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The Innocent

By: jmbasquiat_fan



The last day of Gort, Village Woodhaven: 9pm

"I know she looks innocent. And sweet. And helpless. But she'll breed the Velvet Nocturne same as all the other scum we're hunting, and don't you forget it." He glanced to his compatriot, his trainee, then down at the pale, fragile looking little girl at his feet. "Sorry honey, it's nothing personal; just doing my job. You got the Mark, you gotta die." He thumbed the custom trigger on his crossbow, and the silver-plated bolt flew straight into the girl's eye with a sickening noise. Her blood spilled onto the cobbled road and ate through the stone. He and his companion wisely backed away as the foul-smelling liquid spread and ignited, burning the corpse and scorching the building behind it. A mild burnt garlic smell wafted upward on the warm autumn drafts as he turned to the young woman watching.

"Cleanup crew'll get her before sunlight. No one will see- that. She makes three for tonight; I think you've had enough. Come on, kid, I'll buy you supper at the pub." Draping his arm around his student's shoulders he dragged her away. He felt sorry for the kid. It wasn't really her choice she was now his subordinate, after all. Barely eighteen, she'd been married to her arranged fiancé for all of five hours when he and another Hunter busted her door in. He had dragged her off and inspected her for the Mark. She was lucky; she didn't have it. Her new husband- well, she was also lucky she hadn't seen what happened to him. Hunter Rickman wasn't as neat or as nice. He had mutilated the man with those twin silver daggers of his and then burned the house down "to avoid contagion".

Shaking his head free of the memories that gripped him, he noticed she'd stopped and he'd kept going a couple feet. "Hunter Alexander...? Harry's Swan is a street back." He looked over behind him and gave her a sheepish half smile.

"So it is, Squirt."

"I wish you'd call me Magdalena. Or Maggie. Or Lena. Anything but 'squirt' or 'kid'! I am old enough to marry, you know." She did her best to flounce indignantly through the door. The illusion was spoiled when she tripped over the slightly raised wooden floor and had to catch herself on his outstretched arm.

"How about an accord?" he proposed. "I call you by your name when you can walk in here without tripping ... deal?" She looked let down. He didn't care. She was a temporary, a possible candidate for the plague, and she had to be watched. How he got stuck with her he didn't know and he didn't particularly care. He knew she fell every time they went to Harry's, so he'd never have to try and remember her name. She glared at him, but her chocolate brown eyes were far too warm-toned in color for him to feel any real venom behind the daggers she shot at him.

"Fine." She flounced to his- their- usual table in a manner that made him almost laugh out loud. She was already annoyed, though, and the way she was walking meant she was trying to be dignified to get over her embarrassment at nearly falling. He motioned to the innkeeper, who held up two fingers. Nodding he went to sit beside his charge.

"Usual tonight, kid." When she made a face he said, "You should learn to like mutton since you'll be eating it enough while you're with me." Inwardly he groaned... women. Why'd they always have to be so bloody picky?

"So... Why do we use silver? Why not iron, it's cheaper to get and stronger too." Oh God, she's getting curious. That's another thing with women... Too damned nosy, he thought. Out loud he said, "It's because iron won't cause the cleansing fire, and the contagion will spread. We have to control the virus or the Velvet Nocturne would spread like wildfire, and then those damned leeches would be popping up everywhere we looked."

"How does it spread? I'm fine, and I used to see my fiancé every day, and we were in close quarters for hours before you came." She gulped back a few tears- he noticed she was getting better at that as time passed.

"Yeah, but you didn't exchange blood or bodily fluids. It's a type of venereal disease. The virus is found in bodily fluids. It gets inside and re-orders your DNA. I dunno how it keeps the host from exploding, what with us humans needing to breathe oxygen and all, but they produce bacteria that give off acetylene gas which bonds with the host's blood. That's why we use silver weapons. They poke holes that allow extra oxygen in and the silver acts as an igniter for the acetylene. Then they go up. Depending on how old they are, they'll burn fast or slow. The older ones are fun- like fireworks. They go up in a fireball and sparks- the virus has been in longer, produced more bacteria that in turn make more acetylene... walking bombs, really."

She had blushed heavily during the mention of how one would contract the disease. He wondered momentarily if it was his description or the obvious affirmation of her virginity that caused the blush. She's actually rather beautiful like that... Don't find many pretty virgins nowadays, with all the pretty girls getting married early... He shook the trailing thought away and downed his ale in one gulp. When the food arrived he was too busy gulping it down to answer any more questions, and on the walk back to their room at the Balmly Inn the girl was silent.

Samhain Eve, Village Breckholm: 8:43am

It was on the third day of Ngetel, the "Eve of Horrors" that she asked the most dangerous question a Hunter's apprentice could ever ask. Just thinking on it made Hunter Alexander shudder... Isn't there a cure, she'd asked him. She was looking up at him now, waiting for an answer.

"You don't need to know. I like you alive." He kissed her hard enough to stun an ox, left her collapsed in a flustered heap on the ground, and stalked off after the leech they'd come to kill. "Come on, Squirt!" he hollered harshly over his shoulder. "This one's been terrorizing the village... Let's GO!"

That kill was the only time he missed a target with his first shot since he graduated from Apprentice to Novitiate.

Samhain Eve, Village Woodhaven: 10:30pm

"Why did you kiss me?" It was the first thing out of her mouth once they got back to their room at the Balmly Inn, and a question he wasn't in the mood to answer. He headed to the bathroom then stopped and turned around.

"If you need to take a piss, do it now. I'm gonna be in the tub a long while, Squirt." His voice sounded raw, even to him. He didn't blame her for looking sullen and shuffling to use the facilities without a word. She didn't come back out, and when he knocked he found the door ajar. He could see her sitting on the edge of the tub, crying.

He sighed, then pushed the door open and went in. She wiped her face hastily and got up, refusing to look at him as she tried to push past him. Oh, no you don't, he thought as he grabbed her by the shoulders and planted himself firmly in front of her. "What's wrong? Are you upset because I kissed you, or are you upset because I won't tell you why I kissed you?" When she shook her head, he shook her by her shoulders. "You ain't getting off that easy. What is it? I can't have my apprentice screwed up in the head when you're supposed to be watching my back!"

She looked up at him, hurt. "What," she demanded, "I'm not supposed to be upset that you almost never answer my questions? That I'll never know if the man I was supposed to spend my life with could have been cured instead of killed? That- that you..." She bit her lip and looked down again, blushing furiously pink in that way that made her so beautiful.

"That I what?" He pulled her face up, but she still wouldn't look him in the eye. Damn it to hell, he thought, and damn that pretty blush of hers, too. "Magdalena, that I what?"

Immediately her face darkened to a rich crimson. "That you kissed me better than he ever did... That I feel like I need something... and..." she whispered and trailed off. Her eyes flitted up to his, and he almost gasped out loud. She must have thought she was angry with him; as a virgin she couldn't possibly understand that the feeling showing in her eyes wasn't rage. It was lust- pure and unbridled passion, locked up and waiting to be released with the right man. He closed his eyes and leaned his head down to hers. Softly he kissed her lips, all the while wondering what the hell he was doing. He was fully 23 years older- enough to make him her father! Suddenly he was aware of her melting into him, and of the moment when shock wore off and her eyes closed. He could feel her eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

As he drew back he heard a quiet groan of disappointment from her. He opened his eyes to the sight of her standing there, her own cocoa-colored eyes closed, her lips still pursed, her body finely trembling in arousal. He wished he had gotten her stays when she'd asked for them. Her breasts were tempting him through the shirt, her nipples hardened and poking out as if begging him to touch them. He groaned and turned away for the bathtub. Her footsteps came up behind him, and her small hand went between his shoulder blades.

"Hunter Alexander? I... I never had a wedding night..."

"Are you sure you want one now?" It was almost an impossible invitation to resist, but he did it for a few moments more. He wanted her to be absolutely sure this was what she desired. When he turned back to her, she nodded her wordless assent, he started filling the tub. As he returned to her he began to remove her clothing. He ran his hands over her as he undressed her, each of his touches coercing another moan from her lips. Soon she stood fully nude before him and he removed his own clothes. She blushed shyly and looked away, though he caught her fleeting glances over his various scars.

When the tub was filled halfway, he picked her up and set her down in the water. He eased in after her and shut the water off, then started bathing her gently with the soft washcloth. Working his way up her legs, he noticed they were spreading of their own accord. Her breathing was coming faster and her whole body had a rosy glow. He slid his fingers up into the slit between her nether lips. When she jumped and her eyes flew open, he stroked her little nubbin and her stomach lightly, eliciting moans and shudders. He continued to massage her love-button as he moved to gently squeeze her breasts.

When she came he pulled his hand away from her slit and rubbed her thighs. Her hands reached out for him and he obliged willingly. He'd been hard for her for some time, but needed her to be ready. He sunk his shaft into her slowly and watched for any pain. There was none and so he began to stroke lightly in and out of her, watching her virgin blood blend with the water. She was holding him tightly and crying out into his chest when he felt her come again. He groaned in ecstasy and sped his pace. She moaned loudly and laid back, her arms crossed over her chest. He kissed her and swallowed her cries when he started to pump her in earnest. Orgasm hit him without warning, and he gave a final slam as his cock twitched inside her and he grunted into her mouth. She struggled against the hard thrust but he pinned her to keep her still until he collapsed, spent, onto her chest. Moaning quietly still, she showered the top of his head with light kisses.

When he came to his senses she was bathing him with the cooled water and kissing his neck. After she bathed him, he bathed her and they stepped out of the water. She giggled at his manly hands being wrinkled, and he teased her about her delicate toes looking like delicious peach-colored raisins. They collapsed into the bed together, naked, and slept in each other's arms...

To be continued... 

The Innocent Bride



Silicia lay trembling in the dark tent. She had no idea when the men would disband and her terror would begin. Three days ago she had been safe and sound in her bed with her sisters when her mother had come and taken her, her few belongings, and placed them into a cart, kissing her daughter and wishing her peace. Silicia would never see her family again. Today she had been married off to a stranger in a strange land and now awaited his completion of the contract.

She had known it was a possibility, but somehow never believed her father would do it to her. It happened among her people with some frequency. A traveling trader or craftsman would come through their village and contract for an unmarried woman to take as his wife, or sometimes for a son or nephew, and she would disappear, never to be seen again.

After travelling in a small, covered cart for more than a day, Silicia had heard the sounds of village life filter through the rough canvas walls. Not long after, two women had roughly pulled her from the cart and rushed her into a women's tent where they proceeded to scrub her from tip to toe, then bathe her in scented oils and torture her hair into a tight knot on top of her head. They gowned her in a fitted robe that never would have been allowed in her own village, veiled her face and head so that she could only see the vague outlines of things, then paraded her to a gathering of men where they left her seated on a stool raised up on some kind of small stage.

The men then came and gawked at her, pointing and commenting in a language similar to her own, but just enough different that she only understood part of what they were saying. It seemed they were discussing her merits as a wife, whether she would breed well, how enjoyable owning her might be, and, as the night drew late and the men became drunk, what her attributes in the bedroom might be. Silicia was horrified by all of this, but terrified to move, to try to escape. No one touched her at least.

When the room finally became quiet and Silicia was practically sliding from the stool in exhaustion, someone led her out of the men's tent and back to the women who disrobed her and placed her on a mat in their midst. There she was watched constantly up until this morning when she was robed in a flowing red gown and veil and taken to another gathering of men where she was married. She was never asked a thing, never spoke a word, never saw her husband. Now she lay waiting for him to commit the act her mother and aunt had told her about just a few months earlier.

She shivered, even though the night was warm, the tent stuffy. Her mother had tried to soften the blow of learning what would be expected of her as a wife, while her aunt had been full of dire warnings. While mother had come to love father, and found their joinings not entirely unpleasant, Aunt Rashon found the act abhorrent. Silicia thought her mother soon regretted letting her aunt join them for that talk, when her aunt insisted on explaining just how painful the first time was, and how men enjoyed it so much, they attempted to make it painful always. Mother disagreed, but her gentle manner prevented her arguing with her sister.

Silicia would soon form her own opinion. The sounds of merriment were decreasing, and she shivered again in trepidation. The tent was dark but for one small lamp on the hook near the door. Silicia wished there was somewhere to hide, but the tent was bare except for that one lamp and the animal skins on which she lay. She had not even been given anything but a single length of sheer fabric with which to cover her body.

