Indecent: 15 Erotic Victorian Romance Story Box Set (23 page)

She watched as Amelia walked over to the horse, straddling
it but unable to sit properly due to the protruberance sticking garishly
upwards. It rubbed between her legs through the cloth, making her throb as she
rocked back and forth. Finally she could resist no longer. Tugging the cloth to
one side she lifted herself enough to be above the length of smooth varnished
wood, nudging it towards her hole. It was just sliding into her when Miss
Fisher strode over. “One minute’s over. Bedtime.”

“Oh but…”

“You should have been quicker shouldn’t you?” Miss Fletcher
said, lifting her into the cot whilst calling her a good girl before kissing
her forehead and blowing out the candle, leaving her locked in darkness. To
Amelia it felt odd being naked except for a piece of cloth but as she closed
her eyes and thought of the firmness of Mr Jenkins whilst sat in his lap, a
smile flickered across her lips. Six more days to go, she thought, her clit
continuing to ache as she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 5

The next few days passed in much the same way although the
rocking horse was nowhere to be seen. They moved on in the classroom from the
alphabet to basic sentences, intermittently paused for spanking if Amelia spoke
out of turn or misspelled any words. Mr Jenkins didn’t invite her onto his lap
and she wondered if he was worried about keeping control over his arousal.
Finally on the morning of day five she was told she had earned the chance to
wear her knickers again if she could demonstrate enough self control during the
first lesson of the day.

“You’re a fast learner,” Mr Jenkins said as he observed his
student sitting bolt upright in her chair, eager to begin. “I think you should
be able to control yourself but we will see won’t we?”

He rang the bell and Miss Fisher was by his side a minute
later. “You must submit to an examination first,” he said, loosening his
jacket. “We will check you are ready to enter the world of adults again and I
very much hope you will not disappoint us. Please stand.”

Amelia did so and waited nervously, having no idea what was
about to happen. “Undress her please Miss Fisher,” Mr Jenkins said, leaning
back against the top table.

“I have not been undressed before a gentleman before,”
Amelia blurted out as he raised his eyebrows at her impertinence. “I do not
think it would be proper.”

“It must be done,” he replied as Miss Fisher loosened her
tie before moving to the buttons of her shirt, ignoring her muttered protest.
As her breasts came into view, she flushed with a mixture of shame and
excitement, watching Mr Jenkins face closely. He was clearly interested in her
and yet he maintained the appearance of indifference. The slight shuffling of
his feet suggested more than he said and as her skirt slid down she saw a bulge
begin to appear in his trousers.

“You have a maturing body,” he observed. “I believe you will
soon be a lady much desired in the world if only you can control that temper of
yours. Please stand still and do not protest for it would be tiresome to have
to begin your lessons from scratch.”

Approaching her he ran his hands down her arms. “Good skin,”
he said. “Well kept fingernails. Excellent. Your breasts?” He cupped his hands
under her left boob and hefted it upwards. “Heavy, firm, excellent.” Tracing
his finger in a circle around the nipple he frowned. “Arousal is evident, “he
muttered. “Take note Miss Fisher.”

“Yes Mr Jenkins.”

He did the same to her right breasts before pressing into
her stomach. “No sign of over indulgence, now let’s check those legs shall we?”
He squeezed the individual muscles of her calves, moving up shortly afterwards
to her thighs. “Has anyone ever touched you higher than this?” he remarked,
glancing up at her.

“No sir.”

“Well if you are to be a good wife, you must know how it
feels or else your husband may arouse fear in you instead of a more desirous
emotion. Tell me how this feels?” With those words he brushed the edge of his
hand across her pussy. Amelia shuddered and let out a gasp. “Well come on? How
did that feel?”

“I don’t rightly know sir. Good, I think although I also
feel tense.”

“Perfectly natural. I can detect a hint of wetness and your
lips have become engorged. This is all as it should be. Miss Fisher would you
mind lying her on my table?”

“Of course Mr Jenkins.”

Amelia was led to the top table and helped onto it, lying on
her back with her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Legs apart please,” said Mr Jenkins and Amelia obeyed,
feeling two pairs of eyes staring between her legs. A moment later the hand was
on her pussy again, this time the fingers lightly stroking along the length of
her. “Have you ever entered yourself?”

“No sir.”

“You should. It is the best way to learn how your body
works. Observe.” He pressed the tip of his index finger to her sopping hole,
sliding easily into her tightness as she let out a long low moan of
satisfaction. “Move this way to ensure the best results,” he added, starting to
slide his finger back and forth inside her. After a minute of this he lowered
his head to her clit and stuck out his tongue, giving her a slow lick across
the hardened nub in a way which sent jolts of sheer pleasure through her body.

