Double Bind || Anthony and Benedict Bridgerton

Take It

You're enjoying the ball at Aubrey Hall when suddenly Anthony grabs your arm.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice? I saw you flirting with him." His tone is bitter as he hisses into your ear.
"I wasn't, sir," you counter. It's a slight lie. This secret arrangement you have is so thrilling, hiding behind the veneer of respectability. He pretends to court you in public; in private, he ties you to his bed and fucks you every way. You asked him to ensure that he pushed your boundaries this evening.
"Do you know who he is?" he interrogates.
"It was just a friendly chat," you defend opaquely, somewhat obscuring the truth.
"My office. Now."
"But it's the middle of the party," you protest, playing the role.
"Now." He drags you along by the elbow. Discreet enough, it looks like he is helping you through the crowd, but his grip is vice-like.
He guides you into a room with a big wooden desk and a roaring fire and closes the door with finality. But it's the click of a lock and him pocketing the key that causes your butterflies to roar into life. Oh yes.
He crowds into you, and a hand slips around your throat.
"Don't ever talk to another man without my permission, do you hear me?" His tone is dripping with menace, just like you want.
"Yes, sir," you meet his gaze, "I'm sorry, sir. Please, will you kiss me?"
"No," he scoffs, "kisses are only for good girls who obey my rules."
He maintains his grips and shoves you towards the large bay window containing a couple of chairs and a table.
"Bend over and spread your legs," he snarls, releasing you.
You obey, your hands landing on the cushioned chair seat.
"Wider," he commands.
"I can't, my dress," you protest.
Then there is a tearing sound, and the warm air of the fire hits the back of your legs. He has just ripped a line up to your waist. He tears open your underwear, and it falls to the ground.
"Open your legs. Don't test me," he warns.
You widen your stance instantly.
"Head down" he pushes the back of your head until it's down on the seat; you are almost bent double.
"That's it; don't you dare move." His voice is etched with danger.
Then all is quiet. You wait, breathing heavy, anticipation burning hard in your belly.
He suddenly cups his hand forcefully between your legs, his middle finger quests against your clit, the heel of his palm against your opening.
"Who does this belong to?"
"You"
"What can I do with it?" He curls his grip grabbing at your flesh, his blunt nails dragging into your pussy lips.
"Anything you want, sir."
"I think this cunt needs to be taught a lesson," he growls,
His hand withdraws then three fingers land a stinging blow on your exposed clit.
*smack*
You cry out, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain.
"Does that hurt a little, my girl?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good," he snarls, "I want it to hurt."
*smack*
You moan. Your clit swells, burns and pulses from the sting. Feeling yourself getting wetter, that ache inside desperate for you to be filled.
*smack*
This blow is different; it's a whole hand across your pussy, the touch lingering, his fingertips slip against your tingling bud, teasing.
He keeps going, pulling a litany of noises from you. Spanking between your legs, sometimes catching your clit, other times just the sensitive skin around your upper thighs, your lips. Your skin feels hot, swollen, but so wet as you leak over yourself.
"Look at your swollen red little weeping cunt," he preens, admiring his handiwork. "I think it needs something else, don't you?"
Two fingers slide into your soaked pussy, and you moan at the sensation. His treatment is not slow or kind - it's rough, primal.
"You take my fingers so well, don't you?" He chimes over the sloppy wet noises he is drawing from your body.
"Yes, sir," You should be ashamed, but the sound just turns you on more.
He adds a third finger and flattens his hand, stretching you wide. You feel the squeeze of his knuckles as they drag in and out.
"Oh, it's too much," you wail.
"Shut up," he barks, pushing deeper and faster "you can take it."
"Please make me cum," you babble.
"No," he snipes and stops all movement. You pant hard. "Only good girls get to cum; bad girls get punished."
He withdraws the fingers and spanks hard against your clit. Then dives back in as you shriek. He's deliberately pushing you against the line of pleasure and pain, never quite touching enough where you need to bring you over the edge—just an occasional nudge to keep you aching and desperate for him.
