By Jen
I was now assured of my suspicion that an unseen world of illicit pleasure existed within our household, although its scope had surprised me. The morning following my discovery of their tryst, neither my governess nor my stepmother gave any indication that they were aware I had discovered them, and I felt obliged to keep up their pretense. I began to seriously doubt that I had been discovered. At the very least, Mademoiselle had not seen me, so if mama had not told her she would not know. But I found being stuck with this secret infuriating, and my mind was distracted with constant fantasies of what had been going on behind closed doors around me.
The idea aroused me whenever I thought of it, and I found myself more often stealing moments to indulge in that arousal. The orgasms I gave myself seemed to get stronger and deeper, but the more I pleasured myself the more I realized that what I really wanted was to be able to join the indecent cabal for their games.
Not long before the idea would have seemed shocking, but I gave in to my desires willingly. All the same, the idea seemed shocking and impossible. How could I, a young girl, approach my governess, let alone my own stepmother, and ask to be ushered into their sexual society? And what of the coachman, and his impressive member? Could I really let him use it on me?
I resolved to find a solution to my exclusion, and settled on the idea of forming my own sinful secret society. If I were discovered by them to be enjoying the same illicit pleasures, perhaps they would invite me into their confidence, and reveal to me the other secrets of their lustful world.
But where could I find a suitable partner to reveal myself to? I briefly thought of engaging Severine, but felt her innocence was still a little too pristine. Perhaps one of the maids would do? But perhaps they were already ensnared in the house’s secret, a possibility which led me to cast my net beyond our walls.
There were no suitable young men anywhere near, but I did have a friend who lived only a couple of hours away. Her name was Francoise, and I had stayed with her family for a few months after mother died, and occasionally since, though we had rarely returned the courtesy. She seemed the best candidate indeed, as we had always got on closely, and the last time I had stayed at her house we had spent a forbidden session kissing one another on the pretense of practicing for boys.
I approached father in his study one day, and he agreed. “It will be your birthday in a few months, perhaps we shall ask Francoise’s family to let her stay with us for a time around then?”
“What a lovely idea,” said my stepmother, who stood behind my father’s chair with her hand on his shoulder, “I used to so enjoy having girlfriends stay with me when I was your age,” she said, smiling.
*****
So eventually my fifteenth birthday came, and with it my friend Francoise. I enjoyed having someone my own age to spend time with immensely, and our friendship picked up as if we had never been apart. We spent all the days together, and she slept in the spare bed in my own bedchamber. The weather was glorious, and we spent much time in the garden, or riding in the fields and lanes. Severine was somewhat jealous of my new friend, and complained that we left her behind, but I tended to ignore her whining.
Francoise confided in me that all was not well in her family. They had lost all of their money, and her father had taken to drinking and was often violent to both the family and the staff. To be honest, Francoise was glad to be away from the house for a while, and said her stay here had been a breath of fresh air.
She had become even more lovely than when I had last seen her a year before. I envied her long blond hair, and did not believe her when she said she admired my own red. I spent hours spreading and brushing that hair, running my fingers through it, and plaiting and arranging it in various styles. Her face was pretty, too, with green eyes and a small pert mouth, that I loved to remind myself that I had kissed. Her neck was like a swan’s, and her body was filling out with womanly curves.
I began to make a point of looking at her naked body while she was changing into her nightdress. She noticed me doing so, and was a little embarrassed at first, but after a couple of nights she became more bold, and began to meet my gaze. I was naturally changing at the same time, so we both stood next to our beds naked. She met my eye and held it for a long moment, before her eyes trailed lightly down over my naked body. Then she looked in my eyes another long moment before breaking the spell and putting her gown on.
This continued for three nights, at each the amount of time we spent looking at each other becoming a little longer. I began to find the anticipation delightful, and I could tell she was searching for the next step too. My chance came on the third night, when I noticed on the inside of her arm some long marks. Stepping forward, I took her by the wrist and touched the scars lightly.
“Francoise, darling, what are these?”
She looked embarrassed, and didn’t meet my eye.
“I…” she squirmed a little, and bit her lip.
“You did these with a knife?” She nodded. I felt for her, and thought how unhappy and alone she must have felt when she did it.
“Come, sit here,” I motioned her onto my bed. Turning my back on her I went to my bureau and retrieved a small blade I used for sharpening drawing charcoal. Without showing it to her, I climbed onto the bed and knelt by her. Before I could change my mind I drew the blade sharply down the inside of my arm. It stung, and blood began to flow immediately.
“What are you doing?” she looked at me with surprise.
“Now you.” I said, handing her the knife.
She looked at me with trepidation, then at my arm with the crimson rivulet flowing down it. A drop of blood fell onto the white quilt, which seemed to galvanize her. She laid the blade against her own inside arm, and drew it against he flesh. I grasped the hand of her wounded arm with my own and squeezing it tightly, brought the two cuts together, mingling our blood. Comprehension flooding into her eyes.
