Emily: Or, the voluptuous delights of a once-innocent young lady

CHAPTER 15

I did not stay, although she coaxed me to. Her husband would return. I did not wish to meet him then, nor ever perhaps again. The youth had fucked her while I watched-a wriggling fish upon her belly as he worked and cried his little cries of joy, prick moving back and forth within her quim, clawing at her plump bottom as he did. Not long after we had dressed, repaired ourselves, a carriage came. A lady sat within. I saw her face but mistily. The boy ran out and clambered in, she giving an imperious wave and then was gone. 'She does not mind? How curious', said I. 'The minds of those we do not know are even more curious than ours, my dear. She regards me as his wet-nurse, I believe', she laughed, then asked me much about myself, though cautiously and with discretion that I valued. Thus I took to her the more. Several adventures of her own she told me. All were lewd, and yet not spoken with crude tongue. I told her how Papa had found me with my drawers down, and she laughed. 'He is to be complimented much upon his taste. You are less bold than Myrtle or the other one', she said, for I had given Jane's name so. 'He was almost bold with me. Not quite. I wondered at it, at the time'. I ventured, and she read the question in my eyes.

'Almost is tenderness. Remember that. And should you ever come to it again…

'I won't', I said too quickly, and she shook her head.

'Betwixt tenderness and boldness is a pleasant path, Emily. Men grapple with one sometimes, force one over. In particular in youth they do, and gain the measure of your bottom or your slit, sometimes by forcing, sometimes wheedling in a foolish way-or sometimes after birching one. Many a girl has flowered upon an urgent cock that way, and is no worse for it. Once it is done, it's done. There come the heaving sighs, the pants-the sperm releases and the honeypot receives.

Remember how I told you… up against the wall? It teased both him and me, my drawers-yes, drawers!- down to my knees, my thighs not quite apart as he had wished, my dress held up just like a little girl who's made to show for the first time. Awkward it was, yet thrilling-I can tell you that. His nose was thrust between my breasts. I held him tightly as he came. Afterwards I scolded him, for that is what he really likes, and looks most mournful till you cuddle him again'.

I listened fascinated to her words. They led me also into corridors of thought beyond my own-into the heads of others, so to speak. One thinks of one's own pleasures mainly, not of others. That's the pity of world, though pleasures must be mutual, of course. I said such to her, and she gave as much thought to my words as I had to hers. 'There are many ways to reach the peaks of pleasure, Emily.

I thought it very naughty when my uncle made me raise my skirts, wanted to close my legs and hide myself. In the first moment that he put his cock to me, I felt a terror and would have resisted had he not been implacable and held my hips so tightly while he urged it up.

Pleasure does not come at the first touch always. I mean, at the first touch to mind or body-don't you see?' 'Jane… I mean, Myrtle… she was whipped', I said. I said it to provoke; I knew I did.

'Jane is her real name? Good. I'm glad you told me that. I know both your names now. Yes, mine is Elizabeth! If Jane were whipped then I have no doubt she needed it, within herself I mean. Girls sometimes must be made to do that which they never otherwise would do. Boys, too, occasionally!', she laughed, and told me how her brother had been spanked when they were young and how his prick had got quite stiff until their governess had teased him off and made him spurt across her stocking tops. 'Well-you have all my secrets now', I said, and rose to go. 'I have gathered all the roses from your mind… and the buds, too?', she teased. 'Come to me whenever you have a problem, Emily. I promise you that I will do the same'. 'Oh, but I do not know enough to counsel you!' 'You know more than you think, my pet. Dwell on the moment that my husband mounted you. You did not quaver, howl or kick. Quite properly you took his prick. Dwell on the moment when you refused your tastings, and quite properly. 'Twas clever of you, that, and made you even more desirable in such eyes as would have uncovered your sweet thighs and bottom. Dwell on the moment when your Papa found you with your drawers down and should have swept his hand up underneath your skirt'. 'Oh! Elizabeth!', I gasped.

'Oho! You had not thought of it before?', she teased, and with a fond kiss I departed. Dear Elizabeth-she could say almost anything to me, and never raised my hackles ever once. Scarce had my carriage gone a mile than the horses began to slow and I looked out, gliding my window down to see why we were stopping. There, ahead, sat Jenkins on a horse, his hand held up. Wheeling his steed, he came alongside and looked down on my enquiring face. 'A fair day, Miss'. 'You followed me', I said and was about to tell my driver to go on when Jenkins leaned down from his horse and held the windowsill.

