I really was missing the fun I had with Beatrice, Natalie and the boys. I longed to feel a penis in my hand or in my mouth, and a finger in my crotch. I even felt a desire for Madame Thackeray’s whip across my buttocks. Anything to relieve the tedium of the days in that house. I took to locking my bedroom door, throwing off my clothes and lying on my bed or on the carpet beside the fire, playing with my own fanny. I wished I had been able to bring the lovely glass phallus that Madame had loaned us but I had to make do with twisting my clit between a finger and thumb while I pushed the fingers of my other hand up my crack. I writhed in an agony of pleasure as I strived to reach the peak, and wondered if I was going to be denied the release I sought. Nevertheless I usually managed to achieve success and bring myself to a climax. I did have to stifle my usual cries however. After one occasion when I had forgotten myself a maid came knocking on the door asking if I was unwell. I nearly flung the door open to drag her in and ravish her.
My other disappointment was that Bill wasn’t there. I dared not mention his name to Father but I gathered from the groom, a man as old as my father, that Bill was still employed in the stables at our house in the country. I counted off the days until I would be able to see him.
At last Christmas Eve arrived and my father completed his business. Late in the afternoon we set off by train to Reading where we were collected by our own carriage and taken the last few miles to the estate where I had grown up. The evening was taken up by festivities. Carol singers came from the village and, having entertained us, were given mince pies and mulled wine. Father joined in the singing with half a heart. He did not seem pleased that it was Christmas and businesses would be closed for a day or two. I was delighted of course. Many of the villagers I had known since I was a child and they told me all the gossip in return for answering questions about my schooling.
I was quite exhausted when I finally got to my bed but I was determined to be up early on Christmas morning. It was still dark when I wrapped a dressing gown around my nightdress and tiptoed down to the stable yard. I took care not to be seen by the servants in the kitchen who were already preparing the Christmas feast. The air was cold outside and the cobbles were wet and slippery but I hurried into the stables. There were boxes for the horses nearest the entrance. The horses’ heads followed me when I passed by and looked on as I reached the area of the barn where hay was stored. There I saw Bill turning the hay with a fork. He wore a cap and scarf tied around his neck, a leather jerkin and brown corduroy trousers with heavy boots on his feet and he looked just the same as I had been remembering during all my time away from home. The barn was warmer than the outside because of all the animals but still his breath produced wisps of steam.
‘Bill,’ I whispered. He turned and looked at me with surprise.
‘Victoria, what are you doing here?’ I went and stood in front of him, smelling the horses and the hay on his clothes and skin.
‘To see you, Bill. I’ve been waiting for months for this chance to come.’
‘But your father …’
‘In bed. We have a little time before he starts moving. Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘Yes, of course, but after your father discovered us last time, he made life difficult for me. I thought he would dismiss me. Keeping me away from the city was bad enough.’
I stepped closer to him so that I could smell his sweat and he could feel my warmth.
‘It has been a long time. Time for me to think about what you wanted back in the summer.’
‘What I wanted?’ For some reason Bill seemed to have a poor memory of an event that had had such an effect on my life. If Father hadn’t discovered us together I would not have been sent away to complete my education. I would never have gone to the Venus School for Young Ladies, or the Venice School as Father persisted in calling it – I didn’t bother to correct him – and I would never have discovered how to please Bill.
‘Yes, Bill. First you kissed me on the lips.’ I leaned my head forward and stood on tiptoes so that I could place my lips on his. He breathed out gently and the warm, moist air entered my mouth. Still he did not move. ‘Then you placed your hand on my bosom.’ I took hold of his hand and placed it on my left breast. Instinctively he gripped it lightly. The touch after so many days without contact was exquisite and I felt my nipple harden and my heart beat faster. ‘Then I felt a swelling between your legs. It’s happening again now.’ His cheeks flushed but I did indeed feel his cock grow inside his trousers and press against my pelvis.
Before he could respond I knelt at his feet and began to undo the buttons that held his breeches up. The garment quickly dropped to his ankles.
