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Jenny's Curiosity

By: val wrangler



The young woman was pretty down when her Tommy went into the service. He'd been Jenny Smith's only boyfriend throughout the end of school, and frankly, she was far more depressed and lost than she'd imagined she'd be.

The school term had finally finished and Jenny should have been going off to uni. Things hadn't worked out that way yet because of exam results, but she had hopes of starting in some extra courses and then use that as a back door entrance to uni. She and Tommy were both going to try this.

That day was the one she'd been looking forward to since he'd left: his first leave, but it just wasn't to be. The day before, a letter had arrived, explaining that things had come up and he wasn't going to be able to come for another three weeks, and the girl was devastated. She had been counting on seeing him so much.

Her mum called from downstairs. "Jenny! I've got your tea ready, luv. Come down and have it!"

She got off her bed and pasted on a smile as she made my way down the steep stairs of their cottage. Wouldn't do any good to have mum see her moping around, not with the load she'd been carrying since dad died a year earlier. Since then, it had just mum and her, and not much from the insurance money to keep body and soul together.

They lived in a small town in Dorset and Jenny longed to get out and see the world. She and Tommy had already made lots of plans on what they'd do when he got out of the service. With the conflict in the Falkland Islands going on, they were both hoping he wouldn't get sent over there. At least, Jenny was hoping. Tommy, she wasn't so sure about. You know how boys are.

She found her mum with her head buried in the local paper. On the table was the old teapot, covered with a hand-knitted cosy, two mugs and a couple of biscuits for each of them.

Mum poured. "So, Jenny, what do you fancy on doing over your hols? A spot of work?"

Jenny kept her head down so her mum couldn't see her annoyance. It was obvious what she was hinting at, but in the girl's depression over Tommy not coming home as promised, she really didn't feel like doing anything.

Mum again consulted the paper. "Pub in the next town is advertising for a barmaid. You're a pretty thing. Bet they'd hire you in a minute."

"Mum! I don't want to work in a place like that and I can't believe you'd suggest it!"

Truth was, Jenny always turned heads. Not that she really wanted to, but there it was. Boys had been pestering her since she was 12, and now that she'd turned 18, older men had started noticing.

She'd been blessed with wavy, light brown hair and a good complexion. While not all that tall (5'5''), her figure could be have been described as slender but curvy. She noticed males ogling her chest often enough, and Tommy was always trying to touch her bosom, so she guessed that was all right, too. Her face was expressive and beautiful, and clearly broadcast her naive innocence.

When her boyfriend was around to keep the men at bay, it was fine. Not many were eager to take on a strapping farm lad who was good with his fists. Since he'd gone, Jenny had kept to herself so she wouldn't have problems and it was pretty lonely life.

Mum flipped a page. "Well, would you at this. Flamborough Hall has been given to the National Trust. There's a full page on it. I never!"

That caught Jenny's interest. "Let me see, Mum!"

"Here, darling, swing around and we'll both read it."

The Hall (as it was locally referred to) had been uninhabited for as long as Jenny been alive. The last lord had taken to living abroad and other than the lord's factor and his wife, no one she knew had been ever been inside.

Locally, the place had a bit of a reputation and she'd heard it said that the now-dead lord of the manor, Sir Archibald Fairchild, a bachelor and last of the line, had been forced to make a hasty exit many years before and hadn't been seen around the county since. The couple left in charge of the estate managed things well and stayed spotlessly loyal to their employer, although they stayed aloof from the rest of the village and seldom left the property.

"I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Reeves are going to do?" mum asked.

"It's right here at the end of the article. It says they've already left, retired, gone away. It's been hinted that Sir Archibald left them a packet."

"I should hope so!" Mum harumphed. "Imagine living there alone all those years and having to take care of that horrible old mansion!"

"Why does everyone say Flamborough Hall is so horrible? I think it's quite a lovely place. The view from the upper floors must be magnificent."

"But you don't know what went on there."

"What DID go on there? Nobody seems to want to talk about it."

"And I don't either. It brings bad luck to talk about evil things."

"Mum, I'm eighteen now!"

But Mrs. Smith wouldn't talk about it. 

Jenny's best friend Elaine dropped by that evening, and the topic of discussion as the two young ladies sat cross-legged on Jenny's bed was, of course, Flamborough Hall.

At least Lainey's parents had been willing to talk a bit more about the old hall.

"You just won't believe it," Lainey told her. "Apparently Sir Archibald and his cronies got up to all kinds of nastiness up there. Devil worship, my mum says, but I don't believe that and neither do you. Dad told me that Sir Archibald was a debaucher of young women and that parents hereabouts kept a tight leash on their daughters when the lord of the manor and his friends were in residence. They say he cut a dashing figure as a rogue, and had little trouble seducing anyone he wanted to -- even married women."

"What does debaucher mean?"

"You know, someone who seduces sweet young things who don't know any better." Lainey fixed her friend with a knowing eye. "Girls like you."

Jenny defended herself. "I'm not all that innocent."

"Just because you let Tommy play with your titties a little, doesn't make you all that experienced, you know." Lainey nodded sagely. "Dad says one of 'em jumped off the roof and that's why Sir Archibald left the country."

"Sounds like more rumours to me."

"But I'll bet you don't know the really big news."

