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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Adult · #2171006
Lady Elizabeth is being auctioned off to the highest bidder. Her heart has another desire.
The candles are burning, the moonlight shines through the chamber window. Their lips entwined, she parts her legs as he climbs inside her, the rhythm of his thrusts in motion with hers. Their eyes closed as their kiss deepens; she moans softly as his thrusts get harder, faster and he releases from her kiss so his tongue can discover her neck...

The rooster welcomes the day with its morning tune, out of key like a broken harpsichord.

She awakens, her temperature had risen to the point of boiling, she is soaked from the sweat and the anticipation she had felt during her slumber. Placing her hand to her forehead to wipe away the sleep from her eyes, she lays there for a while thinking about the dream she had just had. She couldn't get him out of her head; the thought of meeting her warrior again filled her with excitement, all she desired was to see him again, to hear his voice as they spoke into the night, wrapped in his embrace.

"Lady Elizabeth!" calls a childish voice from outside the chamber door; "The rooster calls, it is a new day." The door opens, A chambermaid enters no older than nineteen.

" Very well, Rosie." Elizabeth softly groaned as she struggled to wake.

" You look flustered my lady," a concerned Rosie pointed out. "Are you ill?" Elizabeth in her usual soft manner replied;

" No, dear child, not ill, just a dream."

" Beg your Pardon, my Lady, but does something trouble you?" Rosie asked, clearly troubled for her young Mistress.

" I can confide in you, can I not, Rosie?"

Rosie, taken back with astonishment, but gratitude that the young Marquess should confide in her, a simple chambermaid.

" Why yes of course you can, Miss." Elizabeth tapped the bed in indication for Rosie to come and sit beside her. Rosie puts down the tray that held the wash basin onto Elizabeth's dressing table and places herself beside Elizabeth.

" Do you recall two weeks ago come Sunday; at my Father's banquet, a young soldier of the King's guard?" Elizabeth asked Rosie, trying to jog her memory.

" There were many soldiers there that night, Miss." Rosie replied.

" I speak of Sir Marc Smith." Elizabeth smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" Oh yes My Lady, what of him?"

" Well that night, you will recall of my disappearance for a short while...."

It is a clear night, the stars are dancing to tune of the music in the great hall, torches a flame on the walls of the manor house, the faint echo of good cheer and laughter can be heard and the smell of wild boars caught that same day deliciously accenting the scenery of the night.

"Marc, stop this foolishness!" cried Elizabeth but with a hint of laughter the young soldier tickled her gently. "What if my Father catches us?"

"Let him catch us." Marc replied in defiance toward the Duke.

" What is it that you hold against my Father so?" asked Elizabeth.

" I hold nothing against him, only that he treats his daughter like cattle."

" What are you saying?"

" Elizabeth, you know as well as I do, all those nobles in there are here to buy you."

" My Father wants to make me a good match so....."

" ......So he can keep the family fortune and not live in poverty or disgrace," Marc interrupted. "You are far too beautiful to be ridden like a common pack mule or to bare the sons of a man who does not love you."

" What would you have me do Marc?" She knew Marc was right in what he said, though to his face she feigned confusion at his words; "Run away with you?"

Marc stood up, holding out his hands to help Elizabeth from the grass. They walk slowly deeper into the night, so the house was only barely insight, they come to a willow tree, Marc parts the curtain of leaves and bows to Elizabeth, letting her enter first. When he enters, he walks up to her, towering over her.

" I would have you smile, my Lady." his hand stroking her cheek as he leans in for a passionate kiss. Both leaned against the trunk of the willow tree.

Their kiss deepens, slowly Marc unties the lace of Elizabeth's bodice to reveal her perfectly young, peaked breasts, red and swollen as they begged for his touch. He undoes his buckle, holding onto Elizabeth tightly so she does not fall, he takes out his hard throbbing man hood, lifts her leg from under her skirts and enters her. It did not hurt Elizabeth as this was not her first time with her soldier.

He starts off slowly and gently sucking down Elizabeth's neck and kissing her chest, her fingers clawing through his long mousey brown hair. His beard tickling the top of her nipples. She has to keep quiet so that her Father's guards will not hear her, but she cries out as she begs Marc to thrust harder. He does, he spins her around so she is now up against the tree, she kisses him passionately, thrusting inside her faster and deeper.

Her wetness trickles down her legs, flowing all the way to his shaft and down. Marc buries his face into her neck as he reaches climax groaning into her neck, as he fills her up her nails grip into his back, drawing blood as they scratch down, he screams a mixture of ecstasy and pain.

Both out of breath, they lay together on the grass for a short while, their hands entwined. "We should return to the house," Elizabeth softly pointed out. " Our absence will be spotted."
Marc leaned over, stroking Elizabeth's forehead, "What a shame that would be." He kisses her softly. They make themselves presentable, like a true gentleman; as he had done many times before, he holds out his arm for Elizabeth to link hers with his.









© Copyright 2018 E.F. HART (sleepwalker92 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2171006-Desire-to-Die-For-Prologue