Men were approaching. Their voices were low, the tone joking. A deep rumble came from just outside the door, saying thanks, and wishing the others peace. After a pause, the flap raised and a bear of a man entered quickly, snuffing the lantern as he passed.

Silicia held her breath as he appeared to remove his outer robes in the darkness. She found herself scooting up the skins, pressing back against the canvas wall. The man suddenly sat at the end of the skin bed.

"Wife?" he asked, voice deep and low, with perhaps just a hint of insecurity.

Silicia didn't know what to do. If he reached out a hand, he would find her, cringing up the bed. "Yes," she squeaked out in a tiny voice.

"I am Matteo," he replied, more confident, but still quiet, barely more than a growl.

She didn't speak. He would know her name already, and she really had nothing to say to him.

Matteo moved toward her, and she cringed. He must have felt her movement, because he stopped, lowering his reaching hand to his side.

"I do not mean you harm, wife. I wish only to hold your hand, with your permission," he explained.

Before she knew what she was saying, Silicia responded, "I do not think that is the only thing required this night."

She bit her tongue the moment it was said. Such a bold thing had never before crossed her lips to any male. She would not be surprised if he struck her for it.

After a moment of silence, a deep rumbling laugh emanated from the man. "Aye, you are right there, my wife. But I do not feel the need to rush you. I thought we could take some time to become acquainted. Would you come a little closer?"

Silicia moved a few inches closer. "Why did you extinguish the light?"

"I thought you might be more comfortable in the dark. Would you prefer it back on?"

Silicia was surprised he had been concerned with her comfort. "Yes please. I would like to see with whom it is I speak," she felt silly speaking so formally, but she wanted to be understood, and her dialect was enough different from his that it made her nervous, changing her speech patterns.

He laughed again, but lit the lantern and placed it near the head of the bed. She looked at him as he went about this little task, noticing his solid build, dark hair and skin, and tall stature.

"Is that more to your liking?" he asked, smiling at her.

She gasped! He was very handsome, smiling, eyes glittering in the lantern light. He waited, and she remembered he had asked her a question.

"Yes. Thank you...Matteo," she said his name shyly. She had never spoken to a man outside her family before, and never referred to one by his first name.

"You are quite beautiful, Silicia," he said, reaching his hand out toward hers.

She let him lay his hand over hers, then lift her hand and wrap his around it. His hand was so large and warm. She felt a tingle at the base of her neck.

He was still smiling at her, and she didn't know what to say or do. She had not expected to sit and talk with her new husband, and had no clue how to talk to a man.

"I am sorry my father purchased you so abruptly from your family. I had asked that he approach your family for an engagement, but he did not wish to return in a month to collect you, preferring to bring you here immediately."

"You asked for me specifically? But how did you even know of me?" Silicia asked, confused.

"I saw you, just briefly, a year ago when I travelled through your village with my father. I have thought of you often since. You were chasing a toddler who had wandered away from the women. You caught the child up in your arms, both of you giggling with delight. I couldn't help but hope to hear that laughter again."

Silicia did not remember the time in particular, and was very surprised it had made an impression on the man before her. She smiled shyly and looked away.

"Please don't turn away from me, Silicia. I don't mean to make you self-conscious." He reached out his free hand and touched her face, turning her chin to bring her eyes back to his. He held her there, then releasing her hand, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers very lightly.

The feeling was shocking. Silicia could smell wood fire and musk, and her lips tingled as her neck had earlier. She sucked in a breath, which seemed to embolden him. Matteo leaned in, moving the hand on her chin around to the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her hair hanging free down her back. His lips made firm contact with hers, and he moved them against her in a way she could never have imagined. Her own lips answered his. She felt his tongue slide along her lower lip, and as she gasped again, his tongue to slid into her mouth.

She jerked back, but his hand held her tight to him. His tongue dipped into her mouth, touching her tongue, her palate, and running across her gums. The sensation was amazing. She tentatively touched her tongue to his, and he rubbed his along hers in a dance that set her nerves on fire. A small moan escaped her throat, and his groan answered it as he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into his lap.

He released her lips after another minute, running kisses up her jaw line and stopping to nibble her ear lobe. He pulled back, running his hand through her hair.

"So beautiful!" he breathed.

She found herself panting for breath, and he smiled at her, this time with a hint of wolfish delight in his eyes. She gasped again as he lowered his head and licked up her neck, from collar bone to chin, then kissed her more deeply than before. She found her tongue answering his, stroke for stroke.

She felt Matteo start to remove the sheer fabric she had around her torso and over her shoulder. She reached to stop him, but he gently removed her hand and proceeded to unwrap her only clothing. When he had her naked, he stroked her shoulder, down her arm, lifting her hand to his own shoulder, then stroked back up her arm and down her side. She shuddered as his fingers drifted past her breast, causing him to smile again. When his hand reached her hip, it went behind her, and leaning in toward her, he guided her back onto the skins.

He kissed her again, settling his body along her left side, and his hand stroked up from her hip, across her stomach, and came to rest lightly cupping her breast.

She stiffened at so intimate a touch, but his response was to increase the battle of his tongue against hers, distracting her. When she relaxed, he stroked the breast in his hand, twirling his fingers around it in circles, closing in on her nipple which he brushed lightly with his thumb.

Her back arched of its own accord, and suddenly his mouth was on the nipple, licking it, sucking gently, kissing the tip, then licking again. Silicia found herself pressing into his mouth, her hand somehow tangled in his hair, holding him to her breast as a mother holds a newborn, little moans slipping from her throat.

She had no idea what these feelings were she was experiencing. Her mother and aunt didn't tell her any of this, and she had no point of reference. Matteo seemed to be enjoying suckling at her breast, and he smiled wickedly when she arched and moaned.

"My wife likes my touch," he whispered, still licking her nipple, but running his hand down her side, down her leg, then back up the inside of her thigh.

Her hips flexed into his hand. The tingling he caused with every touch was concentrating between her legs. She had seen the mating of the family's goats, understood the basic mechanics of her duty as wife, but never expected to feel such intense sensations at the hands of her husband.

Matteo pulled away from her, standing, and she worried she had done something wrong, shaming herself. She reached for the fabric that had covered her, but Matteo moved it out of reach as he untied his own robe in one quick motion and let it slip to the ground.

He was stunning! Silicia took in his broad shoulders and muscular chest, then his rippled abdomen, and standing proudly against that abdomen was a shaft that sent shivers of fear and expectation through her body.

Matteo smiled that wicked grin again. "Do you like what you see, little wife? This is for you, and you alone, my sweet one." He moved beside her again, that stiff rod pressed into her thigh.

He suckled at her other breast while his hand caressed her side, her leg, finally coming to rest on the mound of curls between her legs. She stiffened again. He pulled away from her breast to look into her face. She turned away, feeling shame for her body's behavior.

"Look at me, wife."

She turned and looked into his eyes filled with tenderness and determination.

"Do not look away. It is my greatest happiness that your body responds to my touch. Do not be ashamed. That I can pleasure you is my greatest reward."

He kissed her gently as he pressed his hand into her center, parting her lower lips and stroking softly into her depths.

"You are nearly ready for me, but I want you to feel the pleasures that await you without the fear of pain that women bring to this night. Relax, my little one, and let me introduce you to sensations you have never had before."

With that he began to stroke her womanhood in feather-light brushes, slowly increasing his pressure as her body reacted. Silicia couldn't break her gaze into his eyes, and found her hips had begun to writhe and press into his hand. The feelings he was causing pulled moans from deep in her chest, and her eyes rolled back as her body arched and waves of ecstasy crashed over her again and again. His movements gentled as he purred into her neck, licking and kissing her.

"That is what our joining can feel like, my love. I want that for you," he whispered in her ear.

"I want that, Matteo. Show me," she answered, turning to press her body against his hardness.

With a grin, her husband moved down her body. "Not quite yet, my love."

Suddenly scared again, Silicia pulled her legs together and tried to scoot away.

"Come, Silicia, don't hide from me now. You have nothing to feel shame about. Your body is perfect, your reactions my joy. I want to bring you pleasure as no one else can," Matteo responded, again cupping her mound and exerting gentle pressure. 

Silicia moaned softly as her body thrummed in time with his tender motions.

He licked her nipple, drawing it into his mouth to slip sensually in and out, stretching her nipple out to a hard peak and causing electric charges to run from breast to groin.

He moved to the other nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth and laving it between tongue and palate.

Silicia moaned and pressed her heated groin into his hand, "Matteo! My body screams for you."

With a wicked laugh he responded, "Let's see if your mouth will scream for me as well."

He kissed and licked his way down her abdomen, causing her skin to jump, the muscles beneath twitching with tension. He removed his hand from her mound and positioned himself between her legs.

Silicia looked down at him, his grin sly, and felt suddenly exposed as well as excited. This stranger, her husband, was looking into her most private parts, plotting the most pleasurable torture for her. Her entire body shuddered as he blew across her wet pussy, and goose bumps that had nothing to do with cold erupted all over her body.

Matteo leaned in, kissing her most personal place.

Silicia couldn't tear her eyes from him, watching his tongue flick out to a spot near the apex of her lower lips. Her world shattered as shockwaves coursed from the spot out her limbs. Her head flung back and her hips bucked, and she heard herself moan, "Yes!"

Before she could recover from the first sensation, Matteo was plunging his tongue deep within her, then pulling out and up, just flicking that point of pure pleasure before repeating the movement. 

Silicia found it hard to breathe, her body curling and arching in time to his wicked tongue.

"You taste as good as you look," he murmured, his breath sending shivers across her skin.

Silicia was lost in a world of pure sensation, moaning and gasping, tension coiling deep in her belly as she panted, "Matteo, please!"

"My pleasure," he growled, sucking gently on the nub of nerves that shattered her into a million glowing pieces. He licked her gently back to a single being, growling his pleasure.

When she could once again breathe, she asked shyly, "Could I do that to you?"

He quickly lay on his back beside her, "Please do!"

Though still shy, Silicia now felt secure in the acceptance of her new husband. She tried licking his neck, which he bared for her willingly. He moaned softly as she licked the shell of his ear. Emboldened, she nibbled against his hard chest to his tiny nipple, which she suckled, pulling a groan from deep in his throat. A sudden nip of the tiny bud brought him halfway to sitting, a surprised but not unhappy exclamation issuing forth.

Silicia was suddenly eager to touch and taste the hard shaft pulsing against her belly. She lifted up, looking at Matteo's body, all hard muscle and bronzed skin. Her eyes travelled lower, admiring the fat cock reaching toward his navel . She tentatively ran a finger up its length and it jumped toward her hand. Leaning lower, she flicked her tongue against the pink head. 

Now it was Matteo's turn to say, "Please!"

Moving to between his legs, Silicia licked the length of his erection as she gently traced his balls with her index fingers. His reaction was a deep growling moan and a thrust of his hips.

Taking the head of his cock in her mouth, she sucked gently as she ran a finger nail down its length. Again he thrust toward her, his cock sliding to her throat and back out. She liked his reactions and continued to lick and suck while running her fingers around his balls.

With a sudden groan, Matteo pulled Silicia from between his legs and flipped her onto her back.

His mouth crushed down on hers, his tongue dueling with hers in an erotic dance that caused shivers to run down her spine and collect where his mouth had recently been. His mouth left hers, seeking out her nipple to lick and suck. She bent her head, licking the curve of his ear, dragging a low moan from his chest.

"Yes, my love. Take me as I take you," he murmured.

Pressing her back, his muscular thigh worked gently to spread her knees before climbing on top of her. His mouth continued to lick along her collar bone, her neck, her ear, as his hard shaft pressed into her wet cleft. He rolled his hips, pressing along her slit and sliding the wetness along his shaft. He pressed and released, rubbing sensually and making her hips flex against his erection. In a sudden movement, his length buried itself deep within her, breaking her maidenhead. She let out a sharp cry.

With iron control he held still within her silken folds. "That is the worst of it, my love. It should not hurt much after that."

He began to move, slowly, tentatively. She sucked in her breath, but there was no more pain, just a slight soreness which was quickly overcome by the increasing tingle and small electric pulses his movements were causing. Her body began to answer his movements, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

"There's my girl. Do you like this?"

Still slightly embarrassed by her behavior, Silicia didn't answer, but lifted her head to nip his lower lip. He growled, bringing his lips down on hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with the thrusting of his hips.

