The Ravishing of Constance

by Christine Morgan

         The balmy sea breeze stirred her golden hair. She tipped her head back to allow it better
play over the curves and hollows of her throat.
         Below, the docks of Veradoga teemed with activity. Constance could hear the ribald
laughter of sailors, pleased to be in port at last, mingled with the singsong chant of the local
merchants hawking their wares. Silver from Spain, fine clothes from France, silks and exotic
spices from the Far East ... the markets of Veradoga were among the richest in the islands.
         She sighed and fanned herself, for the gentle breeze had momentarily died away. The
moist air caused her perspiration to bead on her creamy skin. One drop traced its way down the
side of her neck and over the rising hill of her breast, then vanished into the lace that trimmed her
         "Good journey," she said softly, waving one last time to the ship on the horizon. Her
father, Lord deGranville, was on that ship. As governor of Veradoga, it was his duty to inspect the
smaller islands and their lush plantations.
         She wished that she could have gone with them, but her father would not allow it. "With
pirates growing bolder by the year," he had said, "I want you to stay safely at home. Robert will
look after you."
         Constance gazed wistfully after the ship. Although it was gone from her sight, she
imagined she could still make out a speck amid the blue of sea and sky. She imagined she was
aboard it, standing by the rail, a real wind caressing her instead of the fickle breath of the breeze.
         She closed her eyes and let her mind's fancy create the rhythmic swell of the waves, the
creak and flap of the timbers and sails. In all of her sixteen years, she had never been at sea.
         She could well understand her father's reluctance. Seven years ago,  her mother had set
sail to visit an ailing friend in England. Pirates had seized the vessel, and while the life of Lady
deGranville had been spared, her virtue had not. Returning to Veradoga, ransomed and in shame,
she had taken her own life.
         At the time, Constance had been too young to understand what had happened to her
mother. Now, with her girlhood behind her and womanhood fast approaching, she knew. Knew,
and to her own shame, sometimes dreamt of. Handsome pirates, their shirts open to reveal
tanned and muscular chests .. Oh, yes, the dreams sometimes even woke her, fevered and
confused, her bedclothes tangled and heart pounding. But it was not fear that left her in such a
         A shout drew her attention back to the window. Two white horses were racing up the road
toward the manor, their riders calling to each other in jesting insult as they raced. The lead horse's
rider was tall and fair, with hair as golden as her own, her elder brother, Robert. The second rider
was shorter and broadly built, dark-complected. Robert's companion Enrique.
         Born only days apart, the two had been inseperable since childhood. They had only
recently returned from Jamaica. It was Lord deGranville's hope that travel would settle Robert's
wild nature and make a fit man of him.
         Enrique's horse found some untapped reserve of strength and charged ahead. Rob struck
the flank of his own steed. They swept out of Constance's sight, around the manor toward the
stables, their voices and laughter trailing behind them like the wake of a ship.
         She turned from the window and began pinning up her hair, dressing for dinner without
the benefit of a maid. The servants had been given a holiday in the governor's absence, which did
not trouble Constance.
         Although she often bemoaned her lack of schooling in London, she admitted that she was
spared the personality that often came with it. Her father's frequent guests sometimes brought
their daughters, a parade of maidens to the wealthy, widowed lord and his son, and Constance
found them one and all to be flight, vain, foolish creatures for all their status and education.
         The great doors slammed as she approached the bannister. She peered over. Robert and
Enrique were stripping off their riding gloves, a bit dusty and disheveled but in good spirits.
         "Well, Constance!" Robert called, seeing her. "Father is off, and I am man of the house!
Be a good lass and see about supper, wiil you?"
         "Of course." She descended the wide staircase, trying not to notice the way Enrique's
eyes greedily followed her every move. Once like a brother to her, in recent years he had become
unsettling, even a bit frightening.
         There was no fault with his looks. His black hair was thick and wavy, his features heavy
yet handsome, but for some reason whenever he looked at her like that, Constance was reminded
of a boar.
