Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

Sweet Peeper

Anonymous

All Rights Reserved

 

(M/f, Whipping)

 

 

Owen watched the girl turn down the covers and set the candles in place on his bed stand. She was so careful and exacting, he wondered if there was some set way things where done. He had never really noticed. He had also not noticed when that scrawny little girl with pigtails had become this fetching young lady with a gorgeous figure. He smiled and played with his snifter of brandy as he watched her bend and straighten the quilt.

Her ass was not tiny, it was full and firm like only a young girl's ass could be. Even the layers of petticoats and bloomers could not hide its curves. He smiled and tilted his head slightly to view it at a different angle. Yes, that was a good ass.

She noticed his stare and blushed but did not shy away from it. Owen raised an eyebrow in question and the girl blushed bright red and went back to her duties. The night, until now sour with disappointment was definitely turning out better then he had thought. She turned profile as she busied herself with her work and Owen watched her heavy breasts push against the fabric of her blouse. This one was definitely ripe. How had he not noticed her before now?

"Was your evening satisfactory, Milord?" She asked as she worked. Owen paused and wondered how much she knew about his evening.

"No," He said after long consideration. "It was not. My . . . guest . . . was less than pleasing." He waited and watched her reaction. Did she know he had a village whore up here tonight? Tonight? Many nights. Did she know what he did behind closed doors?

"I . . . " she started and then stopped. She blushed again. Yes, she knew all right.

"You?" Owen prompted her.

"I . . . I thought perhaps you were not happy. She went home very early." Owen chuckled. So, his schedule was kept track of by the help, eh?

"Early?" He asked and wondered how far she'd go. She was struggling with each word; he knew it did not come easy for her questioning him.

"Yes, Milord. Early." She looked away at the wall and stood up straight and straightened out the fabric of her skirt.

"How do you gauge it to have been early?" he asked, smiling like a cat playing with a mouse.

"I . . . Ah . . . You . . ." She stopped and took a deep breath and looked him in the eye and then blushed and lowered her gaze. "I have noticed that most guests tend to stay later."

"You mean my whores?" Owen grinned; he wanted to see how flustered he could make this poor girl. This was turning into quite an amusing night after all.

She looked at him, but not in shock. There was something in her gaze, something he had not expected. "Yes, Milord . . . your whores. They usually stay later."

My God, Owen thought and almost started to laugh. The little wench was aroused. He grinned from ear to ear. The saucy little thing must listen in on his guests and him. He sat back and stared at her up and down. How had he missed the gawky little girl becoming this woman who would dare peek at him? He liked it.

"Yes, well . . . she had not the same cravings as I had been led to believe," Owen stated.

"Cravings?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Owen laughed. Her bravado was slowly fading. "Yes, cravings . . . desires . . . hungers." He leaned forward and whispered loud enough for her to hear. "You know about hunger, don't you, my pretty little peeper?"

She blushed and was flustered. She grabbed the empty snifter and dirty plate and tried to leave. Owen stood up and slipped between her and the door. He stood in her way and smiled as she nearly panicked. This was most fun, he was glad the whore turned out to be unsatisfying now.

"So tell me, my sweet peeper, what naughty things have you spied upon?" He stepped close enough that his long hair brushed on her exposed cleavage as he continued whispering in her ear. "What have you watched through the key hole? Hmm? What has got you so brave and bold?"

She stammered and looked away but he placed a finger under her chin and brought her eyes back to meet his. Her nipples pressed hard against the fabric of her top and her cheeks were flush. She looked him in the eye then quickly looked down again.

"I've seen you with them, Milord." She fidgeted but continued. "I have for years now." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to peep, Milord, but . . . I heard screams and . . . and. . . and other sounds." She shuddered and blushed.

"And so you had to see?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, Milord." she answered in a tiny voice.

"And what did you see?" he asked and grinned, his hand tracing across the exposed swell of her large breasts. "What, oh what, did you peep?"

"Things that scared me, Milord."

"Then why did you keep coming back?"

