“You don’t have to,” David said in a low voice.
“I know,” Elizabeth said, and then she leaned forward and pressed her plump lips against the head of his penis, kissing it. She looked up to him, and he smiled down to her, and then she opened her mouth, and let him inside.
She was so virginal, so new, that though she didn’t know what to do exactly, he had never felt a woman feel so good, no matter how he entered into her sexually. She took more of him into her mouth, and then she would pull back, leaving a slick sheen to shine in the soft moonlight.
David put a hand on the back of her head, helping guide her as she bobbed back and forth. He couldn’t help himself, and it didn’t take him long until he reached climax. He knew many girls didn’t appreciate the taste of semen, so as he came he pulled his hips back, and he shot three long strands of thick white semen onto her exposed breasts.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the girl, and becoming keenly aware of just how untouched she had been.
“Do not be,” she said, looking down at her own chest. When she looked up, he had already pushed himself back into his breeches, and was backing towards the window.
“Take me for a walk tomorrow,” she said as he left, and he nodded.
*****
David called on Elizabeth just after lunch, and they walked on her father’s grounds, arm in arm.
“Last night was like nothing I had ever felt,” she said, when they were well away from the house, and any ears which might overhear them.
“I can say the same,” David said.
That made Elizabeth laugh. “I doubt that was the first time a woman has done that to you.”
“Well, I didn’t mean it exactly like that,” David said truthfully. “I mean it was like nothing I’d ever felt.”
They walked in silence for a moment. Near the rear of Elizabeth’s father‘s acres, there was a small pond, and they made their way towards it.
“May I ask you something?” Elizabeth said.
“You may.”
“Why have you never shown interest in me? Beyond interest in my maidenhead?”
David thought for a moment. “It isn’t you. You’re beautiful, and smart, and charming. I think it was the idea of being married. I was used to a certain lifestyle, and I didn’t want to feel as though I had to be different.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you for telling the truth.”
“I may be a lot of things, but I am not a liar,” David said. They walked on in silence until they reached the pond. The water was a dark green, the surface still except for small circular ripples whenever a turtle poked his head up for a breath of air.
What happened next, David couldn’t have foreseen. They sat on the grass, Elizabeth folding the skirt of her gown beneath her as she did, so she wouldn’t be lost in the large ring of fabric, and they simply spoke. David rarely spoke with anyone the way he spoke then. They recalled stories from their childhood, so many hours spent together. They spoke of their hopes for the future, their regrets of the past.
“I want to do better,” David said as the sky turned the soft orange of evening.
“Then do better,” Elizabeth said.
David didn’t know what that meant, and he worked it out slowly in conversation with the beautiful girl.
Hours had passed since the first sat down and they grew hungry. David rose and helped Elizabeth to do the same, and they returned to her home.
“Will you dine with me?” she asked.
“I think not,” David said with a soft smile. “I would very much like to, but I feel the need to speak with my father. You are wise beyond your years,” he added.
“I hope to see you tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, and David took her hand and kissed it.
“I expect you will,” he said, and then he took his leave.
David and his father spoke at length that night, sharing glasses of brandy and a couple of cigars. David expressed his desire to learn the industry from his father, and that he yearned to take over at the bank within a year, as his father had wanted. At first, his father seemed hesitant, and David knew he worried that his son was simply trying to get back home, and get an allowance once more. But when David assured his father that he wanted no allowance, and would instead take pay from working at the bank, his father agreed. The two men hugged that night, something they had not done for some time.
The next morning, David hurried to see Elizabeth. He wanted to share the news with her, and he wanted to thank her. He would be working for the first time in his life later that morning, alongside his father, and if he had not spoken with the young girl, and through her learned what it really took to be happy in life, it would not have been happening.
While David was on his way to visit Elizabeth, Rupert had already called on her. They sat once more in the garden.
“I asked your father for you hand,” Rupert said. “Did you know that?”
“My father did tell me,” the young woman said. They say on the same bench where he had been kissing her in the days previous. He took her hand.
“I love you with all of my heart. I asked again. He told me you made some wager with David.”
“I did,” Elizabeth said. She didn’t pull her hand away from Rupert’s, but she felt as if though she should. She liked Rupert, and she knew she could love him. But something about David, she was hopeful he would impress her, hopeful he would make her believe that he loved her, and wanted to marry her, and not into the money her father would give him.
“I could take care of you. I would never gamble, never whore. I don’t think that could be said about David Weatherby,” Rupert went on.
“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth allowed with a slight nod of her head.
“So what is it? What compels you to reject me?”
“Oh, Rupert,” Elizabeth started. “It’s not rejection of you, it’s yearning for him.”
Rupert nodded, and let her hand fall away. He stood up and moved to a shallow stone pool, which had large golden fish swimming within it, surrounded by colorful flowers. It was the center of the grand garden. Elizabeth got up and moved to stand beside him.
“Don’t hurt me like this,” she said softly.
“Hurt you?”
