Wickedness

Chapter 1

September 1858

Summer was coming to a close and yet the days remained long and hot. The unbroken and unforgiving torrid atmosphere seemed to affect the servants at Long Livery Hall in different ways. Sometimes it drew out the best in them and yet at other times it highlighted the worst in them. It enhanced their joy of living and yet it fed their basic sexual lusts.

At times Lizzie Hudson felt drawn both ways at once. She revelled in the day-long bright sunshine, but she also felt a deep, insatiable appetite for sex: wonderful, mind-numbing sex. Since Dewy Kittow first planted that enigmatic bud inside her she had been unable to contain its development. Now, beneath the blaze of clear Cornish skies, it was rapidly growing out of control.

She had been thinking about sex, dreaming about it since the last time she visited Dewy in his gamekeeper’s cottage on the Long Livery estate. That was three days ago. She sighed as she went about her routine work: three whole days! Three endless, time-dragging days since he had last taken her to his bed, held her in his arms, kissed her, and brought her to the climax of a glorious orgasm. Since then each hour that passed seemed an eternity, a frustrating endurance before she could enjoy yet more sex. She had such an insatiable need to be satisfied again that it occupied all her waking thoughts. It affected more than just her mind: every part of her body ached to be taken, yet again, to the heights of sexual release.

There were moments when she wondered if she was going mad.

This wasn’t how a respectable young woman was supposed to feel or think. A man might harbour such crude sexual needs, but a woman was expected to be pure in body and thought. So what was wrong with her? Not knowing the answer, her only recourse was to franticly masturbate herself whenever she was alone and hope to find the time to visit Dewy again as soon as possible.

It hadn’t always been like this. She’d arrived in Plymouth five months ago, a respectable eighteen-year old virgin intent on dedicating her life to helping poverty-stricken families at a seaman’s mission. There had been problems from the start: like Nellie Braskett’s filthy bordello in which she took lodgings, and the night she was attacked by Mick Grimsdale, the belligerent navvy. But everything changed for the better when she crossed the River Tamar into Cornwall, taking a post as Lady Windlesham’s lady’s maid at Long Livery Hall. Her life was even more enjoyable when she became Dewy Kittow’s lover. It would have been perfect but for the interference of Virginia, Sir John and Lady Windlesham’s fractious daughter.

The oppressively hot weather continued and Lizzie’s desires grew and festered inside her. She couldn’t put aside her erotic thoughts. In a short break from her household duties, she stood and gazed out through a drawing room window, taking in the glorious view of the Long Livery parkland in front of the big house. Sparkling sunshine lit up the scene giving it a sharp Mediterranean aura. They called it an Indian Summer; when noon temperatures reached almost eighty degrees and nights remained uncomfortably warm. Lizzie had enjoyed the extended summer but now she was beginning to wish it would end. Was the heat the only problem? Was it the constant humid atmosphere that stoked the fires of her sexual yearning? Was the weather alone turning her into some sort of mindless whore?

Whatever it was, she had to do something about it.

That evening she stole away from the Hall after dinner to visit Dewy at his cottage. She could wait no longer. She hurried through the kitchen garden, hoping she wouldn’t be seen, and entered the natural woodland that still covered more than half of the estate. She was glad to walk within the cool shade of overhanging trees, listening to the birdsong that hung on the calm air. She skipped as a way of expressing her anxious delight. Her mind was determined on one thing: soon she would have a rigid cock thrusting inside her and she would be satisfied.

The gamekeeper’s cottage door was open but there was no sign of Dewy, so she went inside and took off all her clothes. It was a sensible move, she reasoned. She knew well enough that there was no better way to enjoy sex than to be totally and utterly nude. After a day spent sweating in her constricting uniform, she felt immediate relief in her nakedness. She untied her long golden hair so that it fell about her shoulders, soft and filmy like silk. Feeling marginally easier in her mind, she slid her hands down her slender body, stroked her fingers around her jutting conical breasts, and tested the dampness of her cunny lips.

Oh Dewy, where are you when I want you? I need you here with me. I need you to fuck me now.

So much had happened to her since she left her father’s vicarage in Kensington. So many changes had occurred. When she first came to Long Livery Hall she’d been afraid of sex, a hang-over from her repressive childhood, but those days were past now. She had learned new words: fuck, cunny and cock. She’d learned new techniques: cock-sucking as well as a whole catalogue of different ways to fuck. She came to Dewy as often as she could and allowed him to please her in his bed again and again. Allowed him? Good heavens, no, she begged him to bring her to magical climaxes. She loved him; loved him deeply, but her inner need had become so much more than just love. It was an intense sexual desire, a passionate yearning to have his cock inside her, thrusting and pumping, driving her to heights of exquisite joy. Once so pure and innocent, she now needed to be ridden by him again and again. She wanted it, she needed it, she craved it like a starving man craved food.