His hand massaged her breast, gently pinching her nipple. She groaned and arched against him, bringing another growl from his throat as the speed and depth of his thrusts increased. Silicia met his movements, feeling the tightening in her abdomen as the sensation escalated, knowing that incredible release was imminent.

Matteo thrust into her deeply, caressing her depths and massaging her delightfully with his pelvis. Silicia's breath caught in her throat as he let out a deep moan and pure bliss washed over her in waves. Matteo sounded as if her were choking, and Silicia wondered if she had killed him somehow. His whole body was tense, only relaxing by degrees.

"My god, wife, you are incredible! I am truly blessed!"

Matteo caressed her neck, down her chest to her breast. He planted light kisses on her nipple as he slipped from her body. Silicia let out a tiny gasp, arching toward him, still wanting the contact.




The Innocent Bride



Matteo wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her to his chest, nestling her closely. He sighed deeply, gently rubbing her back. "Are you happy, Silicia?"

"Yes, Matteo," she answered softly, "You are everything I didn't know to want." 



The Innocent Conversation



She was standing all alone and seemed to be looking for someone, so I walked over to her with my drink in my hand.

"Hi," I greeted her. "I'm Chuck" and I held out my right hand.

"Hi. I'm Diane," she said while grasping my hand in hers. I squeezed it with a firm handshake.

"Really? Diane? I had a girlfriend named Diane."

"Uh... Is that so surprising? It's not that uncommon a name."

"Well, no. But she was an uncommon girl."

"Oh, yeah? How so?" she asked innocently.

"Well, I don't know many girls like her."

"So, what made her so different?"

"She liked to fuck all the time," I explained.

"Excuse me? What did you say?"

"I said she wanted to do it all the time."

"No, I mean before that."

"You mean 'fucking'? She liked to fuck all the time."

"Ah, I don't think I want to hear -"

"She was insatiable. She couldn't get enough," I interrupted.

"And she was good at it, too," I continued. "She would come hard and really easy and, man, was she noisy! Sometimes she was so noisy I had to put a pillow over her face so the neighbors wouldn't hear us. And the nearest neighbor was two doors away!"

Diane was holding her drink level with her mouth, but hadn't taken a drink, just holding it there with her mouth open and a stunned look on her face. A face that was perfectly proportioned with well-defined features; long eyelashes; blue, blue eyes; and full, luscious lips painted with bright red lipstick. Her blond hair was shoulder length with a front flip and clips on each side holding it behind her ears. Her earrings looked like diamond studs.

She was wearing a sleeveless, printed silk, front-buttoned blouse and her chest seemed unencumbered by a bra, prominently displaying her tits and protruding nipples. Her slim waist embraced a short, burgundy skirt that ended a good six inches above her knees and had a slit up one side another four inches. No panty line, of course, and she wore light brown, silk stockings on legs that ended in dark blue, high heeled shoes. This Diane was a knockout.

"I hope talking about my old girlfriend, Diane, doesn't make you uncomfortable. I mean, we're adults here and I'm sure we've both done our share of 'fucking', haven't we?" I persisted.

She started to day something, but I cut her off. "Why don't we get some fresh drinks and go sit somewhere and talk?"

"Uh... Sure, I guess," she managed to say.

I quickly and gently took her arm and guided her to the bar. We both ordered new drinks and I made small talk about the liquor selection displayed at the bar. I put both drinks on my tab and directed us to an empty table away from the bar and the lights. She seemed more at ease as we put our drinks down and slid into the circular booth so we were both facing out toward the dance floor. I scooted close, making sure our hips touched. She didn't slide away.

I raised my glass for a toast and said "Diane, here's to conversation." We clicked our glasses together and each took a sip.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked, starting the conversation. I had to raise my voice to get above the music and the noise.

"I've been out of town for a while, traveling around," she said, intentionally ignoring my question.

"Did you enjoy your travels?" I asked, putting my hand lightly on her leg just below her skirt. The silk stockings felt, oh, so smooth and sexy.

"Uh... Yeah..." she replied, seemingly surprised at my hand gently touching her leg.

I kept the conversation going as I turned slightly toward her and ran my hand up the outside of her skirt, up her front to just under her breasts. She squirmed a little as I did this.

"Did you meet some nice people?"

"Uh... Yeah, I guess so." She seemed distracted as I caressed her just under her breasts.

"You want to tell me about your girlfriend?" she asked and shifted slightly toward me, parting her legs as she did so.

"Huh?" Her question and her movement had caught me off guard.

"Your old girlfriend. You seemed to have liked her. You want to talk about her?"

"Uh... Well, O.K. If you want to hear about her." I moved my hand back down to her legs. Her skirt had ridden open to the top of the slit and I lightly stroked the silk stockings on the inside of her leg.

"Sure. Go ahead," she encouraged.

"First of all, she was very beautiful. Almost as pretty as you, if I say so."

Diane touched my leg. I continued.

"When we first met there was this kind of attraction that I didn't identify at first."

"You mean sex?" She began rubbing my leg.

"I guess it was, but I was kind of slow to catch on."

"How did she feel about that?" She turned in the booth to face me with one leg on the seat and bent at the knee. She put one hand on my shoulder and kept rubbing my leg with the other hand.

She moved closer so her tits were brushing my chest. My cock started to respond.

"Diane...?" I questioned her boldness.

"Go ahead. If she was coming on to you and you didn't know it, what happened then?"

"Well, it all happened so fast. On our first date we went to a club. She flaunted her body as she danced and rubbed against me whenever she could. The signs were all there, but it was our first time together and all. She wouldn't sit down, but wanted to stand at the end of the bar with her back against the bar. She put me next to her facing the bar with her hand around the front of my waist. Because of the noise level, she had to lean into me to say something and she would press her chest hard against my upper arm. Before long, unobserved by everyone, she was stroking me through the front of my pants."

I moved my hand farther up her legs.

"You mean your cock? She was playing with your cock?" She moved her hand up my leg and grasped my hardening cock.

"Yeah, that's what I mean," I replied as I tried to act casually to her grabbing. "We danced some more and all the while she had her chest thrust out on display. She had an impressive chest and she knew how to move it and her hips so that there was no question about what she was suggesting. In between dances we would take our positions at the bar and she would rub her chest against me and play with my cock."

I brushed the inside of her thighs with the back of my hand.

"That sounds pretty sexy."

"You're telling me! She started kissing me. Well, I might have been slow, but I wasn't dead. Pretty soon I said we should leave and she said 'Good.' She was hanging on me as we walked to the car. And as soon as we were in the car, she took her panties off and threw them down on the floor of the car. Then she was all over me. Her shirt was off, her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and she grabbed my hands and put them on her tits. She told me to squeeze them harder as she was opening my pants to grab my cock. She straddled me right there in the car and sat down on my cock with her tits in my face."

I moved my hand farther up and found out why there was no panty line. I moved my fingers over her hot, wet sex.

"Is it hot in here? It seems like it's hot in here. I'm getting really hot," she said.

I think she was ready, but I pushed it along.

"Yeah, it's a little warm. We were in the car and she was bouncing up and down and her tits were slapping my face. I reached up, grabbed her tits, and pinched her nipples hard. She got really loud, saying how much she loved to fuck me and how big my cock was and how she wanted me to squeeze her tits harder. So I did. Pretty soon she reached down and rubbed her clit. She came hard, talking nasty, and pulling my face into her tits."

"Fuck," Diane said as she gripped my cock harder. I responded by rubbing her cunt.

"After a bit, she slid off onto the passenger seat. She looked over at my cock, straight and hard and glistening with her cunt juice. All she said was 'Hurry, I need to fuck some more.'

She put her shirt on and I drove to my place. She tore her clothes off as soon as she got through the door. We fucked on the living room floor."

"Chuck..." Her voice seemed a little desperate. I pushed two fingers into her.

"That's how it all started. From then on, until we broke up, she wanted to fuck every chance we got. We fucked all over my apartment, in her apartment, in the elevator, on the stairs, in the laundry room downstairs, at the front door before I could unlock it, in the grocery store behind the vegetables, at her work in the storage room, in the bathroom at Starbucks, at the museum near the aviary display, before breakfast, after breakfast, during lunch, in the parking lot up against the side of my car, and many times in the park across the street."

"Chuck..." she pleaded again.

"I think we should go now," I said as I slipped my fingers out of her cunt and pulled my hand from between her legs. She let go of my cock and we slid out of the booth and left the club. When we got to my car at the parking lot, I reached into my pocket for my keys.

"No, I can't wait," she demanded. She pulled her skirt up around her waist, reached down, unzipped my pants, and pulled my cock out. She was whimpering as I pushed her up against the side of my car and slid my cock into her cunt. As I fucked her there in the parking lot, she told me how much she loved to fuck me, how big my cock was, and how she wanted me to abuse her tits. It was just like old times.

"Diane," I said. "You should never have left."

"I know," she replied. "Fuck me harder."



The Innocent Slut: At the Bus Stop



Linda waved goodbye to Mr. Lee her neighbour and walked off to the bus stop, the mild breeze causing her skirt to dance about at the very top of her thighs.

Linda thought back to the day she told her daddy what Mr. Lee did to her everytime they were in the lift together alone.

"Darling," her daddy had replied, "you have beautiful breasts that you shouldn't be ashamed of."

"It's only natural for people to want to look at them or touch them. After all, that's why we spend quality time massaging them every day don't we? So that they will never sag and will always remain perky and you won't ever have to wear those ugly bras."

Linda had nodded at her father's wisdom, happy that he did not have a problem with Mr. Lee touching her tits, after all, it did feel pretty good.

"But Daddy," Linda asked, "what if he wanted to touch me in other places too?"

"Sweetie, every part of your body is as beautiful as your breasts. Inevitably, men and women alike will want to touch you. Just remember the two golden rules; they musn't look up your skirt and they will have to have your permission before touching your pussy or asshole."

"So Daddy, I just push them away and tell them off if they tried?"

" That's right Darling." Linda's father had confirmed.

Linda was so caught up in her recollections that she did not notice that her skirt was flying up as she walked along to the bus stop. Drivers speeding past, turned to stare at the luscious girl, wondering if that was a bare pussy they saw or just some skin coloured panties.

Linda reached the bus stop before she finally realised what the wind was doing to her outfit. She blushed slightly and held her super short skirt down demurely. She cast her eyes about to see if anyone had noticed and she saw a young man in office wear staring at her legs and skirt, as if willing it to fly up again.

"Oops, I guess he did look up my skirt!" Linda thought to herself, mentally counting off "1".

Linda's mind went back to the past again as she remembered her daddy's first golden rule.

"Darling," he had said, "You must always do your best not to let any man or boy look up your skirt, it's terribly rude. If they look up your skirt, they will know that you aren't wearing any panties. However, there is a proviso to that rule; your knees must never touch, whether you are standing, sitting or lying down."

"But Daddy," LindaMichelle had replied, "my skirts are so short! It'll be so difficult to prevent myself from being exposed!"

"Sweetie, that's the challenge. It's not the results that matter, it's the trying. You just do your best and don't make it too easy for them."

Linda smiled at the memory and continued to hold down her 10 inch long skirt against the playful breezes that morning.

The office worker looked at the incredibly sexy body in front of him and thought;

"Fucking tease! You want to dress like a slut and still want to hold down your skirt like a virgin? I'll fuck you one day! I'll tear that fucking short skirt off and fuck that hot pussy of yours!"

The man looked up from the skirt and at LindaMichelle's thin white blouse.

"Fuck man, she's not wearing a bra either! What a fucking slut! Check out those nipples man!"

His eyes rose further up to contemplate her face.

"Wah laaan... fucking chio lahhh." (My dick! She's damned pretty) "Fucking hot man! Perfect body, perfect legs, perfect cunt, perfect tits AND a perfect face!" "Why the hell can't I get a girl like that?"

As the feeder bus approached, Linda took her hands off her skirt to take out her EZ-link card and the lightweight material of her skirt flipped up again. She quickly held it down with one hand.

The office man's eyes narrowed; "A real fucking tease, want to hold down then dun wear so short lah!" he thought to himself.

Suddenly an idea formed in his head and he quickly took out his mobile phone and switched it to video mode.

The feeder bus came whooshing to a stop, causing Linda's hot pink skirt to expose her firm bottom, although she gamely held down the front.

The office guy quickly took up position behind her as the bus door opened and he placed his mobile phone at the best angle to film up her tiny skirt.

