tagBDSMAfflictions of Unruly Passion Ch. 00

Afflictions of Unruly Passion Ch. 00

byPhilippaMaQuente©

Author's Note:

This story is the book I currently consider my masterwork. It has been under construction for a handful of years and is the strongest representation of my truest style: Gothic, historical, chock-full of allusions, and deeply, deeply Feminist. If you've been following my other current work in progress here at Literotica, you will see some similar themes between the two books, but though I posted "While Courting Our Demons" first, this book came first. WCoD is actually a piece I started to help me work through some aspects of "Afflictions". I will continue to work on and post "Demons", but this book is actually more true to myself, and overall the dearer to my heart. This book is meant to capture the true beauty of BDSM, and is my own personal fifty shades of revenge.

I do so hope you enjoy it.


*****

PASSION CANNOT BE CURED

Exiled to the serene halls of a luxurious asylum, Valentine Godwin plans on throwing herself into madness out of sheer spite. Once a normal high-born young lady with brains, fortune, and alluring beauty, the woman's wild ways have earned her the scorn of her family and all her suitors. Though many might be cowed by abandonment and the label 'lunatic', Valentine is only made more determined: She will live her life her way, consequences be damned. Still, it's a shame that not a single man she's met has ever fulfilled her deepest fantasies and darkest longings...

IT CAN ONLY BE SLAKED, AGAIN AND AGAIN.

Dr August Blackmore works hard, dedicated to his profession, his patients, and the improvement of his field. If work is all he has to fulfill him, so be it! Until a feisty and bewitchingly lovely woman arrives, drawing all attention and declaring herself free from the yoke of their prude, stuffy society. Valentine stirs the heart, lust, and devilish needs August has long learned to suppress and mourn. They find completion and understanding in each other's arms, and come together in hopes of a future united. Yet, their happiness is threatened by others' malevolence and misdeeds.

WHAT COMES FROM HATE THAT BURNS AS HOT AS LOVE?

In the shadows of good men, evil men dwell, and such a one thrives beneath a guise of usefulness and duty right under August's nose. Valentine's unquenchable lust is as fierce and feral as her rage, and she does not take kindly to wicked men who would harm innocence. With her doctor as ally, she will hunt ruthlessly until she ensures that no scoundrel is left unpunished, even if it means that blood will stain her hands. It is August's solemn duty to keep her from succumbing to the madness that dwells at either end of passion...

*****



A note upon the text:

This novel contains extreme content meant only for adult readers, including physical violence, mental/emotional abuse, discussion of sexual violence, kink play, and BDSM themes.

Though the story is set before BDSM as we understand it truly came to be, this is an era in which the terms 'sadism' and 'masochism' are practically newborn, ultimately to become part of the roots of contemporary BDSM. Sexual desire and exploration were very much an undercurrent of Victorian culture, and such things as erotica, sex toys, condoms, and prostitution were enthusiastically purchased/patronized under the veneers of polite society.

The Feminist movement and the field of Psychology were also rooted and grown at this time, and it is the above combination of factors that lies at the heart of this work. It is a novel chiefly of sexuality, consent, social criticism, and the choices individuals make on the course of and in reaction to their lives. Though historically based, some creative license is implemented.

Kinks represented include: Bondage, sensory deprivation, sensation play, impact play (spanking, flogging, caning), use of dildos, role play, Dominance/submission (24/7), sadism/masochism, oral and anal activity, and 'consensual non-consent' scenarios.


*****

Afflictions of Unruly Passion

by

Philippa MaQuente

For Eros

Father of desire

He who sired godhood unto mortal

In our deepest sighs

The name we cry is his


*****

Dearest Reader-

If you have found this place of stories, you have wandered far

Down wild and twisting paths into the shadows of the human heart.

If you wish to sit, be warned my tale is one of lust, one of rage;

Of love and despair and need, touched by horror.

A chronicle of the extremities hidden in the souls of its personages.

Only the bravest, boldest explorers, willing to examine humanity's ugliest truths and blackest thoughts, can find the story's end.

