Venus in the Country

Chapter one

“The girl will have to go, Horace,” Mrs. Rumple declared soundly to her husband. “She's getting ever a healthier appetite and a new dress needed every year. It's all become too much. We can get a cheaper skivvy who will do twice as much housework as she and have her room into the bargain.”

“Yes, my dear,” Horace Rumple agreed sadly. He had no wish to see Pamela go. Now approaching eighteen, she was as lovely a lass as he had ever seen and many a time had given him a fine tingle in his breeches.

At the age of fifteen, Pamela had come into the care of the Rumples, who were considered by one and all in the district to be the most charitable of people. Her parents, it was said, had been lost at sea, her father having been the captain of a fine merchant vessel en route to India. Mrs. Rumple had looked the girl up and down and considered she would make a nice servant to open the door to their guests and to do the housework and all manner of things.

But little by little the good lady had begun to find Pamela a bit highborn in her ways. Not that the sweet girl intended to be. She was quiet by nature and well spoken. Perhaps her accent was a trifle superior to that of her guardians, which upset Mrs. Rumple considerably.

“You must tell her today, Horace, and have done with it.”

“Yes, my dear, but we can scarce put the poor thing out on the street.”

Mrs. Rumple was only waiting to produce her trump card.

“There is no need, Horace. I have made due arrangements. An advertisement in The Times called for a companion. I answered it. I gave them the highest credentials. They are pleased to say that they accept. She may leave tomorrow.”

Horace Rumple gazed across the breakfast table in awe at his good lady. She was ever resourceful and he lived in some fear of her. Had he not, he would have hopped into bed with Pamela ere this. Now he saw his chance. If the girl were to depart tomorrow, she would have little enough time to say anything to Mrs. Rumple about it. As luck would have it, his wife was to attend a social occasion that very afternoon. Beyond the windows of the house the sun shone bright in the garden. In every way it seemed a very fine day, he thought.

“I will attend to all, my dear,” he murmured.

Mrs. Rumple nodded. A clatter came from the hallway where Pamela was dusting. Finishing her tea, the good wife entered the hall and addressed the girl.

“I am to have my hair dressed this morning, Pamela, and I shall not be here for most of the day. Mr. Rumple has some news to impart to you. Attend him now.”

“Yes, Mrs. Rumple.”

Pamela never curtsied, which annoyed her guardian. She would teach the next servant to do so as she believed they all did in the grand houses. Glaring slightly at the lissome suppleness of the girl's figure as Pamela dutifully, made her way to the dining room, Mrs. Rumple attended to her own affairs.

Horace received Pamela graciously. By his reckoning she had grown prettier by the month. Her chestnut locks fell thickly to her shoulders, which-such as he could see of them-were dazzling white. Her nose was neither too long nor too short and perfectly straight, being enhanced by two large, liquid eyes that ever seemed to hold an expression of wonderment. Of moderate height, the incurving of her waist and a certain fullness to her bottom-added to which was some impressive thrusting in her corsage-Pamela presented a picture of considerable allure.

“We-er-have something to discuss, Pamela. I think perhaps if we take a turn in the garden? I rather wanted to look at the summerhouse.”

A trifle surprised, Pamela followed him out. The grass was green and lush on the lawn, and many pretty thoughts came to her as she gazed at the flowers and shrubs. The summerhouse lay at the end of the garden and it was thence that Horace led her, to be well out of sight of his wife. Within all was cosy, for this was in part his private den. The floor was carpeted and a pleasant divan stood in one corner. Next to the divan was a cabinet which-although Mrs. Rumple knew it not-contained a number of saucy photographs of naked and half-naked maidens which her husband secretly collected.

Horace cleared his throat and commenced to impart his news without delay. A look of astonishment and disbelief came over Pamela's lovely features, for she had never expected to leave the house and indeed had given no thought to such a thing despite all the work she had to do there.

“As I understand it from the gentry concerned, Pamela, the house is a fine one, well situated in a most pleasant part of Wiltshire, and your tasks will not be onerous. Indeed, I believe you will not have any housework to do.”