‘Victoria! What are you doing?’ he said in a hoarse whisper.
‘Shh,’ I replied and continued my business. He was wearing an elderly pair of long johns which I soon unbuttoned and tugged down. His manhood sprang to attention once it was released and like a signpost directed itself towards me. I grasped the shaft in my right hand and pulled back the foreskin to reveal the shiny purple head. His balls fit into my cupped left hand and I felt the hard nuts moving in the hairy sac as I gently massaged them. I rubbed my right thumb against the underside of the knob and instantly his thighs trembled and a moan crept from his lips. I smiled to myself. All Madame Thackeray’s teaching had trained me to be able to extend his pleasure and not let him come too soon – but I wanted to see him in ecstasy.
Seeing and holding his tool gave me a warm feeling at the core of my abdomen. I could feel my clit throbbing and a slickness between my legs. My heart beat faster in my bosom.
I stretched out my tongue and touched the end of Bill’s penis. Not only did it look like a ripe plum but the skin also had the texture of a plum. He moaned again with pleasure. I licked all around the hot swollen head, squeezing the shaft so that the hole at the tip gaped open. Bill seemed to be trying to say something but it got lost in his groans. Now I took the end of his penis into my mouth and closed my lips around the shaft. I sucked and moved my hand in rhythm. I knew it would not be long now and I was quite unable to slow down and extend our mutual rapture. My desire was fulfilled when, with a stifled cry, he came and his semen gushed into my mouth like the milk from a cow’s udder. I swallowed every last drop, savouring its flavour. Then at last as his penis shrivelled I released him and sat back on my thighs. I looked at him swaying, almost insensible.
‘There, Bill. Is that what you wanted?’ I got to my feet, ‘I must go now before Father awakens. Merry Christmas,’ I kissed him on the cheek and ran off leaving him still standing with his trousers and underwear lying at his feet.
I got through the day merrily after my morning’s exertions. The memory of his cock in my hand and semen on my tongue sustained me through the day of feasting and tedious games. I was relieved when at last I was able to retire and go to my room alone, but I wanted more. I presumed that Bill would still be in the stables, bedding down the horses or some such chore so I got up and again covered my nightdress with my dressing gown. I took the familiar route to the stables. At this time of night the kitchens were quiet and all the servants seemed to have finished their festive celebrations.
Bill was not in sight when I passed by the horses, and they snickered at me. A single oil lamp cast its dim yellow glow at the rear of the barn. There seemed to be some movement amongst the bales of hay. As I approached I saw what seemed to be two pale moons rising and falling. I rounded a heap of hay and entered a clearing amongst the bales. There a sight met my eyes. The moons were Bill’s bare buttocks heaving up and down between the legs of a scullery maid. I recognised her long dark curls framing her head. She was lying on her back amongst the hay with her skirt and petticoats drawn up and her knees next to her ears. Her feet were pointed to the roof. Bill was naked from the waist down and in the dim light, standing behind them, I could see his balls waving back and forth as he thrust his cock into her. He was grunting with each forward movement and she let out a sigh with each push. A moment later Bill cri
ed, the same cry as I had heard in the morning, and he fell in a heap on top of her. The girl looked past him and saw me standing there but instead of looking surprised she gave me a smile of satisfaction. Some movement or whisper must have told Bill that they were not alone. He twisted his neck to look at me over his shoulder.
‘Victoria!’ I turned and ran from the stables and back to my room. I didn’t want to hear if he had anything more to say.
I lay in bed but did not sleep for hours. I was angry with Bill for not being faithful to me but I was annoyed with myself for having supposed that I was the only object of his affections. The more I thought about our brief contact in the light of the lessons I had learnt from Madame Thackeray and the other girls, I realised that Bill was acting in a typical and predictable fashion. Men sought pleasure and women were available to please them. Marriage and morals may hold an honourable man back from seeking satisfaction but given opportunity and freedom from responsibility any man would take what was offered. I had foolishly presumed that I was the sole recipient of Bill’s desires and that by giving him pleasure I was satisfying his needs. But young men, as I well knew, are almost insatiable in their hunger for orgasm. I, however, was not prepared to share a stable-boy with a lowly servant. I resolved, as Madame Thackeray had taught, to henceforth ensure that any pleasure I provided was on my own terms and intended to achieve whatever goals I set myself. I would leave Bill to his scullery maid and seek my excitement elsewhere.
