Spank me mr darcy, p.17
Spank Me, Mr. Darcy, page 17
“I will not stand for this,” she said.
He pulled her over to the armoire. “Then kneel,” he said. “I have something for your nerves.” With a firm push, Mrs. Bennet was on her knees before her husband, her hands trapped behind her back.
“Mr. Bennet,” she said in a breathy, excited voice. And then she couldn’t speak as her husband angled his cock into her mouth.
He held her head tight against his hips, letting her accept all of him to the back of her throat. “That’s it, my dear. Take it all. You just suck while I put together a little surprise for you.”
He guided her head up and down on him. “Just like that my love. Just like that.”
Mrs. Bennet took out her frustrations on her husband’s thick phallus. She sucked hard and long down the tempting length of him. His firm hand on the back of her head drove all thoughts of the horrid Mr. Collins from her mind. She concentrated on tasting him, enjoying the soothing motions of pleasuring him.
“Ah my darling, I’m ready for you. I do not want to spend myself down your throat.” He eased out of her. Mrs. Bennet felt oddly bereft until he bent her over his desk and hauled up her skirts.
Kicking her feet wider, Mr. Bennet smoothed the layers of cloth over his wife’s bound arms.
“Aren’t you pretty down there,” he said, fingering her wetness. “Like a pink flower.”
He ran his palms over her exposed backside. “Are you wondering what delights I have for you madam?”
Mrs. Bennet tried to hang on to her righteous indignation. “I am not the least bit … Oh!” she ended with when Mr. Bennet drizzled warmed oil into her backside. She felt a warm slick, solid probe against her posterior.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Mr. Bennet eased the slim, rosewood phallus inside his wife’s anus. “How does that feel?” he asked.
“Tight,” she breathed.
He positioned himself to slip into her other opening that eagerly clenched around him.
“Full,” she giggled. “And oh so wonderful.”
“Let me ease your nerves, my dear.” He hauled her back against him and drummed her body into the desk.
Mrs. Bennet writhed, feeling stretched and completely filled. Her husband’s rhythmic thrusts pushed the wooden one as well so it was as if she was enjoying two men inside her at once. The thought was so thrilling, so delicious that she began to move her hips to allow him deeper access. Her hands were bound tight otherwise she’d be rubbing herself as well.
“How are your nerves now, my dear?” He asked, picking up speed so her breasts mashed against his desk. “I fear I cannot keep up this pace.”
She looked over her shoulder. He clamped a hand on it to drive himself deeper.
“Yes,” she groaned out, deep and satisfied.
He slapped her plump butt cheek and pistoned inside her.
“Yes,” she shrieked and wildly pushed back as need and desire clashed with the desperate building sensation. She felt herself at the precipice and her vision darkened with the force of her orgasm. Mr. Bennet followed shortly with a harsh shout and another smack on her exposed buttocks.
Pulling out, he fixed himself and left her recovering face down on the desk. She felt boneless as he lifted one leg, slid a leather loop around it and then did the same for the other.
“What?” she muttered, drunk on the aftermath of bliss.
Leather rolled up her legs, tightening on her thighs. The wooden phallus in her backside dipped inside her and pleasure cascaded again. She heard the tightening of a restraint, but couldn’t fathom what it was until a second phallus entered her quim. She cried out, and Mr. Bennet hauled her back to her feet by her bound arms.
Her chemise and dress fell correctly, but the phalluses inside her stayed.
Mr. Bennet grasped the back of her head, kissing her startled face. His free hand swatted her rump making her tighten around the wooden rods.
“There now, keep those in until tonight. It should do wonders for your nerves.”
Mrs. Bennet could only nod in a dazed manner, until a sharp pinch on her nipples drew her eyes up to her husband’s. He pinched the other one, tugging them both until he had her full attention. “If they’re not in place when I come to bed tonight, you’ll feel the full force of my disproval. Do you understand?”
Voiceless, she nodded.
“That’s my wife.” He kissed her again and with another swat on her rump, sent her away.
Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motives his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving her mother’s reproach prevented his feeling any regret.
