Blinking my eyes several times, I turned my head to glance outside the windows. Thick clouds hang in the sky, allowing little moonlight to shine through, plunging the room into darkness.
Where was I?
I moved to sit up. That was when I felt my hands and legs restrained. How could that happened? I pulled hard but could not set myself free.
Fear surged in my bosom.
Where was I? I thought hard. The chamber looked vaguely familiar.
Finally wit came to my thick head.
I was in Netherfield!
But who played such a trick and tied me to the bed?
As if my thought conjectured up the person, the servant door cracked open with an eerie sound. The shadow of a tall man, cast by the candle light in the corridor, loomed. The man crept stealthily into the room.
“Who is there?” I demanded, in a breathless voice. Fear turned to panic.
“Ah, the prisoner has woken!”
“Mr. Darcy!” I cried out. Panic turned into anger. I pressed my lips tight. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Magistrate Darcy to you, Elizabeth!” He said in an arrogant voice, stepping very near to the bed.
The fog of sleepiness lifted from my head. My indignation rose. “I repeat, what is the meaning of this?”
“Madam, you are accused of a grave crime and now under house arrest, pending my interrogation.”
“In the middle of the night?” I arched my eyebrows and pulled at the restrained on my hands.
“The gravity of the matter requires such urgent manner of inquiry.” Wind blew for a moment, clearing the clouds for me to see that he was dressed most improperly. His upper body was bare. He wore nothing but his trousers. He folded his arm across his chest. That was when I saw a riding crop in his hand.
“I question the impropriety of your attire and the implement you had with you, Magistrate!” I pulled the ties to my legs this time. “I demand to be released, immediately.”
Mr. Darcy walked closer to the bed. Using the tip of the riding crop, he traced it along my left leg, from the ankle up to the thigh. Over the thin fabric of my night gown, I shuddered. A trembling sensation cruised to the apex of my legs. Heat rose in my face, spreading down my neck to my chest. I spied that his eyes focused on my body.
“I protest…” my complaint was cut mid sentence as he leaned forward to use the hard rod of the whip to caress my sex. Draw in few quick breathes, I tried to gather my wit to continue my protest. But it was all in vain.
Mr. Darcy was an expert horseman who knew how to use his riding crop well. With deliberately slow motions, he slid it across my secret lips, rubbing them slowly. Wetness pooled at my apex. A glottal moan escaped my mouth and my hips moved uncontrollably on the bed.
“Now, prisoner, do you confess to your crime?” His voice was thick and husky.
I was an honest gentlewoman my whole life. Magistrate Darcy would not make me confess to something I had not done, even though he was punishing me with such tortuous act.
I bit my lips and retorted abruptly, “What crime is it? I cannot confess to any crime I have not committed. I accuse you instead, Magistrate, for using illegal interrogation method!”
“Such impertinent!” Mr. Darcy moved the riding crop up, along my abdomen, to my breasts. Again with the hard shaft of the implement, he brushed my nipples roughly. I gasped and jerked my body up and down. His ministration created havoc on my body. I wanted to break free from the restraints and grabbed the black evil rod from his hand.
But I was in vain.
The jostling of the body did not give me freedom; instead it brought only pain and strange sensation inside of me. It also made the night gown part open, allowing the horrible Mr. Darcy stared at my semi-nude form. He licked his lips and drew in loud breath. I could see a bulge emerging at the front of his trousers.
“You are accused of stealing an important thing from me.”
“From you?” I repeated, in a higher pitch. Emotion was running high and I might not have full control of my own self. “As you are the victim, it is not right for you to trial this case and interrogate me!”
“Madam, you are a smooth operator. I shall not allow other inexperienced investigator or magistrate to let you get away from the rightful punishment.”
“I declare it injustice, Magistrate Darcy. You must release me or hand me over to another…”
“You want another man?” His voice trembled. “I shall never allow it.” He dropped the whip, sat heavily on the bed by my side, grabbed the front lapel of the night gown and tore it completely off my body.
I gasped loudly.
With similar violent impatience, he stood and pulled off his trousers, releasing his raging arousal to my wide eyes. I swallowed as I stared at the glorious form in front of me. The strong muscles on his shoulders, torso and thighs throbbed. And his proud manhood sent a shiver down my spine.
“Did you still want another man to handle you?” He gritted out the words.