'Forgive me-for you know the truth of my identity, I know. I wished but to apologise'. 'Oh? Why to me? Am I the fairest of them all?', I sneered. 'You have the softest voice, the loveliest of limbs. Fairest of form and face you are indeed-and I your servitor, your true one now. Pray, will you not take tea with me, or something a trifle stronger, wine perhaps? My house…' 'I do not wish…' I halted back my words, conserved my smile. 'I am expected back', I said, and thought that for a silly thing to say. It meant that someone other was directing me. I did not wish to be seen to be in his eyes, nor any other man's. -'A half an hour. That is all that I will allow you', I then said, and half despite myself. My bottom tingled just a little still from the boy's prick, or else my imagination made me think it so. 'Thank you. A thousand thanks! Then I will lead the coachman. It is but a short ride on from here. A half an hour in heaven will be worth a year on earth', he said, but looked more timourous than pleased, the actor in him or the hidden man emerging.

Both, perhaps. I was thankful that we did not have to speak again during the interval that passed, the hedges flashing green beneath my eyes, my consciousness of him upon the saddle, broad. And that enormous… No… I should not dwell on that, I thought-but not to dwell on something is, as Papa has since said to me, like having a monkey on one's shoulder that one wishes to ignore, but cannot for it moves this way and that and makes its presence ever felt.

Charles. I would call him Charles, in a cold tone. Would sit, cup held, and little finger curled, would act Miss Prim and put him off his sport…

Such were my ponderings, and yet how hard it is to put on a face, a voice, one does not have. The mind moves on to neutral ground and waits, as mine did on arrival. A fair mansion was it, lying back in its own acres. Over a hundred, as he told me proudly over tea. I had insisted on the tea. Wine would have meant conviviality. The drawing room was plain-had little of a woman's touch. Among the likenessess upon the mantelpiece I saw one of two girls and asked, as coyly as I might, were these his daughters? 'Yes', he said, I biting back a smile, for Aramintha had not told him all. 'They are pretty-very pretty'. I got up to look at them, and heard him move as I expected, coming up behind me till my bottom nestled to his loins. 'No more than you-the fairest of the three', said he. I squeezed my eyes up tight, then opened them, but did not turn my head.

'Mama is still away?', I asked, and heard the catching of his breath. The room was still, the room was still. 'Yes', he said thickly, palmed my hips and felt their curves. 'For long?', I asked-a catch in my own voice. He could not breathe-I swear he could not breathe. I felt the tautness of his chest, the stirrings of his penis through his trouser cloth. 'For long enough to bed you as I wish, my dear, my dearest little pet', he husked and with that groaned and cupped my bulbing tits, feeling the flesh warm through my thin grey gown. I drooped my head and stood as one forlorn.

'I want to see Mama. Oh, Papa, you must not', I whined. My nipples budded to his fingers then, already stiffened to his fingers.

'I beg you to stand still a moment thus, letting me hold your breasts, my sweet-I beg you to. Ah-press your darling bottom in. Can you not feel-can you not feel my…' 'No! Oh no! Oh no, it's rude, Papa. If Mama came…' I burst from him, spun past his shoulder and sat down again in a deep chair and covered up my face. 'She will not-that I swear!' He fell upon his knees and clasped my own. I clipped my thighs together and then peeped between face-cupping fingers. Timidly he moved my dress up almost to my knees, then stopped. 'She may', I mumbled. Suddenly I sensed the subtle invitations that he needed-read the words that haunted his dark eyes. -'She would find you kissing me', I said, 'and putting your hand up where you did before, trying to pull my drawers down-yes-you know you did. I was all a-tremble, knew not what to do'. 'Before she came, or after?' 'Both'. I bit my lip and lowered both my hands, gazing as if in frozen embarrassment as he eased his hands up far beneath my skirt and laid them gently on my silky thighs. 'Don't, Papa, no', I said between clenched teeth, yet did not make to thrust his hands away. 'Just open them, my love, and let me see your furry treasure.' 'No, no, Papa! You dare! What wicked things you say! Mama! Oh, don't!', I squealed. To my astonishment he then fell back, half fallen on his hip, restored himself, but stayed upon his knees, his prick a massive bulge beneath his cloth. A sob escaped him and he covered up his face. His sobs were real; I sensed them to be so and sat bemused. His shoulders shook. Real tears ran down his face. 'Oh, Papa, don't', I murmured and leaned forward then and touched his head-felt timourous and quite dismayed. His hands fell slowly from his face. A teardrop glistened just beside his mouth.