She looked up at him and met his gaze for a second before she looked away again. "I . . . I . . . I don't know. Or . . . actually didn't know."

"Didn't?"

"No, Sir, not till tonight, Milord." She looked at him again, her eyes wide with sweet wonder.

"And what did you peep tonight that changed things so for you?" His lips were almost touching her ears as he leaned in to whisper it.

"Tha . . . that she was not what you wanted . . . not what you needed."

"And that changed everything?" he asked.

"No."

"Then tell me, sweet peeper."

She took a deep breath. "What changed it was . . . was . . ." She stopped.

"Tell me," he urged her gently.

"I . . . " She stopped again and her voice quivered. "I . . . "

"You . . . ?"

"I hated her for not being what you needed."

Owen was caught off guard. He stood and thought and smiled. Such loyalty from the shadows; he was impressed. He stepped back and looked at her. She was obviously aroused, horny, wanton . . . but she was also scared. Terrified as a matter of fact. He smiled at her and brushed her hair back from her face and she shuddered at his touch.

"You . . . " she started and stopped, biting her lip.

"I . . . ?" he prompted.

"You don't need them, Milord." she said and clenched her eyes shut.

"I don't? Now my chamber maid is going to tell me what I. . . "

"No, Milord, you mistake me," she said frantically. "I do not tell you what you need . . . but . . . "

"But what, girl?" The impudence of this girl to be sitting here, telling him what he nee--

"You don't need them, Milord. You can have me, Milord. I will satisfy those needs . . . those cravings. Those hungers you have."

Owen stopped and looked at her. "So the servant wishes to be the lady of the manor now?"

"No . . . no no no no." She shook her head back and forth, eyes pleading with him for mercy. "No, Milord, I have no . . . no . . . no . . . I would never presume . . . No . . ."

"Then what?"

She looked at him again, her eyes, almost full of tears, pleading, hoping, hungry. "Me, Milord. I will be your whore."

Owen was dumb struck.

"I will be what you need to sate those cravings, Milord. I have watched and wished, and I have those same hungers . . . Please, Milord, use me . . . let me be your whore."

He could not think of what to say. Her plea, her offer, it was much unexpected. It was . . . too perfect. She was so ripe. So ready for the taking. So full of life and youth and so tasty to look at. She was a feast, unlike the common whores that would indulge his cravings. She was virgin flesh; pure in her hunger. He looked at her and saw she was telling him the truth; she was begging him for her heart's desire.

"My sweet little peeper, what would your mother say?" Her mother was the cook. Her family had served his for generations. This was a fine line but, a well respected one . . . Dare he cross it?

"I . . . she won't know. No one will know. Behind closed doors, they do not know what you do. They do not know the hungers. Please . . . let me be. . ." She crumpled to her knees and took his hand and began to kiss it at first like a beggar, and then with greater sensuality.

"My sweet peeper. . ."

 She began to suck on one of his fingers, looking up, her eyes telling him she knew just what thoughts she was setting into his mind.

He weighed all the possible outcomes in his mind. Thought of the possible problems, the entanglements that this might bring. He thought of her family and how they would react. He thought of the local vicar and his having another cause to rally the puritans around to try and cause problems for Owen. Then she slid his finger all the way down her throat and licked his palm and he stopped thinking.

Smiling an evil grin he watched her suck his finger and then sit back on her heels. She smiled up at him, seeing his cock was rock hard in his pants. Owen watched her raise a shy hand up and slowly trace the outline of his cock through the fabric and then giggle. Dear God he loved virgins! He growled and looked at her and made his choice.

He snatched her hand as she went to trace his cock again and slapped it hard. She squealed and he laughed. "You'll touch when you are told to touch."

She nodded.

"Stand up," he ordered her and she complied immediately. Owen began to examine her, she was a fine specimen. Large breasts, wide hips, sweet unmarked skin and a pretty face on top of it all. He smiled. He liked.

