The Ravishing of Constance

The long days of the next week blurred into a sameness for Constance. She fell into a melancholy of the spirit, losing interest in reading and painting and all the other activities that had delighted her only a short while before.

She slept late, and frequently napped her way through much of the afternoon, and the rest of the time was passed in absently wandering the garden or just sitting, sitting on her balcony and staring out at the distant line of the horizon.

Nana Eva finally became concerned enough to remark on it, but attributed Constance’s listlessness to the weather, which remained wretchedly hot and still. Never once did she hint at suspecting anything different. Neither did any of the rest of the servants, and when Rob granted them another night’s holiday they adored him for his generosity.

Constance knew his plan from the moment he made that so gracious-seeming announcement, and wanted to scream out the evil truth. But her shame kept her silent, just as Rob wanted, until it was far too late. By the time she’d mustered the courage to confess, it had been going on for so long that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. How could she tell anyone, when it had been a matter of

weeks

?

So it was that she watched the servants leave with a heavy heart, knowing what awaited her.

And yet, most repugnant of all, as the gates swung closed behind the last of them and the house was blanketed with an expectant hush, her cheeks flushed and her pulse raced with anticipation. It sickened her and filled her with self-loathing, but those were swiftly lost in the rising storm of her depraved passions.

That evening, Constance dressed with attentive care even as she hated herself for it. She descended to the dining room, the marble floor cool under her bare feet.

Rob was waiting for her, lounging in the chair at the head of the table. He swept his gaze over her approvingly.

“How luscious you look, dearest Constance! That gown I brought you is most becoming.”

She lowered her lashes, her blush darkening. The gown was unlike anything she’d ever owned before, and she had no idea in what brothel he’d found it. Of stunning blue-green silk, it was nearly transparent and swirled around her as if she were clad in sea water. Her bosom strained at the deep pearl-adorned neckline, and the slits up the sides of the skirt showed her legs to well above the knee whenever she moved.

“Yes, most becoming indeed,” Rob said. He swung his feet down from the table and stood, circling her to examine her from all angles. “Oh … lest I forget, I’ve been meaning to give you this, as well.”

Constance, expecting another gift, perhaps of jewelry, was surprised to be handed a plain flask stoppered with a cork. “What is this? Brandy?”

“Nothing quite so palatable, I’m afraid, but far more necessary. It’s a draught brewed by the island women. Drink up.”

She uncorked it, and wrinkled her nose at the bitter scent that rose from the flask. The liquid within was murky and brownish. When she dipped the tip of her tongue to it, she grimaced.

“It’s foul, Rob! What is it?”

“A tonic to prevent you conceiving,” he explained with a matter-of-fact shrug.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she stared at him. “To prevent

what

?”

“Conceiving. That would give away our little secret and spoil all our fun, now, wouldn’t it?”

Like a slap to the face, the reality of her situation hit Constance. “You can’t mean that I could … get with child?”

“Well, that’s what the tonic’s for. Even if you already are, from our previous dalliances, this will put an end to it.” He chuckled at her expression. “Don’t worry, little sister. I’ve taken care of everything. Now drink it up, and then set three places for dinner.”

“Three?”

“I’ve invited Enrique to dine with us tonight.”

“But --” She made a distraught gesture at her gown.

“For pity’s sake, Constance, he’s already seen you with more on view than that. You look as beautiful as a sea-nymph, and I want to boast of my possession.”

Reeling, unable to come to terms with the idea that she might have conceived of her brother’s seed

and

the prospect of Enrique’s company, Constance floundered for words and then gave up, fleeing to the kitchen with the flask. She heard Rob’s laughter trailing after her like ribbons.

The tonic was detestable but she quaffed it in a single gulp, then clung to a chair trembling and waiting to see if she would vomit it back up. Her innards churned horribly and her gorge rose in a series of short, sharp jerks, but in the end, everything stayed down and she was able to banish the vile aftertaste with a flagon of fruit juice.

As she was fetching plates, she heard the toll of the bell-pull, followed moments later by Rob and Enrique’s voices coming into the dining room.

