Classic: Victorian Erotica From 'The Pearl' (C.1880)
[public domain]
PART XIII
Erotica Sex Story: PART XIII - The Pearl was a Victorian underground magazine that ran from July 1879 to December 1880. One story within it was titled Lady Beatrice Pokingham: Or, They All Do It. This torrent contains the Pokingham story with new material that has not previously been published.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
[original 1879-1880 text, continued from above - editor]
Alice was so attached to me that since my first visit to her home, she had solicited her aunt to arrange with my guardians for my permanent residence with her during my minority, which quite fell in with their views, as it enabled me to see more society, and often meet gentlemen who might perhaps fall in love with my pretty face.
Lady St. Jerome undertook to present both Alice and myself; she was an aunt, and mentioned in her letter that unfortunately a star of the first magnitude would also be presented at the same drawing room, but still we might have a faint chance of picking up young Lothair, the great matrimonial prize of the season, if he did not immediately fall in love with the beautiful Lady Corisande, and that we should meet them both at Crecy House, at the Duchess’s ball, in celebration of the presentation of her favourite daughter, for which she had obtained invitations for us. For nearly three weeks we were in a flutter of excitement, making the necessary preparations for our debut. My mother’s jewels were reset to suit the fashion of the day, and every three or four days we went to town to see our Court milliner.
In company with Alice and her aunt, we arrived at Lord St. Jerome’s town residence in St. James’ Square, the evening before the eventful day; her ladyship was a most charming person of about thirty, without family, who introduced us before dinner to her niece, Miss Clare Arundel, Father Coleman, the family confessor, and Monsignore Berwick, the chamberlain of Pio Nono. The dinner was exquisite, and we passed a delightful evening, amused by the quiet humour of the confessor, and the sparkling wit of Monsignore, who seemed to studiously avoid religious subjects. Miss Arundel, with her beautiful, pensive, violet eyes, and dark brown golden hair, seemed particularly fascinated by the sallies of the latter, whilst there was a something remarked by both Alice and myself, which led us to suspect the existence of some curious tie between the two ecclesiastics and the ladies of the household.
Lord St. Jerome was not in town. At our special request, Alice and myself shared the same room, which opened into a spacious corridor, at one end of which was a small chapel or oratory. Our minds were so unsettled by the thoughts of the morrow, and also hopes of meeting some of our old friends in town, especially the Vavasours, that sleep was quite banished from our eyes; suddenly Alice started up in bed, with, “Hist! there’s someone moving about the corridor.” She sprang out of bed and softly opened our door, whilst I followed and stood close behind her. “They’re gone into the oratory,” she said. “I saw a figure just in the act of passing in; I will know what is going on; we can easily slip into some of the empty rooms, if we hear anyone coming.”
So saying, she put on her slippers and threw a shawl over her shoulders, and I followed her example; ready for any kind of adventure, we cautiously advanced along the corridor, soon we arrived at the door of the oratory, and could hear several low voices inside, but were afraid to push the door ajar for fear of being observed.
“Hush!” whispered Alice, “I was here when quite a little girl, and now remember that old Lady St. Jerome, who has been dead some time, used to use this room next to the chapel, and had a private entrance made for herself direct from the room into the oratory. If we can get in there,” she said, turning the handle, “we shall be in a fine place to see everything, as the room is never used, and said to be haunted by the old lady.” The door yielded to her pressure, and we slipped into a gloomy room, just able to see a little by the light of the moon.
Alice led me by the hand, having closed the door behind us; a cold shiver passed over my frame, but plucking up courage, I never faltered, and we soon found a little green baize door, bolted on our side. “Hush!” she said, “this opens into quite a dark corner, behind the confessional box,” as she gently withdrew the bolt, and we then noiselessly entered the chapel into a little kind of passage, between the box and the wall, and fortunately protected from observation by a large open-work screen, which completely hid us, but afforded quite a good view of the interior of the chapel. Guess our astonishment when we beheld both Lady St. Jerome and her niece in earnest conference with the two priests and overheard what passed.
