Isn’t It Too Big

by Naomi Penn

  “Oh, we'll be putting that alleyway to use, whore!” The men shouted. “But we'll be needing your slimy slit!”

  And, perhaps not so strangely, given the social mores of the day... not a bystander batted an eye as all this took place. The supposed whore was fleeing two johns on a busy afternoon. The usual behavior for this victorian town of ill-repute.

  But, Willow knew time was of the essence. She certainly didn't want to spend any alone with those two hooligans, especially not alone in an alleyway! And so the girl sprinted until the next street, where she abruptly took the corner and reached out for the nearest door in sight...

  ***

  Willow Woods took hold of the large metal knocker (just as her own pert knockers came to a rest, heaving up and down with each of her deep breaths). It swung open after a great deal of effort and strain – one of those big, heavy wooden things that tavern proprietors are so fond of using.

  The untouched lass was immediately greeted by the sound of raucous laughter and obnoxious plumes of smoke. But, she didn't much care what kind of establishment she had stumbled into – so long as it kept her safe! And with that thought in mind, she quickly shut the door behind her and ventured forward...

  Whereupon the wide-eyed, panting girl took sight of a rather scandalous spectacle. It appeared to be a brothel or bar of some sort. Maybe a mixture or combination of the two. For there were many jolly men seated throughout the room – on stools or couches or chairs of countless varieties. And for each man, whether he be fat and ugly or lean and decently attractive, was accompanied by a woman of questionable moral standing. Those gussied up hussy sorts. Tight dresses with even tighter corsets causing their breasts to smoosh together, in a moderately enticing fashion as it were. Something the likes of which Willow Woods had never witnessed herself!

  Why, the girl was almost entirely ignorant of these sorts of places. They were foreign and mysterious to the lady. The kind of offering that her downtrodden mother would have participated in, no doubt. Yet, again, none of that mattered one smidgen to the winded lass. She was simply happy to be rid of the idiotic boys from the street. Though, the shame and shock of being publicly declared a whore by Mrs. Landebaum left a foul, bewildered taste in her mouth. But, of course, being found in a place like this certainly might lend credence to the accusation. And so, the girl tucked her chin down low in an attempt to conceal her face from the many wandering eyes of lusty denizens. Particularly from one portly fellow seated by himself on the far corner of the room. The inebriation clearly written upon his face and the debauchery evinced by the small bulge in the crotch of his pants. Willow wasn't sure, and she wasn't going to look a second time to confirm her suspicion, but it seemed as though the man had beckoned her over with a nod from his head and wagging of his finger.

  This, however, was nothing the fair-skinned and comely faced Willow Woods wanted any part of. She merely averted her gaze, trudging forward through the nearest doorway and into the next room – where she spotted a tavern bar setting of sorts. One with a counter top in the front for customers to sit at and a few tables in the rear. Supposedly for playing cards or propositioning gentlemen.

  Nervous Willow paused for a moment, glancing about the room. There were a few entrance ways to the rear. Those with long hallways leading off to the depths of some libidinous frenzy... or so she imagined. This wasn't the kind of establishment the young lass ever fancied herself being in, and as such, hadn't a clue what to do! No idea where a lady should sit... or stand. The women scattered about seemed to be ones of ill-repute, and not the type one would look to for proper conduct. The girl spun round and round, not wanting to look directly at any one person or any one thing. But suddenly...

  “Can I help ya, miss!” The man, leaning behind the bar with an apron wrapped round his protruding gut called out.

  “Who?!” Willow gasped, shocked by the sudden inquiry. Although in a moment, she did realize that it was only a natural thing to ask about. A friendly owner and all of that nonsense...

  “Why, you of course!” The fellow chuckled. “What brings a pretty lass like yourself to this kind of place?”

  “Oh...” She blushed, unsure how to respond. “I—I—I'm not sure... do I... should...” Willow blathered on and on, muttering beneath her breath.

  “Speak up, pretty lass!” The bar man shouted. “Can't hear a damn word out of your pretty mouth!”

  And the man's vociferous shouts were beginning to attract the attention of several other upstanding citizens perched on some nearby stools. It was as if he were ringing the dinner bell, signaling countless starving, greedy hound-dogs to the porch.

  Willow found herself, once more, being stared at by a perverted lot of men with too much time on their hands and not enough coin in their pockets.

  “Yes, miss...” One of them nodded, looking her dainty figure over with a critical eye. “What does bring ya here? Lost are ya?”

  “All alone?” Another rapscallion commented.

  “We might be able to help you along...” They said, looking like a pack of wolves circling a wounded elk in the snow.

  And here, Willow took notice of the men leaning off their bar stools. She cast her gaze to the rear, noting the many entrances. And in that moment, it became abundantly clear to the girl that she did not want to go through any of those doors – not with these men anyway! What lie back there was not something she wanted any part of...

  But, as their scowlish faces and strong smelling stench found its way into her nose... she began to think that she might not have a choice in the matter. The wolves were closing their circle, cutting off all hope of escape. Willow did her best to remain calm, backing up ever so slowly.

