Austin Sinful Discipline

Victorian BDSM Mega-Bundle
1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-370-21675-8
Verlag: Boruma Publishing, LLC
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 87 Seiten

Nine filthy tales of Victorian lust, depravity and desire. Beneath the veneer of civility and etiquette, the raging passions of the Victorian age flow deep. Each story in this mega-bundle tells of a young woman dominated and despoiled, but ultimately embracing the dark side of her soul, and embracing her sinful discipline. This mega-bundle contains: Disciplined For Her Sins: The Complete Trilogy Hunted In the Woods And Taken Amelia's Punishment Taken At The Masquerade The Submission of Little Lady Sophia Ravishing The Flower-Girl Her Lesson In Discipline ----- PG Excerpt ----- The memories of that terrible day are forever branded onto my mind. My father had summoned me to his study. I had expected him to give me a gift or some other pleasant surprise for my birthday. But as soon as I laid eyes on him, I knew something was amiss. He was ashen faced and evasive, unable to look me in the eyes. Then he told me the horrible truth. 'Sophia, you are to be married,' he told me, his usually confident voice reduced to a guilty whisper. 'It is all arranged.' Naturally, I was taken aback. 'Married? But to whom Papa? I do not have a fiancé, nor have any gentlemen pressed their suit. Surely you are joking?' I could see plainly that he was not, but still nurtured a hope that he was simply playing some kind of cruel trick on me. He shook his head. 'I would not joke about such a thing. Like I said, it is all arranged. The contract has been drawn up, the banns displayed. The wedding will take place one week from today.' I gaped at him aghast, entirely lost for words. After a few moments I composed myself and managed to croak. 'But to whom?' He looked me in the eyes, and I could tell from the pain and grief in his expression that his answer would not please me. 'Lord Morgan. Lord Sebastian Morgan.' I felt dizzy; my head began to spin and I almost fainted. Surely this couldn't be true? Perhaps I was dreaming, and all of this was a nightmare? Any moment now I would awake and return to a more pleasant reality. But this was not a dream. I was very much awake, and this was very real. 'But Papa, how?' I cried in anguish. 'I hardly know the man. We've never even been introduced. How can I marry a man who hasn't even proposed to me? How can I marry a man who I'm not in love with? A man with such a cruel and wicked reputation?' Mt father smiled bitterly, tears in his eyes. 'Love? I'm sorry to disappoint you Sophia, but not everyone can marry for love. Some marriages are born of practicality. Some of ambition. Love often does not enter into it at all.'

Autoren/Hrsg.

