That evening I entered the library of the Manor house. It was large, larger even than the Woodhouse library. I assumed that the library was at least 500 years old and perhaps older. I knew from the servants that the previous Lord was a learned man and read much. Of course, with 500 years of learning and reading, he should have been such.
Truth be told, I had been drawn to the library not in search of Sophia, the Goddess of Wisdom but by Calliope, the Muse of Epic poetry and therefore, of rapes. Most of the books were in Latin, the language of the learned even now. A few more were in Greek with their strange runes and some few were in English. There were plays by Marlowe and a fellow unknown to me then, Shakespeare. Then I found a few journals in French, once the language of England and perhaps the birth language of the previous Lord for in 1066 the Normans made England a French possession and in his youth many of the nobility would have spoken French.
In the French section I found my treasure. It was a recent book with hardly any wear and bright new printed illustrations. I opened it and the first illustration burned my soul. A woman had taken a man’s cock into her mouth. The book slipped from my nerveless fingers and I had to catch it in midair to keep from dropping it.
I quickly leafed through the book. It was a primer on sex. I had little French having had but two years in Primary school and only studying French one of those years and then some usage in trade. But I had enough words to make some sense of it. It discussed all of the ways of sex, some positions seemed impossible and others disgusting. There was a whole section of love, French style as most people say, that is with the mouth. The boys had often joked about such things but I had never believed them possible until I saw with my own eyes the illustrations in this book. I read avidly how a man could reduce a woman to uninhibited passion by use of his mouth and tongue on her sex. I read on, unbelieving.
I commandeered this book and took it to my room and would turn to it night after night until I near had it memorized. It brought back my French, then expanded it as I struggled to learn the secrets of the French. This would shortly come to my aid, but I do not wish to hurry past the next interlude.
At ten the next morning, I was at the Vicarage escorting the poor man away from his house once again. I hoped there were many in the area needing his services. Meg, with the same beautiful hair and striking blue eyes as her cousin, strode into the chapel. I surveyed her, she was nearly as perfect as her cousin, just one year or so short of full perfection as a woman. But she was still enchanting and I could see fully capable as a woman.
Without a word, I took her to the bedroom. I noted her hesitation on the threshold. She glanced at the bed and me, seemed to steel herself and stepped into the room. Little sixteen-year-old Meg became the second girl I had without resource to the ring. “You liked watching Elizabeth. Is that how you wish it?” I asked.
“No Lord Northam, you’ve no need to tear my clothing,” she said.
“Jeremy, my dear Meg,” I told her.
“Jeremy,” she said smiling. “I think more like yesterday for me. I am apprehensive I find.”
“Understandable. I was myself the first time.” I took her into my arms and we kissed. She was naïve of sex, even kissing. I could tell as my tongue touched her lips that she was surprised. But she followed and quickly found her pleasure as I kissed her.
I began to undress her and myself. As I undressed myself, she took over and undressed herself. Soon, we were both in our natural state. She stood, with her breasts on display, quite nice they were, and one hand holding her kerchief over her pudenda. My cock stood proud and her eyes were held by it.
I led her to the bed and gently pulled her onto it. I began kissing her again. Her hands left their role as protector and soon began holding me, pulling me against her body, now hot with passion. Having just read the French book, I was determined to apply its lessons. I began kissing her breasts, which hardened and blushed under such attention. Kissing further down, I came to her forest, lighter in color and thinner than her cousin’s.
As I kissed her thighs, Meg watched wide-eyed my approach to her sex, then shuddered as I directed my tongue against her. “Oh Lord,” she huffed as I attacked her fortress. Her hips began to quiver then hunch up no longer under her control. “You did this not with Elizabeth.”
“I saved it for you, enjoy it,” I said and ran my tongue over her sex. I noted that she seemed to jump whenever my tongue was over a bump near the top of her sex. I gave it concerted attention and the effect on Meg was amazing. Quickly, she was thrashing about on the bed, her hips bouncing so that I had to take both hands to keep myself in contact with her. She flooded with her arousal and my face was awash in her spendings. I knew then why these French books were so popular if they could make a woman so wanton with passion.
