Fifty Shades of Victorian Desire

by Davina Charleston

  On the banks of a silvery river,

  A youth and a maiden reclined;

  The youth could be scarce twenty summers,

  The maiden some two years behind.

  Full lip and a neck well developed,

  That youth’s ardent nature bespoke,

  And he gazed on that virtuous maiden,

  With a look she could hardly mistake.

  But the innocent glance of that virgin,

  Betokened that no guile she knew,

  Though he begged in bold tones of entreaty,

  She still wouldn’t take up the cue.

  He kissed her and prayed and beseeched her,

  No answer received in reply,

  Till his fingers were placed on her bosom,

  And he crossed his leg over her thigh.

  Then she said ‘I can never, no never,

  ‘Consent to such deeds until wed;

  ‘You may try though the digital process,’

  That maiden so virtuous said.

  And he drew her still closer and closer,

  His hand quick placed under her clothes,

  And her clitoris youthful he tickled,

  Till that maiden excited arose.

  ‘F – k me now, dear, oh, f – k me,’ she shouted,

  ‘F – k me now, f – k me now, or I die.’

  ‘I can’t, I have spent in my breeches,’

  Was that youth’s disappointing reply.

  Monsignor Peter had, after an infinite amount of persuasion, given me the address where Pinero Balsam was to be obtained, and I had laid in a decent stock of it, for though each small bottle cost a sovereign, I felt morally sure that it was the nearest approximation to the mythical elixir vitoe of the ancients that we moderns had invented. Some of this I had secretly dropped into the port wine, and the effect upon my guests had already become very pronounced.

  ‘I say, Clinton,’ said the junior of the party, who had only ‘passed’ a month, and who might be just turned twenty, ‘your dinner was splendid, your tipple has a bouquet such as my inexperience has never suggested, have you anything in the shape of petticoats about half so good? if so, give me a look in.’

  The youth was rapidly getting maudlin and randy; just then came a faint rap at the door, it was the old woman who swept and garnished the ‘diggings’.

  ‘I thought I might find Mr. Mitchell here, sir,’ she said, apologetically, ‘here’s a telegram come for him,’ and curtseying, the old girl vanished, glad to escape the fumes of wine and weed which must have nearly choked her.

  ‘No bad news, I hope,’ said I.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Sydney; ‘what’s the time?’

  ‘Nearly 8.30’ replied I, consulting my chronometer.

  ‘Then I shall have to leave you fellows at nine, my married sister Fanny arrives at Euston from the north by the 9.30.’

  ‘What a pity!’ said the Callow Junior, ‘if it were a sweetheart now one might be overjoyed at your good fortune – but a sister!’

  ‘Is it the handsome one?’ put in Wheeler.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sydney, showing us the face in a locket the only piece of jewellery, by the way, he boasted.

  There was a silence as all clustered round the likeness.

  ‘By Jove,’ said Tom Mallow, the roué of the party, ‘if I had a sister like that I should go clean staring mad, to think she wasn’t some other fellow’s sister, so that I might have a fair and reasonable chance.’

  I said nothing, but I fell over head and ears in love with that face to such an extent that I felt there was nothing I would not do to possess the owner.

  I, of course, presented a calm exterior, and under the guise of a host who knew his duty, plied them with rare old port, and proposed toast after toast, and health after health, until I had the satisfaction of seeing in less than three-quarters of an hour every member of the crew so dead drunk that I felt I could afford to leave the chambers without any fear of a mishap; then rolling the recumbent Sydney over, for he was extended prone upon the hearthrug, I subtracted the wire from his pocket, and saw that his sister’s name was Lady Fanny Twisser.

  ‘Oh,’ said I, a light breaking in upon me, ‘this then is the girl Sydney’s plotting mother married to a rich baronet, old enough to be her grandfather; this doubles my chances,’ and locking the door I made my way into the street. It was by Greenwich mean 9.19, and I was a mile and a quarter from the station.

  ‘Hansom!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘A guinea if you can drive me to Euston Station in ten minutes.’

  That man earned his guinea.

