Miss Rochester
“But Geoffrey she has a dowry of twenty thousand a year, we need the money.” Father insisted as they tried once more to marry me off to some dull sickly ugly wench with a fortune in search of a title.
Its no fun being Lord this or that with not sufficient funds to even mend ones leaking roof..
“She has her maid push her round in a bath chair Father, she is a damn cripple,” I snapped.
“Quite comely though,” Mother added, “Anyway she arrives at noon so at the earliest opportunity make her an offer.
I was in a foul mood when Miss Rochester arrived. Her maid helped her from the carriage and into the house. They were far too friendly, I knew worshippers of Lesbos when I saw them and those two were most clearly practitioners of that art.
I made small talk, bored them stupid I hope, and then insisted on taking a stroll around the estate.
Poor Miss Rochester, she nearly fainted walking from the dining room to the entrance hall where her bath chair awaited. Her skin was a deathly pallor like alabaster, “Oh surely you don’t need that contraption do you?” I complained.
“Miss Rochester has a delicate constitution,” her maid insisted.
“Pah, she just needs rigorous exercise to get her blood pumping,” I declared, but the maid insisted on pushing her along at such a speed that tortoises were over taking us. I soon grew weary of pointless chit chat as we dawdled along a footpath towards the woods. “Oh give the chair to me, let us have at least a modicum of excitement!” I snapped.
The maid dutifully allowed me to push and I set off at a run, “Dear lord!” Miss Rochester declared, “Have you gone mad!”
“No, just expressing my zest for life,” I exclaimed.
“Oh well it is rather exciting but be careful the chair sometimes tips,” she warned.
It was too late, with but three wheels and the fore one merely castoring a tree stump undid us completely and Miss Rochester was thrown out to land ignominiously on the grass with her skirts thrown up revealing a pair of surprisingly shapely legs and thighs and equally comely were the other parts on which a Gentleman is not supposed set his eyes.
Parts covered by soft down and framed by the suspender tapes linking her corsets to her stockings.
She lay immobile, stunned.
“Oh my good lord are your all right?” I demanded. I reached for her and tenderly lifted her to turn her over. She lay completely limp and completely still.
I lifted her skirts to hide her parts, and eased her over. “Miss Rochester?” I queried, “Dear God have I killed you?”
I cradled her head and all at once she came to life and grabbed me around the back of the head and drew me down upon her so she could kiss my mouth.
“Are you going to give me the kiss of life?” she giggled.
“Oh my.I thought I had killed you!” I declared.
“Did you like what you saw?” she asked. “I saw you looking up my skirts.”
“I assure you I mean you no ill, I should not under any circumstance take advantage,” I declared.
“Spoil sport,” she replied, “Come on Dawkins will take ages to catch us.”
“What?” I demanded.
“Make love, fornicate, stick your thingy in my thingy,” she ordered, “Before anyone comes!”
“Miss Rochester, you are concussed and not thinking straight,” I insisted.
“Oh, perhaps you did the deed when I was unconscious,” she gasped, “Do you know I feel strange down below, as if a red hot poker has been thrust deep inside me,” she exclaimed.
“Miss Rochester, I assure you my intentions.” I started to say but she had raised her skirts again.
Her fingers were inside her, four of them, “Dear god you are not a virgin!” I declared.
“No, clearly you must have abused me when I was comatose,” she surmised.
“Please believe me when I say I did nothing,” I pleaded.
“Oh I know you didn’t, my maid and I got carried away one evening,” she explained, “But who else will believe you?”
Her quim looked so alluring as she eased her whole hand inside her that my member reared.
“Oh well better be hung for a sheep than a lamb!” I declared and I dropped my breeches.
“I knew you would see sense,” she replied and she slowly extracted her hand and spread her legs in welcome.
“Bloody devious wench,” I snapped as I plunged my length into her waiting hole.
“Oh that’s sooo lovely,” she cooed.
“Actually it is damned pleasant,” I agreed.
“Shall you ask for my hand in marriage or shall you hang as a rapist?” she asked.
“Depends on how you please me,” I declared, “For I could just as easily declare you hit your head and sadly died instantly.”
“Don’t be so silly,” she chided, “You are a young man who needs regular exercise of the carnal kind and I could probably be persuaded to allow you to use me so quite regularly, in addition to which I have a large dowry and.”
“And what?” I asked.
“You are really beautiful,” I confessed, “And I do believe I am falling in love with your member.”
“I shall not lie, you are comely,” I admitted. “ Though not excessively so, but your womb is absolutely first class.”
“Oh Geoffrey you say the sweetest things!” she exclaimed, “So use me, I am not an alabaster bust but a passionate woman!”