Father Coleman. - “Well, Sister Clare, the Cardinal has ordered that you are to seduce Lothair, by all the arts in your power; every venial sin you may commit is already forgiven.”
monsignore, addressing Lady St. Jerome. - “Yes, and Sister Agatha here will assist you all she can; you know she is a nun, but by the modern policy of Holy Church, we allow certain of the sisters to marry when their union with influential men tends to further the interests of the Church; the secret sisterhood of St. Bridget is one of the most powerful political institutions in the world, because unsuspected, and its members have all sworn to obey with both body and soul; in fact, Sister Clare, this holy sisterhood into which we have just admitted you, by this special faculty from his Eminence, will permit you to enjoy every possible sensual pleasure here upon earth, and insure your heavenly reward as well.”
The bright light shows us plainly the blushing face of Clare Arundel, which is turned almost crimson, as the confessor whispers something to her. “Ah! No! No! No! not now,” she cried out.
Monsignore. - “The first act of sisterhood is always to do penance directly after admission, and you have taken the oaths to obey both in body and mind, sister Agatha will blindfold you, throw off your robe, and submit your body to the mortification of the flesh.”
Lady St. Jerome quickly removed the dressing-gown in which her niece was enveloped, and left the fair girl with nothing but her chemise to cover her beautiful figure; the bandage was speedily adjusted over her lovely eyes, and she was made to kneel on a cushion, and rest her arms and face on the rails of the altar. Father Coleman armed himself with a light scourge of small cords, fixed in a handle, whilst her ladyship turned up the chemise of the victim so as to expose her bottom, thighs, legs and back to his castigation; then she withdrew, and seated herself on the knee of Monsignore, who had made himself comfortable in a large chair close to the victim; he clasped her round the waist, and pressed his lips to hers, whilst their hands seemed to indulge in a mutual groping about each other’s private parts.
The scourge fell upon the lovely bottom; each stroke drawing a painful sigh from the victim, and leaving long red weals on the tender flesh.
The confessor continually lectured her on her future duties, and made her promise to do all his commands.
The poor girl’s bottom was soon scored all over, and dripping with blood; the sight of which seemed to inflame the others, so that the confessor’s affair stood out between the opening of his cassock, whilst Lady St. Jerome spitted herself on the pego of Monsignore, and rode a most gallant St. George as he sat in the chair.
The confessor. - “Now, sister, for the last mortification of your flesh, you must surrender your virginity to the Church.” Saying which, he produced several fine large cushions, took the bandage from her eyes, and laid her comfortably on her back for his attack, with an extra cushion under her buttocks, in the most approved fashion. Then kneeling down between her thighs, he opened his cassock, and we could see he was almost naked underneath. He laid himself forward on her lovely body, and whispered something in her ear, which was apparently a command to her to take hold of his lustful weapon, for she immediately put down her hand, and seemed (as far as we could see) to direct it to her crack herself. She was evidently fired with lust, and longing to allay the raging heat of the part which had been so cruelly whipped, for she heaved up her bottom to meet his attack, and so seconded his efforts that he speedily forced his way in, and the only evidence of pain on her part was a rather sharp little cry, just as he entered to break through the hymen. They lay for a moment in the enjoyment of the loving conjunction of their parts; but she was impatient, putting her hands on the cheeks of his bottom, and pressing him to herself in a most lascivious manner, and just then Monsignore and Sister Agatha, who had finished their course, got up, and one with the scourge, and the other with a thin cane (after first lifting up his cassock and exposing a brown hairy-looking bottom), began to lay on to Father Coleman in good earnest. Thus stimulated, and begging and crying for them to let him alone, he rammed furiously into Miss Clare, to her evident delight; she wriggled, writhed, and screamed in ecstasy, and gave us such a sight of sensual delirium as I have never seen before or since. At last he seemed to spend into her, and, after a while, withdrew himself from her reluctant embrace, as she seemed to try hard to get him to go on again.
We could see they were preparing to leave the chapel, so thought it time to make our retreat.
Next day we were presented, and nothing in the manner of the lively Lady St. Jerome, or the demure Miss Clare Arundel, would have led anyone to imagine the scene that we had witnessed in the small hours of the morning.