“Am I to believe that?” Enrique was scoffing.

“I swear to you, it is true. Constance! Where are you, my fine whore?”

Face flaming, Constance looked yearningly to the door that gave onto the back terrace. For one wild moment she considered running for it, escaping to the village, finding Nana Eva and telling her everything. That would put a stop to the perversity …

But then, in her mind’s eye, she imagined Nana Eva asking her how long this had been going on, and why she’d said nothing before. And Rob, even if they confronted him, was so clever and charming that he could probably convince them that she had been the seducer, and he only powerless to resist.

“Constance?”

She straightened her spine and went into the dining room.

Enrique’s dark eyes widened in astonishment and appreciation. “Good God, Rob!”

“I told you.”

“What have you told him?” cried Constance.

Rob licked his lips. “Everything, sweet sister. How I found you in your room last week caressing yourself, and how you rode me like I was an untamed horse --”

She whimpered in dismay even as his words sparked flickers of lust in her.

“So it’s true,” marveled Enrique. “And she doesn’t resist?”

“Resist? My friend, she loves it, craves it, thrives upon it! Never have I known a cunny more hungry for cock! If I gave the command, she’d spread herself for me right now!”

“Dinner can wait,” Enrique said, all but salivating. “I’ve been able to think of nothing else for a fortnight!”

Constance let the plates fall with a clatter of crockery. “Rob … no, not with him here, not with him watching!”

“He’s seen it before,” Rob said again. “I want to show him what an eager little slut you’ve become. But we can at least have dinner first.”

Enrique grumbled in disappointment, but went to his seat. His eyes followed Constance as if glued to her while she set the table. Her movements were stilted and awkward, made clumsy by the knowledge that no matter which way she turned, he’d be able to see every curve through the thin cloth. Rob wore a grin that was half amusement and half pride.

As she brought in the first course, it occurred to Constance that there would be something even worse than having Enrique watch … Rob might want her to touch his friend, take him in her mouth as she’d done before! Or … or he might even let Enrique … might let him …

She vividly saw herself in Enrique’s arms, the contrast of his caramel-olive skin with her pale-peach complexion. Saw as if it was happening before her at that very moment his thick cock pushing into her cunny until his wiry black thatch was pressed to her downy gold.

No … Rob would never allow that! He was her

brother …

That argument did little to ease her fears.

Her hands shook all through the meal, and her appetite was poor. Neither of them seemed to share her difficulties, eating hugely and downing glass after glass of the wine-and-rum cordial so popular in the village.

“Let us to the lounge,” Rob suggested.

“A wonderful idea,” said Enrique. “For the entertainment.”

A mad but not entirely unappealing notion came to Constance – when they began to rise from their chairs, she would seize the knife from the tray of meat and drive it into the nape of Enrique’s neck.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do that, to do murder!

“Please, Rob,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me!”

“Hush, sweet one. All is well.”

“I don’t want to!”

“You will … you always do.” He trailed his fingers down the crevice of her cleavage, and boldly right there in the hallway slid his hand into the gown to cup a breast.

Despite herself, Constance gasped, and let him lead her into the lounge.

Many of the rooms in the house showed their father’s English and French tastes, but the lounge was entirely furnished in an island style. The chairs and couches were low and wide, made of wicker and cushioned in bright colors and weaves.

Rob settled comfortably onto one of these couches and pulled Constance down beside him, while Enrique chose the nearest chair, leaning forward with ill-concealed predatory interest.

“So Rob’s had you how many times now?” he asked. “Just the twice, or has he been a more regular visitor to your room?”

“Just the twice,” Rob said, idly twirling a lock of Constance’s hair. “It wouldn’t do to have the servants find out, and so circumspection has had to outweigh passion. I’m toying with the thought of being rid of them entirely.”

He was so smug, so confident, so utterly assured of himself, that for one bright instant, Constance despised him more than she would have thought possible to despise any living thing. If that meat-knife had been near at hand now, she might not have hesitated to use it.

“And she rode you. Willingly.” Enrique shook his head. “Forgive me, Rob, but I have my doubts. She wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Are you calling me liar?”