The following day, being St Stephens Day, saw the gathering for the hunt. Father dressed in his best hunting gear and set off with the other riders. I stayed behind with the other ladies, feeling somewhat tired after my sleepless night. Some commented on my demeanour, which I attributed to over-indulgence on the previous day, but in truth I was in no mood for the public pleasures.
The following morning we travelled back to our London residence as Father was keen to get back to business. I resumed my lonely existence with my fingers providing my only solace. We entertained guests on one or two evenings and attended gatherings at Father’s friends’ houses, but no event gave me occasion for the sport I now sought.
At last the time arrived for me to return to school. I made a show of reluctance to leave the comforts of home and the tender loving care of my father but in truth I was eager to leave. Father travelled with me to Dover and saw me on to the Channel ferry in the company of some acquaintances he had made, but at last I was able to bid him farewell.
The crossing was thankfully calm and swiftly completed, and I boarded the train that would carry me almost to my destination. There was just one other person in my carriage, a gentleman who appeared to be in early middle age. He was smartly and expensively dressed but having greeted me and helped me get settled he sat down with a magazine and said not one word further.
I was intrigued as to what publication could absorb a man to so great an extent. It appeared to be one of the regular cheap booklets that carried serialised novels such as those by Mr Conan Doyle but I could not see its title page clearly as we were sitting at opposite ends of the compartment. I gave the appearance of being deeply interested in my own book, an improving novel by George Elliot, but in truth I was watching this quiet reader. From time to time his breathing became a little more rapid and I noticed a small swelling in the crotch of his trousers. What reading matter, I wondered, could so arouse a man? I desperately wanted to find out what was absorbing his whole attention.
Thankfully, despite the obviously exciting nature of his pastime, the rhythmic swaying of the train encouraged him to nod off to sleep. Shortly he began to snore gently and the magazine fell from his hand. As quietly as I could I moved to pick it up from the floor of the carriage and at once settled back to read. The title of the publication was The Pearl and I quickly discovered the nature of its works of fiction. Each told the tale of a young man and handsome young lady forced, against her will and her upbringing, to service the man, the hero of the story. It turned out that despite her coercion the girl was soon an enthusiastic convert to the pleasures of the flesh and cheerfully engaged in all manner of activities at the behest of her master. In truth I did find some of the descriptions of their amorous engagements somewhat exciting. I was conscious of my nipples hardening and a heat between my legs but I was disappointed that it was the men who determined the course of the adventures. My companion appeared to be a pleasant and well-bred gentleman and not unattractive given his years. I resolved to play a game with him.
I moved as silently as possible to where he sat and then slid onto the floor to kneel at his feet. I reached up to the buttons of his trousers and started to undo them. I had barely got one undone before he stirred. I hurried to undo another before he became fully awake. He opened his eyes and started when he saw me at his feet. I put a finger to my lips and hushed him.
‘Be still; imagine that you are asleep and dreaming of the situations of which you have read.’ I nodded at the magazine which I had placed on the seat but out of his reach. He looked at it and the widening of his eyes showed that he realised that I had been reading it. As I expected he was not an unwilling participant in my little sport. He rested back on the couch and allowed me to continue to undo the buttons. Inside I found more buttons belonging to his undergarments. These buttons were smaller and easier to unfasten. At last my way was clear. I reached inside and found his manhood, crushed and sad, but as I released it from its confinement it began to grow. It unfolded like a flower of the tropics pushing out its pistil to attract a pollinating insect.
