Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11482959.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Relationship:
      Victorian_Gentleman/Female_Ward
  Character:
      Original_Male_Character(s), Original_Female_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Victorian, Underage_Rape/Non-con, Abuse_of_Authority, Loss_of_Innocence,
      Forced_Orgasm, Forced_Submission, Non-Consensual_Oral_Sex, Anachronistic,
      (probably)
  Collections:
      Nonconathon_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-12 Words: 3683
****** Proof of Virtue ******
by allyoops
Summary
     Any man of upright character must needs be disappointed when his
     female ward betrays her strict upbringing by unwittingly bringing him
     to arousal.
     Protest as she might, affairs thereafter must take their natural
     course.
Notes
     This work may contain underage characters depending on the law where
     you live. The youngest participant is sixteen.
See the end of the work for more notes
Derrick Morrison was a man of upstanding character. Everyone said so. It was a
point of pride for him, and it was for that very reason he had been charged
with the care and upbringing of his ward Miss Alice Lowell after the death of
her parents.
He was not a blood relative of the girl, but the close friendship he had shared
with her father since their boyhood had caused him to feel some tender
obligation to the child and her wellbeing. He presented his case that this bond
made him a candidate for guardianship, and on closer scrutiny he proved the
best equipped in every respect—he possessed property sufficient not to be
tempted by the acquisition of hers, and a moral character upright enough to
guide her the development of her own. Therefore he was appointed by the
executor of her parents’ estate to the care and upbringing of the little girl,
then only eight years of age.
However, it was Derrick’s very uprightness of character that caused him to be
so disconcerted to discover Alice was probably a girl of loose and wanton
inclination.
It should have been inconceivable that a young lady he’d raised for fully half
of her life could disappoint in that respect. Now sixteen, she conducted
herself with every appearance of virtue and had never done anything to give him
concern. She wore the clothes he approved, kept the hours he set and engaged
only in those amusements he deemed appropriate.
However, on espying her—quite by chance—in her nightgown on the landing one
evening, he was alarmed to discover she raised the same reaction in his
breeches as a Covent Garden whore. And since he was an individual of such
impeccable character, this must mean Alice was not.
The problem dismayed him so that he sent for her at once the following morning.
She came to him dressed in a very appropriate garment, a white lawn gown
ruffled about the neck and wrists, her dark hair falling in soft curls around
rosy cheeks and thence halfway down her back. She was the image of a girl
prepared to achieve womanhood unsullied by any worldly pollution, first
carefully guarded by an especially dour nursemaid and thereafter by a grim
governess who had just last month given up her earthly husk and doubtless been
borne away to whatever sober reward awaited only the most Scottish and
Presbyterian of governesses.
Yes, everything about Alice radiated the innocent composure expected of such a
carefully-reared young lady, but somehow the very purity of the image evoked an
opposite reaction in Derrick. He was consumed by a desire to tear the snowy
white dress from her body and expose her flesh to his mercy—therefore, he
concluded she must be a very wicked girl indeed.
“Alice,” he said gravely, “I must speak with you on a serious matter.”
She looked at him in becoming concern. Her pink, Cupid’s-bow lips pursed in
confusion.
“What matter is that, Sir?”
“I am concerned for your character.”
Her eyes widened, shining a dark starry blue and appearing guileless in every
respect.
“My character? What have I done?”
“This I do not know,” he said honestly, “but I fear it must be most terrible. I
thought it would only be fair to invite you to confess your transgressions
before I found them out myself, as you must know I will.”
“I have no secrets from you,” she promised. “If I have done anything, you are
already privy to it.”
He frowned. There was such honesty in her voice, and yet he longed above all
else to bare her breasts to his grasp and take them in his teeth, to which
unseemly act not even a whore could inspire him. She must be deceiving him.
“Alice, I warn you now that to dissemble with me in this matter will be futile.
This is your final opportunity to make a confession.”
“But,” she looked genuinely distressed, so that he was almost persuaded to
believe her above the unbearable strain of his cockstand, “I have nothing to
confess. Please believe me. Why do you think I am untruthful?”
The question, so gently phrased in such a pleasant, moderate tone of voice,
drove him to impulsive action. He tore impatiently at the front of his garments
until his cock was freed to stand between them. Alice drew back in shock at the
sight, raising her hands to cover the bottom half of her face and peeping
fearfully at it over her fingertips.
“Oh!” she said “Are you ill?”
“It is a sort of sickness,” he retorted, “that inspires a young girl to debase
herself in such a way that a man is tempted to possess her. Can you deny that
you have behaved loosely?”
