Part 1. The Awakening
TRUE! - nervous - very, very lustily nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am aroused? The feeling had sharpened by senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all the things in the bedroom and in the hall. I heard many things in the basement as well. How, then, am I aroused? Hearken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my mind (perhaps it was not my mind which first conjured the desire); but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was much. I loved the young man, or at least my tender young mind believed it thoroughly. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult and his rumored fortune, albeit small by city standards, were certainly a welcome perk.
I had recently begun to feel an awareness between my thighs that confused me at first but which grew gradually until it would not be ignored. Raised a clean and upstanding young woman a chaste mind and a purity of body beyond reproach or suspicion were of utmost importance given my meager station in society, a mere house maid born to household servants. My mother and late father made it clear what was expected from the time I expressed my first early and innocent questions about that most basic of human desires that tied us still to the baser creatures from which we strove so ardently to distance ourselves. As the subtleties of womanhood flourished from my girlish figure I grew at first more awkward and then learned a practiced grace that I secretly knew caused a few men to stare longer than they ought, though in my naΓ―vetΓ© I really did not understand or anticipate the true effect and would only impishly smile about it, no doubt adding somewhat to the overall effect. None of this was helped by my inability to fit properly the dresses and feminine accouterments my mother or sisters were able to pass on, as I was both more lithe and well favored in bust than they had been, leading to a little more heaving exposure than I recognized at first, though I may have been the only one not to notice.
I think it was his eyes. Yes, it was this! He had the eyes of a greek god - deep blue eyes, with an intensity in it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold, pulled in a rush down to engorge my nethermost regions so that I began to be aware of the cloth in its tightness and texture as I moved. The sensation was new, was distracting, was pleasant, but I didn't focus on it long. And so by degrees - very gradually - I made up my mind to take the man and somehow rid myself of this tortuous and hot swelling forever.
Now this is the point. You may fancy me mad. A mad woman knows nothing, but you should have seen me. You should have seen how meticulously I proceeded - with what caution - with what foresight - with what dissimulation I went to work. I was never such a tease with the rippling young man than during the whole week before I lured him to my chamber. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it - oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed that no light shone out and then I thrust in my head. Oh you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly - very, very slowly, so that I mist not disturb his lurid dreams. It took me a whole hour to place my head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed, taught skin glistening in the narrow rays of moonlight as they shone through the window, outlining perfection, highlighting my lust for his hard and wondrous body, watching for the swelling that would undoubtedly grow through the night and arise with mind and vigor of its own beneath the thread-bare sheet he loosely clutched, though I found it always covered, only a hint of the outline traced in the pressure against the bedding so that I was sure I could imagine its size, the vague nature of the shape revealing itself ever so slightly in the dim light to my eager eyes.
And every morning I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke with a smirk on my lips and a gleam in my eyes, transfixed on his then let them drop slowly along his beautiful form as he raised himself from his slumbering position, innocently unaware of the view it granted me now in the light. The ever veiled form becoming ever better known to my gaze, all the while remaining ignorant of my nightly watch upon his perfect body as he slept...
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door, my nerves compelling a beat in my chest and a heat within my breast as I crept so carefully into the room, further than I before had dared. A watch hand moved more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own womanly powers, of my sensuality, welling up inside me as it had not previously done, the full power of my feminine eagerness seeping into my vulva and aching as the warmth radiated, yearning so extensively for more that it was all I could do to focus on the task at hand, though as yet the feeling was still not fully defined as such in my conscious awareness, however intense it had become. I fed the feeling just the same and relished in the added intensity of the experience.