by Celia Strapp
While we rode, we talked, and the more I talked to Toby, watching the curve of his boyish outline, manipulating the horses so elegantly with the pull of a leash, the more my cunny began to grow hungry for him.
Eventually, I suggested we stop and take a rest by a rolling hill, containing some apple paddocks, and we lay on the grass in the sunshine for a while, until I noticed a bulge growing in Toby’s pantaloons, and, my cunny already soft and wet and juicy for him, I straddled him and rode my little horse boy, sticking my hand over his mouth, making the seed fly into me all the harder.
I need not bother to explain to you that after such a display, it was not difficult to convince Toby to run away with me. And now I have him in my grasp, a simple little farm boy, to whom I have been teaching the ways of the world, riding him like a little horse, and using the whip he uses on his creatures on him. And how he loves it when I call him my little slave! How he loves to do exactly as I tell him!
But, dear reader, I do not want you to get the wrong impression. My current life, now that I have escaped the Duke’s clutches, is one of squalor and misery. Though I have Toby, and sometimes find a farmhand when Toby is at work, I have something inside of me which can never be set right. I am filled, night and day, with an unquenchable thirst, and unshakeable lust for sin, and I cannot do anything to change it.
So that is my strange and sorry little tale, reader. I hope you have not found it too revolting to stay with me until the end. Because those of you that find that you have the proclivity within you, who feel their cunny grow wet at the thought of being strapped into a chair, or whipping a poor boy into submission, may find that, one day, you end up quite like me. Unable to satisfy yourself, forever roaming the earth, looking for bigger, juicer things to fill your cunny with. And one day, you might just split yourself apart entirely.
Oh, one more thing, dear reader, which I almost forgot to say… I took the key to the dungeon on my journey with me when I left the house, as it happens. Whatever happened to the Duke and the Duchess, I suppose I shall never know. But sometimes, late at night, I imagine the moans of those poor wretches, still strapped to the machinery within the depths of that awful dungeon, the rats crawling about their feet, and I feel the juices in my cunny flow, then I begin to rub my deliciously swollen, pregnant belly. I wonder whether my baby will look anything like the Duke, and I wonder, if it’s a girl, whether there isn’t a thing or two I can teach her in order to find her way in the world, an awakened harlot, just like me.
Hungry for more?
THE BARON’S LITTLE BRIDE
When beautiful eighteen year old Prudence Westbridge finds out that her father has arranged for her to be married to the wicked Baron Of Dorcester without her consent, she is furious and terrified. With the Baron's reputation for perversion, she knows she'll never be able to love him.
But when she finally meets the masculine, commanding figure of the Baron, she feels her defenses wear away, and her affection for him grows. The strong hand of his corporal discipline teaches her what it will be like to take her place as the new Baroness Of Dorcester.
Soon, she'll be strapped in to her marital bed and ready to become a woman. Soon, she'll be totally unprotected from his huge appetite.
THE SCARLET COURTESAN
Anne-Marie is a fiery eighteen-year-old determined to make a better life for herself than the poverty she was born into. She begins to notice that she has one asset that can help her make her way in the world: her beautiful looks.
When Anne-Marie finally manages to earn enough money to dress herself in a fetching, if rather revealing Baroque dress, she is surprised at the effect is has upon a particular stern but handsome Parisian gentleman, and even more surprised when she finds herself traveling to the Palace of Versailles with him.
And that's where she becomes his scarlet courtesan...