"What?"

"The National Trust has called for local people to come in and clean the place up. They're going to open it for people to tour and all. Use the grounds for picnics and the like. I'm thinking of signing up. They'll pay good, too."

When Lainey left, Jenny thought about what her friend had said for quite a long time. She'd always been curious and now was my chance to see the whole inside of this mysterious building. Tomorrow morning would find her first in the queue.

Jenny got a job and it was far more than she'd expected. Twenty years of dust and grime doesn't go away easily when you have over thirty large rooms to contend with. It was quite spooky walking into the shuttered rooms and finding everything covered with white sheets, but once the shutters were thrown open, windows cleaned (usually her job) and the sheets removed, the rooms were really quite beautiful. They certainly had the nicest furniture she'd ever seen.

The girl had always been a good worker and Mrs. Tilbury, the woman sent down from London to be in charge, took a liking to Jenny. She also seemed to know a good bit about the Fairchild family. One day she found Jenny looking up at a painting hanging in the library.

"That's Sir Archibald, last of the line," Mrs. Tilbury said as she walked up behind Jenny. "Very handsome and dashing, don't you think?"

The figure in the painting was rather good looking with strong features and dressed as if he'd just come in from riding. What caught the girl most were his piercing dark eyes. The artist had captured those quite strikingly. As she moved over to the side of the room, the eyes seemed to follow her.

Unnerved, Jenny turned to look out the window. "People say he got up to all sorts of nastiness here at the hall."

"Don't you believe everything you hear. He was young and had some layabout friends from the city. I imagine parties on the weekends might get a bit, ah, boisterous."

"I heard a woman died here."

Mrs. Tilbury nodded sadly. "Apparently, she was very mixed up and threw herself from the roof. It could have been a love affair gone wrong. Who knows?"

"Is that why Sir Archibald left?"

She looked a bit uncomfortable. "Ah, no. He had a medical condition. Living in England was hard on him, so he chose to live in warmer climes. Now we should get back to work."

After two weeks of hard work, the old place was beginning to look spic and span. Painters and plasters were starting to work on the upper floors and photographers could be found everywhere documenting all the objects in the house. To stay out of their way, Mrs. Tilbury had "her girls" start cleaning below stairs, as the servant's area used to be called.

It was the typical layout of a large country house with storage rooms, kitchens, larders and pantries. Everything looked as if it had just been dropped and left where it was. Mice had cleaned out the edible bits years ago and their droppings were everywhere. But even with the windows cleaned, the rooms looked pretty dingy. Obviously, the important folk never came down here. Unless it was to look for new conquests, Jenny thought with a naughty tingle.

At the end of the long hallway running the length of the house, off which the various workrooms and kitchens were situated, stood a large metal door with a hole for one of those big, old-fashioned keys. Problem was, no one knew where it had got to.

"We'll have to get a locksmith in," Mrs. Tilbury told Jenny. "Monday will do for that."

As it was Friday, the two women began shutting off lights (Sir Archibald's family had been the first in the county to bring in electricity). Everyone else had left a bit early, as it looked as if it was about to bucket. Jenny's employer began glancing out the windows apprehensively.

"Why don't you let me finish locking up, Mrs. Tilbury? I live nearby and don't mind a bit of rain. You have to drive all the way back to London."

"That would be quite wonderful of you, Jenny. Just please don't be late on Monday and keep the fact to yourself that I've left you with the keys. It would be my job if anyone found out!"

Mrs. Tilbury scurried out the back door and Jenny shortly heard her car's tyres scrunching off down the gravel drive. Flamborough Hall was hers!

She went through all the ground floor rooms admiring the furniture and fine paintings. In the library, she walked around looking at the floor to ceiling bookcases. Since it was fairly dark, one book with a white cover caught her eye. Moving the rolling ladder over to it, Jenny climbed up to get a closer look. In gold letters on the spine it said _The Art of Love_.

Sitting down at the desk, she turned on the light and opened the book, then gasped and coloured involuntarily at what she saw: pages documenting all the positions two people could make love in (among other perverted things!), with copious diagrams, photographs and descriptions.

Now, even though the girl hadn't much experience with sex, she'd heard a fair bit through her friends, but what she saw in the book was really quite shocking -- and exciting. She didn't know that men and women could the sorts of things shown, and that they could be quite so...athletic. In some of the photos they looked like those Indian swamis getting up to all sorts of nastiness the way the women were bent.

Jenny had indeed done some petting with her Tommy, and just once, the night before he left for the army, she'd actually let him get her blouse and brassiere off.

The young woman had found the experience quite thrilling as Tommy spent a long time sucking on and playing with her long nipples, and she'd been thinking of his first leave home to her to possibly being the time when they'd finally do "it". After all, they were seriously talking marriage and hadn't most of the people she knew got up to all sorts of naughty things with their young men?

As she thumbed through the pages of explicit text, drawings and photographs, Jenny could feel her excitement building. Each of the men in the photos had a larger penis than what she'd seen pushing Tommy's trousers out when they'd had one of their frequent snogging sessions. It seemed natural when she began to wonder what one of those big ones would feel like inside her. One photo, in particular, caught her eye. A woman sitting in a very odd metal chair with a man between her legs, was obviously at the height of sexual pleasure. Over the next several minutes, Jenny kept returning to it as if drawn by something outside her. Studying it closely, she felt her breath growing short and her whole body tingling. If her beau had been there at that moment, she might have demanded that he do the same thing to her -- regardless of the size of his manhood.

