1. Reclaiming Clarissa


    Date: 8/17/2015, Categories: Fiction, Domination/submission, Male / Females, Reluctance, Romance, Author: abroadsword, Rating: 81.3, Source: sexstories.com

    when fourth class is unavailable. So she travelled on the bare wooden seats in a carriage or truck open to all winds while I rode in some style in first class. We fought our way across the sewer they call London and arrived at civilisation in the form of the Great Western railway which sped us on to Bristol and on to Devon. Cook was delighted to see us when the carters cart deposited us at the house shortly before supper. “Oh Madam I am so pleased you’re back!” she said delightedly. “It is Clarissa, cook, she is to be employed as my mistress, not mistress of the house,” I explained. “Oh Mistress,” Cook gasped. I gave up. Stupidity is incurable. “Move her things into my room, put the child in the nursery with Aurora,” I ordered, “My daughter with Cook,” I explained, “They can be brother and sister.” Clarissa looked unsure but Cook swiftly seduced the child from his mother with a chocolate pudding and Ginger Ale. We ate a hearty supper. I read for a while and as the clock struck ten I announced it was bed time. Clarissa looked ready to demur but she held her tongue. She followed me to the bed chamber. She waited while I lit the oil light. She watched as I bolted the door. Her eyes followed me as I hung my jacket and carefully folded my trousers and shirt. She watched as I slipped my nightshirt on and slipped my undergarments down. “It is time,” I announced as I threw back the bedclothes. She sat on the bed edge, nervously, decorously. She waited for my kiss. “Legs apart,” I ...
    said coldly, “Lift your smock." She was bare beneath it, no pantaloons. No corsets. She was thin from lack of food, her ribs were plainly seen. I felt nothing. “Just on the edge there, that’s right,” I judged and I knelt before her as I had so often done with Cook. I eased the purple tip of my member within the soft pink folds leading to her womb. I felt moistness. I pressed. She protested as always but this time I was deaf to her cries. “Ugh, Ugh, Ugh,” I grunted gaining an inch each time, “Ugh Uuurrrggghhhhh,” and I was fully sheathed and she screamed wordlessly in unbearable agony. “Oh god!” she wailed, “Your monster.s in me, Charles, the monster is inside me!” she wailed in disbelief. “So?” I queried. “Charles,” she said. “Ohhhhhhh.” “See, it fits!” I snapped icily. “Charles, be careful, you are breaking me in half,” she complained. “All right turn over,” I ordered. “Oh no Charles, for pities sake not up there!” she protested, but I withdrew my glistening shaft. “Turn over, bend over the bed. Now!” I ordered. She did as I said. Tearfully. Fearfully indeed, but she bent over the bed as bidden and I rammed my meat forcibly within her woman’s parts again. “Oh!” she gasped as she realised it was her womb I had speared not her backside, “Ohhhhh.” “Hold still while I loosen you some more,” I demanded as I thrust mightily both straight up and up and sideways. Always easing her passage, moulding it into something more amenable. She cried out. I cursed her. “Bury your head in the ...
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