“I need you Jeremy,” Meg cried out. Not one to disappoint a lady in such a circumstance, I quickly applied myself to the task and was buried deeply in her. Our congress was wild and fast, my own state affected by the wild abandon of Meg.
Our bodies were soon bathed in sweat as we frantically sought completion. I was first, shouting as I flooded the dear girl with my seed. When she felt the surge, she too attained her climax, crying out as I slowed then stopped. She continued pressing up against me as my staff shrank until it fell out. I collapsed beside the girl drained and happy.
This was a pleasant time. I had no need of the ring the next time I asked Mary Bennett to join me. Meg and Elizabeth were always eager for my visit. If Elizabeth happened to be away visiting someone, Meg would escort me to the garden and take her cousin’s place in our games in the garden. If Elizabeth was home, I’d have at it with her. I was never disappointed in visits to the Woodhouse Mansion.
I had resort to the power of the ring once again with Harriet. On the mention of a second tryst, Harriet remained cold until I brought to bear the power of the ring. I think she was still too young to be quite brave enough to follow me. But on the third mention of a meeting, she acceded without the ring’s power, her eyes alight with an inner fire that our previous meetings had created inside her.
I have vowed to tell the truth, and the truth shines with its own inner splendor, perfect only when whole. Changing a single thought would corrupt this manuscript. Therefore, I will recount what occurred as well as my poor memory may permit, changing nothing, and letting the reader decide the severity of my faults, which all men have. I am simply the conduit through which the past speaks to the present.
I now come to a passage that I wish I could write in a different manner. But I cannot. For the truth shines with its own crystalline purity and only with the truth may one purify his spirit. I must tell what happened as it happened and let my shame be exposed. I will tell you my son, I have suffered from my actions. Do not judge me harshly. Perhaps I suffered not as much as those recounted herein, but for far longer as they are dust and I go on, recounting my own transgressions and wishing them different, a curse of a long life.
And so I had my little quartet of nymphs. And it continued into the autumn. As the leaves began to fall, I had a visit from Mr. Bennett. It seems that Mary had come with child. And though I had admonished her not to speak of our first time under the spell of the ring, I had not placed such admonition the many other times. She had told her father that I had my way with her and was the father of her now expected child.
He was angry, but not as angry as one might expect. His concern was that I do the right thing, that is marry Mary. I consoled him and said I was a gentleman and understood exactly what was expected.
It was at this point that I did not live up to being a gentleman. In a bit of a state, I determined to escape the trap into which I had placed myself. The ring! I bent my powers to the ring determined to change the mind of old Bennett away from pursuing the idea of marriage. I felt the power of the ring reach out as I directed it… to find nothing. It was as if there was no other mind in the room for it to influence. Defeated, I gave up the attempt realizing that my Uncle had been explicit; the ring had power over the mind of women.
(Editor’s Note: While such information was unknown to Lord Northam, we now know that the brains of men and women are fundamentally different in structure and operation. Researcher Sandra Witelson has written that gross physical differences by gender of a brain are discernable by simply looking at the brain, the anatomy of male and female brains being as different as it is for the sex organs. “What is astonishing to me," Witelson has said, "is that it is so obvious that there are sex differences in the brain and these are likely to be translated into some cognitive differences, because the brain helps us think and feel and move and act. Yet there is a large segment of the population that wants to pretend this is not true." So it is perhaps not surprising that the ring might only be efficacious on the one gender.)
We shared a sherry while I pondered how I could now escape as I had no magical way out of this trap, a trap I had most assuredly placed myself in. Mr. Bennett was quite content now that I had said I knew my duty and he went home. I had never thought of such a likelihood. I had supposed the ring was magic but it was not magical in that way. It did not protect me from the folly of my course. I had made the girl with child and the ring did not prevent it. I did not sleep that night.
The next day, it was the news of the county. Elizabeth and Meg met me coldly. Harriet was not allowed to visit. I knew things had changed and not for the best for poor Lord Northam.