Jenny had been reading for quite some time when she heard a noise on the gravel outside. Fearing that her boss had returned unexpectedly, the girl panicked and opened the top right drawer of the desk, literally throwing the book inside. She did not wish to risk being caught on the ladder putting the book back in it's proper place. Slamming the drawer shut, she heard a muffled thud.

As she turned off the desk lamp and got up, Jenny realized that there had been no more gravel sounds outside. Carefully peeking through the curtain, she saw the drive was empty. Sitting back behind the desk, she carefully opened the drawer. There, on top of the white book, she saw a large, old-fashioned key. Obviously it had been secreted above the drawer under the top of the desk and had been dislodged by the violent movement of her trying to hide the evidence of her reading.

Picking it up, she weighed it in her hand. "I wonder..." she thought.

Noticing the time, she quickly put the book back on the shelf, shut off the light again, tore through the basement to make sure she hadn't forgotten a light or missed locking a window, and once more found herself at the end of the corridor, facing the metal door. With her hands trembling slightly, she pulled the key from the pocket of her dress.

It fit.

Jenny looked down at the key sticking out of the lock, but didn't dare turn it. Knowing that her mum would be worrying, she put the key back in her pocket and headed home. As she walked through the dark, she considered returning the next day to try the key and see exactly what lay behind the mysterious door. "Probably just a pile of useless old junk," she said to herself as she walked down the lane towards her house.

Her mum looked up as she walked in. "Gracious, child! You're all red in the face."

Jenny had been thinking about the book she'd been looking at, and was still quite aroused, so she mumbled something about having run home and needing a bath.

She removed her clothes after carefully locking the door, then looked at herself in the mirror. Her face and upper torso were indeed flushed and her nipples stuck out long and hard and very red. Her slightly disheveled hair added to what she felt was a very sexy look.

Sliding her right hand down between her legs, she discovered that she was very wet. Her little "love button" (as Lainey jokingly called it) was also extended, hard and felt hot to the touch.

Jenny sat down on the edge of the bathtub and spread her legs. The lips underneath her sparse, light-brown pubic hair looked swollen and red.

"Goodness," she thought, "that book certainly did have an effect on me!"

Closing her eyes, she dipped her middle finger into the fluid oozing from her opening and swirled it up onto her throbbing clitoris. A sigh escaped her lips and she tilted her head back, shaking out her long hair. At that point she knew she must look very desirable indeed.

Jenny didn't masturbate often, and generally brought herself off quickly and furtively. After looking at the photos in the book, she was determined to take her time and enjoy the sensations -- just like the women in the photos.

She rubbed herself lightly and slowly, bringing herself along gradually. Her legs felt all trembly as she opened them further, pulling her lips farther away from the focus of her attention. The juices began dripping from her as she brought her other hand in to rub a finger deliciously around the rim of her opening.

Slowly a face started to form in her mind, and she soon realized that it was the portrait of the young Sir Archibald. She got the impression that he wanted to speak to her, that he could also see what she was doing to herself. The thought of this made her heart pound in her chest.

Just as Jenny was getting close, a hard fist pounded on the door right next to her head. Startled, she almost slipped backwards into the tub as her legs snapped shut and she felt her face flush with shame. Thank God she'd locked the door!

"Jenny," her mother said from the other side, "are you going to take your bath or not? I want to get dinner on the table!"

"I'm just going to draw the bath now, mum," she said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"Well just you hurry up. Don't keep me waiting all night. Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes."

Jenny sighed as she turned on the taps. No time now.

The rest of the evening her mum kept her busy with chores around their little cottage. Finally, shortly after 9:00, she bid her mother goodnight.

Once up in her room with the door firmly shut and the lights out, Jenny once again removed her clothes. All the signs of her earlier arousal had disappeared. She got in bed without putting on the cotton gown she wore on warmer nights. It felt decidedly naughty to lie there with the covers touching her nakedness. No one but her mum had ever seen her without clothes since she'd become a woman -- and then it had been by accident as her mother barged into her room one day. They'd both been embarrassed by the intrusion. Someday soon, Tommy would see her naked.

That made her think again of the earlier mental image of Sir Archibald. Lordy, he'd been a fine looking young man back in the day.

Almost idly, Jenny began playing with the nipple on her left breast as she thought about being the paramour of a wealthy aristocrat. Her body began responding again as her mind flitted between the various photos she'd seen and the portrait in the study. One of the men in the photos sort of reminded her of him. A mask hid his features, but he had the same build as the man in the portrait. The hair and long sideboards had been the same, too. Had he actually been one of the males posing for the photos? That man had possessed the largest phallus of all, she realized.

Then the young woman decided that rampant men had cocks, not penises. There was something deliciously thrilling about using that word and she decided that's what she'd call them from now on. "Cocks," she said out loud, feeling the word slide over her tongue. "Cock." Her hand slid down her belly. "Cunt. I have a cunt, and I want a cock in it. I want a cock to fuck me."

