The Dungeon

Chapter Two-2

Lying in bed half an hour later he began to review the plan that had been forming in his mind. He knew that it would be a comparatively simply matter to obtain possession of her body by force. But he felt that to be beneath him. Any common fellow could carry her off and rape her. What he wanted was to enjoy her at leisure, to introduce her to practices he was sure she had never even contemplated, persuade her to join him in his explorations of lechery and perversity. He wanted, in short, to debauch her, not merely conquer her.

He saw once again in his mind’s eye the gracefulness of her lower limbs, the perfection of her breasts, the nobility and sensuousness of her face. As he touched himself he imagined what he had not yet clearly seen: the beautiful contours of her belly, the delicious roundness of her ass, and the delicate promise of her cunt just visible, he surmised, through its screen of silky black curls. Finally, as he ejaculated, he thought of the pursed, pink little mouth which must nestle between the rounded cheeks of her ass, an anus which it was now his greatest wish to penetrate.

James tapped on Eleanor’s door early the next day. “I’m going down to breakfast. We aim to make a prompt start. But no need for you to hurry. I can catch up with you later.”

Eleanor wanted to call out for him not to leave her, to wait for her to be ready to accompany him. But she heard his footsteps rapidly moving away. James knew only too well how long it took a girl like Eleanor to get ready, the endless tinkering with details of apparel, the fussing with touches to the face, the powder, the eye make-up, the rouge and some colouring on the lips. He couldn’t wait for all that. When at last Eleanor appeared downstairs, the breakfast, such as was left, was cold and cheerless. There seemed no one around, except for a serving girl who with obvious reluctance made her some fresh coffee. She wondered how she was going to pass the day. After a while she went to the library and took down the book James had been sampling last night. She read a few pages detailing some of Tom’s amatory adventures, but in all honesty it was not greatly scandalous. Adelaide had produced far more racy volumes at school, many of them fully illustrated with drawings of naked men and women vigorously engaged in acts of intercourse, the women kneeling, their faces contorted with lust as men pushed improbably sized c***s into one or other of their orifices. All the same, her reading produced a rather lazy mood of sensuality. The space between her legs started to feel warm, even a little sticky. She wondered if there was somewhere to go where she could relieve this sensation. Habitually, Eleanor was not a girl given to self-denial. s*x with men never being available, she had to find solace in various acts of m**********n, but she usually found opportunities for these without too much trouble.

She looked around the room. She was, quite obviously, alone. There were windows down one side, looking out onto a terrace overlooking the lawn. She peered out; no one in sight. It seemed safe enough. She got herself comfortable in an armchair and threw one leg over the arm. Hitching up her skirts, she slid a hand into her drawers. It was an advantage of the garments ladies traditionally wore next to their private parts that they were essentially open, only made decent when the two parts were tightly drawn together and tied. It was always easy to access what needed to be touched.

Her mind began to think about Lord Darlington. She didn’t want to, would have preferred not to, instead concentrating on what she had been reading or what Adelaide had shown her, or better still what she had shown James at their last visit here, and what more she might let him see if he was a good boy. But an image kept coming into her mind, of a woman, naked, on all fours, and Lord Darlington kneeling behind her, in the act of inserting his c**k into that forbidden orifice, so tight, yet capable of being forced.

So engrossed was Eleanor in these ribald images that she did not hear a door open at the back of the library, a door whose existence she didn’t even suspect. Thus it was a profound shock to hear someone say loudly, “Ahem.”

She spun round, quickly pulling down her skirt. There was Stoker, Lord Darlington’s man, standing not three feet away.

“How dare you creep up on me!” Eleanor snapped, deciding attack was the best form of defence.

“I am sorry, my lady. I had no idea anyone was here.”

He didn’t look sorry. There was something very like a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Eleanor decided that it was pointless to pretend she had not been doing what she all too obviously had been doing. She would have to brazen it out.

“I am not accustomed to being spied up when engaged in some private activity,” Eleanor said.

“I am sorry, my lady,” Stoker said again.

“We shall not mention this again. Nor shall it be mentioned to any other person,” Eleanor said firmly. “If you do, there will be serious consequences. But if you can draw a discreet veil over what you saw, then you will not find me ungrateful.” She wondered how much it would take to buy his silence. Perhaps not a lot. But the only person Stoker would be likely to tell was the last person she would ever want to know about it, his employer Lord Darlington. She would be mortified if he ever discovered that she had such lewd impulses.

“One does not spend time in Lord Darlington’s employ without learning the value of discretion,” said Stoker. “You may trust me, my lady.”