I arranged for such ready cash as I had in the Manor and took the coward’s way out of this horrible situation. With bare essentials and a few clothes, I mounted my best steed and set forth to the coast. I arrived two days later and embarked with my horse on a small boat and crossed the channel for France. As the craft bobbed on the waves of the channel I looked back at England, home no more. I shed tears that morning, tears of loss and tears of regret. As England grew smaller and faded into the mists of the channel, France grew larger and more distinct. It would be long before I would see my home again.
It was in the middle of the eighteenth century of Our Lord’s Providence that I found myself in a strange country. I had learned some of the language, but had never spoken it with a native of that land. The language I had learned was the language of the learned. The peasants I encountered during my first days on the continent seemed to be speaking gibberish, so different was it from the bookish tongue I had essayed. But, as it should be, my exposure to the vernacular of the region quickly sharpened my ear and I began to be able to understand and converse with the French peasant.
So I made my way to Paris, the center of France, and perhaps the center of Europe in those days. The Louis’ ruled in a splendor unmatched since the times of the great Roman Emperors.
Paris hardly noticed the presence of a minor English Lord. I found quarters on the Ile de Cité not far from the famous Cathedral of Notre Dame. There was a fine patisserie on the ground floor operated by a widow, Madame Reynard, and her daughter, Lisette. I admit that Lisette, an attractive young woman of fifteen or sixteen, caught my fancy. They lived behind the shop. I took the second floor for my abode.
Once I had a permanent address, I immediately sent off a letter to England and arranged for funds to be available to me. I was amazed to find out that the money could be deposited in a bank in England and drawn upon through letters of credit in a bank in France. This seemed to me almost magical as the money never left England, or so I believed at the time.
With my finances secure, I set out to learn of France. I attended plays and the opera, the rage in Paris. I walked the Boulevards and let myself find the pace of the French, much more relaxed than the English. Walking the Boulevards I also found those women whose charms were available for small recompense. In short, I found all my wants satisfied.
You may wonder why I did not use the power of the ring to persuade these low women to do willingly what I had to pay to obtain. First, I remembered my Uncle’s warning to use its power wisely or it would turn against me. When I considered using it on these fallen women, I kept seeing my Uncle’s face in death. I took this omen seriously. Second, I obtained their willing service for coppers, nothing really. These women were so poor that they gave their virtue for the price of a loaf of bread and that might be the only food they obtained that day. The money meant nothing to me compared to the pleasure.
One afternoon, as I returned from a stroll, the shop was empty. Mme Reynard greeted me then questioned me. “Monsieur Northam?”
“Oui, Madame,” I replied, my French now passable.
“Why do you find it necessary to associate with such low women?” she asked.
I was flustered. I had no idea she even knew of my dalliances. “Um Madame…”
She smiled and waved away my pathetic attempts to speak. “Non, non. I am not concerned like that. I just wonder why you need to pay a sou when you are both comely and young. There are women, widows let us say, who would appreciate a chance to have some sport, some pleasure they are denied by their situation.”
She had a knowing smile and I understood what she was suggesting. “Well, Mme. Reynard. I am a country boy from England and never considered such a possibility. If there are such unfortunate women in Paris, I should surely seek to help them in such straits.”
Her smile broadened. “When Lisette returns, perhaps I could come up and see that you are finding everything to your satisfaction?”
“I am sure that with your presence, I shall find everything satisfactory,” I said. I bid her adieu and climbed to my rooms.
It was but a short while later that Mme. Reynard appeared at my door. I bid her enter. As soon as the door had closed she was in my arms. “M. Northam, you do know, a woman feels the same passions as a man.”
Truth be told, I did not know with certainty, but I had been discovering just how alike men and women were in pursuing such carnal delights and so was not surprised at her plea. Mme. Reynard’s remark confirmed and clarified my own observations, not yet systematized, on the likeness of men and women in pursuit of base delights.
She practically dragged me into my bedroom. Clothes were scattered. I had never yet met such a passionate or aggressive lover. Before, the woman had allowed me to lead. Mme. Reynard took control. As soon as our clothes were shed, she pushed me back onto the bed, knelt between my legs, and took my staff into her mouth in the French way. I admit that I found it puzzling at first, then I found it glorious until I could no longer contain my joy and spent directly into her willing mouth.