She again began to masturbate lazily, enjoying the slow buildup of her desire. This time her clitoris burned as it provided the focus to what her body was feeling. With her other hand, Jenny pulled and twisted a nipple, gently at first but then with more force and vigour as she got closer to bringing herself off.

Then as her legs began to tremble and her body was writhing underneath the covers, her mother called up from downstairs.

"Jenny, your friend Elaine is at the door."

"Bloody hell," Jenny groaned as she stopped what she was doing. "Tell her I've gone to bed," she yelled loudly. "I'll call her in the morning!"

Throwing herself onto her side, the girl knew it was no good. If she tried again now, it wouldn't feel good. She'd toyed with herself too much. Maybe she could try again tomorrow.


Jenny's Curiosity



Frustrated, she eventually fell asleep.

Sometime in the late hours of the night, she woke up to find the covers thrown back and her body covered in sweat. Her knees were pulled back and open rather obscenely, she thought.

She'd never had a dream so vivid. 

It had started out indistinctly, as dreams often do. Jenny had been on a wooded lane near her home. Someone stepped out of the brush and it had been him: Sir Archibald, dressed like he'd been in the portrait. Introducing himself, he'd asked if he could walk with her.

Jenny looked down shyly and nodded her head. After a while, they were at a stream and Archibald asked if she'd like to soak her feet in the cool water. She'd taken off her sandals and sat down on the grassy bank. He'd joined her.

Soon he'd leaned over and began kissing her with soft, gentle lips. His kisses became more insistent. She'd been swept away in the moment, and soon he was taking even more liberties, touching her breasts, pulling at her nipples through the thin cotton of her dress.

Without realizing the way it had happened, she found him on top of her, kissing her feverishly and humping his body against hers.

"I want you, Jenny. I want you," he said into her ear.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He slid down her body and propped himself on his elbows. His dark eyes flashed at her. "Will you let me send you to heaven?"

"Depends. What do you want to do?"

"This," he answered, as he pulled up her dress.

Pulling her knickers aside, he sank his tongue into her slit. He was right! The pleasure that shot through her from head to toe was indescribable. It felt like heaven.

Her rapture lasted too brief a time as she'd been wakened by a noise outside. This time, though, finding herself again drenched between her legs, her nipples hard points of desire, she reached down, wetted her fingers and began pulling at her swollen clitoris. Jenny came in a thunderous climax, the strongest she'd ever experienced, forcing her to bite her pillow to keep from screaming out.

As she pulled up the covers and drifted off to sleep, she again heard Sir Archibald's gentle voice: "I can send you to heaven."

Next morning, despite finally giving herself an orgasm during the night, Jenny was oddly tense. At breakfast her mother told her she was "like a flea on a hot griddle". No matter what she did, Jenny couldn't get the happenings of the last day out of her head. She felt tired and drained by her disturbed sleep, but keyed up.

Up in her room, trying to read her latest fashion magazine, she found she could barely concentrate. Unbidden, the image of Sir Archibald and his dashing good looks rose in her mind. Also making her uneasy was the way she'd behaved in the dream and how that had carried over into what she had thought and said as she'd made herself cum.

"I am not a slut," she told herself firmly. "I shouldn't act like one."

Elaine wasn't around to talk to, having gone off somewhere without her. That's probably why she'd stopped by the previous evening. Jenny could have used a little distraction.

After moping around the house all day, the young woman again made an early night of it. She fell asleep quickly.

Again she had a dream about the handsome aristocrat and it seemed even more real. They again met on a road, only this time it started raining and they decided to find shelter in an old barn.

Once inside, Archibald pressed himself on her and she again gave in easily. His lips were so soft and his kisses unhurried and very sweet -- unlike Tommy's feverish snogging.

This time, he opened her dress and sucked on one of her nipples while his hand stroked and pulled on the other. She found herself rapidly overtaken by desire. He rolled partially on top of her, and she could distinctly feel his throbbing erection.

The hand on her breast started lightly sliding over her stomach, making it flutter. Jenny knew she should stop him, keep him from going further, but somehow she could not. Soon his hand slipped inside her knickers and one fat finger found her slit.

"Please don't," Jenny told him. "I shouldn't."

"You know you want to, though," he rasped in her ear. "Tell me you don't, young Jenny."

She sighed, and after a moment of hesitation he began stroking between her legs again. Her orgasm quickly began to build.

"Jenny," he said to her, "you enjoy the art of love, don't you?"

For a moment she thought he was referring to the book she'd been reading in his library. Then she realized this was his way of asking if she liked what he was doing. The feelings washing over her body were so intense, so voluptuous, that she could only answer, "Oh, yes."

His finger gently massaged her clitoris bringing her up higher, then he began using his thumb as well, pulling at it as she'd done the night before. Overcome with her lust, Jenny reached down and felt along his trousers. She could not believe the size of his manhood, lying flat against his stomach. Surely, her perception had to be distorted.

Sir Archibald's fingers slowed down, their touch on her hot clit barely perceptible and she found herself growing frustrated at him toying with her.

"Just a little longer," she whimpered. "Please let me finish."

He smiled as her. "Tell me you're all mine."

"I have a boyfriend. We're going to be married."

"Tell me you're mine," he repeated.

Her sexual urges were too strong now to be ignored. She had to finish!

"I will be yours."

"Good," Sir Archibald said, "and now your reward."

