Miss Hanson had just begun to realise what an unenviable situation her fathers profligacy and lies had led her into. The year was 1890 and I was just 25 and ascending the ladder as a lawyer and sometime bailiff on which duty I was engaged today.
“The fact is your father has no equity remaining Miss Hanson,” I explained as she sat in my office after usual office hours that evening, “His properties are mortgaged, twice, three times over in some cases, and Mr Rainforth having foreclosed upon the primary mortgage due to non payment of the sum due last month, no sorry, the one from two months ago and the last one, has brought the whole pack of cards tumbling down so to speak.”
She looked at me with her big doe eyes and lied,
“Oh, I had absolutely no idea!” she said, “How did he?”
“Gambling I am afraid," I explained, “He bet more and more trying to recoup his losses and eventually ran out of money and friends prepared to lend him money and the patience of his creditors.”
“Oh,” she sighed, “So where does that leave me?” she asked, “I’m not of age yet”.
“Destitute, your father even owns the clothes you stand up in so they will have to be sold,” I explained, “But you are of marriageable age surely?”
“Twenty, needing parental consent to marry, not twenty and one yet.” she assured me.
I looked at the outline of her perfect breasts and the way they were framed by her cleavage, her sweet lips, her kissable neck and I sighed, what a waste
“Do you get a warped perverted satisfaction from hounding innocents like myself and mama for monies we do not have?” she asked.
“Well now you ask I do,” I said, “Many a destitute fine lady has sold her honour for fifty guineas, sometimes to a loathsome old gentleman, and in this role I do find myself in the driving seat so to speak and ready to make the first offer.”
“And how many ladies’ honour have you purchased?” she asked.
“I am not one to gossip or boast,” I lied, “But an evening at the Opera after a fine dinner, then home to a rampant all night rogering ending with fifty guineas handed over is a god send to some young ladies.”
“God send to you,” she said nastily.
“Absolutely, and often that fifty guineas is gone before they know and only the streets and workhouse beckon, and the streets are bearable only when Gin tempers the pain.” I explained, “Much better to save the money and enter a bordello where at least you have a bed in which to fornicate, and a Madame to look after you, obviously you have no choice in whom you are entered by, and of course some whipping and binding will be your lot, but ladies can prosper in such environs.”
“Oh lord, you are actualy serious, you are not jesting,” she exclaimed. “Good lord."
I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed me away. “Do not push me away I am trying to help.” I explained, “Now reax and let me help you,” I suggested and I reached down her cleavage and scooped both her breasts from their hiding place. They fell free of her gown as nature intended
“There that’s nicer is it not, having your boobies out not constrained,” I opined. I caressed her nipples and they stiffened, excited and then I kissed her ear, “You shall have such fun when you conjoin.”
“Money first,” she insisted and she struggled to put her boobies back in her bodice.
“I didn’t mean with me, I meant at the Bordello,” I explained.
“So is my honour not worth fifty pounds?” she demanded.
“And more but that was my best estimate,” I ventured.
“What if I say one hundred?” she asked
“A woman after my own heart,” I laughed, “But no, though I own you could have fifty guineas this very evening if you so wish,” I explained, “Here.” I opened the drawer, eleven crisp five pound notes, “Keep the change.”
She stared wide eyed, “Take it, deposit it in your bank.” I suggested
“I dare not for they might seize it to pay father’s debts, can you keep it for me?” she said.
“Dear god no, that would be perceived as living off immoral earnings, I might go to jail.” I explained.
“I want you to be my banker not my, er,” she said.
“Pimp is the word you are seeking, a man who lends out his whore to other men for fornicatory purposes,” I explained.
“I should rather slit my throat than succumb to some disgusting old man.” she advised.
“No, don’t be rash, the thought is worse than the act, once the deed is done once I am reliably informed it becomes a pleasant habit quite addictive in fact." I explained.
“And will you take my honour, or will you sell it on to someone ese at a profitt?" she asked
“I wish you no harm. in fact my sap is rising, we can have the deed done directly," I explained, “Would you prefer to undress or should I strip you naked forcibly and tie you up, I can cut your clothes off if it helps you feel that you have no choice but to submit.
