“Oh, uncle,” pleaded Caroline, wringing her hands and gazing at him with her beautiful eyes, “I am sure you will do as you say; I am so sorry I submitted to a whim and permitted Carl the freedom of my person; I assure you I shall not do so again.”
“Promises,” quoth his lordship, “are like biscuits-made to be broken!”
“Oh no, sir-I assure you-” began the girl, but the lord silenced her with a wave of his hand.
“Never mind, my child; knowing how easily promises are made and broken, I shall not require you to make any. And besides, who knows? Perhaps I may ask you to again be familiar with Carl,” and he looked quizzically at the blushing girl.
“Oh, uncle,” fluttered Caroline, “what can you mean? You wish me to still carry on with him as before? Surely you can't mean that?”
“Hold on,” laughed Roxboro. “You are indeed anticipating me. I have not as yet given you permission to run to Carl and offer him your person to poke and ram at his pleasure; but in case I should want you to do so, just bear in mind that you are to obey my command!”
“Oh yes, uncle; whatever you say will be quite all right with me,” replied the girl.
“Very well. But just for the present I command you to keep your distance from Carl; later on, if I see fit, I may change things about in what might be a more pleasant arrangement. But for the present, keep out of his reach or it will be worse for you.”
“Certainly,” replied Caroline, glad that her uncle was apparently relenting and showed no intention of tormenting her further.
“By the way,” said he, “Freda is surely showing signs of getting on famously with her education.”
“Indeed, uncle, especially in regard to your teachings. I think she is beginning to 'feel her oats' as you might say, and unless something is done about it, you may find it necessary to photograph her also with some enterprising male as she seems to be determined to get herself deflowered. If you'll excuse my saying so, you seem to be a trifle dilatory in that respect and so she may take other means to compensate for your apparent neglect. She seems to get beside herself at times and there are moments when I feel that she would do most anything to relieve that itching in her coosie. I do hope you will not think I am officious, but nature is nature, and if something isn't done about taking her maidenhead pretty soon, I fear the consequences.”
The man replied nothing to this statement, but arose and walked over to his lovely niece, whom he began to caress. He remarked, “I believe you are right, Caroline; I thought she was a trifle young, but after all, she is well grown and I imagine it will be just as well to introduce her now to a man's member. I think I shall take care of her very shortly.”
“Oh, uncle, uncle!” laughed Caroline, her eyes flashing as she thought of the lovely little Freda being impaled upon a man's prick. “I merely mention it because I thought it was right you should know what was in her mind.”
“Enough of this, you lovely creature,” remarked the lord, his hands straying over the lovely body. “I have heard enough about Freda for the time being; you would rather sit here and cackle than to take care of your uncle; here I have a bar of iron as painful as can be, waiting for you to put your talents to work at reducing the swelling.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, uncle,” replied Carrie, placing her hands on the front of his trousers and squeezing seductively the large rampant lump that now strained at the confinement. “I didn't know whether you wished me to do anything for you.”
“Stand up, girl,” cried the lord, his eyes flashing. “Stand up and let me feel you.” The girl rose and the man clasped her to his bosom, his hands roving about under her dress, and as his lips rained kisses on her burning face, she relaxed in his arms; he thrust his trembling hand beneath her garments and greedily fingered the mount of Venus and the delicate lips of her vulva; then, pushing her toward the couch, he laid her thereon and, spreading her legs widely apart, stood gazing at her rosy slit.
In a second his tool was out. He mounted the girl and drove home his engine with a violent shove. Their bodies intertwined in the writhings of lust for several minutes until with groans and spasmodic twistings they arrived at the climax, after which they lay clasped in each other's arms for some few moments of rest. Arising, the man looked down at his niece, who now lay as though shamed, her hands before her rosy face; it seemed her conscience still hurt her a trifle after each of these bouts, and she had not entirely lost her shame.