“Mr. Morrison!” Alice looked from his cock to his face then back again with a
sort of plaintive horror, “I have never in my life done anything that would
cause you to be ashamed of my conduct. I hope I have been guided by you in all
things. What would you have me do to prove this?”
Again, the gentility of her face and the clear honesty of her voice nearly
swayed him to believe her. Her hands she still kept up, as if to protect
herself from the sight of his nakedness. Something about her refusal to gaze
directly at his cock when she had so clearly consented to looseness of action
in some form or other, in order to have inspired its awakening, drove him
beyond patience to cold fury.
“You can come here and kneel,” he ordered her, “and confront the cost of your
debauchery.”
She approached all a-tremble from the top of her head to the toes of neat,
white kid boots. She knelt before him as prettily and humbly as a maid at the
altar, and looked up into his face with a sort of faint, fading hope that she
might persuade him of her virtue.
“Sir, please. Whatever has . . . has happened,” her eyes skirted around the
open flap and the evidence of his virility, “I think can be mended. Won’t you
allow me to fetch a physician? If you’re unwell—”
“It is not I who am unwell,” he corrected her. “I am upright in this and all
other matters. If you have inflamed me to lust after you then the fault must
lie in your own conduct.”
Alice drew back, eyes and mouth wide.
“To lust after me?” she echoed. Her voice was thinned with horror. “On my
honour, I have done nothing—”
“Have you not?” he challenged. “Why just last night, I saw you in your night
clothes. Do you deny that you stood out on the landing with the shape of your
body plainly visible through your sleeping garments? I saw the curve of your
hip and the swell of your breast, just as you must have wished me to. Now here
is the cost of your lewdness.”
He reached out and took her by the back of the neck, forcing her gaze to land
on the menacing rod of his cock.
“And here is the price you will pay for leading me down this path,” he
concluded. “Now remove your dress, and show me everything you wished me to see
when you thought you could pretend to innocence about it.”
Alice fought against his hand, crying out in protest, but he was undeceived by
her trickery. Since she was slow to oblige him in his demand he took the fine
cloth of her gown in his hand and tore it away.
He was surprised at the ease of the thing; the light white cloth, ill suited to
the rough and tumble pursuits of boyhood, was suitable for the more delicate
enjoyments of girlhood. As such, it gave way with hardly a rip of protest and
bared to his gaze the even softer, whiter fabric of her undergarments.
She did not wear a woman’s full stays but the guiding, supportive garments
suited to a young lady about to leave the school room and make her debut to
society. The upper curve of her breasts rose, swollen and tempting, above the
soft white ruffle of her chemise. The stays offered a token resistance but he
overcame that easily enough when he freed her neck and used both hands to rip
open her bodice, baring her breasts for his satisfaction.
They were perfect in every respect. A small, plump palmful each, the skin was
creamy white, the tips blushing rosy-pink as if at the embarrassment of their
condition. Alice was weeping openly now, her dainty hands making vain efforts
to fend him off, to no avail.
The pretence of modesty offended him in a way her bare flesh did not.
“You would have me take you like this, would you not?” he challenged, rising
above her so that his cock was at her eye level, or would have been, if she
would consent to regard it instead of playing the maid still. “Half-clothed,
like a whore. Well I will not satisfy you in that, my girl. I will have you
properly, do you understand? You will submit to me as a lady ought to yield to
a gentleman, naked in her master’s bed, and not in this wanton half-clad
fashion. Then you will see you cannot defy me without cost.”
“Please, Sir,” she sobbed, “I think you must be very unwell, fevered perhaps—”
“Enough!” he thundered. “I will not have you pretend to virtue you do not
possess. Stand before me now and thank me for my consideration of your status
in my possession of you, or I will turn you out into the street just as you
are.”
Alice looked up at him in pained horror, all too conscious of her torn gown and
the poor blushing breasts he had bared.
“Turn me—oh please, no!”
“Then stand at once and thank me kindly for my consideration.”
She rose on shaking legs and tried to cover her chest with her arms. He coldly
slapped her hands away.
“None of your false modesty, girl. Out with it.”
“Thank you kindly,” she whispered, the words so faint they were nearly carried
away by a soft current of parlour air, “for your con-consideration of my . . .
my status and desiring to guard my virtue.”
“Quite right,” he said, almost approving. “Now turn yourself around and climb
those stairs. We’ll soon have this finished properly.”