“I’m only finding it hard to believe.”

“Well, then. I can’t have my integrity questioned.” Rob turned to Constance. “Tell him how it was. Tell him what you did.”

“This is cruel,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Why must you do this to me?”

“Tell him, Constance. Describe it to him. How did I find you?”

“I … I was … touching … myself,” she stammered, staring at the rug.

“And what were you thinking of?” prompted Rob insidiously. His hand was on her thigh, a searing brand through the thin cloth.

“Before,” she said. “What happened before.”

“In the parlor?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“And how good it felt?”

“Rob, why are you doing this?”

“Because I think honesty’s best, don’t you, Constance? Tell him.”

Closing her eyes, she recited it in a rush. “Touching myself, yes, thinking of what happened in the parlor, how it felt, and Rob came in, told me to continue, wanted to watch me, and so I did, I let him, I made myself spend while he watched, and then he was on the bed, under me, and all I had to do was lower myself and he’d be

in

me, and I did, I couldn’t help it, I did, and it was so good, I didn’t care anymore, had to have him in me, had to spend again, oh, it was wrong, so wrong, but nothing’s ever been better!”

“Madre de Dios,” Enrique said after a pause. “I retract my doubts. She

did

, you got her to do it! I’m awed, my friend, awed to the core!”

“Show us,” Rob said.

Constance looked up at him pleadingly. “No, please, not that!”

He slowly wadded the fabric of her gown with his fingers, making the hem slide higher and higher. It reached her knees, climbed her thighs. “Go on, Constance … I can see how aroused you are. The light in your eyes, the roses in your cheeks … not to mention the way your lovely nipples stand so proudly hard against your gown. If I put my hand on your cunny, I’d find heat, wouldn’t I?”

She turned her head, knowing it was true.

Rob smiled. He moved from the couch to stretch out on the rug, leaning on a pillow with his arms crossed behind his head. “Show us, Constance. Let us watch.”

His voice held her, and his eyes. Much as she might have wanted to flee, wanted to refuse, she knew that he had her trapped as much by the force of his own personality as by her perverse desires.

She moved until she was lying on the couch, hiking her skirt and baring the lower half of her body to their view. With one foot braced on the floor and the other thrown over the back cushion, she felt tawdry and wanton, every bit the slut and whore Rob told her she was.

But she had already sipped from this cup of damnation, and might as well drain the dregs … so thinking, she set to the task of pleasuring herself with both hands, head thrown back so that her hair dangled over the arm of the couch all the way to the floor.

Her fingers slid and rubbed with tantalizing friction. What Rob didn’t know was that each night since, she had given in to the same urge, and become most practiced at the act of gratification. This part of her that she’d all but ignored for eighteen years was now as familiar to her as any other, moreso because she had explored it with great delight and diligence even as her soul wanted to cringe in shame.

Constance heard the rustle of clothing, and in the periphery of her vision saw that both of them were following suit, freeing themselves from trousers that had become much too constrictive. Enrique’s eyes were fevered and glazed, one of his hands pumping in steady strokes along the shaft and head of his cock.

Rob toyed with himself more lazily, his amused grin still firmly in place. “Are you going to make yourself spend, little sister? Or would you prefer to fill that cunny with something more?”

Curse him, the bastard … she very nearly said those things, but such venomous words had never passed her lips, and at the moment, so close, so very close to spending, all she could do was moan.

“If it’s a fucking she needs,” Enrique said, thrashing the rest of the way out of his trousers so that he could stand, “I’ll give her one she’ll never forget!”

She

saw

it again, the vision, saw him atop her and thrusting deep inside her. This time the image was not unwelcome at all, for in her moment of crisis and need, she wanted a cock,

any

cock, to give the walls of her cunny something solid and thick to seize upon when the clenching spasms of her spending rocked through her loins.

“Not so fast, Enrique,” Rob said. “Have you forgotten? That fair cunny is mine and mine alone!"

“But --”

Constance barely heard, barely cared. All that mattered was that her climax was onrushing, and her cries of need filled the lounge. Rob pulled her from the couch onto the rug with him.