“Now your blood is my blood,” I said “and you don’t ever have to suffer alone.”
Her eyes watered, and she leaned in and, ignoring our nakedness, she hugged me tightly, our breasts pressing together. We kissed one another on the cheeks and eyes, and I was about to kiss her lips when she broke the embrace with a strange look in her eyes. She had a look of earnest hunger, and she turned her eyes to my bloodied arm. Before I could realize what she was doing she took the wound into her mouth and sucked at my blood. She broke off after a moment, and looked at me squarely. Her lips and teeth were stained red, and combined with the wild desire in her eyes it made her look like a sensuous creature of the night. I had to reciprocate, and putting her bleeding arm to my lips I licked the strong salty blood and sucked for more. She held my head against her wound while I did.
I pulled away and looked at her. She was still sat on the edge of the bed, but climbed up onto it facing me, she had the knife in her bloody hand, and she was breathing quickly, her full breasts rising and falling. She put the knife to her other arm and cut herself again, holding it to my mouth. I licked more delicately this time, watching her as I did. A drop of blood ran down the corner of my mouth and down my chin. She leaned forward and licked it up quickly, and before she could retreat I kissed her passionately. She tasted metallic from the blood, and our tongues joined each other in the midst of the the kiss. She melted down to the bed, and I followed her. We lay on our sides on the bed. Her smooth skin felt cool against mine, and I ran my hand down her flank to her thigh and pulled her leg over me.
Her mouth moved on from mine and she kissed and licked down my neck, and I watched her as her carried on down to my breast, kissing it all over, but stopping just short of the nipple to look up at me mischievously. She produced the knife again and pressed my shoulders gently back onto the bed. Raising herself up onto one elbow, she positioned her breast close to my lips and pointed the tip of the knife at the base of her throat. Slowly, she cut the soft skin of her neck, and let the blood flow down her breast to her nipple dangling just above my mouth. I took the offering into my mouth, tasting the salty blood on her stiffening nipple and swirling it with my tongue. She moaned softly and closed her eyes. I watched her long golden hair spill forward as she let her head loll, and held her body to me, running my hands down her back. I moved my head to her other nipple and felt its softness turn stiff under the influence of my tongue. I did my best to give her as much pleasure as I could, and she seemed to find my efforts more than sufficient.
Her hand still held the knife as she gently traced her fingertips down between my breasts and over my belly to toy gently with my pubic hair. She moved herself between my legs and brought her face down, running her cheek along one inner thigh. She paused for a moment, and I felt her hot breath panting on my waiting labia. She teased the lips lightly with her mouth and tongue, and moved up towards where my clit nestled. Her eyes were closed and she seemed engrossed in what she was doing. Her lips were stained with the mixture of our blood, and she looked for all he world like a wild animal, apart from the gentle, almost reverent way her tongue explored my exposed secrets.
I began to moan encouragement to her, as what she was doing felt delicious and she began to probe deeper and more confidently. She brought a bloody hand up and spread the lips widely, making me moan, as she played up and down the tender parts within with her tongue. She came up to the top of my slit and began to tease my clitoris out with her tongue, working all around it, but never upon it directly. The feeling was indescribable, and I arched my back and writhed.
She paused for a moment, and I looked down the length of my body to where she lay between my spread thighs. In the moonlight the skin of her naked body seemed translucent, and her eyes were like dark pools. Her fingertips were lightly toying with the opening of my vagina, and I could hear and see the wetness coming from within it. I moaned in encouragement, and she slid one of her fingers up into the warm wetness. My body offered her no resistance, and she buried it all the way to the knuckle. She curled her finger slightly and drew it along the inside wall as she slowly pulled it most of the way out. Joining it with a second finger she slid back into me all the way again, twisting her fingers. I watched her expression, and she seemed engrossed with the sight of the fingers disappearing into my body. She began to work them more urgently, making long deep strokes into me, licking her thumb and placing it over my clit as she did. I began to lose control and lay back surrendering myself to the pleasure she was delivering. As I lay moaning she raised herself up to kneel straddling one of my legs and began to slide her own wet sex along my thigh, with her spare hand toying frantically with her own clit.
I could resist no longer, and the waves of an orgasm built and washed over me and I cried out and grasped at the bed covers as Francoise pushed deeper within me. As I began to subside she withdrew her fingers and slid herself up my thigh bringing our sexes together, the lips joining and our juices mingling, as we both delicately ground our hips. She was soft and hot and slippery against my sensitive folds, still recovering from my orgasm.
We both collapsed together and said nothing, and in a few short minutes Francoise was asleep in my arms. Everything had worked out perfectly.
Continue on to Chapter 4
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