To be truthful it did not match in length or girth the magnificent tools of Eric or Hermann or especially Albert, but it was satisfactory for its purpose. Held in my warm hands it soon stood erect and the gentleman looked both astounded and proud of his achievement. Unlike the other penises that I had been witness to there was no foreskin for me to pull back from the livid red knob. I lightly caressed the shaft and the head with my fingers, drawing moans of delight from my subject. Holding the shaft between a finger and thumb and raising it to point to the ceiling of the carriage, I bent my head and nibbled at the testicles in their crinkled bag. Then I licked up the shaft.
He had begun to breathe in short gasps and I realised that despite my skills he may come all too suddenly and I did not want white stains on my clothes. I took the head into my mouth while playing the shaft like an oboe. My fingers danced a merry jig and as I suspected it was not long before he shot a load of creamy spunk into my mouth. I savoured it and licked the circumcised knob clean. He let out a long strangled moan and sank into the seat like a boneless sea creature.
I returned to my seat licking my lips and took a handkerchief from my handbag to dab my cheeks and mouth. Then I sat up and resumed the appearance of reading my book. That my suspicions had been correct gave me significant satisfaction. Given the chance, the subject of my attentions had willingly adhered to my plan and given himself up to my administrations with resulting pleasure for me and himself. I watched the object of my experiment surreptitiously over the top of the pages. It took a few moments for him to recover and then he looked at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. He hurriedly fiddled with the fastenings at his crotch and got into a tremendous muddle with the buttons. At that moment the engine’s whistle blew and we began to slow as the train reached a station. The gentleman got to his feet and collected his bags. As soon as the train was stationary he opened the door and leapt out. I never saw him again but he left his book of erotic tales behind. I put it into my bag before my carriage filled with a family of travellers.
Chapter 7
Victoria Hears Natalie’s Story
It was my first night back at the Venus School for Young Ladies after our long Christmas vacation. Despite being tired after my long journey through a number of the kingdoms, republics and principalities of Europe, I was delighted to see my friend Natalie again. It was snowing, adding to the deep drifts around the school, and it was cold. To keep warm we snuggled up under the blankets of the bed Natalie sh
ared with her room-mate.
After so many weeks alone in my bed at home it was wonderful to feel the warmth of another person close to me and to feel her sweet breath on my neck. Our hands wandered under our night dresses. Each touch of Natalie’s fingers on my thighs, stomach, bosom and buttocks were reassuringly familiar but gave me a thrill as if it were the first time that I had been touched. Her caresses circled the core of my being and when at last she touched me between my legs I trembled and let out a sigh of excitement.
I too fondled Natalie’s slight but delicious body. I played with the prominent nipples in the centre of her small but pert breasts and slid my hands down her side, over her hips and along her thighs before heading for the thicket of pubic hair. Natalie giggled.
While we touched each other and kissed cheeks and necks we recounted the events of our Christmas vacations. I told of my exploits, disappointments and discoveries and then listened as Natalie gave her account of surprising events.
‘I was so pleased to get home to see my mère et père and my five brothers and their wives. They were delighted to see me and showered me with kisses and hugs and presents of fruits and sweetmeats. But, oh, ze house was mad. Full of people, all, how do you say, on top of each other. I did not have a single minute to myself. My bed I shared with my little sister and every time I thought I was alone, the door would fly open and there would be Emilie, Ricard or Michel or someone. After a few days I was feeling quite frustrated not having had a chance to give my fanny a good rubbing. So when my Uncle Pierre invited me to his house on the other side of Paris I jumped at the chance.
‘Uncle Pierre is an old man. He must be at least fifty years of his age and since his wife died lives alone in his big house, except for a few servants. He spends his time making, what is the word? Light pictures? Ah, photographs, you know, Monsieur Daguerre invented the process. Uncle Pierre proposed that I join him for a few days, as his model. He told me in the company of my mother that he was planning a series of pictures on the theme of women of the Bible. My parents agreed to Uncle’s suggestion so, next day, we took a coach to his house.
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