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

CHAPTER 17

'I have sinned grievously to you', were Papa's first words to me when we were alone. That which is and that which may be cannot be helped'. I answered. I felt as though I had been gone but for a few hours and that all that had passed had been a dream. 'Even so, I acted less than as a man', he murmured, 'putting you to ransom, as I did'. 'Or into harbour? You cannot be both a man and a Papa to me', I answered boldly. 'Can I not?' His eyes coursed up and down my figure as he spoke. I was uncovered in his eyes, my belly yielding, bush displayed. I knew that look then better than I had done previously, thought to my garters- were they tight? I fancied him to lick me like a dog, puffing and panting inbetween my thighs, but that was but a passing thing, a lewdness that we all sustain from time to time with thoughts that come and go fast as the swallows skim the eaves. He made to embrace me, but I stepped away. 'You are angry with me, Emily'. 'No-I am not. Far from it, Papa-the experience was fruitful. Very-yes. A gold ring at my finger cannot bind me, nor can charms of words, pellets or speech nor season's change'. 'You have grown up, I see; I see that, yes'. He looked uncertain, trailed his eyes about, gazing at knick-knacks on my dressing table as though he had never seen them there before, then swept his glance once more around my bottom's curves. I moved it, gave a little wriggle to my hips, felt insouciant and careless in my pose.

'And, pray, what do you think that I have learned, Papa?'

'To be provocative, I see. It suits you well, provided that you keep it veiled'. 'With seeming primness, or with simple charm?

What is your opinion on that matter, Papa-eh?' 'You mock me, Emily, I do believe'. He advanced upon me, arms about my waist. I did not lean my head back to his shoulder, though, or sigh. The window faced me with its open look. The front of his trousers ventured lightly at my bottom's bulge. I shifted just sufficiently to fret his mind, in sweet revenge no doubt, and thought of Jenkins who had also held me thus, his mind a-rage with private fashionings of incest's seeming bliss. The play had stirred me, but reality was otherness.

'Move your bottom slightly, Emily'. 'No-I shall not'. My tone was cool. I wished to giggle and to scream at the same time.

'How proud your bottom and your breasts, my dear!' 'Do you think so, Papa? Really? Actually?' His hands moved upwards from my hips and cupped my breasts. I felt the old, expected tingling and my nipples stirred sufficiently for him to feel them through my dress.

Would he-I wondered-speak as Jenkins spoke? I felt my mind at a distance from my body, as though I then looked down on both of us.

'Now that you are married, Emily…' 'You think that I have become more free for love? Is that what you now think? Oh please now, take your hands away'. 'They feel exquisite-full and ripe, my love'. 'Yes? Really? I expect they do'. I would not place my hands on his to pull them down, and so remained, swaying a trifle as we stood. His fingers sought my buttons, parted them stealthily and yet with a firm touch. 'It is good that we should stand here thus', he said. 'The five acre field, Papa, is it yet ploughed?', I asked. I spoke the words as they came to my head. The larches out beyond dipped branches to the seeking wind. 'I shall need new dresses, bonnets soon', I said. My breasts were free. Full plump and firm he lifted them from my chemise and brought my nipples tingling to his fingertips, groaned softly at the pendent, silky weight. 'Draw your skirt up and hold your legs apart.' 'I do not wish to kiss, Papa'. The thrust was timely, but he took it well. The buds of my titties glowed their ardour to his touch, yet I contained myself within and breathed my breathings with a steady flow. 'Do you not wish to kiss?' He thought perhaps that he had caught the mood of me-that I would turn, be ready to be coaxed. All hinged thereon-which way my mind would turn. Doors opening that we had only tapped upon before. Kneading my nipples, he then dropped his left hand and assailed my skirt. I permitted him to raise it to my thighs. His hand caressed the swelling flesh above my garters and then, feeling up with almost boyish furtiveness, attempted my bare bottom cheeks. I jerked and gritted, 'No, Papa!' Reaching behind, I smacked his hand away. Thereat I wrestled from his grasp, half turned and made to button up my dress, perceiving as I did the hugeness of his member that his trousers outlined, tubular and long. His hands clenched, unclenched, for he saw my eyes drop quickly and then raise themselves again. 'You have to obey me sometime, Emily'. He reached for me.

Again I stepped away and bumped my bottom at the windowsill. 'I do not, no. My name is not Julie, nor is it Jane'. Oh, such temerity! The moment hung between us as a silence fell. My fingers trembled overmuch and I could not restore my dress. My titties, rosy-nippled as they were, bloomed to his sight. 'It is not?', he asked. A hurt passed through his eyes. He had not realised all that I knew. I felt the guilt of my remark, a breaking into other places, other rooms- the trestle and the seeking whip, my sister's bottom bared to him, the lordly penis she could not refuse. And 'No', I said-said 'No', and bit my lip. The door regarded us; the walls were still. 'So be it, then'. His steps were laggard; heavily he moved, touched shoulders with me as he passed. All hung then on what next was to be said-the movement of a hand, flick of an eye. Even a breath, outflowing, taken in. I heard the clock tick. Tick-tock-tick it ticked. Moment of motionless, and no words said. The one who broke the silence would not know the battle's end. 'You would have me in the stable, rather, I suppose', I said-said it to halt him, and I knew I did. 'A married woman needs not such persuasion, Emily'.