  THE EFFECTS OF SHELLFISH

  From the booking office I emerged on to the arrival platform, and hailing a superior-looking porter, placed a sovereign in his hand, whispering in his ear, ‘The train coming in the distance contains a Lady Twisser, engage a good cab, put all her luggage on it, and if I should happen to miss the lady, as I might do in this crowd, conduct me to her.’

  He obeyed my instructions au pied de la lettre, and in less than two minutes I was shaking hands on the strength of a self-introduction to Lady Fanny.

  I explained that her brother was engaged in consultation with a senior counsel at the bar, and that had it not been a very important case, he would have met her in person, but my instructions were that she was to come to his chambers where he would probably be by the time we arrived.

  Lady Fanny’s portrait had by no means exaggerated her loveliness.

  A stately Grecian nose and finely cut lips suggested to me that she was a mare that might shy, but then her soft, brown, dreamy eyes told a sweeter tale, and as I thought of diviner joys I leaned back in the cab, and almost wished I had not touched the Pinero cordial, for I was in momentary fear of spending in my trousers.

  ‘This, I think is your first visit to London.’

  ‘Scarcely,’ replied she, in a voice whose gentle music made my heart bound, ‘I came up with my husband six months ago to be “presented”, but we only stayed the day.’

  ‘London is a splendid city,’ I rejoined, ‘so full of life and gaiety, and then the shops and bazaars are always replete with every knick-nack, that for ladies it must seem a veritable paradise.’

  Lady Fanny only sighed, which I thought strange, but before my cogitations could take form we were at my chambers.

  ‘Had not my boxes better be sent to some hotel,’ said Lady Fanny, ‘I am, of course, only going to make a call here.’

  ‘Yes,’ returned I, ‘that is all arranged,’ and feeing the cabman handsomely, I directed him to take them to a quiet hotel in Norfolk-street, Strand, and conducted her ladyship to her brother’s rooms.

  Here I left her for a few moments to see after my drunken guests, but found them all snoring peacefully, some on the floor, others on chairs and sofas, but all evidently settled for the night.

  After knocking at Sydney’s door I again entered his sitting-room, and found it empty.

  Damn it, I thought to myself, the bird hasn’t flown, I hope.

  My ears were at this moment saluted with the gurgling which betokened that her ladyship was relieving herself in the adjoining apartment, and I quietly sat down and awaited her return.

  On seeing me she started and turned as red as a full blown peony, the flower being a simile suggested by the situation, and said, ‘I had no idea, Mr. Clinton, that –’

  ‘Pray, Lady Fanny, do not mention it; I know exactly what you were about to say.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yes, you as a matter of fact didn’t know what to say, because you thought I heard you – a-hem – in the next room – but, my dear Lady Fanny, in London we are not so mighty particular as the hoydenish country folks, and as an old friend of your brother’s, you will pardon my saying that I do not think you have treated me over well.’

  ‘Treated you – really, Mr. Clinton, you amaze me; pray what have I done.’

  ‘Rather, my dear Lady Fanny, what have you left undone.’

 
‘Nothing, I hope,’ said she, hastily, looking down as though she expected to see a petticoat or a garter falling off.

  ‘No, I don’t mean anything like that,’ said I, coming closer to her, until the flame which shot from my eyes appeared to terrify her, and she moved towards the bedroom, as if to take refuge there.

  Now this was the very height of my ambition, I knew once in that apartment all struggles and cries would be of little avail, for the walls were thick, the windows high, and there was no other door save the one she was gradually backing into.

  ‘What does this conduct mean, Mr. Clinton?’ said the lovely girl, for she was only two-and-twenty at the time of the rencontre.

  ‘I surely am in my brother’s chambers, and with his friend, for he has often written and told me of your kindness to him. You are not an impostor? you are not one of those dreadful men of whom one reads in romances, who would harm a woman?’

  ‘No,’ said I, ‘Lady Fanny, do not mistake the ardour of devotion for any sinister motive, but sit down, after your fatiguing journey, while I order in some refreshment.’