He suddenly pulls his hand from you and steps away.
"No sir," you wail, "please come back."
"Shut up," he grouses. You hear him stripping off his clothes.
"Please, sir, I...."
He yanks your head up by your hair.
"What part of shut up don't you understand?" he sneers into your ear. "Open your mouth, right now."
You obey. Anthony bundles his silk cravat into your mouth; you can smell yourself on his fingers as he does so.
"Bite down, girl." Again you obey. "Good. Maybe that will keep you fucking quiet."
You breathe heavily out of your nose, the silk absorbing all the saliva in your mouth. It's a lot of material, and you struggle not to gag.
He stands behind you. His hands' band around your body and grab your breasts through your clothing. Then he growls and rips your gauzy dress higher until it tears in two and falls to the ground around you in tatters.
You protest, but it's just a muffled sound against his silk.
"You'll have to leave this room naked, so everyone knows the harlot you are," his tone cutting.
He yanks off your stays, so you are now totally naked. Grabbing your breasts into his hands and pulling you back against him, his heated flesh searing against yours. He surges his cock between your bum cheeks.
"Climb onto the chair," his voice steely. You do as asked, your arms resting on the chair back, staring out the window into the darkness of the night. 
He grabs your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints, and you grunt into your gag.
"Oh, I like it so much when you can't talk back to me," he chuckles darkly.
And then he's pressing into you. Rigid and unforgiving. You wail around your silk gag as he stretches you more than his fingers ever could, plundering deep and hitting your hilt with a ragged groan.
"Fuck if you aren't made for me," he snarls and begins pounding into you in earnest.
Your knees chafe against the velvet seat as he drags you back and forth with force, the chair creaking under his punishing rhythm. All you can do is hold on with a vice-like grip and drool against your gag, moaning and crying the whole time.
"Take it," he growls as he pushes hard, changing the angle of his hips to hit all the way at the top of your channel, where it radiates a tension out across to your hips. You scream against his cravat on every stroke, teetering on the line of pleasure-pain again.
You suddenly see a match spark through the window, and it briefly lights up a familiar face - the man you talked to earlier. You see the glowing tip of a cigarette; it seems he is standing in the darkness, watching you being fucked. You close your eyes briefly to deal with the onslaught of Anthony's unforgiving pace, and when you reopen them, the man is gone. It must've been a figment of your imagination - a mirage of your heightened state. Anthony fucks you so hard you are seeing things now.
"Now, as punishment, you are not going to cum tonight, do you hear me?" he barks into your hair. "I will take my pleasure and leave you wanting. Maybe then you'll finally obey my rules."
You protest hard against your gag, but he ignores all the muffled pleas and ploughs on. Your legs shake from the unforgiving angle he has you in. And just as you think you may collapse, he roars loud in your ear and pulls out, splashing his hot seed onto your lower back.
You are still aching and so close to your peak that you have tears running down your face.
"Did you learn your lesson?" he lectures.
You nod your head, resenting what he is doing.
He grabs your jaw and pulls his cravat out of your mouth. You cough and gasp as your mouth is released.
"Now I'm sending you upstairs to your guest bed, and I forbid you from touching yourself. I will know if you try," he warns.
"What do I wear, sir? I'm naked" your voice is scratchy and rough.
He hands you his shirt. "You'll just have to find a way not to be seen," he shrugs.
"But sir I...."
"Leave now," he instructs as you pull on his shirt and attempt to cover everything you need, wiping away your tears.
You walk towards the door that he dutifully unlocks.
"I hope this was everything you wanted, darling girl," he whispers in your ear, breaking character.
You smile over your shoulder at him. "It was wonderful. Please can I touch myself, though? I'm aching."
"Of course, darling, I want you to think of me when you do it." his smile is sinful. "But I meant what I said about that man", he adds sincerely. "Don't go near him."
You frown but decide not to question it.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he presses a quick kiss to your hairline and then shoos you out into the deserted hallway to make your way to bed.