He looked far past me, and I far past him. 'Oh? Is that what you think? Is that the truth of it?', I sneered, and felt a blur of tears across my eyes. 'Think? No, that is not what I think, Emily.

Desire is not so much a thought as an explosion in the mind. There… we have talked of it, and it is done'. 'There was not much to talk about'. I huffed my shoulders, felt absurd. 'All men are lewd, at least I have learned that'. 'Indeed you have? A precious lesson, then. And are not females, too, at times?' 'Perhaps. I do not count myself among them, though'. I toed the floor-began to do my buttons up again, but had got no farther than the first than his strong arms enfolded me and bore me down in sideways motion on my bed, hip to my hip, our feet upon the floor. 'Never?', he asked.

Before I could make reply his mouth engaged itself on mine and there remained a long, long moment while his thumb brushed my emergent nipples once again. 'Never?', he repeated. 'Almost never', I said thickly underneath his mouth. His free hand travelled slowly up my thigh, beneath my dress, found the soft stubble of my fur and eased my thighs apart. I made to close them, but he slapped my knees.

'Remain so, Emily. I shall not touch you, though. You understand?' Bleared was my vision and my will was weak.

'Yes', I assented. Then he gathered up my gown in folds and tucked it underneath my bottom, where it stayed, I gazing at him blankly while he did, and so lay in a wanton attitude, bared to my navel and my muff full seen, his shielded prick a-thrum against my thigh. 'Now I may kiss you?' 'No, Papa. You said you would not touch'. 'Yes… well… I keep my promises even as you do.

Remain for a moment-that is all I ask'. He sighed a heavy sigh and rose, gazed once down to the glimmering, curl-nested lips I offered to his sight, then turned away. Unable to prevent myself, I raised a hand. 'Papa, you may kiss me once-but only kiss', I said. He was down beside me in a flash. Mouth melted into mouth;

I felt his tongue. It eased between my teeth. The tips touched, but I did not flinch. His hands encompassed both my shoulders, resting on the quilt. 'Is it not pretty thus?', he asked, lips quivering on my own. He ventured a peck at both my nipples, then returned his mouth to mine. I waited for a movement of his hands. None came. My nipples sparkled from the touch. I said 'Yes' softly, kept my arms alert.

His tongue roamed right across my lips. Re-entering my mouth, it found my own. I fought a dizziness that then obtained, parted my lips more that our tongues might lap. Blurred were our words, soft in the gathering dusk. 'My Emily has her legs apart still-wide apart?'

'You know she has. No-do not touch!' A little panic. I had gripped his wrist. He had not moved it, though, he had not moved. The game was perfect-quite unlike the torrid dreams of Jenkins. His eyes were crinkled and his smile was broad, tinged with a condescension that almost made me giggle at the taut hysteria I felt. 'What?', he asked softly. 'Nothing', I said. I turned my face away, bit in my lower lip and blushed. 'You will not move until the door has closed', he said. I made no sound, but arched my back a little to his drawing lips and felt a shimmering of guilt and love. A broken sob escaped me as he sucked each burning tip, then rose and-walking awkwardly-was gone. I stirred, but then sank back again, placing my hands behind my head. There were dreams to be had here still and I, it seemed, was still the pretty one who had now learned her five-times table but was no worse for that. My heels slipped, but I kept my legs apart and slipped behind the soft doors of the mind into a doze- white clouds, white walls, that ever darker grew, enveloped me and laid my dreams to waste. Through corridors of dark I moved, a ghost within the still awakened world that moved its unheard voices all about.

None came to me. I slept and did not hear the opening of my door, gliding of feet or knees that knelt. My stockinged legs had drooped, were parted all anew and then I felt first ticklings of a tongue that lured its way up, down, between my cunnylips. 'Wh… wh… wh… what?' I woke to find my bottom cupped, half rose on elbows, saw Jane's head between my thighs and grimaced sweetly as she snaked her tongue around my long-awoken spot.

'Shush!', Jane said, raised her head, then dropped it, nose into my muff and licked luxuriously again, I hissing helpless at her wicked toil, twisting my head this way and that and gripping at the quilt's soft folds.

'Hooo! Haaar!', I choked and knew my salty rills to spill in ecstasy upon her tongue-tip of her tongue as she played around my spot and made my bottom heave and work. 'Come on-come on', she husked, warm-flowing breath about my cunnylips. I mewed, I whined, I whimpered, spilled again and left her lips rimed with my tangy salt, the which I tasted as she groped up on the bed and kissed me fondly all about my face. 'We may go to London, dearest-Papa says!'

'What-what?', I blurred. Her tongue swirled round my mouth.

'To London, drowsy-head. Oh, will it not be just the greatest fun?' 'Oh, yes!' The clouds dispersed. 'Oh, yes!', I said again and hugged her close.