“I care for you. I do. I love you even. In a way.”
Rupert sighed. “But not in a way like your love for him?”
“No. Not yet. Not when I love him so,” Elizabeth said. She felt frustrated, she was sure that no matter how she composed her words, she would never be able to adequately explain her feelings to Rupert.
He spun away. “I call too often. I am sorry for that. I should go.”
“No!” she said suddenly, surprising him and even herself. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. He stopped and turned to her, and there was another shock between them as she leaned forward and up, standing on the toes of her heeled white shoes and placed a soft kiss upon his lips.
David had arrived moments before and he had assured the old servant who answered he knew how to get to the garden. He was just walking through the doorway and outside when he saw them, standing near the goldfish pool. Elizabeth, the woman he had realized he really did love, the woman who had made him realize what a fool he had been in almost every aspect of his life, was kissing another man.
Rupert. David knew him, but not well. He had never felt jealous of the man, because he had never coveted Elizabeth, but now he did, and he felt the bitter taste of jealousy well up in his stomach.
He went out into the garden, and his footsteps caused the other two to separate.
“David!” Elizabeth said.
“I should be going,” Rupert said, but David held a hand out to him.
“Stay, I will only be a moment. Elizabeth, if I may speak to you.”
The young woman nodded and followed him back towards the home. He had wished to speak about his conversation with his father, had wanted to tell her what his father had said, had wanted to speak with her about the agreement they
had reached. But instead he thought of her. He wondered if she would be happy with a man like him, even a changed one. He didn’t think she would be.
“My father has resumed my allowance,” he said.
“He has?”
“I no longer need to marry you.”
“So that’s it?” Elizabeth asked. She felt an anger rising inside of her. She felt her cheeks grow heated as they turned red.
“That man over there, he’s the man you need,” David said, and though he wanted to say more, he couldn’t, and he turned and hurried inside.
Elizabeth was dumbfounded. She couldn’t move for a moment, she just watched him go, and then she was moving, running after him.
He was already out of the front door by the time Elizabeth entered the hall. She had heard it shut as she was still moving past the dining room. But she ran to it, planning on yelling after him, wanting to let him know she loved him, that he was a fool, and that now she hated him. She wrenched the front door open, preparing to run out into the drive, but he was there, facing the door, reaching to open it again and instead he found her, and she was in his arms, and they were kissing.
“I cannot lie,” he said, breaking the kiss. “That was a lie, and I cannot do it. Marry me. Marry me, I love you. I never knew I could love like this, but I can.”
“It was a lie?”
“I know you love Rupert, but I want that love to be mine,” David said.
“I don’t love Rupert,” Elizabeth said. Not the way I love you. What was a lie? You telling me to be with him? Why would you do that?”
“So you could be happy,” David said.
“You were willing to give me up, the woman you love, so I could be happy?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” David said, nodding. She kissed him again, deeply, their tongues dancing together in their mouths.
“Then you have done it,” she said as they finally drew their lips apart.
“Done what?”
“I will marry you.”
David grinned and picked her up, swinging her in a wide circle just outside her father’s home.
“You will?” he asked. “You promise?”
“I will,” Elizabeth said again, and they were kissing once more. When they pulled away David’s face was serious, and she felt nervous as he opened his mouth to speak.
“So which one of us is going to tell Rupert to leave?” he said, and they burst into a fit of laughter.
David and Elizabeth were married just a month later. That night, they lay amongst burning candles and blankets made of fur on a soft bed.
Elizabeth felt goose bumps as David ran his manly hand along her naked curves, down the side of her breast, down over her waste and hips, and finding its way towards her inner thighs. She let out a sigh when his fingers found her womanhood. He parted her lips and rubbed her wetness. He kissed her and then slowly inserted a finger. She closed her muscles around it, letting out a small groan. With his thumb, he pressed on her clitoris, which pressured her as he slid his finger in and out. David inserted a second finger and she felt the pleasure against her walls. He fingered her harder and faster until the pressure in her abdomen exploded and she came on his hand, arching her back, gripping the fur blanket.
But that was not enough. Elizabeth wanted more. She wanted to feel David’s fullness inside her. She reached for his penis. It felt hard and hot in her hand. She opened her legs and guided him to her wet and pulsating opening.
David slid inside, and Elizabeth groaned. His movements were slow so she could feel every inch of him as he slid in and out of her, teasing, pleasuring. He muscles in her vagina tingled and tightened. She could take no more.
Elizabeth opened her legs wider and grabbed David’s buttocks between her hands, guiding him to move faster, stronger. And when he pumped with more force, she felt him pound against her clitoris, her muscles clenching around his penis, the pressure building again in her entire body until she exploded once more with a long grown that lasted as long as her orgasm.
And then David came, his body shaking with pleasure.
Afterwards they lie together, sweaty and spent, but sated, their limbs entwined. Elizabeth had never felt so happy, and she was sure that her wager had been the last gamble her husband would ever take.
