Case Book of Magistrate Darcy II
A year later…
I woke up with a start.
Blinking my eyes several times, I turned my head to glance through the windows. Thick clouds hung in the sky, allowing little moonlight to shine in and plunging the room into darkness.
Where was I?
I moved to sit up. That was when I felt my hands and legs restrained. How could that have happened? I pulled hard, but could not set myself free.
Fear surged in my bosom.
Where was I? I thought hard. The chamber looked vaguely familiar.
Finally, wit came to my thick head.
I was in Netherfield!
But who had played such a trick and tied me to the bed?
As if my thought conjectured up the person, the servant door cracked open with an eerie sound. The shadow of a tall man loomed, cast by the candlelight in the corridor. The man crept stealthily into the room.
“Who is there?” I demanded, in a breathless voice. Fear turned to panic.
“Ah, the prisoner has awoken!”
“Mr. Darcy!” I cried out. Panic turned into anger. I pressed my lips tight. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Magistrate Darcy to you, Elizabeth!” He said in an arrogant voice, stepping near to the bed.
The fog of sleepiness lifted from my head. My indignation rose. “I repeat, what is the meaning of this?”
“Madam, you are accused of a grave crime and now under house arrest, pending my interrogation.”
“In the middle of the night?” I arched my eyebrows and pulled at the restrains on my hands.
“The gravity of the matter requires such urgent manner of inquiry.” Outside, the wind blew for a moment, clearing the clouds for me to see that he was dressed most improperly. His upper body was bare. He wore nothing but his trousers. He folded his arm across his chest. That was when I saw a riding crop in his hand.
“I question the impropriety of your attire and the implement you hold, Magistrate!” I pulled the ties to my legs this time. “I demand to be released, immediately.”
Mr. Darcy walked closer to the bed. Using the tip of the riding crop, he traced it along my left leg, from the ankle to the thigh. Under the thin fabric of my nightgown, I shuddered. A trembling sensation cruised to the apex of my legs. Heat rose in my face, spreading down my neck to my chest. I spied that his eyes focused on my body.
“I protest …” My complaint was cut short as he leaned forward and used the hard rod of the whip to caress my sex. Drawing in a few quick breathes, I tried to gather my wits to continue my protest. But it was all in vain.
Mr. Darcy was an expert horseman who knew how to use his riding crop well. With deliberately slow motions, he slid it across my secret lips, rubbing them slowly. Wetness pooled at my apex. A glottal moan escaped my mouth and my hips moved uncontrollably on the bed.
“Now, prisoner, do you confess to your crime?” His voice was thick and husky.
I was an honest gentlewoman my whole life. Magistrate Darcy would not make me confess to something I had not done, even though he was punishing me with such a tortuous act.
I bit my lips and retorted abruptly, “What crime is it? I cannot confess to any crime I have not committed. I accuse you instead, Magistrate, for using illegal interrogation methods!”
“Such impertinence!” Mr. Darcy moved the riding crop up, along my abdomen, to my breasts. Again using the hard shaft of the implement, he brushed my nipples roughly. I gasped and jerked my body up and down. His ministration created havoc within my body. I wanted to break free from the restraints and grab the evil black rod from his hand.
But I was in vain.
The jostling of my body did not give me freedom; instead, it brought only pain and strange sensations inside me. It also made my nightgown part open, allowing the horrible Mr. Darcy to stare at my semi naked form. He licked his lips and drew in a loud breath. I could see a bulge emerging at the front of his trousers.
“You are accused of stealing an important thing from me.”
“From you?” I repeated, in a higher pitch. Emotion was running high and I was not sure if I had full control of my own self. “As you are the victim, it is not right for you to trial this case and interrogate me!”
“Madam, you are a smooth operator. I shall not allow any other inexperienced investigator or magistrate to let you get away from the rightful punishment.”
“I declare an injustice, Magistrate Darcy. You must release me or hand me over to another …”
“You want another man?” His voice trembled. “I shall never allow it.” He dropped the whip, sat heavily on the bed by my side, grabbed the front lapel of the nightgown and tore it completely off my body.
I gasped loudly.
With similar violent impatience, he stood and pulled off his trousers, releasing his raging arousal to my widening eyes. I swallowed as I stared at the glorious form in front of me. The strong muscles of his shoulders, torso and thighs throbbed, and his proud manhood sent a shiver down my spine.
“Did you still want another man to handle you?” He gritted out the words.