“I hope so,” said Eleanor. She stood up, brushing down her dress, and walked to the door without a further word. Going upstairs, she spent some time putting on her hat. Before going back down again, she ventured to put a hand up her skirt again. Inside her drawers was as wet as it had ever been. Shame, it seemed, had a highly stimulating effect. Eleanor was beginning to think that s****l desire was not quite as simple as she had thought.

It was a fine sunny day and she didn’t need a coat. She set off across the park, enjoying the sunshine and the sound of the birds singing. At least if James was not around to look after her, Lord Darlington was not in evidence either. She was walking along a path that went past a clump of trees and then made for a wood. Eleanor decided a walk in the wood was harmless enough. There seemed no one else around, as far as the eye could see. But as she got deeper into the wood, she thought she could hear voices, soft gentle voices, but talking earnestly. As she walked, quietly now, along the path the voices got louder. They seem to be coming from an area off the path, where the trees were thicker. She became curious about who was there and what they were doing. The voices got more distinct as Eleanor began to creep very quietly up to the source. Peering around the trunk of a tree, she saw, not thirty yards away, a couple. The woman was put up against a tree trunk, but bent over, with her skirt up around her waist. Standing behind her was a man, his trousers around his ankles. As he talked to the woman he was f*****g her, his buttocks clenching as he thrust forwards.

Transfixed, Eleanor stood and watched. She had never seen a couple f*****g before, never even seen a naked man. After thrusting in and out for a long time, he pulled his c**k out. Eleanor held her breath as she looked at it, the first she had ever seen. She was surprised how big it was; could such a thing ever be pushed inside her? Surely it was too big. Though she remembered the dildo Adelaide had got for her was about the same size. But she had never pushed it right up inside her, because of not wanting to deflower herself.

The woman turned around and went down on her knees. She pulled down the front of her dress, exposing her breasts, then she leaned forward and took the man’s c**k in her mouth. Eleanor had until now never imagined such a thing, never conceived that any woman would be capable of such depravity. What did a c**k taste like? Feel like in the mouth? One day she would know.

The woman sucked the man’s c**k for several minutes. From the expression on her face, she enjoyed it. Eleanor could not see the man’s face, but doubtless he was enjoying it too. Then, suddenly, the woman pulled back and a stream of thick creamy fluid shot from the c**k, all over her face. Eleanor wasn’t sure about this. The spectacle was disturbing, gross, yet undeniably arousing. Would she like this? It looked messy. The man reached out and began to smear the semen all over the woman’s face. Then she leaned forward again and sucked the few remaining drops from his c**k with evident relish.

Eleanor thought it was time to steal away in case of discovery. She made her way deeper into the woods and then stopped. The memory of what she had just seem was vivid. She clutched her groin, her fingers digging into her cunt. The interrupted action in the library had left her tense and frustrated. Her cunt ached. Quickly she put a hand up under her skirt and slipped it into her drawers. Vigorously, almost violently, she began to rub. It was only a minute or two before the orgasm came, gripping her with its intensity, her hips shaking. She lay back against a tree and slowly caressed herself. Her cunt was still tingling. Gradually her fingers induced a second orgasm, sweeter, purer than the first. Eleanor sighed with pleasure, holding her hand to her nose, inhaling the scent of her s*x.

Back at the house, she saw that the shooting party had returned. She gave James a hug, which seemed to embarrass him in front of the other men, but she was so pleased to see him. Over lunch she kept putting her hand below the tablecloth and stroking his thigh. Just once, she moved it a little higher, and could feel under his trousers firm evidence that she had aroused his interest. Poor boy, she thought, he knows I won’t give him what he wants, but that doesn’t stop him wanting.

She wondered idly how his c**k measured up in comparison with the one she had seen that morning, until now the first and only. Moved by her state of arousal after all that had happened that day, she conceived an idea. Hitherto she had been minded to offer James a brief glimpse of what lay inside her drawers. But why must it be only his pleasure that was considered? Why could it not be hers? What if, instead of exposing herself to James, she ordered him to expose himself to her? Having seen one c**k, she was agog to see more. Of course it would have to be the merest glimpse. Nothing must lead him to expect any further favours from her, not yet. She would not touch it, merely demand to see it for a minute. He would have to manipulate himself first; she wanted to make sure it would be at its maximum size before he showed it.

Would he be shy? Even though he would be told not to expect anything else, he would surely hope that complying with her demands would eventually result in something for him, if not immediately, then when there was next an opportunity. She decided that this event would take place in the coach on the way home the next day. That way, there would be no chance of any further play, the coachman being too close.