         She saw about supper, as Robert had asked. It was too warm to do much cooking, so an
assortment of sliced meats and breads, with plenty of cheese and fresh fruit, made the bulk of the
         Robert sat in their father's chair with an utter lack of selfconsciousness, while Enrique sat
to his right, in the seat usually reserved for important guests. Constance kept to her own place,
apart from them. As if she wasn't even there, they spoke of drinking and gambling, of wenches in
town and on Jamaica. Constance did her best to ignore them.
         By the time supper was over, evening was settling over the island. Constance cleared the
table and went through the house, opening wide the windows to catch the cool air.
         She had just completed the task in her father's spacious study when she heard a sound
behind her. A footstep. She turned and saw Enrique lounging in the doorway.
         "Hello, Constance," he said, smiling with a sharklike expanse of teeth.
         "Hello, Enrique," she said, feeling quite uneasy at the way his gaze slowly traveled over
her body, lingering on certain areas.
         "You've grown up while Robert and I were away," he said. "As a child, you were always
pretty, but now ..."
         She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, for the first time wishing she hadn't pushed
her father to let her wear more adult garments. What had seemed perfectly respectable in the
privacy of her room now seemed like harlot's garb, too much fair skin exposed to Enrique's
glittering dark eyes.
         She resisted the urge, knowing that he would be amused by her modest attempt. Instead,
she tossed her head and forced a bright laugh. "You are too kind, Enrique. I'm sure Jamaica must
have been peopled with women far lovelier than simple little me."
         "None like you. None so fresh, so innocent." He came closer, and she retreated behind
the wide mahogany table while trying to make it seem that she was only moving to straighten the
items on the shelves.
         "Again, you are too kind." She cast a swift glance at the door, hoping to see Robert
appear, but there was no sign of him.
         "Constance." He was beside her even as she glanced away, his movements catlike and
silent, and his warm hand seized hers. "You inflame me."
         She laughed again, and this time the forced nature of it was apparent. "Don't be silly,
Enrique, you've always been as a brother to me." She tried subtly to free her hand, not wishing to
be rude and yank it away.
         His laugh was much more genuine. "But, dear Constance, I am not your brother." He
brought her captive hand to his mouth and kissed it.
         Good manners aside, she pulled away from him and stepped back. "Enrique! Stop!"
         He matched her retreat with a forward step of his own. "A kiss first."
         "No!" Another step back, and her bottom bumped into the edge of the table.
         "Aha! Now you are mine!" He grabbed her waist and pressed his lips against hers, urgent,
demanding, his thick tongue forcing her mouth open.
         Her outraged scream was muffled. Her struggles were ineffective against his strength. Her little
fists flailed uselessly at his shoulders. He paid no attention to her efforts and wormed his
tongue into her mouth. She tasted brandy on him.
         One arm encircled her, pulling her against him. He ground his hips lewdly, making sure
that she felt the hard bulge rubbing her belly. His other hand cupped her breast, pushing it up,
making it bulge above her neckline.
         She nearly swooned in shock, but retained enough of her wits to act. She stamped on his
foot, and seized his groping hand to bend the fingers back.
         Enrique cried out in pain and released her. She took advantage of his pause to squirm
away from him and flee around the table.
         "She-devil!" he snarled. "Get back here!"
         "Robert!" she screamed.
         Enrique vaulted over the table and caught her around the waist. She shrieked as her feet
left the ground. He flung her down on the table, the impact knocking the breath from her body.
         Before she could recover, he had clambered onto the table and lay half atop her. His
hands pinned her wrists above her head. He stared down into her wide, startled eyes.
         "I would have settled for just the kiss, but now you owe me for the insult! Think you're too
good for me? I've had women beg for my attention!"
         "Let me go! Enrique, for the love of God, stop this madness!"
         "Not until you've learned your lesson!" He raped her lips again, a vicious, bruising kiss. At
the same time, he forced his knee between her legs.