He reached out and gently touched her chin and raised her face up. He looked into her eyes. There was no fear there, hunger . . . desire . . . excitement . . . but no fear. Grabbing her shirt he ripped it open and let her breasts spill out. She was shocked and let out a yelp. Grabbing her nipples between his fingers he squeezed until she yelped louder and tried to pull away. He looked back into her eyes, grabbing her hair he pulled her face to his and he peered into her, there was fear there now. Good he liked fear.

Taking a great handful of her hair he pushed/pulled her towards the huge four poster bed. As they went he used his free hand to shred the back of the peasant blouse as well and leave her topless, tatters hanging from her hips. Her big tits swaying as she walked, nipples rock hard. Her breathing a panting now. He thrust her forward and she grabbed the bed post for balance.

Reaching down to the floor he grabbed two strips of the ripped shirt and turned back to her. As she went to pull her hands down he swatted her ass hard and grabbed one wrist and put it back to the post. Understanding she grabbed the post again with both hands. Looping the shreds of fabric around her wrists he made quick work of tying her in place there.

Once sure she was secure he stepped back and opened his shirt as well. He was sweating already from his own excitement. Yes, this is what he needed. He crouched down and put his hands under her skirt and petticoat and lifted them up. There was so much fabric it began to bunch so he let it fall again and laughed. He spun around and walked to the mantle over the fireplace and grabbed down a small dagger and then strode back to her, sliding the steel blade from its sheath.

Grabbing the fabric again he sliced the knife through it, cutting it into strips and ripping them away. Each discarded shred made her shudder in excitement. As he ripped the cloth he began to rest the tip of the knife against her flesh, pushing in slightly. She moaned at the pain and shook from the fear she allowed herself.

He cut apart the whole back of her skirt and the entire petticoat leaving her ass in leggings only. He reached down and grabbed her sweet ample cheeks and squeezed them. She shook and moaned, and had a small climax. He laughed and swatted her ass hard as she came and shivered. This one was going to be fun.

Grabbing the center seam to the leggings he pulled and ripped them apart, leaving her legs covered but her ass and sweet virgin cunt exposed. She was dripping wet, the curly hair dark and matted with her juice already. He grabbed a cheek and spread her wide open; her sweet pouty cunt lips parted and revealed the tempting pink folds within. He slid a finger into her and then pulled it out. She was moaning and shaking as he did it twice more, making sure his finger was well coated with her pussy. Then he reached around and stuck the finger in her mouth. She sucked on it hungrily.

Leaving her there for a moment, he walked to his armoire and opened the top drawer. He reached inside fished around until he found what he was searching for. Out came a long leather cat o' nine tails. He swung it in the air and smiled; he loved that sound. He returned to her and ran his hand over her flawless skin. No pock marks, no blemishes. She was like a blank canvas to a master painter.

He leaned forward and kissed her between the shoulder blades and she wept. He kissed up her neck and swept her long hair over her shoulder to hang in her front. Her back was bare. She was ready to become his art.

Stepping back he swung the cat o' nine gently the first time, allowing the tails to hit without force and pain and slide off her. She was shaking, afraid, excited, ready. He swung it hard the next time, swinging a figure 8 loop and allowing only the very tips of the whip to strike her flesh. The stinging sensation was great he knew. A crisscross of soft red lines appeared on her flesh and he smiled. He loved when they marked well.

Taking a sure stance, one foot forward, weight centered, he swung again. This time the lashes fell directly across her skin hard. The resounding snap/crack was like music. She moaned and shook and he watched the angry red marks start to appear instantly. He raised the cat and swung again and again. The red marks soon crisscrossed and formed into a beautiful patchwork of pain on her.

"Will you be my whore?" he growled at her as the cat fell again and she screamed out.

"Yesss," she whimpered as she tried to recover.

"My whoooore," hHe growled again and struck her hard across the ass cheeks. She went up on tippy toe and yelped. He swung it again and caught the bottom of her ass cheeks, making her moan in pain.

"Who are you?" he demanded and slashed across her open back with the cat.

"Whoooore," she moaned. "Yooooour whooore."

"Yes," he panted back and struck her again and again until small trickles of blood drizzled down her flesh and she fell limp in her bonds.

