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From: Vinnie Tesla <vinnie@vinnietesla.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Victim/Victorian [5/8] {Vinnie Tesla} (Mf, oral, hist, humor)
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Date: Tue, 28 Jun 2011 09:10:03 -0400
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Victim/Victorian
Chapter 5: Plots and Plans
by Vinnie Tesla


Corky looked about wildly. Trunks and bags were piled on the bed and
the floor. The wardrobe and dresser were open and empty. The knock
came again--a light and hesitant rapping.

"William?" called a timorous voice outside.

He cracked the door open and peered through. "Beatrice!"

"You're-- you're home early."

"Er, yes," he admitted. They gazed at each other through the narrow
opening for a moment.

"There was such a racket," Beatrice said at last.  "Is everything all
right."

"Yes, yes." Making a sudden decision, he opened the door and pulled
her in, shutting it behind her.

She looked about for a moment in consternation. "Oh my! Are you...are
you leaving?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes. I, I, I am. At once!"

"But am I-- are we never to see you again?"

"Dash it, Beatrice, I, I, I... Here, sit with me a moment?" He seated
himself on the bed, and clasped her hands in his. "Don't you see?
This is my chance! "

"Your chance?"

"To escape."

Her face fell. Impulsively, he declared: "But I'll come back for you.
Er...if you like."

"Oh, William," she sniffled, "hold me!"

Corky took the trembling girl in his arms and she buried her face in
his chest, her shoulders racked with sobs. At the contact of her warm
and slender body, his libidinous feelings, so recently excited by the
exchange he had overheard in the corridor, began to return with
renewed vigor.

Unschooled in the handling of such outbursts, he patted tentatively
at her dark tresses. "There, there. There, there.  You mustn't, er--
Oh dear."

At his attempt at comfort, she had squeezed him tightly, and only
cried the louder.

"Now, Beatrice," he ventured once more, "you really mustn't--"

She looked up at him, her face flushed and tear-streaked. her full
lips slightly parted, her dark eyes wide and shining.

"Oh, you are so lovely," he said impulsively. Their lips met in a
long, melting kiss.

When they parted, his heart was hammering, and he gasped for breath.

"Oh, William! " she sighed, and covered his face in a flurry of
little kisses, her warm, fragrant breath caressing his skin. They
fell together onto the bed, their arms twined about each other, their
lips meeting in numberless ardent kisses.

Beatrice tugged Corky atop her and he rolled onto her, thrilling to
the sensation of her slender body beneath him.

Her little hands gripped his waistcoat at the base, and moments later
she was untucking his shirt from his trousers, and running her hands
over the heated skin of his stomach.

As he pushed himself up on his hands and looked down at her, her
nimble fingers danced over the skin of his torso, finally reaching
his tiny nipples, which she stroked lightly, eliciting a wave of
unfamiliar melting sensation in Corky.

He drew back in some alarm. "Beatrice, dear," he insisted, "this
isn't right. I know that your mother may have, have, have taught you
differently, but in matters of, of, of tender feelings between a man
and a woman, it is the man who must take the initiative."

Beatrice withdrew her hands, and, sitting up, folded them in her lap.
"Very well, William," she said. "Proceed."

"P-proceed?"

"Yes. Take the initiative. Do your will with me, I shall not resist."

"My...will?" Corky said, with trepidation.

"Yes. Whatever you like."

"Oh."

There was a long and expectant silence. At length, Corky asked, "Do
you have...any suggestions?"

Beatrice smiled warmly. "Well, I am given to understand that some
gentlemen enjoy touching the bosoms of ladies of whom they are fond."

"Capital!" Corky exclaimed. "Just the thing." He reached toward
Beatrice hesitantly. "Er... how do I er, gain, er, er, access?"

She reached behind her neck and unfastened a clasp there, then drew
her amrs from the sleeves of her gown so that it fell about her
waist, her dark eyes never leaving his.

He reached out and, with  trembling hands, pulled the fabric of her
chemise off her shoulders, revealing  the faint swell of her bosom
capped by her dark little nipples,

"Lovely," he gasped.

"You don't think they're too small?" she asked plaintively.

"Not at all!" His hands reached out and cupped the soft flesh, her
tight little nipples erect against his palms.

"Oh," Beatrice murmured at the contact.

Guided by primeval instinct, and by his paramour's recent example,
his fingertips stroked the puckered little buds.

Beatrice groaned, and heedless of her recent resolve to undertake a
more passive role, seized Corky's head and covered his face with
kisses. Once more, they rolled together on his bed, gripping each
other tightly.

Beatrice pressed gently down on Corky's shoulders, and he lowered his
mouth, nuzzling at her soft neck, and then at the delicate skin
covering her collarbones.  At last he found his way to her erect
nipples. With gentle words of guidance and encouragement she urged
him to lick and suck at her tender flesh. She raised her pale slender
arms above her head and arched her back, and his mouth found its way
to the little soft tufts of dark hair beneath her arms, where he
nuzzled at her tender, spice-scented flesh, causing her to twist and
groan.