She’d known no other man but Dewy, her cunny had harboured no other cock but his and, at times, that seemed unfair because Dewy had enjoyed sex with other women. Worst of all, he’d fucked Virginia Windlesham.

For a time, Virginia had made Lizzie’s life difficult, but at least that problem was now held in abeyance. Virginia had been sent away from the Hall, pregnant and unmarried, to have her baby in secret. One day she would return but, until then, Lizzie would put the harridan from her mind. Her one consolation was that Dewy wasn’t the father of the baby, but she could never forget that Dewy had bedded the Windleshams’ daughter.

She went to the open door and peered outside. A dusty lane ran through the woodland and she hoped to see Dewy coming into view with Lightning, his Irish water spaniel, at his heels. But there was no sign of him. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the warm evening air, revelling in her nudity, sensing a quickening of her heartbeat. What would it be like to have Dewy fuck her out here in the open air? They could easily find a quiet part of the estate where no one from Long Livery Hall would see them, so why not take advantage of the rustic idyll? She tucked away the idea in the back of her mind, ready to be resurrected when Dewy returned.

Emboldened by her thoughts, she walked around the cottage to where an animal trail ran off through the trees and undergrowth. It was a narrow, semi-hidden track used by foxes, badgers and by Dewy when he needed to get to the River Lynher. But Dewy wasn’t here and Lizzie was too tense to sit around waiting for him. Maybe she could give herself some relief by fingering her cunny out here in the warm evening air. Yes, she would do that, but not here. The cottage was too near the lane and someone might happen along. She would be safer down by the river, well hidden from the Long Livery household and from the navvies who occupied a camp on the far side of the estate. On a sudden whim, she set off along the animal trail, feeling the dusty ground hard beneath her bare feet as she edged along between tall trees and thick undergrowth. The lowering sun was visible only as occasional flashes through the woods.

The path opened out onto a grassy knoll at the riverside. One moment she was in deep shadow and the next she was in the open, staring westwards into the blazing ball of the sun which hovered above the tree-line on its way to a hidden horizon. Lizzie stopped abruptly. A solitary figure stood on a small beach at the far side of the river: a man as naked as herself. She recognised him instantly. It was Dan Grimsdale.

She’d first met the young railway navvy when she arrived in Plymouth five months ago. She had been an immature young woman of eighteen, easy prey to any drunken navvy and Dan had tried to protect her from Mick Grimsdale, his brutal father. She respected him for that.

He was staring down the river to a point where it veered off out of sight, towards the River Tamar, and he didn’t appear to have noticed her. She briefly glanced back at the woodland. She had an opportunity to duck out of view before he turned towards her, but she didn’t. Something compelled her to remain on the river bank, staring at him. Topped with matted black hair, he was in his early twenties. He had a lean but muscular body, honed into shape by years of hard labour. But it was his cock that took the most of her attention. It was rigid, at least as long as Dewy’s and, to her amazement, it was much thicker, almost frightening in its immensity. He held it firmly in one hand and began masturbating himself, slowly and dreamily, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

She gasped out loud and he must have heard her because he paused in his actions and turned towards her. When he saw her, his face suddenly reddened in apparent embarrassment. He released his hold on his cock and spread his hands wide, but his erection remained stiff and huge in front of him.

Oh God! You shouldn’t be seeing me like this, miss. His voice carried easily on the still air.

It’s only me, Dan. Lizzie Hudson. She wanted to sound in control of herself but she knew there was a high-pitched edge to her voice.

I know who you are, miss. He put his hands in front of his cock, but failed to hide it from her sight. Oh God. This isn’t right.

Wait there. I’ll come across and join you. She had no idea what induced her to say it, but the words couldn’t be erased once spoken. Her intention couldn’t be reversed once announced and neither could she contain her curiosity towards his huge erection.

She took a step towards the slow moving water and halted. Was this wise? Was the hot weather now pushing her into an act of total immorality? If it was, she couldn’t stop now. She had to go on.

Dan put out a hand towards her. No, you mustn’t miss. You’ve nothing on.

Neither have you, she pointed out, as if it was some sort of valid reason for her to be closer to him. A following thought appeared unexpectedly in her mind: I want to see more of you naked.

What are you doing, miss?

I’m coming across, she called back.

