Jane Eyre

by Charlotte Bronte

  I nodded, but in truth I feared I would never utter a word.

  He removed his gentlemen’s garments, and I watched, unable to turn my head. He placed them alongside mine on the briars.

  When I saw him fully unclothed, I was tempted to flee.

  His penis was quite a protrusion, so large and thick. I had touched him previously, but seeing his complete form, I was astounded. “Sir, I am not quite sure what you intend to do with, with that, that—”

  “Penis, Miss Eyre. Manhood, if you prefer. Cock, if you’d like the vulgar. Touch it. Fear not. It’s nothing you have not done before.”

  “I have not done it when you were so spectacularly unclothed, sir.”

  “Spectacular is it?”

  “Do not allow such a big opinion of yourself, sir. Seeing you thus shall not make me swoon.”

  “You wound me mortally, the future Mrs Rochester. I fear now that I shall never be able perform and supply Thornfield with an heir.”

  Despite my brave words, I stood as if I had been rooted in spot. He took a few steps towards me and then closed his hand around mine.

  “Feel my response; notice how thick my cock grows as you touch it.”

  He drew my hand nearer his thickness. I reached out with a fair amount of hesitation and touched him, marvelling at the feel, silk and pulsating steel.

  “And my testicles. Handle them gently until you learn more of what I want.”

  “You will teach me?” I touched his twin sacs and manipulated them. He moaned, but I thought it was not from pain.

  “You are an adept student, miss. Now gingerly tug down on them.”

  I looked to him for confirmation.

  He nodded.

  Encouraged, I held his testicles and gently pulled, feeling them descend.

  Mr Rochester moaned and he closed his hand around mine, stilling any further motion. “It has been a length of time since I have lain with a woman. I fear my forbearance nears an end. Tell me where my cock is going, Jane.”

  I met his eyes. In this moment he was masterful. He was going to have me.

  “In my quim, sir?”

  He curled one hand around mine and moved back and forth. “Feel how my body responds to you. Just as your quim gets damp when I stir you, my cock gets hard.”

  “The tip weeps, sir.”

  “Indeed it does. Taste it.”

  I brushed the end of his manhood with a fingertip and brought it to my lips. “Bitter, sir. And slightly salty.”

  “Distasteful to you, my future wife?”

  “No, sir.”

  Until it eased, I had not realised he had a scowl between his brows. How important my opinion was to Mr Rochester!

  He reached for me and slid his free hand between my legs. After only a few moments, moisture returned. Desire assailed me.

  “I shall not enter you, miss, unless you are this slick. I will ease my entry as much as possible. You shall feel a sharp pain, I am told, but it shall be fleeting.”

  I nodded. Just his words were enough to make me fearful and dry the dampness.

  “Cease your wonderful ministrations, Janet, else I shall endure the humiliation of spilling my seed this very moment.”

  “Truly, sir?”

  “Indeed. The skilful touch of your hand or mouth can excite me that much.”

  Once again, I saw how the master could be mastered. As he instructed, I stopped.

  He surprised me by kneeling on his coat.

  “Come near me, Miss Eyre. Get yourself into the position I instructed earlier.”

  My heart had resumed its frantic beating. I knew not what he was about, and what I guessed, I couldn’t comprehend.

  “Nearer, if you please.”

  “This is unseemly, Mr Rochester.”

  “Do as you’re instructed, miss.”

  He always knew exactly the tone to take with me. This time, he’d been gentle, but firm. Cajoling would not have secured my compliance. A demand would have sent me scurrying for my clothes. He knew me so well it terrified me.

  I did as he said. How odd it was to see him thus and how horrifying that his beloved face was near my naked mound.

  “Remember to keep your hands in place, no matter how great the temptation to do otherwise.”

  I knew I should perish with mortification when he placed his strong hands on the insides of my thighs and spread my inner lips obscenely wide. And then he leant in towards me.

  He did the unthinkable. He used his mouth on me. With his tongue, he teased, kissing me intimately and tantalisingly.

  “Please stop thinking so ferociously,” he said, never looking up at me. “Allow yourself to feel.”

  My master set before me an impossible task!

  But he gave no quarter. Before I knew what was happening, that pleasure began to build as if it were an inferno.

  He touched my tiniest hole; he inserted his tongue inside my womanly opening.

  He ignited me, and even my body’s moisture could not extinguish the flame. He replaced his tongue with a finger, preparing the way for his ultimate penetration. As if from their own volition, my hips moved. I wordlessly sought more. He had asked the impossible when he asked me to keep my hands at the small of my back!

  “Sir!”

  “Nay, my greedy little miss. You shall be temporarily dissuaded.”

  If I hadn’t been so well schooled, I might have stamped my foot to express my displeasure when he pulled away.

  He stood. The entire area between my legs throbbed and ached. I wanted him and the man had to know it.

  I remained in place, anxious but now, too, curious. Fear had been replaced by a deep demand that I intuited only he could assuage.