'I cannot help myself, he moaned, and looked most piteous, I thought. I stared for a long moment in his eyes, gathered myself and plucked at my half-raised skirt as if I knew not whether to raise it or to push it down. 'Papa, you may kiss me if you really want', I said, and said it in the voice of some sweet simpleton whose garters he could almost see from down below. Indeed, I saw his eyes go there and moved my legs a little, parting them. 'And touch you?

May I touch you inbetween?' 'Oh, Papa, I don't know, I… AAAH!'

He was half risen, on me in a flash. One hand swooped up between my open legs and cupped my nest, his mouth aflame on mine. I spluttered, as he wished, and beat his shoulders, but he held me down, elbowed my knees apart the more and, with deep-seeking tongue within my mouth, he found my spot and twiddled it. I snorted, snuffled, whimpered to his mouth. His digit entered inbetween my lovelips, found them moist. 'Come on the floor, my love'. 'No, no-oh, NO!'

One wailing cry and I had tumbled down, he throwing up my skirts above my hips, baring my bottom to the waiting floor while, heavy in girth, he got between my thighs and worked with desperation at his trouser buttons. I shrieked, I moaned-I turned my face this way and that, his knuckles pressed against my milky skin, fumbling and feeling underneath himself until his enormous penis burgeoned out and brought its crest to quiver at my nest. 'NA-HAAAR!', I squealed.

I kicked my legs, but raised them as I did so, which enabled him to sleek his knob between my pouting lips and drive the shaft within with lone long thrust that pinned me like a stricken butterfly. 'HAR!

Oh my god, my sweet, my darling daughter, I am in you now. What a soft, furry, oily nest you have!' 'T… t… take it out, Papa!

Oh-WOH!' Feebly I beat at him and would not take his mouth, twisting my own up with an anguished look, holding a wild look in my eyes that must have seemed to him so real. 'I shall hold you down, my love, until you do', he groaned. His great thick penis did not move. It throbbed superbly in my silken grip. 'Won't, won't!', I sobbed. 'Give me your mouth, my darling, do-a little moment only-then I'll take it out'. One finger in my mouth-oh artful touch!-and face averted underneath his own, I uttered still my little sobs, then let my expression take on a broody look, his own a cloud of anxious lust. With tenderness he slowly drew my finger from my mouth. I did not move then, waited for his own to touch the corner of my lips, and felt the most exquisite thrill. 'Oh, Papa!'

'Just one little kiss, my sweet'. 'You p… p… promise me, Papa?' Lips buzzed against each other's as we spoke. 'Open your mouth more. Bring it under mine and let our tongues touch, darling'.

'N… n… n… no, I mustn't… Naughty… Please, Papa…

Haaar-oooh!' A savagery possessed him then. His mouth mashed to my own, his forearms thrust beneath my thighs, hands strong and urgent underneath my bottom cheeks-the two halves of my apple on his palms.

His cock sucked out, thrust in again, ploughing my furrow with a will as if indeed to ram his message home, I flooding sobs and moans into his mouth. 'You beauty-AH! You're coming over Papa's prick', he mouthed, feeling my tingling spurts glide down his prick. 'Yes, no! Oh, I can't help myself! You mustn't, mustn't, mustn't…Oooh yes, OOOH!' 'My little love, my pet, my dove, your cunt is taking Papa's cock at last. Do you not like it? Say you do!' 'Yes, Papa, yes-oh, do it more!' Impassioned were my arms about his neck. My legs coiled up as they had done before, crossed round his waist, and clinging like a child. His moans beseeched my tongue to be more lewd. -'Cock in my cunt, Papa, oh yes!' But I was drifting, drifting out away from all such childish nonsense as his piston worked, oiled by the salutations he received. Mouth open wide, I let him suck upon my tongue and surged my hips as hungrily as his, slap-smack of testicles beneath my globe. 'Ask me to fuck you, darling-quickly-say!'

Oh, by what rote man brings himself to final pleasure thus! The words are but as cymbals to the violin that plays more sweetly inbetween one's thighs. Each clash of brass brings the crescendo near.

