Monday, May 11, 2015

The villainous Lord Roderick!—Saved by the Highlander

I know I say this all the time, but villainous noblemen are fun to write. Check out Her True Lord's Claim for another good example, but here's Lord Roderick from Saved by the Highlander.

That same afternoon Lord Roderick Sperry went to the bedchamber of Alana, one of Lormoran’s chambermaids, to fuck her, as he did most days.

Alana was a sweet young highland lass of nineteen, red-haired and blue-eyed as all highland lasses, Roderick thought, ought to be. Six months before, on the pretext of finding fault with her cleaning of a floor, Roderick had gone to her room to whip her with the castle’s ancient punishment strap. He had then deflowered her, telling her forthrightly that although he would retain the right to whip her whenever he pleased, it making a necessary part of his pleasures, Alana would find him much kinder, and might even enjoy the whipping, if she went into the special service Roderick reserved for his very favorite maids.

Like three other chambermaids before her, if she gave herself over to his regular voluptuous use, whether in her sparsely furnished little room in the servants’ hall or on occasion in Lord Roderick’s own bed—or even from time to time in his library—Alana would not be whipped with the severity Roderick reserved, as the reverse of the medal, for those chambermaids who refused him. Roderick, who liked to take care of his bastards—at thirty years of age he already had five of them—also promised Alana that should she get with child, he would see after her lying-in and after the fostering of the child.

Then, without compunction, he fucked her the way he liked to fuck compliant highland lasses: Alana’s palms flat on her narrow bed with its plaid blanket and his hips pounding against her well-punished backside, and the lass crying out her submission to the noble cock of the laird of Lormoran. Truly he loved Alana enough to fuck her face to face from time to time; she wasn’t like Catriona, her predecessor in the laird’s special chamber where he instructed Mrs. Grant, the housekeeper, to house new girls whom he planned to fuck. With Catriona, now raising Roderick’s third son (the second to be named Roderick) in the village of Lormoran, as the wife of a crofter, the fucking of his special maid had been an exciting battle of wills. Roderick had to conquer Catriona over and over, winning her submission with his hands and his strap and his cock, until her cries had rung out so loudly up and down the servants’ hall that Mrs. Grant had even ventured to ask the butler Herter to ask Lord Roderick to be a little more lenient with the maid.

Herter said, sliding into the library one morning just after breakfast, “I wonder if I might have a word, my lord.”

“Certainly, Herter,” Roderick replied, thinking that the butler wished to discuss arrangements for the hunting party that would soon arrive at Lormoran. Among other things, of course, Roderick had ensured that each of his bachelor guests would have a sweet little bedmate to welcome him home from the chilly days of stalking.

“My lord,” said Herter, looking rather uncomfortable. “I thought you should know that Mrs. Grant has overheard the footmen speaking about Catriona.”

Roderick smiled. “Saying what, pray?”

Herter looked grave, which made the sport all the better. “Well, my lord, young George, I gather, was heard to say, though perhaps in rather coarser terms, that you, my lord, must have found some very serious fault with her conduct, to… treat the girl as, it seems from the sounds that emerge from her chamber, severely as you do.”

“I have indeed,” replied Roderick. “Catriona is a little minx who stands in grave need of daily correction.” He tried to bring some solemnity and hauteur into his tone, but really Roderick felt too much delight at the idea that the servants knew all about his amorous and disciplinary pursuits to bring it off. If the marriage with the earl’s daughter came about, how much fun could he have watching the girl’s discomfiture at learning of the nature and frequency of her bridegroom’s visits to his special maid?

But he would probably have to kill the earl’s daughter, more was the pity. The excuse Roderick needed to clear the MacAlpins out of his hills lay ready to hand, in such a marriage; no amorous pleasure could outweigh the pleasure of knowing that his cattle grazed safely and that he had driven the proud highlanders away forever.

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