“Oh my,” she muttered. “Oh my goodness.”

Mr Jenkins continued to lick her as his finger slid out
before pulling her knees so she slid along the table. Her pussy was now at the
edge and Mr Jenkins smiled up at her whilst undoing his trousers, lowering them
below his shaft which pointed upwards as it came into view. It was the first
cock Amelia had ever seen and at the sight of it an intense desire for it
passed through her. She had to have him inside her no matter what. “Fuck me,”
she muttered, biting her lip as she realised what she’d just said. She winced
as she expected to be punished for such language but Mr Jenkins merely smiled
again.

“Self control remember. Always self control.” He seemed
amused rather than angry though and As Amelia pushed her hips towards him, he
took his cock in his hand and began to stroke it gently. “I presume nothing
like this has ever been inside you?”

“No sir.”

“That is good to hear. My students do best when I am their
first for the nerves of impressing a potential partner are not an issue. Spread
her lips please Miss Fisher.”

“Yes Mr Jenkins.”

His colleague moved to Amelia’s side, reaching over to pull
her pussy lips apart. Mr Jenkins stared down at her as he approached, moving
his cock so the tip brushed over he wetness before easing himself into her.
Amelia let out a gasp of pain before the feeling that overwhelmed her became
one of intense joy. Mr Jenkins moved incredibly slowly, taking his time until
he was finally all the way inside her, filling her to capacity as her eyes
widened with arousal, her hands moving to stroke her clit of their own accord.

He rocked back and forth gently, gradually increasing his
speed until he was ramming himself into her, no longer giving instruction, lost
to the moment.

“Fuck me,” Amelia said again and he did not reply. “Fuck me,
fuck me, fuck me,” she repeated, her voice growing louder with each repetition.
Feeling her body begin to tense up, she moved her fingers faster on her clit, a
warmth spreading through her. “What’s happening?” she gasped.

“You are about to climax as am I. Enjoy it.”

He slammed home a final time, his cock jerked deep in her as
she felt a shooting wetness fire from the end and pour into her. The sensation
tipped her over the edge and she came, reaching a screaming orgasm that sent
her entire body into paroxysms of bliss. She could see nothing but stars, feel
nothing but pleasure as all the while the cock inside her pulsed and thrust back
and forth, slowly withdrawing until he was out of her.

Slowly she was helped to her feet, her hands shaking and her
legs like jelly. “An excellent lesson,” Mr Jenkins smiled. “I believe you are
ready to wear knickers once more.”

Over the remaining days of her time with Mr Jenkins he did
not fuck her again, informing her that she must learn self control, always self
control. On the final morning she awoke to find her dress waiting on the end of
her bed. Stepping into it she breathed a sad farewell to the uniform she’d come
to love, climbing into the coach with her shoulders slumped as Miss Fisher told
her that Mr Jenkins had left the previous night on business.

The journey home seemed to take an age, made all the worse
by her memories of Mr Jenkins, almost weeping at the thought she would never
see him again. Arriving at last back home she bid farewell to the coach driver
before entering the house and calling out to her parents.

“In here,” Lord Carrington called from the drawing room. She
entered to find her parents sat beside each other on a couch, the back of a
stranger in an armchair before them. “Come in and sit down,” said Lady
Carrington.”

“Yes mother,” she curtseyed, moving around to the fireplace,
gasping as she saw who it was in the occupied chair. Mr Jenkins smiled up at
her.

“We hear you excelled in your studies,” Lord Carrington
said, shaking her firmly by the hand. “Well done my girl.”

“Thank you father,” she replied, her heart pounding in her
chest as she looked at her tutor, her gaze met by those dark eyes of his.

“Look at her, a changed girl,” he continued. “We have you to
thank for this,” he said to Mr Jenkins. “Name your price for the work you’ve
done and it will be nowhere near enough.”

“I do not ask for money,” he replied.

“Jewels then, land, a property in London perhaps?”

“None of those,” he shook his head.

“What then? What on earth do you desire as payment?”

Amelia held her breath, waiting to hear what he said.

“I wish for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Amelia’s heart soared, a beaming grin spreading across her
face as she forced herself to resist leaping into Mr Jenkin’s arms.

“What say you my dear?” Lord Carrington turned to his wife.

“A capital match say I. A thousand times yes.”

“Oh father!” Amelia cried. “Mother!”

Mr Jenkins waved a hand in her direction and she was
instantly silent.

“We agree wholeheartedly,” said Lord Carrington.

“Excellent,” replied Mr Jenkins. “And as to you Amelia, be
warned, your education is only just beginning.”

