Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

By Amanda

1792 – Philadelphia Pa.

Madeline met me early that day. The day that changed my life in Philadelphia. We walked together to a lovely pond where we watched ducks and geese swimming. Even against the harsh stares of those around us, Madeline held my hand in hers and we sat like foolish little girls making eyes at one another.

“Come and live with me, Elizabeth,” she said after what seemed an internal debate on the subject. I did not know what to say at first. Did she mean what I hoped she meant? Or did she simply want me around to relieve loneliness?

I thought about it for some time before I smiled and nodded my head to her. The house mistress had grown cold toward me after she saw that nothing she had said had deterred me from seeing Madeline. The sisters seemed always to giggle about me, and even the other girls were different. It was the dirty secret of the house and I was the unfortunate subject of it. It had all become too much and Madeline was offering a way to escape it.

“This very day then. We’ll go now and gather your things,” she insisted. She stood and dusted herself off, then offered her arm to me. I took it confidently. I could do anything with confidence when I was with her.

We walked an hour back to the house and Madeline politely remained outside while I went up to pack my bag. I had come with two dresses. I would leave with three. I had two dollars when I arrived in the house, and I had three dollars saved now. I turned to leave, feeling I’d long worn out my welcome, but found the sisters standing at the door of my room. They walked in together and wrapped their arms around me, wishing me a tearful farewell.

I had not expected this from them, nor from anyone else. I felt I had fallen out of favor with them all. Elsa stood back and held my hands, looking at me for what she knew to be the last time.

“Elizabeth, dear, does she truly make you happy?”

“She does,” I answered.

“Such things are what you want? Could you never see yourself with a proper husband and family?” I shook my head. “Then I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

“Me too,” Mary offered.

I smiled at them as tears slipped down my cheeks. “And I you, Elsa… Mary… I shall truly miss you both.”

“I can’t say that either of us can understand it,” said Mary, “but we’ll miss you.”

I nodded, that was good enough. Could I have asked any more? Perhaps I had misunderstood them. As I stood there, I realized that they may have been giggling and whispering for me and not at me. Of course any acceptance they might feel for me had to be as hidden as my relationship with Madeline should have been.

I paid my rent until the end of the week and left the house, to Madeline’s waiting arms. She smiled and took my bag in one hand, then offered her free arm to escort me to my new home.

We caught a cab at the cafe and rode to the place where she lived. It was situated above her workshop. She could boast of three bed chambers, a kitchen, a sitting room, and a parlor. It was a fine house indeed.

I had not imagined in my life that I would ever live with such luxury. And so it was that I set about cooking, cleaning, and doing all the womanly things I had been taught to do. She worked from dawn to dusk in the shop and came upstairs everyday weary and dirty.

Without fail, I would draw her a bath. She was indeed the cleanest farrier in all of the city. Together we would sit in the tub and wash. Our eyes never leaving the other, we flirted, smiled, and enjoyed the closeness. But with all of that, strangely, she had not taken me to her bed, though I tried to seem available to her.

She was resisting. Sleeping in her own room and leaving me in mine. I was saddened, but what could I have done?

Three weeks passed with this strange practice. I was frustrated and feeling the fool not only a little for thinking she had any romantic interest in me. We sat at table eating our supper in silence one night when at last I looked across at her.

“Have I misunderstood?” I asked. “Were you not courting me all that time?”

Madeline swallowed hard but looked relieved. “Of course I was, Elizabeth.”

She sipped at her soup. A moment passed, and then she looked up to me. Her face wore an expression of uncertainty, something I’d thought I never would see.

“Am I your first?” she asked.

I shook my head and blushed.

This seemed a relief to her, though. “And you are not mine, not by many.”

Many, I thought, how many? Something in me wanted to know, but something else assured me it would be better not to think of it.

“There are lots of tom boys here?” I finally asked.

“No, I should think not. But there are enough. And we’re not toms. Only British girls are toms. Here in America, we’re… well, we haven’t a word for it to tell the truth. Sapphist, perhaps.”

“Sapphist?” I repeated. “That’s the word? The poet Sappho?” I finally had a proper word to describe my unnatural desires. My perversions had a name, and this came as such a relief to me.

She smiled at my reaction. “I’ve something to show you, I think.”

I wanted to know right away what it was, but she insisted that first we finish our supper. When we were done, we bathed as we always did. For anyone else so much bathing would be unusual, but Madeline insisted it was necessary.

We finished, dried ourselves, and donned our night dresses. Madeline then led me to her room and stood before me for some time, letting me see her looking like a girl, for she so rarely did this.

“Do you like me this way?” she asked.

I did. Better even, but I daren’t say that.

“You’re a fine lady yourself, and that excites me. I am what I know I am, but you… raised by nuns… am I only a passing fancy, Elizabeth?”