After a time, Corky raised his head and once more gazed at Beatrice's
prettily flushed face "What shall I do next?" he asked.

Panting slightly, she took one of his hands, and wrapped about her
wrist. "A forceful and impetuous lover," she said, "might guide his
sweetheart's touch to the point of his most ardent desire."

At once, Corky brought her palm to his chest, where she could feel
the rapid rhythm of his heart through his waistcoat. Beatrice
laughed, then averted her eyes shyly. "Oh, William, is'n't there
somewhere where my touch might satisfy your longing more
immediately?"

As Corky realized the meaning of her delicately-worded suggestion, he
found that their conjoined hands were moving slowly toward the
distended front of his trousers, though under whose power he could
not tell.

They paused for a moment, suspended a bare inch from his aching
genitals, before he pressed her hand to himself there, groaning at
the exquisite pressure. He watched, trembling, as she deftly
unfastened his trouser buttons and drew forth his anxious member,
head slick with anticipatory fluid.

She took it in her hand, and it swelled still further at her touch.
"It's so hot," she murmured in his ear, voice trembling with emotion,
"so smooth. I'm longing to have your lovely thing in my mouth,
William darling. Tell me to suck on it, I pray you."

"Oh, Beatrice!" cried Corky, "will you kiss my, my, my--"

But before he could select a suitable noun, she was kneeling beside
the bed, her hands urging is hips forward to grant her access. She
took the head of his prick between her full  lips, and he groaned at
the melting sensation, reaching forward to grasp her slender bare
shoulders in his hands.

Unbalanced by the motion, his  steamer trunk slid off of the bed and
struck the floor with an enormous crash, springing open and strewing
its contents about the room.

They leapt up guiltily and listened for any approaching footsteps.
After a moment, a rapid tread on the stairwell could be heard.
Beatrice leapt up and, casting about for a hiding-place, dashed to
the fortuitously empty wardrobe and stepped inside.

As the footsteps grew louder, Corky did what little he could to
straighten his garments and order his disarrayed hair.

True to form. Maggie flung open the door without knocking. "Mr.
Brandywine," she trilled, "have you seen Beatrice? Mother's looking
for her."

"B-Beatrice? I, er--"

"Yes, spindly dark-haired creature, moony stare, no bosom to speak
of. Have you seen her?"

"I, er, I do'n't--"

"And why on earth is all your luggage strewn about? Surely you're not
going on holiday so early in the term?"

"I er, er, er, I wanted to.... to make certain I had'n't lost any of
it."

"How simply fascinating," Maggie said distractedly. "And Beatrice?"

"What--what of her?"

"Have. You. Seen. Her?" she asked slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Er-- Ah--" He searched desperately for the perfect lie. Eventually
he hit on it: "No. No, I haven't."

"Hmm. Curious. I wonder where she could be." And she turned about
and strode out of the room.

There was a moment's silence. Eventually, the wardrobe creaked open
and Beatrice tiptoed out, pulling the sleeves of her dress back on.
"I'd best see what Mother wants," she said worriedly.

She cracked the door open and peered into the hallway. Then she
slipped out and the door shut behind her.  Corky surveyed the room,
blowing out air between his teeth.  He lifted the upended trunk off
of the floor, and began halfheartedly to repack it.

The door opened once more, and Maggie stepped inside grinning. In an
uncharacteristically hushed voice she inquired, "Is she gone yet."

Corky started. " What-- who-- what do you mean?"

Her grin widened further. "Beatrice was'n't in here?"

"Why, certainly not!"

"Well, *something* seems to have you terribly randy.  I'm surprised
that horn of yours has'n't burst quite through your trousers."

Without thinking, Corky glanced down. His erection was quite
noticeable.

"You haven't been tossing yourself off, have you?" Maggie asked in a
chiding tone. "I'm sure you're aware of the harm to physical health
and moral fibre that self-abuse exacts. "

"Why, I certainly-- Eep!"

Maggie had pressed her soft little hand against Corky's rampant pego,
and was firmly rubbing it up and down.

Corky took a deep breath. "Miss Dalrymple, I wouldn't like to, to, to
have to discipline you again so soon after your, your, your previous
correction, but if you persist in these, these, these *indecent*...."
he trailed off as thrills of sensation coursed down his spine.

"You wouldn't?" she pouted, unfastening his trouser buttons. "Mr.
Brandywine, how ungentlemanly." She took his throbbing prick in her
cool little hand and began to slide her fingers along its length. "Is
that because you find the sight of my bare bottom so unappealing, or
do you consider me so incorrigible that further punishment is
futile?"

Corky only groaned in reply.

"Did you find the sight of me with my skirts about my waist, my
drawers parted to reveal the delicate skin of my posterior so dull
that a single viewing was sufficient?  Did I not gasp and wriggle
prettily enough? Did my desperate kicks not afford enough glimpses of
the mossy cleft between my limbs? If you will only tell me your
complaints, I shall endeavor to do better next time."

