Succumbing (Sinful Submissions Book 3) Page 3

  It was about midnight when Thérèse turned the TV off and said she was tired. Armand had come home earlier and headed straight upstairs to his room without bothering to talk to either of them. They could hear music coming from his room but he didn’t seem interested in them.

  The girls got undressed and prepared for bed. They invariably shared the same bed on these occasions. After being friends for so many years they had nothing to hide from each other. Lucille knew that Thérèse looked at her critically when she was getting changed but even when she was bigger she hadn’t been embarrassed about letting her see her body, though she had sometimes felt jealous of her friend. Lucille knew that Thérèse was very pretty but had never really thought about her in a sexual way.

  She was coming back from the loo when she saw Armand, standing in the doorway of his room. He was wearing just a pair of tight blue jeans and had an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He looked upset.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

  “Nothing.” He took the cigarette from his mouth and fiddled with it. “You know that girl Gabrielle I was seeing?”

  Lucille wasn’t entirely sure but she nodded anyway. Which one of the girls she had seen hanging around with Armand was Gabrielle?

  “She told me today she’s been letting my friend screw her for the last month behind my back.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Women can be such bitches.”

  His gaze lingered on her gentle girlish curves that were poorly concealed by the thin pyjamas she was wearing. Lucille had seen him looking at her in that certain way other times recently. Six months ago he had barely even seemed to notice her, now there was clearly something on his mind. Lucille knew Armand was good looking but he seemed to be part of a different world to her.

  He seemed mature and handsome to her and it took little persuasion to get her to come into his room. Even at that age he had liked to consider himself skilled in the arts of seduction. Women can’t resist a bad boy that’s been hurt.

  He pushed the door shut behind them and kissed her. She was shocked but didn’t push him away. She tried to push his hands off her when he started to lift her pyjama top above her breasts.

  “Don’t you want to show me?”

  “What about Thérèse?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s just next door?”

  “So? This is nothing to do with her.”

  “She’s your sister...”

  “Which is why she’s not here. This is just about us. Now, let me see your lovely breasts.”

  He pushed her hands away and lifted her top, pulling it up over her head and off her arms. Instinctively she moved to cross her arms to cover herself but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Don’t hide. You’re beautiful.”

  He kissed her hungrily and the predatory gleam in his eyes made her shiver. Gently he guided her to the bed.

  He caressed her breasts gently while he kissed her, fondling them and running his thumb across the hardening nubs of her nipples. He leaned and kissed each of them lightly. His breath felt good on her skin. Her hand moved over his back. He pushed his hand down inside the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, brushing through the short, soft curls that grew over her sex. He tickled her skin lightly and made her laugh, then eased her pyjamas down over her bottom. He kissed her hip as he slipped the fabric lower. She lay there, moving just enough to help him remove her trousers. She was naked before him. His hands rested lightly behind her thighs, holding her where he wanted her to be. He kissed her stomach, his lips tracing hot lines across her skin. His tongue dipped into her navel. She opened her legs willingly for him. He stroked her legs open wider and brought his kisses lower. He lapped at her pussy, seeming to take pleasure in the little noises that she made as his tongue probed her womanhood. His tongue parted her lips, letting him taste her. He moved his fingers in and out of her slowly as his tongue teased her clitoris. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue as his fingers slowly opened her wider.

  He didn’t pretend to love Lucille but the touch of his hands and his lips on her body brought forth shuddering climaxes from her. She moaned his name as he sent fire through her body. When it had passed he let go of her and sat back on the bed. He lit a cigarette. She was gasping for breath. He watched her for a minute and then got up from the bed, pulled off his jeans and stood in front of her, his cock jutting firmly from his crotch, seeming to reach towards her.

  “Touch it.”

  She reached her hand out towards it gingerly. He caught her hand and closed it around his shaft, guiding it up and down. Her fingers caught a drop of something wet from the head. He pushed her back against the bed and nudged her thighs apart so that his legs were between hers.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, smiling. He didn’t give her time to reply. His fingers aided the head of his cock as it moved between her lips. Her pussy felt so sensitive that her whole body shook when his cock slipped inside. The flash of pain as he pushed deeper was irrelevant against the other feelings running through her. What started gently escalated rapidly. He clutched and grabbed at her body as he fucked her harder. Her nails dug into his back and her teeth into his shoulder as she spasmed uncontrollably. He gasped and moaned and bucked his hips as he came into her. She was pinned to the bed and the weight pressing down on her intensified everything. It was uncontrollable, primal, irresistible. She loved it. It was a fine and enthusiastic introduction to love.

  She dozed on his bed for a while after they were finished. When she woke up with the tinglings of passion fading from her she realised where she was and what had happened. Armand was lying face down on the bed, snoring softly. She got up quietly and left the room.

  Thérèse was sat on the edge of her bed waiting when Lucille returned to her room. There didn’t seem to be any point in trying to deny what had happened. She hadn’t been quiet.

