Woman of the House

I waited in my night rail in Horace's room as he and the boys attended the nightly business of locking in the pigs, oxen, horses, and chickens and making sure everything was put away. My mind kept returning to what I saw that afternoon.

I was still innocent, no matter that I was expected to whore myself to my mother's husband and his sons. I doubted, even with the curling, pleasurable heat that swirled up my limbs at the thought of that blissful look on Horace's face as he manipulated himself that I could achieve even a little bit of pleasure. I was a woman, yes, I was of age to marry, but it was sinful for a woman to like her wifely duties. If those duties weren't done in the sanctity of marriage, that made the woman a whore. That's what Ma had told me.

"Ma was a liar." There! I said it out loud. She had run off with a traveling salesman and left me to do things with her man in her place. I didn't doubt one whit that what Horace had told me wasn't true. Ma had left, knowing that I would have to pay my way.

"She was that, gal." Horace said from the doorway. He had made an effort to wash, I could tell from the damp at his collar and his shiny face. He had left the curtain open and I saw the boys behind him, both watching me avidly, even though my nightgown covered more than my day clothes did.

Ruben ran a hand down the length of his member over his trousers. I could feel my face heat as he mouthed, "Tomorrow."

Josh just smirked. I suppose they all had it worked out, my whoring schedule. First I'd service Horace, then the eldest, Ruben, then Josh. My face heated at the thought of what they would be thinking as their father took my maidenhead that night. I wondered what they would think of me when they each took me the subsequent nights and beyond.

I didn't have any illusions. Soiled doves weren't valued. They were used and discarded.

Horace looked over his shoulder and barked, "Get to bed, both of you! Yer sister's nervous enough."

He closed the curtain to the room and I shuffled my feet, heart racing, poised to run. He sat on the bed and started fussing with his wooden shirt buttons. I backed against the rough, pine-plank wall, watching as he slid his suspenders down. His shirt lay open, exposing a sun-burnished patch of skin and a smattering of light hair. He leaned to take off his boots, grunting with the effort, and immediately the sound made me remember when the liquid shot out of him. I knew it was the stuff that made babies, the boys had told me when they caught me watching the pigs, but I didn't know what it was called.

Once Horace was done, he stood and removed his shirt. He looked at me, hard a hungry. "Climb onto the bed girl. You can't do your duty from over there."

I skirted around him, aware that the lantern now threw my bare legs into relief under the single layer of muslin that made up my nightclothes. I climbed under the blanket and pulled it up to my chin. He ordered, "Take off that damned nightgown."

I did, drawing the blanket up over my head so that he couldn't see the flush staining my cheeks. When I heard him blow out the lamp, I peeked out. He was standing there outlined in moonlight, his member jutting from his body proudly. He sighed and then eased under the covers himself. "Yer ma said you was untouched. Is that true?"

He shifted so that he was leaning over me, not close enough to touch me, but I could feel the heat of his body.

"I-i... please, don't do this. I'll do anything...," I babbled before he closed the gap between us. His lips met mine, silencing me. I waited for the violence he had shown me before when he kissed me, but this one was different than before, less overpowering and angry.

He seemed to taste me, running his tongue over my lips, taking his time. He pushed his tongue inward finally, and I gasped at the sensation as he opened my mouth to his. He lazily explored my teeth and tongue, and suddenly I found myself shyly savouring him too. He tasted of tooth powder, tobacco and cherries. As I tentatively explored this new closeness, he slid against me, his member hot and hard on my thigh. I felt him fumble with its shrouded mushroom head, pulling on it like he did just that afternoon, and a moan filled my throat, ripped from my mouth. He was going to put that in me, and I knew that, daughter of Eve that I was, I was going to like it more than I should show.

"You must be a virgin, else you'd not complain so prettily," He said when he finally broke the kiss, leaving me restless and wanting something more. His hand moved to my hair, down my neck, and then to my breast which was almost aching with the undefined need that filled me. I bit back an oath as I felt my traitorous body needing his touch.

He slid the work-roughened pad of his thumb over my nipple and I hissed into the silence at the sensation. He kissed my neck, suckling on the flesh there at the base of it, his hips moving his manhood against me roughly. A trail of moisture trickled from that head to my own skin, leaving coolness as he moved away. He paused then slid lower in the bed, breaking contact with my neck, only to slide down to my breasts. His tongue replaced his hand, and I felt him draw my nipple up with his teeth, nipping lightly before he stopped completely. "You taste so good. I want to fuck you right now, but... I don't want you to hate it, gal."

