by G A Dazio
She proceeded to find the jar of white cream on her cosmetics table. It was a small black crystal container cut in an octagonal shape with a lid crowned by a crimson orb, weighing a great deal in her small hands. The fragrance of the cream was sweet, like that of wild flowers and jasmine. She rubbed a drop between her fingers to feel the consistency and found it to be smoother than any she had ever come across before. Gathering the washed phallus and cream, Veronica prepared the chaise lounge in her bathroom by covering it with the linens.
She undressed as quickly as possible without the assistance of her maid. It seemed to take forever, removing the strings to her corset that she’d only been wearing for less than a year now. When she was free of the whalebone and other undergarments, Veronica sat down, struggling with the thought of what she was about to attempt.
It terrified her that she had to do this on her own. She felt it could not possibly be such a horrible thing to allow this man to engage in this task, the very thing her aunt had warned her of. She considered allowing it to be done to her, regardless of all her aunt’s reprimands and admonitions.
This was horrible. Veronica felt a sense of nausea as she began to apply the cool satin cream to her labia, feeling the electric sensation when her finger slid across the little nub of flesh there. She rubbed the cream sparingly over herself until she was satisfied that it would be enough. As she rubbed, Veronica told herself to relax, but it felt like the last thing she could ever manage. Nevertheless, the girl massaged herself for minutes and minutes. In time, she began shifting not so much from discomfort but from… was it pleasure? The little nub was slowly becoming pinker and noticeably larger. If this was pleasure, it was different from any she had known. And before she explored it further, Veronica reached for the phallus to cover it with a large dollop of the cream that she soothed evenly around the head and shaft.
Checking that the extra linens were in their place beneath her once more, Veronica exhaled to calm herself as much as she could. She turned the phallus around in her hands and brought its head to the base of her labia.
The sensation of the hard instrument frightened her and she retracted the phallus, but only for a moment. Veronica moved the head around the tiny opening there and gave it a gentle push. She could feel it begin to enter her slowly, stifling a gasp at how much she had to relax merely to accommodate the very head of the instrument to spread her. Sinking more with each breath, Veronica felt the sharp pressure of her hymen stretching. This is it, she thought, and with a deep breath she pushed the phallus in, gasping as the thin wall of flesh tore. Her body jerked of its own accord from the pain and Veronica’s eyes opened, though she did not pull the phallus back.
She stopped a moment, letting the initial sting pass and then proceeded to slide the phallus in a bit deeper. Upon the count of ten, Veronica pulled it out of her to feel the biting sensation again. When it had largely subsided, she brought the phallus back inside of her, rubbing it in an out, initially irritating the sting but eventually soothing it out significantly. After a few minutes, Veronica began to feel comfortable with the phallus inside of her and bravely experimented with the instrument, ascertaining just how much of it she could fit. It was remarkable, she thought, that her body was so limber inside, that she could adjust to such a degree. She began to rub herself again, pushing and pulling the phallus in and out of her. The thing hurt her only a little, and the greater sensations of its invasion sent chills up her spine. In time, Veronica welcomed the sublime feeling that its hard smoothness had concocted.
Looking at the clock, Veronica saw that thirty minutes had passed. She removed the instrument and wiped the small traces of blood from the instrument. Wetting a smaller piece of cloth, she began to clean herself, removing all traces of the lightly pinkened cream that had mostly been absorbed into her skin. She bundled the stained linens and placed them in a waste container hidden from the unsuspecting eye. One last time, she washed herself, seeing to it that she was as clean as possible.
Returning the crystal jar of cream to her cosmetics table, she realized that its scent of wildflowers and jasmine overwhelmed her. She hoped he would like it.
The table clock told her that it was almost eleven and Veronica panicked that she was not quite ready. Her maid had not even bothered to knock tonight, and she expected that her aunt had something to do with this convenient oversight.
The vanity mirror on the cosmetics table flashed from the side of her vision and caught her attention. There, Veronica could see her reflection, her body posing naked. I’m ready, she thought, this would be what he wanted from her. She remained poised before the mirror, letting her hair down. The heavy tresses fell to her back and over her breasts, just barely covering her nipples, giving her a faint tickle that brought her entire body to attention.
Pulling back the covers of her bed, she laid down gracefully, propping a pillow up against the headboard. Drawing the sheer, white curtains along the perimeter of her bed, she sat back to watch and wait for him. In those final moments, the ache was not very noticeable anymore. It seemed almost as if she had not really felt the pain to begin with.
She was ready.
Chapter Eight
At eleven-fifteen, she distinctly heard people walking past her door, going every direction to the many suites on the third floor. She heard the Marquesa and her maid walking alone, as well as Doña de Flores with their daughter. In time, they had all turned in for the night, and the sounds of the servants ascending to the fourth floor eventually quieted. Veronica understood it would be only moments before she would hear the General’s faithful footsteps creeping down the corridor to find her. The anticipation was agonizing and delightful.