“Here I am for you, Constance. Here I am, ride me!”

“Damn it, Rob!” Enrique sputtered. “I’m dying to fuck her! It’s my turn, confound you!”

“Her cunny is

mine

, my friend!” Rob groaned aloud as Constance frantically impaled herself on his cock. “Have her mouth … I grant you that!”

Constance herself, feeling the thick slide of Rob’s stiffness against her innermost nerves, was catapulted into a madness that swept her up like a whirlwind. She lost all sense of right or wrong and groped for Enrique’s cock as he stood over Rob. She took it into her mouth, unreserved this time, lapping and sucking for all she was worth.

Enrique’s protests were cut off by a strangled cry. He adjusted his pose to brace himself, feet planted to either side of Rob’s shoulders, and steadied Constance’s head as she bobbed her lips along the length of his shaft.

“Ah, yes!” Rob said, holding tight to Constance’s hips. “Take us both, sweet sister! How does it feel? A cock in your cunny and another in your mouth, two men at once, what a fine little slut you are! And you love it, don’t you? You don’t need to speak; your body answers for you!”

She had been teetering on the edge of spending, but as Rob purposefully slowed his movements and pressed her down more firmly onto him, she was catapulted over. She reared back to scream her ecstasy, but Enrique plunged his fingers into her hair and stuffed his cock back into her mouth, thrusting rapidly between her lips as he spent in copious jets. Rob yielded to the unstoppable only a moment later, pouring out his passion.

Enrique, on legs that seemed loathe to support him, tottered back to his chair and fell into it. Constance crumpled onto Rob’s chest, shuddering from reaction.

For a time, all three of them did nothing but draw and release ragged breaths.

“Well,

when

, then?” Enrique asked, sounding aggrieved.

“When what?”

“When is it my turn? How long do you mean to keep her cunny for yourself? We’ve always shared our women.”

“This is different,” Rob said, encircling Constance with one arm. “I was her first … you know I’ve never been with a virgin before. There’s something incredible about knowing that no other cock save mine has plumbed the depths of her.”

“There’s something selfish about it, rather. A cunny’s a cunny.”

“Then it shouldn’t matter whether you get at this one or not.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Rob.”

“Oh, Enrique, really.” Rob exhaled and tilted his head back to regard the ceiling. “I think I’m being very reasonable … for God’s sake, I’ve given you her mouth! All I ask is to save the rest for me. She is

my

sister.”

Constance, still crouched astride Rob, felt hot tears sting her eyelids. Once the thrill of her lust had passed and the tremors of her spending were but memory, the bilious self-loathing came bubbling up again.

How could she had done this, how could she have let this happen? With two of them, two of them thrusting into her at the same time, and had she resisted? Far from it! And now they argued over parts of her the way they might argue over choice morsels of a roast fowl!

“I suppose you’re right,” Enrique allowed bitterly. “But can you blame me for wanting to at least try her?”

“It’s fully understandable.” Rob stroked Constance’s back the way he might pet a favorite hound. “She’s a born slut, after all. Only needed a bit of introduction.”

Disgusted and offended, by his words and tone as much as by the apparent truth in them, Constance climbed off of him and struggled into her gown, wiping furiously at the tears that kept threatening to spill down her cheeks. She knew that if she tried to say anything, she would break into wracking sobs.

“I could marry her, as you suggested,” Enrique said musingly. “My father and yours would be bound to give their permission.”

“I don’t know as I’m willing to give her up.”

“Know this … even once she’s my wife, I have no objection to sharing.” His gaze hardened. “I would not be so selfish with my woman.”

The prospect froze Constance in her tracks. Married to Enrique, never to escape him? Never to escape Rob and her new and unwelcome status of brother’s whore?

Ron laughed. “I doubt any other husband of hers would be so accommodating. Well, then, when Father returns, perhaps we should plead your suit. It’s high time my dear sister was wed, and I can hardly think of a better match.”

Enrique joined him in his laughter, and when she could no longer hold back the sobs, Constance fled from the room.

***

Continued in Chapter Four