Chapter 1
THIS STORY WILL BE FREE IN ITS ENTIRETY FOR A SHORT TIME ONLY. PLEASE BE AWARE THIS IS DARK EROTICA.
Nysarria, the Spurgeon Solar System. Somewhere above Babbage Falls aboard the Raganork Airship
Dr Byron Gideon Ashby, part-time sky pirate, had been dubbed “The Wicked Gentleman” for his antics when he robbed pretty, defenceless ladies of their precious jewels. Today he would more than live up to his reputation. He removed his steam-powered rocket pack from his shoulders and stared out of his black and silver plague doctor mask with lustful amber eyes at Countess Gwendolyn Baldwin. One of his men held her in a tight grip. He lowered the rocket pack down onto the green velvet chaise longue and aimed his blaster at the countess and her husband.
The doctor cast a dashing aristocratic and somewhat frightening figure in his elegant black top hat, black leather plague doctor mask, with cold-cast aluminium eyepieces, beak, and steel dome rivets. His black velvet cut-away Regency coat with tails was complimented by a high silver silk cravat. His gloves were white, and his tall, toned athletic body was finished with black breeches and knee length black hunting boots.
On his dramatic arrival at the room on the airship, Dr Ashby had noticed the countess removing her rings and earrings to hide them. She had dared to hide them down the tight black and gold brocade corset sitting on top of her ripe, slim hips clothed in a full length black bustle skirt. She was indeed a striking beauty. Her auburn hair was piled atop her head, and her dark green eyes with full black lashes fluttered nervously at him, exposing her guilty secret. He watched as she placed her long, gloved hands on her hips and attempted to look at him defiantly. The Wicked Gentleman did not like to be made a fool of, especially by a lady. For her misdemeanour and disobedience, he decided the countess would be receiving a sound bare bottom spanking over his knees before he left the airship with his booty.
“Take anything of worth,” he ordered his men, who were threatening the count and his men and servants. There were eight of them, all dressed in black and each sporting a leather gas mask and helmet. Five of them brandished cutlasses menacingly at the count and his men. The other three of The Wicked Gentleman’s gang began ransacking the rooms on the airship, putting anything of worth into leather sacks. One of them held the countess in a tight grip when she began struggling violently, inelegant cursing tripping from her lips as he searched her hands, ears, and throat for jewels.
“You will not find them there,” Doctor Ashby grinned under his mask. “The beautiful countess has already hidden them down her pretty corset.” His voice was crisp and upper class.
“Please remove them or I will have no choice but to retrieve them myself, Countess,” he threatened.
“I do not know what you are talking about. I have hidden nothing,” she was haughty, once again cursing at the man who held her.
The Wicked Gentleman approached the woman. “Do not make the mistake of believing that I am a kind and true gentleman who will not retrieve them from between your naked breasts for all to see, madam.”
“You would not dare!” The woman was outraged.
“Oh yes, I would. I am going to have the good grace to count to three and give you one more chance before stripping you bare where you stand, madam.”
The countess’ eyes widened with shock, but she still decided to disbelieve him.
“You would not—”
“One…”
“I am not giving you anything! Pirate, thief—”
“Two…”
“This is outrageous! I will not give up my jewels. You will not dare to retrieve—”
“Give him the jewels, Gwendolyn, for God’s sake,” her husband urged.
“I will not.”
“Gag and tie up the count. Three. Your time is up, Countess.”
There was a firmness in Doctor Ashby’s voice that told all who could hear it that he had indeed meant every word and that now he was going to strip the countess naked.
“Hold the countess’ arms tightly behind her back,” he instructed her captor whilst the doctor deposited his blaster back inside his leather holster inside his jacket. He took out a pocketknife, then slipped his hand between the middle of the countess’ corset, his gloved white hand brushed the milky white mounds that threatened to spill over and out of their confined space.
The Wicked Gentleman pulled her forward, causing her arms to stretch painfully out behind her, still held by his masked gang member. She gasped out loud when he took the knife and cut down the middle of the corset, but she could offer him little resistance. When the knife reached the bottom of the corset, the doctor had no hesitation in opening the corset wide and removing it from the countess to bare her breasts to every man in the room.
The jewels dropped to the floor, but the doctor did not pay them any heed. Ignoring the blushing of the countess and her curses, he continued stripping her, convinced she hid more under her skirt—but more for the desire to see her standing naked and vulnerable, open to pleasurable penetration should she desire it.
He cut and tore the silk taffeta skirt and her petticoat until they were removed in tatters around her feet. There was an awed silence in the room as every man’s eyes rested upon her naked form. She had not been wearing any undergarments and her neatly shaven auburn-curled sex was displayed prominently. Her long, slim legs were covered in dark stockings, and she still wore her long black gloves, her leather laced ankle boots, and a lace and black leather collar at her throat. She was a stunning vision—one The Wicked Gentleman could not resist sampling.