"Please, Pa..." I tried to appeal to him, tried to stop the heady rush of sensation as his fingers drifted lower into my nether curls and found that secret spot that until then had only been touched by me. He parted my folds, now embarrassingly damp, and slid first one, then two fingers inside me. He stretched my flesh to aching want with the maddening sawing motion of his two, blunt fingers. He looked at me the entire time, his eyes heavy-lidded over those startlingly blue irises. My breath hitched as he licked his lips. I wondered, with his face so close... if he would...kiss me... there. The thought made wet heat drip from me where he had opened my secret place. I squirmed restively against his hand, wanting him to stop, but wanting more, nonetheless.

He slowly worked those two fingers in until he was buried knuckle deep. He whispered against my neck, "Fu—ck, gal! You're tight."

I closed my eyes, I told myself it was to hide my shame, as his movements caused me to widen my legs, made me want more of... something. He shifted lower, the ropes of the bed creaking under his weight as he moved between my legs. I clamped my legs together. "No! Please..."

"Gal, what're you afraid of?" His fingers worked again as he pried my legs apart. He brought the calloused thumb of his other hand into play, pressing that little button of sodden flesh with the same rhythm as he plied with his other hand. "You're giving me a gift that I won't ever be able to repay."

He bent, throwing the covers off me completely and before I realized what he meant to do, put his lips on that button, suckling it like a babe would a breast. I cried out at the sensation that ripped through me. I wanted more. When I pleaded with him again, it was a sobbing sound and even I didn't know what I meant, "Please, Pa! Please!"

He plied his tongue, opening my slick lips with it, plunging into the depths, licking up to the top and back down. My legs shook as I spun higher, out of control, mouthing nonsense sounds as he brought me to the pinnacle I had only reached by myself before. I arched into his mouth, rode his crude tongue; I writhed against his face, wanting more, more, more!

Just as suddenly as he had started, he stopped, rising to his knees. I cried out at the loss of his heat on me. He gave me a secretive smile as he grasped his member which glistened in the light of the moon. Would he treat me to the same thing he had done this afternoon? Would he jerk himself until that thick, ropy liquid shot out of him again? He said into the silence, "You taste just like that cherry pie you like to make. Sweet and tart."

He kissed me again, smearing my face with my own sweet juices. I had never tasted myself after those times I touched. It was wrong, I had thought, but here he was, opening my mouth, making me taste my own juice after he had done the same to me. I couldn't stop the moan that again tore from my throat.

He stroked himself and broke our heated kiss to say, "Give me yer hand, I want you to touch me."

He didn't wait for me to react to his command. He pulled my right hand up and fisted it over his member. It was silky and hard as he stroked my hand up and down on it. When we reached the tip, he would drag his thumb over the mushroom head or it, smearing the liquid on it each time. My own ragged breaths tore from me as loud at his. He finally said, "I'm going to fuck you now, gal. It'll probably hurt at first, because you're so damned tight."

I tensed then, but he pulled me down in the bed, my legs now hooked over his thighs. He leaned over me and gave a soft hiss as my dampness met his hardness. He spread me with his fingers, a small smile on his face, and before I knew what he was getting at, he pushed his manhood into me.

It wasn't much, and it really didn't hurt. I merely felt full where he was. He backed out again, running that slick head up over my nubbin, pressing into it before sliding it back down and into me again. He went further this time and the fullness was worse, bordering on an ache. He slid back out, and as I looked at him, I could see that he was as heavy-lidded as he had been this afternoon right before he spurted. He pushed into me again, this time all the way and I felt a slight tearing along with the fullness. It ached where he had gone, but not in a bad way. I waited as he grimaced. "Your cunt is... so good... so tight..."

He began thrusting in earnest, each time filling me, spreading my legs wider as he pounded into me. The spiralling feeling that I had felt when he kissed me down there returned and when he bottomed out in me I felt a sharp pain that had a lot to do with pleasure. His movements became more frantic and my breasts jiggled in rhythm. I tried to cover myself, embarrassed by the motion, but he hissed, "Don't you fucking dare! I wanna see what I'm doing to you. All of it."

