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  1. Lady May'
  2. Lady Catherine's Fall
  3. Tricked by the Lady Georgiana
  4. Lady Rochester Ravished

Lady Rochester Ravished

Categories Fiction, Male / Female, Reluctance, Romance

Author: abroadsword

Published: 17 August 2019

  • Font:

Lady Rochester - Ravished

I had been in South America for a bit making a few quid doing a bit of surveying like, but I got homesick and when I heard of this estate and mansion up for grabs at a knock down price I couldn’t resist.

Time to put me feet up an enjoy some peace and quiet or so I thought. Trouble was I didn’t have time to become settled in me new place before the visitors started arriving. Just to make our acquaintance or so they said. They knew I were a widower and me lad were not wed. That was the attraction.

My son Bob was a fine strapping lad, good at book learning but a fine engineer too like me self I like to believe. He had me missus looks not mine, lucky lad.

Lady Rochester and her daughter came one Thursday, completely unannounced. “Oh I do believe your gardens are magnificent this time of year,” Lady Rochester explained.

“Not any more,” I said, “They had twenty gardeners, I sacked the bloody lot on em, lazy bastards.”

“Oh you are a plain speaking gentleman,” Lady Rochested simpered.

“Bloody has to be to survive in Gateshead,” I agreed, “Anyroad round, Why are you here?”

“We thought the gardens,” she repeated lamely.

“Bugger the gardens,” I surmised, “Thee was looking to marry the wench off to me lad wasn’t thee?”

The older woman looked shocked, the younger one simply blushed.

“No secret we got brass,” I agreed, “And from what I hear you lot’s on your uppers, hardly a pair of Gold Chandeliers between the the lot of you.” I were guessing, I didn’t know em from Adam.

Lady Rochester coughed, “Er well we do have a slight.”

“My idiot brother keeps gambling,” Miss Rochester explained, “Unless I marry well we will all be in the workhouse Mr Stephenson.”

“Well said lass, I likes thee,” I confessed, “No shilly shallying, calls a spade a bloody shovel, I’ll call our Robert and you can have a chin wag.”

I went out on the porch and bellowed, “Bob, Bob!” at the top of me voice. I last saw him on the steam mower mowing the lawn. He could more in an hour than twenty lazy bastards could do in a day.

He were down by lake, Steam mower were parked up simmering and he were in the lake with the water up to his waist, bare chested like..

“What you doing,” I shouted down to him.

“Summat blocked the bloody sluice gate,” He said, “Bloody lake’s overflowing again.”

“Well leave it there’s a wench here want’s to marry thee,” I insisted.

“Well she’s lying, it’s not mine,” he shouted back.

Lady and Miss Rochester were behind me though I didn’t know it.

“No lad thee don’t understand,” I shouted.

“Agghh, that’s got it,” He shouted and the water started gurgling and surging. He started for the bank and we could see he were in his underwear, and it had gone see through like leaving nowt to the imagination.

Miss Rochester bushed again. Robert wasn’t in the least put out, He grabbed his pile of clothes, tucked them under his arm and headed for the house.

“I never fucked her, the kid ‘ent mine and I’ll not marry her,” he insisted and then he saw the ladies.

“Oh, I thought you meant a village wench.”

“No,” I explained, “Lady Rochester were passing and wanted a look at gardens with a view to marrying off her daughter.”

“Ah, right, pleased to meet thee,” he said and went to shake their hands, forgetting his own hands were filthy. Lady Rochester shied away but Miss Rochester’s eyes were fixed on Robert’s crotch.

He looked at he, a vision of loveliness in her crinolines, her mousy hair shinig blond in the sunlight, her crisp white over skirt shining like the gowns of an angel.

“Clearly!” Lady Rochester gasped as Robert’s member stood up like a tent pole stretching his under wear to the limit.

“Oops, sorry,” Robert apologised.

“Don’t have time for wenching our Bob, he’s wedded to steam engines,” I explained, “Steam mower, steam machine for clothes washing, all sorts of gadgets.”

Robert stood there like a lummox tongue hanging out.

“What’s up lad, cat got your tongue?” I asked.

“Yes, yes I’ll marry her,” he agreed.

“Don’t be a wazzock, thee hasn’t said a word to the wench,” I sighed “Come on back inside lets have a chinwag.

“As long as she’s pure and not in family way I’ll marry her,” he added. He were besotted but he still weren’t no fool.

“Mr Stephenson my daughter’s innocence is not something to be impugned.” Lady Rochester insisted.

