"The Golden Thread" - "Victoria" ITV Erotic Fanfiction - Chapter Four
Victoria’s wedding night looms. Unschooled in love and afraid, who else would she turn to but her mentor in all things, her beloved Lord Melbourne? USUAL DISCLAIMERS APPLY
Icon credit: my_golden_boots
Lord Melbourne pulled cushions from the armchair and piled them under Victoria’s shoulders. He looked at her for a long moment, this perfect doll flushed with embarrassment and arousal, lying there waiting for him to instruct her, to love her. It flashed over him for the first time - the pain of knowing he would not be able to take her. He would never feel the embrace of her cushioned depths, never find himself thrusting with abandon while she moaned beneath him. It was not the only thing he liked about carnal love but to think it was forbidden was like a chain about his spirit. A beast he had not known lived within him suddenly raged and he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the surge.
The man won the battle. He opened his eyes and told himself, Bring your full attention to her. He smiled and kissed her forehead to dispel the touch of anxiety that fluttered there then kissed her mouth once again. As he did so, his hand sought her breast, slowly rolling it inside the modesty of her nightgown.
Consuming as her yielding kisses were, he soon found he could not ignore the drama elsewhere. Something was jutting against his hand. He shifted his attention and there it was, making the faintest bulge in the cotton: the hard centre of her lovely breast. He moved his hand, pushing through the gap in the neck of her nightgown and into that den of warmth and silk. His fingers found the peak and rolled it gently.
Victoria gave a shrill cry and quivered. So strong a response - stronger than he had ever known. So charming, the way her body knew what it wanted though her mind resided in oblivion. He propped himself up on his elbow as he told her, “Here is another of the signals that tell a man a woman is ready for him - the hardened teat. There have been times in everyday life when I have noticed this swollen flesh pushing out a woman’s clothing and whenever I have, there has been a galvanic surge in my loins. Yes, this and the heaving chest and the wetness and the flushed skin and the parted lips. These are the ways a woman tells a man what she needs.”
All signals now in full flourish, Victoria breathed, “William, you are so sweet, your mouth is so sweet. Will you? Is it too much to ask?” Her tongue still would not form the words but her meaning was clear as her chest heaved upwards.
For a moment, he looked at her quizzically. Did she truly believe he would refuse? There was something in her manner that suggested it was true. With each new thing he taught her, she would have to be convinced that he was not doing it simply for her benefit but that he took pleasure in it himself. With a loving smile, he allowed his head to sink between her breasts. Nudging flimsy cotton to one side, he revealed an apple breast with an upright pip in the centre. He ran his tongue across it then suckled as much of it into his mouth as he could accommodate, tongue pulsing against the teat.
That keening sound again. And this time, her lower quarters bucked. It was useful to know she was the kind of woman who sported a direct connection between her breasts and her quim. He brought his left hand into play, massaging her other breast in time with his sucking.
He nursed so long, enjoying the comfort, enjoying the building tension in both their bodies, he forgot where he was. It had been so long since he had indulged himself with a woman. Oh, he had needs like other men but since his wife left him, he had only hired the occasional tart. He paid them handsomely but the congress had been functional only - a bending of them over the furniture, a brief commotion as he struggled to find their notch amongst a chrysanthemum explosion of layers and frills, and a short fuck, the only part Lord Melbourne found truly satisfactory being his climax. How he had missed the opportunity to use his mouth, his fingers! As if in a dream, his head wandered over to the other breast, fingers pushing up the flesh ready to meet his open mouth.
But sitting at her side and bending over her was not the cleverest way to do this, he decided. He shifted until they lay parallel, some of the weight of his body pressing down upon her as he nuzzled between her breasts.
“Oh!” Little hands settled on his shoulders, half clasping him to her, half pushing him away.
“Am I too heavy for you, Victoria? You are but a mite. Tell me if I am and I shall do this differently.”
“No. You are not too heavy. But the weight of you has made me recognise the power you wield over me. It is quite overwhelming.”