“No,” I assured her. “Not at all, Maddy. Not ever. I know it is my desire only to be with a woman. I know this truly.”

She stared at me, then said, “I want to show you something. But you must understand its gravity, child. If you should accept, I’ll have ruined you for any man. None will have you and you’ll be alone. I could not bear that guilt.”

“I’d rather be alone than bound to a man,” I stated.

Madeline tried to smile. She knelt at the edge of her bed and reached underneath, pulling out a carpet bag.

“This is a bit of a treasure. I have had to trade a lifetime of free work and horseshoes to acquire this and assure its secrecy.”

She opened the bag and withdrew what at first I saw as the strangest object I had ever laid my eyes upon. I realized shortly that it was a polished wooden phallus, suspended from a belt of sorts that seemed to fit about the waist and between the legs.

I stood gaping at the device in wonder for several moments before Madeline slipped out of her night dress and began to put it on.

I did not know what to do. I was in shock, but nevertheless intrigued. She laid me on the bed and caressed me, lying on top of me and kissing me deeply. I could feel the phallus between my legs, pushing at my sex through my gown. I realized suddenly that I was aching for it.

Such deviance. Such perversion as this surely must never before have been explored. No woman ever felt such desires as I felt now, and certainly it meant that there was something wrong with me. I was so ashamed of my wanton lust, and yet my shame did nothing to discourage my explorations.

“What is it?” I finally managed to say.

“It is called a dildo. A wicked device serving no purpose but to excite the loins of a woman.”

Wickedness, perversion, that was my pursuit now. My life’s work. All of the virtues of virginity and chastity meant nothing in that moment. Want was all I had and was my mistress now.

I rose up as she pulled my gown from my body. We kissed each other, caressed each other. Madeline was savoring every inch of my flesh and I was content to let her. Even my curiosity about the object she now wore was not enough to make me want to rush her. She suckled my nipples like an infant and slid her hands between my legs, gathering my wetness and licking it from her fingers.

“You know this will hurt at first?” she said.

I nodded. I had heard what it was to lose one’s virginity.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Was it? I had to wonder. I did not love this woman. I loved Molly, and would have harbored no doubts had Molly asked such a thing of me. I wondered at that moment if I should not be in love before doing this. I contemplated for a time before deciding that I would never, could never, love again.

I smiled up at her, nodding my head. “I’m ready,” I whispered.

Madeline pressed her lips to mine and drove her tongue into my mouth. Waves of excitement and heat washed over me, and finally she held herself above me. Again I nodded my head.

She was gentle but quick about it. She pushed the phallus into me and I felt the tearing of flesh. I gasped in pain, but fought not to show anything more.

The pain vanished quickly. Madeline worked the dildo in and out, driving it deep within me, and each time I groaned, cried out, or gasped. I felt so full, where Molly’s fingers had never provided such sensation.

At long last I felt my climax growing in my loins, and I tore at Madeline’s buttocks, urging her to move faster, to go deeper, to push harder.

Madeline grabbed a pillow from under my head and covered my face as I screamed out. I hardly even realized I had until it was too late. Surely the neighbors would have heard me. Surely they would know of the deviant and wanton behavior we were now engaging in. Part of me expected the knock of a constable at the door at any moment.

I wanted to wear the dildo. I wanted to return the pleasure to Madeline, but she would not hear of it. Instead I was encouraged between her legs where I happily lapped at her sex. I knew what I was doing, though I had not done it in a very long time. I feared I might have forgotten how, but I had not, and it was as exquisite as I remembered.

When at last Madeline pushed her hips into the mattress and moaned loudly, I nearly climaxed a second time myself.

We slept that night with her holding me from behind, and I lying in the darkness only wished that it had been Molly. It was not regret I felt. I did not regret what we had done. I only wished that it could have been in the light of the love I felt for Molly.

I awoke just before dawn. Madeline would sleep a while longer, as I prepared breakfast for us both. It was quite a fine meal, eggs and sausage.

Madeline’s shop did a good turn of business. Even as unusual as the woman must seem to most, she had a fine reputation, and her clients were very loyal.

That evening, Madeline joined me at the small table we took our meals from. She ate quietly, smiling up at me from time to time.

“What is it?” I finally asked.

Her smile broadened and she set her fork down. “Do you feel different?” she asked. “I felt different the first time.”

“My loins ache,” I admitted. “And I suppose I do feel different. But I cannot quite guess how.”

Had Madeline, I asked myself, been invaded by such an object? Did she once have a woman who guided her as I now felt she was guiding me? Molly could have been a passing fancy, I supposed, a childhood indulgence, but this was something more than that.

What I felt with Madeline was not a passing fancy. I knew what I desired and I had gone after it. I had gotten it. I could hardly imagine what I had done. It would be years before the importance Madeline played in my life fully dawned on me.