  “What have you done?” Thérèse was angry and her eyes were wet with tears.

  “What do you think?”

  “Why did it have to be you? How dare you let him? You weren’t supposed to be first.”

  “I can promise you that I’m not the first girl that he’s done that to.”

  Thérèse threatened to tell her parents about what had happened. She was shouting loud enough that Armand heard her and came in.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You fucked her, you bastard!”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “You just shouldn’t. It’s wrong and I’m going to tell them.”

  “Don’t be stupid Thérèse. If you do that we’ll all be in trouble about it.”

  Thérèse pouted.

  “I don’t care.”

  Armand drew her aside and talked to her for a few minutes in a different room neither of them would tell Lucille what they agreed but it was enough that Thérèse kept what had happened from her parents.

  They passed the remainder of the night in awkward silence, sharing Thérèse’s bed but keeping far apart. Lucille had been torn between pride and shame. She could still feel Armand’s cum between her thighs, the evidence of her metamorphosis from innocent girl to sluttish woman. She had reached down to touch it, marvelling at the feel as she rubbed it into the swollen flesh of her lips. She struggled to stifle her moans as she brought herself close to another climax. She was interrupted by Thérèse. The other girl had not been as asleep as she had thought. One of Thérèse’s hands covered her mouth, smothering her sounds as her other hand pressed between Lucille’s thighs. Her searching fingers clutching at what Armand had left there. She felt a lingering trace of his cum under her fingers and she pressed herself close against Lucille, rubbing her sex against her aggressively. She pulled Lucille over onto her back and then lay on top of her, entangling their legs and keeping their pussies pressed together, rubbing harder and harder she gasped and moaned. It was an angry and loveless contact but it had been enough that they had climaxed together, the fluids of both their lusts mingling with Armand’s
. When it was over Thérèse had no kisses for Lucille. She pulled away from her and slept.

  They didn’t speak of that night again and their friendship seemed to have been ended by what had happened. Lucille later realised that Thérèse was mostly angry because some secret part of her had always held dark fantasies about her own step-brother. She couldn’t help but wonder what terms they had discussed in private. Maybe Thérèse got what she had wanted from Armand as the price for her silence.

  Four: How Harold's prayers were answered

  And now it is time for an old story, from a simpler time before the complications of modern technology when people gained their satisfaction through different means. Of course, simply because there was not the technology that aided people like James to become parents does not mean that there were not those who wished for children that were unable to have them, it just meant that they were forced to find different ways to get what they needed.

  In an age where mechanisation and industry are prevalent, many dream of the chance to return to the land, to become more immediately responsible for the nurturing of what they need to live. It’s easy to hold false idyllic perceptions of such an existence, especially if you’ve no first hand experience to judge it by. Of course, in times gone by a life of scraping what you needed from the land was all that was available to many and the comforts that we are inclined to take for granted were beyond the dreams of most.

  That Harold even had a cottage was a subject of great pride to him, even if it was sparse and primitive compared to the houses of those that lived in the town, and was barely more than a paltry hovel against the ancient castle that was the home of his Lord. The cottage was something that it had taken much toil for him to gain and though it had been many years since he had been forced to, the memory of too many nights from his youth spent sleeping in ditches lingered with him still and gave him good cause to value a roof to shield him from the elements, even if it needed patching in places.

  The cottage and the small patch of land surrounding it were scarcely worthy of being called a farm, but it was enough that through hard work and diligence Harold was able to provide for himself and his family. The location was secluded, far enough from the castle and the nearest village that they were seldom disturbed by the world around them.

  If Harold could be said to love his home above all things, it should not be interpreted as a sign that he had no love left for others. He had great affection for his wife, Mary and their daughter, Emily. Emily was their only child to survive outside its mother and the stillbirths had taken their toll on Mary and left her frail. As Harold grew older, he became increasingly aware of how precarious their situation could become. If he could not work then they would have nothing. Mary did what she could, but on many days that was little and it was becoming increasingly common for her to not rise from her bed at all for days on end. As she drew closer to womanhood Emily helped Harold in his labour as much as she was able, and he was glad for her assistance, but there was no way that she would be able to do everything and support the three of them alone.

  That in time Emily would have to find a husband was something Harold found himself thinking about often and on those days when his bones seemed to ache and he struggled at his tasks he could only hope that she would find someone suitable and the sooner she did and the richer he was the better for all of them. That he had no dowry to offer a potential husband concerned him. What had he but his wife, his daughter and his home? He wanted her to find someone rich to look after her and to have the reassurance of knowing that her children would be cared for and never have to go hungry. In the few moments of ease he had he found himself muttering prayers to those gods he knew that they might oblige him.