He moved up so they were face-to-face and he stroked her round cheek. So round, such a lunar face nestled in the midnight sky of her dark locks. His head tilted to the side. “Be assured, I shall never use that power against you. I am yours to command, my Queen.”
Those chary fingers moved up to his face and tapped his cheekbones lightly, as if afraid they would cut her. They danced at his temple and from there pushed into his hair.
“Touch me, if you wish to touch me,” he whispered. “You cannot offend me. I treasure the gentle touch of women.” He took that hand for a moment and kissed the fingers before returning it to its chosen arena. The rhythmic movements against his scalp soothed him. He had not been aware he required soothing. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a sigh. When he opened them again, he caught her eye with a serious look. His right hand moved down once more to touch her nether regions. “I shall not penetrate you, Victoria. As I promised. You shall remain virgo intacta. See how my fingers do naught but play?” This time, he pushed his hand under her nightgown and touched her bare skin. There was hair, the puffy lips of a young woman’s quim and only a little moisture. So like a virgin. They did not get as wet as they did once they had been opened. To feel any small gush of virgin excitement was a privilege indeed.
“I trust you, dearest William,” she said as her cool hand caressed his brow.
“Cherub - there is something I would very much like to show you. I would love you with all my body. May I?”
Her eyes were brilliant with tears. “Yes.”
She had very little idea to what she was agreeing, of course. That curve in her upper lip seemed more prominent then than it had before, reminding him of the way she had pouted defensively in the early days of their acquaintance. The tiniest of sneers, it had seemed, favouring the right side of her generous mouth only. He kissed it, that curve to the right, in a way that told her it was time to put away a doubtful pout. Running his hands down her sides and kissing along the midline of her body as he went, Lord Melbourne made his way south until his broad shoulders pressed Victoria’s knees apart and he arrived at that place he never imagined he would see. The angle of her legs as they trembled in the firelight made it a mysterious land. He needed more than that. “Open your legs for me,” he insisted, rubbing his cheek against her inner thigh and applying light pressure as he spoke. “Yes. Part your legs.”
Mewling in her modesty, she still obeyed.
Lord Melbourne stared. For a long time, it seemed he would do nothing but stare with the strangest expression - eyes hooded, lips parted. Then he smiled the way he had smiled so many times before bowing to kiss Victoria’s hand, except this time, he bowed to…
She jerked at the strange sensation: so precise, so keen, yet so ephemeral - the pitter-patterings of a mouse loose between her thighs.
He used his thumbs to part her lightly-furred lips and there was her pearl. Such a tiny thing, still pale and tucked away inside its shell. It was hard to believe the small movements he would make would be enough to bring her joy yet more than one woman had told him so. He blew on it and across it, made a zephyr dance in circles around it. He had made up his mind earlier in the day that he would focus on her pearl. His wife, Caroline, had insisted that a girl feels all her pleasure there until she has been made a woman. Certainly, she had played the girl often, holding Lord Melbourne’s head so his lips remained glued to her fiery spot and bucking, bucking.
This was quite different. This shy thing needed to be coaxed. He placed the flat of his tongue upon it then circumscribed it languorously, anticipating that moment when it would stand proud against his tongue. And there it was! A little crowing bantam. Lord Melbourne suckled on it, devoted.
Beyond the frame of her knees, the frill of her nightgown, he could see Victoria’s head tossing, the mounds of her breasts rising and falling. As he had promised, he would show her all her body could feel without taking her yet he could not resist sliding his tongue lower and tasting her entrance. He pressed her inner lips apart just a tiny amount, releasing the pocket of honey her tight quim had retained. He lapped at it, savouring this pure anointing - the fresh flow of a virgin. He felt as if this liquor might penetrate his very being, revitalise him. Just for an instant, he allowed his tongue to press in deep until it met resistance. A sharp jerk told him the membrane his tongue had glanced across surely was her maidenhead. A shudder passed through him, too, and he was forced to take a moment to compose himself. He was such a large man to be so undone by such a fragile thing. He reached up a hand and laid it on her pliant belly, moving it in slow circles - a belly that had neither swollen with child nor shivered in ecstasy. Was every part of this woman’s body infinitely precious? Lord Melbourne opened his mouth wide and drew in as much of her rosy flesh as he could. He might not be the first to ravish her but he was determined to make her first ecstasy his.