Totally innocent and unaware that guys were capable of such antics, Linda took a big step up to the bus, her pussy lips parting as she did so.

Later, the office guy would review his video and masturbate to the wonderfully hot image of her shaved slit.

The bus door closed and the bus moved off to the regional interchange where Linda would catch an MRT train to her university.



The Innocent Slut: In the Morning



The alarm rang at 7am and Linda sleepily hit the snooze button. When the alarm sounded again, she hit the "off" button and lazed for a few minutes in her soft cotton sheets.

As she lay there, she absently toyed with her sensitive nipples, bringing them erect to their full length. Her pussy spasmed at the gentle tugs and tweeks on her nipples and her legs spread naturally apart...

Linda allowed her left hand to drift down between her legs to rub her hard little clit while she continued to pinch and twist her nipples with her right. Her slutty body immediately responded to the erotically lewd touches and her lithe tight teenage body was soon on the edge of an orgasm...

As she felt herself approaching the edge, Linda gave her nipples a good hard pinch and twist and her legs spread apart as far as they could go and she allowed herself to climax. She bit her lower lip to stifle her moans as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her and washed away the last vestiges of sleep...

Feeling fully awake, she hopped out of bed and sashayed to the shower, her firm B cup tits bouncing softly.

After her shower, she put on a pair of pink 3inch heels and walked naked out into the dining room where her father was having breakfast.

"Good morning Daddy!" Linda sang in her musical voice.

Linda's father, Tom looked up from his newspapers at his precious daughter and his face lit up in a smile as his eyes took in her unblemished naked beauty and physical perfection.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart!" he replied. "Some cereal?"

"No thanks Daddy, I'll grab a bite later in school."

Linda hopped into her daddy's lap to give him an open mouthed kiss as he fondled her firm teenage boobs.

Linda sat with her back against her daddy's chest as he expertly massaged her breasts, he toyed with her nipples, rolling them about between his fingertips, causing her to arch her back and thrust out her boobs.

LindaMichelle closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of those large, rough and strong hands on her sensitive breasts. As if they were somehow connected, each pull, pinch, or twist of her nipples caused her long slim legs to spread further and further apart.

Tom looked down over his daughter's shoulder and heaving bosom at her perfectly smooth cunt and wondered who would be lucky enough to have a glimpse of it today. As if suddenly remembering something, he gave her nipples one last hard twist that caused her to stifle a yelp and said,

"Ok sweetheart, that's enough for today!"

Linda gave her daddy another open mouthed kiss and with a smile they said in unison, "A fondle a day keeps the bra away!,

LindaMichelle giggled and her father patted her pert bottom saying, "Now why don't you change and show daddy what you'll be wearing to school today?"

Linda happily agreed and with her heels clicking on the parquet floor, she skipped off to her room where she had laid out her sexy outfit for the day.

Linda put on some light makeup onto her breath-takingly beautiful face then walked to her bed.

"I'm sure daddy would love this skirt," she thought to herself as she picked the tiny piece of pink fabric up from the bed. "He always loves the way my legs look in such skirts!"

Linda carefully stepped into the skirt and pulled it up her long slim legs and zipped it up around her tiny waist. The light-weight flared skirt was a soft pink that was slightly translucent in the right light and was no more than 10inches long. From below that insanely short skirt, her perfectly tanned and slim legs glowed with satin smoothness.

Linda did a twirl in front of her full length mirror and noted how the skirt would fly up to expose her perfectly waxed pussy,

"Oops! I better be careful today with this skirt!"

She then slipped on a sleeveless blouse made of thin white cotton that clearly showed her hard brown nipples beneath. The blouse's style was short and ended just below Linda's rib cage to show off her firm stomach and tiny waist. Linda then buttoned 2 out of 4 buttons (her daddy said she could do a maximum of two buttons on any article of clothing), exposing a generous amount of her beautiful cleavage.

Linda looked at herself critically in the mirror and shook her shoulders slightly to see if her tits would pop out of her top. No, it wouldn't be too easy to expose herself in this top.

"Unlike some others!" she thought to herself, smiling.

Linda dressed in her thin white top, super short flared pink skirt and pink 3 inch heels and nothing else, sasahyed out to the dining room to show her father her outfit for the day.

Tom looked up again at his daughter as he heard the clicking heels announce her approach.

He smiled as he noted how the skirt flipped up to afford occasional glimpses of her bare pussy and how her firm braless breasts jiggled ever so slightly in her sleeveless top. Tom nodded approvingly at how his daugther never failed to stick to his "Only 2 articles of clothing" rule, ever since she entered university.

"Well daddy? How do I look? You like my outfit?" Linda spun around for her father's judgement.

Tom's eyes opened slightly wide as he saw how easily that skirt could flare in the lightest breeze and how easily his daughter could expose herself today.

"Turn around and bend over." Linda's daddy instructed.

LindaMichelle obediently bent at the waist and grabbed her ankles.

Her daddy noted how her ass and pussy were totally on display in that position and smiled. He walked around to the front and looked at her firm breasts which had spilt out of her blouse. He gave her exposed nipples a quick tweak and said,

"Ok darling, very very nice outfit. Perfect. The skirt flares quite easily so remember to be careful not to let anyone look up your skirt."

"Ok daddy!" Linda replied, happy that her father approved of her dressing choice. "I'm off to school then!"

"Have a good day Sweetie!" her daddy said smiling fondly.

Linda grabbed her purse and happily left the house, not before flashing her father again as she closed the front door.



The Innocent Slut: The Neighbour



As Linda left her house, her neighbour Mr. Teo quickly looked up from his morning newspapers. Every morning, he'd position himself on his sofa with the front door wide open, presumably to let in the morning breeze.

Mr. Teo was not disappointed this morning as he caught an eyeful of bare delectable ass as LindaMichelle spun on her heels after locking her door of her 5 room flat in Woodlands. He craned his neck to watch her incredibly sexy legs and swaying bottom as she strutted down the common corridor to the lift. Mr. Teo sighed and rearranged his stiff cock, returning to his papers but imagining himself fucking that delicious piece of ass.

Another neighbour eagerly anticipating Linda's daily flesh parade was Mr. Lee, a 55 year old taxi driver. Mr Lee had known Linda since she moved into the block of flat when she was 18, then already incredibly sexy and full of promise.

As it happened back in 2005, Mr Lee and Linda shared the same lift many times as they set off for work and school respectively as similar times. Mr. Lee would surreptitiously glance at her stiff nipples poking out of her school uniform and would wonder how her father could allow her out of the house like that. He also wondered how she got away with so blatantly showing off her then already defined buxom (in that thin white school blouse) at her secondary school.

Mr. Lee would chat with LindaMichelle as they descended in the lift and he would offer to send her to school in his taxi. Linda would always give him the sweetest smile and politely decline saying that her school was only a few bus stops away. Mr. Lee would wave goodbye to her and watch her walk gracefully away in her modified school skirt (which was way shorter than school guidelines permitted) and shake his head in wonder...

Then in 2006, Mr. Lee was driving along River Valley Road one night when he slowed down to stare at a hot young lady in a light yellow blouse and super short flared canary yellow skirt. As he got closer, he admired the long slim perfectly tanned legs in the mini skirt and high heels. To his pleasure, the girl turned at the sound of his taxi and flagged it down.

Mr. Lee cheered in the silence of his mind, eagerly anticipating the girl to give him a good zaogeng view up her skirt as she entered his cab.

The girl opened the door and clambered into the taxi, exposing her perfectly shaved pussy as she did so, too drunk to even notice that the perverted taxi driver was staring right into her crotch.

The girl slammed the door, extinguishing the cabin lights, Mr Lee sighed and fixed the image of those legs and cunt in his mind, hardly able to wait till she reached her destination and the lights could come on so that he could have another glimpse to masturbate by later that night.

"Uncle, Woodlands Ave 1 please" came a familiar voice.

Mr. Lee sat stunned for a few moments, not believing his ears.

"Uncle, Woodlands Avenue 1 please, you know how to go or not?" the familiar voice slurred slightly.

Mr. Lee turned about to peer at the hot babe seated in the dimness of the rear cabin.

"Linda? Is that you?" he asked, his eyes taking in whatever details he could in the low light.

"Mr. Lee? Haha! What a surprise! " Linda giggled. "Take me home Mr. Lee, you know where!"

Mr. Lee nodded and started the taxi on its way, adjusting the rear view mirror to see if Linda was ok.

"Aren't you a little too young to drink Linda?" Mr. Lee asked.

"Oh Mr. Lee, I just turned 18 today, my friends brought me to Mohd. Sultan to celebrate! The bouncers didn't even ask for my ID."

(Author's note: 18 is the age of sexual consent in Singapore and Mohammed Sultan Road is a strip of popular discos and pubs in the island city)

"Not surprising considering how sluttily you are dressed, the bouncers would have been falling over themselves to let you in!" Mr. Lee thought to himself.

"Why didn't your friends send you home?" Mr. Lee asked aloud.

But there was no response as LindaMichelle had fallen asleep, overcome by the alcohol. Mr. Lee adjusted his rear view mirror again, glancing at her stiff nipples and slightly parted legs everytime a street light illuminated her body.

When the taxi reached Linda's apartment block in Woodlands, Mr. Lee parked the cab and opened the rear door to wake up the sleeping beauty. He shook her gently, calling her name, but she was knocked out cold.

As he shook her arm harder, her blouse which had been gaping open fell away to reveal her braless tits and long stiff nipples. Mr. Lee paused for awhile, gazing at the incredibly sexy sight in front of him.

"My goodness! No bra and no panties! In such revealing attire! She's fortunate she flagged me down before she got raped!" Mr. Lee thought to himself.

"Linda, wake up!" Mr. Lee tried again, shaking the sexy young thing again, causing her firm teenage tits to move invitingly. Still no response.

Mr. Lee looked at the babe again, unable to believe that all his taxi driver fantasies could come true that very night. He stopped himself, reminding himself that she was underage.

"Wait a minute, what was that she said just now? Oh! She's already 18!" Mr. Lee recalled.

Just then Linda sighed slightly in her stupor and shifted her position, causing both her boobs to become visible, both her pretty light brown nipples seeming to beg for attention.

Mr. Lee lost his self control at that point at started to fondle the breasts of the 18 year old darling in the back of his taxi cab. He massaged her tits, unable to believe his luck. He grabbed the deliciously tanned flesh and moulded it with his calloused hands. When he lightly grabbed her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, Linda sighed and opened her pretty pink lips.

"Damn! I'd like to fuck that mouth!" Mr. Lee said to himself, his cock rock hard.

He continued fondling her tits and twisting her nipples, observing how her legs would spread further and further apart, everytime he played with her nipples. Her skirt by then was almost up to her waist, her pussy was glistening wet and her legs were splayed out wide.

Mr. Lee jumped slightly in shock when suddenly Linda's sleepy voice sounded. "Mmmm.. that feels good Mr. Lee..."

Mr. Lee quickly pulled his hands away and said; "Oh you are awake, come let's get you home."

LindaMichelle nodded sleepily and allowed her neighbour to help her out of the cab, not noticing that his eyes were staring at various exposed parts of her lithe teenage body.

In the lift, Linda staggered and collapsed against Mr. Lee and he quickly carried her in both arms, one hand around her torso and on her right boob and the other supporting her firm naked bottom.

Mr. Lee could not resist feeling her up as he carried the slim girl back to her flat, where he set her down and rang the doorbell.

Linda's father Tom, opened the door and raised an eyebrow at the sight of his neighbour and his dishevelled daughter. "Thanks for bringing her home, Lee."

Mr. Lee nodded, wondering if Tom knew what he had seen that night. "Probably..." he thought.

The next morning, Mr. Lee and Linda shared the same lift again, travelling down from their homes on the 12th storey.

"Daddy told me that you brought me home last night Mr. Lee..." Linda ventured. "But I don't remember anything..."

Mr. Lee could never understand why he did what he did that day, but he reached out his hands and started to fondle LindaMichelle's braless tits through her thin school uniform and asked; "Do you remember this?"

Linda's eyes went wide, looking adorably vulnerable as he continued to fondle her firm breasts. She swallowed hard but did not resist him as he roughly pawed at her buxom till the lift reached the first floor. Mr. Lee turned and walked out of the lift as the door opened, leaving Linda with her pretty mouth and eyes opened wide and her chest heaving.