“Well thee wanted an offer and the lad made a fair one,” I replied.

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” she retorted, “What do you want, written confirmation from a physician?”

“Them lying bastards, not likely,” I replied, “We wants to see for us selves.”

“Mr Stephenson!” Lady Rochester gasped.

“Won’t take a mo, lift thee skirts lass and let’s have a look see.” I suggested.

“Mama,” the girl questioned.

“No, the very idea,” Lady Rochester snapped.

I’d had a gutsfull, I summoned me butler. “Oi Cartsairs, get your lazy fat arse in here pronto,”

“You hollered sir?” he replied.

“Give our Bob a hand to spread wench’s legs so we can see if she’s pure,” I commanded.

“Indeed sir,” he replied and the daft bugger grabbed Lady Rochester and started to push her to the ground.

“Not the old trout the kid,” I shouted, “Bugger me what do you use for brains?”

“How dare you!” Lady Rochester snarled, her breasts heaving and her face red with anger.

Next thing Carstairs had Miss Rochester lofted and neatly laid on the chaise longue, that's like a posh settee thing.

“Ohhh the indignity,” she protested, but her eyes were rivetted on our Bob’s cock.

Like most folk back then she never wore no knickers, well they can’t pull em up with all them layers of skirts and that so it were pretty easy to take a look see and check her peach.

Our Bob pulled her skirts up and peered at her quim. Daft sod hadn’t a clue what he were looking for, so I had to peel her lips gently apart for a look see.

“Mr Stephenson, please!” Lady Rochester protested.

“Ah there it is our Bob,” I said, “One hymen, she’s pure lad.”

“Can I fuck her dad?” Bob asked, “Only me cock feels like it will burst.”

“Might as well lad,” I agreed.

“Mr Stephenson.” Lady Rocester appealed.

“Wait your turn!” I joked and Carstairs helpfully lifted Miss Rochester’s legs right up so her feet were beside her ears so Bob could get at her.

He gently eased the end of his cock against her soft pink quim. “Don’t fart about give it some welly,”

I said.

He thrusted and slipped off, bloody near buggered her by accident. He tried again, and again. “Guide his cock in lass or we’ll be here all night,” I suggested.

She tried to guide hs cock but that failed.

“Stick a couple of fingers up and ease her a bit,” I suggested.

“Worse than fitting piston rings in steam washing engine,” he observed but he stuck his thumb deep in poor Miss Rochester’s parts making her squeal.

“Ohhhh!” she gasped.

“And again, try the big un,” I counselled suggesting he tried his cock again.

He tried again, and with Miss Rochester guiding him he somehow inelegantly mounted her. His pink ass wobbling it reminded me of a Boar Pig rutting with a sow.

“Right lets give the young ‘uns some space,” I suggested, “Thee ‘en t offering no dowry obviously so we’ll get local vicar to tie knot on cheap after service three weeks next Sunday.”

“Mr Stephenson, my daughter is a lady of breeding and deserves the finest nuptials,” Lady Rochester protested.

“Then her father can bloody pay,” I insisted.

“He’s dead you fool,” she replied, “Dead this ten years, my useless spendthrift son is Lord now and between you and I I do believe he is bankrupt.”

“You poor cow,” I commiserated.

“We could be cast out on the street,” she said.

“No no husband, no nookie for ten years,” I surmised.

“No, indeed, if you must be so crude,” she snapped.

“So them tits an’t had no lips on em for ten year?” I queried.

“Longer than that, Gerald preferred serving wenches,” she admitted.

“So why didn’t thee dress like one,” I asked, “My Sandy used to dress like a Princess sometimes when I were tired and her fancied a portion.”

“Sandy?” she queried.

“Alexandra my dear wife, her expired carrying our Bob.” I explained, “But that’s a crying shame letting a rack like that waste away, you want to let them puppies out for a run every now and again.”

“Mr Stephenson, I must protest!” Lady Rochester protested.

“Ah shut your rattle woman,” I said, “You know you want me lips wrapped round your nips sucking away till your juices flows and I rams me meat deep up your cunt!”

I grasped the front of her gown and forced it apart allowing her magnificent tits to spill out. I knelt before her and kneaded her left tit with me mouth sucking on her right nip.

She gasped, she didn’t know whether to scream, or hit me away or just enjoy the moment.

She gasped.

I took me pen knife from me pocket and slipped it down the back of her gown. The thin fabric parted easily as the razor sharp blade went downwards.

“What are you doing?” she asked un necessarily as I hacked through the cords on her corset releasing the constriction.

