9. St. Erth
It was not necessary to have my wife suck my cock to complete my revenge. She only needed her legs pried or forced open to be bred.
But my desire had been growing in me and Catherine was completely under my power. So I was going to indulge in it.
When she still hesitated, I tightened my legs around her and drew my hard length out of my breeches.
“Remember this cock?” I asked. “Right now it goes in your mouth.”
How many times had I gotten my cock sucked, from some of the finest cock-suckers in the London Opera?
So why did the thought of my little shy red-haired wife doing it make me feel almost animalistic with need?
She looked at my thick length with undisguised loathing and I couldn’t help my lips twisting up in a wicked smile.
“Open your mouth,” I said, then I grabbed her heavy updo in one hand, the curls feeling silky and glossy under my fingers, and I drove her head harshly down on my cock.
Catherine squeaked with surprise as I hit the back of her throat, her body wriggling wildly under my hands.
I didn’t stop, only pulling my cock out to thrust brutally into her mouth again.
My hand was tight on her hair and she began to try to push against my thighs to escape.
“I am surprised to find you so disobedient, Catherine,” I said mockingly. “And I was told you were such a good girl, too.”
My wife’s eyes flicked up to mine, almost spitting fire at me, but she could only make unintelligible angry little noises with my cock stuffed in her mouth.
I watched her as I thrust in and out, holding her up by the hair so I had the perfect angle to watch my cock disappear inside her pretty wet mouth.
Fuck, she felt good.
I could tell her lips were going to be puffed-up and pink from how hard I took her, and the thought of how she would look sent pleasure spiraling up my spine.
“It’s just as the Good Book says,” I told her, running my other hand down her neck just to watch her shiver. “A wife’s open mouth is a blessing from the Lord.”
She made another strangled squeak, and probably would have said something like, “that’s not what that verse says,” if she had been able to talk.
The forced eye contact was pressing my release all along my spine, and I wanted to drag it out as long as I could, but I felt the tips of her nipples brush against my thighs as she was forced up and down on my cock and suddenly I burst in her mouth, one hand on her hair, the other on her throat to make sure she swallowed.
And she did, gulping as the tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes. Those little gulps were the most desirable noise I had ever heard and the deep groan that burst from my chest surprised me.
When I finally let her go, she fell backwards, still glaring at me.
I sat still for a moment in the chair, feeling that strange, elated release, the pleasure of Catherine’s body trapped between my thighs, then I pointed up on the bed as I released my hold on her. I wanted to breed my wife immediately, make that tiny belly swell with my seed.
But she gathered her skirts and stumbled to her feet, reaching out to the side table where she upended a lit candle onto the floor. And then she ran out the door.
I was astonished to see the dry wood suddenly catch and burst into flames.
Fuck! The little strumpet.
I fumed. How had a mousy little miss like Catherine Wendover manage to upend the candles directly where there was oil on the floor?
Calling harshly for my valet, I stomped at the flames. When Bodkins didn’t appear, I called loudly for him again.
By the time he had puffed unhappily up the stairs, I had stomped most of the fires out, and ordered him to take care of the rest.
“I’m going after my wife,” I said harshly.