While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, “I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him.”
Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, who came to tell the same news.Charlotte’s reply was spared by the entrance of Jane and Elizabeth.
They were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered the room with an air more stately than usual, and on perceiving whom, Mrs. Bennet said to the girls, “Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and let me and Mr. Collins have a little conversation together.”
Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending not to hear. She looked at Mr. Collins out of the side of her eyes.
In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet began the projected conversation: “Oh! Mr. Collins!”
“My dear madam,” replied he, “let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from me,” he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, “to resent the behaviour of your daughter.”
Charlotte nearly snorted. Lizzie had hurt his pride all right.
“You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter’s favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismission from your daughter’s lips instead of your own. But we are all liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due consideration for the advantage of all your family, and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologise.”
Charlotte straightened away from the window and demurely cast her eyes down. If Elizabeth was throwing husbands away, surely she wouldn’t mind if Charlotte cast her net in the same sea.
Chapter 21
The discussion of Mr. Collins’s offer was now nearly at an end, and Elizabeth had only to suffer from the uncomfortable feelings necessarily attending it, and occasionally from some peevish allusions of her mother. As for the gentleman himself, his feelings were chiefly expressed, not by embarrassment or dejection, or by trying to avoid her, but by stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely ever spoke to her, and the assiduous attentions which he had been so sensible of himself were transferred for the rest of the day to Miss Lucas, whose civility in listening to him was a seasonable relief to them all, and especially to her friend.
A few days later, a letter was delivered to Miss Jane Bennet. It came from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady’s fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister’s countenance change as she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. With a glance, Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room, Jane, taking out the letter, said:
“This is from Caroline Bingley; what it contains has surprised me a good deal. The whole party has left Netherfield by this time, and are on their way to town—and without any intention of coming back again. “
“Well,” Elizabeth said. “Did she say why the family is leaving or when they’ll be back? The suddenness of their removal surprised her, but she saw nothing in it really to lament; it was not to be supposed that their absence from Netherfield would prevent Mr. Bingley’s being there; and as to the loss of their society, she was persuaded that Jane must cease to regard it, in the enjoyment of his. If she were to be Bingley’s wife, she should not further dally with his sisters, no matter how delightful the intercourse was.
“Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister.” Jane read.
Elizabeth flinched at hearing his name. She was used to calling out for him in her head, and rethinking his offer time and time again.
Jane continued reading Miss Bingley’s letter, not noticing her sister’s visceral reaction to the mention of Mr. Darcy.
“To confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?”
“No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his affection,” Elizabeth said, snatching the letter up and shaking her head at the prim penmanship. “Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them,” Elizabeth said bitterly. Mr. Darcy had said as much to her. “Miss Bingley is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that when there has been one intermarriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity, and I dare say it would succeed, if Miss de Bourgh were out of the way. But, my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest degree less sensible of your merit than when he took leave of you on Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend.”
“If we thought alike of Miss Bingley,” replied Jane, “your representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving herself.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Jane would never see anything but the good in people. She wouldn’t fathom that Caroline Bingley was a jealous, sniping shrew. “He’ll be back,” Elizabeth said. “I promise you.
“What if I was too forward?” Jane whispered. “What if I chased him away with my wantonness?”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t give this letter a second thought. He’ll be back by Christmas.” Elizabeth kissed her sister on the forehead. “I mean it.” She waggled her finger in warning and then went back downstairs to see if she could speak to avoid Mr. Collins long enough to get a message to Charlotte.
Jane lay down on the bed and reread the letter over and over again. Finally, she tossed it aside and closed her eyes.
“Oh Mr. Bingley,” she sighed, remembering the furtive way he stole into her bedchamber.
“Miss Bennet,” he had said, “Forgive my boldness but my desire to see you outweighs common sense – common decency as well.”
“I would forgive you anything,” she said to him, her breathing quickened when he knelt on the bed.
“Would you forgive me this, my dearest one?” Mr. Bingley had slipped her sleeping gown off her shoulders and down over her breasts.
