” I enquired.

“No,” she insisted but two then three fingers were now inside her.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she admitted, “It was not Geoffrey, but a servant, and we did not copulate he merely ruined me as his lordship has done.”

“So you sought to entrap my Geoffrey with your lies when all you really wanted was a man, any man?” I asked. My fourth finger had now joined the other three in her moist passage. My member reared, his tip was moist.

“Yes,” she agreed, “I really am sorry.”

“Well I am glad,” I explained as I loosened my breeches belt one handed and let them fall.

“Dear god daughter he is huge!” the mother gasped. I pushed her pantaloons to her knees and kicked them to her feet and off her feet with my shoe then gently I pushed her against the wall.

“Daugher please!” the mother protested, but we were set upon coitus and naught would stop it.

My knee eased her knees apart, I guided my member with the hand so recently within her and gently he nuzzled her soft womans parts before being engulfed by her softness as I pressed my member inwards.

“Whore,” I whispered and our lips entwined

“See mother I could not resist,” she husked.

“Enough child,” the mother protested.

Ripples of ecstasy shuddered through my whole being, my only though was forcing my member ever deeper into her womb, to posess her utterly and in turn take her to heaven. I felt her hands ripping my shirt open so our chests could commune as our loins did.

“Please stop,” the mother pleaded. It was too much for the poor woman.

“Brabbinger, pray deal with the mother,” I shouted.

|My thrusts became ever more passionate, I nuzzled Miss Fanshawe’s neck, kissed her ear, crushed her chest to mine.

“Very good sir,” Brabbinger acquiesced, and her took the mother’s hand. She stood and in an instant Brabbinger had raised her skirt.

“No!” she protested.

“Take her outside,” I explained.

Brabbinger misunderstood, honestly or dishonestly I know not to this day but he merely said, “I do believe the lady would prefer to be skewered here my lord,” and he loosed his dark grey trews and let them fall.

His purple veined manhood stood proud, its misshapen purple head incongruous as it stood erect and urgent

The mother was bared from midriff to stocking tops, just a mass of dark hair covered her delights but Brabbinger unerringly skewered her and set to work pleasuring her in a manner worthy of the most rampant bunny rabbit.

They fell sideways to land atop the chaise longue with not the slightest faltering of the copulation.

The mother went from protestation to open mouthed kissing in an instant.

My own passions were entrirely roused as were Miss Fanshawe’s she gasped in anticipation and I did not disappoint as my juices abruptly expelled themselves in a furious rush to quench her passions.

“Er father,” a worried voice said behind me, I turned to see Geoffey say “May I present my young lady?”

“Present her, damn it boy you might as well skewer her!” I declared as I stood there with rapidly diminishing manhood.

“Ohh Geoffrey,” the silly minx cooed, “Shall we?”

He kissed her and raised her skirt.

“Dear god we will have the bull in next serving the dairy herd,” I sighed, but a flurry or discarded clothing was followed by the young lady’s gasps of a successful skewering and the commencement of a good pounding.

“So my Lord, when shall we wed?” Miss Fanshawe asked coyly.

“I believe in common law we are already wed, we have publicly shown our love, but I do believe three weeks are needed for banns so shall we say one month hence?”

Miss Fanshawe winked at her mother. I doubt the mother realised for Brabbinger was far from finished his fornicatory mission and she well the far side of any decorum as she squirmed in ecstasy.

“Did you plan this?” I asked.

“Better an old mans darling than a young man’s drudge,” Miss Fanshawe muttered as she dabbed her parts with a kerchief, “But young boys are so childish, I need a man!”

“Put her down Brabbinger,” I ordered as Brabbinger showed no inclination to cease hs pounding.

“One moment my lord,” he requested.

I left him to his pleasure and stepped over Geoffrey and his lady as they cavorted near naked on the floor.

“Can you mend your robe?” I asked Miss Fanshawe.

“Surely you will buy me a complete new trouseau,” she replied.

“I shall tie you to the bed and keep you naked and well served,” I replied.

She stood beside me, “You won’t regret this,” she said earnestly, “I shall be the best wife ever.”

“I doubt it but I own you do fuck delightfully,” I averred, and I added in exasperation, “How much longer?” as my son and my butler contined to pound their beaus on my study floor.

That was when I became aware that the Duke was striding up to my door, pistols in hand with his entourage in train.

To be continued.

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