Looking up, he saw Victoria was looking back down at him. Her jaws shuddered as if voicing a thousand small ‘oh’s and her forehead was strained. “How do you know how to pleasure me like that? How can you know, how can you possibly know?”
“Whatever I do not know,” he said, “teach me.” The hand on her belly reached up farther and clasped the small breast that lay half in, half out of her yawning nightgown. It was as if Lord Melbourne sought her breast as an anchor to a reality that was fast disappearing as he lost himself in her.
Victoria’s hands moved to where they should be, one laid over her lover’s hand on her breast, stroking it in thanks (yet also demanding it remain where it was) while the other ruffled through the dark head that had now found its home in her lap. And thus, she began to climb towards her peak.
Lord Melbourne advised her as he stopped to breathe. That was his rôle, after all. “Hold your breath as you feel the pleasure rise,” he whispered. “Clench - clench everything in your lower quarters. Push yourself against my face.” And in his breeches, his poor, neglected cock strained as if it had made up its mind independently to deflower her and was thwarted.
She began to moan - long, purring sounds, each of which ended in a rasping breath. Her knees lifted, the angle of her legs forming a diamond. She laid one leg across Lord Melbourne’s back. He felt himself surrounded by her all the more, those thighs now framing his world. In the periphery of his vision, one of them began to shake. How well he knew what that meant! His eyebrows raised so he could see over her mound: her head had fallen to one side and she was biting her lip. There was a slick of perspiration between her breasts.
He determined to continue doing exactly what he was doing but found he had no choice when the fingers buried in his hair clenched into a fist. “William! William!” The pain in his scalp fused with her pleasure. Her pearl, feeling twice as large now, twitched against his tongue and started to withdraw. He knew she was at her crisis. His vision turned to white as he drank in her flood of bliss, every sense delighting in the quivering of her delicate, delicate flower.
As her spasms died away, he released her pearl with a reluctant sucking sound and kissed every part of her quim, content in the knowledge he had served her well.
Icon credit: my_golden_boots
Lord Melbourne pulled cushions from the armchair and piled them under Victoria’s shoulders. He looked at her for a long moment, this perfect doll flushed with embarrassment and arousal, lying there waiting for him to instruct her, to love her. It flashed over him for the first time - the pain of knowing he would not be able to take her. He would never feel the embrace of her cushioned depths, never find himself thrusting with abandon while she moaned beneath him. It was not the only thing he liked about carnal love but to think it was forbidden was like a chain about his spirit. A beast he had not known lived within him suddenly raged and he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the surge.
The man won the battle. He opened his eyes and told himself, Bring your full attention to her. He smiled and kissed her forehead to dispel the touch of anxiety that fluttered there then kissed her mouth once again. As he did so, his hand sought her breast, slowly rolling it inside the modesty of her nightgown.
Consuming as her yielding kisses were, he soon found he could not ignore the drama elsewhere. Something was jutting against his hand. He shifted his attention and there it was, making the faintest bulge in the cotton: the hard centre of her lovely breast. He moved his hand, pushing through the gap in the neck of her nightgown and into that den of warmth and silk. His fingers found the peak and rolled it gently.
Victoria gave a shrill cry and quivered. So strong a response - stronger than he had ever known. So charming, the way her body knew what it wanted though her mind resided in oblivion. He propped himself up on his elbow as he told her, “Here is another of the signals that tell a man a woman is ready for him - the hardened teat. There have been times in everyday life when I have noticed this swollen flesh pushing out a woman’s clothing and whenever I have, there has been a galvanic surge in my loins. Yes, this and the heaving chest and the wetness and the flushed skin and the parted lips. These are the ways a woman tells a man what she needs.”
All signals now in full flourish, Victoria breathed, “William, you are so sweet, your mouth is so sweet. Will you? Is it too much to ask?” Her tongue still would not form the words but her meaning was clear as her chest heaved upwards.