This is a fairy tale broken, distorted beyond its bounds and made real.

I am the storyteller.

You are welcome to listen as long as you dare.

*****



"RRGHAAAAAAH!" The scream tore a small but airy room apart, and the exhausted woman who unleashed it lay back against her mound of pillows, panting heavily in its wake. A squall of the newborn's cry rent the air as the doctor smacked its tiny bottom, the first breath inspired by the first pain. Outside the door, a father paced restlessly, awaiting the news of whether his wife and new child were both safe and healthy. All of the procedures and methods being used in the birthing were as newfangled as possible, in the style of the Queen's last three child-beds. No more stifling rooms and "lying in". Tools that were cleaned and sterilised for the procedure. Medicine for the labours. Success had never been higher, but it did not make the third-time father any less nervous.

The man, Godfrey, slumped into a chair, pressing his face in his hands. This birth represented (he hoped) the final time he would have to go through the entire ordeal. Conception to birth, it was all a nightmare, in this marriage.

"It's a girl," the doctor told his patient. "Congratulations." The infant was cherubic and healthy, the birth itself relatively uncomplicated. The mother had been given a slight dose of chloroform to dull the pain, and the doctor found no bleeding beyond normal. The woman had already birthed her sons without taking ill, and it did not seem there would be any threat to her life this time either. But she stirred from her languor, even as her babe was washed and wrapped in swaddle. Despite the dulling, dreamy chloroform and sheer exhaustion, she sat up, the doctor's news humming in her brain.

"Give me the child," she said, her voice pitched low. A nurse stepped forward, with the infant settled and freshly bundled.

"Here she is," cooed the nurse. "A pretty little thing she is, all plump and hale!" Once the babe was passed to her mother's arms, the medical staff withdrew. As they cleaned away the equipment and eventually left, the mother raised her child to her breast to begin the ritual of nursing. As she stared down at the infant clumsily suckling while half-asleep, the woman's face was not aglow with giddy happiness. No, she was seething. When she was alone she sneered down at the little parasite who would have to suckle life from her teats until she could be of any use at all.

"What am I going to do with a wretched little girl?" the mother spat. The child, unable to yet comprehend the words or her mother's emotions, sleepily nursed on, quite unperturbed. "I curse you," the woman chanted. "I curse the very milk you suck, I curse every breath you take, I curse you for every minute of my life you drain away for yourself. I curse you to suffer under the yoke of a man you will never love, like me. That's all you're good for."

Godfrey Godwin, informed by the doctor of his new daughter and his wife's condition, paused at her door, terrified of the words he wasn't meant to hear, the struggle to come in the future.

***



Sixteen years from the ugly whispers in the birth-bed, the mother and daughter sat across from each other in their parlour. Both wore stern faces; both were girded for war.

"Mother," the young lady began, her tone all business, "it is obvious you began the campaign for my marriage rather early, and I am sure you have found me... resistant." Her elder said nothing, only glowered. "Well, put yourself at ease. I wish to be married."

A genuine look of surprise stretched the glower and dispelled it.

"You do?" The woman answered. Considering the girl's erratic behavior, she was skeptical. It seemed so improbable that any woman could want... The lady shut her mind and focused. Her daughter, still garbed in her frilly child's style, nodded.

"I think we can come to an agreement," the girl responded. "You send me any and every suitor you want, so I may have a little conversation with each one in private. The one I find the most agreeable will be the one I marry, and you'll never have to see me again." The words were as light and gay as if she were talking of the weather, instead of slyly hinting at the long-standing animosity between them. "We may each get what we want this way. Agreed?"

Lady Godwin sat and mulled the proposal in her mind for a few minutes. She still had a list as long as her arm of names, potential bridegrooms for her insufferable daughter. Surely one of them was bound to satisfy the nasty chit, and she could finally be rid of the girl-child who was never wanted.

"Fine then," her mother said at last. "Expect the first of them by the end of the week." The girl smiled, and it was almost wicked.

"Excellent. Glad we could finally agree on something."

The women went their separate ways, each hoping that they would be the one to get the better end of the bargain.

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