Austin, Anna

Leseproben

Disciplined For Her Sins (Disciplined For Her Sins - Part 1)     The orphanage was all that Annie had ever known. Her parents had died in the Cholera epidemic of 1848 when Annie had been just two years old. Her relatives had not wanted another mouth to feed, so little Annie had been sent to the Bleakcroft Orphanage. She could not remember her parents at all, only the hard beds and strict discipline of her life as an orphan. Bleakcroft was a dismal and forbidding place, the old building built in a Gothic style that was grand and imposing, but did little to cheer the hearts of its unfortunate inhabitants. It was cold and draughty, and even in the summer the dormitories in which the orphans laid their weary heads were not warm. In winter, it was almost unbearable, and the youngsters would gather around the fire in the great hall, rubbing their hands and huddling together for warmth. During the long winter nights, many of the orphans would climb into bed together, sharing their body heat under the thin covers. Of course, this was strictly forbidden, and woe betide any young girl or boy or was discovered under the covers of another orphan's bed. Discipline at Bleakcroft was harsh. The adults who supervised the children – know as 'masters' and 'matrons' - were quick with their fists, and even the smallest of offences could be met with a swift box around the ears. For more serious crimes – swearing, or forgetting to make a bed – many of the masters and matrons would dish out punishment with the 'strap', a thin piece of leather that looked inoffensive, but which could inflict a great deal of pain when swung with accuracy and precision onto bare skin. The worst punishments were dealt out by Bleakcroft's Headmaster, Dr Thorn. Thorn was tall and imposing, with jet black hair and eyes that missed nothing. Those who were summoned to his office for truly serious offences returned pale and weeping, clutching their buttocks and refusing to speak about what cruel fate had befallen them. In her sixteen years at Bleakcroft. Annie had never been called before Dr Thorn. She had had her fair share of run-ins with the masters and matrons, and bore the bruises to prove it, but she had thankfully never seen the inside of Thorn's office. And now, with only 6 months until she would be able to leave the orphanage, she rather hoped she never would. Orphans could leave Bleakcroft when they turned nineteen, and although many ran away before they reached that age, Annie intended to see her time out. After all, she had many friends amongst the orphans there, and she would be sad to bid them farewell. More than that though, she had no real prospects outside of the orphanage. No family to turn to, no employment to enter into, no place to live. And no potential husband either. That would have been her preference – to find a rich man, marry him, and lead a life of comfort and ease far removed from existence she was used to. Rumour amongst the orphans had it that once, years ago, one of the rich benefactors who came to visit Bleakcroft from time to time had taken a liking to one of the orphan girls, and had spirited her away to become his wife. Whether the rumour was true or not, Annie desperately wanted to believe it. Whenever there was a visit from one of these benefactors, she tried to look her best, tying a ribbon in her hair, and wearing clothes that accentuated her full figure. So far, nothing had come of it, but she still daydreamed about the day her saviour would arrive. He would be handsome, of course, and rich, and he would love Annie with an unbridled passion. He would take her away from Bleakcroft, and make her his wife. Lately though, Annie's fantasies had started to go a little further. She would lie in bed at night, imagining the exact features of her Prince Charming. He would be tall, with jet black hair, and strong cheekbones. His eyes would be green, and when she looked into them they would sparkle with the passion that he felt for her. Thinking such thoughts had made Annie feel funny, a dull ache developing between her legs. When she had reached down and touched herself down there, she had been surprised to find that the crevice between her legs was slick and wet. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before, and she was not sure what it meant. Then, one night, she had taken the fantasy further. Lying in bed, she had summoned up the mental image of her Prince Charming - but now she too featured in the daydream. She imagined him running his fingers through her long brown hair, gazing into her eyes, kissing her full lips. The ache started up again, and when Annie reached down she found that the wetness had returned. This time though, she kept her hand between her legs, sliding a finger between the lips of her cunny as she continued to picture her fantasy lover. Soon, she was sopping wet down there, her nerve endings tingling with pleasure as she dreamt of making love to the handsome stranger. She had never pleasured herself in this way before, but she wished she had. It felt divine, her fingers slipping back and forth, rubbing and teasing her moist slit. Annie became aware that the small nub of flesh above her slit was tingling, and seemingly hardening as she touched herself. Curiously, she reached up and brushed her fingers against it. She gasped as a wave of sensation erupted between her legs, far more intense than what she had been feeling before. This seemed to be the sweet spot! Gently, she began to rub her fingers against her little bud, moaning involuntarily as the pleasure intensified. Soon, she was groaning loudly, her fingers busy upon her newly discovered clit, the images in her head becoming more and more sinful. Now her Prince was stripping her, laying her down on a four poster bed. Now he was kissing her, not on the mouth but on her full, firm breasts, his mouth encircling her nipple. Now it was his hand between her legs, his rough fingers slippery with her wetness, brushing against her clit and causing her to cry out with pleasure and desire... So great was the pleasure as her climax overtook her that Annie barely noticed that she really was crying out as she came, her exultant cries echoing around the dormitory. But as the fire between her legs began to subside, she became dimly aware of footsteps approaching. Someone was coming! She opened her eyes, just in time to see the ugly, cruel faces of Mrs Scabbins and Mrs Mungle staring down at her. Both were matrons at Bleakcroft, and a crueller, meaner, more small minded pair of women could surely not be found across the whole British Empire, never mind at Bleakcroft. With a triumphant shriek, Mrs Scabbins threw back the covers of the bed, exposing Annie to their searching gaze. With disgust on their faces, they took it all in – Annie's bare sex, the trembling hand still clamped between her legs, the damp patch on the bed. “See! I told you Mrs Mungle” Mrs Scabbins hooted. “I told you a noise like that could only mean one thing! I told you someone was committing a terrible sin!” “God knows, you were right Mr Scabbins” her counterpart replied piously. “And a most terrible sin at that.” Her tone changed, and she looked down at Annie, sneering. “What have you got to say for yourself, you wanton hussy?” Anne pulled her nightgown down, trying to hide the wetness of her still raw and tingling slit from the two crones. “I...” she began, but Mr Scabbins interrupted her. “Don't you dare try and speak your weasel word to us, you slut! We know exactly what you were up to! We heard it, those sinful moans and whorish groans. Don't think you're the first little strumpet who's tried to commit a carnal sin on our watch!” Annie was now sitting up in bed, hugging her knees as the two women berated her. She became aware that all around the dormitory, the other orphans were sitting up in their beds, silently spectating. “You're right, you're right” Mrs Mungle continued. “She isn't the first, that's for sure. And we know just how to punish sinners in this establishment!” For a moment, Annie felt relieved. The strap was painful, but she could cope with it. Mrs Scabbins appeared to read her mind, or perhaps sensed her relief. Her sneer grew even more pronounced. “Oho!” she snarled. “I think our little harlot here thinks she's going to get off with just a few lashes of the strap! Well, she's got a lot more to fear that just that, hasn't she Mrs Mungle?” “That's right! That's right!” Mrs Mungle shrieked. “Dr Thorn will want to hear of this!” The blood in Annie's veins froze. Dr Thorn! They were going to take her to see the Headmaster! Mrs Scabbins leered viciously at her. “Dr Thorn takes a special interest in girls who commit this kind of sin.” She seemed to be taking a kind of sick amusement from Annie's obvious fear. For a moment, Annie's head was full of thoughts of flight. If she made a run for it, maybe she could scale the wall of the orphanage, and escape. Maybe if she got that far, her Prince Charming would be waiting for her. He would be astride a stallion, and he would lift her up alongside him, and gallop off into the sunset... Her dreams of romantic escape were cruelly interrupted as Mrs Scabbins grabbed her wrist with a bony hand. Annie tried to pull away, but her grip was surprisingly strong, and she held on grimly. At the same time, Mrs Mungle grabbed hold of her shoulders. Between them, the two women roughly dragged Annie out of her bed. “Come on lass! Don't try to struggle, or it'll be the worse for you” said...