That evening, my Christian conscience intruded deeply into my thoughts. In short, I was filled with misgivings over my behavior that day. I had slaked a lustful hunger and in so doing, my mind was no longer filled by it. Other thoughts and feelings tumbled into the void left by the sated lust, and those thoughts were often accusatory of my vile behavior. As well, I remembered the warnings about using the power of the ring. Had I been discreet? Was I using it properly? Would this somehow bring discredit, perhaps the fading away of which I had been warned?
But the worst feelings were engendered by the belief that I had stolen a young girl’s innocence. I admit to wrestling with it as Jacob wrestled with the Angel, all night long. All the tribulation did not reach a satisfactory result; I fell asleep as dawn stirred in the morn, still troubled.
It was several days later that I again met Harriet. She seemed unchanged by the encounter. Knowing so little as I did then of the fair sex, I could not fathom it. Harriet remained sweet and flirty as she had been before. I returned to the manor in complete confusion. By the mores of the day she should have been a ruined woman.
It was then that I had the first of many fundamental realizations brought about by the experience of the ring. Women naturally are able to put aside a dalliance, nature has imbued them with such ability, so that they remain bent on allying themselves with a man who will provide for them and their children despite whomever might be the man who happened to provide the seed. Harriet put aside the dalliance and continued on the path nature intended; find a husband.
With this profound understanding, my thoughts turned back to the ring’s power. If I was correct, such dalliance would have little prolonged effect and would not be the tragedy my mind had been assuming. It would only become a tragedy if it became general knowledge and interfered with her purpose of finding a husband. It is as the famous French writer, Monsieur Moliere said, "It is a public scandal that gives offence and it is no sin to sin in secret." Women naturally seem to understand it is only public scandal that carries penalty. I went to bed that night dreaming of many different possible uses of the ring.
The opportunity to test this new understanding came quickly. The next evening I had invited the Bennett’s to supper. They had a small estate and four daughters to marry off. I think Mrs. Bennett was already worried that she might not find suitable mates for all of her daughters, especially plain Jane. It made for episodes bordering on panic. I always pretended to not notice but her husband and the older daughters certainly noticed. More than once I had seen the older girls blushing over some comment by their mother.
That evening, the Bennett’s came with their daughters, Jane, Mary, Georgina, and Lydia. Lydia like a sprite, was incapable of holding her tongue; she talked constantly despite the best efforts of Mrs. Bennett to forestall her. I found her exuberance charming and a well received respite from the rather dreary life in the manor. I encouraged her, as her mother tried, in vain, to rein her in as a high spirited mare. The other girls noted the interplay of wills and giggled as I whipped Lydia on to new heights of chatter, earning her an admonishment from Mrs. Bennett. Finally, Mr. Bennett entered the fray, “My Dear, I think you had just as well retire from the field. With Lord Northam encouraging Lydia, we have no hope of victory.” At that, the girls all laughed, except Lydia who had no idea she was the center of a struggle, which brought even more laughter.
In short, the supper was a success and enjoyed by all, even Mrs. Bennett once she let Lydia be the charming sprite she was.
After supper, we retired to the drawing room. Two of the servants were passable fiddlers and they were brought in with their instruments. They began with a popular minuet, the newest fad in dancing. I took Jane’s hand and Mr. Bennett took his wife’s hand. The four of us made a gay round of it. The next dance I took Mary as Mr. Bennett danced with Georgina. For the last dance I got Lydia up, and though she was only eight, she was a passable dancer.
The small party broke up into several groups, leaving me to talk with Jane. It was rather contrived but I made no notice of it. Jane was a bit flustered but did her best to hold converse with me. The small groups flowed about the drawing room, as one of the servants continued playing a country air. It allowed me to find Mary alone by the window. “A lovely evening,” I said.
“Yes it is, my Lord. Thank you for inviting us,” she responded. "You were terrible in rousing Lydia against Mama's wishes," she said in reproval but was smiling as she said it.
“I take your reproval to heart. I had hoped to speak with you of some matters,” I said earnestly.
“Not Jane?” she asked.