         "Dear Lord!" Robert's voice cried. "What is going on in here?!"
         Enrique raised his head. Constance gasped for breath and sobbed, "Rob! Thank heaven!
Help me!"
         "What are you doing to my sister?" Robert strode into the room, a scowl darkening his
handsome features.
         Enrique slid off the table. "I couldn't resist. At first, all I wanted was a single kiss, but she
denied me and fought like a wildcat."
         Constance gaped at him. He should have been cowering in fear and shame at having
been caught, but he merely gave Robert a shrug and a wry grin.
         Robert turned his gaze on her. She sat up, trying to smooth her touseled tresses. In
dismay, she realized that in their struggles, her skirt had bunched above her knees. She was in
utter disarray.
         "Constance, I am surprised at you." Robert sadly shook his head. "Is this how you show
hospitality to our guest?"
         "What?" She could hardly believe her ears.
         "Look at poor Enrique," Rob said with a wave of his hand. "You've aroused him with your
beauty and charm, with your teasing kisses, and then you deny him satisfaction?"
         "What are you talking about? Teased him? Aroused him? I've done no such thing!"
         "Oh, but you have," Enrique said. He touched himself obscenely. "What do you think
caused this?"
 "For shame, Constance," Robert chided. "Look what you've done! I think Enrique
deserves an apology."
         "This is absurd! Rob, please! I was in here by myself, he came in, he grabbed me --"
         He waved again, dismissingly. "That doesn't matter, sister dear. What matters is, you've
brought our guest to a point of distraction, and he must be satisfied. Isn't that so, Enrique?"
         "What do you mean? What satisfaction?" She hugged herself and inched backwards on
the table, confused, frightened. Why was Rob acting as if this was her fault? Couldn't he see that
Enrique was to blame? What was the matter with him?
         "Will her mouth suffice?" Robert asked Enrique.
         Enrique grinned. "I'm sure it will!"
         "What?" She looked pleadingly at her brother. "Rob, please, what's going on?"
         "Simply put, little sister, Enrique is going to put his cock in your mouth."
         "What?!?" She nearly fell off the table. "Never!"
         "It is your duty. He is our guest, and as hostess, you must do everything within your power
to make him feel comfortable."
         "Never! Not that! I'll tell Father, Rob, I swear I will!"
         "She could do that," Enrique said. "Your father might be angry."
         "You're right." Robert scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Wait, I know. She won't tell
Father a thing."
         "Yes I will!" Constance said.
         "Yes she will," Enrique echoed.
         "Not if she enjoys herself," Rob said. "Not if she likes it. Then her own shame will assure
her silence."
         "Interesting," Enrique said. "I think you're right."
         "Pigs!" Constance spat. "Enjoy myself? You must be mad!"
         "On the contrary." Rob seized her ankles and pulled. The sudden motion made her fall
heavily onto her back. He threw her skirt all the way to her waist. His hands clamped down on her
soft thighs. "Now, here is what will be done. Enrique will kneel on the table and present his cock to
you. You, my sweet little sister, will take it into your mouth. You will lick it and suck on it until he
spends, and you'll swallow every drop. Do you understand?"
         "Let me go! I'll scream!"
         "Who will hear you? The servants are away. Behave yourself, Constance, you're
embarrassing our family."
         Enrique lowered his trousers. Constance snapped her eyes shut and turned her head
away. "You cannot make me do this! I won't! I won't do what you say!"
         "Oh, but you will," Robert said. "And I'll tell you why. Because while you're busy with
Enrique's cock, I will be licking your sweet cunny." He ripped off her linen undergarment.
         Her shriek pealed to the rafters. "Rob, no! What you suggest is incest! Horrible, horrible
         "Hmm?" he said.
         She opened her eyes and saw that both of them were staring at her nakedness. Her
plump mound was covered with fine golden hair. Her brother still held her thighs indecently wide,
his gaze fixed on the tender pink flesh.
