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  • Bellway Ch. 05: Misery

Bellway Ch. 05: Misery

Author's Note: All characters are adults, which in this context means they are at least twenty-one years of age.

*****

Dearest Emily,

I could scarce look at Father over breakfast. The enflamement - is that a word? - of my cheeks he mistook as embarrassment over the iron corset, which Lady Grey insisted I show him. "I trust to your wisdom in such a matter," he said to her, though I detected a wicked amusement in his eyes as I glowered most furiously at him.

Bellway is a house of sin indeed! Where proper young women are made into harlots to serve the lustful whims of men. Forgive me my woeful rambling, but I am weary for lack of sleep and too much worrying over my immortal soul - should I repent and cast myself into seclusion? Or should I embrace this hedonism until the devil himself comes for me?

Could there be a worse fate than to be locked in corsetry for all eternity, a witness to the pleasure of others? A servant even, knowing that it is my own willing participation that prolongs the torment? Like Sisyphus, but forever striving to reach the precipice and the fall into ecstasy, only to be denied by capricious gods.

Do not pity me, Emily. I deserve it not. Charlotte's gift of pleasure last night was but a momentary release, and my body's restless craving is again distracting my thoughts into desire for fresh adventure. I am like a tiger who once having tasted the flesh of man will forever hunger for more.

[Afternoon]

You will be relieved, I'm sure, to learn that my spirits have improved, helped in part by a return to bed and a few hours of solid sleep. It was past two when I woke at last, Bellway quiet as it usually is in the early afternoons. I was alone - Charlotte being, I presume, in Sir Thomas's study - and too restless to stay by myself.

I took a turn about the gardens. The day was warm and almost with cloud, and the sunlight brought out the glorious colours of the roses. I sat awhile and read, but my thoughts were too distracted, playing over in my mind the events of yesterday and that dreadful revelation. But my mood was not so dark as it was this morning. What was done, after all, was done in ignorance.

My wanderings took me to the stable, where I thought only to visit the horses. The coachman was there, the same that had brought Charlotte and me to Bellway. It seems he lives here, and had been sent by Lady Grey to bring us. He is a handsome fellow and good with the horses.

"Good afternoon," I said in greeting.

"Afternoon, Miss Susan." His words were polite and formal, but I sensed that he was remembering, as indeed was I, the incident in the woods.

"You have me at a disadvantage," I said.

"It's George, Miss."

"Pleased to meet you, George," I said, with a slight curtsey.

He blushed quite charmingly. "I trust you are well, Miss Susan?"

"I am," I said. "I want to thank you again for saying nothing. I think I would die if the truth were known."

"It's nothing," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

It was that moment of shyness that decided it for me. I could have walked away, as a proper lady would have, as perhaps also a harlot seeking redemption might have, but instead I took a step closer to him. "I'd like to thank you properly," I said.

George looked up at me in confusion as I took another step closer, close enough to take his hand and press it against my chest. "They have bound me in iron," I said, enjoying the look of amazement on his face. "But I am flesh and blood within."

His hands caressed me, discovering the extent of the concealed corset. I was not slow to observe the effect of it either. I led George over to a stool that set me at the perfect height for what I had in mind, and he seemed almost in a daze as I tugged down his breeches to reveal a very eager and well proportioned cock. Positioned thus, I felt almost like a milking maid, but of course this was no udder.

I took my time with him, knowing now what to expect and having no other to demand my attention. How strange and wonderful it is that a man's cock fits so well in a woman's mouth - and a man's too, I suppose. It is almost as if God intended this for us. Perhaps in the beginning, before the serpent suggested they do otherwise, Eve knelt daily before Adam, and he in turn likewise.

There is beauty in a man's cock. Not of course when it is flaccid, for then it is a wrinkled old man and quite repugnant, but standing proud it is magnificent, a vigorous weapon. I was sorely tempted to undo my buckles, but even now my fear of Lady Grey's wrath stays my hand. Instead I worshipped that hard length with my tongue and lips, kissing my way along the shaft, sucking hungrily at the bulbous head, taking as much into my mouth as I could.

George looked down at me with an astonishment that swiftly changed to desire, and it was with some effort that I kept him at bay. Indeed, so determined was he to thrust deeper into my mouth, that he succeeded in breaching my throat. The first time he did this, it induced such a fit of coughing that he apologised profusely and almost ran in search of a doctor - perish the thought! - but with patience and determination I developed a method of accommodating him.