  As I watched, Mr Rochester went to the briars and removed something from his trouser pocket. “This is a safe,” explained he. “It encompasses the penis so that my seed does not spill inside you.”

  He left me standing there, beneath the stars and clouds and moon as he sat on the bench and placed the safe—which appeared to be made from some sort of membrane—next to him. He stroked himself, and I saw him grow even harder.

  “The night air,” he explained, his lips twisted a bit wryly.

  “Sir?”

  “Sometimes the cold can interfere with my state. In future, a nice warm bed will suffice nicely. Come, Jane, kneel between my legs.”

  I went to him and knelt as instructed. I appreciated that he had placed the coat on the ground.

  “As I fondle your breasts, I wish for you to manipulate your clitoris. Slide your fingers gently inside yourself as I just did, to keep the way prepared for me. I shall not permit embarrassment. Find joy and seize it. This will be memorable for both of us. Under no circumstances will you reach fulfilment. If you sense you are close, you must tell me at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He cupped my breasts. I stroked myself.

  “A bit faster, miss; show a bit more enthusiasm.”

  I did. I shoved aside those judgements that I knew came from society and not from my own convictions.

  Though it was odd to touch myself so, I continued to do so. My master squeezed my breasts; he kneaded them, and he squeezed the tips. My nipples were already tender from his earlier ministrations, so it took little to make them hard and to make me groan with delight.

  “Two fingers inside your body; do it now, Jane.”

  I did as he said.

  “Such a sight!” approved he. “Continue your task as I tie the safe around my cock. Think only of the moment.”

  I craved to close my eyes. Because he had forbade it, I did not. Indeed I was glad I continued to watch. There was something purely masculine about the way Mr Rochester touched himself that made me feel even more feminine, despite my plainness.

  “Come, Jane,” he instructed, extending a hand in my direction.

  “Sir, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “I wish you to sit on my lap, facing me. I will support you as you lower yourself on my cock. Proce
ed at your own pace. You may hold onto my shoulder if you choose.”

  The sight of his manhood held me mesmerised. That growing thing was supposed to go inside me? I felt a cool chill on my skin, one that was not from the night air.

  “Be brave, Jane. You have inserted fingers inside. You have felt how easily you stretch to accommodate girth and length. You shall feel the scald of pain but momentarily. Then you shall feel the bliss of my adoration.”

  I balked.

  My master—how well he knew me—took matters unto himself. He yanked me from my feet and across his knee. Before I knew what he was about, he rained hard spanks on my already blistered behind.

  I yelled out, but his actions had suited his purpose. I was no longer struggling against him or myself. I was again compliant—in fact, I was excited, a fact he noted when he slid a finger in my moist depths.

  “Up with you!”

  I expected him to move right then, but he continued to spank me hard. My legs flailed as I kicked and screamed.

  It was as if he either didn’t hear me or didn’t care for he paid me no mind; he beat me as if I were a naughty bride.

  My body hurt, not only from the spanking, but from the feel of his legs pressing into my belly. Blood had suffused my face! I felt aflame. I was dizzy! When I knew I could not bear one more moment, he righted me then pulled me against his chest. He pinched my bottom, and as I rose up, he lifted me from the ground and had me straddling him in mere moments.

  “Kiss me, Jane.”

  My master gave me not one moment to protest! He steered me with his hand in my hair, making me go where he willed. Said he, “Open!”

  I did, but only to protest his tone. It was all the encouragement he needed! He enslaved my mouth.

  He managed to find my quim with his other hand, and he stirred me again, pressing a finger deep inside. I wriggled, and that allowed him to sneak a second finger next to the first.

  Any protest was swallowed by his kiss.

  I felt a third finger in me. I thought I would go mad from the sensation. But he was correct in saying my body would stretch to accommodate his needs.

  He ended the kiss to say, “You’re to be my bride, my love, Jane.”

  I felt his cockhead at my entrance. My body went rigid. My master stroked my back, pinched my thigh, caressed my clitoris. Impossibly his touch seemed to be everywhere at once.

  I dug my shoes into the ground beneath me, and I wrapped my arms around him.

  “Raise and lower yourself as you will. We shall move at your pace, Jane. Even if it kills me.”

  “It hurts you, sir?”

  “Not being inside you pains me, but I assure you, it’s more mental than physical. I will control myself, this time.”

  I used my pelvis and my legs to raise up and down. I feared I was more coward than anything. I did not want to endure the agony.

  “You’re getting wetter for me,” said he.

  “I am unsure of this, sir. I am not brave.”

  From behind me, he touched my anus and eased into me a bit.

  I was overwhelmed. “Take me,” I told him, the words gritted passed my terror.

  He thrust his hips up, and I felt the barrier of my maidenhead, the slight pressure.

  “Bring yourself lower,” he instructed me.

  I could not endure those final moments, so big did I make them in my mind.

  “You’re thinking too much, Jane.”

  But I stood a little, preventing the entrance he sought.

  “Thorny rose,” he ejaculated. “Yield!”