In the evening we were all at the Duchess’s ball. Lord Carisbrooke, to whom I was specially introduced, was my partner in the set, in which danced Lothair and Miss Arundel as vis-a-vis to Lady Corisande and the Duke of Brecon. Bye-and-bye the hero of the evening led me out for the Lancers, and afterwards we strolled into the conservatory, quite unobserved; his conversation was much livelier than I had expected, for Lady St. Jerome had represented to us that he was seriously bent on religion, and about to join the Romish Church. The conservatory was large, and we strolled on till the music and laughter seemed quite at a distance, and coming to a seat with a delightful fountain in front of us we sat down, but just as he was observing, “How delightful it was to withdraw from the whirl of gaiety for a few minutes,” we heard some light footsteps approaching, and evidently a very loving couple, the lady exclaiming, with a saucy laugh, “Ah! No! How dare you presume so; I would never be unfaithful to Montairy even in a kiss”; there was a slight struggle, and, “Ah, Monster, what a liberty!” and we heard the smack of lips upon a soft cheek, and then, “Oh! No! Let me go back,” but the gentleman evidently remonstrated, as I could hear him say, “Come, come, compose yourself, dear Victoria, a little, there is a seat here by the fountain, you must rest a moment,”
Lothair, with a start, whispered - “They must not catch us here, they’d think we had been eavesdropping; let’s hide ourselves and never say a word about it,” dragging me by the hand around a corner, where we were well screened by the foliage of the delicious exotics.
My heart was in a flutter, and I could perceive he was greatly moved. We stood motionless, hand in hand, as the lady and gentleman took possession of the cool seat we had just vacated; the latter proved to be the Duke of Brecon. I could see them plainly, and have, no doubt Lothair did also.
Lady Montairy. - “Now, sir, no more of your impudent pranks. Pray let me recover my serenity.”
The Duke knelt down and took her hand, which she affectedly tried to withdraw, but he retained it, saying:
“Dearest Victoria, pity my passion. How can I help loving those killing eyes, and luscious pouting lips. That very fact of its being wrong makes my determination the greater to enjoy you the first opportunity. It is useless to resist our fate: Why has the God of Love given me such a chance as this?”
She turns away her head with affected prudery; but not a blush rises to assert her horror at his speech. One hand presses her fingers to his lips; but where is the other Under her clothes. He first touches her ankle, and slowly steals it up her leg. She fidgets on the seat, but he is impetuous, and soon has possession of her most secret charms. Her languishing eyes are turned on him, and in an instant, he is on his legs, and pushing her clothes up, displays a lovely pair of legs in white silk stockings, beautiful blue garters with gold buckles, her thighs encased in rather tight-fitting drawers, beautifully trimmed with Valenciennes lace. His lips are glued to hers at the same instant, and his hands gently part her yielding thighs, as he placed himself well between them. It is but the work of an instant. He places her hand on the shaft of love, which he has just let out, and it is guided into the haven of love. Both are evidently too hot and impetuous, for it seems to be over in a minute.
She hastily kisses him, and puts down her clothes as she says: “How awful; but I could not resist Your Grace without disordering all my dress. It’s been quite a rape, sir,” with a smile. “Now, let’s make haste back before we are missed.” He kisses her, and makes her agree to an assignation, somewhere in South Belgravia, for the morrow, to enjoy each other more at leisure, and then they were gone.
It would be impossible to describe the agitation of my partner during this short scene; Lothair seemed to shiver and shudder with emotion, I was also all of a tremble, and nestled close to him, my arm designedly touching the bunch in his trousers, always so interesting to me; I could feel it swell and seem ready to burst from its confinement; he nervously clasped my hand, and was speechless with emotion all during the scene which I have described; as soon as they were gone he seemed to give a gasp of relief, and led me out of our hiding place. “Poor girl,” he said, “what a sight for you, how I trembled for my own honour, lest the scene should make me lose my self-control. Ah! wretched woman, to betray your husband so!” Then looking at me for the first time he said, “Do you not think it is best for a man never to marry?”