That command twisted in me, made me flush both hot and cold and soon all I could think of was the fullness of him in me, the feel of his thighs as they flexed, the steady pull of my flesh on him as he plowed me. His face spasmed almost like he was in pain, and he gave a hoarse groan. Before I knew what he was doing, he pulled out and spilled on my belly in hot arcs of liquid. He rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in soft chuffs, his skin slick with sweat.

After a few minutes he moved off the bed and left the room, his bared skin catching the moonlight as he moved. The liquid was cooling on my skin even as the heat and need I felt in my guts twisted in me. I needed something that I couldn't name, and I thought I knew how to get it. As wanton as it was, I slid my hand down to that bit of flesh he had licked, and touched myself, this time sliding a finger in what he had called my cunt. I was so intent on chasing that clasping, tightening pleasure that I didn't realize he had returned until I felt him sink onto the bed.

I pulled my hands away like he had slapped them. "I'm sorry. I know it's wrong, Pa. I won't..."

I hadn't really looked at his face until then. What I saw there, the avid hunger, the rampant lust, made me want to plunge my hands back down and fling myself over the edge of that pleasure. He finally said, "I brought you a rag so you can wash... the blood and spunk away, but I think I want to see you finish what you were doing first."

I turned my face away, shocked. He wanted to see me do...that...to myself? When Ma had caught me one time, she had told me never to do it again. Why would....

"Touch yerself now, gal." His tone was warning. I wondered what he would do if I didn't. He'd spanked me once when we first came to live with them. He'd done it with a belt with me over his lap. When I had squirmed after the first swing, I remembered hearing him grunt. He'd had a strange look on his face too. Ma hadn't been happy about him hitting me, but she'd let him. After he was through with the spanking, she'd taken him outside to the barn and raised holy heck with him. That's what the boys had told me, anyway. They'd been awfully pleased about it too. He hadn't touched me again, at least not until tonight.

Reluctantly I slid my hands back down. Sure he'd think I was a whore now, I tried to keep him out of my mind by closing my eyes. Soon, I felt him moving closer. He told me, "Go faster. Put two fingers in that tight little hole of yours."

I did and was embarrassed to hear a sloppy sucking sound as I plunged my fingers in and out. I was near, so near, to completing what he started when I felt the bed begin shaking. I knew he was stroking himself too. I opened my eyes to slits to see him, he had that look of concentration and excitement so near to pain on his face. I almost stopped just so I could watch him shoot his juices again but my own explosion was nearing and I continued to fuck myself with my fingers, chasing the clasping sensation in that hole he had just filled with his cock moments before.

Before I could finish my work, he shoved my hands out of the way roughly. He replaced my fingers with his cock, which slid into me as slick as if I'd been buttered. I quaked under his onslaught as he bored me into the mattress with his sharp hips and brutal thrusts. After a moment, he slowed and seemed to get himself under control. He grabbed my hips with bruising force, moving me up and down until I couldn't help but move on my own, loving the slick drag of his flesh inside mine. His cock felt thicker to my sensitized flesh, if that was possible, and the coil of tension spread in me until I thought I would go crazy. He pushed his hand between us and found my nubbin. He flicked it with his rough finger, and I cried out as I spun out of control. I felt my muscles clamping on him and just as quickly, he gave a hoarse shout. I could actually feel him spurt into me, against the walls of my womb, boiling out of me.

We lay there for a while, tangled in each other, wet from all we had done. Finally, he raised enough to let me out from under him. He fumbled on the bed until he shoved the wet piece of towelling into my hand. "Here's that rag. Wash up now. I'll want to taste you more after I get some rest."

With those words, he rolled over and went to sleep.

Later that night he took me from behind, dragging my hips up in the air, parting me with his cock. He fucked me so hard my head hit the wall, and didn't let up until he tore a screaming cry of completion from me. He took me again in the early morning before he rose, this time from the side, my leg over his hips. I barely woke as I felt his spasms put more fluid inside me. Before he got up in the gray, before dawn light, he cleaned me again with his tongue, causing me to give a hoarse shout as his morning beard dragged against my sore flesh. He rubbed it further up, rasping that nubbin with it until I screamed, bucking against his face, smearing him with my juices.

He kissed me quiet again, my taste filled with his juices, bitter and salt added to my musky tartness. It made me feel slightly ashamed that I liked the taste of what we had done together. After I lay sated and silent, he rose finally, saying, "You were a good girl last night. Get some sleep. I'll get breakfast for the boys and me."