Victim/Victorian

Chapter 5: Plots and Plans

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 rôle, 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 heis 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 anu 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 would 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 Part 5


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