But Mme. Reynard was not satisfied. She continued to minister to my flagging staff, and in the fullness of youth, my staff responded, once again coming to full vigor. She mounted me, holding me erect and settling down, engulfing me in her womanly folds. My God, but she was hot and wet and I had done nothing but lie on the bed. I knew then, that I would be learning much from Mme. Reynard if I allowed myself much intercourse with her in the future.
Mme. Reynard rode me as a chevalier rides his stallion, posting vigorously, her small breasts bouncing, her head thrown back, my staff appearing and disappearing from view. I lay back and watched, as though I was at the opera, an audience to a performance. But it was not long before the exquisite pressure of her loins overcame my sated state and I found my desire waxing strong. The now familiar feeling of imminent spending filled my loins, battered by her, and as she reached her own pinnacle, I let loose and spent inside her. She fell forward, all her energies depleted.
Thus it was. Several times a week, Mme. Reynard would appear at my door and we would couple. She was a demanding lover but also an accommodating one. She taught me much about the pleasures of congress between woman and man. I learned how a man might best please a woman and how a woman can please a man. I began to understand all I had read in the French manual I had found in the manor.
This continued in easy companionability until one day. I had seen Lisette just before and she had captured my mind. When her mother appeared for our tryst, it was Lisette who still captivated me. While her mother was riding me, I was seeing Lisette behind my closed eyes. Unfortunately, her name slipped between my lips, a soft, “Lisette.”
I was drawn back to the moment by a hissing sound, “Non!” I opened my eyes to see a glaring Mme. Reynard. She was still mounted on me but she was still, my staff completely in her, but her hands on her hips as she stared at me. “M. Northam, you will not abuse my Lisette.”
“Mme. Reynard, I have no such intentions.”
She laughed, “I don’t care a whit about your intentions. I only am concerned with this.” She squeezed on my staff and I knew what she meant. “You may have a Christian conscience, but this staff,” she squeezed again, “has none. Lisette is at an impressionable age and she would be easy for you to use your position to convince her to surrender her virtue. Do not.”
“I really have no such…” I was going to protest my intentions again but searched for a different word, “Ideas,” I sputtered.
She laughed. “Ideas, intentions. It is your cock I don’t trust, Monsieur. Listen, I don’t care at all if Lisette has been with a hundred men before her marriage. But right now, I am attempting to arrange a marriage for her to an older man, a wealthy merchant. Like many young girls, she doesn’t want such a marriage. If you began to… dally, with her, she would be just that much more difficult to convince. Now, do you understand?”
“Oh, yes I do,” I said.
She laughed again. “After she is married, perhaps she will be more amenable to your charms. For now, Monsieur, if you feel the base desires, come find me.” And with that, she began to ride me again until we both crested the heights.
I must admit now that having had such converse with Mme. Reynard did not allay my desires for Lisette, but had the opposite effect as if Newton’s laws of action and reaction applied to love. I had even more desire to know her. She began to fill my thoughts night and day. I resisted them. But the ring burned my finger when I was around lovely young Lisette in its longing to be used.
I was saved from the transgression by an announcement. Lisette was betrothed to the merchant and the wedding was to be in three weeks. Mme. Reynard searched me out that night after a party celebrating the announcement and had at me hard, her own desires no doubt heightened by the coming nuptials of her daughter.
As we lay drained after our third bout of the night, Mme. Reynard’s head on my chest, her fingers idling over my now flaccid loins she said, “Thank you, M. Northam for allowing me to establish this fine match for Lisette.”
“Think nothing of it. Though, as an honest man, I must tell you I have thought much of my desire for Lisette. It has been a mighty struggle to contain my desires.”
She laughed. “Yes, but it is no longer hard,” she said holding my softness in her hand all used up as it was.
“Madame, you abuse me then you abuse me. Most unseemly,” I said in mock severity.
She laughed, “Well, Sir. Now that Lisette is indeed betrothed, it is possible she will seek some, um, guidance from an experienced man.”
“But her husband…” I said startled.
“Husbands have been fooled since Lilith. It is not so very difficult to be an innocent on your wedding night, even when you have sought ‘guidance’ from another,” she said slyly.