Leaning over he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and then bit down rather hard. the pain pushed Jenny over the edge, causing her to scream out as her body thrashed around next to her lover.

The rain started falling harder, pounding onto the roof of the barn loudly. The girl suddenly became aware that it was someone knocking on the door. Coming up out of her heavy sleep, she knew it was her mother at her door.

"Jenny, dear!" What is going on in there? Are you all right?"

"Just a bad dream, mum," she answered groggily. "I'm all right."

Reassured, her mother turned and went back downstairs. Jenny looked at her bedside clock. It was only half eleven.

This time she was awake for hours, thinking about the end of her dream, as she'd been fighting her way to consciousness. Sir Archibald's voice echoed in her ears: "Come to me, Jenny. I want you and you want me. You know where to go."

Her body throbbed, still humming with desire, but she could not bring herself to do anything about it. It was as if something or someone was preventing it.

Early next morning, Jenny's hands were shaking as she fitted the key into the outside below-stairs door of Flamborough Hall.

I must be crazy, she thought. I could get in so much trouble for this! What in heaven's name has come over me?

Looking around for any prying eyes that might have seen her, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her, and stood there for a minute, trying to calm her nerves. The house was silent as a tomb.

Going quickly upstairs, she went to the library, retrieved the white book from the high shelf and thumbed to the page with the photo of the man making love to the woman in that strange chair. Staring at it, she felt certain this was indeed Sir Archibald behind the mask.

Jenny turned to the large portrait of him over the mantel. He seemed to be staring down at her with a quizzical smile on his face. She shrugged it off as a trick of the artist who'd painted it. Her eyes dropped down to his trousers and she gasped as she realized the outline of his erect penis could be seen if one looked closely. It was flat against his abdomen and reached past his belt. If the painting was accurate, it must have been enormous.

She looked again at the book. Only part of his penis could be seen in the photo, but it was obvious now that a great deal of it must be inside the woman. No wonder she appeared to be swooning!

The dreams of the past few days came back to her. She could play them back in her head like a show on the telly. The orgasms she'd experienced were like nothing she could have imagined. Could she ever enjoy something like that in waking life? The mere thought of it made her wet.

A wicked thought came into her head. If she rearranged the shelf where the book had been, spreading things out a bit, no one would ever know it had been there. Jenny was sure the person cataloguing the library hadn't gotten to that case yet. The book would be hers. It was a matter of only a few minutes work to accomplish. Her face burned hot as she put the book into her shoulder bag.

Jenny left the room and made her way below stairs. She should be going home soon, but she knew she wouldn't do that until she'd peeked inside the locked room.

Her hands had become sweaty and she fumbled with the heavy key, almost dropping it. The old lock accepted the key smoothly, making the nervous girl think of a cock slipping into a cunt.

Where had that nasty thought come from?

She grabbed the handle and pulled hard. The door barely moved. Putting one foot on the frame, she pulled harder, leaning back as the door started to swing open. It was very thick and very heavy, easily several hundred pounds.

The room had no windows so she could only see a few feet into it. Unlike the rest of the house, the floor was clean as if it had just been swept. The Reeves' must have been caring for it ever since Sir Archibald left. Why?

Jenny stepped forward to feel for a light switch. The door, obviously on a spring was pushing against her and its weight made it hard to hold back. As she leaned in a bit farther, something ran across her sandaled foot. Probably merely a mouse, but it startled her and she lifted her foot. The weight of the door easily overbalanced her and she tumbled into the room. The crash of the door slamming shut nearly deafened her.

Bugger! she thought, then realized it was utterly black around her.

Panic started to close in and she scrambled to her feet. Pushing as hard as she could on the door, she could not move it.

Jenny knew she had to have light. To be stuck alone in this blackness would be too much to bear. Groping, she found the door frame and felt along the wall farther and farther until she found a light switch.

"Please, God, let it work," she said out loud.

Glorious light flooded the room, far brighter than anything she would have expected. She turned around and gasped. There on a raised dais in the centre of the room under the brightest lights of all stood that strange chair from the photo in the book.

Fighting down her panic, Jenny turned to look at the door. It's inside was smooth and polished, so it seemed like a large mirror. The eyes gazing back at her seemed calmer than she felt. All the bright lights certainly helped in that regard.

They'll all be back here tomorrow, she thought, and eventually they'll find me. Mum is going to completely freak out over my not coming home tonight, though.

Then it hit her that they would find her in this room. How could she possibly explain her way out of it?

She slipped off her shoulder bag and began an inspection of her prison. Without the bright lights on, it probably would have been very cold and damp. That was a lucky thing considering she'd probably have to spend the entire night in here.

It was roughly 30' by 30' and the stone walls made it feel a lot like a dungeon. Jenny found out how accurate that was when she reached the far wall. Mounted into the stone were manacles and leg irons to hold three people. She shivered. What had Sir Archibald and his friends gotten into down here? Had he really been a debaucher of young ladies as Lainey had said?

One side of the room had cabinets and cupboards. Inside these Jenny found jars of exotic-smelling oils, clothing (mostly togas and the like), more restraining devices, and in one very wide drawer lined with velvet, row upon row of glass phalluses of all different shapes, colours and sizes, some in quite bizarre shapes.