Back to the present.

As Linda waited for the lift to ascend to the 12th floor, she felt Mr Lee's rough hands grab her breasts from behind.

"Good Morning Linda."

"Good Morning Mr. Lee." Linda replied.

Mr. Lee continued to feel her tits and as the lift reached their level, even yanked open the blouse to pinch her braless nipples.

Linda gasped in pain and pleasure and her pretty pink lips parted sexily.

Mr. Lee shoved her into the lift and continued to squeeze her boobs and tug on her nipples, her blouse opened wide. Despite his fetish with her breasts, Mr. Lee never once touched her anywhere else although she had her legs parted invitingly wide. It seemed to be some line he was unwilling to cross, despite a year of almost daily fondling in the lift.

As the lift's chime announced the first floor, Mr Lee smiled as Linda rearranged her blouse to hide her painfully erect nipples and rearranged her skirt. He bade her a good day and she sashayed her way out of the lift, unconsciously waggling her ass as she walked.

"Fuck that skirt is short!" Mr. Lee thought as he watched her walk gracefully to the bus stop, marvelling at how she could be so unaware of her incredible sexuality...



The Innocent Whore



The audience went absolutely wild. They jumped off their seats, some even stood on them, clapping their hands and stomping their feet, shouting, whistling and cheering. Top hats and bonnets were flying through the air and many a time I wondered if it was always the rightful owner who caught his or her possession after having thrown it away so foolishly. The sound was deafening and I have to say that the frenzied screaming of the few had soon touched all present and every last man and woman in the auditorium was up and shrieking. Mass hysteria, I believe would be the expression for it. In different circumstances it would have been quite frightening. 

Bouquets and individual flowers, mostly red roses were showered onto the stage, landing around the small woman who was the centre of attention, her colleagues carefully stepping away and allowing her the moment of triumph all to herself. 

"Bravo!", "Superb!", "Repete! Repete!" screamed the audience. "Biss! Biss!" screeched the man in the private balcony suite next to mine and I was surprised to realize that he was sobbing, his face wet with tears. 

I turned to my wife and found her standing quietly, visibly shaken. She too, had fallen under the spell of the people, in astonishment and disbelief admiring the powerful voice of Georgina Sjorensen, the Canary from Sweden, as she had been known. The name was slightly misleading, I dare say. Her father was a Swedish immigrant that much was true. Her mother, however, was a resident of London's East End and I doubted Georgina spoke even a word of Swedish let alone seen her fatherland. The woman was small, from a distance one might have mistaken her for a child, but her voice was powerful enough to shatter glass, or so I believed. 

Even from afar she appeared delicate and fragile; blond hair cupped on top of her head, most of it covered by the wide brimmed hat, her victorious face red with excitement and perhaps even embarrassment. Each time she bowed, she would place her small, gloved hand onto her stomach as if that was the point where her body would fold. She did not curtsy as other women did, rather she thanked the audience like a man, bowing slightly, tilting her head up and stealing a glance at the people who at that time loved her more than any other performer in the whole of London. 

After a few bows, she straightened and blew kisses at the audience. The tip of the umbrella in one of her hands was firmly pressed against the stage floor and she had used it to keep her balance as she carefully squatted to pick up a few stems of the beautiful flowers, throwing them back into the crowd, which only caused the collective scream to become even louder, if that was at all possible. 

After a few long minutes, the rest of the cast joined her, standing in a chorus line next to her, holding each other's hands and bowing in unison. 

"Georgina! Georgina!" the crowd didn't seem to notice anyone but the small woman in the middle. For a moment I wondered how the others felt about this public show of affection. They were all good performers, the best London had to offer in fact and here they were, treated as mere sidekicks to the woman who had swept the city like a hurricane and in a span of a short year rose from the slums of East End and ending up as the brightest star of British opera. 

"Time to go, my dear." I whispered to my wife while clapping enthusiastically. "Come on, we should leave before the crowd lets out. It will be a stampede, I should imagine." I said, noticing that Aurelia, my wife was very reluctant to leave. She wanted to stay and enjoy the happiness and exhilaration of the audience as long as she could. I had to admit that the atmosphere was very catchy and intoxicating. 

"Come, now." I said gently and firmly grabbed my wife's elbow, half dragging her behind me, out of the private balcony box, down the stairs and towards the exit. All the while, she kept glancing back, obviously disappointed over my actions of preventing her to enjoy the hysteria shared by others. 

Too eager to wait for the coachman to spot us, and still dragging my wife behind me, I found our calash and pushed Aurelia inside it. "I have a meeting to attend to, my dear." I said and noticed panic striking her face. "Now?" she asked, holding onto my hands as if for dear life. 

"I shan't be long, I promise." I said and before she could utter another word of protest, I closed the door and waved to the coachman to leave. "Straight home!" I said sternly, which in itself was an absurd command. Where on Earth could my wife go in the middle of the night but home? 

I watched the calash turn the corner and just before it disappeared, I saw my wife's sad face in the window, the palms of her hands firmly pressed against the glass. She was no fool, Aurelia. I was a good husband to her, I think. However, she did suspect me of many indiscretions that I had had and even if I were dying in a hospital, she'd still think I had some alternative motive to stay away from her. I couldn't blame her. She took it all with dignity, crying in private, away from anyone's view, too afraid to confront me, incapable to do anything about it. 

Like I said, I was a good husband to her, providing for her comfort and our children's. She was a good wife to me, too. She kept an immaculate household, our children were healthy and happy, and we were well liked by our friends and neighbours. One thing that was missing in our marriage, however, was true passion. I had married Aurelia because it was time for me to marry and sire offspring, my heirs. She married me because she loved me, I believe. I cannot go as far as to say that I didn't feel anything for her. That would have been completely untrue. However, there was never any passion that I felt for her. I would make love to her gently and carefully while she laid still, her eyes closed, little moans escaping her mouth and absolutely not moving. I always felt like she was simply taking all that I was dishing out, without even the slightest effort of her own. 

I wanted more than that. So much more. I yearned for a hot-blooded, passionate woman who would return my affections in more than just your mandatory signs of enjoyment. I wanted someone who would take charge sometimes. A woman who would not be ashamed to strip down to her skin in one swift move and parade around the room naked, teasing me, unafraid and unembarrassed. I wanted a woman who would open her eyes during lovemaking, look at me and ask me for more. Someone who would arch her back and meet my thrusts, someone who is willing to kneel on all fours and allow me to come at her from behind, her face an ugly mask of enjoyment while we're observing ourselves in the mirror. None of that, of course, would have been possible with my wife even in my wildest dreams. 

I did not despair, however. I did my duty in bed with Aurelia, once a week like clockwork, and we have four children to prove it. For true pleasure, I kept mistresses on the side and sometimes I even wandered to the East End of London for some perverse pleasure with the prostitutes. I cared not. Aurelia knew nothing for certain, her imagination was running wild, but she never confronted me with it and so I didn't worry myself much. 

As the calash carrying my wife finally turned the corner, I felt a tap on my shoulder and as I turned around, I found my faithful servant Norbert standing next to me, a huge bouquet of red and white roses in his arms. "Sir." He bowed his head slightly and offered me the flowers. 

"Thank you, Norbert." I accepted the given and ran the hand through my hair. I wanted to look nothing but the best. "I shan't be long." I repeated the same promise that I had given my wife moments earlier, almost running back to the theatre, I found my way backstage. 

While in the street, one could still hear the roar of the crowd. Inside, it was just as deafening as it had been when I led my wife out. A mass of people was pouring down the main staircase and out the exit doors on the sides, a clear signs that the bowing of the cast had been over and Georgina was probably back in her dressing room. I pushed my way through the crowd, finding it hard to plough through the avalanche of sweaty bodies all going in the opposite direction. As I had expected, quite a few gentlemen tried to force their way backstage, but upon specific orders of the theatre director, no one was allowed access but a chosen few, one of which was I.

"Sir," I was greeted by the dressing room chambermaid, careful not to reveal my name or title to an accidental bystander. "She is resting." Added the older woman, referring to Georgina, whom my entire body was aching for. 

"Thank you," I pressed a shilling in her hand, grateful for her loyalty and discretion. She knocked on the door delicately and then opened it, allowing me an entrance into a small room. Even though it was considered quite large by the theatre standards, Georgina's dressing room was still a very tiny place. It was made to look even smaller by the heaps of dresses, carefully dressing the mannequins. Shoes were toeing an invisible line all around the wall, like small soldiers guarding their mistress. Every available inch of the tables, chairs and the dressing cabinet were bursting with flowers, the air in the room a wild mixture of lavender, roses, orchids and plain field flowers. On the walls, which were barely visible behind the dresses and flora were posters, covering the drab yellow paint like wallpaper, Georgina's silhouette, face or at least the name prominent on all. 

in the middle of this motley display sat a woman, her narrow shoulders and small back revealing her delicateness to the point where one might think she'd break if one was to hug and squeeze her too hard. Her small hands with carefully painted fingernails were running through her hair, pausing at the temples and rubbing quickly, only to hurry along and continue with an unusual finger-combing of the wheat coloured mane. 

"Darling!" she exclaimed and looked at me through the mirror. I met her gaze and despite the fact that I had seen her nearly every night after the performance for the past two months, the beauty of her face still took my breath away. Like the rest of her body, her face was small, oval, with skin so white it was almost transparent. Big, grey eyes were half covered by the droopy lids, giving her an appearance of intoxication. The cheers of the crowd were very inebriating, I learned that. I had also learned that the effect of the happiness, love and loudness of the crowd was taking a toll on this beautiful woman, whom I regarded to be my mistress, even though I had never as much as laid my finger on her. She allowed me to kiss her hand in a gentlemanly way, but that was it. Whenever the passion would sweep through me and I tried to take her in my arms to press her tiny body against mine, she'd push me away, blush and shake her head in alarm. 

"Really, William!" she'd say, her voice anxious. "Do not forget yourself like that!"

I had also learned that she was a wonderful actress. I had actually believed in her bashfulness for a few weeks. That is, until I visited her house one day and realized that despite her fame, her fortune could not have been large enough to afford the magnificent Tudor style mansion, filled to the brim with art and heavy furniture, exotic birds and purebred dogs roaming the rooms freely. Butlers, servants, chambermaids and cooks at her back and call at any given moment of the day. 

She had a patron, very likely more than one. I suspected that like me they were married men, wealthy and highly respected, unwilling to give up what they had at home, still willing to pay a high price for Georgina's company every once in a while. She was nothing more but a highly paid courtesan, who was lucky enough to be blessed with a voice of an angel, which had given her a respectful position in the haughty society of London. I had never laid my eyes on any of her benefactors, just like they never met me, Georgina made sure to keep us all apart. There were men who boasted of their conquests of her, but I was never certain whether they were truthful or simply wishful thinking fools.

Finally, she turned away from the mirror and faced me. Her full lips were pouted as if awaiting a kiss, but I knew better than that. Expecting a complaint of a headache, which she presented me with nearly every evening, I shook my head in disappointment and offered the flowers, which as beautiful as they were, could never measure up to her. 

"Oh, darling!" her voice rang in excitement. "How lovely!" As she reached for the bouquet, I knelt next to her on the floor, gently grabbing onto one of her small hands. "Georgina!" I gasped and pressed a passionate kiss on the delicate skin. "Georgina!" I said again and felt like a fool, nevertheless a happy fool. At nearly fifty, I was more than twice Georgina's age and one would have thought me her father had they managed to steal a glance inside the dressing room. 

I felt my entire being aching for her, I wanted to take her in my arms, cover her face with kisses, breathe in the flowery smell of her hair and skin, run my hands all over her body. I wanted to feel her like a woman and offer her everything a man had to offer. I was madly in love and she knew it, despite my futile attempts to appear indifferent to her. Whenever I found myself in Georgina's company, my hands would shake and I found it hard to breathe. I cursed myself for being so weak and foolish afterwards but during the moments of intoxication, I couldn't help but show her how much she had affected me. 

Very predictably, Georgina pulled her hand away, pressed the flowers to her body and shook her head. "Now, now..." she said and gave me an annoyed look, much like you would reprimand a child with. "Let us not start this again, William." She whispered and dramatically rubbed her temple. 

"Indeed, Georgina." I sighed and stood up. "Let us not." Astonishment replaced the look of torture on Georgina's face. I had never given up this easily. Despite my age, stiff muscles and cracking bones, I'd kneel next to her sometimes for half an hour, kissing her hands and I have to admit with utmost shame, I have even found myself kissing her boots. I wanted her so very much that I would have done just about anything at the moment of exhilaration. 

