“I suppose you would like a punch of it now,” said Lord Roxboro waggishly. “I suppose,” he said, patting her breast, which was very plump and enticing, “that by now you are willing and eager to entertain a stranger in that little moss grove between your legs. Would you like it now, Grace? Come, little girl, tell me,” he added, nudging her roguishly.
Grace laughed merrily and, tweaking it up and down, slapped it gently against the peer's belly and said:
“I'll not say that I would like it as you put it, my lord, but even if I did-mind you, I'm hot saying I do-even if I did, it would not be much good in this shape.”
“True,” agreed his lordship. “You are right there, my dear, but there are more ways than one to skin a cat, and if you intend to be a proper married woman, one of the first tricks that you must learn is that of making a soft prick metamorphose itself into a standing member. That is what a woman's work is, and, Grace, how would it be if you really desired and your husband was in the same state that I am?”
“I do not know,” confessed the naked girl, blushing furiously. “I am sure, my lord, that I know nothing of such things. You should know that, my lord, especially after-after you have-”
“Have fucked you,” the lewd man finished for her. “But let's not be timid about this or backward either, dear. The mere fact that you have not the necessary knowledge of stiffening a rod is no fault of yours, and I absolve you from all the blame in that respect. But there are ways to be learned.” Drawing her to him, he passed his arms about her and kissed her warmly on the lips.
Grace submitted eagerly to this embrace and hoped that the contact of her lips on his would bring to life the thing she desired.
But alas, it still hung soft and lax against her thighs.
“Now,” said Lord Roxboro, pushing her away a bit. “Seeing that you are curious, I deem it quite proper that you as a newly married woman should be conversant with all the accepted modes of stimulating a lazy friend to action. I will explain to you the method of making this fellow”-here he lifted his prong-“come to life as hard as ever. The method, my dear, lies between your sweet rosy lips. The friction of your tongue and the warmth of your tender mouth imparted to the head and body of my prong will serve in a very short while to stimulate it to a size that I am sure will be perfectly satisfactory to all concerned.”
“Oh, no,” said Grace, making a face of disgust. “Surely, my lord, you do not mean that I am to take that thing in my mouth. Why-why-”
“Yes,” echoed his lordship, “why should there be a reason in the world that you should not? It is part of my body, the same as my face or my lips and to kiss it is the most tender act that a woman can show. Surely, Grace, you can see no evil in a wonderful action like that.”
“No-” stammered Grace. “But it seems so-so wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong in love,” said the sensual peer, “and I am sure that if I thought that it would give you satisfaction, I would willingly kiss you in the spot that it would do the most good.” And bending over her satiny body, he kissed her bare belly and allowed his tongue to graze over her luscious flesh.
Grace gave a wiggle at this and as his prong was now again in her hand, she bent over as if to return the caresses, but stopped.
“I hope that it will not be necessary to tie you or beat you to inculcate within you the fundamental principles in the art of love. But if you force me, I will have to do so.” Passing a hand behind her head, he pushed her down on his belly.
Grace found her eyes opposite his dart and, squeezing it in her fingers, looked into the tiny hole in the head as though she might tell what was contained inside. In answer to the insistent pushes of his lordship on the back of her head, she laid his pintle beside her velvety cheek and rolled the head over her lips.
“In, in,” panted his lordship, his prong already beginning to swell from this delicious contact.
“Kiss it, Grace. Take the head in your mouth I beg of you!”
Grace opened her lips and, thrusting forth her tongue, allowed it to graze the head of his tool, licking and kissing the purpled nut; then, opening her mouth wide to encompass the thick body of his prong, she opened a little wider and sucked it into her mouth, rolling her tongue about its head.
It was not so bad as she had thought and, settling down in the bed, she allowed the lord to roll over on her, his balls resting on her chin. Passing one hand along the length of the tool near his belly, she tongued it as best she could.
His lordship passed both his hands behind her head and, forcing his tool down her throat, began pushing and shoving and Grace felt the rod swell within her mouth.
She now lay passively, allowing him to do his will; and as his prick dashed in and out of her lips, she wondered why he did not stop and proceed with the natural act.
A sudden slowing up of his movements, accompanied by a shooting of his load of gelatinous foam down her throat, soon told her that she had allowed him to go too far. She struggled and coughed, but his lordship still held her down and she was forced to swallow most of the load. He finally released her as she sputtered on the bed.
He wiped himself and laughed heartily at her rage.
When she was able to talk she berated him soundly, but his lordship took her in his arms and, kissing away all traces of his spunk, soon had her in a lively state.
“Lucky for you,” he said, “that I am what is known as a repeater amongst the girls. Now that you have done so well, if you will roll over, I will give you a charge of dew in the proper place.”
“Why,” she said, her eyes wide open, “I thought that when you exploded, you were done. Are you still hard?” Searching out his tool, she found it was true as he said.
She lost no time in placing herself in the proper position and his lordship soon impaled her quim with his erect prick and they were both dancing about in a sensual swoon on the bed.
This violent charge of juices seemed to quiet her somewhat and as his lordship climbed off, she pillowed her head on her arm and fell into a dreamless sleep.
It is now time for us to turn our attention to Caroline's room in which both of the sisters had been interested spectators of the ravishment of the merchant's wife.
Perched on their chair, they had held their eyes glued to the hole and not a movement of the trio had escaped them. Unconsciously Caroline had slipped a hand beneath her dress and with gentle rubs massaged the badge of her sex. Freda, observing her action, had followed her sister's example.
Closely pressed together, their breaths intermingling, their eyes sparkling with lust, they rubbed like mad and allowed their tightly pressed thighs to become saturated by the emission of their sex.
“Oh, oh,” moaned Caroline. “Freda, I feel so queer.” Cautiously stepping from the chair, she staggered to the bed and threw herself upon it, her head in her arms.
Freda, in no better state than her sister, quickly followed and, gathering her sister in her arms, kissed her passionately.
“Oh, oh,” moaned Caroline again, drawing up her legs and pressing her sister to her. “I am so-so-excited, Freda. Go away I beg you please, Freda.”
But Freda, placing her hand boldly under her sister's dress, found, as she had expected, that Caroline was all wet. Rubbing the protruding clitoris brought on another profuse flow of mucus. Freda herself quickly brought on her own flow and the two girls, completely exhausted, fell asleep in each other's arms on the bed.
As you will remember, Lord Roxboro had looked through the house before submitting the beautiful Grace to a double rape, and although he found no one about, still there was an inmate on the lower floors.
It was Marie, the maid, who hid there.
Marie had watched the actions of Lord Roxboro and her husband Montgomery as they separated the newly married pair and surmised what was about to happen to Grace.
She suffered a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Grace's experiencing pleasure that she considered belonged to her and her alone.
Determined to even up the score, she crept to the room in which the complacent husband Harry Trant was confined, and turning the key in the door, unlocked it, entered slowly, and carefully relocked the door behind her.
Then, sitting herself on a low chair beside him, she whispered:
“Not a word, Mr. Trant. I am your friend and I am determined to help you. I have heard all that transpired and know that you are held here against your will, and if possible I am here to help you.”
“Oh, oh,” cried Mr. Trant, running his hands through his hair and rushing up and down the room. “Why, oh