A thought struck her, seizing her with concern. What if Father Mateu would somehow find out the secret? He might hear them, being so close to her room. The walls were unfortunately not as thick as she wished they could be, and Veronica feared he might notice. Of course, the thought that any one of a dozen people passing the hallway might be in a better position to hear hadn’t yet mattered to her. But it would be too much of an embarrassment should the Father call on her to seek out the noise, thinking she might be in distress. But all this was too improbable, considering the amount of wine he had consumed at dinner, as well as afterward. Veronica stomped out these concerns and resolved to wait without accommodating a hundred pointless thoughts to distract her.
Twenty minutes passed as she lay there alone, or was it twenty years?
And then she heard the first step. As heavy as she remembered it from last night, it had the same distinct rhythms. He was coming from his suite on the other side of the house and walking down the corridor towards her, as he had last night.
Her heart would burst from her chest if she could not calm herself. This was not the moment to show fear. This should be her moment; something of triumph should come of this night. But it was too much for the girl. The sounds were now too close for any further preparations, and Veronica simply held her breath as the steps fell before her door.
Without falling from their march, the steps passed her outer door in pursuit of what she now realized must be her aunt’s suite. He had passed her up to first be with Marcelina and left the girl there to suffer further anticipation.
Veronica all but jumped up to rise from the bed, flinging the bed curtains to cross into the outer drawing room, and stood naked before the door, her eyes closed, listening for any sound or indication that he might return. She heard none. She observed the door once more, studying the crevices of the gilded frame and the minor light coming through the key hole.
Her mind raced to find an answer. Of the thousand excuses she chose to entertain, the idea dawned on her that Marcelina might not yet have asked him; the woman might have been waiting all evening for a moment to explain the plan. But as she attempted to convince herself of this, the basis for her reasoning failed to materialize, and the possibility of such a hindrance seemed worthless. A tremendous amount of time had passed, after all, in which s
he could have commanded him. Marcelina was not the type of person to wait upon the settling of other people’s moods, lovers or no.
She returned to the sheets of the bed and drew the sheer curtains to enclose herself again, as if the flimsy fabric wall of the bed frame might guard her in a fortress of contemplation where questions could be answered. The clock on her dresser chimed. It was already thirty minutes past the hour and Veronica realized that too much time had passed. The tick of the silver antique failed to strike through her fog of thoughts.
Veronica heard a door creak open in the hallway, and within seconds there was the sound of her door swinging on its hinges.
In the dim light, her mouth opened in disbelief to see Father Mateu’s head peer forward. She absolutely did not understand why he had come to her room, but it occurred to her that he might have learned of Marcelina’s plans and terror seized every portion of her body. However, Father Mateu said nothing as he closed and locked the interior door behind him. The nakedness of her body grew warm with shame under the bed covers, which she tightly grasped up over her breasts. She dared not say a word, though her eyes could not be forced from his gaze.
On the other side of her bed, he paused, then began to disrobe. She watched now in utter fascination, still not completely sure of why he would do such a thing. He removed his robe, the black cassock he wore so handsomely. She was struck dumb to look upon his naked body as he stood there, taking such delicate pains to fold and lay his clothing gently on the chair of her vanity. And he had such a beautiful body. It was not large or brooding, but rather lean and compact, revealing a very handsome torso that was devoid of the embellishment that male statues all seemed to rely on to achieve a godly effect. He did not have that absurd appendage between his legs like Don de Flores, but rather a much more believable version, much less of a burden, it seemed, which she entertained might be easier to embrace with the minor soreness she still felt. And becoming aware of her own thoughts in that moment, Veronica finally comprehended what was to happen.
The priest glanced at her again, standing still for a moment, holding his gaze upon her one last time before he gently moved around the bed to sit down upon the edge, pushing back the curtains to see her eyes. He placed his hands upon her leg, hidden under the covers, and she jumped a bit, startled by his touch. Until now, she had fancied him some sort of bizarre apparition that wouldn’t be able to contact her physically. But these stupid fancies were at fault now as he gently stroked her hidden legs. His hands slowly made their way to her breasts, practically thrust outward to meet his touch with the push of her startled inhale. She did not understand her actions, she knew only that it could not be helped. The desire to have them held in his hands was overwhelming. She so desperately wanted the power to touch and explore his body but was rendered lame by his control of her. And she allowed the Father to touch her at his will.
His delicate hands, so gracefully aquiline, brushed her locks away from her small breasts and reached behind her neck to pull her up to him. His lips touched hers, inventing a mad heat that swept from his mouth through her entire body. The sublime pressure of his lips was delightful, relentless, and she felt them open to release his tongue, which Veronica hopelessly opened to receive. A sensation of yearning overwhelmed the girl that she could neither understand nor withdraw from. He kissed her for several moments before he gently pulled back the covers to expose her naked body lying warm and awakened. She closed her eyes as he carefully brought his mouth down to taste her body, starting from her lower neck and falling down towards her breasts, which slightly rose again to meet him. Veronica felt the burning heat in them as his mouth opened to suck her nipples, pulling them into himself and devouring them. The rough stroking of his light beard and soft wetness of his velvet tongue fought each other for dominance over her senses. He spent so much time, she thought, attached to her like a child at its mother, devouring them until there was nothing she could do to keep from vocalizing her joy in a stifled yelp.