And yet the bubblings of saliva twixt our mouths, the shunting of his prick in my tight sheath, the animality of hot desire, brought me to answer him in kind. 'Fuck, fuck, Papa… Oh, do it to me, yes! I want to feel you come, I want to feel!' The trigger was thus pressed. I wondered if he knew in his mad-whirling thoughts who was beneath him, yet in turn I cared not in that moment who was on me, for the bliss was paramount. In huge great jerks he came, white floods of sperm that jetted up and splashed against my walls, I moaning endlessly to him to do it more and more and more and more… until we sank exhausted, quivering, and I beneath him crushed, my legs down straight and splayed out wide on either side of his. There were no kisses then. He hid his face into my shoulder. I resisted stroking him but merely lay quiescent underneath as though regret were seeping into me. Once more, my face averted, I lay quiet. 'Angel, my angel', came his whisper, but I did not stir. 'Papa, get off me, do-oh please! Ugh! What a horrid mess it makes', I murmured as if awakening from a dream. I made to close my legs, but when they touched his trousers opened them again as if disdain had seized me, or regret.

'I have creamed your cunny, pet, at last. You have more curls there than I thought you have. Your bottom is a dream of bliss, so firm, resilient and bold. How long have I watched it wriggle underneath your gowns'. His voice was broken, weaker than it was before. The flag was limp but still the battle moved. 'You m… m… mustn't talk to me like that. I'll tell Mama, I will. You're hurting me! I cannot breathe! Oh, please, Papa!' His cock slipped out from my engaging lovemouth, dripped its pearls upon my thigh.

Crouched over me, he turned by force my chin to meet his gaze. My own was cold and distant, though. He read there all he wished to see, I knew. The game had to be renewed, and ever on. 'You will not tell her, dear. I beg you not'. He lumbered up, his thick prick dangling down as though to display it hopefully to me. I covered up myself then in a flash and scrambled to my feet in turn. For a long moment I gave him my most woeful look. 'Promise you won't again', I said. His face looked haggard, like a battle field when all the guns have ceased to fire and dusk falls on the bodies where they lie. 'I promise, yes; I'll try', he mumbled, woebegone. A silence fell. We gazed each other out, and then eyes fell. The carpet was a dark pool of eternity. His purplish knob, still big, was pendant, sticky with our spendings-the rude witness of the deed. I felt my cunny pulse with longing still. I dragged my feet and stopped. Shoulder to shoulder almost, and the moment held. 'What will you do now?', he placated, voice a-tremble as he spoke. 'I have to go out, Papa-to see my friends. You know I do'. 'Yes, yes, of course'. The hour was limp, as was his prick. He tucked it in again beneath his cloth.

Guilt hung on him like a rent flag. One look from me would turn it to desire again. And, knowing that, I knew not how to look or where to turn. The play was over and the act was done. 'What time shall you be back?' 'I do not know'. I did not look at him; I toed the floor, showed my uncertainty as best I could. 'Long before bedtime though, Papa', I ventured, turned my head away and tried to blush.

His hand touched mine. I let my wrist go limp, and did not turn my fingertips to his, but even so he sought them, found them, touched.

'Does not your cunny tingle still?', he asked. His words burst out, without control. 'Pa-PA! I… OH!' He spun me, held me crushed to him, groped down beneath my bottom cheeks and raised me struggling on tiptoe. 'Tonight! You hear me? Or I'll bring the strap to you, my girl'. He raised my chin and gripped it painfully, and forced me to look up into his eyes. My own showed anguish mingled with desire. 'You wouldn't, Papa! No-oh, please! Oh, not that horrid strap again! It burns me and you know it does'. 'And to what purpose-eh? Now, answer me!' 'To, to, to make me let you'.

'Well?' 'Oh, please, Papa-I have to go. Don't crush me so'.

'The strap or cock, then-which is it to be? I will have no further nonsense from you now'. 'Yes-yes-all right!'

'Come-say it clear; I wish to hear you say'. 'You're h… h… hurting me, Papa. Yes, yes, all right!' His grip had slackened and I pressed away, stepped back from him and gathered up my hat and reticule. 'What?', he demanded. I put my bonnet on all in a rush, my fingers trembling visibly. The bizarre occurrence had begun to take on a near reality. 'Wh… what you said'. I giggled it and choked at the same time, rushed to the door and sped along the hall. 'My love!', he called, but I was gone, was gone, my driver starting up as I appeared, and brushing cobwebs from his eyes. He raised his whip in readiness. I smiled at him and tumbled in. He little knew the gesture he had made.