Dearest Emily, you will no doubt laugh at me for taking pride in such an accomplishment, but had you been there you would have marvelled that such a stallion length should be consumed in its entirety. With him embedded thus, I was unable even to breathe, and he held me tight against him as he finished, his cock constricted by my throat as it pulsed and spat its seed deep into my belly - and for so long I thought I might die for lack of air!

And then he was free of me and I sat there gasping for breath, yet also flushed with victory. George regarded me with awe as I took his drooping cock in my mouth again, for there was a little yet left of that creamy essence, and I licked him lovingly clean. "Thank you, George," I said with a cheeky grin.

He shook his head, returning my grin. "No, Miss Susan. Thank you!"

It was without question a very satisfactory encounter, and one I hope to repeat.

[Night]

Not that it alleviated in any useful way the tension that was building in me once again. By the time Charlotte finally returned to our room, I had resorted to sitting on my hands to keep them from my buckles. The cruelest thing about this chastity device is the ease with which it can be removed.

Charlotte laughed at the sight of me. "Please," I whimpered, not daring to ask outright.

She shook her head. "I will consider it," she said carefully, "but only if you do everything I ask of you."

See, Emily! Charlotte has learned too well the ways of this house. She is my friend, my companion, even my chaperone - what comedy! - but she has made me now a slave to her pleasure. What hope is there for me now?

"Yes, Charlotte," I said, utterly miserable in that moment.

"And you can start by returning the favour from last night. I want to see just how skilled your lips are..."

I perked up immediately - am I not like a butterfly, dear sister, my spirits all aflutter? - and followed her to her bed, eagerly descending to adore those nectared lip as she lifted her skirts away. I am not of your persuasion, dear sister. My heart does not beat wildly at the sight of a pretty girl or an elegant woman. But I do love the smell of a woman's intimate region, so raw and rich I could drown in it.

Just as I had worshipped George's magnificent cock, so too I gorged on Charlotte's divinity, drinking her lustral water as my tongue explored and teased her mercilessly. Just as no two men are alike, so are all women different. This was the first time I have seen clearly a woman's intimate region. Charlotte's was very red, as if bruised from too much use.

"Pull my tail," she murmured. "Gently." I did and she squirmed in response, moaning ecstatically. "Oh yes, like that. Put your fingers in me."

Again I obliged her, and for a while I was tugging on her tail, thrusting my fingers in and out of her, and licking and sucking on her nubbin of pleasure, enjoying her increasingly desperate writhing beneath my mouth. Soon I had three fingers in her, and then four, and on a whim I slipped my whole hand into her until it was buried to the wrist.

Such a wail of pleasure she gave as she crested, and my hand was imprisoned within her as she convulsed blissfully. Have you, sweet Emily, ever done this to a woman? Is this what Miss Caroline is thinking of when she asks after you?

No sooner had my hand eased from that sweetness than the bell rang for dinner. I had to endure hours of Lady Grey's polite yet mostly tedious company before Charlotte and I could be alone again. "Please!" I begged her, hoping to feel again at last her lips between my thighs.

We were both quickly undressed, and I'm sure you can imagine my happiness when that buckle was undone, exposing the evidence of my aching need to her - but Charlotte had a different intent. She turned her back to me and buckled herself into a strange harness of some kind - and when she turned to face me again, an ivory cock projected from her!

I gaped in astonishment as she walked over to me, that pale cock swinging before her. "Suck it," she growled, pulling my head down to it. I didn't resist, though there was little enjoyment in it. It was smoother than wood, at least, but nothing like a man's cock.

What pleasure she can have derived from wearing it I hardly know, but she was determined to use it on me. First she ordered me on all fours and guided it in from behind, not unlike the masked thief who robbed me of my virginity but far less passionate. I enjoyed the feel of the ivory's thrusting, but it didn't excite me.

We changed position, lying face to face with Charlotte on top, her bare breasts pressed against my iron-clad chest and her golden tresses falling about my face, and she startled me with a long kiss as her unfeeling cock penetrated me once more and resumed its assault. Again it was pleasant but left me unfulfilled, and when she eased out without warning and fastened that most hated buckle, I was almost in tears.

She is asleep now, having deprived me of any hope of doing the same. Now that I have run out of words, I pray that exhaustion at least will end this suffering...

Your most demented sister,

S.

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