“The pain will pass,” she assured me. “You’ll feel it a little less every time until you feel only pleasure.”

Every time, she had said. I could only hope she meant that. That she intended to indulge our perversions fully and often.

When breakfast was done, I cleaned the table and the dishes and she went down to her shop to begin the day’s work. I had much to do every day, but on this day I could only think of the night before.

A year prior, I would have thought that such a thing might disgust me. My flesh invaded by something in the form of a male member. It was enough to make me feel ill, but I had not felt ill the night before. Knowing it was Madeline made this acceptable. Made it pleasurable.

We lived this way for another few weeks before questions began to arise from those around us, and Madeline settled on the story that I was a cousin come to help her. The story was good enough and the questions stopped. Whatever anyone might think or suspect they kept to themselves.

I said that my new life began with her, and it did. But it was not the sexual explorations that made my new life new. It was my introduction to the dark underside of Philadelphia. I could never have suspected that such things existed here had she not shown me.

Madeline told me not to prepare supper on a particular night. She closed her shop at six and came up, hurriedly bathing and dressing in a lovely purple vest and black breeches. She led me out of the house and to the street where we hailed a cab.

We rode for an hour, deep into the city. Madeline sat quietly, smiling and looking at me. She knew what I was going to see, but I could only guess. At long last we stopped in what seemed a prosperous district and got out of the cab. She paid the driver and led me to a stairwell going just below street level. The scent of wine and beer wafted up, and from inside I heard a voice rasied in song. A tavern? Indeed it was, but not like any I could have imagined.

We descended the stair where a bearded, uniformed man welcomed Madeline, and then, after a glance and a wink at me, opened the door, affording us passage.

I did not at first recognize the new world I had stepped into. It was not until closer inspection that I realized the majority of people in this tavern were women, and those I had taken for men or boys were not that at all, but instead like my Maddy.

I did not know what to think. So many unusual women here in this one place. Were they all like me? Did they all come in hopes of finding even one night’s pleasure with another of their own sex?

What had Maddy done to me? I was a lady, and my unwholesome desires heretofore had been kept secret, but here that was no secret. The knowing glances and smiles, the familiar greetings and introductions, all this meant that everyone around understood what Maddy and I did in the secrecy of her room. Did they know about the wicked device she kept hidden ‘neath her bed? Did they know that I welcomed it into me?

I was immediately ashamed. Blushing and nearly in tears, I turned and made my way toward the door, but Madeline stopped me.

“What is it?” she asked.

I turned to her, my eyes filled with shame. I cannot even today adequately describe my humiliation. Madeline saw it, though, and I believe she even understood.

“These women are friends,” she insisted. “What they know of us, we know of them. There is no need of secrets here.” She gently urged me back inside. “Nowhere in the world should you find such kind and accepting hearts.”

I tried to believe her. I wanted to believe her. Still, something within me could not relax that night.

“Maddy!” a woman in breeches and soldier’s jacket exclaimed. She shook my Maddy’s hand, then looked over her shoulder at me. “And who is this enchanting creature who graces you with her presence?”

I blushed and turned away. The woman stepped around Madeline and grasped my hand in hers, kissing it like a man. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she said with a smile.

“Careful, Catherine. She’s with me.”

“Indeed.” The woman patted Madeline on the shoulder and smiled, her eyes never leaving me. “Does she have a name, I wonder?”

“Elizabeth,” I answered with a quick curtsey.

Catherine bowed low before me, sweeping her hat in front of her. “Catherine Pennington, at your service, m’lady.”

She then turned to Madeline, and they spoke quietly for a moment before Catherine raised her voice and called to the barkeep to provide us a drink of our choosing at her expense. Soon she left us alone to enjoy our drinks, returning to a throng of similarly dressed women. I watched her for some time with no small level of fascination.

“She owns the house above,” Madeline told me.

I tore my eyes away from the others and looked at her.

“Her father died in the Revolution. Gave his life to free us.”

“Then he was a hero,” I said.

“He was a fiend that did one good thing.”

“He fought for us?”

“He died,” she stated.

I will never know why Maddy would say something so cruel. Never again did anything that horrible pass her lips, and Catherine herself never spoke to me of her father in any detail.

Madeline drank down a tankard of ale all at once, and set the empty on the table. “Her mother took ill and lives above. This place, it is hers. And very exclusive. We are fortunate to be welcomed here. Mostly it is only for the very wealthy.”

“Is this, then, a condition of the wealthy?” I said.

“Are we wealthy?” she asked me.

We were not. We did well and lived well, but not without a great deal of work and saving. Above us in this house there were surely servants, maids, cooks, and the like. Madeline and I could never afford such luxury.

She smiled and kissed my cheek. “I do not know what makes us this way. But I don’t care, I simply enjoy it.”