“Oh! And I must leave tomorrow?”

“A conveyance will call for you early, my dear. However, there is one proviso. I needs must examine you before you leave. It was the express wish of Sir Richard Bromley, your new employer.”

“Examine me? Oh, Mr. Rumple, you mean I must t… take my dress off?”

Her guardian's expression assumed a sly but pleased look.

“I do fear so. It will take but a moment. Wait, I will lock the door so that you may not be embarrassed by any disturbance. You wear not too much beneath, I trust?”

“Only my petticoat and stockings, but…”

Pamela's cheeks were rose-pink at the thought of unveiling herself in such a manner, yet at the same time her initial disappointment at the unexpected news was already diminishing. She loved all Nature, and the thought of actually living in the countryside instead of in this stuffy suburb quite enchanted her. Hesitating only a moment, therefore, while turning her back shyly on Mr. Rumple, she unbuttoned the back of her dress and began to raise it.

Horace Rumple held his breath. At first he could see her calves, then the dip of her knees at the back, and then, at last, rising above the tops of her rather coarse stockings, the ivory columns of her thighs. For a moment, he thought that Pamela would not raise the hem of her skirt farther to disclose that which he most longed to see. Valiantly aware that he was waiting, however, Pamela took a deep breath and with a sudden single swoop of her brown dress, cast it off her head and shoulders together with her petticoat.

Except for her stockings and shoes, now, she stood naked-a vision of such wondrous, subtle curves that the buttons of Horace's breeches almost burst thereupon. Her bottom was a perfect peach-its cheeks chubby and full, posed alluringly above the Venus-curves of her legs. Deeply tingling as it already was, his cock swelled up to many times its normal proportions and stood rock-hard.

“And now if you will turn, Pamela.”

Biting her lip, the maiden obeyed, bringing her firm, ripe breasts to his view. Her brown nipples were like small berries and looked particularly succulent, but as much as he wished to dwell on them, Horace's glance fell promptly to her bush. Thickly curled, it presented on its slight mound a delicious triangle, so neatly formed that it almost appeared that Pamela had trimmed it.

The faint blush on Pamela's cheeks added to the allure of her appearance and a quiver of astonishment ran through her as Horace promptly approached her and fell to his knees. Never had he seen such a sinuous, curvaceous creature, her navel a veritable whorl of cream on her silksmooth belly.

“Part your legs, Pamela, I must look properly,” he husked.

Pamela closed her eyes, quite unable to believe that this was really happening. But, never having been out in the world before save when she had first come to the Rumples two and a half years ago, she could only think it was necessary. Shifting her feet apart little by little, she permitted Horace to gaze entranced at the moist lips which parted stickily in their nest of curls.

Horace trembled violently. Slowly his hands rose and slid up the backs of her thighs. The sensation of first feeling her stockings above her knees and then tasting with his fingers the creamy, swelling flesh above almost made him faint. His nostrils twitched at the delicious aroma she exuded. Feeling her quiver at his touch, he tightened his grasp and with an avid hunger pressed his lips up to encounter the juiciness of Pamela's nether mouth.

“AH!” Pamela gasped. Horace's mouth was ravaging her. Indeed, she even felt his tongue glide up within her. It gave her a feeling the like of which she had never known. The jellied cheeks of her bottom trembled as his palms sought upwards to cup them. Her knees bent and she found herself surrendering to the feeling.

Horace licked. It was perfect bliss. The curls massed about her plump mount tickled his nose exquisitely. Delving his tongue upwards, he found by chance rather than skill the sensitive button which immediately erected itself like a tiny penis under his labial caresses. Half-swooning, Pamela jerked and gasped. Her bottom gyrated.

“Oh! Mr. R… R… Rumple!”

“My dear, oh my dear, let me examine you further on the couch. Move back.”

