Slave Of Fortune

An eBook By Jay Lawrence.

"I'm not going to let you go until you give me an answer, my dear. Yes or no? Should a wife yield to her lord and master?"

The young woman realised that she was blushing quite deeply and she bit her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I think it would depend on the circumstance."

"Oh, yes? What nonsense. What utter nonsense!"

The man's breath smelled of brandy, although it was still quite early in the day. His skin was sunburned, as if he had recently returned from foreign climes. His hands were large, with vast square palms.

"I think I shall steal a kiss for your impudence."

"Excuse me, sir..."

Lily tried to duck past the man but he was too quick for her. Harshly, he grasped both of her wrists in an iron grip, then pushed her against the rough trunk of a coconut palm. His mouth was hot and pungent upon her neck and she struggled with all her might but could not match his bovine strength. Finally, he lifted his head and pressed his fleshy lips upon her cheek in a coarse impression of a chaste caress.

"You're a sweet one. Indeed, I think I want more than a kiss. Drop your drawers."

"Sir!"

That would no doubt lose her her position. Not that

she cared too much but where could she go? Perhaps the scent of sex still followed her around, enveloping her like a sultry wraith. Maybe her life would always be with men, submissively serving their needs, not aiding in the running of a big ugly old house. Akenhead Hall felt like a cantankerous old matron, forever ringing her bell for attentions, small and large, always needy, a sprawling despotic tyrant of a house. But men's needs she understood. Resignedly, she let her captor lift her skirts, tug down her drawers and fumble with the buttons of his trouser fly. In a few brief moments, he had entered her, hard, thrusting deep inside her acquiescent body until she cried out in pain, taking her, using her in a way that was second nature to her. Once, twice, three times he thrust, then promptly discharged himself, crying out in an unintelligible moan. His eyes were tightly closed, a trace of spittle oozing from one corner of his fleshy mouth. Finally, he squinted down at Lily and grinned unpleasantly.

"You sweet little harlot. You've opened your legs many a time, I'll wager."

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