B L A C K A C R E#4
(Quick & Dirty Historical Reads)
The Moral Right Of The Author Is Asserted
(Warning: Hard-Core Sexually Explicit Material)
Remove Compassion and All Joy
Reverse Hope for Despair
Erase Love and in it’s Place Deposit Lust
And You Have Before You BLACKACRE
Her Dowager Aunt; sat erect and glacial in the offices of Mr. John Smith, the Family Solicitor at Law when in theory she should have been some several miles away on The Wessex Estate where her acidic tongue and glacial nature could best be contained.
“Yes, it is I. Do close your mouth dear or you will let a draft in and then where shall we be; why we shall have influenza at our door!”
Hetty, deeply shaken did as she was bid though the palm of her hand lingered longer on the doorframe than necessary. She struggled to recover her until then fine disposition; having spent the night licking hot black pussy and experiencing the heady delights of having her own messy slick sex licked clean in return.
“Mr. Smith was quite insistent that I attend this meeting and you know all too well my dear how I live to be of good service and accommodate those in need. Particularly if there may be even the slightest suggestion that your most adored father’s reputation and thus legacy may in any way be at stake.”
Hetty’s gaze shifted from the calculated sharpness of her Dowager Aunt who never to her recollection had undertaken anything that had not in someway been of direct benefit to herself and came to rest on the gentle face of the Solicitor whom she had known since she was but a small precocious child dressed in petticoat and pigtails.
Mr. Smith did not look away for there was history and mutual respect, a genuine affection between Lady Blackacre and the old man of Law.
But his entire aspect Hetty comprehended with slow dread was sober and exceedingly grim. Positioning his pale bloodless hands upon a great tomb of a book that lay before him Mr. Ebenezer Smith struggled to be both welcoming and grave as finally he spoke.
“Countess Blackacre, what a relief that you have arrived and so promptly.”
Hetty inclining her head ever so slightly took a seat by her Aunt’s side.
“Now that the pleasantries have been exhausted shall we begin?” Pressed The Dowager flexing her skeletal yet firm fingers around the ivory handle of her walking cane, for already the great Lady was in poor temper; returning to London after so long a length away she had been reminded once again how the very fabric of society was going to rot! Each day old certainties began to shiver and shake. The beggar of today might well be the wealthy industrialist of tomorrow. Class could no longer be guaranteed through pedigree and birth. Gone too were the days when the common rabble would doff their caps and bow in respect of their betters. Why only this morning she had been forced to suffer the most insolent of stares from men and women who were in no way her equal, as she had approached these very chambers to fulfil her obligation with Mr. Smith. And increasingly there were wild whisperings in the National Press of giving the vote to the common unwashed man … a slippery slope that would surely end in anarchy when rotten boroughs, though not perfect surely served the purpose for all well and good! Had the government of the day comprehended nothing? Spencer Perceval; a British Prime Minister no less! Assassinated and a plot foiled that would have, if the project had succeeded killed an entire cabinet! The Great Lady snorted in disgust.
“Yes, let us begin.” Agreed Mr. Smith breaking into the Dowager’s aggrieved thoughts while labouring with great drama in the absolution and clearing of his throat. With ominous slow purpose the aged Solicitor pushed the large book before him to one side and began with practiced hands to shuffle a sea of papers into a semblance of order.
“The situation as I understand it only became apparent some ten days ago.” Explained Mr. Smith his fingers continuing to work at the very edges of his dense paper files as his reasoning for so urgent a summoning of both Hetty and her Aunt commenced.
Wary of eye, Hetty looked on with concern. Mr. Smith appeared to be struggling beneath some great weight. She herself fought to hold down the panic and dread that had consumed her since receiving the Solicitor’s letter several days past bidding her make all haste to London. Now Hetty waited, breath held, heart pounding for release.
“I like to believe that the late Viscount; your father, Lady Blackacre was not only a most valued client but that over the years he came to think of me as a most firm and loyal friend.”
Lady Constance inclined her head to one side the elaborately decorated bonnet that sat squat and immovable upon her head giving her at that moment the strong aspect of a bird of prey about to peck.
Visage like thunder, The Dowager demanded more than was currently being offered.
“Has some issue arisen that has pressed such warm regard into question?”
Mr. Smith in answer placed an envelope on his desk. The small envelope faced the women, one might even be so bold as to say that it carried by infinite degrees the look of blandness and yet its contents would prove explosive.
A pregnant pause followed as the aged Lawyer studied the women before him for the tell tale signs of interest and alarm that must surely begin to appear.
“Five days ago I received this. It is from a firm of Solicitors based up in Birmingham. Ladies, the news they have brought to my attention brings you, I am deeply saddened to say, nothing but ill-will and certain ruin if a remedy is not found and quickly.”
So far Blackacre had been more than true to his word. A cottage had been found for Mathew close to the most profitable of the numerous collieries that littered the Blackacre estate. Vast sums had also been spent on attire that best suited a gentlemen Daniel being of the mind that if Mathew were to be groomed to supervise Blackacre in his absence, he should in all ways and forms look the part. That he carry himself in a way that was both pleasing and held the weight of authority in accordance with his increased standing within the Blackacre household. At length Huntley-Brown and Blackacre discussed the merits of apparel coming to broad agreement that pantaloons should be adopted and breeches that were increasingly falling from favour be abandoned in their entirety, that a vest of black silk satin and fabric of plaid cotton twill for pantaloons be worn but that the silk pongee scarf was totally to be rejected. Beneath the glow of Daniel Blackacre’s continued good humour Mathew was indulged and purchase made of a dozen newly patented and mass-produced steel point pens with the promise that the self-refilling pen that was currently beyond Blackacre’s purse by inclination rather than due to price, might one day yet be his. In place of this other overly expensive pen a box of good writing paper was bought upon which Mathew might begin to make his mark.