“Very well,” I agreed and as I started to thrust harder to ride her to her moment her damned maid arrived.
“Miss Rochester, Miss Rochester, stop!” the maid insisted.
“Go away,” Miss Rochester insisted.
“Does our love mean nothing?” the maid asked plaintively.
“Oh please shut up, Geoffrey has asked me to marry him and I said yes if he actually manages to transport me to heaven.” Miss Rochester replied.
“But what about me!” the maid pleaded.
“Raise your skirts and form a line,” I suggested.
“Your cream is all mine now Geoffrey,” Miss Rochester insisted, “But perhaps I shall lend you to my maid occasionally to keep her content, but for now let us conjoin joyously!”
I winked at the maid, she scowled back at me, I knew I should enjoy sampling her, and then while watching the maid I resumed taking my pleasure.
It was pure bliss, my mind swam in an ocean of pure ecstasy as Miss Rochester moaned and writhed beneath me, occasionally flexing her muscles to rouse me to ever greater heights of passion until I could hold back no more.
Suddenly I expelled with considerable force and all was well with the world.
“Oh you are so passionate,” she exclaimed, “My heart is beating like a drum!”
“I own that was very pleasant,” I agreed, “I could well take a liking for having you to mount whenever the mood takes me.”
“You say the most wonderful things!” she agreed, “But can youn take me with all my frailties and impediments?” she asked.
“My dear as long as you can lay back and spread your legs for me I shall be well content,” I confirmed, “And if you are indisposed no doubt Dawkins will lay for me in your stead.”
“Shall you Dawkins?” Miss Rochester asked anxiously.
“No indeed I shall not,” she asserted robustly.
“I do believe your resolve will weaken,” I suggested, “For it cannot be easy to find a new station when ones liking for the perverse is broadcast throughout polite society.”
“Damn you to hell my Lord!” Dawkins swore.
“Good then we are in accord!” I cried delightedly, “Can you walk or shall I push you in the bath chair?” I asked Miss Rochester.
“I should prefer a kiss,” she replied, “And I would like to walk or perhaps you can carry me, it is not far surely?”
“Not too far, let us see how we get on, Dawkins can push the chair,” I agreed.
We walked slowly back to the house.
“How did you get along?” Mother asked me.
“Very well, she fucks like a dream,” I admitted, “Positively gagging for it Mama.”
“Geoffrey don’t be so crude!” Mother chided.
“Why not,” I asked, “Would you prefer me to enter a loveless marriage and fornicate with the servants like father does?”
“Geoffrey did you tell your Mama our news?” Miss Rochester asked.
“Yes dear, apparently you indulged in rampant fornication on the path to Granton Top.” Mother snapped.
“And Geoffrey asked me to marry him and I agreed.” Miss Rochester replied.
“So he sampled the goods first did he?” Mother asked, “Do you fornicate with all and sundry or just gullible idiots?”
Miss Rochester did what I had wished to do almost every day for the past twenty years, she slapped Mother across her face, “Geoffrey is the first man I have laid for, usually I lay with ladies,” she averred, “Have I shocked you?”
Mother struggled to recover, “I fear you may live to regret making that offer,” she suggested.
“Oh shut up you old hag,” Miss Rochester sighed, “I do believe you are jealous, why not take Dawkins upstairs, she knows how to please a lady, her little fist gives great pleasure.”
“Miss Rochester,” I asked.
“Please, call me Jane, after all we have been rather intimate,” Miss Rochester insisted.
“Shall we retire to my room?” I asked.
“Yes, please.” she replied, “Dawkins, see to the old hag would you, she needs a good fisting.”
Mother looked absolutely furious.
I took Miss Rochester upstairs and do you know I believe Mother took Dawkins up to her room as well.
This time there was no urgency. I unwrapped Miss Rochester layer by layer until she was entirely bare.
She lay naked on the silk sheets on my big four poster bed, just like a willing serving maid but with better styled hair..
I started with her mouth and kissed my way down to her quim via her teats.
Her cheeks were now reddened by her previous excitement, I kissed her mound.
“Geoffrey, stop teasing and put it in me!” she insisted.
“No be patient,” I councilled.
“I don’t want to be patient, I have waited long enough now do something!” she insisted,
So I eased my length slowly into her, “Mmmmm,” she said, “That’s nice, now kiss me and tell me you love me.”
“I love making love to you,” I ventured.
“That will do for now,” she agreed, “Your member is more pliable than Dawkins fist, but the best part is when you fill me with your love.”
“I strive to please,” I replied.
“Then fill me and let us go and spy on Dawkins and your mother!” she giggled.
“Miss Rochester, that is outrageous!” I declared.
“I know, but where is the fun in being good!”
To be continued?