I was quiet thinking about Lisette. Was I scoundrel enough to bed another man’s intended right before their nuptials? I must admit, the thought brought renewed desire to me. Mme. Reynard laughed as my staff showed a propensity to renewal of vigor. But she did not seek to dissuade me in my thoughts.
Several nights later, after the shop was closed, I heard a soft tapping on my door. I opened it, surprised to find Lisette. “Yes?”
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Of course.” I held the door for her.
She was anxious, her hands flitting about, her stance like a hare about to flee before the fox. I nodded. “M. Northam, since you have been here Mama had forbid me to even approach you. Now that I am betrothed, she doesn’t seem to care. I am not sure why? But still, I found myself drawn here.”
“Lisette, I wish to show you what a man and woman should know. Do you wish me to show you?” I asked.
She nodded, looking even more anxious.
I stepped over to her and, smiling, took her into my arms. She looked up and I bent down our lips meeting. We kissed. Gradually, Lisette melted into my arms. This is what she desired, even though she would not say so. She wanted a young virile man to possess her lovely body before she surrendered it to an old man who would become her husband. She wanted to know passion in its fullness, knowing that her marriage bed would lack such passion. It might eventually have respect, maybe even love, but it would never have that youthful passion that all women wish to experience at least once in their lives.
I kissed Lisette’s neck softly, nibbling, sucking and licking. She shuddered in my arms. I kissed her sweet lips, tasting slightly of the sugary almond paste used in the rolls that were her favorite. My hands began to roam as we kissed, finding her soft young breasts and her hard nipples. Lisette pressed against my hands as they molded her breasts to fit two hands. Her kissing became passionate.
Clothes were strewn about as we both undressed hurriedly. Once naked, we stood like statues of Greek gods, both staring at the other. Lisette, eyeing her first naked man; me, staring at her youthful beauty.
The spell was broken as I moved and took her into my arms, body against body. The sweet touch of her skin against mine. We kissed ardently as I laid her on my bed. I would show her the French way, as was only appropriate.
My head went lower, always kissing and nipping at her soft skin until it beheld her sex, closed tight but already redolent with her arousal. My fingers opened the clam of her sex to greet the red interior. I lashed her in the French way, with lips and tongue, sucking, licking as Lisette moaned and writhed in pleasure. Having some experience now with virgins, I examined her as I teased her, running my tongue around her sex. Her opening was wide and with a small bit of skin surrounding it. I knew it would be easy for Lisette as long as I had her properly prepared for her initiation into the arts of Eros.
A I continued my ministrations to her sex, Lisette was lost in the pure sensations of the God of Love. I rose above her, aligned man with woman and entered her chamber. She squawked a bit as I entered, and moaned as my shaft filled her. “Yes, my Love,” she cried out as I pulled back and plunged fully into her.
Again and again I plunged into Lisette, and she accepted my charges, moaning and thrashing below me, crying out in French which I did not understand in the charged atmosphere or our passion.
It could not last long, this rising passion between us, and it did not. My climax rose until it could not be restrained and I poured my seed into the girl, bellowing as an animal as I did. The hot seed pouring into the girl set off her own desperate passion as her hips pumped into me from below and her chamber pulsed, drawing my seed towards her own center. Then it was done and we both collapsed together, spent of all except the lingering happiness and satiation.
I had answered the question as to whether or not I was a scoundrel. I was truly becoming French.
I was with Mlle. Reynard several times over the next three weeks leading up to her marriage. Since Lisette's father had been taken when she was young, Mme. Reynard asked me to stand up for her daughter. I gave Lisette to her new husband, not without some feelings of regret at losing this little peach now that I had plucked her. It was a strange day, since she had spent the entire night before in my room.
She looked appropriately virginal on her wedding day and I gather her mother had given her instructions for her wedding night since her new husband made no complaint against her virtue. Lisette took her vows seriously and I never had congress with her except under the most appropriate of circumstances. It was as if her life before marriage ceased to be after her marriage. She was a virtuous woman.
In all, I found my wants well satisfied by the women of the house and the occasional fallen woman my lusts would bring me to try.
Copyright Rod O'Steele © 2007, 2011