"I came here tonight to bid you farewell, my dear." I said, having decided that like Georgina, I could put on a bit of a show, as well. "I don't think I can see you any longer, you see." I said and slowly stood up, my knees popping loudly. 

"Why ever not?" Alarm in her voice was evident and oh, so soothing. 

My mind raced through different scenarios, which had been playing in my mind for days. Should I pretend to be indifferent and bored with the woman? Would begging and pleading work its charm on her? Might some trivial excuse, nothing to do with her, but ever so important to me, be effective? 

Despite my deep love for her, I had to admit to myself that I was becoming fed up with her little games. She had no shame in accepting my gifts, which as the time went by were becoming more big-hearted and lavish. It had struck me just days before how truly foolish I was in my generosity. Upon presenting her with a pair of gold and emerald earrings, a matching necklace and bracelet, which cost a substantial fortune, her response was nothing more than: "Oh, how very pretty!" No display of affection, not even a kiss, a simple phrase that had me so cross, I could have struck the woman unconscious right there and then. I returned home afterwards and promised myself I would never be that foolish again. If anybody deserved such generosity it would have been my wife, but I never bothered to indulge her in such a way. Not that she didn't deserve it, you understand. She was simply my wife, sharing my wealth and good fortune and I found it unnecessary to present her with any more than an occasional obligatory piece of jewellery, which was rather expensive, but not overly so. Mistresses are the ones a man shows his true generosity towards. Mistresses, indeed. However, Georgina was not that and she showed no inclination of wanting to become one to me. 

"Why, William?" she asked again, panic slowly rising. I had been more than good to her and she knew it. She delicately walked the fine line between wealth and poverty, prominence and oblivion. She had played her game expertly, but one false move could have destroyed it all and she was well aware of it. 

"I come here every night, Georgina." I began, pacing the small room with a firm gait, talking to her as I would have to someone who had done me wrong and I was offering them one more chance before abandonment. "Every night." I stabbed the air with my finger, feeling my heart racing madly. 

"You play with me." I raised my hand to stop her from protesting. "I am not a child, not a young man anymore. I cannot play your games and will not, you see. If you feel any affection for me, you shall show it to me, or by God, Georgina, this will be the last time I ever speak to you." I crossed my hands behind my back in an attempt to appear studious and grieved, afraid to look at her. 

I finally gathered the courage to look at her. Again, the actress in her was thriving. Her beautiful face was twisted in a mask of martyrdom. Grey eyes big and filled with tears, her chin trembling in an oncoming burst, whether it was to be sadness or fury I couldn't say. Her mouth was working, the sound hushed by surprise. I daresay there had been others who had presented her with an ultimatum like mine before; however, I had found most stunningly beautiful women to be arrogant enough to believe that nobody would truly dare do that. 

"I shall be leaving London on Tuesday," - it was Saturday - "I am headed for France where I will stay for almost two months on business. I shall be gone for a substantial amount of time, you see. I need something from you, Georgina, something that will make me believe that when I come back, I will be greeted by you as I deserve." I looked at her sternly. "Indeed, I am almost entitled to have your affection."

"How so?" she thumped the heel of her boot against the wooden floor. "How so, I ask you, my Lord?" The last word was emphasized in a way one would have thought it was a swear word, not a title that I so respectfully carried. 

"I have been more than generous, Georgina. I am no fool, even though you continuously believe me to be just that. I know about men who secretly visit your home in the afternoons." I said, carefully taking a step back, slightly worried that she might fly into a rage. "Lord Cunningham, Sir Walton, young Lord Ashley..." I named the ones who were quick to brag, of whom I was not certain were speaking the complete truth. There were many more I could have named, but she wouldn't allow me to.

"What are you saying?" she yelled a bit too loud for my comfort and after a few minutes of complete silence, I sighed in relief when nobody came running to Georgina's aid in fear that I might be hurting her. She flung the bouquet that I had given her against the mirror, knocking over a few bottles of perfume; miraculously none of them fell to the floor and shattered. "How dare you?" she screamed. "How dare you!" her voice was reaching an alarming pitch of hysteria. "Are you spying on me now?"

"I don't need to lower myself like that, girl! Imagine the fool that I feel when I share the evening with all these...these...men! They are very quick to share their indiscretions with you. Just imagine!" I yelled back, unconcerned if anybody heard us at all. I trusted Georgina's theatre chambermaid to keep a vigil at our door, preventing anybody to nosy around and overhear our yelling. "They don't pay you like a prostitute. Oh, no!" I went on, unable to stop myself. "They bring you presents! Very expensive ones, I may add. Some you keep, most you pawn or sell, thus ensuring that you've enough money to lead the lavish life that you have become accustomed to in such a short time." What had hurt me the most was the fact that she did not deny the allegations. Did that mean I had hit the target?




The Innocent Whore



Georgina's face was beetroot red with anger. 

"There are many, including me, who have stopped blindly believing that you are able to earn living from singing, no matter how beautiful your voice is. Not everybody is a fool, you see." I said and pounded my fist against the small table that stood between us. "Very few of us are foolish enough to believe you to be a sweet little lady, you are trying to portray yourself as." I said. 

A solitary tear slid down Georgina's blushed face. 

I sighed. "I am not a poet, my dear." I said softly, wearily. "Not a tortured artist who would be satisfied with your mere presence to inspire him enough to create a masterpiece." I eyed the chair in the corner and wondered if I could chance to sit down and thus try to calm her, appearing non-threatening. I decided against it. "I am but a simple man with simple needs. I have been asking for your affection far too long. If you won't give it to me, I shall leave you alone."

"Don't you get what you want from your wife?" she asked scornfully, her face turning ugly with wickedness, unconsciously slipping into an East End drawl, which she so carefully kept out of her speech on other occasions. 

"My wife gives me what a husband needs. You," I said and extended my arm to her, "You can give me what a man desires. And you know exactly what I mean. No need for sarcasm."

Georgina seemed to have realized the game was over. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, wiped the tears off her face and very unceremoniously sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with the palm of her hand, a kerchief on the dressing room table ignored. 

"I shall leave now." I said and as if to show her how serious I was, I began buttoning up my coat. "I have business to attend to," I lied. "I shall come to your house in about an hour, Georgina. If you're not there to receive me, I shall know what your answer is."

"An hour?" she almost screeched. 

"That is enough time, I should imagine. You needn't beautify yourself for me; I already think you look like an angel. I will take you any way you care to give yourself to me. No matter what, you can't appear ugly to me, you know that." That was not quite true. Many a time I had peeked inside her manipulative little heart and the sight of it was anything but appealing. I cared not. Or was I simply trying to repair the damage, which so foolishly I might have created in a moment of anger?

"And now, my dear," I said and tipped my hat to her, "Goodbye or farewell, whichever you choose." I said and took one last look at the woman standing in the middle of the dressing room, looking very small and vulnerable. So much so, that I almost changed my mind. I wanted to run back to her, take her in my arms and cover her face with kisses, wipe away her tears with my lips. I did none of those things. I simply opened the door and walked out, noting that my arms trembled almost uncontrollably, the burning fire in my stomach causing a sensation of nausea. 

I hurried through the corridor with wobbly knees, half expecting Georgina to come running after me, yelling obscenities, and throwing things at my person, loudly announcing to anyone who would listen what a vile old man I were. No such thing happened. The door remained closed and apart from hushed conversation in the other dressing rooms, no sound was to be heard. Undoubtedly, some heard us arguing, but I couldn't be bothered with worry over it. I had put down my ultimatum and thus exposed myself to Georgina's mercy. Whether she would call my bluff or accept me, as I wanted to be accepted remained to be seen and I feared my heart could not stand another hour of uncertainty. As much as I wanted to keep seeing her, I couldn't stand any more of her rejection. She would give herself to me or that would be the end of it, I decided. I had been heartbroken before, and I had survived. Undoubtedly, I could survive it again. 

I found my loyal Norbert waiting for me; despite the chill in the air he appeared patient and unaffected by it. Under different circumstance, I would have loved to call him my friend, but life decided to deal the cards differently and I had accepted him as a faithful servant, awarding his devotion in any way I possibly could. "Home, my Lord?" he asked and I shook my head. "Why don't we simply ride around for an hour or so? I need time to think, you see." I said and gratefully accepted the offered hand, which helped me inside the calash. 

"Perhaps we should stop at a tavern, my Lord." Offered Norbert carefully. "You might want to have a bite to eat, or a glass of whiskey to warm you up." He looked around uneasily, whether afraid of reprimand from me or fearful that anybody would have heard us, I could not tell. 

Of course, he was right. We were mere weeks away from the latest and most horrible butchery of a young prostitute, attributed to the infamous fiend of East End. Despite the fact that police had greatly reduced nightly patrols and there were whispers that the case had been solved, people were still edgy and to be seen riding aimlessly about London would not be a smart thing to do. Anybody was a suspect and in the eyes of the East Enders, it was the aristocracy who had bestowed such evil upon the unfortunate whores. 

"Indeed, Norbert." I said and smiled. "I think I shall call upon Sir Merrick. I know it's a late hour, but you know Merrick," we both smiled as if Norbert was just as intimate of a friend to the old scientist as I had been. "He works until all hours of the morning. I have some business to take care of with him before I leave for France. I might as well do it now, mightn't I?"

Norbert nodded and closed the door of the calash. As we pulled away from the theatre, I felt a distant throbbing of an oncoming headache. I had practically spilled my heart out to Georgina, even though it was done in a metaphoric sense. I hoped she understood it, I wished I hadn't been quite so harsh and cruel, but at the same time, I realized it had to be done exactly like that or I would have been nothing but a toy in her hands forever. Even though I had glimpses of her own cruelty before, I still felt the greatest affection for her and to say that I would simply walk away and forget about her would have been a lie. Survive her, yes I would. Forget however, I would never be able to do that. 

After a good hour with my friend Merrick, who managed to pour a couple of stiff ones down my throat, I was on my way again. Pleasantly tipsy and for the moment managing to keep the headache at bay, I was strangely torn between the excitement of seeing Georgina and fear over the possible rejection. 

A wealthy, married, older man, not the handsomest in London, but then again far from ugly is what many young women seemed to look for. Actresses and performers seemed especially enthralled with men like me. The attraction of wealth itself probably needn't be explained at all. Married meant that there are only occasional visits and the lady is left to her own devices to entertain herself or others whenever and however she pleases when one is not available. Older - mature and beyond games, I should think is what was sought after. Someone who knows what one wants and strives to achieve it without the drama. Life is so simple if one wants it to be, alas, only in our later years we learn to cherish that simplicity and abandon the complexity of the emotional. Despite all that, I felt the emotions were knocking at my heart, banging against it really. I had a feeling I was headed for trouble, but knew not what to make of it. 

The more we approached Georgina's beautiful house in the West London, the more I became uncertain of my own self. Had I finally crossed the line with her? Had I finally given her the reason to turn away from me and let me be?

She was never the one who showed any affection for me beyond calling me darling. If she sensed I was annoyed with her, she would allow me to hold her hand for a while, even kiss it. She would smile at me gently and bat her pretty eyes in the most innocent of ways. Sometimes, when I sat in her dressing room quietly, she would pretend she had forgotten that I was there, raising her skirt to her knee and gently massaging her small calves, exposing her beautiful milky white skin to my longing eyes. Then, as if remembering the presence of a man, she would blush and drop them quickly, smoothing the wrinkles on her dress hurriedly, all the while looking at me in the mirror, and I have to say, those were the moments that I cherished the most. There was a smoky look to her eyes then, seductiveness so thick with sexuality that sometimes I found myself gasping for breath and wiping away the first signs of perspiration off my forehead. 

Would she look at me like that now? Would she play the great seductress or would there be a struggle? Would I finally be able to touch her soft skin, kiss her neck, smell her sex? I felt the stirring in my loins just thinking about the woman. The wretched wench! She had me reduced to the level of a schoolboy, salivating at the mere thought of a naked calf let alone anything beyond that. 

For a moment after the calash had stopped in front of Georgina's house, I was struck by an unreasonable panic, having a good mind to order Norbert to keep going and take me home. It was all good and dandy to be brave earlier in Georgina's dressing room. Now, however, my anger having subsided, I felt unprepared. If she was to tell me to leave, I would have done so, unable to hold it against her. I was a coward and I knew it. 