I should be fearful of this Mr. Darcy, with such intensity and passion. But my courage always rose in face of challenges. I squared my chin and said, “It is only fair that another man…”
He did not let me finish my sentence again. Instead, he lowered his huge body on top of me and captured my mouth with a violent kiss.
His lips were hot and demanding. His tongue pried open mine and thrust into my mouth, exploring the inner muscles and dueling with my tongue.
Coupled with the heavy weight of his body, the chisel plains and valleys of his masculine form, pressing and rubbing against me, I felt faint and breathless. And yet, every inch of my skin was alerted.
When he sensed my numbness, he released my mouth and moved downward, tracing wet kisses along my cheeks, jaw, neck, shoulders and breasts. I panted loudly, as he became frantic again, this time worshiping my nipple from different angle with his mouth, while his hand pulled the other nipple to rock hard.
I jerked my body up again, pushing my breasts to him. He licked and twirled the nipple for a long while. I wished I could grab his hair, either to push him away or press him closer to me. I did not know which way I preferred.
But my hands were tied. My body was on fire.
When he started suckling my nipples like a hungry babe, shaping and jutting out my breasts to his ministration, I cried out loud, in utterly senseless words.
The apex of my sex, where his flaming body was rubbing against, was flooded with my own juice. Finally with a loud scream, I felt dead to the world, like my body had flown to the sky.
But the merciless Magistrate Darcy did not stop his torture. He lowered his mouth further down my body, while his hand continued to knead my breasts. His hot and wet tongue drew a haphazard picture on my abdomen.
When his tongue brushed the hair on my apex, I startled back to high alert again.
I raised my body from the bed, trying to dislodge his mouth from kissing me down there. But the restraints on my hands and legs did not allow me full movement. His weight on me also gave him more control. I laid there with my legs wide opened, while he took advantage of the clearing clouds and the bright moonlight shinning through the windows to gaze at my sex.
Heat flooded my entire body. My protected upbringing told me it was not right to be looked at like this by a man. The protest on my lips was fallen to dead ears when Mr. Darcy nipped at my nub with his mouth.
I jerked at the sensation.
He used one hand now to hold my hip, while another hand moved to push my secret lips wider. His long strong tongue thrust into my entrance.
I screamed out loud. I drew up my legs, trying to press them together, but the restraints on my legs prevented that. Instead my movement press his head tighter in between my thighs. My toes curled as he thrust his tongue and kissing my sex continuously.
I could not stop the loud screams coming from my mouth. I panted and cried out more. When I darted my eyes to look at my sex for a moment, his dark eyes were staring at me, with a wild intense look that stopped my heart.
He thrust his tongue into me a few more times. I shuddered and reached the peak the second time.
I felt sure I could not be revived again, for I felt I burst into flame. But I was proved wrong almost immediately. Mr. Darcy raised his strong body and climbed on top of me. He then pushed his huge arousal into my entrance, slowly, inch by inch.
He was so incredibly hard and big. I felt I could not accommodate him. I moaned again. He sensed the tightness and my worries and caressed my breasts with tender hands. He lowered his mouth to kiss me softly. His gentle gestures took my mind off his invading manhood. The sensation on my mouth and breasts sent thrills around my body.
Suddenly I felt my hands freed. Instead of pushing Mr. Darcy off, I pressed his head to my breasts tightly with one hand, intending to savour his closeness, while rubbing the other hand along his back to feel his strong muscles.
My movements sent him over the edge. He shivered for a second and then quickened his thrusts. Like a mad man possessed, Mr. Darcy jammed into my body with force, then withdrew almost to the edge quickly and pounded into me again. His shaft inflamed my inner core. His wild and rough thrusting grazed every inch of my skin. The heat spread from my apex down my legs and up my breasts. I arched up my body in rhyme with his mad pounding. I felt that we were one body when he filled me to the hilt. When he pulled away from me, I swayed my hips up in hot pursuit of him. I smelt his woody scent and palmed the sweat on his back. I moaned and groaned with him, until the tip of his manhood finally sent a boiling sensation through my body. I shuddered as the burning heat and the needling sensation burst up to my head. I saw stars, thousands of them, blinding my eyes with brightness.
I reached the sun.
I was melting.
The world was disappearing around me, except for the strong man in my arms. My mind was void, not capable of any thoughts for a long while.
Then I felt again. I found Mr. Darcy trembled on top of me.
I could hear again. He let out a high pitch glottal cry, like the howl of an all mighty lion. His voice echoed in the wilderness.
I could feel again. His hot seed filled my core. My inner muscles tightened as he throbbed and pulsed inside me.