  ‘Doubly locking the door, on the principle of safe bind, safe find, I gave an order to the restaurateur round the corner which astonished that gentleman, and in less than ten minutes I had overcome Fanny’s scruples, got her to take off her Moiré mantle and coquettish bonnet, and had placed before her a bijou supper in five courses such as I knew would make a country demoiselle open her eyes.

  ‘Good gracious me,’ said Lady Fanny, ‘does my brother always live like this, if so, I am not at all surprised at his frequent requisitions on my purse.’

  ‘Yes,’ said I, nonchalantly, ‘this is generally our supper, permit me,’ and I poured out a glass of champagne, taking care, however, that six drops of Pinero had been placed in the glass.

  A DISAPPOINTED WIFE’S FIRST TASTE OF BLISS

  Really magical was the effect, for her conversation, hitherto so constrained, became gay and lively, and as this vivacity added to her other charms, I grew more and more enamoured of her.

  ‘What capital oysters these are,’ said she, swallowing her ninth ‘native’.

  ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘in your Cheshire home you would find it difficult to procure such real beauties.’

  ‘We should, indeed,’ replied she, ‘and for the matter of that it is perhaps better that shellfish are so scarce with us,’ and she heaved another sigh.

  This beautiful woman is decidedly a conundrum, thought I, but determining to probe the puzzle, I enquired the meaning of her last remark.

  She blushed and simpered, then fixing her eyes on her plate said, ‘I have always understood that shellfish are exciting, and stimulate the passions.’

  ‘That is perfectly correct,’ retorted I, ‘and therefore all the more reason why a married lady should patronize them.’

  She sighed again, and then at last I guessed the reason. Fool that I was not to have divined it before this time. Hope now was succeeded by a certainty.

  After disposing of some chicken and another glass of champagne, into which I insidiously dropped some more balsam, she sank back in the arm chair and murmured, ‘How long do you think my brother’s consultation is likely to last?’

  ‘Pray heaven,’ ejaculated I, fervently, ‘that it may last all the night through.’

  ‘Why do you say that, Mr. Clinton?’

  ‘Because to see you and to listen to your voice is ravishing delight, which to dispel would seem to me the precursor of death,’ and I flung myself upon my knees before her, and seizing her hand pressed it to my lips, and covered it with burning kisses.

  She gently tried to withdraw it, and pointing to her wedding ring, said, ‘Dear Mr. Clinton, I am a wife, have pity on me, I am but a weak woman, and –’

  But I caught her in my arms, and stifled the rest of the sentence with a long and ardent mouth embrace, which, repulsed at first, was at length returned.

  Two seconds afterwards my finger had softly glided into her willing cunt, and as it encountered the clitoris I found that that membrane was as stiff as my own penis, which was now at bursting point.

  ‘Oh, Mr. Clinton, for God’s sake forbear. If my brother should come in there would be blood spilled, I should be lost.’

  ‘Fear nothing, my darling,’ said I, rubbing her vagina with the point of my finger, and feeling the beginning of the pearly trickle exuding all over my hand.

  ‘Come this way,’ and leading her ladyship unresistingly by the hand, never, however, leaving hold of her sweet cunt the while, I placed her on her own brother’s bed, and, oh, how can I write further, since to say that she was superb is but faintly to describe the joy I felt as, straightening my throbbing prick, I gently insinuated it into her.

  She gave one loud sigh, then lifted her strong country arse, and I plunged in up to the hilt. At each thrust I gave her ladyship sighed, and returned the shove with a rapid promptitude which showed how fresh and spunky her vigorous constitution was.

  ‘Go on, my own precious,’ whispered she, as I put my tongue into her panting hot mouth. ‘Faster, for Christ’s sake, faster,’ and as she said the words I shot into her a discharge which must have clean emptied my cods, for although Fanny still faintly struggled to emit some more, the last lingering spark of vitality appeared to have flown from me.

  I did not seem to have even the strength left to take it out, but lay there on her rounded breasts (for she had undone her stomacher before commencing) supine and nerveless.