Quite dizzy with delight, Pamela obeyed. The edge of the seat caught the backs of her knees, and she fell back with a small cry that was quickly silenced by a gesture from Horace, who had risen and stood over her.

“We must be quiet, Pamela, and disturb no one. Raise your left leg and let it he along the back of the couch. Let your other leg dangle down to the carpet. I can then examine you better. I have the very instrument with which to do it.”

Pamela thereupon hid her face in her hands, for Horace was doing no less than unfastening his breeches which slid immediately to his ankles. His legs were brawny and muscular, but the biggest muscle presented itself to Pamela in the very moment that she incautiously spread her fingers to peep and Horace raised his shirt.

His penis stood proud as a flagpole, the head rubicund and gleaming. Thick veins knotted themselves along its rigid length. Beneath she could see two hairy balls.

“Oh! Mr. Rumple! Indeed, you mustn't. Oh!”

“It is most necessary, Pamela,” Horace breathed heavily. Lowering himself rapidly, he gave Pamela no time to adjust the position of her legs which her posture had brought wide open. With a little shriek, she received him on her belly and felt his thick drumstick beating a rhythm against her silky skin.

“Wh… wh… what are you doing?”

“Injecting you, my sweet. 'Us very necessary for your long journey. Let me cup your bottom and raise it a little. Ah! what plumpness-what divine cheeks! Can you feel it, Pamela?”

Crushed beneath him, Pamela knew not whether to wrestle or submit. The crest of his charger had slipped backward as he drew her hips up slightly and now it nestled menacingly at the soft entrance to her dell.

“Yes!” Pamela gasped. “I can feel it-but you can't… no, you mustn't… oh, it's going in… Ah!”

Pent up as he was, Horace almost spilled his manly juices in his excitement. Even Mrs. Rumple in her distant youth had never been so sinuous and curved as this, nor so infinitely enticing. As the lips of Pamela's quim yielded, he groaned. She was going to be damned tight, but the journey within would make all worth it. Feeling her fingers clutch protectively at his shoulders, Horace urged his cock as slowly as he could.

Pamela held her breath. It seemed such a monster, but its head was lovely and smooth and the manly grip of his fingers beneath her bottom excited her. Her breath puffed out-too long withheld-as the stiff rod inserted itself three inches and then stayed for a moment. The velvety walls of her slit clung to it. She could feel it throbbing madly.

“Oh! No more, I beg you! What will you inject me with?”

“Sperm, my love-the life-giver. You will feel its vibrant jets, its splashings. You will quiver with desire for more. Lift your right leg and raise it over my buttocks. Twill ease the passage. Ah! another inch! And another! Oh! It is going right in!”

“Ah! No! No! It's too big-take it out! Oooh!”

Pamela's back arched. The meaty shaft was conquering her. Amazed that she could receive so much, she clung more tightly to her rider and bent her knee over him as he instructed. Somehow she found her mouth under Horace's. Timidly at first, but in her rising excitement she parted her lips and felt them crushed passionately beneath his own. Sensing that her tongue had something to do with the matter, she protruded it a little, moaning fretfully as at last his entire cock sheathed itself within her.

Fearful to move again, lest he come, Horace contented himself with pecking on her cherry lips and taking full advantage to feel her bottom and breasts all over. Her little sobs of pleasure and surprise were lovely to hear. His balls pressed to the tight cleft of her bottom. Swimming in wonder, he lowered his head and began to suck upon her nipples which erected themselves like thorns.

How passionate Pamela could prove she was about to discover. Her slit had received all of his cock and clenched as tightly upon it as a baby's mouth. Feeling infinitely wicked, but knowing she must do as she was told, Pamela obeyed his every husked command and began to move her hips sinuously, finding that she could work the mouth of her cunny up and down his prick as she pleased.

The thrill was such that both partners were quickly overtaken by lust. Sucking upon her pointed pink tongue, Horace began to heave his buttocks. He had suspected her often of being a juicy little thing, and now he had full proof of it. Her nipples burned beseechingly beneath his chest, her stocking tops rubbing against his thighs.