  He bit the side of my neck. The pain seared and distracted, and I lost my purchase. He lifted his hips at the exact same moment.

  I screamed.

  Breath seemed stolen from my lungs.

  Then after an interminable moment, the pain receded; honestly, it was gone faster than the place he’d bit my neck. Just that fast, it was done. Over.

  He held me tight and soothed me. To me he said, “I’ve done my worst, Miss Eyre. The rest is for your pleasure. Move as you see fit; give over to all the sensations.”

  He cradled me and began an odd rocking motion. I realised this allowed him to thrust and retreat.

  I could hardly believe it, but with the way he tended to me and moved within my quim, a crest began to build.

  “Sir!”

  “This is beyond what I hoped for your first time, Miss Eyre. You are indeed an exquisite find. Thornfield’s own jewel. Take your pleasure!”

  He fingered my clitoris as I rode him.

  Indeed I found my fulfilment! I felt my internal muscles squeeze him as I buried my face in his shoulder.

  He held me for several moments until the paroxysm passed. Then he held my hips in his grip. “I fear I cannot wait any longer, Miss Eyre.”

  I let him guide me. I wanted him to know the same sensations I had experienced. What joy I had found in the union.

  “My seed is ready to spill,” he said.

  “Yes, sir!”

  I felt his penis become even thicker in me.

  I dug my fingers into his hair, and I kissed his mouth.

  His body went rigid. Then he surged upwards.

  I felt him pulse within me. His body had brought him the same joys he had brought me. Heady knowledge, indeed. I have no idea how long we remained in each other’s arms.

  “No longer just friends,” said he after a while. “My bride; my lover.”

  “My master. Your humble servant.”

  He manoeuvred us so that he could look into my eyes. “This is the beginning, Jane. I could never love another as you. Thank you.”

  The night drew on, and my body cooled. Mr Rochester helped me to dress. “You are a fine maid, sir.”

  “Only after I have divested you of your clothing and must see to your modesty!”

  He drained the safe and folded it in a handkerchief. I enjoyed the intimacy of watching him don his garments, as well. It was intimate and appealing. To think, the future lay bright and beckoning at our feet.

  “We must go in,” said Mr Rochester, “the weather changes. I could have been with thee till morning, Jane.”

  And so, thought I, could I with you. I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr Rochester’s shoulder.

  The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house, but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when I gave into the impetuousness of a delight and I giggled with unadulterated joy. This, then, was my fate, to be with a man with whom I could be my full self, as honest in my reactions as in my heart. Reader! What more could I have wanted?

  My master smiled and tightened his hand in my hair. It wasn’t a gentle touch, it was at once commanding. I heard his sharp intake of breath that told me his thoughts were similar to my own. We danced well together he and I and my body responded immediately to his unspoken demands. I became as damp as was my hair! He hadn’t yet released me when Mrs Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr Rochester. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve.

  “Hasten to take off your wet things,” said he, “and before you go, good-night—good-night, my darling!”

  He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. Explanation will do for another time, thought I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every other feeling and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours’ duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of i
t, to ask if I was safe and tranquil, and that was comfort, that was strength for anything. On the third visit, I had a confession to make, although the experience earlier had been the stuff of poets, I was still curious. I wanted to know what it would be like to have him lay with me on a bed. It would keep at bay the fear of the storm. We both knew I was concocting a reason to have him stay; alas, he had fabricated excuses to see to my safety.

  “You know it will not be the traditional way a man lies with a woman.”

  “Sir, I suspect nothing with you is traditional.”

  “Well said, Jane.”

  I waited for him to enter, but he said, “Invite me in, Jane. Or send me back to a lonely existence.”

  As he’d promised, I was always at choice. I made certain no one was about. “Sir, please enter.”

  He did as I bid and threw the bolt. “I’ll have you naked, Jane.”

  The candlelight made his features fierce, or perhaps the ambient light served to enhance his natural looks.

  “Strip.”

  I should have already been accustomed to his brusque manner of addressing me in these moments, but I was always taken slightly aback. It caused a reaction within me, one every bit as powerful as the storm assaulting the manor.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  He drummed the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. Even though we were to be married and even though I had been with him earlier, this seemed more momentous. I undressed and stood before him.

  “Turn slowly.”

  I did so; when I faced him once again, I was aware of his eyes on me.

  “Would that I could keep you gloriously unclothed always, Miss Eyre. Come here and present yourself before me.”

  I was right in my thinking. There was a sternness about Mr Rochester that had previously been absent. That unyielding part of his nature excited me.

  He pointed to a spot on the floor and I went to it. My hair spilled down across my shoulders as I tipped back my head. I parted my legs and folded my hands behind me; the wait for him to say something—to do something—felt interminable.

  Mr Rochester took a step towards me. He had not removed a single garment, making me much more aware of my own nakedness.

  His eyes ever focused on me, he stated, “I am going to hold your breasts, Jane. Then I am going to squeeze them.”