No, miss. You mustn’t.

But Lizzie was determined not to be thwarted. She walked into the water until it reached her waist, wiping away her bodily sweat with each pace. The water was colder than she expected, but not unpleasant. She took a deep breath and, with a sudden gasp, she pushed away, swimming with a strong breast stroke. It felt deliciously sensual. She kept her gaze focussed on Dan and his erection, wondering what she was going to do, what she was going to say when she walked ashore at the far side of the river. She’d only ever seen Dewy naked and assumed all men were like him. Clearly that was wrong because Dan, although as muscular as the gamekeeper, had a much thicker penis. Would it be too big to fit inside a woman’s vagina? Or would it give extra pleasure because of its size?

It occurred to her that Dewy would be outraged if he discovered what she was now doing, but she quickly found an excuse: she also had been outraged when she learned about him fucking Virginia Windlesham. Fucking: a word she had learned only since leaving her home in Kensington. Was that all it was? Yes, it had to be pure animal fucking. There was no way Dewy could show any love towards Virginia. She put the matter aside. Her mind was made up. If Dewy could enjoy a sexual dalliance with someone else, so could she. She wanted to see Dan Grimsdale naked and close up. Maybe, she might touch his cock, feel its hardness, enjoy its beauty.

Dan backed away from her as she walked up onto the small beach, dripping water with each step, but he couldn’t hide from her the sight of his rampant penis, now even more impressive in its full glory.

His mouth fell open as she came closer to him. What are you doing, miss? You shouldn’t be here with nothing on.

Neither of us should be here, she said. And neither of us should be naked.

She felt no embarrassment at being so close to him. The unease was almost entirely with him. Was that the weather having its wicked way with her once again? Was the constant heat pushing aside all her restraint and leaving her wide open to uninhibited voyeurism? Her mind went off into a whirl of disjointed thoughts. Would he enjoy the sight of her cunny as much as she was enjoying the sight of his cock? She hoped so. She wanted to see how he reacted to his close-up scrutiny of her body.

I thought there was no one around, he said.

And I didn’t expect to see anyone else when I came here. Is this where you come when you want to play with your cock? The words came out unexpectedly. How could she possibly have intended to ask such a coarse question?

He blinked in astonishment. Is it a sin, miss?

I don’t know. She ran one hand down between her thighs. If it is I’m as guilty as you. I came here because I thought it might be nice to lie in the sun and feel my cunny.

Your cunny? He frowned and then allowed a spark of understanding to light up his eyes. Oh, you mean your cunt?

Cunt? Is that what you call it? She recalled Colleen O’Callaghan, an Irish maid she had met in Exeter, telling her that her special place was called her cunny. No one had told her it was also called a cunt.

Maybe that’s too coarse a word for you, miss. You being a gentlewoman.

A gentlewoman wouldn’t be standing here without a stitch of clothing, Dan.

I suppose you’re right. Well, what are you going to do now, miss?

I’d like to suck your cock. She never was quite sure what came over her, what induced her to make such a statement of intent. Was it another mistake caused, once again, by the heat of the moment? Was it the sensual feeling of being naked and alone with Dan? Or was it the sight of his huge penis standing to attention as if saluting her. Her father, a prim and decent vicar, would have been horrified. Worse still, Dewy would have been shocked. But Dewy had fucked Virginia Windlesham and that still rankled in her mind. Well, what was good for Dewy was also good for her.

You want to do what, miss? He sounded shocked.

Don’t you want me to suck you? She heard herself saying it as if she was listening to someone else, as if the words were coming from someone else’s mouth. And, deep down, she knew that she wanted to do more than simply suck his cock, she wanted that huge organ inside her cunny. She wanted to feel that mighty weapon conquering her inhibitions, driving its way into her body, filling her completely.

A lady like you shouldn’t be saying such things, miss.

"But I am saying it, Dan."

God forgive me, but you’re getting me really excited, miss. He put his hands to her shoulders and there was something soft and poignant about the way he touched her. He was a man who had undoubtedly slaked his sexual appetite with Plymouth prostitutes and yet, here on this beach, he seemed to be no threat to her. Rather, he was a tender opportunity she couldn’t resist.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat faster. Before he could stop her, she put her hand around his shaft and knelt in front of him. It’s so big, isn’t it? So big and so thick. She leaned towards him and kissed the tip before opening her lips to run her tongue along its magnificent length.

This was wrong! It was so very wrong, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She had to do it. It was the only way she could address her deep, insatiable longing.

She looked up into his eyes and saw sadness as well as a passion she couldn’t ignore. It was so clear that he