Used as I had been to such things, his terrible emotion made me quite sympathize with him, and my own agitation was quite natural, as I replied, “Ah! my Lord, you little know the ways of the world; I saw a more awful scene than what we have witnessed, only last night, enacted by men sworn to perpetual celibacy, and you yourself were mentioned as a victim to their infernal plot.”
“My God! Lady, pray tell me what it was,” he ejaculated. “Not now, we shall be missed, do you know any place where I can have a private conference with your lordship? If so, meet me to- morrow afternoon at two o’clock, in the Burlington Arcade. I shall come disguised,” I answered.
He hastily wrote the assignation on his tablets, and we made haste to return to the saloons from which we had been absent quite twenty minutes. A little while after, as I was sitting by the side of Alice, whispering my adventure in her ear, Lady Montairy, to whom I had previously been introduced, came and seated herself by my side. “Ah!” she said, with a sly look, “you’re in a fair way to carry off the great prize; my sister Corisande will stand no chance.”
“I’ve only danced one set with him,” I replied, demurely. “Ah!” she laughed, “it was not the Lancers I referred to, but your quiet stroll into the recesses of the conservatory. You had quite a lover’s tete-a-tete.”
“But we did not indulge in a Pas Sett!, as you did with His Grace,” I laughed, enjoying her confusion.
She was speechless with surprise, her eyes fairly started with affright, and I hastened to reassure her, “I’m your friend, dear Lady Montairy, your secret is safe with me, and I hope you will not make any remarks in connection with myself and Lothair.” She squeezed my hand nervously, and asked, “Do you remember Fred’s birthday? I was not there, but my brother Bertram was with his cousins the Vavasours, and passed as their brother Charlie, who happened to be too ill to go with them. I’m initiated into your society. We shall meet again,” she added with a smile; “I must go now to keep my engagements.”
The supper was a fairy feast, except for its substantial reality, and we returned home to Lady St. Jerome’s charmed with everything, and especially with the fine prospect we seemed to have of future enjoyment.
Next day I made an excuse to go out alone to pay a visit to an old schoolfellow, and two o’clock found me sauntering through Burlington Arcade. Lothair was there to the minute, and gently whispered in my ear, as I was looking in a doll-shop.
“Now, this is really kind of Your Ladyship, and proves you can be depended on; I have made a most excellent arrangement, we have only to step across the road to the Bristol Hotel in Burlington Gardens, where I have ordered luncheon for myself and cousin, in a private apartment, and they know me too well to pry into my affairs.”
The chamber-maid attended me in the bedroom, and as soon as I had laid aside my cloak, hat, &c, I rejoined Lothar in the adjoining apartment, where a sumptuous luncheon was set out. Lothair, whose shyness of the previous evening seemed considerably dispelled, most gallantly insisted upon my partaking of refreshment, before a word of my communication should be uttered. “Besides,” he said, “a little champagne will give you courage, if it is at all disagreeable; the scene last night was such a shock to both of us that if you now prefer to be silent I won’t press you about what you mentioned in the excitement of such a moment.”
His conversation was very lively all through the repast, and when we had nearly finished I asked him to ring for a little milk, which was brought to me; he was at the moment abstractedly examining the debris of a pate de foie gras. I poured part of the milk into two champagne glasses, and slyly added about ten drops of tincture of cantharides, with which Alice had provided me, to his portion. “Now, my Lord,” I said, “I challenge you to pledge me in a glass of my favourite beverage, champagne and milk, I think it is delicious,” pouring out the fizzing wine, and handing him the glass, which I first touched with my lips. His eyes sparkled with delight as he drained it to the bottom, and flung the empty glass over his shoulder, exclaiming, “No one shall ever put their lips to that again, it was indeed a challenge, Lady Beatrice, after which nothing but the reality will satisfy me,” then rising, he persisted in claiming the kiss I had, as he alleged, challenged him to take.
“Now,” he continued, drawing me to a sofa, “let us sit down and hear the awful communication you hinted at; who were those wretched men?”
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