“No we mustn’t,” she gasped.

I dropped me breeches and pulled her ruined gown towards me baring her upper body.

“Thee knows thee want’s to,” I said reassuringly.

“No!” she protested but her resolve were waning with every suck upon her nips. “Oh very well if you must but quickly then, before anyone sees.”

I didn’t need no second bidding. In a trice i had her sat on the edge of an armchair’s seat with her legs spread, her ruined gown round her ankles. I stood before her ready to drive my member firmly into her moistened waiting cunt,

Her moistened lips opened like the petals of an exotic flower on a summers morn as she grasped my member and guided it within her.

It eased in so soft and smooth like pulling on an old glove, nice and not too tight but a good fit, comfortable and then she grasped me buttocks and pulled me against her.

“Do it!” she urged.

I guessed she wanted a good creaming and I was ready to explode so I gave her what she wanted, me pent up spunk gushed out making her gasp with pleasure. “Ooooooh” she sighed.

“Thee needed that badly didn’t thee lass,” I observed, “It’s not right passionate woman like thee going without.”

“No,” she said, “Oh lord why did I let you do that.” she asked as I climbed off her.

“Thee’s a woman and weak, thee body rules thee mind,” I explained.

“And you?” she asked, “I suppose your member rules your mind?”

“Well I don’t ravish everything on two legs like some blokes,” I admitted, “Cook does me a service every now an again, but she’s barren like thee.”

“I most certainly am not barren Mr Stephenson!” she snapped as she struggled to pull her ruined gown around her.

“Oh bugger me, I thought!” I gasped.

“Well think again sir,” she demanded, “Have you a seamstress of anyone who can help with this?” she asked as she regarded her gown with desperation.

“I’ll have me housekeeper have a look,” I offered, and I bellowed “Carstairs, find Lady whatsit a smock or summat, she tore her dress!”

Carstairs must have been watching us as he answered immediately, “Certainly Sir.”

He plodded away. I looked at Lady Rochester, “I don’t know what come over me,” I admitted, “I don’t make habit of ravishing the nobility.”

“You obviously mistook me for a member of the lower orders then,” she suggested.

“Nor in middle of the day,” I confessed, “But by heck that were best fumble I had in ages.”

Carstairs returned with a crisply laundered servant’s smock, grey with no buttons or laces it simply went over her head.

Lady Rochester slipped it over her head and allowed her gown to fall to the floor. Her looked daft as the smock only came just below her knees and the underskirts came to her ankles.

“Thee looks bloody daft, slip thee underskirts off,” I suggested.

“Only if you promise not to ravish me again,” she agreed as she eased her underskirt off.

“Better not make promises I can’t keep,” I replied, and added, “Bugger off Carstairs.”

She looked quite comely in a smock, womanly not false.

“Er that was the best, well the only, fumble as you call it, I have had in years,” she admitted, “Oh what have we done?”

That’s when Bob and Miss Rochester turned up. Her was blushing crimson, he looked proud as punch.

“Mama, what happened.” Miss Rochester asked.

“Her fell in pond,” I said as her said, “I spilled my drink.”

“Likely story,” Bob said knowingly, “You didn’t waste much time.”

“We had a connection,” I explained.

“That’s one name for it,” Bob agreed.

“No Lad, we have like a shared,” I grasped for the right word.

“He tried to ravish me and for my sins I did not resist,” Lady Rochester admitted.

“Oh Mama, was it lovely like Bob and I?” she asked naively.

“Yes darling, it was lovely, if a tiny bit uncomfortable as we used an armchair.” Lady Rochester admitted.

“Ah well we’ll use the big bed in master bedroom next time,” I agreed, “And maybe stables the time after.”

Lady Rochester smiled shyly.

“You randy old sod,” Bob laughed

“Yes well I ain’t dead yet,” I challenged.

“No there is plenty of life left in him, I can attest to that.” Lady Rochester admitted.

Bob and Miss R went off somewhere and we was alone again.

“Can I kiss thee?” I asked.

“I am surprised you ask, you ravished me without permission,” she retorted.

“Well just trying to be polite,” I replied.

“In that case you may,” she agreed, “Does the forgoing mean we are to be engaged to be married?”

“Bugger engaged I reckon we should just tell folk we’re wed, like common folk do,” I suggested.

“Yes, it might be awkward,” she agreed, “But perhaps just a quiet wedding in the chapel in the village?”

“Fair enough,” I agreed, “Three weeks for Banns so does three weeks this Sunday suit thee?”

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