         Enrique stood beside the table, naked from the waist down. His cock jutted straight out
from a nest of black curls, and below dangled a wrinkled pouch. It was the first time Constance
had ever seen a man down there, and even in her terror she was curious enough to look.
         "Upon my word, sister, you have grown up, haven't you?" Robert murmured. He ran his
fingers lightly over her mound.
         "Rob, no! It is incest!" she howled, determined to make him hear her.
         He laughed. "Oh, no, Constance, it isn't. What sort of a brother do you think I am? It is
only incest if I actually were to fuck you. Or if one of us were to spend. I assure you, I have no
intention of turning this into incest."
         She moaned in horror as he bent forward to kiss her inner thigh. His long blond hair
brushed against her belly and mound.
         Enrique clambered onto the table and knelt beside her head.
         "Please, no!" she begged.
         Robert raised his head and looked at her over the curved landscape of her body. "You
don't want me to lick your cunny, do you?"
         "Then suck Enrique's cock! I'll lick your cunny while you do, so the faster you satisfy him,
the less of this you'll have to endure!"
         Shuddering, she turned her head toward Enrique. His thick cock was only inches away.
He was looking down at her, a lustful grin on his face.
         "Use your hands, too," he instructed. Glancing to Robert, he asked, "Can I open her
         "By all means," Robert said, in the manner of a generous host offering the finest wine.
"Her tits are fabulous. Enjoy them!"
         Constance slowly reached up and encircled the shaft of Enrique's cock. It lurched at her
touch, eager, like a horse kept too long in a stable and ready for a gallop on a spring morning.
She jerked her hand away as if burned.
         "Oh, God, Rob, please don't make me do this!" she sobbed.
         "No one is forcing you, Constance. If you want to suck Enrique's cock, you can. I'll just do
this until you make up your mind." He bent his head to her body, his shoulders preventing her
from bringing her thighs together. His fingers parted her cunny lips and he ran his tongue along
her slit in one long, slow, firm stroke.
         Constance shrieked again, moved beyond terror at that invasive, intimate touch. Her shriek
was cut off as Enrique, impatient, thrust his swollen cock into her wide-open mouth. A meaty,
musky taste assaulted her.
         Robert's tongue moved along its slow course again, this time pausing at the top of her slit
to flick at the tiny button there, the button that Constance had sometimes touched herself when
her dreams of pirates half-woke her.
         The thought of those dreams and the memory of that sensation, coupled with Robert's
skillful acts, made heat pulse briefly in her lower belly. Her horror shot to new heights. She could
not let her body react to these hideous events!
         The only way to put an end to it was to do what Robert commanded. She began sliding
her mouth along Enrique's cock, sucking at the tip, her tongue lapping around it. He groaned and
grabbed the sides of her head, his hips rocking.
         "Damn, Robert, she's incredible!" Enrique said. One hand still fisted in her golden hair, he
sent the other to rip at her bodice. The tight fabric gave way, freeing her rosy breasts.
         "Enjoying yourself, Constance?" Robert asked, briefly looking up from his task.
         As well as she could with her mouth stuffed full of cock, Constance shook her head. To
speed Enrique along, she began stroking his shaft in counterpoint to the movements of her
mouth. Several times, he pushed so hard that the tip of his cock nudged the back of her throat,
nearly making her gag.
         Robert lowered his head again. His long, slim fingers, artist's fingers, his tutor had always
said, probed gently along her cunny lips. He pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against her button
and circled it. Then he lapped along her cunny in rapid strokes while his fingers spread and
released her lips, spread and released.
         "She's slowing, Robert," Enrique commented. "I think she doesn't want it to be over."
         Fresh horror and shame crashed over her. She realized it was true, she had been sucking
more leisurely! The forbidden sensations Robert's hands and mouth were evoking had distracted
         "Why, Constance," Robert said, pausing. "Is that true?"
         She shook her head again, then sucked frantically, rubbing Enrique's cock with both
hands. Hot tears leaking from her tightly-closed eyes.