“No, No, I can not submit to you.” she declared, “I have no feelings for you.”.
“But your boobies responded to me,” I reminded her, “I’ll wager your conch is moistened, I can tie you up so you cannot resist. I can tie you wrist to ankle if you like so I can spread your legs to mount you?”
“No!” she said.
“Take you boobies out again,” I requested, “Let us see how aroused they are.”
“No!” she replied.
“Ten guineas,” I offered, “Just to sit with your boobies out for a while.” I proffered two five pound notes and she offered no resistance as I extracted her boobies again, “You must be very proud of them do they have names?”
“Yes but it’s a secret,” she admitted.
“Is your conch moist?” I asked.
“No!” she insisted,
“Show me,” I demanded.
“Twenty guineas,” she demanded, “To see no more.”
“Agreed,” I agreed and she stood and slipped her floor length gown from her shoulders letting it fall to show her underskirt which she raised. She wore no pantaloons or similar for with such long skirts a lady could scarce pull any knickerbockers of similar up let alone tie the waist cord.
Her conch glistened moistly from among a tangle of curls, they should have to go but for now it pleased me. I knelt before her and began to lick the moistened slot. Her nub stirred instantly, “Look I said, Just.”
“No I cannot,” she pleaded quietly, uncertainly.
“I know,” I reassured her, “It is frightening the first time you lose control of your body, when your head screams stop but your conch craves more and more until sated with a good dose of cock juice.”
“Look you have had your money’s worth,” she said. I nibbled her nub and then with her mind elsewhere I opened her conch wings with my fingers and drove my thumb inside.
“I own you, you are a woman now,” I explained and as my fingers now explored I moved my lips to her breasts.
“You unspeakable cad,” she muttered but my fingers inside her and my thumb caressing her nub had her full attention and then oh so sweetly she had her first orgasm.
She looked so confused, shocked by the pleasure and like a cad, I lowered my trousers and as her pleasure subsided I delivered the coup de grace with my member, easing between the wings of her conch and sweeping away every last vestige of her maidenhead.
My member fitted her like a glove and visions of her belly swelling with my child filled my mind, quite different to wanting to try other positions. I put such nonsense from my mind but then found myself kissing her lips as we conjoined.
A tremendous weight descended on my mind, I had to make this moment perfect for Miss Hanson as, and so it is widely believed, one never forgets one’s first time.
My moment came all too soon, I expelled into a purple haze aware vaguely of her gasping with pleasure and then I looked at her, her hair displaced, sweating but sated and wondered is she the one?
I knew little about her, should I deliver her to the brothel or take her to dinner to get to know her? The solution came in a flash.
“My dear Miss Hanson, would you do me the honour of becoming my slave?” I asked
“No,” she insisted, “You took my honour, you owe me eighty guineas.”
“And Eighty Guineas you shall have, and free bed and board, clothing and an allowance,” I offered.
“Why not forget the money and marry me,” she suggested, “I own it was not as uncomfortable as I thought, very pleasant in fact, but not something I should wish to do all evening.”
“No, I have no intention of so doing,” I explained, “We enjoyed a dalliance no more, you shall have thousands more in years to come, the life of a whore is one of continual pleasure.”
“I should never have succumbed,” she admitted, “I feel dirty, ashamed, how shall I face Mama, I own had I a paper knife I should slit my throat."
“There is one on my desk,” I pointed out and she burst into floods of tears.
I put my arms around her, “Don’t cry,” I said softly, “Oh you silly goose, you’ll soon get to love showing your body, having gentlemen choose you above other women, you’ll love it.”
“I hate you,” she snapped but her conch said the contrary as I laid her down spread the wings of her conch and calmed her with my member.
I thought a while, “I can not be faithful to you,” I explained, “No one woman can sate my lusts, but I own Mama and Pater would heartily approve of you, so maybe if you can accept that.”
“Five guineas a night until we are wed,” she demanded.
“Agreed” and we tried to shake hands which in not easy when my member was still deep inside her.