Grabbing the dagger again he cut the cloth and caught her as she slipped free of the ties. He gently lowered her down into his lap and held her, stroking her hair, fondling her breasts, and kissing her. As he held her he whispered in her ear over and over, "Mine . . . my whore . . . my precious whore." She shook and wept and smiled. Yes, she was.

He held her for what seemed like hours until she came around again. Groggy but functional, she peered up at him. He bent forward and kissed her passionately. She responded and opened her mouth to allow his tongue to explore her. As they kissed her reached down and squeezed her breast until she moaned.

Taking the knife once more, he made quick work of cutting away her skirt from the front, leaving her in only the ripped leggings. She was not shy about being nude before him. In fact she spread her legs for him as his hand slid down her body. His fingers slipped into her dripping cunt and she moaned, and tried to thrust herself farther on his fingers. He bit her lip and she stopped immediately. He opened her up and began to play with her, allowing his thumb to caress and tease her clit as his fingers violated her.

She shuddered and moaned and her back arched as she came for him. Clearly for her first time, as her eyes went wide with surprise. With her body left trembling she tried to look up and meet his gaze but couldn't. Instead she pressed her face against his chest and purred. Owen allowed her a moment to collect herself and then pushed her to sit up.

Standing, he undid the ties on the front of his pants and pulled them open. He reached in and took out his hard cock, the head wet with precum. He stroked it and watched her lick her lips greedily. Grabbing her hair, he pulled her face onto his cock and she opened her mouth to accept it.

She sucked and licked and her teeth grated across his shaft until he slowed down, whispering for her to relax, not to try so hard. She started again and made great effort to cover her teeth with her lips and suck him right. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it; she was very good for a beginner. He collected more of her hair in his fist and held her head in place while he slowly pumped into her sucking mouth.

He pulled his cock out and used her saliva as lubricant to stroke it. She sat there with a child-like look of glee, her eyes locked on the cock inches away. He smiled, pushed himself back into her mouth then pulled out and continued pumping his big hard cock in her face.

He pulled hard on her hair and brought her to her feet. Still stroking his cock he pushed her onto the bed face down, legs over the side. Smacking her ass several times, he prompted her to spread her legs wide for him. As she did, he pressed his cock against her pussy lips and rubbed it up and down her cunt slit to make it nice and wet. As the head rubbed over her clit she shuddered with a small climax. He didn't wait for her to get past it; he pressed his head into her hole and thrust into her with one long firm thrust.

He felt her virgin wall and pushed gently but forcibly through it, feeling it break and yield to his fucking. She cried out and some blood trickled out but Owen did not stop. He began to gently thrust in and out of her, holding her hair in one hand and her ass cheek spread open in the other. She began to moan and thrust back as she slowly grew used to the feeling of being stuffed with a hard cock.

"Your whore, Milord . . . Your whore," she was chanting over and over as they fucked. Owen liked it, he smacked her ass and spread her wider to fuck deeper and harder.

His cock was slamming in and out of her tight cunt faster and faster. The sound of their bodies slapping together like thunder in the room. Owen leaned into her, his long hair tickling across her back as they fucked, his sweat dripping on her wounds. She moaned with each drop and begged for more.

Owen pulled her hair hard enough to arch her back and placed one foot up on the bed rail to fuck her as hard as he could. She screamed in pure pleasure and came for him again and again as he hammered her mercilessly. Finally he felt his balls about to explode. He growled and bit her shoulder hard, making her scream in pain; the sound, like sweet music. He growled again and slammed into her, sending a spray of cum to fill her deeply. He didn't stop, he kept fucking her until the cum and blood mixed and squished out and ran down onto the bed sheets.

Exhausted and spent, he collapsed on top of her panting and sweating. She purred and pushed her head back against his chest. Owen felt her body still shaking with orgasm.  He kissed her shoulders and then as she turned her face kissed her long and passionately.

"Your whore, Milord," she whispered breathlessly at him and Owen smiled. His whore . . . his precious whore.

 

 

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