         Enrique gasped for breath. He touched her breasts, roughly squeezing, rubbing his
thumbs over her nipples. Again and again his cock bumped the back of her throat. She fought
against gagging. A new taste was seeping into her mouth, salty, like the tears that trickled down
her cheeks.
         "I won't last much longer!" Enrique said.
         Robert fastened his mouth to her cunny. His tongue slid partway into her virginal opening.
His fingers worked her button.
         A sudden low moan escaped her. Robert immediately stopped.
         "Constance! You are enjoying this!"
         Pulling away from Enrique, leaving his cock stiff and indignant above her, Constance
cried, "No!"
         "Sweet sister," Robert said, his fingers moving persuasively over her damp, slick cunny, "I
have been with dozens of women. Hundreds. And I think I know when a woman likes it."
         "No! Stop! Please!"
         "I can taste your excitement," he said.
         She wailed in anguish.
         "Now, look," he continued. "Poor Enrique is ready to burst. Why don't you finish what you
started? As soon as you're done, I'll quit what I'm doing."
         Shaking in humiliation and confused arousal, she seized Enrique's cock and engulfed it
again, as far as she could. Instead of gagging and pulling away, she tried to suck it deeper,
opening her throat.
         "Oh!" Enrique shouted. "Oh, yes, that's the way! Do it, take it all!" His hands plundered her
breasts, pinching the nipples, greedy, painful. "Yes! I'm going to spend!"
         "Swallow it," Robert said. "Every drop."
         Enrique's cock began spasming. Hot fluid, salty like seawater yet thicker, suddenly
flooded her mouth. Mindful of Robert's command, she swallowed the strong-tasting stuff as best
she could. It seemed to go on forever, and all the while Robert kept at her, not letting up until
Enrique, exhausted, withdrew his softening cock from her mouth.
         "Well, now," Robert said, standing up. "That is a much better way to treat guests,
especially when you've teased them into arousal."
         Enrique nodded. "Much better."
         "But now you have another problem, dear Constance. You've aroused me."
         She looked up at him, eyes wide.
         "I'd be happy to trade places," Enrique said. "You must try her mouth. It is fantastic."
         Constance didn't know which frightened her more, the thought of having her own brother's
cock filling her mouth, or the thought of Enrique's wide, moist tongue. To her everlasting shame,
she knew she would not be able to keep from responding if her fevered cunny was touched much
more. She lay unable to move, her legs still splayed, the ruins of her dress bunched around her
midsection, staring at her brother.
         "I have a better idea," Robert said. Still standing between her legs, he undid his belt and
began removing his trousers. His cock, when it sprang free, was longer than Enrique's though not
as thick, the flesh pale, the thatch of hair a deep gold.
         "Sangre de Christo, Robert, are you really going to fuck her?" Enrique asked, eyes
bulging excitedly.
         "No!" Constance shrieked.
         Robert gave them both a disgusted look. "What sort of brother do you think I am? That
would be incest! No, I just plan to rub my cock along her cunny for a while. I'd never think of
putting it in her."
         Constance tried to roll onto her side, the first step in escaping, although she didn't know
how far her weak legs would carry her. It was a moot point, for Robert caught her knees even as
she started to move. He pushed her down again and got on the table, kneeling between her legs.
         Despite her shame and horror, her body was afire. She could not give in, so she
scratched-slapped-clawed at him.
         "Hold her wrists," he ordered.
         Enrique hastened to comply, once again pinning Constance's wrists above her head. She
could only moan in dread as Robert lay atop her. He shifted around until the long, stiff column of
his cock was resting in the moist furrow between her legs.
         He was face to face with her. Although his actions had made him a stranger, she still saw
her brother, their features so much alike, only his lustful expression unfamiliar.
         The heavy pressure of his cock against her button was unbearable.
         "Please, Rob, don't," she whispered.
         A grin twisted his lips and he began rocking his hips, causing his cock to slide back and
forth along her cunny lips. The pressure on her button waxed and waned rhythmically.