I should have been fearful of this Mr. Darcy, with such intensity and passion, but my courage always rose in the face of challenges. I squared my chin and said, “It is only fair that another man …”
Again he did not let me finish my sentence. Instead, he lowered his huge body on top of me and captured my mouth with a violent kiss.
His lips were hot and demanding. His tongue pried open mine and thrust into my mouth, exploring the inner muscles and duelling with my tongue.
Coupled with the heavy weight of his body, and the chiselled plains and valleys of his masculine form, pressing and rubbing against me, I felt faint and breathless, and yet every inch of my skin was alerted.
When he sensed my numbness, he released my mouth and moved downward, tracing wet kisses along my cheeks, jaw, neck, shoulders and breasts. I panted loudly as he became frantic again, this time worshiping my left nipple from different angles with his mouth, while his hand pulled the other to rock hardness.
I jerked my body up again, pushing my breasts to him. He licked and twirled the nipple for a long while. I wished I could grab his hair, either to push him away or press him closer to me. I did not know which.
But, my hands were tied; my body on fire.
When he started suckling my nipples like a hungry babe, shaping and jutting out my breasts to his ministration, I cried out loud, in utterly senseless words.
The apex of my sex, where his flaming body was rubbing, was flooded with my own juice. Finally, with a loud scream, I felt dead to the world, like my body had flown to the sky.
The merciless Magistrate Darcy did not stop his torture. He lowered his mouth further down my body, while his hand continued to knead my breasts. His hot and wet tongue drew a haphazard picture on my abdomen.
When his tongue brushed the hair on my apex, I startled back to high alert again.
I raised my body from the bed, trying to dislodge his mouth from kissing me down there, but the restraints on my hands and legs did not allow me full movement. His weight also gave him more control. I lay there with my legs wide open while he took advantage of the clearing clouds and the bright moonlight shining through the windows to gaze at my sex.
Heat flooded my entire body. My protected upbringing told me it was not right to be looked at by a man in this way. The protest on my lips fell on deaf ears as Mr. Darcy nipped at my nub with his mouth.
I jerked at the sensation.
He used one hand now to hold my hip, while another hand moved to push my secret lips wider. His long strong tongue thrust into my entrance.
I screamed out and drew up my legs, trying to press them together, but the restraints prevented that. Instead, my movement served to press his head tighter between my thighs. My toes curled as he thrust his tongue deeper, and kissed my sex continuously.
I could not stop the loud screams. I panted and cried out more. When I darted my eyes to look at my sex for a moment, his dark eyes were staring at me, with a wild intense look that stopped my heart.
He thrust his tongue into me again and again. I shuddered and reached my peak for the second time.
I was sure I could not be revived again, for I felt I had burst into flame. But I was proved wrong, almost immediately. Mr. Darcy raised his strong body and climbed on top of me. He then pushed his huge arousal into my entrance, slowly, inch by inch.
He was so incredibly hard and big. I felt I could not accommodate him. I moaned again. He sensed the tightness and my worries, and caressed my breasts with tender hands. He lowered his mouth to kiss me softly, his gentleness taking my mind off his invading manhood. The sensation on my mouth and breasts sent thrills around my body.
Suddenly, I felt my hands freed. Instead of pushing Mr. Darcy off, I pressed his head to my breasts tightly with one hand, intending to savour his closeness, while rubbing the other hand along his back to feel his strong muscles.
My movements sent him over the edge. He shivered for a second and then quickened his thrusts. Like a mad man possessed, Mr. Darcy jammed into my body with force, then withdrew almost to the edge, quickly, before pounding into me again. His shaft inflamed my inner core; his wild and rough thrusting grazed every inch of my skin. The heat spread from my apex down my legs and up to my breasts. I arched my body in rhyme with his mad pounding. I felt that we were one body when he filled me to the hilt. When he pulled away from me, I swayed my hips up in hot pursuit of him. I smelt his woody scent and palmed the sweat on his back. I moaned and groaned with him, until the tip of his manhood finally sent a boiling sensation through my body. I shuddered as the burning heat and the needling sensation burst up to my head. I saw stars, thousands of them, blinding my eyes with brightness.
I reached the sun.
I was melting.
The world was disappearing around me, except for the strong man in my arms. My mind was void, not capable of any thoughts for some while.
Then I felt again. I found Mr. Darcy trembling on top of me.
I could hear again. He let out a cry, like the howl of an almighty lion that seemed to echo in the wilderness.