She enjoyed it? How, I wondered. I was so ashamed of my perversions. My unnatural desires troubled me deeply, and I dearly wished it was not so. Truly it was both love and hate. A part of me loved what I had become, but the lady I had been raised to be hated it — yet Madeline enjoyed it. My admiration of her grew that night. She was free within herself. I hoped that perhaps someday I could learn to be so free.

We drank and talked for the rest of the night. It was early morning when Madeline took me from the tavern back out to the streets. We walked along quietly for some time before she began to look for a suitable cab.

I thought we should never find a ride, but at length a coachman stopped for us and Madeline opened the door, helping me inside. A moment later we were in each other’s drunken arms, kissing and touching as the carriage bumped and swayed toward her home.

We arrived at the house and Madeline jumped out, taking my hand to help me down. She paid the driver, and we stumbled and giggled our way upstairs.

I knew what Madeline had in mind when she pulled me close and ran her hands to my bottom, squeezing it gently. She wanted the same thing I did. The same thing we both always seemed to want.

It is the one thing about a perversion, I think. To have it in one’s mind is not a terrible thing. I believe nearly all people must ponder over such things at some time or another in their lives. Especially a lady, as I. We are to forever be the focus of someone else’s baser desires, but are forbidden ourselves to have these desires or to enjoy the act. We are expected to be ashamed and disdainful of such things. Yet surely all ladies must live a rich and secret fantasy life, I suspect.

However, indulge your desire just once, allow your perverse fantasies to be made real only a single time, and you are given over to them forever. I did not know what wickedness had seized me, but I could not have escaped it now. It had been released from Pandora’s box and never could I put it back.

But even worse than the sins I committed every moment of every day, while acting in essence as the wife of this farrier I had come to know, I did not wish to chase this demon away. Even as much as I hated it, also did I love my wicked heart and all of the forbidden pleasures it had brought me. I loved it with great shame.

I would not have been able to admit this then. I can only say it now, years later. Now that I have explored my every perversion, and such things as being a wife to this woman seem so tame and unexciting.

Her tongue invaded my mouth and I indulged her. I cupped her breasts in my hands, removed her vest and unbuttoned her shirt. She tugged at my dress and opened my undergarments until all could easily be pulled away. We fell naked onto the bed, and as she kissed me, Madeline reached down to pull the bag and its forbidden contents from beneath the bed.

I had come to love her wicked device. It brought me no less pleasure than her tongue and far more than her fingers. She drew it up her legs and buckled it around her waist. A devious smiled played at her lips as she enjoyed my anticipation.

She pressed it against my sex, sliding the tip up and down along my opening. I shuddered and moaned. She was preparing me. I held her breasts in my hands using my thumbs to tease her nipples as she teased my loins.

Finally, when I thought surely I could bear no more, she slid the phallus inside me and I threw my head back with a breathy sigh. Yes, yes, and yes, this is what I longed for.

Madeline pushed it in deeply and slowly at first, but her movements grew in speed over time. We rocked together, my hands going from her breasts to her soft bottom. I pulled her deeper, ever deeper.

Suddenly she took me in her arms and rolled us over, bringing me to sit atop her, straddling her hips and now able to accept the dildo as deeply as I desired. This was a new experience for me, and it brought a new brand of ecstasy as I bounced up and down on her, bringing myself to shattering ecstasy.

I fell forward on her and closed my eyes, needing a moment to recover. She gently stroked my back. She knew. Madeline too had felt such a thing, but now enjoyed the role of instructor. This much at least I understood.

Soon I eased forward a little until her dildo was free of my sex. I helped her remove it, then began shifting down on the bed to take my usual place between her thighs. She stopped me, though, turning me above her until my face lay between her legs and hers between mine.

What terrible and exquisite wickedness did she now have in mind for me? With a presumed understanding of what I was expected to do, I pressed my tongue to her sex, lapping at the opening and at the knot she had taught me was called the clitoris. She returned my forbidden kiss, and we exchanged these pleasures for quite some time before the familiar building from within the center of my loins encouraged me to a more regular rhythm, rocking against her mouth.

It seemed that this encouraged her as well, and to my surprise we both achieved climax at the same time, not ceasing then, but licking, kissing, and sucking at one another through more peaks until at long last we both relaxed.

I rolled off her onto the bed, lying on my side and folding my legs behind me. I stroked her legs and belly. I loved her soft skin. She gently caressed me, and though her hands were rough with hard labor, there was a gentleness to her touch.

It was not love I felt, but I was content with what it was. Madeline, I knew, loved me, and I said the words so as not to hurt her feelings but I did not feel it. All the same, this was something I could envision as lasting forever. It truly was wonderful, living with her. The days of work and togetherness, the sinful nights. I imagined it to be this way for the the rest of my life, and was quite satisfied.

Continue on to Chapter 4