And that’s what allowed Frederick to reach her. He was above her, his arms around her, his legs forcing hers apart. That damned gown tore away without resistance under his grasping hands, and she felt him yanking at the fabric, then groping her breasts roughly.
He pulled away only to tug at the last of her dress.
“I’m going to fuck you, little vixen,” he growled against her ear. “I hope your tiny pussy is ready to take this big, bad cock I have for you.”
She could do naught but moan as he slid that shaft between the slick tops of her thighs and let her cunny lips feel the sensation of how he’d slide inside her soon.
“Your cunt is wet for me?” he asked, plucking at her nipples until she cried out from the mix of bliss and pain.
“With fingers like that, you should play the harp,” she gasped.
“I’ll play you like a harp,” he grit out, fitting the swollen head of his leaking cock at her entrance. “Now take this shaft I have for you. I have a pussy to claim and a womb to fill.”
Marianne’s scream of pleasure echoed in the forest, marking the moment her husband shoved himself inside her body without hesitation and let her feel the weight of his feral desire for her.
She panicked and inched forward, seeking to scoot away from his driving cock that was so overwhelming and large.
Frederick caught her hips and held her in place, giving her no quarter as he thrust. Her moans escaped her; not the sort she could make in the house, where they were a duke and his duchess, constantly surrounded by servants, but a stag and his plaything who needed to be mounted and bred.
“That little cunt is so good for me when you’re not trying to scurry away,” he said, holding himself deep as he opened her on his cock. “But I need to get this womb filled, so you’re going to be a very good girl and take it just how you need it.”
She was about to ask what he meant by that when Frederick directed her head down to the ground of the clearing. He gently turned her face and then pressed her forward until her cheek rested against the fallen leaves, now rotting from a winter of damp and cold.
Her body bowed at the sensation of having her shoulders and hips pinned, cunny stuffed full, and mind blank of everything except her husband’s rough claiming.
“I’ve longed to mount you since hearing your song, my love. And now I’ll fill you in the only way that will truly mark you as mine.”
He dropped a hand to her lower belly and let her feel the warmth of his palm. “I need you to hold my seed here so you swell with my child. Can you do that? Can you take this load I have for you?”
“Yes, Frederick, I want it,” she groaned against the leaves, her body so close to erupting that she’d promise him anything.
“But first I must,” he shifted his clever fingers to find her untouched nub and let them play over her sensitive body.
It took three strums until she broke, her hands coming to fists as she milked his cock with her orgasm and felt something deep within quake and move.
“Yes, take that seed,” he rasped, his hand on her hip holding her hard as he thrust in rapidly and without remorse as she continued to wail through her climax.
“You feel how wet I’ve got that cunt?” he asked, still stroking in and out despite their eruptions trailing off into mere sated bliss.
“You’ve seeded me,” she said tiredly, wishing she could collapse in a heap. Marianne moved to lie down, but Frederick kept her in the position in which he’d placed her.
“Stay like that,” he said. “Face down. Arse up. I need that womb filled. And if you’re a very good fox, I’ll fuck you again once I’m satisfied my seed has settled.”
At that, she straightened her back and prepared to wait as long as necessary to receive her reward.
Epilogue
Four months later
“Now, play just as I taught you,” said Marianne, giving her husband a pinch on the thigh.
“But I can’t, my love,” he whined, “not when I’m in such a state.”
That night after dinner, the duchess had locked the doors to the drawing room and resolved to teach the duke how to play the harp he admired so much. Sadly, the lesson was quickly going sideways as Frederick grew hard and horny from playing the instrument he associated with his delectable wife.
From her spot on the floor next to where he was sitting, Marianne allowed her regal brows to raise inquisitively.
“I’m so hard for you,” he groaned, rubbing over the place his shaft was hot and ready in his trousers.