She looked at him beseechingly, eyes awash with tears. The clear blue of them
shone behind her shame, and it was almost certainly in that moment that Derrick
saw through the thin pretence of his own self-deception, because there was
nothing wanton in the girl to be found. Alice was virtuous in every respect and
horrified by the path her guardian had laid out for them both. But by that
point there was no turning back. His cock was raging to bury itself between the
thighs still concealed by the skirt of her torn gown, and the breasts he longed
to molest with his teeth and tongue bounced immediately before his eyes, as
unmarked and delectable as he had always dreamed. So he did not draw her back
when she turned, defeated, to mount the stairs in her ruined gown and lead the
way to his chamber.
He followed behind her, appreciating the soft lines of her waist and the
shadows cast on her skin by her hair. He could still feel the curls between his
fingers, and the sense memory hardened his cock to an unbearable stiffness. He
was desperate to put it to proper employment in her ruination, never mind
whether or not she had earned it.
Even so, it might do well to cause her doubt in that regard, and he took care
to do so as they entered his bedroom.
“There you see,” he gloated, locking the door behind them, “you hardly
hesitated at all. How long have you hoped that I would bring you here and bend
you to my will?”
She had not once, ever. He saw it in the way her eyes darted fearfully back and
forth between the bed and the readiness of his erection, but he also saw her
upbringing in her humble obedience to his demand. It was charming, the way she
undressed at his order, tearfully baring her body to his open enjoyment.
Every part of her was sweet and tender, from her soft pleas that he would
permit her to stop, to the way she did not even resist when he caught her
around the waist and flung her back onto the bed. She was in every respect a
most desirable woman, and he was about to make her entirely his own.
She landed on her back in the midst of the plushness, curtains hanging from the
posts about them, velvet coverlet yielding to the slightness of her frame, with
her legs splayed helplessly. As she struggled to right herself to some degree,
he drank in the welcome sight of her untried cunt. The soft dark mossy curls,
the pure pink lips that hinted at everything promised within . . . he knelt
between her legs and cupped the treasure almost tenderly.
“There now,” he said kindly, “you see, it is not so bad when you give in, is
it? If you had just been a good girl and told me your faults from the start, it
would not have had to be this way. But you will have your stubborn moments,
won’t you, Alice?”
She looked at him beseechingly as he stroked the pink cuntlips, fingers
exploring all he would soon possess. He tested the dampness of her, a maiden’s
fear not quite equal to woman’s instinct in these matters, and could see as she
started fearfully at the intimate caress that she accepted the futility of
protest at this point, yet her virtue and honest optimism drove her to make a
final plea.
“M-Mister Morrison, please, will you not believe that I have told the truth? I
have not been wanton or loose, I give you my word. I am guided by you and only
you in all things. If you pursue this course, you will be my only ruiner.”
“Well then,” he decided, “there’s one way to know for sure, is there not?
Spread your legs now, Alice, and give me a proper look at you.”
She covered her face and wept into the palms of her hands even as she obeyed.
He was so charmed by this that he did not demand she bare her face; instead he
braced a hand on either side of her, leaning in to take each of her perfect
breasts in his mouth by turns. He suckled and nipped each sweet, perfect tit as
he had longed to do, first laving the nipples with tender kisses and caresses
of the tongue, then punishing them with his teeth, marking the pure white flesh
with scarlet crescents until she begged him, shrilly, brokenly, to stop.
He heeded her pleas in letter if not in spirit, abandoning his vicious
attention to her breasts only to kneel between her thighs and rain tender
kisses on her cunt, so that it slicked and swelled beneath the feather-soft
assault.
Her cries now were not of pain, but of virtue offended, innocence breached.
They were all the lovelier for it.
“Oh!” she cried into her hands, still hiding her gaze from the sight of her own
ruin, but helpless to shield her flesh from the sensation of it. “What are
you—what is it that—”
“Tsk,” he sighed, “look at you my dear. You may cry your innocence but you are
far too hot and ready for me. See this, here?” he traced his finger through the
damp, silken entrance of her most guarded secret. “You cannot hide this from
me. I do believe you are about to spend like a whore.”
“I’m not,” she sobbed, “I couldn’t, I don’t even know how! Please believe me I
could never—oh—ohh—oh!”
Heedless of her protests he had bent forward between her thighs, found the tiny
pearl of her womanhood, taken it between his lips and suckled her remorselessly
to orgasm.