This initially brought a startled look from him, only to be tempered by a smile at the honest reaction she was unable to suppress. He adored her all the more for it.
Gathering his focus again, he slowly resumed his consumption, his tasting of her body, her stomach, her navel. Veronica enjoyed the delicious texture of his stubbled upper lip, darting back and forth between her breasts and their light scarlet-ringed nipples. She moved her body to a jagged rhythm against his mouth as he brought his lips between her legs, where he used his tongue to soothe that hard little nugget shamelessly, manipulating it to produce an uncontrollable reaction in her. Indeed, his touch produced such a violent spasm in Veronica that she was not entirely certain he should be allowed to continue. With defeated resignation that such logic was useless, she understood that there would be no stopping him now. He had lost himself in his own passion and continued to knead her body in spite of her hesitation.
Father Mateu rubbed the girl harder and, feeling that she was wet there now, bestowed himself even greater focus of purpose. Impassioned by the smooth dampness, he rubbed harder and harder until his finger slid effortlessly inside her, producing an entirely different sensation, a triumph of pleasure focused in her legs and spine. Her entire body now rocked in time with his hand.
Veronica loved it, everything that he was doing to her, and she lost herself in her rocking until he pulled his finger out and bent down to bring his face to her nether mouth again. He was almost violent in the way he tasted her now, engorging her sex with his hot breath and tongue, lapping at her like a hungry feline at its cream. He licked furiously at her hard little nugget, and Veronica found her way into a state of orgasm that paralyzed every limb of her body. The sensation occluded her vision completely, sending her mind to leave the room and sharply sweep above the moonlit clouds, finding the heavens all too small in their infinite space for her to travel very long. Veronica was lost and she shuddered with the uncontrollable hot spasms, her body tensing and then releasing over and over with the most indescribably lovely pleasure she had ever felt.
After a moment or so, when her breathing had returned to a more normal pace, he brought himself up to lay upon her, his abdomen falling between her legs. The delicious weight of his lean body joined with the brilliant joy of his suckling her breasts again, which quickly became too much for her to endure without moaning out in happiness. His mouth came to hers and his tongue fell in and out of her as he gently moved between her legs, positioning himself to enter her. The heat generating from her body was tremendous and Veronica began to perspire all over.
She felt him slide his hard organ inside of her, and a high-pitched squeal escaped her lips as the pleasure of it intermingled with the lightest soreness there. He pushed now, throbbing in and out of her, and she felt her hips rocking up to meet him, pushing back in turn so that his manhood might venture even deeper into the girl and find a way to fill her more than he physically could.
She loved all of this. Not a moment passed within these few minutes when she thought of where she was or who she was with. All she understood was the pleasure in her body, and it was enough to overwhelm her senses so that nothing of reality might intrude.
Then, in what felt like an acute explosion within her back and mind, she came again in hard spasms, which seemingly lasted forever before ending abruptly as the priest pulled out of her and gripped his organ. As the remaining drive of his rhythm locked in seizures, he shot his warm seed onto her stomach and chest with strong blasts before a visible fatigue overcame him. When gravity finally collapsed Father Mateu’s body down upon her, his labored breath began to resolve itself, as well.
He carefully moved off her and turned over onto his back, his spent body still deathly hot beside her in the bed. Veronica heard him whisper beautiful things to her as his breath evened, but she would remember nothing of them in the future. All that could remain in her mind now was the exquisite sense of content, of being spent, while even more awake and enlivened, and with it the wonderful delight of
being completely unafraid. She was amazed.
As the minutes passed and the sweat dried, inviting chills to cool their bodies, Veronica at last felt her faculties returning to her. At that very moment, the priest began to move and sit up in the bed. Slowly, without the slightest fanfare, he lifted himself to the floor and began to replace his clothing. When he was dressed as before, he came around the bedpost to the motionless girl and bent to kiss her good night. It was another of his wet, impassioned kisses and she lay powerlessly still, receiving them as she felt she must, wanting it all over again. With his farewells suddenly at an end, he quietly left her room, opening and closing her door without the slightest sound.
She remained there with only the discordant ticking of her clock to cut through the silence, helping Veronica to concentrate and find the strength to sit up and regain her focus.
Upon pulling back the heavy drapery from her window, the sight of the moon still blazing over the castle returned her mind to the earth. All at once, the sounds and cries of the night grounded her and she understood what she had done. More importantly, she understood who she had done it with, and, even more to the point, that it was over. This clarity of the moment sent her speedily to find her nightgown and steal silently to her aunt’s bedroom.