She had won the game of love.
A Lady’s Reward (by Sarah Thorn)
The Village of Ashworthy was large by English standards. Most of it was owned by Mr. Daniel Pickford, the owner of the mill where a high percentage of the population worked. Mr. Pickford demanded much of his employees. He was one of the new rich, part of the an elite group of industrialists whose wealth had multiplied incalculably during the industrial revolution. For those unfortunate enough to work for him, it was a living hell. Fifteen-hour shifts for little pay, six days a week.
Victoria was just eighteen, but she had already been working in the mill for three years. She was by far the most beautiful woman at the mill, and Mr. Pickford had earmarked her for a job as one of his assistants. Mr. Pickford's assistants didn't work in the traditional sense of the word. They waited. It was not their job to turn up at the mill and do a shift with the others; it was their job to go to Mr. Pickord's special cottage and make sure they looked pretty, in case he came to see them. As Mr. Pickford liked to have plenty of choice, he had four assistants. He always chose young unmarried women; he didn't care for husbands. They caused him to look over his shoulder too much. Victoria was next on the list as soon as one of the current incumbents decided to marry.
''You ain't like us,'' Mary had told Victoria when she'd first come to the mill from the village school. ''You're posh.'' Mary was the forewoman and not to be quarreled with. Victoria had been terrified on her fist day, indeed the first week, and the greeting Mary had given her, had done nothing to improve her state of mind. She'd taken comfort in the fact that almost the whole of her school class had come to work there with her. They all thought she was posh too, but they were used to her ways.
''You're far too intelligent to go to the mill,'' Mr. Jameson, her teacher, had told her. ''You should school yourself some more, and be a teacher, or at the very least a governess.''
''But sir, we have very little money, and I'm afraid if I don't work, we may want for food,'' she'd replied. ''My father is not well, and as you know, my mother passed away three years ago.''
Victoria lived with her father in a small cottage for which they paid rent to Mr. Pickford. Her father also worked at the mill and had done so since before Victoria was born. He was well spoken and gentle. The village had been rife with speculation when he'd arrived to live there with his well-to-do wife, for it was obvious that they didn't belong in a small cottage or at the mill. The rumor that held most credit among the villagers was that he'd been disinherited for marrying an Irish woman.
Her parents didn't tell her much about their lives before Ashworthy. All she knew was that her father was English, and her mother Irish. Her mother had mentioned Cork a few times but nothing more. What Victoria did know, was that her mother had an Irish temper. Red haired and fiery, the villagers preferred to keep out of her way.
''You'll be coming to church tomorrow, won't you?'' Lizzie asked as she and Victoria were leaving the mill on Saturday evening after fifteen hours. It was April and almost dark.
''Of course. Since my father became ill, I've never missed a Sunday service. I just hope the good Lord hears my prayers. It's not nice for him lying in bed every day waiting for me to come home.''
The two girls walked together down the hill and into the village. They parted company where they always did at the village green.
''Victoria, can I walk with you?'' It was Jack, the son of the mill foreman. Just eighteen and already six feet tall he looked like a walking coat hanger. He was one of those boys that first shot up in height, and some years later filled out. The filling out hadn't yet taken place.
''I've only got a couple of yards to go,'' she replied, thankful that he'd only caught up with her so cl
ose to home.
''Perhaps on another occasion,'' he hung his head and walked across the green, scattering a group of grazing sheep.
Their cottage was on the west side of the green, opposite Lizzie's house. All the cottages were the same on the outside. A front door in the middle, with a window on the left and right. Upstairs two bedroom windows. All had a thatched roof and a small garden at the front.
Victoria looked at her reflection in the window as she walked up the path to the door. She was a tall woman with strawberry blonde hair, a mix of her father's blonde and her mother's ginger. Her feet were aching, and she badly wanted to sit down with a cup of tea. She opened the door and, as usual, took off her bonnet before shouting to her father. Only on this day, there was no reply. He had died in bed twenty minutes before Lizzie got home.
*****
The Duke of Haslemere had more land than any other member of the aristocracy except the King himself. His Dukedom was made up of three estates, two had been in the family since Magna Carta, and the third was a more recent acquisition. His residence was Easingborough Hall. A twenty-five bedroom mansion set in three hundred acres of parkland. His Spanish wife had only been able to bear him one child, Edward, now twenty. Edward was a handsome man. Tall and slender, he had his mother's hair color, black, and his father's green eyes.
In all, the Dukedom had around five hundred tenants. Not many of them had much respect for the Duke. Extortionate rent increases and regular evictions were commonplace, ample explanation why there were so few mourners at his funeral.
Edward held onto his mother's arm as they followed the coffin into the church. He had just inherited a massive fortune and a lot of responsibility. More sensitive than his father, the tenants were hoping for an upturn in their fortunes. Edward counted thirty-two people in the church, including the vicar, the organist, his mother and himself. Just twenty-eight out of five hundred, he hoped more would turn up when it was his turn.
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