Jacquie Dew's Adventures

Master desires chronicle of his slave's adventures and fantasies. Therefore this girl sits alone before her computer, staring at the screen, waiting for the words to come.

She wishes to find the way to frame her adventures so that it might please master to read them. She thinks, perhaps, it is best to begin as all stories do. Near the beginning.

This girl is born to the name of Jacquelyne D'Monnet, to simple farmer people. She leads an uneventful childhood, behaving always as expected and always as her parents wish.

Slowly, though, as her body grows, she begins to experience strange yearnings. She knows of sex, for she has grown on the farm and has set the stallion among the mares for breeding. It seems an animalistic, bestial thing to her, and it frightens her.

Others begin to notice the changes in her body, the boys around her. Luc is a boy who lives nearby, she sees him every Sunday at his father's sermons. He seems a gentle boy and friendly. She does not suspect what he is thinking when he asks to walk her home.

They walk quietly; she is counting the footsteps wondering what he is thinking. His eyes are dark and brooding, he opens his mouth as if to speak but then says nothing, only sneaking glances at her as they walk. He stops by a tree, saying, "I have an idea" gesturing for her to follow him into the woods.

He is full of excitement, glancing at her again and again as they walk further into the woods. He takes her hand in his own sweaty palm, pausing at a fallen tree. He smiles shyly to her and whispers "You're eighteen today, right?"

She nods, sitting on the log, wondering still what he is thinking that has him so excited. He grabs her suddenly and kisses her, pushing her back against the log, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She resists for a moment, confused, but he pulls her close, running his hands over her body.

She thinks as she begins to enjoy it, that it must be wrong, that her parents would not approve. She says something but he silences her, reaching back to fumble with her bra, pulling her shirt off. She watches curiously, feeling a little embarrassed. He reaches out, tweaking a nipple, smiling as she cries out.

His other hand goes up her skirt, pushing aside her wet panties. "I know you like it." She says nothing. His fingers explore for a moment; flicking at the tender bud she herself has only recently discovered is a center for guilty pleasure. Her eyes close and her head falls back, her knees parting for him.

Carefully he pulls off her skirt and her panties, holding her legs apart, just looking for a long moment. On his knees, he slowly moves forward. He sniffs curiously then puts out his tongue, gently teasing. She whimpers a little, knowing it is bad but not wanting to say so. With his fingers he parts the folds while his tongue explores, gentle, curious.

He stops when her body begins to tense, thinking she is upset with him. She is confused, flustered. She says nothing as he hands her clothes to her. He watches her dress, then takes her hand and they continue the walk toward home.

Neither of them speaks of this.

Time passes. She things of that day often and wishes sometimes that he hadn't stopped. Other times she is glad.

There is a dance at his father's church, and they go together. They are dancing too close to the slow song. His body is warm; she feels his penis rubbing against her belly like a kitten asking to be petted. She pretends not to notice as he pulls her closer, whispering in her ear. She blushes but nods.

He goes to the punch table, taking two glasses, then finds her waiting in the hallway. He sets the glasses down and takes her by the hand, leading her further away. They find a dark room where they know they will not be found.

Impatiently he fumbles his pants open. She pushes his hands out of the way, wanting to do it herself, wanting to touch it… She trembles as she moves to kneel between his feet, his pants a puddle around his ankles. Her hand strokes, murmuring that it feels like silk to her. "It tastes better." He says. She does not ask how he knows, but moves to taste, flicking her tongue across the head, exploring the slit. Her thumb rubs against the dark vein curiously. She takes it into her mouth slowly.

He grabs her by the hair, directing her, showing her the motions that will bring him pleasure. She enjoys it, learning. His hand relaxes as the rest of him tenses, exploding without warning into her mouth. She does not hesitate or pause, immediately swallowing it. She likes it, and she wants more.

There is a sound of someone coming and he pushes her away, rushing to arrange himself. They sit with red faces, waiting to be caught, but no one comes. She giggles a little. He grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her against the wall, kissing her, his hand reaching up under her skirt.

She does not resist; she leans against the wall with her feet apart. She bites her lip to stifle whimpers as his fingers slip inside her and he leans down to suckle at her breasts, biting lightly at the nipples through fabric. His other arm presses her into the wall.

He stops again as her body tenses, watching her with his dark eyes. He smiles at the expression, the need she is not afraid to show him. "I want to taste again." She nods as he pushes the skirt up around her waist and tosses her panties into the corner.

One hand presses against her belly, holding her against the wall as he pushes her thighs apart. Her hands go to his shoulders, gripping at them, nails digging as his tongue drives her quickly over the brink. She manages, barely, to stay silent.

A shadow moves in the darkness behind them, she notices through half-lidded eyes, but it does not seem important.

(to be continued)