“Ah, Pamela! I am fucking you! How delicious!”… t… t… Pamela stuttered as if about to repeat the word. She didn't want him to stop- it was so lovely. Her bottom answered his thrusts with little jerks. The couch creaked. Easing her left leg from beside his own, Pamela joined and crossed it over the other so that they were wound about his waist.

“I shall c… come in a moment!” Horace panted.

“Yes,” Pamela mumbled dizzily. It meant she was going to have her injection, she knew. He had promised that it would come jetting out of his big thing.

Horace groaned and grunted. He marvelled that he had lasted so long in her tight grip, but being ever a generous man, he had wanted her to have her pleasure of the bout. His eyes bulged, his complexion becoming ever ruddier. His balls smacked a fine dance against her bottom with every thrust. Pamela whimpered and clung. The loveliest, most delicious thing had now happened to her twice. It was as if her tummy had melted in liquid fire which had sparkled in her and then erupted in tiny thrilling spurts all over his cock.

“Give it to me-oh, do!”

“P… P… P…!” Horace stuttered, trying to say her name. But already the tingling flood was rising.

“F… f… f…!” Pamela spluttered, trying to say the word he had said. She was melting all over again and, just as she was, a giant shudder took Horace and he impelled the first thick jet of come within her.

“Oh! I can feel it! Do more, more, more! Oh, it's so thick and creamy!”

Clawing at his back and crisscrossing her stockinged legs fiercely, with whirling senses Pamela received her due-the big spouts filling her in such abundance as to soak her completely. Then they began to die away and she clamped more demandingly upon his cock, feeling the last fine spurts until all was done.

Limp, he sank upon her, his mouth buried in her neck. The dreaminess that follows upon such a bout took them in its net and they lay quiet. Pamela continued to signal her pleasure with fond little squeezes around his prick which slowly grew smaller again and finally slipped without. Dreamily she allowed his kisses to smother her face before they finally arose.

“What thighs, what breasts, what a bottom!” Horace murmured and clasped her to him as they stood upright. “I must inject you again, Pamela, before you leave.”

Pamela cast her eyes down. She was more and more convinced that what they had done was very naughty, but it must be true-as Mr. Rumple had said-that she needed it. Softly acquiescing, therefore, she put on her dress again and smoothed it out sedately before they emerged as master and maid into the sunlit garden.

“Mrs. Rumple will not return until five this afternoon, Pamela.”

“No, sir, I know.”

“I will give you a further injection after lunch.”

“Yes, if you will. Shall I have to take my dress off again?”

“It may not be necessary. A very pleasant way of absorbing it is simply to raise your skirt and bend over some convenient piece of furniture such as a table or the arm of a sofa.”

“Oh, but then my bottom would be upward toward you, Mr. Rumple,” Pamela replied. Her eyes were quite warm at the thought of receiving his big syringe again.

“A most convenient posture, my pet,” he answered. He was wondering if he dare tell her that it would also offer alternative routes for his manly piston to take, but just then Mrs. Rumple descended.

“Mr. Rumple has told you the news, Pamela? Good. It will all be much better for you, I am sure. Horace, see to it that she does what she has to.”

“Yes, my dear.”

With Mrs. Rumple's departure, Pamela gazed after her wonderingly. From what she had said, it appeared that she approved of her receiving her injections. It was something all young ladies must have to have, though it surprised her that she had never heard of it before. Venturing to tell Mr. Rumple this while he was fondling her after lunch, she received his comforting smile.

“So it must always be, my dear. 'Tis a strange convention of Society that wishes it done but does not always wish it to be known that it is done.”

“Oh, what a funny idea! However, I shall remember that always! Shall I bend over now? Will you do it in me?”

“Not yet, Pamela, for I have several things to teach you. See how it throbs to release its essence. But first you must take the knob between your pretty lips and let it ease within. Ah! how luscious your mouth! How divinely you suck! There is but one other route for it to take after this, and then you will be truly prepared for your future.”