I squeezed as he gave, until he collapsed on top of me and I lay limb, once again.
I drifted off to sleep.
The next time I blinked open my eyes, I found myself lying on top of Mr. Darcy. My hands and legs were free.
“My prisoner, how did you find the punishment?”
I raised my head and looked at him. He had a smug smile. His eyes tinkled with brightness.
“What are you accusing me of stealing, Magistrate Darcy?”
“My heart, Mrs. Darcy.”
“That is a crime very grave indeed. Perhaps my punishment was a little too light.” I brushed my hands along his chest and arched my eyebrows suggestively.
“Hmm, perhaps the riding crop should be made better use of.”
I lifted my body and climbed off the bed quickly and dived for the riding crop. Then I stood eyeing the handsome creature on the bed, with my hands brushing along the whip, considering which part of his body I could exact revenge with.
Mr. Darcy’s lips curled up. The infuriating dimples appeared on his cheek.
“Now, Sir, you are in for punishment.”
“I get to admire your glorious form. I think it is no punishment.”
I stopped my hand as I realized I stood in front of him, without an inch of clothes. The moonlight shone brighter from outside, giving me no protection at all. I cried out annoyingly and bent down to pick up the clothes on the floor, hoping to cover my body from my husband’s hungry eyes.
As I turned my body, he howled loudly as he jumped from the bed and picked me by the waist, easily taken the whip from my hand and threw it away.
I protested and kicked him. “Trickster!”
“You are the one wishing for more punishment!” He laughed as he bent me over the table by the windows. His hands pressed mine on the edge of the table. Our eyes met over in the mirror. His face turned serious in the next moment and his eyes darkened. Then he moved his hand and spanked my buttock.
I gasped out loud.
After two playful strokes, Mr. Darcy grabbed my thighs with his hands and pushed his hard manhood into my entrance from behind.
I screamed out loud, unprepared for his sudden invasion. He thrust hard and deep, reaching my hilt with immediately, lifting my feet off the floor. How could he get hard so fast? And the angle of his attack gave me indescribable pleasure.
With strong hands holding my thighs, Mr. Darcy pulled his hot shaft almost out and then pushed right in again, fast, furious and hard. I stared at the pulsing of his torso through the mirror, the moving of hard rod, going in and out of my entrance from behind. I could see every muscle on his and my bodies, convulsing with his mad and masterful thrusts. My body hang up, with my legs supported by his hands, almost wrapping his waist in a backward fashion.
This position turned him wild. He was insatiable, pounding into me from behind for minutes, hours or ages. I reached twice the peaks, before he pulled out from my entrance. I felt a sense of lost. But he turned me over quickly and laid me on my back long side on the table, raising my legs to rest his shoulders, he jammed into once again immediately.
Now, I gazed at his fierce countenance as he continued to thrust into me. His hands took possession of my creamy mounds, squeezing my breasts and pulling at my nipples.
My throat was dry and my voice cracked. I turned my head to a side and captured myself on the mirror. My eyes were red, my lips swallowed and my hair tangled. His big strong hands were dark and hard, contrasting with my white and soft breasts. My nipples stood like two pebbles in red. The muscle on my abdomen trembled, in rhyme with Mr. Darcy’s pounding. My pump legs rested on his chiseled shoulders, with my toes stretched straight. My sex merged with his magnificent shaft.
Our moans, the smashing sound of our bodies and the squeaking noise of the table filled the chamber, until with another loud scream, I reached my climax again!
I was lost to the world for some hours. When I woke the third time, morning sun filled the room. I was once again lying on top of my handsome husband.
“A belated St. Valentine’s Day, my loveliest Elizabeth! Sorry I am late, for two days.”
I brushed my hands over Mr. Darcy’s stubble on the face. He was detained by a case in London and asked me to come to Netherfield first, promising he would arrive by St. Valentine’s Day. He bought the estate for me a year ago, so we could visit my parents at Longbourn with the comfort and privacy we wished.
“No letter full of words of four syllables from you?” I winked at him. “I think it is customary to exchange love letters during St. Valentine’s Day. I am not sure if our activities fit the celebration. Do you prefer whip over pen now?”
“Who cares about tradition, my dearest!” He smiled. “We can echo our love and romance any day, any way! And whip certainly has more fun than pen!” With those playful words, he raised his mouth and kissed me again. We arrived at Longbourn incredibly late, much to my mother’s despair.