Mathew spent his first night beneath the roof of his humble cottage heart bursting with disbelief and joy feeling himself to be a man who had long abandoned hope, but whom hope had never the less found. Now the pictorial plans of the mines which he had reworked by aid of candle-light till late into the night at his rough wooden table remained folded between his beating heart and fine silk as he awaited the moment when he could present improvements and amendments that might be made to the workings of the Blackacre mines to best enrich and ensure the safety of all.
But this morning Daniel Blackacre had awoken vastly different from the man he had been the day before. Today Blackacre was in the foulest of moods and as such interested in nothing but the pursuit of hot black cunt.
Huntley-Brown’s voice fell, low and full of warning as he stepped to Mathew’s side.
“Do not distress your master with talk of the mines. Do as he bids you to ensure the whip does not fall to your own hot skin. I hear talk that the slave, Wednesday who he loaned out to be fucked by all and sundry has been stolen by another man; when it was Blackacre’s intention that this black wench be taught a lesson and bow to white cock and then be returned to the fold of Blackacre to do his bidding.”
Here, Huntley-Brown released a tight smile and shook his head. “Moreover with this Wednesday’s absence her hold over your master’s head and heart has increased ten fold. This combined with Lady Blackacre’s swift departure to London with another of his fuck maids without word nor warning has inflamed Lord Blackacre further. The Countess has walk out on the entire household with no able-bodied Butler or Housekeeper to control the servants and slaves alike. All has ensured that Blackacre’s temper remains beyond its limits. Fractured and unstable to all approach.”
Silently Mathew absorbed what was said but still his impatience remained a hard real tangible thing that it cost him all to control.
The wench before the Earl was not to his normal taste but today the flesh market held scant offering when it came to the deep ebony slaves he had a hot penchant for.
This woman was set apart from the others heavily shackled her stomach beginning to show the tell tale signs of being with child. Even without the swollen belly Blackacre could tell that she was large in body her enormous breasts swollen low as she sat in a crouching position on the dirt floor.
Mathew looked on pity in his heart as he observed the way the woman’s long dark fingers seemed to cling to the walls her eyes averted from the probing scrutiny of the men before her. It was as though she wished to vanish from both god and man and no more exist.
“Well, what say you?” Blackacre’s gaze momentarily fell to the men by his side.
“This black beauty must be at least four months gone with child but yet she is pleasing of aspect and possesses I believe sound and most substantial hips that a man may ride at his pleasure.” Declared Huntley-Brown the smile on his lips failing to reach the cold darkness of his eyes.
“Begging your Lordship’s pardon.” Stuttered the Flesh Market Manager bowing low with obsequious humility. “May I respectfully remind your Lordship that the goods on offer may be handled and tested if so desired?”
Blackacre grinned as he appraised the ebony cunt before him.
“Indeed my good man; it is most certainly desired!”
Falling to his knees Blackacre touched the smooth velvet rump of the wench before him. She returned his scrutiny with unabashed terror from which Daniel garnered great delight and increasing satisfaction his cock growing in discomfort inside his breeches as his lust for the woman before him grew. Ignoring all resistance he dominated by strength alone parting her long smooth black legs so that he could peruse her pussy at leisure; pink and slick in glorious contrast to the ripe blackness of her skin; her womanhood was ripe to be fucked this day! Daniel Blackacre forced a hand with savage thrusts into the very core of her hot sex, imagining his own thick white cock in this velvet cunt. The slave squirmed beneath his fingers as he delved deeper into the lush smoothness of her sex. Her terror made his desire thicken and expand; he had no issue creaming up her pussy to a level that best met his needs. Lowering his lips to the black beauty’s breasts, Blackacre flicked his tongue back and forth against the thickening nub conscious that throughout it all the slickness of her sex was steadily increasing to a glorious wetness.
“By God, pregnant or not she’s a succulent creature! If not for that swollen belly I would have no hesitation to purchase.” Blackacre’s words were hard and full of unspent fury made more dangerous for want of a true and clear target.
“And yet I may have use of you yet …rut your delicious ebony pussy upon my fingers and be quick about it!” Snapped Blackacre. The wench returned his stare seemingly uncomprehending of what was required.
“Come now my dear; it is apparent from your state that you are in no way ignorant to the process of fucking. I would wager that the asking of it is a rarity; men’s white cocks pumping their discourse into your person without word nor warning as is their want.”
The woman never took her eyes from him as she inclined her body forward, her lush core by slow increments descending to embrace him.
The feel of wet pussy writhing against his hand was an exquisite yet torturous delight. It sated one desire while inflaming several more.
There was the clearing of throats, the heavy shuffle of feet behind him. The Manager his face earnest and inflamed stepped forward. “Your Lordship, if you would prefer a location more discreet in which to sample this glorious example of womanhood I have private rooms at the back.”
Blackacre grinned his gaze falling away from the Manager to take in the crowd of men that had begun to grow around him. The air was thick with the variegated edge of anticipation and lust. Eyes shinning with devilish light Daniel’s gaze fell on the black slave her full red lips parted in a way that was most inviting to his cock.
“Of a room there will be no need; here will suffice.”