“What a change from the coy, demure, modest, bashful girl of a few weeks ago,” he said. “Caroline, my dear, I'll wager there isn't a harlot, courtesan or whore in the land who is your equal when you are in the heat of passion, and yet you retain that air of convent-bred bashfulness and modesty,” he said, laughing loudly.
As he started to the bath to cleanse himself, the air was rent with a series of piercing feminine shrieks. The two stood for a moment in consternation at the unearthly outcries, which seemed to come from some maiden in dire distress. Suddenly Roxboro was galvanized into action. Leaping to the door, he stepped into the hall, noted that the sounds were coming from the rear part of the house, and sped down the stairs. As he came to a rear room, he noted a man clambering through a half-opened window with Carl, the stableboy, valiantly endeavoring to prevent the escape. Dashing to the fray, Roxboro seized the man by one leg and, with the help of Carl, unceremoniously hauled him back into the room. At this juncture the gardener also came running. Instructing the two domestics to hold the man, Roxboro repaired to his study, where he secured a revolver, and returned to the scene of the confusion. Pointing his weapon at the intruder, he commanded the servants to step back out of range. The housekeeper coming in at this point gasped, “That's him! Why, my lord, he actually tried to rape Marie in her boudoir; he was going to diddle her!”
“Aha, a rape, my young jackanapes!” cried Roxboro fiercely, and Carl and the gardener started forward as though to give the fellow his just deserts, but the lord waved them back.
The stranger was a rather attractive young fellow, loudly attired in garish clothes, but not unprepossessing. He seemed very much in command of himself and was apparently not put out in the slightest by the hullabaloo which he had occasioned. Dusting off his clothing, he rearranged his disheveled attire in a matter-of-fact manner. Raising his white and well-manicured hand, he twirled his mustache and coolly surveyed his captors.
“Well, my lad, who are you and what are you doing here?” demanded Roxboro.
“Pardon me, sir; I seem to have startled your people,” replied the man in a cultured voice. “I trust that in my somewhat hasty and informal though unsuccessful retreat, I have not harmed the window sash. I must admit I appear in rather a bad light; as the worthy dame remarked, it smacks of an attempted rape but-spare my blushes- please do not attribute such an unworthy action to me; by the bones and joints of my worthy ancestors, I swear that the girl, Marie, is my legally wedded wife and that I and others have been searching for her over a long period of time. That explanation may change the complexion of this interesting tableau in which I appear.”
“What!” cried Roxboro upon hearing this, in his perturbation almost dropping the weapon. Waving at the astonished and gaping slaves, he motioned them to withdraw, saying as he did so, “I'll take care of this. Retire, all of you.” Still pointing his pistol at the intruder, however, he remarked, “By Jove! Well, upon my soul-Marie's husband! Fancy that, now!” For a moment he was nonplussed and hardly knew what course to pursue. Suppose the man's tale were true- suppose, on the other hand, he were lying in order to extricate himself from a tight spot. The man seated himself and seemed at perfect ease, undisturbed by the march of events.
“I wish you would put away that beastly thing that you are so uncertainly pointing in my direction; it might inadvertently go off and tear a large, irregular aperture in my anatomy, which would prove very distressing to us both.”
“Never mind,” the lord replied. “How do I know you are what you say? I warn you, young man, you have plenty of explaining to do and possibly you may end the evening in the hands of the police.”
“There you are, sir; even as you say, the girl may or may not be my wife. Who knows?” coolly replied the stranger.
“That is important to the issue, of course, but at the same time, my lad, remember this: wife or no wife, it does not give you the right to forcibly enter my domicile. You may not be aware that you are talking to Lord Roxboro, eh?”
The mention of his name produced no visible effect upon the stranger, only causing him to smile in an enigmatic manner, as he merely acknowledged that he was aware of his lordship's identity. Producing some papers, he said, “In my coat you will find more documents to prove my identity. Perhaps you had better call in my wife; the sooner this is done, the sooner we can clear the matter up, and end this little farce.” Roxboro stepped to the door and opened it quickly, thus upsetting the housekeeper whom he found with her ear glued to the keyhole.