I could feel again. His hot seed filled my core. My inner muscles tightened as he throbbed and pulsed inside me.
I squeezed as he gave, until he collapsed on top of me and I lay limp, once again.
I drifted off to sleep.
The next time I blinked open my eyes, I found myself lying on top of Mr. Darcy. My hands and legs were free.
“My prisoner, how did you find the punishment?”
I raised my head and looked at him. He had a smug smile. His eyes tinkled with brightness.
“What are you accusing me of stealing, Magistrate Darcy?”
“My heart, Mrs. Darcy.”
“That is a crime very grave indeed. Perhaps my punishment was a little too light.” I brushed my hands along his chest and arched my eyebrows suggestively.
“Hmm, perhaps the riding crop should be made better use of.”
I lifted my body and climbed off the bed quickly, and dived for the riding crop. Then I stood eyeing the handsome creature on the bed, with my hands brushing along the whip, considering which part of his body I could exact revenge upon.
Mr. Darcy’s lips curled up. The infuriating dimples appeared on his cheek.
“Now, sir, you are destined for punishment.”
“I get to admire your glorious form. I think it is no punishment.”
I stopped my hand as I realised I stood in front of him without an inch of clothing. The moonlight shone brighter from outside, giving me no protection at all. I cried out annoyingly, and bent down to pick up the clothes on the floor, hoping to cover my body from my husband’s hungry eyes.
As I turned my body, he howled loudly and jumped from the bed. Lifting me by the waist, he easily removed the whip from my hand and threw it across the room.
I protested and kicked him. “Trickster!”
“You are the one wishing for more punishment!” He laughed as he bent me over the table by the windows. His hands pressed mine on the edge of the table. Our eyes met in the mirror. His face turned serious in the next moment and his eyes darkened. Then he moved his hand and spanked my buttock.
I gasped, loudly.
After two playful strokes, Mr. Darcy grabbed my thighs with his hands and pushed his hard manhood into my entrance from behind.
I screamed, completely unprepared for his sudden invasion. He thrust hard and deep, reaching my hilt with some immediacy, and lifting my feet off the floor. How could he get hard so fast? The angle of his attack gave me indescribable pleasure.
With his strong hands holding my thighs, Mr. Darcy pulled his hot shaft almost out and then pushed right in again; fast, furious, and hard. I stared at the pulsing of his torso through the mirror, the moving of his hard rod, plunging in and out of my entrance from behind. I could see every muscle on both our bodies, convulsing with his mad and masterful thrusts, my body hung up with my legs supported by his hands, almost wrapping his waist in a backward fashion.
This position turned him wild. He was insatiable, pounding into me from behind for minutes that seemed like hours. I reached my peak twice before he pulled out from my entrance. I felt a sense of loss, but he turned me over quickly and laid me back upon the table. Raising my legs to rest on his shoulders, he immediately rammed into me again.
I gazed at his fierce countenance as he continued to thrust into me. His hands took possession of my creamy mounds, squeezing my breasts and pulling at my nipples.
My throat was dry and my voice cracked. I turned my head to one side and captured myself in the mirror. My eyes were red, my lips swollen and my hair tangled. His big strong hands were dark and hard, contrasting with my white soft breasts. My nipples stood like two pebbles in red. The muscle on my abdomen trembled, in rhyme with Mr. Darcy’s pounding. My legs rested on his chiselled shoulders, with my toes stretched straight. My sex merged with his magnificent shaft.
Our moans, the smashing sound of our bodies, and the squeaking of the table filled the chamber, until, with another loud scream, I reached my climax again!
I was lost to the world for some hours. When I awoke the third time, morning sun filled the room. I was once again lying on top of my handsome husband.
“A belated St. Valentine’s Day, my loveliest Elizabeth! Sorry I am late, by two days.”
I brushed my hands over the stubble on his face. He had been detained by a case in London and asked me to come to Netherfield first, promising he would arrive by St. Valentine’s Day. He bought the estate for me a year ago, so we could visit my parents at Longbourn with the comfort and privacy we wished.
“No letter full of words of four syllables from you?” I winked at him. “I think it is customary to exchange love letters during St. Valentine’s Day. I am not sure if our activities fit the celebration. Do you prefer whip over pen now?”
“Who cares about tradition, my dearest!” he smiled. “We can echo our love and romance any day, any way! And whip certainly has more fun than pen!” With those playful words, he raised his mouth and kissed me again. We arrived at Longbourn incredibly late, much to my mother’s despair.