For a moment, he looked at her quizzically. Did she truly believe he would refuse? There was something in her manner that suggested it was true. With each new thing he taught her, she would have to be convinced that he was not doing it simply for her benefit but that he took pleasure in it himself. With a loving smile, he allowed his head to sink between her breasts. Nudging flimsy cotton to one side, he revealed an apple breast with an upright pip in the centre. He ran his tongue across it then suckled as much of it into his mouth as he could accommodate, tongue pulsing against the teat.
That keening sound again. And this time, her lower quarters bucked. It was useful to know she was the kind of woman who sported a direct connection between her breasts and her quim. He brought his left hand into play, massaging her other breast in time with his sucking.
He nursed so long, enjoying the comfort, enjoying the building tension in both their bodies, he forgot where he was. It had been so long since he had indulged himself with a woman. Oh, he had needs like other men but since his wife left him, he had only hired the occasional tart. He paid them handsomely but the congress had been functional only - a bending of them over the furniture, a brief commotion as he struggled to find their notch amongst a chrysanthemum explosion of layers and frills, and a short fuck, the only part Lord Melbourne found truly satisfactory being his climax. How he had missed the opportunity to use his mouth, his fingers! As if in a dream, his head wandered over to the other breast, fingers pushing up the flesh ready to meet his open mouth.
But sitting at her side and bending over her was not the cleverest way to do this, he decided. He shifted until they lay parallel, some of the weight of his body pressing down upon her as he nuzzled between her breasts.
“Oh!” Little hands settled on his shoulders, half clasping him to her, half pushing him away.
“Am I too heavy for you, Victoria? You are but a mite. Tell me if I am and I shall do this differently.”
“No. You are not too heavy. But the weight of you has made me recognise the power you wield over me. It is quite overwhelming.”
He moved up so they were face-to-face and he stroked her round cheek. So round, such a lunar face nestled in the midnight sky of her dark locks. His head tilted to the side. “Be assured, I shall never use that power against you. I am yours to command, my Queen.”
Those chary fingers moved up to his face and tapped his cheekbones lightly, as if afraid they would cut her. They danced at his temple and from there pushed into his hair.
“Touch me, if you wish to touch me,” he whispered. “You cannot offend me. I treasure the gentle touch of women.” He took that hand for a moment and kissed the fingers before returning it to its chosen arena. The rhythmic movements against his scalp soothed him. He had not been aware he required soothing. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a sigh. When he opened them again, he caught her eye with a serious look. His right hand moved down once more to touch her nether regions. “I shall not penetrate you, Victoria. As I promised. You shall remain virgo intacta. See how my fingers do naught but play?” This time, he pushed his hand under her nightgown and touched her bare skin. There was hair, the puffy lips of a young woman’s quim and only a little moisture. So like a virgin. They did not get as wet as they did once they had been opened. To feel any small gush of virgin excitement was a privilege indeed.
“I trust you, dearest William,” she said as her cool hand caressed his brow.
“Cherub - there is something I would very much like to show you. I would love you with all my body. May I?”
Her eyes were brilliant with tears. “Yes.”
She had very little idea to what she was agreeing, of course. That curve in her upper lip seemed more prominent then than it had before, reminding him of the way she had pouted defensively in the early days of their acquaintance. The tiniest of sneers, it had seemed, favouring the right side of her generous mouth only. He kissed it, that curve to the right, in a way that told her it was time to put away a doubtful pout. Running his hands down her sides and kissing along the midline of her body as he went, Lord Melbourne made his way south until his broad shoulders pressed Victoria’s knees apart and he arrived at that place he never imagined he would see. The angle of her legs as they trembled in the firelight made it a mysterious land. He needed more than that. “Open your legs for me,” he insisted, rubbing his cheek against her inner thigh and applying light pressure as he spoke. “Yes. Part your legs.”
Mewling in her modesty, she still obeyed.