His eyes roved over her small but pert breasts with the darkened plum peaks pointing at him with arousal. He grinned to himself underneath the mask. For all the countess’ efforts to resist and her curses, her body was becoming aroused at his masterful treatment. He pressed his gloved hand against her stomach, sweeping his eyes over her moist lips, pressing his hand lightly into her stomach to calm her agitated breathing. He stroked her flesh gently.
“I think you are concealing something else,” he said softly. His gloved hand moved down her stomach and paused at the top of her auburn curls.
“Part your thighs, Countess.”
She stared at him and shook her head.
“Part your thighs, Countess, and let the jewel go, or I will remove it.”
She shook her head defiantly.
The Wicked Gentleman grinned beneath his mask, grateful for the opportunity she was giving him. He moved his gloved fingers through her curls and slipped them neatly between her pussy lips. Surprisingly, she was dampening, making his probing for the jewel that she clenched tightly between her lips easy.
She gave a low female moan as he moved his fingers back and forth. The small ruby was nestled up high in her lips, but he took his time to stroke and fondle the slickness of her mound, circling the small vaginal entrance and pausing to pinch the tiny, plump pleasure bud hanging ripe from her sex. It was a joy to inspect her flesh so intimately. He would have dearly loved to have her on his examination table, naked and defenceless, willingly probed and brought to climax by the new steam medical apparatus he had been developing to pleasure and inseminate a female.
Yet, she wasn’t quite the right type of woman to use in the experiment. He was still searching, and when he laid eyes upon her, he would know instantly of her appropriateness.
Another moan and then a small gasp escaped the countess’ mouth when Doctor Ashby’s persistent caress forced her to unclench the impressive muscles in her vagina. He knew what he next felt was the small priceless ruby the count and countess were carrying to the city of Gravura to have made into a large ring, a present for the countess on their first anniversary.
He pulled it out from her pussy lips and admired it, wiping the countess’ milky juice away with his fingers. He put the jewel in his top pocket and turned his attention to the pouting countess.
“An ingenious place to hide a jewel, my dear. The muscles in your vagina are unusually strong. You warrant further intimate examination, but I do not have my medical apparatus here to test them. It is a shame, I must say. But I shall content myself with disciplining you for hiding the jewels. I am not a man to be trifled with.”
He flicked a thumb idly over her breast, watching it spring back and forth. The countess gave another helpless moan even though she began to struggle with defiance. He removed his gloves, setting them down next to the rocket pack on the chaise longue.
“Discipline?” she breathed nervously.
“Yes, spanked over my knee until your bottom is reddened enough to remind you of your punishment every time you sit, madam,” he informed her light heartedly.
“You cruel, heartless—”
Doctor Ashby reached behind her and raised his hand, smacking first the left bare buttock and then the right, hard and firm to silence the countess’ errant tongue. The urge to spank her for her squalling tongue over his knee was now overwhelming. The woman needed some firm male guidance and instruction to tame her disobedience.
She cried out with pain, but when he repeated the action, brushing himself against her breasts and sex to achieve the action, she became silent.
“Blindfold her and tie her hands behind her back. Blindfold the count but remove his gag. I want to converse with him. Remove the other men to the dining room.”
Satisfied that both the count and countess were blindfolded, Doctor Ashby removed his plague doctor mask. He was dark and handsome, with a devilish air about him that always ensured he rarely slept alone, even though he was single. At twenty-six years he had a full head of dark brown hair, with well-chiselled aristocratic features, high cheekbones, and a manly chin. His amber eyes, unimpeded by his mask, shone brightly as he viewed the naked countess. He gestured for his man to let her go into his custody and to move the count to a chair facing the chaise longue. Then he ordered the man to leave to help with the ransacking of the airship and its many rooms.
“Come, Countess,” he said, lifting the young woman around her waist. Immediately she began kicking and screaming against him. He ignored her behaviour, knowing it was soon to be schooled to his satisfaction over his knee. He sat down on the chaise longue and neatly deposited the countess over his knee.
Doctor Ashby braced the naked countess against his knee and administered a sound bare bottom spanking. He raised his hand in a well-practised arc and aimed for the most sensitive parts of her bottom. His favourite place to catch with his firm disciplining hand was the uppermost backs of a woman’s tender thighs and just where her buttocks curved. The quivering flesh was a pleasure to view as it jumped obediently to his attention with each slap he delivered. A woman always cried out with pain from being struck there, but he had also discovered on experimentation that these were the places which also aroused the female subject, mixing her pain with strong pleasure, should he be inclined that way.
Countess Baldwin was the fourth woman he had spanked naked in the last week and a half for attempting to withhold jewels and personal trinkets in her undergarments, but the countess had been the first to hide them in her sex. Each slap of her rounded milky flesh was loud and painful, silencing her errant squalling tongue.