         "Do you like that, Constance? Do you like having my naked cock rubbing you? Your little
cunny burns, doesn't it?"
         "Stop it!" she sobbed.
         "You liked my tongue, but you like my cock even more, don't you?" His hand covered her
breast possessively. "I can feel how fast your heart beats. I can feel your breath, so fast! So
         "Yes! Tell me, Constance, how many village lads have you fucked?"
         "None!" Her tears were flowing freely now. "I've never!"
         He kept up his slow, purposeful movements. His own breath was coming faster, but his
voice stayed even. "Never let them fuck you? Never had a man's cock stuck in you? Never even
sucked them, or let them at your tits?"
         "You probably thought you'd never like such a thing, didn't you? But you do! You like it.
You love it! You want more!"
         "No! Rob, please!"
         "How does it feel, Constance? You're wetter than ever. That's your body's way of telling
you that you like it. Don't you?"
         She couldn't speak, just wept bitterly.
         "Your hips are moving," he murmured. "Moving to mate your cunny to my cock. For
shame, little sister! Enjoying your brother's cock!"
         Her hips were moving! Against her will, against her volition. She held still, not even daring
to breathe.
         "Why, Constance, what a little slut you are! You were going to spend, weren't you? Spend
and make this harmless game into foul incest!"
         "Please stop," she begged through helpless tears.
         "Is that what you want, Constance? You want me to -- stop?" And on the word, he did. He
stopped his movements and just lay against her, the length of his cock throbbing along her cunny
         She held her body tense, motionless.
         "You wanted me to stop," he whispered in her ear. "Were you wrong? Were you lying?
Don't you want to lift your hips to me again?"
         She bit her lip until she tasted blood.
         "Do you know what I think, sister? I think just a few more strokes would bring you to the
edge. You'd spend. Spend like a common slut, but not even a common slut would spend on her
brother's own cock."
         She turned her head to the side. Tried to ignore his sly, persuasive voice.
         "Your hips are moving again," he said. "Your cunny quivers like a lute string."
         He spoke true! Even as she tried to ignore him, her treacherous body had betrayed her
and acted on its own. And even as she tried to stop it, a new and overpowering sensation
overtook her.
         "You are spending, Constance!" Robert cried. He moved against her again, fast and slick,
each motion hastening the incredible spasms that wracked her body.
         A long wordless wail emerged from her throat. It dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs.
         "Tsk, tsk, tsk," Robert said. "You've made this into incest. Since you've spent, I might as
well too. And since we're both spending, I might as well fuck you!"
         Her tear-soaked eyes flew open but it was too late. A shift, a thrust, and his cock plunged
into her cunny. Its passage aided by the wetness her body had produced, it tore through her
maidenhead and buried itself fully within her.
         Before she had time to adjust to that intrusion and splitting feeling of fullness, Robert
began to fuck her vigorously, slamming in and out, their bellies slapping together. His hands
gripped her hips and raised her lower body off the table.
         "Put her hands on my ass," he commanded through gritted teeth.
         Enrique moved her arms and forced her palms flat on her brother's taut buttocks.
         "Now, Constance! How do you like it? I'm about to spend in you, sister-slut!"
         Terribly, his pounding thrusts were spurring her body on to even greater heights. Another
series of spasms shook her. She screamed and raised her legs, giving him greater access. He
hoisted her calves to his shoulders and battered against her, tendons standing out in his neck and
jaw, his face now totally that of a stranger.
         He tensed against her, his back a bow, and she felt him spurt against her deliciously
abused insides. Still he kept thrusting, his fluid overflowing her cunny. At last, he collapsed atop
         "I'm ready again, Robert," Enrique said. "Let me have her?"
         Robert grinned. "Sorry, old friend. I'm keeping this one all to myself!"
         "Whuh -- what do you mean?" Constance managed.
         "Oh, sweet little sister, you're all mine until Father returns! I've never enjoyed being at
home more!"

To be continued ...

Copyright 1996 Christine Morgan