She cried out, helpless beneath the sensation, her dear little cunt clutching
desperately at something it had never contained, hungry for something she could
not comprehend. He gloried in the spend that coated his chin, suckling her down
into frightened, tearful satiation before he at once delivered a remorseless
slap to her cunt.
She cried out again, this time in pain and confusion, but he was merciless in
his lecture.
“There!” he cried. “The very proof of your debauchery. No maiden would have
relished that debasement. I will hear no more of your protests, girl. We will
finish this as you have hoped we would, though you thought you could hide it,
and if you are very fortunate I will not turn you out when we are done.”
There was no further point in protest, of course. Alice could see it, and he
saw that she could. All the same, her lower lip quivered as he guided his
ragingly impatient cock into position, and he saw her long to beg his mercy
though she could not have dreamed that she would find it.
He took a sort of pity on her then, and kissed her cheek fondly.
“My dear,” he said, “just because I will not stop, does not mean I will be
angered if you ask me to.”
“I—I wish you would not,” she whispered, helpless, defeated. “I wish you would
stop.”
“I know,” he whispered back, “but I am afraid there’s no help for it now.” And
driving his hips forward, he made her his own.
She cried out beneath him. She begged him to stop. She entreated him in perfect
humility to spare her. So charmingly plaintive were her cries, he took mercy on
her and was almost gentle in his assault. Unyielding, of course—he was master
in this house, and it would not do to have her forget it—but as he rocked his
hips forward, he did give her a few moments between each thrust to allow her
poor little cunt to adjust to the impossibility of the intruder. She looked up
at him, desperate, beseeching, and he smiled gently as he completed her
ruination.
“There, darling,” he stroked her hair once there was no more of her to yield to
length of him, her virgin’s moist velvet purse stretched agonizingly thin
around the length and girth of him, “you see? You are completed. All is as it
should be.”
She shook her head, tears still trickling away from her eyes, wetting her
temples as she tilted her little chin up to him.
“It hurts so very much, Sir, please—”
“Yes, hush now,” he said absently, “that’s all part of it, you’ll see. It won’t
be so bad soon enough. We’ve just got to acclimate you to it. Like so.”
At this he began a most moderate assault of her newly-plundered treasures,
thrusting far gentler than he would have preferred, so that she was forced to
accustom herself gradually to the invasion. Her plump buttocks he cupped in
each hand, the better to angle her hips toward him for complete access. Though
she cried out softly at the discovery this would increase her discomfort and
force her to accommodate still greater a part of his cock, she did not attempt
to push him off, as she must have known it would do her precious little good.
Instead she blinked woefully up at him, her face flushed even at her own
comparatively modest exertion in this exercise, and made some feeble efforts to
hide her face. These he patiently discouraged, though he did permit her to hide
her shame some little time before brushing her hands aside again and pinching a
nipple or nipping her neck in stern admonishment.
The sturdy bed barely groaned under his assault, though Alice moaned enough for
all three. He did not last long on that first morning with her, and if she had
known then what she would later learn of his stamina she would have been
uncomplainingly grateful of it. He rode her what must have seemed to the
untried girl like a positive eternity, but to him was only the ecstasy of a
minute or two at most before the sweet, tight cunt proved more pleasure than he
could stand, and milked greedily from his generous cock an obscene wealth of
seed.
He spent in her with a low groan even as she wept into his shoulder.
Having taken his full measure of satisfaction he delighted to tarry in the
withdrawal, holding himself and his spend tight within her a few moments
longer, first kissing her lips, her nose, her eyes and the rosy, blushing tips
of those perfect breasts—now wholly his own to fondle whenever he willed it.
For what other man could have her now? She was entirely his conquest.
“There my dear,” he breathed, easing at last from Alice’s poor cunt with
exquisite reluctance and settling onto the bed at her side, “you see? Your cunt
needed that sorely, though you might not have known it yourself! Never fear
darling; that is only natural. It was formed for this very purpose, and I
suppose it was time that you learned.”
She sniffled into her palms, once more hiding her eyes from his gaze. He
stroked her hair for a moment, indulging her pointless modesty a moment or two
before obliging her to uncover her face once more and look on his smile.
“What’s more,” he pointed out, as she clutched the coverlet up around her
nakedness, “in this union I think we have found sufficient proof of your virtue
and fidelity to my will!” He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, petting the
curls there with one hand while the other was happily occupied with stroking
the softer curls far below.
“Sufficient, that is, for now.”
End Notes
     So, you had some pretty damn irresistible prompts! I hope that you
     enjoy the result(s), and accept my apologies for any anachronisms
     that crept in.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!