Jenny idly picked one up and the air around her seemed to crackle. She faintly detected the presence of someone or something, so she quickly put it back. What she'd been finding in the room was making her uncomfortable, but also more curious about the late owner of the building.

The fourth wall was lined with beds as she discovered when she lifted the sheets covering them. It was not hard to guess what their purpose was. Mirrors were mounted on the ceiling above each.

Once again back at the door, she tried to get it to open, but it remained immovable. At least the key was sticking out the other side and would probably be very obvious to anyone. She could only hope they would get down to searching the place as soon as possible, maybe even tonight -- if she were lucky.

The room was now getting quite warm, so Jenny took off her sandals to enjoy the feel of the cold stone. Sitting down on one of the beds, she lay back and looked at the ceiling. It was also made of the same rough, gray stone. She could yell herself hoarse and not stand the remotest chance of anyone hearing her.

With nothing else to do, she retrieved the book from her shoulder bag.

Once more, looking through the book, made her feel decidedly horny. Now that she'd seen the room, she knew where several more of the photographs had been taken. A careful inspection of the book revealed that a number more had been taken in various rooms of the mansion. Maybe this book was a private printing by Sir Archibald himself since there was no listing of any publisher in the front.

She put the book down a number of times but kept picking it up to look at the pictures and read the descriptions. She recognized the velvet-lined drawer in a photo in a section dedicated to the use of phalluses. Jenny studied the description of methods used to give a woman pleasure and began to feel her face grow hot.

I have a lot of time to kill, she thought, I might as well enjoy myself a bit.

She went over to the drawer and slid it open. The phalluses gleamed in the light like jewels. Here eyes were drawn to exotically-shaped ones with knobs on the glass, huge heads, bends and the like. The top row had over two dozen of basically the same shape and design, starting with ones about 4" and narrow, to the biggest which was probably 12" and very thick. The head on it was huge. She doubted any woman could fit it inside.

One, she guessed was near the size of Tommy, so she reached out for this first. This time nothing odd happened. The phallus was curiously warm in her hands, as if someone had recently been holding it. A thought came into her mind: she needed something to lubricate it a bit. If she was going to do it with her beau, she might well use her time in this room to gain a little experience.

Soon she was back at the bed with the glass phallus and a jar of pleasant-smelling oil. The bed was covered with a beautiful counterpane and she didn't want to stain it with the oil.

Why not use the metal chair contraption? Any mess there could be easily cleaned up.

Four bright spotlights shone down on the round 12' dais it was mounted on and as Jenny stepped up, all the other lights in the room dimmed, as if she were stepping onto a stage. The chair had arms with hand grips, a thick centre post holding it up, legs with foot rests, all jointed much like a human body. The seat and back were also sculpted to provide form-fitting support.

Sitting down gingerly on it, she found it surprisingly comfortable and quite warm from the lights. Putting her feet under the bar on the foot rests, she was surprised how snugly it fit. If she moved her legs, the chair's legs followed. The hand grips on the arms were the same. Plus there were two buttons on the right hand one. Jenny quickly found if you pressed one button, the chair locked into position. Pressed the other and it released.

Very smart design, she thought. Archibald was a clever man.

She leaned back in the chair, its shape cradling her body, and slid her buttocks forward. Spreading her legs, the chair's legs followed smoothly. At that point she realized that she still needed to remove her knickers.

Jenny sat up again, moving the chair to its neutral position. She dismounted from it, slipped her cotton knickers down her legs, then picked up the phallus and lightly lubricated it and herself with some oil. Sitting back down, she moved the chair to a position where she was leaning back slightly with her legs spread and bent a bit at the knees. Locking it in place, she held the phallus with two hands began running it up and down her slit.

Ohhhhh. It felt SO nice. Would Tommy feel this good if he did the same to her? She couldn't wait to find out. The rim of the phallus head pushed at her opening so insistently and deliciously that she felt her passion quickly rise.

When she'd taken it out of the case, she hadn't intended to use it inside her. When her virginity was taken it should be taken by a real cock, not one made of glass! But now that resolve was beginning to waver. Everyone said that losing your cherry could hurt a lot and wouldn't that ruin the experience? Perhaps she could push it in a bit and see what it felt like.

Shutting her eyes to focus her concentration, she heard Archibald's voice in her head.

"That's it, my lovely Jenny. Pleasure yourself. Feel the erotic heat coursing through your body. You look so beautiful doing that."

Jenny sighed and pressed the glass rod in a bit farther. Its head hit something, then pushed through quite easily. Before she knew what had happened, it was completely inside of her, and it had been almost completely painless. Her hips began moving as she moved the phallus slowly in and out.

"Can that tiny thing in your sweet cunny really give you much pleasure?" the voice in her head asked.

"It's the size of my Tommy," she answered.

"Your Tommy can't be much of a man. There's a special one in the drawer, just perfect for you. It's on the far end of the second row. It's made of red glass."

Jenny knew the voice was right. A quick trip over to the velvet drawer and she was back with the more "endowed" phallus.

"Remove your clothes, Jenny. No one is here to see you and you wouldn't want to mess them, would you?"

