Anonymous - The Loves of Lord Roxboro

A few moments' rest and she felt sufficiently strong to return to her observation post, and gluing her eye once more to her peephole, she observed what was occurring in the library.

Marie was just arising from the floor, her hair in disorder, her waist and breasts bare, her face flushed and smiling as she surveyed the lord with sparkling eyes.

“Did you like it, sir?” she inquired, approaching Lord Roxboro and grasping his now soft and flaccid root in her tiny fingers.

He gave vent to a long groan and, struggling to a sitting posture, drew the maid to him and kissed her fervently. “You surely do have a nimble tongue, my dear Marie,” he said, kissing her again. “I am sure we will have a lot of fun in the future. Now, like a good girl, kiss your mouthful and button me up pretty!”

Marie obediently kissed the now softened dart and, placing it carefully within the lord's trousers, buttoned them up and, after kissing his hairy chest, buttoned his underclothing and shirt and straightened his cravat. Giving a last pat to the cravat, she seated herself beside him on the couch. Putting an arm demurely about Lord Roxboro's shoulder, she rested her chin on his chest and, looking up into his face, inquired coyly, “Do you like your little Marie, master?”

He replied by kissing her and squeezing her close to his breast. “I have discovered that my pretty little maid is a most accomplished lady,” he said. “I only wish I had known this much sooner.”

“I always have admired you, my lord,” she said in a low voice. “I liked you when I first came here.”

“Did your husband educate you in the use of that agile tongue of yours?” he asked, his hand molding the milk-white breast of the willing girl.

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured. “My husband made me do a lot of things. I had to perform that act that you liked so much the very first night we were married. At first I thought it was terrible; it made me sick, but I had to do it. He wasn't anything like you, my lord. Oh, I hated him; he was so mean to me, beating me and hurting me all the time.”

“Beating and hurting you?” queried the lord. “Do you mean to say he would hurt you when you were performing that act on him? During the actual act?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “He would hurt me dreadfully. A favorite trick of his was to tie my hands tight so I couldn't protect myself; then he would force my mouth open with his hands, push his big thing into my mouth and drive it down into my throat until I thought I would surely be strangled. Many a time I fainted.”

– “Well, Marie, why do you suppose he treated you in such a rough manner? Were you stubborn with him? To tie you-to hurt you. I can't understand,” said Lord Roxboro in a puzzled tone. Familiar as he was with most of the methods used to excite the sexual urge, he could not understand.

“Why was it, Marie? Why should a man act in such a manner with a willing girl? Do you know? Did he ever say why he did it?”

“His reason, dear master,” replied Marie, snuggling closer to the lord's breast, her arms about his neck, “is that it affected his passions in the strongest possible manner. That there is some foundation in this I am convinced, as my husband would grow dreadfully excited and his prong would harden amazingly when he tortured me. For myself, of course, due to the pain and suffering this caused me, I did not like it at all, as you may imagine.”

“I wonder,” mused the lord, “if there really is some truth in this strange phase of sexual stimulation. Marquis de Sade, although long dead, may have instilled within his pupils peculiar ideas which may still work out in practice. Do you really mean, Marie, that your husband, while engaged in these tortures you have mentioned, suffered an increase in his feelings, that his passion was really stimulated to an extreme degree?”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Marie. “Whenever he abused me, his passions were roused in an instant. Why, there were many times when exhausted by the pleasures of the marriage bed, perhaps directly after a fierce combat that would leave him shrunken and flaccid in his sexual parts, he had only to abuse me or hurt me and instantly his tool would rise and he would be ready for more pleasure. I never knew of a time when this practice would not revive him.”

“I wonder,” mused the lord, as though talking to himself. “I have heard of this peculiar action from other sources besides yourself, Marie. Was your husband capable of having intercourse with you in the marriage bed in the normal manner? I mean, was he able to perform the act normally without recourse to cruelty to excite him?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” replied Marie. “He was always very, very passionate. I have never known the time he did not want to tumble me over, no matter where it might be-in the lane, in the cellar, in the carriage, in the field, at home, or anywhere. But it seemed to please him more when he was hurting me. Many a time he has battered me alongside the head and flung me suddenly upon my back, then mounted me in a jiffy. Why, many a time he has almost knocked me unconscious; I would come to and find he was on top of me with his thing inside of me. He always said it was so much better if it hurt me. He was a devil if there ever was one.”

“From what you say, it seems to bear out the theories propounded by certain philosophers, that cruelty and humiliation of girls stimulated the passions of a certain type of male. It sounds unique and novel, to say the least. The idea is somewhat intriguing. I wonder if there might be some truth in the assertions. Would you mind, my dear, if I hurt you, just a little, in order to prove to myself how I would react?” said he, kissing her tenderly while he toyed with her breasts.

“Oh, my lord, I love you so much, I would love to have you hurt me, if you didn't hurt too much!” she confessed, hiding her blushing head on his bosom.

“Why, you little minx,” cried Lord Roxboro, his eyes glowing with excitement, “I believe you would derive pleasure from these sadistic actions. Come, 'fess up, little one! Haven't you ever-the truth now-felt what you might term a pleasure at some of the times when you have been hurt so dreadfully? Answer me, now!”

“Only-only when I like a person,” murmured the flaming faced girl in a low voice. “You know, women frequently admire masterful men, and if I liked a man mightily, I would want him to be my master and protector, so if he weren't too cruel, I would like to be hurt, just a little bit, if he loved me.

Then fearing she had said too much, the girl buried her flaming face in his bosom once more.

“Aha, Miss Demureness,” cried the lord, and catching her chin in the palm of his hand and turning her pretty face up, he gazed directly into her beautiful eyes. “Only when you like a person. So there have been others who practiced this strange art whom you did not like. Others! A number of them, I suppose? This would make extremely interesting material for a story, I'll be bound! Come, tell it to me, I command you.”

The girl remained silent a moment. “Well, sir, this is somewhat embarrassing.”

“Fiddlesticks!” cried his lordship, “Out with it! You are not a child; come, come, tell me your experiences. You have had to do with others besides your husband, haven't you now?”

“Well, yes, sir,” she whispered in a low voice, her head averted. “Yes, sir, there were others!”

“So,” exulted the lord, kissing her, “I knew I was right in my guess! Come, now, Marie, tell me about it. Don't leave out a thing. Don't be bothered with false modesty; we understand each other, my pretty doll, and can speak plainly. Come now, tell me about it.” He gazed at her with interest. “Don't leave out anything. Were they lovers? Some stable-boy of your acquaintance, perhaps; that you are ashamed of?”