Wild Girl Ch. 01

It is a truth not universally acknowledged that not every woman of marriageable age is in a rush to fulfil their Mama's ambition to see them well-matched. Lizzie Wild's view was that there was no hurry; or at least that was what she told Mama. Lady Jane Wild was not a woman to be trifled with, as Lord Wild would have confirmed, had she permitted him to answer such a question, but Lizzie, ah well, Lizzie was another matter. She was the sole person in the world who could charm Lady Jane. It was understandable why men should have been dazzled by Lady Elizabeth. Blonde, blue-eyed and with a figure that could have been designed for the fashionable empire silhouette dresses, with their high waistline, which gave prominence to the bust, Lizzie was the classic English beauty. Her older sister, Gwen, had always resented the fact that Lizzie's beauty eclipsed her own, but what she disliked most of all was the charm that went with it. Lizzie had that gift of making the person to whom she was talking feel like they were the most important person in the world; and she was charming and considerate - most of the time. There was another side to Lizzie, but it was one she kept hidden from most people. Lizzie's dislike of the idea of marriage was nothing to do with wanting to wait to see what eligible beau might come on to her during the London season, and everything to do with Lucy Parsons. If there was a side to Lizzie which was hidden from public view, there was a whole persona of Lucy's which was known only to those whom she chose to reveal it. Lizzie had discovered it entirely by accident when she had been returning from town the year after which she had turned eighteen.

The coach had been about fifteen minutes from town, skirting the old woodlands which bordered the family estate when it had suddenly stopped. Two of her fellow passengers had grumbled, but when the door suddenly opened and they had been ordered to descend from the coach at pistol point, they quietened down. The two women, their husbands and Lizzie had all got out of the coach. The highwayman was masked.

'You will give me all your jewellery and any ready money you have. Failure to comply will result in punishment. Do it, now!'

One of the husbands stepped forward as though to lunge at the highwayman, only to be met with a rapier thrust to the shoulder.

'You really do not want to test how quickly I can use the rapier along with the pistol.'

That was enough for the passengers to comply with their instructions. When the highwayman reached Lizzie, he stopped. She felt herself blushing.

'My, my, you are a pretty little one. You may keep your jewels in return for a kiss.'

Lizzie looked at him. The other passengers looked at her.

'You should get back into the coach,' the highwayman told them.

Once they had complied, Lizzie found herself alone with the highwayman.

'Well,' she said, 'you can't kiss me with your face covered.'

'You're a bold woman, I like that. Now, take your cloak off and get ready to be kissed.'

Lizzie did as she was told. The next thing she felt was lips on hers, and hands behind her pulling her into the highwayman's chest. Except it was not firm and muscled, as she had expected, it was soft, like her own, and she felt another pair of nipples press against hers. She was being kissed by another woman. She opened her lips and let the woman push her tongue in, and she felt a hand pulling her closer. Then it stopped.

'I wanted that. I want more of you. Do you ever come into Tiverton?'

Bewildered, but excited, Lizzie said she did.

'I shall be at the Admiral Benbow inn on Saturday next, if you can be there....'

With that, she kissed Lizzie once more, then vaulting onto her horse, she sped off into the gathering dusk.

'Are you safe, Miss?' The coach driver, who had been in the coach with the others was the first to emerge.

'Yes, yes I am, the scoundrel just wanted to kiss me.'

'You were very brave, Miss. If you would care for a drink to steady your nerves, I have a flask here.'

Lizzie had gratefully taken up the offer, and the ride into town was taken up with discussion of what had happened. The men were solicitous, and the woman sympathetic. They reported what had happened to the local Watch, and Lady Wild was suitably furious when she had discovered what had happened. She'd have been even more so had she known what had happened the following Saturday.

That night, after Agnes, her maid, had undressed her, Lizzie was conscious of feeling hot. It felt like her body needed something to cool it down. There was that familiar tingling between her thighs, but this time it refused to go away. Slipping her hand under her nightgown, Lizzie was shocked at how wet and hot her slit was. She cupped it with her palm and rocked back and forth, pressing harder with each movement, the coarse hairs rubbing against her palm. Her nipples were hard as stones and ached. She squeezed her left nipple with her finger and thumb. It was as though she was no longer in charge of her body, but had to respond, urgently, to the signals it was sending. Stuffing her drawers into her mouth to stop anyone hearing her, Lizzie played with her quim until she felt a huge shudder shoot through her body; her hand was wet with her own juices. All the time she was rubbing herself, she was thinking about that kiss. Her climax came as she imagined surrendering herself to the woman who had kissed her.

Lizzie slept well, but the tingling was there in the morning, and she decided to see to herself again before Agnes came in, but no sooner had her hand reached her over-heated quim than there was a knock on the door. She felt herself blushing as Agnes came in.

'Will you be breakfasting, Miss?'

Lizzie replied she would and told Agnes to come back to dress her after she had washed.

As she stood there, later, in just her under things, with Agnes dressing her, Lizzie was almost overcome with an urge to ask her maid to help with her feelings; but she stopped herself.

'Would you care to come into Tiverton with me on Saturday, Agnes?'