“The affairs of the heart are guided by passion, and passion alights where it will,” I said. The girl blushed a little and fanned herself. “I would like to meet you at the Vicarage tomorrow. Can you get away, for prayer, and meet me there?” I felt the now familiar surge from the ring as my will swept out to the girl.
The blush faded and a more serene countenance replaced it. “Of course. I often go to the chapel.”
“I will see you then tomorrow morn,” I said. “Now, I should go speak with Georgina and Lydia before our conference arouses suspicions.” I left Mary before the window, a bemused look on her face.
Once again, I bowed the Vicar out of his own home leaving it to my use. I laughed thinking how I might be using his bed more than the poor fellow who lived here if the ring fulfilled all its promise. I waited in the greatest excitement.
Once again, I heard soft steps leading to the chapel door and beheld the beauty of a young woman awaiting my desires. I had picked a flower from the vicar's garden and gave it to Mary who seemed well pleased with the gift. Once again, I made love to her with sweet words. And once again, I felt the surge of power as my will interposed itself into her mind. Mary meekly followed me to the now familiar bedroom.
Once again, I had a beautiful young woman to fulfill my desires awaiting my pleasure. Mary, being two years older than Harriet, had passed beyond the cusp of change from girl to woman and was no longer in the guard of the Goddess Hebe. Instead, Venus had taken the girl and transformed her. Her body was much shapelier, losing the angularity of the girl and assuming the form of a woman. Her breasts were full and rounded, surmounted by red nipples. Her belly was still flat and smooth, untouched yet by time or childbearing. Perhaps the main difference was the forest above her womanhood. Harriet had barely begun to have such decoration to her pudenda, but Mary sported a full triangle. As this was the first woman I had seen thusly, I was entranced by the vision.
As Mary removed the last of her clothing and I mine, I looked upon her in her glory. She still held the flower in her hands and it stood out against her skin. I took the flower from her nerveless hands and set it beside the bed. I led her to the bed comfortably covered with down coverlets. I kissed her and she returned the kiss with some passion. Perhaps she had come under the influence of the Ring, but once here she was determined to get full pleasure for herself, and I was not one to argue.
Standing there beside the bed, her hand found my staff and she cooed in pleasure as her hand stroked it. The pleasure was exquisite. I had never had a woman touch me and it unmanned me. I tried hard to please her, but I seemed unable to concentrate for more than a few seconds, her hand stroking my cock pulling me away. Mary had obvious experience in how to excite a man in this way. I felt deep within me a profound tingling, and could do no more than moan, completely inarticulate as I was, as I felt the trembling then the pulsing as my essence poured forth in great blasts. Shudder after shudder coursed through my body as I emptied myself onto the floor, my knees threatening to buckle and leave me a heap on the floor.
Mary did not allay her actions even as I blasted out my seed. She moaned and continued stroking me. I think, had there been a brief respite, I would have flagged in my desire, but the continued pressure kept my shaft as an iron bar. Mary pulled me onto the bed and led me to her center. She was hot as she dipped my cock into her. I pressed but felt a dry resistance. Therefore, I rubbed my cock up and down her furrow, wetting it thoroughly and her as well. When next I pressed forward, I slid into her. As I broached her maiden-head, she too cried out, not as sharply as Harriet, perhaps expecting it more.
I quickly set to fucking Mary. Having just spent my spunk, I had no need of quick release. It was just my third time in a woman, and having little pressure for release as we started, I was able to enjoy the experience. I felt her around my shaft, the trembling of her, the feel of skin on skin. It was glorious.
All the while, Mary was climbing her own pinnacle. For the first time, I experienced a woman’s climax. She cried out and trembled, her fingers ripped at my back and her legs went round me, her heels digging in as if I were her trotter and she was urging me on to a faster pace. At the same time, her womanhood milked at my shaft, pulling my seed forth. It was on me in a moment, spending deeply in the girl below me. My second one nearly as large as my first, left me feeling drained of everything.
I fell to the bed, gasping for air. Mary turned to me, holding me to her as she cried. As I recovered my sense, I wondered why she was crying. She was crying and smiling, and I realized it was a release of great emotion in her first experience. I held her fast to me as she cried and laughed.
Sweet Mary was the second woman that the ring gave possession of to me.
Copyright Rod O'Steele © 2007, 2011, 2012