Her nipples had puckered at being exposed to the cool night air.
At the memory, Jane reached inside her bodice and fondled while thinking of what Mr. Bingley did next.
She had let him look his fill, admiring as his fingers trembled when at last he deigned to touch them. His mouth was warm, tongue stroking across her peaks. His lips had clamped down on one nipple, sucking it deep in his mouth.
“Mr. Bingley!” Jane had cried out in delight.
“Do I go too far?” He raised his head to look at her in concern. “Here you lie sick in my house and I can do naught but take advantage of you. I assure you, my darling Miss Bennet, I am not a cad.”
Jane did not tell him that his sisters gone farther and with less remorse. But he had something she wanted that his sisters couldn’t provide no matter how talented their tongues were. She reached for his breeches and his eyes went wide.
“My darling,” he had said as she freed his large member from his pants. “Are you sure?”
Jane had nodded and pulled him close so his hardness was nestled between her two breasts.
Remembering how he slid out of his pants so she could feel his skin against hers, Jane pulled up her skirts in her lonely bedroom and traced her fingers over the throbbing bud between her legs. Her other hand idly pinched her nipples, tugging and stretching them.
Bingley had settled himself between her breasts. His hands squeezed the sides of her pillowy mounds against his thick member and he began to move up and down. Wickedly, Jane had stretched her tongue out so the head of him hit it at each stroke. Her hands ran over his muscled buttocks, feeling them flex. With him grunting and her licking, he soon spilled his seed over her neck.
“I apologize, my dear Miss Bennet. Allow me to clean you up.”
Jane shivered as her fingers rocked her to orgasm when she recalled his tongue licking her dry.
“I would have you in my mouth, Mr. Bingley,” she said when he was finished.
“I would not tax you further lest your illness worsen,” he said and kissed her until she was nearly stripping the clothes off him in desperation.
“Mr. Bingley,” she begged, grasping his hardness.
“I could lose myself inside of you,” he said, pushing up her skirts to play with the wet folds between her legs.
“Take me, Mr. Bingley. Make me your own,” she cried.”When you are better, Miss Bennet. Until then, find peace in my lips and fingers.”
He spoke no more to her until Jane had shrieked in pleasure into her pillow.
Jane fingered herself to another delicious orgasm, picturing Mr. Bingley’s fine form attended her in a most intimate manner. Elizabeth had to be right. He would be back for her in time for Christmas.
Chapter 22
The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins. Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her.
“It keeps him in good humour,” said she, “and I am more obliged to you than I can express.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t more time together,” Elizabeth said, smiling at her.
Charlotte looked taken aback. “I could not compare to the delights of Netherfield.”
Elizabeth would never tell her she was correct, but Charlotte knew from her body language and the way she would stare out the open window as if expecting someone – someone who wasn’t Charlotte.
So Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful in regards to Mr. Collins, and that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was very amiable, but Charlotte’s kindness extended farther than Elizabeth had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her from any return of Mr. Collins’s addresses, by engaging them towards herself. Such was Miss Lucas’s scheme; and appearances were so favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost secure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon.
But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet
His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.
“Miss Lucas,” Mr. Collins began, stopping as Charlotte took off her head scarf and wrapped it around his neck.
“Follow me,” she said with a sultry smile.
Dumbfounded, Mr. Collins allowed himself to be lead into the Lucas’ home and they very quietly crept up the stairs to Charlotte’s bedchamber.
“What I mean to say, Miss Lucas…,” he began again.
“Silence,” she ordered.
And with years of training kicking in, his mouth snapped shut.
“Sit down on the bed and remove your clothes,” she told him.
When he went to open his mouth to protest, she gave him her most severe look and he obeyed without comment.
“Watch me,” she said and slowly stripped off her apron.
His eyes were fever bright. When he tried to speak again, she wrapped the scarf around his mouth to gag him.
“Untie my stays,” she ordered after slipping out of her dress. Charlotte liked that his fingers made quick work of the garment and she pulled off her chemise to stand naked in front of him.