It made perfect sense, so she did that, folding them neatly and putting them on one of the beds. Catching a view of herself in the mirrored back of the door, she thought she looked very, very good, sexy, in control. Imagining the handsome lord was actually present in the room made it all seem so much more deliciously naughty. Wait until she told Lainey about her experience!

Once back in position on the chair, Jenny toyed with herself a bit, running the glass tip of the phallus over her clitoris and up and down her slit. When she couldn't hold back any longer, she plunged its full length inside her. It hurt a bit in her unprepared vagina, but she soon relaxed and it felt much, much different than the "Tommy-sized" one.

"Oh yes, that's ever so much better," she told the voice.

"I knew you'd like it. I love watching a beautiful woman like you do herself."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course. You are very lovely. And you certainly raise my, um, temperature."

The voice's comment made her giggle.

Feeling as if he was actually watching made the girl feel positively saucy and she began thrusting the phallus lustily inside herself, performing in her imagination for her dashing rogue.

"That's it, Jenny. Good..."

As her desire rose, the phallus seemed to heat up and swell, feeling larger and larger inside her. She put it down to the fact that she was getting more sensitive until it actually bumped her cervix. Her fingers also seemed to no longer wrap completely around it, either.

All the while, the voice of her phantom lover urged her on, telling her again and again how beautiful and desirable she was, how no man could ever resist her. Her impressionable ego, feeding on these heady compliments, stoked the fire glowing in her loins, until all she could think about was the plunging phallus bringing her upwards and upwards.




Jenny's Curiosity



"Are you going to cum soon, my love?" the voice cooed close to her ear. "If you cum hard enough, it will make me real, allow me to come to you and make you mine. Would you like to be the lady of my manor?"

The poor girl was too far gone into a sexual haze to realize just what the voice was saying. Her body was totally in control of her mind, its needs and wants superseding her intellect.

"Oh yes, yes! Make me yours."

"Say it again, my sweet Jenny. Then all you have to do is cum hard, and you will be mine," the voice whispered directly into her ear, and she could almost feel its tickling breath.

So strong was the voice's hold on her mind, Jenny could almost see him, and remembering how he'd mastered her in her dreams, she gripped the phallus more strongly. It felt huge inside her, filling her completely as she plunged it in and out of her cunt faster and faster.

"Oh God, Archibald! Yes, yes, yes! I am yours! I'm going to...I'm going to...I'm going to cum...I'm going to...AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH."

The young woman's body writhed and thrashed uncontrollably as wave after wave of bliss washed through her, sending her to a pleasure beyond anything she could have imagined.

Jenny lay there panting, spent, the limp hands still holding the phallus partially inside her cunt. It felt much smaller again and she wondered if she'd imagined it all. Her juices continued to drip down onto her slack hands and then to the concrete of the dais.

A sound to her left made her turn her head. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

It was Sir Archibald Fairchild.

"You...you're here?"

The figure moved into the light, tall and commanding, dressed as he'd been in the portrait.

"You brought me back, Jenny, by what you just did. And now I can truly make you mine."

Her lust slacked, the woman was more aware, more cautious. "How can you do that?"

Archibald looked sad. "You said that you were mine and I have said I was yours. Don't you wish to be the Lady of Flamborough Hall?"

Part of Jenny realized that none of this could be real. Sir Archibald was dead and he'd died an old man. His estate had been given to the country. She couldn't be the lady of anything.

But his dark eyes held hers, drawing her in, confusing her thinking. This was all a dream, but it felt so lovely, perhaps it was all right to live in it a bit longer.

"Now, Jenny, just lean back into the chair and relax. Close your eyes. That's it. Relax. Good. Now those two buttons under your right hand, press them both at once."

Jenny did as she was told and felt clamps snapping closed over her wrists and ankles, fastening her to the chair.

Her eyes flew open as she felt the restraints, and she immediately began struggling. Realizing the vulnerability of her situation, she madly pressed the buttons in a futile attempt to make the chair release her.

"What's going on!" she shouted. "Let me go!"

"I will very soon, little Jenny. But first, I want to make sweet love to you. It's been so long since I've had a girl as lovely as you."

"No! I won't do it. Let me go!"

"Jenny, Jenny," he said coming right up next to her. "You have no choice. Surely, after your dreams and reading my special book, you knew what would happen if you came here. I know your appetites. You really do want this."

"I won't while you've got me fastened to this bloody chair," she said, twisting her body back and forth as she tried to pull her limbs free. "You bastard! Let me go!"

Sir Archibald waited until she'd exhausted herself. "Now all you've done is made yourself tired and sore. I know how to make you feel better."

He knelt between Jenny's outstretched legs and began kissing up the insides of her thighs. At first she continued to thrash around, but soon realized it was futile. What Sir Archibald was doing also felt very good. As he moved closer and closer to the junction of her legs, she began to get aroused once again.

After many minutes of teasing, she could feel his hot breath on her lips and when his tongue finally touched her swollen clitoris, she came massively. He barely let her come down before he started licking again. Sliding two fingers into her hot cunt, he touched a spot that made her body sing. Soon, between his fingers and his lips and tongue, Jenny was in an almost constant state of orgasm.

Then suddenly, as she was approaching the highest peak yet, he stopped. She fell back into the chair, panting and very, very frustrated. Her body ached from straining against Sir Archibald's onslaught, but she wanted more.

Silently her lover began removing his clothes.