  “Sorry gents, uhh, just wandered in by accident,” she suggested.

  The men didn't seem overly convinced. And they most assuredly didn't care, not one way or the other. A pretty lass is a pretty lass... and one all alone is even better.

  Willow backed up a bit more, her heart racing. It appeared as though the wolves would be dining on their fresh kill this afternoon... but as she took one more step to the rear, Willow felt a sturdy shoe beneath her own foot, causing the girl to lose all semblance of balance. The frightfull ass entered into a rearward fall...

  ***

  “Oof!” She shouted, stumbling backward into the muscular figure (which felt more like a wall than a man, so sturdy was his stance).

  Instantly, Willow felt a pair of heavy, stern hands grip onto her shoulders. These fingers were what kept the young lass afloat – otherwise she surely would have toppled over and summarily been pounced upon by the hungry wolves, licking their chops and a few even strumming at their vile manroots.

  She fell deathly stiff, too afraid to turn round and see what kind of foul cretin had taken hold of her... this was going to be a most unfortunate turn of events, that much she knew.

  But here, still being held tightly by the mysterious pair of warm hands, Willow Woods noticed a powerful aroma filtering into her nose. A kind of manly, intoxicating scent. Something not totally foreign... as if she had smelled it many times in the past, yet could not quite place its origin in this instant.

  Suddenly, a virile voice broke the silence – emanating from the man whose sturdy arms were holding the girl ever so tightly.

  “That will be all, gentleman,” the familiar voice intoned. “The young lady is with me.”

  “Oh... sorry,” several of the men responded, beating a hasty trail in retreat – going back to their inane yammering at the bar.

  And seeing their reaction, Willow felt even more alarmed than ever! What kind of man could have turned that pack of horny wolves so quickly? Forcing them to run off with tail firmly tucked between their legs. And yet... she seemed to recognize the tone and tenor of the man's voice. A stern, yet endearing quality. She was quite certain that she had indeed heard it before – and quite a few times, at that...

  “Well now,” the gentleman spoke, still holding onto her thin limbs. “Shouldn't you be
back at the home, cleaning away?”

  “Ex...excuse me?” Willow replied.

  “Of course, Willow,” Lord Murkgreed spoke. “Keeping my home nice and tidy as usual!”

  “Lord Murkgreed?” Willow Woods questioned, wriggling free of his grip. And as she turned, it was with great shock and delight that she spotted the somewhat familiar visage of Lord Murkgreed – her previous employer, if the events from today were to be believed.

  “Yes, of course it is I, young miss Willow. Now, the better question is... what are you doing here!” Lord Murkgreed questioned, only in a slightly playful tone.

  “Did Lady Murkgreed not inform you?” Willow replied, casting her head to the floor in shame.

  “Inform me?” Murkgreed stroked his chin. “Of what, my dear?”

  What was this...?

  Had Lord Murkgreed been left wholly ignorant of the day's happenings! Willow Woods could not believe her ears... or her luck! The man seemed entirely flabbergasted by the ordeal. The slight expression of perplexion stretching across his handsome lips.

  “Oh...” Willow hesitated, the wheels of revenge spinning wildly in her mind. “Umm... that I...”

  “Yes?” The mature Murkgreed encouraged the girl on.

  “That I would be taking the day off, that she was having a private gathering there today and would prefer if I could occupy myself until later,” Miss Woods lied.

  “Curses!” Lord Murkgreen stamped his foot. “That damn woman is always doing this to me, is she not? Am I not allowed ANY peace in my own home! Well... if that is to be so, I shant be returning home for a good while.”

  “A smart decision, Lord Murkgreed,” Willow nodded, smiling at last.

  “But still, young lady... why are you here in this establishment?”

  Willow thought to ask the fellow his same question in return, but thought better of it. The young girl had already formulated a little plan in her mind to exact justice on the offensive Lady Murkgreed. How dare that haggish woman cast poor Willow out into the streets! Just look where she had ended up... and after only a few minutes of walking at that.

  She still wondered what scandal could have possibly brought her such malice – but that would have to wait for another time. In this moment, Willow wished to harm Lady Murkgreed in the harshest way she could fathom... and the answer was right there in front of her pretty little face. The one which could scarcely contain the sinister smile sweeping across those plump lips...

  The attractive Mister Murkgreed. Distant, rich, and mysterious. Willow had always thought him handsome, though he'd never been around long enough for it to matter. But here... with the two of them on a somewhat equal playing field – she decided to make her move. To inflict a scandal of family-crushing, society shunning proportion on the affluent Murkgreeds!

  “Oh, Lord Murkgreed...” She sighed, pawing out a hand and rubbing it along his shoulder rather coyly. “I've never been in a place like this before. I sort of just stumbled in out of curiosity you might say.”

  “Never been?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “No! Never... But I've always wondered about...” And here Willow made a shameful motion with her head, indicating toward one of the prostitutes sitting at the table, stroking a man's chin.