Corky groaned once more, his hips bucking against her rapidly moving
hand. "Oh, Maggie, stop, or I shall--"
She withdrew from his purple tool. "You shall what?" she asked
ingenuously?

"You stopped!" he said miserably, his neglected member bobbing
between them.

"You told me to," she reminded him.

"But, but, but I didn't expect-- Oh, dear."

"Have you changed your mind? Would you like me to make you spend?"

After a fierce but brief internal battle, he surrendered. "Yes," he
admitted.

"First, you must do something for me," she told him, seating herself
on the bed, and beginning to draw her skirts up. "I did it for you
yesterday, and you did it for Mother the day before, though you
had'n't much choice at the time."  Between her stockings and her
stays lay an expanse of luscious pink thigh terminating in the plump
mound he had seen the day before.

"Look closely at my cunny, William," she said, parting her legs so
that the coral tints of her labia were revealed. "Is'n't it pretty?"

"Yes," he breathed, eyes wide.

She giggled. "Look *closer*."

He fell to his knees and scrutinized her plump female parts, shining
from her own excitement and her sister's recent ministrations. "It's
beautiful," he admitted.

"Does it have an aroma?"

He leaned in further and inhaled. "It's a warm smell. Sharp and spicy
and musky all at once."

"Kiss it."

Head whirling, Corky brought his lips to Maggie's nether parts,
feeling the crinkly soft hair of her motte, and the wild heat of her
excited interior. With two fingers, Maggie spread the lips of her
cunt, revealing an expanse of smooth slick pink flesh. "The bump here
at the top. Lick there."

Corky lapped tentatively, then with greater enthusiasm as the flavor
overwhelmend his brain.

"Yes," hissed Maggie, undulating her hips against Corky's busy
tongue. She gripped his hair and pressed her face against her slick
cunny, working his head up and down her female parts as if he were a
human godemiche.

Her soft legs wrapped around his neck, as she pulled him against
herself. Murmured orders ("higher," "faster," "bite a little-not too
much") gave way to moans and stifled yelps. Finally, with a drawn-out
groan, her body tensed, her legs tightening painfully about Corky's
head, before she fell back, gasping for breath.

After a few seconds, she sat up again, her cheeks still charmingly
flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Brandywine," she said politely. "That was
quite lovely."

Corky worked his tired jaw side-to-side for a moment and stood, his
erect prick still emerging from his opened trousers. There was a
moment of silence. Corky wiped his damp chin with one hand.

"And now you'll.see to me?" he asked. "As you said."

"*See* to you," Maggie asked archly, "Why, whatever do you mean, Mr.
Brandywine?"

A faint note of panic entered Corky's voice. "You, you, you said that
if I did.what I did for, for you. You'd."

"I'd?"

"You'd. See to me." Corky was fighting the urge to fasten his trousers
back up. He felt terribly conspicuous this way, but had not yet lost
hope of recalling to Maggie's mind the course of action she had
originally proposed.

Seeing the desperate look on Corky's face, Maggie appeared to take
pity on him. "I shall, William. But first you must tell me what you
want."

"I--" he took a deep breath. "I want you to rub my prick. Until I
spend."

"Why Mr., Brandywine, how very forward of you! I should be
delighted." She took his sensitive prick in her hand and began
stroking it once more, her eyes watching his face eagerly.

Corky shuddered. "I do'n't think I shall last very long.

"Well we certainly can't have you have you spending on Mother's
heirloom coverlet," Maggie said, and she leaned forward and took the
moist purple tip of Corky's prick in her hot little mouth. In an
instant he was groaning as red lights flickered behind his eyelids
and a series of pulses sent hot fluid jetting into his fellatrix's
mouth.

Somehow he managed to remain standing as Maggie made a happy little
noise around his prick, then swallowed noisily and stood, smoothing
her skirts down. "It's been an extremely diverting conversation, Mr.
Brandywine, and I hope we shall have many more like it in the
future," she said, curtseying slightly.

His mind cleared of the desperate need to spend, Corky was seized by
fear and remorse. "Maggie," he pleaded, "you mustn't let Beatrice
know that this occurred."

Maggie smiled merrily. "Oh, I shouldn't think of it! She's a
dreadfully selfish creature, and I do believe she wants you entirely
to herself. I'm sure she would be quite cross with me if she learned
that I intend otherwise. Now, do fasten your trousers up--I'm about
to open the door."

A moment later, she did so, and sprang back from the doorway with a
yelp of surprise. There in the hallway stood Beatrice, arms crossed,
with a look of cold fury on her face.

"Dear sister, I would like a few words with you in private, please,"
she said, and gripped Maggie's ear fiercely between thumb and
forefinger. "Mr. Brandywine, I will speak with *you* later."

Over Maggie's protesting yelps, Beatrice dragged her out of Corky's
room and down the corridor.

END Chapter 5


Feedback is always eagerly solicited.
vinnie@vinnietesla.com | http://vinnietesla.com | @vinnietesla
prequel "The Erotofluidic Age" now for sale: http://www.circlet.com/?p=2880

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