  When a hunting party of nobles and their retainers roamed onto his land in pursuit of quarry, tearing through his hedges on their way, Harold was initially angry but struggled to remain calm, reluctant to antagonise his betters. Emily followed him to investigate the disturbance and her charms caught the eye of the riders. It seemed that the nobleman in whose territory they lived, Lord Arthur, had made it known that he required a suitable companion to be found for his wife Lady Annabel from the local stock. It was required that the girl be of a specific look and free of all disease. Apparently they had been searching for a suitable girl for some time without finding her. To their eyes Emily seemed a viable candidate and they advised the Lord on their return to the castle. A messenger was despatched to Harold, requesting that he and his daughter attend their Lord. Though nervous about what this summons could mean Harold didn’t dare refuse. He told his daughter to gather what she needed and they set out to the castle together.

  Initially they were greeted by a servant and led to a chamber where they were offered food and wine. Questions were asked of her. Most were directed purely at Harold. He was asked to recall every incidence of sickness and disease in Emily’s life. She had always been healthy so there was little to admit to. Her virginity was questioned and vouched for. As much of the history of his line as he knew he told. The men seemed satisfied with his answers and left.

  They were summoned to appear before the lord. A servant ushered them into the great hall where he was waiting for them, surrounded by his attendants. Lord Arthur was a severe man in his middle years, with eyes that glinted darkly and the manner of a hungry predator in his movements. The Lord studied Emily closely for long moments. He told her to stand up so that he could see her form better, and then turn slowly on the spot. Apparently satisfied for the time being he focussed his attention on her father.

  Lord Arthur explained to Harold that Emily would be required to live with him and his wife as part of the household but what role she was to play was not clearly defined. Money was offered in the form of a stipend that would be paid to her father. It sounded like enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about poverty any more. All he had to do was take the coin and go.

  “She will stay here while we assess her suitability. If she is required to stay for longer you will receive more money.” The Lord indicated the money on the table between them and the door behind Harold. He had nothing more to say to him. How could Harold not agree? He left his daughter behind and kept a tight grip on the bag of money, trying not to dwell on the fate he had consigned his only child to.

  Her father gone, Emily was left in the custody of a servant who took her to see the Lord’s personal physician, Dr. Simon LeConte. She was obliged to strip and lie on a table and he proceeded to investigate her with the tools of his trade, measuring and assessing her form and physique. Though dirty, she was shapely and healthy, young and smooth and still sweet despite the roughness of her upbringing.

  The examination was thorough and intimate. Dr. LeConte seemed to take more than merely professional pride in his work and focussed his attentions for a long time on her womanly attributes. He thoroughly checked and measured each of her breasts in turn, then turned to the juncture of her thighs. He performed a thorough external examination then began to probe at her with some kind of metal instrument that felt unpleasantly cold. This cruel and mechanical intrusion was her first introduction to the sensations of the flesh. The isolation of their home had given her little opportunity to spend time in the company of people other than her parents and she had had no occasion to discover the pleasures that could be found between her thighs.

  “You’re lucky I’m under very strict instructions not to do more.” He whispered to her. His breath was hot and unpleasant against her flesh. “Such a sweet young cunny as you deserves to be explored, don’t you think?” She flinched as he moved his instrument within her. As he extracted it, his fingers dwelt longer than necessary, probing at her opening. She shuddered at the touch and tried to draw back from him. He laughed nastily at her discomfort.

  His examinations completed, Dr. LeConte stowed his tools and told her to get dressed again. He left the room and found Lady Annabel waiting impatiently outside it. She quizzed him at length about his findings, emphasising the importance of her
virtue.

  “And you’re sure this one’s a virgin?”

  “Completely, my Lady.”

  “If I should find reason to doubt that I’ll make sure you won’t be capable of deflowering any more maidens in the future. And since you’re the only physician and we could hardly expect you to do it to yourself I’ll have to get one of the stable-hands to do it. They’re used to gelding animals.”

  Gelding was a particular obsession for her and it was no idle threat. Just a few months ago the stable boy responsible for care of her favourite horse had suffered that fate at her command when the horse had died, though he had laboured at its side and cared for it. Dr. LeConte had seen the look in the boy’s eyes when the blade had severed his flesh and was understandably eager to avoid his fate.

  Emily was summoned to an audience with Lady Annabel. Though initially she seemed warm and even close to affectionate in her behaviour, Emily remained uncomfortable in her presence, a sensation that could only increase as Lady Annabel explained the role that they intended for her to play. Emily was to act as a surrogate, carrying the Lord’s heir.

  The Lord had in his employ an astrologer, John Faulkner, an accomplished practitioner of the art who had great skill in such mystical matters and it was him that detailed the ceremony that was to accompany the act. It was explained to her that while it would be Emily that Lord Arthur would lie with and she that would carry the child, through mysterious arts they would be able to make it so that Lady Annabel would truly be the mother.

  As the Lord and the Lady were ageing and Lady Annabel herself had proved unable to bear children, despite the efforts of both the physician and the astrologer, they were forced to look for other ways to get the Lord a suitable heir.