His cock, stuck straight out from his groin, hugely swollen and an angry red colour. The head was a big as a good-sized peach and the shaft was as thick as the girl's wrist. It had to be over a foot long. 

He moved forward until the massive head of his cock nestled into Jenny's slit, pushing the lips far apart. Taking the jar of oil, he spread some of its contents over his manhood and rubbed the bit on Jenny. Her hips thrust up at his fingers with a mind of their own.

Stepping forward, the girl looked down as his cock touched her opening. Almost idly, the aristocrat began pulling and tweaking her nipples, again inflaming her lust.

"Do you want this, Jenny?"

She looked down at his massive tool, resting against her slit.

"It's too big. It won't fit."

Sir Archibald, using his other hand guide it, began lightly teasing her clitoris with his rampant cock. Despite her unease, Jenny's body shuddered with desire.

"If you want it to, it will. Let me make you mine, Jenny."

He began rocking slightly and the head of his cock pushed at her open. It felt quite amazing as the pressure pulled her clitoris downward, stretching the skin of its hood in a most delicious way.

Finally, her lover flexed his hips and pushed a bit harder. She could feel her body resist for a moment, then the enormous head just popped in. The pain was very harsh for a moment. He did not move further.

"Oh my God. It's so huge. I can't take it. Please, take it out!"

"Little Jenny, you simply need to relax. I WILL have you, so you must relax."

She closed her eyes, willing her muscles to accommodate his girth. Part of her really wanted this to happen and part of her was repelled, but her female desire was in the ascendency once again. Deep down, Jenny wanted to please him.

A mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking deeply and tightly. She sighed at the feeling. Then a second mouth closed on her other one, doing the same. Her eyes shot open and while she could see the tender flesh being worked and getting wet, the mouths working her over remained unseen.

"What's happening to me?" she asked.

Sir Archibald, looming over her like a dark cloud, said, "I'm going to take you to heaven, Jenny."

The chair moved backward with her body, until she was nearly supine. The cock invaded her cunt a bit farther, and this time it didn't feel quite so uncomfortable. The sensation of fullness was actually quite extraordinary.

"Oh sweet, sweet Jenny. Your cunt is so tight around me."

Her desire flamed upward at his words, higher than ever. "Fuck me, Archibald. I must have all of your cock -- even if it kills me."

Jenny put her head back, and immediately felt something brush her lips. Nothing was visible, but she opened her mouth and felt the hard, yet soft flesh of an invisible erection slide into her mouth.

At first she was shocked, but soon began to enjoy what was happening to her, trying to swallow as much of it as possible. At the same time, she could feel Sir Archibald pressing forward in his conquest of her innermost secrets. With a gasp, she felt the huge head of his cock slide forward, piercing her womb.

It was at this point that she became lost. The flames were being fanned, all parts of her body were beginning to sing with sexual joy as she felt hands, mouths, and cocks servicing every need that she could have. With a final grunt, she realized that her new love had buried his magnificent tool completely inside her. He began fucking her with long, long, slow strokes, as she tried to comfortably accommodate his massive tool.

Jenny slipped into a place where pain became pleasure and pleasure became something transcendent.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The girl was found at 11:00 the next morning. After waiting half an hour for Jenny to arrive, Mrs. Tilbury, called Jenny's home only to be told that she had disappeared the previous night and that the police were searching for her.

Wasting no time, the door to Flamborough Hall was forced and a search of the building commenced. Half an hour later, the key in the metal door was noticed and the room was opened.

Rumours of what the searchers found inside have circulated through the surrounding county since then, but none of the people actually present have ever spoken publicly of what they witnessed.

In the sealed police report, though, can be found a Detective Sergeant Townsend's account:

"We pulled open the heavy door and the smell that assailed our nostrils can only be described in terms of a brothel. Mrs. Tilbury, the representative of the National Trust fainted dead away.

There, on a raised dais in the room's centre, in a metal chair that can only be described as diabolical in its design, we saw the unfortunate girl, fastened to it by bands around her wrists and ankles, and writhing as if being consumed alive. We moved closer, calling to her and received no response.

How long she'd been there, we do not know, but it had certainly been many hours. Her body was bathed in sweat and the skin around her wrists and ankles rubbed raw and bloody by the bands holding them to the chair. Somehow, she must have sat on it and accidentally activated the mechanism it contained, and could not get away. With no one in the house and with the thickness of the walls and ceiling, her cries would not have been noticed in any event.

What will stick in my mind forever was her naked body, covered with many bites and marks. Her vagina gaped open and moved in and out. Although impossible to explain, it was the impression of everyone present that something we could not see was fornicating with the young lady in the most violent way imaginable. Surprisingly, though, she was meeting this onslaught with what seemed to be extreme pleasure.

As I mounted the dais, she cried out as spasms shook her body and she slowly stopped moving. A copious amount of white fluid (later identified as semen) was expelled from her body, and despite our efforts to revive her as we sought to release her from the chair, Jenny Smith soon expired.

I cannot begin to explain what we saw, I can only report it. God rest her soul."

Final note from the police report: Flamborough Hall was struck by lightning during a storm three days later and burnt to the ground. The property was later turned into a housing estate, but no house stands on the spot once occupied by Sir Archibald Fairchild's mansion.