  “Oh... that sort of thing,” Lord Murkgreed smiled. The man paused for a moment, eyeing over the young girl before continuing on. “...Never?”

  “No, never!” She reiterated, making damn sure to give her best repulsed expression. As if the thought of having her chaste, pure body defiled by a rough man was the most abhorrent thought one was capable of conjuring.

  “Well...” Murkgreed said, biting the corner of his lip. Willow then watched as his gaze ran down the length of her hand, the one which was still posted on his arm. The mature man's tongue flicked out ever so rapidly – so fast, indeed, that only the most observant of people would have even noticed the momentary action. Though it was enough to make his most inner desires become abundantly clear. The wandering tongue, the thirsty eyes... one needed be an expert in matters of sexual longing to spot the tell-tale signs of a man with a revved engine.

  And here a somewhat awkward silence filled the air, as Willow held stiff, motionless, hoping the older Lord would come to her rescue with some sort of comment or divertissement. For her dastardly plan to work, it would require the fellow to covet her untouched flesh. Perhaps she needed to tempt the lion...

  “...Fascinating,” she said at last, leaning in toward the man, making sure that her heavenly breasts pressed against his large bicep.

  “Interested in that sort of thing, are you miss Willow?” Lord Murkgreed responded without hesitation.

  “Oh, I couldn't be!” She blushed, burying her face against his shoulder with a tiny giggle. “How indecent! I feel dreadful even being in such a place as this! My mother would be turning somersaults in her grave!”

  “Oh ho,” Murkgreed cackled, patting her on the head. “I imagine a young lass like yourself might think such things. But, it isn't all bad, you know.”

  “It's... it's not?” Willow Woods questioned, peering up into the gentleman's fiery eyes. She could see the lust dripping from his pupils! To an alarming degree as it was, for Willow felt the passion of his desires peering right through her. That radiating heat of red-hot craving! And in that moment, the hunter felt her own sexual devices tingle with an unknown excitement. How handsome he was! How alluring... the power, the poise, and... the southern package! Willow had always known about Lord Murkgreed's naughty bulge. The man seemed utterly incapable of downplaying the slab of manhood he carried with him at all hours of the day.

  Young Willow desperately wished to reach out and rub her hand along the seam of his pants, right there on top of the imposing protrusion.

  “No...” He whispered seductively into her ear. “It can be... fun.”

  “Fun?” She gasped, losing herself in the moment.

  “Daring, exciting... beyond ecstasy,” the lord intoned.

  “Really? Can it?” Willow continued to sigh, falling heavily against the man as if drawn in by some unseen magnetic force. Though she had a sneaking suspicion the Lord's southern shaft was the source of all this power. The way he commanded her attention without even trying to. The girl had trouble focusing on the task at hand – namely that of destroying Lady Murkgreed's life by bedding her affluent husband.

  “Certainly, my dear... the throes of passion are, without a doubt, the most enticing of all.”

  “Throes of passion?” She gulped.

  “Oh my, do forgive me young Willow! I forgot who I was speaking to,” Lord Murkgreed said.

  “No, please! Lord Murkgreed, do continue,” she whispered, tugging at his elbow, once more pressing her sumptuous breasts into his skin. She couldn't let the man escape her clutches now! Revenge was at hand...

  “No, no, I mustn't.”

  “But why?”

  “My dear, child...” He grinned. “You are far too innocent to know of such things. It would only serve to fill your head with fanciful desires and lusty dangers.”

  “And that would be a bad thing?” She asked, attempting to say it as somberly as she could. The girl did not want to pass herself off as a wanton floozy. Being seen in this establishment was bad enough... Willow didn't need to provide anymore doubt in the Lord's mind – not if she wished to fulfill her sordid desire.

  “For most... it could be. Some things change you, young Willow. Some for the worse...” Here he leaned in, nearly pressing his warm lips against the edge of her ear, his hot breath sliding along her smooth skin. “And some for the better...”

  “Which would you teach me?” She pleaded, biting her lower lip with lusty anticipation.

  “Well, young Willow,” he whispered. “...Neither!”

  “What!?” The lass tipped forward, nearly falling to the floor once more.

  “I've got a little rendezvous which I must attend. But... if you'd like...” He paused.

  “Yes?” She asked.


  “I have a carriage parked just outside the rear here. We might take it together and continue this little discussion, if you truly wish to experience the tempting pleasures of life.”

  “I'm not... I mean, how could...” The nervous damsel mumbled, watching Lord Murkgreed pull on his coat and head for the door.

  “Time to choose, miss...” He winked.

  Oh god... how glorious his southern bulge appeared in that moment!

  Willow Woods sighed heavily, staring after him, unsure what course of action to take.

  ***

  The carriage door shut with a loud clank, and with a sharp click-click coming from the driver's mouth, the horses suddenly lurched forward. Willow Woods found herself seated opposite the handsome Lord Murkgreed. The inexperienced damsel, set on her dastardly deed... and even though her original plan was made out of spite, the sexual liquid dripping between her thighs was all too real! Just imagining the stern mature fellow having his way with that ripe body... what a treat!