"I will be waiting at the end of the street for you, my Lord." Said Norbert and pointed to a lonely stretch of bushes a few houses over. "Just wave when you're ready." He added and nodded gratefully. It had struck me just how much I will miss Norbert while in France. Nobody there to take care of me like he does. No one to make sure I was warm, fed and helped to my bed safely if I had one drink too many. I made a mental note to thank Norbert before I left London, but as soon as my hand touched the black steel gate of the house, those thoughts evaporated and the discomfort punched me in the stomach, reminding me of my earlier fears. 

As the calash pulled away from the house, I climbed the stairs with heavy feet, my heart beating violently inside my throat. Is this what a condemned man feels like when ascending the gallows? As unreasonable as it might sound, that is exactly how I felt. 

As I reached the top of the stairs and balled my hand into a fist to knock on the door, it opened up before my fingers touched it and nearly startled me. To my great surprise, it wasn't a servant or a butler who answered, but rather Georgina herself. And she looked more beautiful than I had ever remembered her before. 

A moment of uneasiness turned into pure exhilaration once I realized she must have mentally given herself to me already. There was no anger on her face; it was free of any playfulness or mysticism. It was simply - Georgina. A beautiful girl, or rather a woman, who was awaiting her lover. Her blond hair was loose, reaching almost to her waist, no trace of make up on her face, unless she had applied it so discreetly that I wouldn't have noticed it unless I searched carefully. She was dressed in a simple, red dress with buttons on the front, running from the collar all the way down to the hem, which was brushing against her bare feet. But for a pair of small ruby earrings, which I had given her a few weeks earlier, she wore no jewellery. The effect was astounding. Here was the proof that a truly beautiful woman can be even more beautiful when she is nothing but her true self. 

She stepped aside, carefully peering out into the street to see if anyone had observed my arrival. I entered and with great difficulty resisted the temptation to take her in my arms right there and then. Doors closed, Georgina helped me to take off my coat and scarf, top hat and the always-present walking cane, which was more for a show than out of the real need. I realized the house must have been empty of any other persons, even animals. It was just the two of us. That knowledge itself had me excited.

Without a word, she led me up the staircase where I had not been before, at my previous visit she only allowed me into the den, where she usually entertained her lady friends, drinking tea and gossiping. 

Apart from a candle in Georgina's hand, the house was almost pitch dark and I stumbled more than once while following her. She appeared like a ghost, ascending the stairs in front of me, her silhouette emanating the feeble glare of the small light in her hand. Ever so gracefully, her free hand held up the skirts of her dress so that she wouldn't trip and fall. I would have closed my eyes in an attempt to impress the image into my mind forever, but I couldn't afford being careless. The climb was hard enough in the darkness and with my soul on fire with desire, I couldn't afford the displays of romanticism in the most foolish of ways. 

As, to my great relief, we finally reached the top of the stairs without me tumbling down like a fool, she opened the door and let me inside her bedroom, or so I believed it was. The room flickered in the light of numerous candles, giving it a seductive atmosphere, which I had hoped for and was foolishly surprised to actually see. What else but elegance could I have expected from Georgina? 

The room was gigantic, appearing even more so as it was almost completely devoid of any furniture. A big four-poster bed sat in the middle of it, rich tapestries decorating the walls, heavy curtains hiding the windows and thick carpet covering the floor. Apart from some twenty tall candleholders, nothing the room was empty. Despite of it all, it looked graceful and seductive, although thinking about it now, perhaps it simply projected the radiance of its mistress. 

Heavy, wine red velvet covered the bed with matching pillows, which were, very curiously, lying on the floor around the legs, rather than on top of it. As Georgina closed the door behind us, I noticed a small table, which was invisible to me before entering completely. It held a bottle of honey-coloured whiskey and two glasses. Obviously, Georgina had prepared herself for me. 

She pointed to the bed and uncertain of what to do next, I walked over and sat on it, feeling very uncomfortable, as if I was a giant in a dollhouse. I barely noticed that we haven't spoken a word as of yet. She placed the candle, which illuminated our way up the stairs on the table next to the bottle of whiskey and poured us both a large drink. I accepted the offered gladly and was quite surprised when I saw her bottom hers in one swift gulp. I had never seen Georgina touch a drink beyond a careful sip of sherry in her dressing room, never a whole glass; certainly not anything as strong as she had drank now. "Bottoms up!" she declared and let out a tiny hiccup. 

The situation called for a roar of laughter, but I was beyond the comical. I wanted her so much and having her this near me, practically in my grip, I felt my throat tighten with nervousness. 

I sat on the bed, holding and not touching my drink and after a few uncomfortable moments, Georgina approached me, gently prying the glass out of my hands and downing its contents. 

I could have slapped myself on the forehead had I had enough presence of mind to realize that she must have been used to the heavy drinking from her East End days, where many drink to keep warm or simply to get over their troubles in a haze of the alcohol fumes, making things appear better for a while, but inevitably making it all even harder than it had been in the first place. 

"I say!" I mumbled, unable to hide my shock. Georgina giggled and the playfulness, which I was so accustomed to, was back. She was obviously tipsy, but not outright drunk. Her heavy eyelids half hid the beautiful greyness of her big eyes, her lips slightly apart, tongue slowly running over the upper lip and then in the other direction across the bottom one. 

I swallowed hard. I was ready to pounce and tear her clothes off, make love to her right there on the floor. I didn't care where it happened, but happen it would. That I had decided as I was climbing the stairs and nothing would stop me now. She looked exactly like the hot-blooded woman I always searched for, the kind that makes your head spin and cry out in ecstasy. 

"Take off your clothes," I said, my voice strangely weak and hoarse. 

Georgina extended the arm that held the glass and dropped it to the floor, which in turn gently bounced off the carpet and then rolled away. Her eyes firmly held my gaze, her face a smug grin, while she ever so slowly undid button after button, starting at the top, working her way over the chest, stomach and waist. Once she reached to buttons that held the fabric over her legs, she opened the dress wide and let it slide off her shoulders, down her body and legs, and then crumple to the floor in a rich heap around her legs. She wore a simple white nightgown, so thin I could see right through it, the candles emphasizing her silhouette through the delicate material. 

I gasped at the sight, which was even more beautiful than I had expected it to be. She was a tiny woman, but when seeing her almost naked, I noted wide hips and heavy breasts, which in contrast to her slim neck and narrow waist made her figure appear stunning. Her legs were thin but strong, her arms long and elegant, as if they belonged to a ballerina. The material of her nightgown was so thin I had no trouble seeing the dark areolas and erect nipples, whether in arousal or from a slight cold which hung over the room, I couldn't quite say. The sight of the delicate, blond muff between her legs almost drove me mad and I couldn't help myself but to gulp loudly and longingly wet my lips. 

Again, like a beautiful dancer, she stepped out of the heap at her feet and approached me cautiously, as if sensing my struggle to remain sitting. 

"All of it..." was all I could say, feeling the tie in my throat restraining my vocal cords and breathing. She was beautiful, I had always known that, but I hadn't expected her to be this stunning. Perhaps it had only been my imagination, but at that particular moment in time, I couldn't have imagined a more attractive creature in the entire world. 

As if to tease me for a moment longer, Georgina ran her hands around her own neck, lifted the heavy hair slightly in the air and let it drop over her breasts, the gold shimmer of it creating an aura around her head. 

"Georgina..." I whispered and tore at my clothes, kicking off the shoes, pulling the jacket and pants off, still sitting down, probably creating a comical if not pathetic image. In a hurry to take off my shirt, I clumsily tore off a button, which flew through the air and bounced off the carpet, exactly as the whiskey glass had before. 

"Here..." she said and stepped in front of me. "Let me do it." When her long fingers touched my body I felt like my chest was ready to explode, I could hardly wait for her to lie underneath me and I would enter her. I was afraid I'd climax right there, sitting on the bed, still in my underclothes. Wouldn't I feel a fool then?

She undid my shirt, each button carefully released of its restrains, the pace so slow, I was afraid I would go mad before she was done. I reached over and put my hands on her hips, running them around her firm buttocks and squeezed them firmly. "No!" she exclaimed, but I could see that she had trouble restraining herself from pleasure. "Not yet..." she whispered and brushed my hands off her body. I could smell her skin, a sweet and delicate scent of lavender creating an invisible cloud around her. 

She wouldn't allow me to touch her body, so I gently ran my fingers against her nightgown, careful not to press them against her skin. I couldn't wait much longer, I decided. Teasing was all good and dandy, but I was so hot with desire, I simply could not stand this for much longer. 




The Innocent Whore



I looked Georgina in the eyes and tried to stand up, but she pressed against my shoulders and pushed me back onto the bed. For a moment she was distracted with an attempt to keep me still and I took advantage of it, I grabbed onto the hem of her nightgown and with a powerful tug ripped it apart, in one swift pull tearing it from the bottom to the middle of her thighs. 

Georgina squealed in surprise and tried to step away, but I wouldn't let her. She had led me too far to stop now. I grasped the soft fabric just below where the tear ended and pulled again, this time managing to rip the gown right up to her breasts. 

"No..." moaned Georgina as my hands gently grabbed onto her full breasts, massaging them softly, yet firmly. She pushed against my chest as if to get away, but I had her in my grip now, her legs squeezed in between mine in a firm hold, my lips on her torso just above her navel, sucking onto the softest of skins I had ever touched, my thumbs encircling her nipples, pushing them up and down, her entire body responding to my touch. 

I let go of her breasts and ran my hands behind her back, pulling her onto me and slightly down, so that I could easily suck onto one of her nipples, biting it softly, Georgina moaning loudly now. With one of my hands still on her back, I ran the other one down her buttocks and around the hip, landing it between her legs, touching the soft muff and feeling the wetness of her sex just before she managed to pry herself out of my grip and jump away. 

Surprised at her reaction I stood up and in one swift move took off my loosened cravat, shirt and undershirt, altogether balled up in a messy heap, and threw it somewhere to the side of the bed. 

My prick hard as a rock and saluting through the underpants I took a step towards Georgina, just as she took a step away from me. I was faster than her, however, and before she could move farther away, I caught her, tearing the last of the nightgown off her body. Her white skin gleamed in the candlelight and I noticed it to be slightly blushed. I took her in my arms and for the first time I held her like that, trembling and vulnerable against my body, feeling her every nerve twitching with what I thought was desire. 

"I've..." she gasped and let out a little shriek. "Oh, William, I've never..." her trembling seemed to intensify. 

"You what?" I asked and stepped away from her, still firmly holding onto her shoulders, making sure she didn't escape me. She was crying now, tears were streaming down her face, she appeared to be grinning, only I realized it was a frown of true distress. "What, Georgina?"

"I've never done this..." she sobbed and looked towards the bed. One of her arms clumsily covered her breasts, while the other one squeezed between her legs. 

"You what?!" I would be a true fool to believe that tall story, I thought. 

Still crying, Georgina vigorously shook her head. "Never, I swear!" Anger rose inside of me, unexplainable fury and while still holding onto one of her shoulders, I slapped her hard across the face. "You're lying!" I stopped myself then, for I knew if I slapped her again, I wouldn't be able to stop beating her until I had hurt her more than I wanted to. 

"No!" she cried. "No!" as if to protect herself she raised her arms and covered her face. She was trembling like a child, and for a moment I panicked. What on Earth was this game she was playing? 

"My sister, Emilia..." she sobbed, her arms still covering her face. "She taught me things that I could do..." Slowly she lowered her arms, peering at me, as if half expecting another blow. 

"What things?" as if in a haze, I remembered Lord Ashley telling me about Georgina's expertise with hands. How good she was with her mouth, exactly like the courtesans in Parisian brothels. That is why I didn't believe his boasts of the conquest.

"Just...things..." she said and sniffed, brushing away her tears. She seemed to calm down slightly, but her body still trembled. 

"You want me to believe that at twenty-something, coming from the East End, you've never felt a hard prick in your cunt?" Georgina closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm nineteen. I had to say I was older, or the theatre director wouldn't have allowed me to sing. I started performing when I was seventeen."

If she tried to turn me off her, it worked. I felt my prick softening and my interest cooling off. I had expected a lot of things from her - to fight me in passion or rejection, but not this. 

"I don't believe you." I said and turned away, looking for my clothes. This wasn't what I wanted. 

