Anonymous - The Loves of Lord Roxboro

Suddenly he removed her hand from his member and touched it to the bare skin of her thigh. At the hot contact of the flaming object, she gave a gasp. He rubbed it against her leg for a moment and then said, “Lower yourself down on it, my darling,” at the same time grasping her by her hips and attempting to force her to sit upon his rigid prong.

“Oh, uncle! What are you trying to do? Oh, you will hurt me-I can't sit on that thing-it will hurt. Please, uncle, please don't make me do that.” She struggled in a frenzy to escape his grasp.

“Don't be silly,” he growled. “I'm not going to hurt you, child. All I want you to do is to sit on my lap and hold him between your thighs-you could certainly do that much for your uncle.” Pulling the trembling girl downward, he sat her upon his lap, his huge prong between her thighs, its head sticking up in front of her belly. “There now, look at him; doesn't he look funny, though?” laughed her uncle. “Squeeze him tight-that's right; now move just a little bit, up and down-oh, girl, that's delicious!” cried he, nearly beside himself with passion. Kissing her repeatedly, his hands fondling her buttocks and breasts, he slowly worked his hips from side to side as the beautiful girl, by now beginning to pant with passion from this salacious sport, slid her body forward and back slightly, at the same time squeezing His Majesty tightly between her beautiful thighs.

A few moments of this delightful sensation was sufficient for the long-suffering prod. With a sudden convulsive movement, the man strained the beautiful girl to his breast, kissing her madly, his bottom heaving up as though to throw her from him as a gush of hot sperm flew into the air from the head of the rampant cock, descending in a shower on the girl's bare thighs. She jumped and would have arisen from her position, but her uncle restrained her until, his orgasm passed, he relaxed against his easy chair, a smile on his face as he looked into the flushed countenance of his beautiful niece, now rosy with mingled lust and outraged modesty. “Well, that's that,” he said. “But I fear you are slightly messed, my dear.”

“Oh, uncle,” she giggled, as she viewed her legs now inundated with the shower of his sperm. “What nasty, hot sticky stuff that is-oh, I'm all covered.”

“That's all right, my dear; take this towel and wipe yourself off. You'll get to like that stuff; that's love juice and when you get used to it you won't think it's nasty at all.”

The girl took the towel and cleaned her legs and thighs, but made no attempt to arise from her uncle's lap. Her breath was coming in gasps and her skin burned; she was carried away with maidenly passion as the result of the strange goings-on, although she scarcely understood what caused her to be so hot and so filled with strange longings.

His desire only partly satisfied by his recent eruption, the man determined to carry the affair to an immediate conclusion. “Caroline,” he said, “you may now go to your room. Prepare yourself for bed, but do not put on any night clothing; you will receive me naked. I will be in your room as soon as I prepare for bed.” The girl started to remonstrate, but the look on her uncle's face frightened her and she arose without a word and went to her own room.

As she prepared herself for bed, the palpitating girl found herself in a maze of conflicting emotions. The events of the evening had been quite upsetting; like all girls, she had had a rather romantic idea of the relations between man and woman. Coming as she had to her uncle's home with absolutely no notion of any sex relationships, she was hardly prepared for her reception as, for instance, a young bride might have been who was spending her first night with her husband, or even the expectancy that a sweetheart might feel in anticipation of a tryst with a lover. Before arriving, the idea that her uncle might take liberties with her had never entered her head, and due to her sheltered life in the convent she had only the vaguest ideas as to the nature these liberties might take.

Consequently, as she disrobed and took her bath, she was a little dazed as to just what had happened and, more important, what was to happen. She thought upon her uncle's arrival with mingled feelings: fear of what he would do and hope that it would be enjoyable to her. After the first shock to her modesty had somewhat worn off, she was filled with a sort of curious anticipation as to what was in store for her. She dimly realized that ere long her uncle would insert into her maidenly cleft that enormous tool and she felt sure that it would kill her instantly, tearing her tender tissues, utterly rending her. She feared the ordeal, yet feared more the thought of being forced out into a cruel, harsh world with which she was entirely unfamiliar and where she would be the prey to she knew not what strange terrors. She slowly removed her clothing, took her bath, brushed her hair; then, her body burning with fear, shame, and passion, she considered whether she might disobey her uncle to the extent of concealing her body in a nightgown. She feared him, yet felt that his harshness might perhaps be a bit assumed; he was the type of man who would gain his ends, by force if need be, but preferably by persuasion. She decided to put on a nightdress, although she knew she would have to answer for her disobedience when her uncle appeared.

Lord Roxboro, after the girl's departure to her room, retired to his own chamber, which also opened off the library. Undressing himself, he bathed. Taking a stiff drink of a certain cordial that would quickly revive his masculine powers, he slipped into a dressing gown and slippers and stepped to the girl's room.

Opening the door, he discovered the room was in darkness. He groped his way to the dressing table and turned on a small rose-shaded lamp. Looking toward the bed, he discovered that the young lady had crept under the covers, which she had pulled up over her head, and lay there like a hunted thing, drawn up into a bundle, quivering with fear.

Stepping over to the bedside, he slipped off his robe and slippers and, sitting on the edge, pulled down the covers from the shrinking girl's head and shoulders. Noting that she wore a nightgown, he said, “I thought I told you not to put on anything.”

“Yes, uncle, but I am so ashamed-you wouldn't want me to be naked, would you? Please don't be rough with me.”

“Well, no clothes go here tonight,” said he. “Take it off this instant.”

The frightened girl obeyed, slipping the gown down around her shoulders, pulling it down toward her feet, at the same time attempting to keep herself covered by the clothing.

“Here, here, girl,” said he, “let's have done with this foolish modesty,” at the same time throwing the bed clothing downward to the foot of the bed, so that the burning maiden lay upon the sheet, shrunken up into a frightened ball, attempting to hide her nakedness with her gown. His ruthless hand clutched the garment, however, and, giving it a yank, he pulled it off over her feet and cast it to the floor. The naked, blushing girl lay there, burning with outraged modesty.

“Now, Caroline,” said he, “let's have a clear understanding of the situation here. You might just as well make up your mind to it and discontinue this foolish stubbornness. I suppose it is rather embarrassing to you, but you may as well understand that I intend to have you. You may fight if you wish, but it will only make it harder for you. I am stronger than you and will have you either with your consent or without it. If you continue as you have done, I will not only force you, but will then throw you and your sister out upon the street. You might just as well be sensible about it.”

“Yes, uncle,” said the quivering girl. “But please, uncle, promise me you won't hurt me, oh, please don't hurt me. I know what you are going to do and you will kill me, I know it will kill me-I simply couldn't stand it.”