Lord Melbourne stared. For a long time, it seemed he would do nothing but stare with the strangest expression - eyes hooded, lips parted. Then he smiled the way he had smiled so many times before bowing to kiss Victoria’s hand, except this time, he bowed to…
She jerked at the strange sensation: so precise, so keen, yet so ephemeral - the pitter-patterings of a mouse loose between her thighs.
He used his thumbs to part her lightly-furred lips and there was her pearl. Such a tiny thing, still pale and tucked away inside its shell. It was hard to believe the small movements he would make would be enough to bring her joy yet more than one woman had told him so. He blew on it and across it, made a zephyr dance in circles around it. He had made up his mind earlier in the day that he would focus on her pearl. His wife, Caroline, had insisted that a girl feels all her pleasure there until she has been made a woman. Certainly, she had played the girl often, holding Lord Melbourne’s head so his lips remained glued to her fiery spot and bucking, bucking.
This was quite different. This shy thing needed to be coaxed. He placed the flat of his tongue upon it then circumscribed it languorously, anticipating that moment when it would stand proud against his tongue. And there it was! A little crowing bantam. Lord Melbourne suckled on it, devoted.
Beyond the frame of her knees, the frill of her nightgown, he could see Victoria’s head tossing, the mounds of her breasts rising and falling. As he had promised, he would show her all her body could feel without taking her yet he could not resist sliding his tongue lower and tasting her entrance. He pressed her inner lips apart just a tiny amount, releasing the pocket of honey her tight quim had retained. He lapped at it, savouring this pure anointing - the fresh flow of a virgin. He felt as if this liquor might penetrate his very being, revitalise him. Just for an instant, he allowed his tongue to press in deep until it met resistance. A sharp jerk told him the membrane his tongue had glanced across surely was her maidenhead. A shudder passed through him, too, and he was forced to take a moment to compose himself. He was such a large man to be so undone by such a fragile thing. He reached up a hand and laid it on her pliant belly, moving it in slow circles - a belly that had neither swollen with child nor shivered in ecstasy. Was every part of this woman’s body infinitely precious? Lord Melbourne opened his mouth wide and drew in as much of her rosy flesh as he could. He might not be the first to ravish her but he was determined to make her first ecstasy his.
Looking up, he saw Victoria was looking back down at him. Her jaws shuddered as if voicing a thousand small ‘oh’s and her forehead was strained. “How do you know how to pleasure me like that? How can you know, how can you possibly know?”
“Whatever I do not know,” he said, “teach me.” The hand on her belly reached up farther and clasped the small breast that lay half in, half out of her yawning nightgown. It was as if Lord Melbourne sought her breast as an anchor to a reality that was fast disappearing as he lost himself in her.
Victoria’s hands moved to where they should be, one laid over her lover’s hand on her breast, stroking it in thanks (yet also demanding it remain where it was) while the other ruffled through the dark head that had now found its home in her lap. And thus, she began to climb towards her peak.
Lord Melbourne advised her as he stopped to breathe. That was his rôle, after all. “Hold your breath as you feel the pleasure rise,” he whispered. “Clench - clench everything in your lower quarters. Push yourself against my face.” And in his breeches, his poor, neglected cock strained as if it had made up its mind independently to deflower her and was thwarted.
She began to moan - long, purring sounds, each of which ended in a rasping breath. Her knees lifted, the angle of her legs forming a diamond. She laid one leg across Lord Melbourne’s back. He felt himself surrounded by her all the more, those thighs now framing his world. In the periphery of his vision, one of them began to shake. How well he knew what that meant! His eyebrows raised so he could see over her mound: her head had fallen to one side and she was biting her lip. There was a slick of perspiration between her breasts.
He determined to continue doing exactly what he was doing but found he had no choice when the fingers buried in his hair clenched into a fist. “William! William!” The pain in his scalp fused with her pleasure. Her pearl, feeling twice as large now, twitched against his tongue and started to withdraw. He knew she was at her crisis. His vision turned to white as he drank in her flood of bliss, every sense delighting in the quivering of her delicate, delicate flower.
As her spasms died away, he released her pearl with a reluctant sucking sound and kissed every part of her quim, content in the knowledge he had served her well.