'Is her ladyship in favour of it, Miss?'

'She is, Agnes, and I know you like that apprentice at the blacksmiths. If I cover for you doing that, I'd expect your discretion in return.'

Agnes blushed prettily.

'Of course, Miss, I shall tell her ladyship whatever you want.'

Agnes knew better than to ask questions, and besides, she was intrigued. The bedroom smelt of feminine odours, and it was clear from the bedsheet that Miss Lizzie had been indulging herself; she imagined it must be an assignation with some gentleman. Still, if it allowed her time with her Will, she was not going to complain.

Even her mother noticed that Lizzie was somewhat distracted.

'I hope that you will recover from your ordeal my love. If you want, I can arrange for Dr Trelawny to come to see you.'

'Oh, thank you Mama, but I think I just need time. A trip into town should be just the ticket.'

That night, Lizzie indulged herself again, thinking of the woman's firm grip on her. She so wanted to kiss her. She wanted to be kissed. She wanted things to be done to her. She was not sure what those things were, but it was at the thought of the woman controlling her that she again hit her climax.

Saturday morning dawn bright and sunny. Lizzie dressed with care, getting Agnes to choose her best shift and her favourite dress which, she thought, set her bosom off to its best advantage.

'Oh Miss, you do look a treat!'

'Thank you, Agnes, I am sure Will will feel the same about you.'

Both women were in a state of arousal as the coachman drove them into town. Agnes looked at her Mistress, who looked back.

'Oh Miss, I hope you enjoy yourself!'

Lizzie began to say that she did not have any idea what her maid was talking about, but instead blushed and giggled.

'Shall you, Agnes?'

'Oh, I will Miss. Will has access to the storeroom at the smithy, and we shall find time for some fun. What about you Miss?'

'I will be at the Admiral Benbow. Give me a couple of hours.'

It all felt every conspiratorial, and the class barriers that usually divided them, disappeared as they became just two young women, anxious about what awaited them, finding comfort in their comradeship.

At the inn, they went their separate ways.

It was with some trepidation that Lizzie went in. She was conscious of men looking at her, but screwing her courage to the sticking point, she asked the woman behind the counter whether there was a message for her.

The woman, older, looked at her with interest.

'Would you be Miss Lucy's guest? She's upstairs in room 2.'

The way in which the lady had said the words made Lizzie squirm. It was as though she knew something.

Her breathing heavy, her heart a flutter, Lizzie knocked on the door.

'It's open, come in.'

There, sprawled in an armchair, sat the woman. Her complexion was swarthy, as though there was something in her that was not English. She was wearing a man's shirt, open to the waist, with britches and boots; her hair was down. She gave Lizzie the sort of look which Lizzie had seen horse dealers giving brood mares.

'You came, little one.'

'Yes, yes I did.'

'Take your cloak off and then let me look at you.'

As though in a daze, Lizzie did as she was told.

'Can you undress without a maid, Lady Lizzie?'

Lizzie looked at her, shocked, she knew her identity.

'I can.'

'You can what?'

The woman's gaze seemed to penetrate to her innermost parts. Lizzie suddenly knew the meaning of the question, which had momentarily puzzled her.

'I can undress myself, Miss.'

'Good girl. Do it!'

Those first two words felt like a rapier stab to some inner fastness where her secret desires were stored. She was Lady Elizabeth Wild, daughter of one of the largest landowners in Devon, and yet here she was calling this strange woman 'Miss,' and loving it.

She took her dress off and folded it.

'Petticoat too, girl.'

As she removed her petticoat, Lizzie was conscious that she was baring all.

'I see that you did not bother with drawers, I suppose posh girls like you don't, do you?'

'No, Miss.'

'Open your legs, girl, I want to inspect you.'

The very thought of this controlling woman inspecting her made Lizzie go weak at the knees.

'You have nice tits, girl, do men like them?'

The woman cupped them, holding them up and feeling her nipples.

'Yes Miss.'

'Are you a virgin?'

'Yes Miss, I am a virgin,' Lizzie said, catching her breath; all of a sudden it was hard to breath.

'Do you still have your hymen, girl?'

'No, Miss, I tore it while out riding.'

'Good, so there will be no mess when I fuck you.'

'F, fuck me, Miss?'

'You are going to feel my girlcock inside you, Lady Lizzie, and you are going to me my broodmare, understand?'

Lizzie did not understand at all. Of course, she knew what stallions and mares did, but this was another woman, how could they couple? She moaned as she felt the woman twist and pull her tender nipples.

'On your knees your ladyship.'

The invocation of her title as part of such a degrading command caused Lizzie's quim to quiver; she felt the wetness. This was what she wanted. She knelt at once.

'Look up at me, girl, and now, unbutton my breeches.'

Lizzie did as she was told, and as she did so, something like a leather-coated truncheon emerge to her startled gaze. Did women have penises too? Then she noticed it was attached to some sort of harness.

'Suck it, get it wet, it's going in you soon.'

Lizzie felt the woman's hands on her head. She opened her mouth, gagging slightly at the taste, and then began to suck, getting it wet and slippery - just as she was herself. She felt a pat on her head.