Olivia Twist

Chapter 1

Amongst other buildings in a town
which it would be better not to mention, there is one common to most towns, to
wit, a whorehouse beside a workhouse. In this whorehouse lived the item of
mortality whose name is affixed to the title of this tale.

The child was born in the workhouse and there was some doubt
as to whether the infant would survive to bear any name at all. Being born in
the workhouse was the best possible circumstance for Olivia Twist, there being
some difficulty inducing Olivia to breathe, a troublesome practice but one
which is necessary to our continued existence. For some time she lay gasping on
a mattress poised between this world and the next, the balance in favour of the
latter. Now if during this time Olivia had been surrounded by experienced
persons she would no doubt have been killed in no time. There being nobody but
an old pauper woman and a parish surgeon, Olivia and nature fought out the
point and after a few struggles, Olivia breathed, sneezed and proceeded to bawl
as loud as could be expected from a female infant alive for less than three
minutes.

As Olivia gave proof of the action of her lungs, the covers
on the bedstead rustled and a pale woman faintly said, “Let me see the child
and die.”

The surgeon had been warming his hands by the fire and as
the woman spoke he turned to her: “Oh, you must not talking of dying.” He
handed her the infant and nodded for the pauper woman to join him outside the
room. In the hall they noticed a door open opposite. “Do you wish?” the surgeon
asked.

“I do,” replied the old woman.

He stepped aside and followed the pauper woman into the
space used for little other than odds and ends of the workhouse life. In a
moment he was upon her, lifting her shawl and tossing it aside before removing
what layers of clothing the parish had provided the funding for. Once
unencumbered by the accoutrements of modern life and as naked as our ancestors
of centuries past, the woman completed a mutual removal of the outfit of the
surgeon.

The surgeon looked down at himself. “There is something in
this room that needs bringing to life if you please missus.”

“So there is,” she replied, kneeling in the dust and taking
hold of the patient with both her hands. Sliding her fingers back and forth,
the fevered object was soon in the firmest of health, pointing skywards as bold
as brass. “Is that better?” she asked, looking up at the surgeon. “As a medical
man, you should give me your professional opinion.”

“It needs warmth I believe,” he replied. “For tis cold as
ice.”

“Very well,” she replied, opening her mouth and taking him
deep into her throat, running her tongue over the veins to ensure he was
thoroughly heated in preparation for the forthcoming operation.

“That is capital my dear,” the surgeon said. “And I believe
you wished to be examined for soundness, is that right?”

“That is so,” she replied, letting go of his member and
manoeuvring to lean forwards before him, her posterior presented for his
inspection.

“I could give a certificate of health,” he replied. “You
glisten and glow as the morning dew but I must take your temperature to be
certain.”

“As you wish,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as
he stepped forwards, took hold of his shaft and guided himself into her waiting
hole. “You must delve deep to gauge correctly I believe.”

“I second that,” he replied, thrusting deeply into her
whilst taking hold of her buttocks in his hands. “They are as firm as I
expected,” he announced, “but how do they take movement?”

“I do not know good sir,” she said, her voice rising in
pitch as he began to slide back and forth inside her, all the while staring at
himself, the sight of his member vanishing into her helping to enflame his
ardour beyond control. “But there is an area upon my body that does itch so
painfully. Could you soothe it for me perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a surgeon if I could not,” he
replied, leaning under her and seeking the hardened nub at the edge of her sex.
He stroked it firmly as he continued to thrust into her until she let out a
gasp and began to shudder.

“That is the prescription for health,” she moaned, her legs
shaking as she contracted around his shaft. “I feel as if I were ten years
younger.”

“The benefits of modern medicine,” he replied, slamming deep
into her and groaning from the back of his throat. With a twitch and a jerk of
his shaft, he spurted deep into her the liquid which is so synonymous with
health. “I pronounce you cured of your ailments,” he sighed, sliding from her
and beginning to dress.

When they walked back into the room containing child and
infant, they found only one of the two remaining filled with life, the other
cold and still.

“Poor dear,” the pauper woman said, stooping to take up the
child.

“She will likely be troublesome,” the surgeon said, putting
on his gloves. “Give it gruel if it is.” He put on his hat and paused by the
bedside. “She was a good looking girl. Where did she come from?”

“Brought here last night, found in the street. She had
walked some distance for her shoes were worn out but where she was from, nobody
knows.”

The surgeon lifted her hand. “No wedding ring. Sex out of
wedlock, most despicable in my opinion. Good night.”

He left to his dinner as the nurse seemed ever oblivious to
the hypocrisy of herself and the surgeon, dressing the infant by the fire.
Enveloped in calico, she was badged and proved a parish child, orphan of the
workhouse, despised by all and pitied by none.

Olivia let out a cry. If she had known what was later to
befall her, perhaps she would have cried all the louder.