"It's true!" I felt her grab onto my arm. "It's true, please! You've got to believe me. I'll show you." She pressed her small body against my back and ran her hand around my hip, placing it on my underpants. She grabbed my softening prick lightly and gave it a gentle squeeze. I could feel the effect instantly. "Come..." she said and turned me towards her. "I'll show you." With that she slowly knelt in front of me, tugged at my underpants and slowly pulled them down my legs. 

Even in distress, her face wet with tears, she looked absolutely stunning. She looked at me and cupped my testicles with one hand, while stroking my prick with the other. Her eyes still holding mine she opened her mouth and licked against the head of my prick gently, so gently I barely felt it, but at the same time, it was like a bolt of fire shot through my entire being. I was hard and ready for her again, and it had been mere seconds since my prick was limp. 

I still wasn't certain if I believed her or not, like I said before, she was a great manipulator and if indeed she was still a maiden as she claimed to be, she was even better than I ever expected her to be. Georgina opened her mouth wide and took me deep inside her, half of my manhood hidden, her soft lips enveloping me and creating a firm pressure, which wonderful. 

I was very close to climax within seconds and I didn't want that. I wanted to feel her softness, the warmth of her cunt. I wanted to make love to her like I had been fantasizing about for weeks. I wanted her underneath me, flapping her legs and arms like a delicate bird, moaning and gasping in pleasure and ecstasy. 

"Enough..." I said and pulled myself out of her mouth. I lifted her to her feet and bent down to kiss her on her mouth, tasting myself on her lips. I pushed my leg in between hers, and with one hand firmly pressing against the small of her back, I slid the other one between her legs, touching her wetness and running my fingers up and down her crack. Her legs trembled and she stopped kissing me but did not pull her lips away. She simply kept them open, breathing hard into my mouth, shuddering each time my finger ran over her clit. 

It was an uncomfortable position to be standing in the middle of the room with nothing to lean against, trying not to topple over, holding a trembling woman in my arms, but I was afraid that if I broke off even for a second, she'd run away and the moment would be lost. I kept running my fingers up and down her wetness, pausing on her clit and circling it, rubbing it and then ever so gently dipped the tip of my finger inside her softness, to which her reaction was so strong that she almost tore herself from my arms. 

"No! No!" she gasped, her hands pushing me away, but to my astonishment, she seemed to have spread her legs wider. I pulled her towards me again and for a moment she did not resist my fingers exploring her crotch, gently brushing and pressing against her clit. As soon as I tried to dip a finger inside of her, however, she jumped again and I realized she wasn't lying. She truly was a maiden, and it wouldn't do to deflower her standing up, cold and uncomfortable. 

I bent down and picked her up, her body lighter than I had expected it to be. Tears were again streaming down her face and I was afraid her resistance would be too much for me. "I'm an old man, Georgina," I said playfully. "And here you are, making me carry you around like a child." She smiled, it was a sad smile, nevertheless, it was a smile and I was happy. I carried her to the bed, where I tipped her over slightly so that she could undo the covers. Then, I gently laid her down and joined her, covering us both with the heavy velvet, my entire being trembling with desire. 

Perhaps she didn't realize that lying in bed would make it harder for her to resist and she was somewhat trapped. If I wanted to dip my fingers inside her cunt, it would be almost impossible to resist. I propped myself on an elbow, covering her entire face with kisses, sucking onto the skin of her neck, suckling on her nipples, finding my way to her navel and blowing into it, which made her double with giggles. I was ready to do anything to relax her and have her allow me to end up where I wanted to be all along, deep inside her soft cunt. 

I kissed my way over her hip and down the leg, playfully biting the inside of her thigh, while she screeched in surprise. I did the same with the other thigh, which again was accompanied by a playful shriek and loud giggles. However, as soon as I squeezed myself in between her knees and knelt in front of her, her bounciness was gone. Her eyes wide with fear, she was obviously on the verge of tears again. 

Kneeling between her long legs, which were wrapped around my back, I explored her wetness with both hands, massaging the insides of her thighs, softly brushing against her cunt, rubbing on her clit, admiring her face cringing with pleasure and fear. I positioned my finger on the entrance of her cunt and stilled myself for a moment, waiting for her to realize what I was doing. She looked at me and held my gaze, as ever so slowly, I entered her, her hands pushing against mine in panic. 

"It's alright, sweetheart," I whispered, gently pushing deeper. "It's alright..." I took the finger slightly out and pushed it back in again, Georgina's face twitching in discomfort. 

"Oh..." was all she said, yet remained perfectly still as if waiting for an inevitable moment, which we both knew was coming. Placing the palm of my hand on her crotch, I massaged her like that for a few minutes, her face contorting, her breathing becoming more laboured by the second. She was obviously enjoying herself, even though there was fear that was blocking her from relaxing completely. 

My prick was hard and throbbing by now, I knew that once I entered her I wouldn't last long, the wait was much too lengthy for me to be able to restrain myself from pleasure. I pushed my finger in again, and this time I didn't stop pushing when she gasped and slightly lifted her head and shoulders off the bed. I kept pushing gently but firmly, trying to break through the barrier, which I so evidently doubted only minutes earlier. 

"It hurts..." Georgina moaned, but I wouldn't be distracted. 

"I know," I whispered and pulled my finger out. She looked at me and god knows what possessed me to lift my hand to her lips and slip the finger inside her mouth, making her lick off her juices. She closed her eyes and sucked on my finger, giving me time to look down between her legs and position my prick against her. "Look at me, Georgina." I said and she did, her eyes growing wide at the realization that the moment I had been waiting on so long was finally here. 

"Wait, wait..." she pleaded but I could wait no longer. I shifted my weight over her body and as gently as I could pushed inside her, pulling myself upwards, covering her lips with mine. She didn't want to kiss me then. Turning her head aside, she tried to slip away, but the position we were in, it was impossible for her to manipulate her body beyond the turning of her head. She pressed her hands against my chest just as I pushed once and pushed again and again, the barrier inside her cunt preventing me from entering her completely. 

The more weight I applied, the louder her groans, and finally after I had almost given up hope to enter her without having to use more force than I wanted to, I felt myself sliding all the way in, blissful softness enveloping my prick, somewhere in the distance a scream of pain and then silence. 

I stilled myself for a moment and then propped my weight onto my elbows, resting them at the sides of Georgina's delicate body. Afraid to move I looked into her face and found her eyes shut tight, her face a mask of pain. I pulled slightly out and entered her all the way, and again there was a scream, but not quite as loud as the first one. 

"It hurts..." she gasped. "Oh, god, it hurts..."

I knew it hurt, I could see it in her face, this was not an act she was putting on; it was genuine. I also knew that stopping now would not help her pain any. So, I began moving in and out gently, barely an inch either way, rocking myself on top of her, grabbing onto her shoulders from underneath her body. 

Georgina appeared to try and put up with the pain as best as she could, but her face kept grimacing with each of my moves. "Breathe..." I whispered. "Breathe...it'll get better, I promise." For one short second she opened her eyes and flashed me an angry look, the kind that just might be followed by a smack, only her body was pinned under mine, her hands twisted between my torso and hers. I still felt her pushing me away from her, but now, deep inside her, I couldn't be stopped. As gently as I could, I kept sliding in and out, inch by - for Georgina, at least - painful inch. With each thrust I tried to pull out a bit more only to enter all the way in again. 

"Oh, Georgina..." I whispered in her ear. "You are so very beautiful..." I continued and meant it. "You drive me mad, you know." She moaned and yelped. "So... very... mad..." I thrust inside her after each word and it was like I was giving her a signal of what I was doing, so that she could anticipate it and respond. It took a while, but after a few minutes of gentle rocking back and forth, her face seemed to relax a bit, although the pain was still evident. 

"Push back, darling..." I whispered. "Push against me..." she tried, bless her heart, she truly did. 

"I can't move..." she finally gasped and as if on a cue, we both laughed out loud, her laughter cut off short by another gasp of discomfort. 

I could feel myself slowly reaching the moment of climax and I sped up the gentle pumping, pulling out more, sliding all the way in, increasing the rhythm, all the while looking into the beautiful face of my lover. 

When I was certain that she was comfortable enough not to try to wiggle herself from underneath me, I shifted my weight from the elbows to the palms of my hands, pressing down into the bed and thrusting harder. 

"Oh...oh..." yelped Georgina and as if trying to get me off her, pressed the fingernails into my skin. 

"I know, I know..." I said. I was certain this would be painful again, but I just had to finish inside of her. I had to fuck her like I wanted to, rough and hard, powerful thrusts against her softness, my heavy breath against her face. 

I felt the coldness of the sweat beads on my back, my chest and forehead. Georgina was still in evident discomfort, but to my surprise, and great delight I might add, she seemed to have fallen into the rhythm with me and I could feel her body swaying against mine, gently, nevertheless I felt it. I knew she would be a passionate woman, even though she had just lost her virginity, she allowed her body to enjoy it. 

Feeling my climax was but a few thrusts away I pushed my upper body up and still kneeling in front of Georgina, my prick deep inside of her, I grabbed under her knees and drove her legs high up, almost pressing them against her body. She squealed and in panic, her hands squeezed my wrists. This time I couldn't be bothered with being gentle. I rammed inside of her, deep and hard, as hard as I could. I fucked her fast, hearing my own groans growing louder as I approached the climax, coupled by her moans, just as loud as mine. 

"A...a..." was all she could utter, not exactly screaming but very close. I wished I could have restrained myself from a furious fuck, but I couldn't do that no matter how much I wanted. The frustration, which built up over the weeks of my fantasizing about this precise moment was too much and like an inexperienced, young boy, I pounded away into climax so strong, I thought I would hammer us both right through the bed. 

As I toppled onto Georgina, my legs twitching, hardly able to catch my breath, I had enough presence of mind to roll off her quickly before I smothered the poor girl. Still in the whirlwind of pleasure, I looked down at her crotch and noticed a trace of blood, not much, but enough to stop me from tasting her sex like I wanted to before. 

I grabbed onto the first thing I could find, the remnants of Georgina's now ruined nightgown, which I hadn't even realized we brought to bed with us and wiped between her legs gently, while she blushed in rolled her eyes in embarrassment. "Don't worry...not to worry..." I kept repeating, kissing her breasts and stealing glances towards my hand to make sure I had wiped her clean before I was to pleasure her. 

The deed complete, I thrust my hand where the now bloody fabric had been and working gently but tirelessly, I circled her clit while her body kept swaying up and down, her breathing again laboured, her eyes closed, this time in pure enjoyment. It had taken quite a while and I almost lost hope of bringing her to a climax of her own, when finally, she thrust her pelvis high up in the air, pressing hard against the bed with the balls of her heels, her entire body spasming and trembling, her mouth wide open, her eyes searching mine. She remained like that for a few seconds, and as I slipped my finger deep inside of her, I could feel the vibration of her muscles against the intruder, half-moan, half-scream escaping her. 

Afterwards, as we lay side by side, resting and gently caressing each other, I made her tell me of all the things her sister had taught her and I couldn't help myself but secretly laugh at all the fools who have missed this divine fuck, only to be fooled by thrusting their eager pricks between the tightly squeezed thighs, climaxing into the bed covers rather than the woman they thought they were servicing. The most insistent ones she allowed to enter her from behind, promising that she would not tell a soul they enjoyed an act of sodomy, which to this day is considered a sin rather than a simple perversion. 

"You had made a woman of me." She said as I was getting dressed and the innocence of the statement made me smile. 

"No," I replied frankly, "you were a woman all along, I just showed you how to enjoy it. My innocent whore, should think." I said. "Oy!" she smacked me playfully as my hand slipped between her legs and one more time, I brought her to a climax so strong she screamed in earnest. 

My business kept me away from Georgina before I left for France and many a time she was in my thoughts, especially when I was warming my bones in the company of others, alone in the strange country, longing for my beautiful nightingale. 

I never saw Georgina again, at least not in person. While I was away, she married one of the singers in the same theatre where she worked and never got a chance to meet with her again. Why she picked me to be her first true lover, I could never quite understand. When I attempted to creep backstage as I used to, her loyal chambermaid firmly prevented me from it, then pleadingly asked me to leave her mistress alone. Forever. 

I did just that and even though I regret it sometimes, I think it was probably for the best. I had found other mistresses, some virgins, some not. Yet, the memory of Georgina, the innocent whore will always have a special place in my heart.