'Good girl, Lizzie, now, get into breeding position.'

The very words, and the tone in which they were uttered, made her hot and eager to do as she was told. She wanted her quim filled. No, it was more than that, her quim demanded to be filled.

'Head down, Lizzie, arse up and I want that juicy cunt on show.'

She had heard that low and vulgar word, but surely it could not be applied to herself; yet the very thought of it made her cunt wetter.

She got into position, feeling utterly vulnerable. She was unaware that the woman could see how wet she was, but the way her fingers were brushing her cunt would have given the game away.

Lizzie felt the woman guiding the truncheon to her wetness, and she instinctively

pushed her sexy arse back as she felt the phallus enter her, gripping it tight as she felt it stretching and filling her. She moaned loudly.

'Oh, oh, oh, it is so big, you can't get all that in me, surely?'

'You'll be amazed what your cunt can take Lizzie. Fuck, you're dripping wet!'

As the woman gripped her hips and began to thrust in and out, Lizzie followed her thrusts; her cunt squelched with each thrust. Her feelings engulfed her. She had never felt anything like this. Although stretched, she discovered that she could grip the phallus and that doing so sent waves of pleasure shooting through her body. The button at the top of her cunt ached, she wanted to touch it. But could she? How could she admit to this woman that she needed to rub herself?

Even as Lizzie struggled with the dilemma, another one hit her as she felt a finger rimming her rosebud. The fading part of her senses wanted to revolt against the touch, the growing lust within her wanted that hole filling too. She wrestled with herself for a moment. That was dirty, you shouldn't touch yourself there. But even as she wrestled, she felt saliva touch her there, and the finger press harder. She pressed back. She was beyond caring now. Her whole body was on fire, wanting to be owned, defiled and used. Her cunt gripped the phallus.

'Do you need something my lady?'

Her cunt was gripping and unclenching the phallus as though her life depended on it. Her voice was shaking with passion as she replied:

'Oh, God! Please! Yes!! Do that to me. TAKE ME. PLEEEEEASE! NOW PLEEEAAAASE

DON'T STOP, FUCK ME. PLEASE FUCK ME!'

She no longer cared who heard her. She knew what she wanted.

'Please put that up my arse!'

'Oh, her ladyship wants to be buggered does she, randy little slut!'

Lizzie was gasping and moaning, she no longer had any will to do anything except continue to surrender to the feelings that were now dominating her consciousness. This was what those late-night urges needed, wanted, nay, demanded. Moaning loudly, she pressed herself back against the woman. She felt a sharp slap on her arse cheeks, which sent a shaft of pleasure shooting through her.

'Touch yourself, you little whore!'

Shakily leaning on one hand, Lizzie moved the other between her thighs, almost afraid to touch herself. The sensations coursing through her body were taking her to new heights of pleasure; every fibre of her being was lost in the moment, in raptures if ecstasy. She felt the woman's mound pressed tight against her arse and rubbed and rubbed until her body could take no more, her cunt squelching as the leather girlcock pressed in and pulled out. Surrendering to it, her hand a blur she came hard, not just once, but in a rolling thunder of orgasmic joy. She felt like a girl who had just became a woman. Her knees gave way. Her head swam. Everything went black.

'My, my, you did enjoy that, didn't you?'

Her cornflower blue eyes opening, Lizzie looked into the dark brown eyes of the woman.

'What happened?'

'You passed out, you little slut!"

But there was a tenderness in the words, matched by the way the other woman cradled her head.

'Oh gosh, I'm sorry!"

The woman smiled.

'Well, before we continue, you ought to at least know my name. I'm Lucy, Lucy Parsons.'

Lizzie cringed inwardly. She'd let herself be fucked by a woman, and a woman whose name she did not know. Maybe she was a slut?

'Now, your ladyship, I don't know how much time you have, but my cunt needs to ride your face. Use your tongue well!'

Lizzie wanted to ask what she meant, but before she could, Lucy's hair was rubbing her cheeks, and her wet slit was coating her face. Instinctively, Lizzie used her tongue, and feeling the hard bud against it, she pressed and flicked. Lucy's thighs gripped her head as she rode Lizzie's face.

'Fuck, yes Lizzie, just there, press, fuck, fuck, FUCKKKKK!'

Lucy had been so on the edge that it took only the feel of Lizzie's tongue on her clit for her to orgasm. Lizzie felt and tasted her juices as they flooded her nose and mouth. She found a way to push her tongue up into Lucy's wetness, which made her gasp and grind some more. It took two more spasms before Lucy rolled off, lying next to Lizzie.

'Was that really the first time you've licked cunt?'

Lying back, luxuriating in the feeling that she had given Lucy the pleasure which she herself had received, Lizzie confessed it was.

'Fuck me, girl! If that's what you can do with no training, I can't wait to see what you can do after I have taught you.'

Lizzie's heart rose. She'd not even thought beyond this meeting, but the idea that Lucy wanted to see her again warmed her very soul.

'Lucy, I'd love you to train me!'

Leaning up on one elbow and looking down at Lizzie, her eyes twinkled:

'Good job, my girl, because that is precisely what I am going to do.'