  ‘Do try again, love,’ she murmured, toying with my hair. ‘You will never guess, dear Mr. Clinton, what this has been to me, my old husband never did such a thing, he always uses a beastly machine, shaped like that which is in me now, but made of guttapercha, and filled with warm oil and milk.’

  ‘You mean a dildo, dear?’

  I have never heard its name,’ said Fanny, but it is nothing near so nice at this dear sweet thing of yours. Oh! I never knew what real happiness was before; could you manage it once more,’ and again her ladyship wriggled her bottom.

  In my waistcoat pocket I had a petite flask of Pinero. I took this out, and removing the stopper, drank about half a tea spoonful, the result was electrical.

  Drawing my prick nearly out of my lady’s passage I found it swelling again, and just giving the potent charm time to work, I softly began once more.

  It may almost seem romancing, but I can assure my readers that the second fuck was more enjoyable than the first.

  For having made coition a long study, I have always found that, given a cool brain, I can get more pleasure out of a slow connection than a gallopade, where the excitement gets the business over before you can absolutely realize the details.

  I revel in a slow friction, gradually warming up to fever heat, and quite agree with that exquisite stanza of the immortal native of Natal

  ‘Who was poking a Hottentot gal,’

  And who upon being remonstrated with, or in the words of the bard

  ‘Said she, oh! you sluggard,’

  Replied most correctly

  ‘You be buggered,

  ‘I like fucking slow, and I shall.’

  To resume, we both seemed to be so au courant of each other’s little ways and modes of action as though we had mutually performed the ‘fandango de pokum’ for years, instead of only a few short minutes.

  Presently, to vary the bliss, and to give her ladyship a few wrinkles, I suggested her mounting me, à la St. George.

  But she begged of me not to take it out, and on my assuring her that that was by no means a necessary concomitant, she agreed.

  I have always been distinguished as particularly au fait at the St. George, so I managed to roll over very gradually, first one leg and then the other, till I had got Fanny fairly planted on the top of me.

  But I had gauged her ladyship’s cunt power at too low an estimate, for she no sooner found herself mistress of the situation than she took in the position at a glance, and ravished me with such terrible lunges that I fairl
y cried a ‘go’.

  But nothing daunted, Fanny held on, and I stood no more chance of getting my poor used up ‘torch’ out of her vagina than if it had been wedged into a vice.

  At last I felt the hot crème de la créme pouring down over my balls, and with a last despairing gasp of mingled pleasure and regret to think she could hold out no longer, Fanny once more sank into my arms about as thoroughly spent as a woman should be who has been most damnably twice fucked in a quarter of an hour.

  Hastily putting on her things, and making herself shipshape, I drove with her to the hotel, where her boxes had arrived safely, and in the morning informed her brother, as I had previously arranged with Fanny, that she had sent a messenger to his chambers overnight, saying where she was to be found.

  I also told him how I had excused him in a return message by the hotel porter, and his gratitude to me knew no bounds.

  I deemed it prudent not to see her ladyship during her stay in town, though she sent me three pressing letters, but I feared we should be bowled out, and wrote her so.

  Twelve months after this I heard she had separated from her husband, having presented him, nine months from that blissful evening, with a son and heir, which the old man, not believing in miracles, could scarcely altogether credit the dildo with.

  THE INFLUENCE OF FINERY

  Now my next essay was of a totally different character, and may, perhaps, be stigmatized by the fastidious reader as an escapade, degrading to one whose last liaison had been with the wife of a baronet, but to tell the truth, and judging cunt from a strictly philosophical standpoint, there is so little difference between a chambermaid and a countess, that it would take a very astute individual indeed to define it.

  It is, perhaps, true, that the countess’s opening may be, by frequent ablutions kept sweeter, and the frangipanni on her ladyship’s fine cambric chemisette may possibly make the entrance more odoriferous for a tongue lick, but Dr. Johnson’s admirable impromptu definition will apply to the vagina of a Malayese or a China girl equally with that of our own countrywomen. He said, if you remember, on the occasion when poor Oliver Goldsmith was troubled with the venereal, and came to him for sympathy: