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Offline Sweetums

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This is a work of fiction. Neither the author nor this website condone underage sex among persons under 18 years of age in real life. Plus, in real life, ew. Fantasy is cool and all, but real life has consequences and breaks lives. Try approaching people approximately your own age and life stage for sex, or at the very least over 18, pretty please. Don’t use your seductive or other powers to fuck up young people’s lives; it’s straight up evil.

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Chapter 1: Willard

Saturday, 18 September 1880.

I start this new journal on this momentous occasion! Also, it’s good news that I have been able to keep my journals from my childhood. I have heard that my new husband values my skill in letters. I’m very thankful. I’ve heard that some husbands don’t want their wives to be educated or practice such skills as reading or writing, but instead want them to stay only to the wifely skills. I’m grateful that my husband is more enlightened.

Most important news first: I survived my wedding night with only a little torment! It was indeed very frightening, but in fact it was better than anything ever! Even though my husband Willard is 50 years, he still has great vigor in him, and he seemed very pleased with me also, so I am content. I felt unbelievably wonderful sensations I will try to describe below. I think I will enjoy this part of married life very much!

Since this is a new journal, let me describe myself at this time. My name is Athalia Smith now, my maiden last name being left behind! I am thirteen years of age. That is the righteous age of marriage around these parts, for both boys and girls, and should be everywhere as far as my papa is concerned, and he’s a wise man. I’ve heard some religions think it’s too young and therefore sinful. No wonder all those fanciful people back east are dying out! Everybody knows that boys start to need a woman for their health around that age, and also nature endows girls to bear fruit starting that age, and since this is the most important function of a woman as God clearly indicates in his design, it stands to reason that it best be started as early as possible!

I am about average height for a girl my age, so some inches below five feet, and I don’t know my weight. Okay, I’m a little skinny, but I have a good bush on me and bleeding that indicates I’m ripe. My breasts are not yet full, but they are growing, and I am sure they will be ready in about a year, God willing, when it is time for me to suckle my first. I hear they grow a lot as the child is growing inside.

I hear I am quite beautiful, though I don’t see it myself. All the farms wanted me, and in the end the most prestigious farm in the whole valley, perhaps in the entire territory of Utah, the renowned Willard Smith, offered the most advantage to my birth family in exchange for me, more than anyone has heard of before. It’s comforting to know I’m treasured so highly! I suppose now I am a famous lady, like Helen of Troy!

I suppose before getting to the good stuff I should describe my lovely wedding. Willard’s lovely family was there of course, not all of them as I understand, but some of his more favored wives, some of whom look pretty old, and a few of his younger sons, since somebody was needed to run the farm that day. One of his younger wives in attendance has beautiful hair and eyes but wears a mask over her lower face. I asked about it and heard she lost part of her jaw from an infection, the poor girl. It was good grace they were able to save her. My understanding is that this was only a small number of my new family from the Smith farm, but they did not want to overwhelm the pews and make my family feel small (as they are, by comparison, to be honest).

I am digressing again! From my side, there was my whole family, including my father, my mother, my father’s other two wives (my mother being his first wife), my older brothers, and all the children down to babes in arms. Fill those pews! We did our side of the church proud, considering.

It was all a blur! The preacher told us what to say and we said it. Willard kissed me, and everybody cheered. It seemed like so many people appeared from nowhere to wish us well. So many people! So much food!

Emma, Willard’s first wife, took me aside before I could get to the banquet and gave me a small plate of the best things on the table. She said so many nice things to me, and said she would take care of me like I was her own daughter. By the way, I heard she was barren, the poor woman! But so sweet! She advised me to only eat the food on the plate, because if I stuffed myself as any person should necessarily do in the presence of so much food, I would be sick and miserable when the time came in the evening for me to consummate my marriage to Willard. So helpful!

I must also describe my new husband! In physical features, he is not unpleasant. He has a very intelligent face I think, worn by a lifetime of work out of doors. His hands are gnarled but strong. He is hugely tall, over six feet I recokon, and muscular, not too thin. He towered over me in the ceremony. It must have looked like a giant plowing ox marrying a fawn!

Now for what all my avid readers (of nobody!) is burning to know. What was it like for my giant plowing ox to sow me for my very first time? I want to capture the wonderful feeling in words for my own sake so I can read this passage on the cold nights to keep me warm. That’s how good it was! Mostly. There was some fright and hurt, but I was quite overwhelmed by the glorious joy I received.

When we got back to the farm, Emma took me to the guest bedroom where I am now. I will be staying here until more permanent arrangements are made for me in the household. It has not much more than a bed, but Emma made a point of saying that Willard ordered a writing table be added, which it was, and all my childhood journals are here, bringing me much comfort, plus a new journal, a present from my new family. This is the journal I’m writing in now!

As soon as Emma got me settled with the few things I had brought with me, Willard arrived with a big smile on his face, and Emma left us, after Willard and Emma kissed and had a private chuckle together. I guessed they were remembering their own wedding night together fondly, and this gave me courage. I was shaking. As all of us girls have I’m sure, I have heard horrible stories. Some of those horrible stories turned out to be true, but not really, because hearing a thing discussed matter-of-factly is not the same as experiencing a thing. For example, having a bowel movement. If you just describe it, it sounds horrific and unbearable. In real life, sure, it’s a little stinky (sometimes a lot stinky!), it’s a little messy, but it’s just a natural part of life that can easily and happily be borne.

First, he bent over and kissed me, just like we were still at church. He also told me that he loved me and that I pleased him, and I must have been smiling up a storm, because then he started talking all about my beautiful smile and how proud he would be to take me traveling with him! All these kisses and his loving words did something to me. I wasn’t so scared.

He sat me down on the bed and kissed me some more. I started to feel delicious in my body, I don’t know any other way to describe it. You know when a cat stretches out very completely? It’s like my body wanted to do that, just stretch all around him. He kissed me more and more passionately, with our tongues lapping at each other and everything. I was doing my best and trying to keep up with him. He was smiling and pleased. My guts were churning, but not in a sick way. I had again a grateful thought towards Emma for steering me away from that banquet table.

Then he started to feel my body, to unwrap his gift, I suppose, God’s gift to man. He touched my breasts through my dress and I discovered, as he did, that my nipples were all puckered up. He chuckled, so I suppose that’s a good sign that a woman’s body is getting ready to be bred. Then, still kissing me constantly, his hand went down under my dress and between my legs, and that’s when the magic really started.

Of course, I know that the hole you pee from is also the hole you bleed from and the hole a man breeds you in and also where babies come out (a remaining very, very scary thought! But I interrupt myself). I didn’t even have a good word for my front hole until my husband called it my “cunt” or “cunny.” I think “cunny” is more friendly because I used “cunt” in front of him after he said it, and he told me ladies should not use such language. So “cunny” it is. Anyway, and I know that it felt pretty good to rub myself there, like wiping off after peeing, it felt good. So it started out with his hand feeling like that, like he was wiping me off through my bloomers, and it felt just fine, pretty good.

Then I realized that along with the kissing or something it felt really good! Like that cat-stretching thing I described earlier, but throughout my body, especially in my hips. I started to feel full in my cunny. Not going-to-the-bathroom full, just full. “Delightful pressure” might be a good way to describe it. And his fingers were pressing and circling around down there right on my cunny hole and around the outside of it. And I thought I was really sweating down there between my legs, but since then I found out it’s a woman’s fluids that were welling up in me for easing a man’s way in me.

Then Willard got up and said it was time for me to undress. I stood up off the bed and staggered a little, and we both had a chuckle at my clumsiness. It took me a few minutes of wrestling around and a few helpful tugs from Willard, but eventually the dress was on the floor. Then he asked me to pull off my bloomers. Then he saw me as only my mother had seen me up to this point, as God has us be born!

Willard was beaming and obviously delighted, but more than that, I could see that he was holding himself back from pouncing on me, you know, like a cat does when he knows he would be misbehaving if he did? I swear, he was almost drooling like he wanted to eat me. As it turns out, I was not far from wrong!

He told me to lie on my back on the bed and spread my legs wide. I thought to myself surely this was the moment he would remove his clothes and stick it in, but I was wrong. He climbed on the bed too, still in his wedding clothes, looking intently at my cunny. I thought maybe he was shy of baring himself, so I said something like I was sure my husband would look wonderful without his clothes, and he thanked me kindly. Then he did something surprising. He started kissing my cunny hole, with his tongue and everything, just like it was another mouth almost.

I jumped and yelped out loud when he did this, because it was so surprising, but he was ready for my reaction, I suppose, because he grabbed me immediately and held me still. Of course, I didn’t know what to think at first, but as soon as I was done being so surprised, I felt a terrible rushing tingling warmth that was already spreading out from the source of his work, spreading throughout my entire body. I felt myself shivering as though cold, but it was not cold. It felt good, so good! I can’t describe it any better. It felt so good, it’s like there was nothing in the world except his mouth kissing all around my delighted hole and his strong hands holding me down.

As he continued to work his mouth, I realized my hips were pushing up and down like they were trying to get away from him, but I didn’t want to get away at all. I just felt so antsy and it just felt so good for me to push my hips all the way up and then stretch them all the way back like a cat again and again. Willard, again, seemed to be ready for this, and kept his mouth locked between my legs like a cat that has a bigger prey by the neck.

Then everything exploded, is the best way I can put it. I had an explosion of impossibly good satisfying feelings. Willard told me after that it is called a crisis or a climax, and that he would have one later (which did he ever, but I’m ahead of myself again!). Anyway, my climax happened, and I must have shouted like I was dying, a real full-throated shriek like a pig being slaughtered, for about a minute (okay, less, but it felt like forever!). When I came back to my senses, I heard lots of laughing and cheering and clapping outside the door, and all of a sudden I thought I would die of embarrassment!

Willard was prepared for this, too. He let me know, and I knew this, but had forgotten, that it was customary for some of the wedding party to wait outside the newlyweds’ door, to stand vigil to see to it that the marriage was consummated and therefore truly and fully marriage in the eyes of both God and man. It was traditional. Still, to me it felt like a very personal intrusion.

I started to tell him how sorry I was to yell out like that, but he stopped me, assuring me that the louder I screamed, the more often I screamed, the better, since the people out there would partly judge his skill as a husband on how loudly and how often I screamed. But also, I should do it only as I felt a want to, since he wants more than anything fair judgment from all, and especially from me. I beamed up at him and promised him I would scream loud and proud for him whenever I felt it (not knowing whether I could even help it, which I don’t think I would be able to stop myself!), and so he would know how much I loved his ministrations to me.

So I was naked, my husband smiling and chatting with me from between my legs, having had my first climax, with my woman’s fluids all over my husband’s face, all over inside my thighs I could feel, and wetting the bed. This was not what I had expected so far. It was so much messier and also so much better!

Willard told me it was about time for him to have some fun, and I told him it’s about time considering all the hard work he did to bring me joy, and we laughed. He climbed off the bed and undressed quickly. I think he’s the first man I’ve ever seen fully naked, but of course I’ve seen all the parts of boys and men before. It’s hard to avoid in a house full of people! He was a bit wrinkly, which is to be expected in an old man like him, but I could see he was still pretty strong and vital, and this gave me hope for a good long marriage.

His member stood up pretty strong as it came out. There was immediate reaction in my belly, a shiver, seeing it and knowing that he was ready to breed me, as far as I could tell. He asked me whether I had learned to service a man yet, or whether I had ever serviced any of my brothers or elders. I responded that I didn’t know quite what he meant. He climbed back on the bed and held his member up to my face. I looked at him. He looked very excited. I didn’t know what to do. Then he said, there would be time to learn, and got back off the bed.

He hauled me with no effort over to the edge of the bed, so my butt was right at the edge of the bed. Then he poked the tip of his member into my cunny hole. I shut my eyes and got ready to scream in pain, because this was the part my mother had told me about. I could feel him begin to push it inside me and rock it back and forth a little.

It felt wonderful! Like the kissing down there, but more pressure, less intensity, with more and more wonderful pressure that made me feel like screaming, but I didn’t scream, because I wanted to wait for my climax, which I could feel, now that I’d had one before, I could feel it was soon coming. Also, the knowledge that nature was taking its course and that I was finally being bred was thrilling and made me shiver with delight.

Pretty soon, I felt deliciously all stretched out and like he was poking my womb. He was all the way in there because his hips were up against me, all right. I felt like I was right about to do something. Then he started moving in and out of me, and pretty much right then I had another climax, but what came out of me this time was not a scream, it sounded to me more like, “Awwwww! Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh…” and it just kept going for a while. I must have been loud enough, because I heard an embarrassing whistle outside the door, just so we knew they were listening intently, I suppose. But I didn’t care. I was busy being bred by my man, and I felt completely natural and wonderful.

My husband started talking to me again then, while he was having his pleasure in me, telling me how beautiful I was, how proud he was that I was his, how excited his cock felt being inside me, that’s what he called it, how tight my cunt or cunny was (that’s when I learned the words). I know what he meant! The pressure of his member moving in and out of me was exhilarating in an indescribable way. A new world opened up for me in those minutes. And then another climax hit me. “Huh!” Then as it continued, I wanted the world to know how good I felt, so I shouted “BwaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!” until it was done.

More cheering from outside. I guess I could get used to it. I was feeling so good, it felt nasty knowing those people out there all knew what was happening to me. It felt almost like they all had their members in me too and were doing me too. And with that thought, I’m kind of shamed to say, but I had another climax and shouted some more. But I promised myself long ago I would not keep secrets in this journal, so I’m writing it down as it happened.

It seemed like I was bathed in an eternity of pleasure for a long while and lost all reason. There were scratches on Willard’s arm I don’t remember making. Finally, the ultimate happened, and Willard had his climax inside me. How can I describe it? He pushed in extra hard and went rigid, was the first thing I noticed, and made a little grunt, much more stoic than me, which befits a man, but I could tell unmistakably by the look on his face that he was busy having his climax. When he was done feeling his pleasure, he pulled out his member and collapsed on the bed next to me.

Willard slowly raised himself and examined his member. Then he said, “We have a problem.” I really didn’t understand at first. Then he fussed around in his wedding suit for a moment and produced a penknife. He grabbed my bloomers and poked the inside of his upper arm, drawing blood. I was frightened and didn’t know what he was doing, so I just stayed quiet and watched. Then he started dabbing the blood away with my bloomers, and said, “We’ll give you a lot, okay?” Again, I was mystified. Then I remembered that my mother said it would hurt a lot, which it didn’t at all, and that there would be blood. Finally, I understood. All those people out there, they were waiting for blood. My husband was giving it to them out of his own body. I think I’m starting to understand what love is and why a husband and wife have to be so close.

After he pressed the bloomers to his wound for a while, his arm stopped bleeding. He walked to the door and handed out the bloody bloomers. There was whooping, cheering, and yelling outside as he shut the door on them. The cheering continued for a few minutes, then it sounded like they finally wandered off.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Willard answered it. It was Emma. They exchanged more pleasantries and kind words between them, while I, watching them, dreamed of what it must be like to have been married to my man for 37 years as Emma had been. What heaven! I felt so content and lucky watching my husband’s and sister wife’s whispering and chuckling, knowing that this kind of love, and perhaps even a new life, was now growing inside of me.

Willard directed me to dress in a shift and to follow Emma down the hall. He was going to rest for a few minutes. I did it gladly, hoping he would calm down, rest, and perhaps even recuperate. On the way down the hall, Emma showed me an interesting convenience. My room is on the second floor. She showed me a door leading to a balcony, and on the balcony was an outhouse. She told me that I should not use this outhouse yet, but instead use the chamber pot in my bedroom for the time being, but she wanted me to know where it was just in case.

Emma ushered me into another bedroom, where she then got out a chamber pot. I thought that maybe she needed to relieve herself, so I turned away. She set the chamber pot there, and then left the room, saying she would return shortly.

A few minutes later, she returned with a large metal syringe, and I thought this must be part of the breeding procedure I hadn’t heard about, because it looked like it might normally be used for cattle or such. She had also brought a small jar of bacon grease, by the smell. She told me to bend over the bed. She exposed my backside, and I thought for sure she was going to put it into my woman hole and squirt something into me, but she didn’t.

Instead, she started to put the bacon grease on my bowel hole and then put her finger into my bowel hole! Needless to say, I was surprised. She took her finger back out, and then slowly inserted the nozzle of the syringe. I asked her what she was doing, and she said she was cleaning out my bowels. By this time I was feeling pretty full of hot liquid, which Emma assured me was water. She had me relieve myself into the chamber pot, and I did gratefully.

I asked Emma forthrightly whether Willard was going to put his member in my bottom hole. Emma explained that a man, once he gets started, needs to breed. If he damages one hole, he will have to use one of the other two, else suffer greatly. Emma didn’t know about the deception with the blood, which must make it very secret, so I was certainly not going to be stupid enough to tell her.

She mentioned two other holes, so I started counting and asking Emma. Then I heard what it meant to service a man. So that solved the mystery of what Willard had wanted me to do before.

A second application of the syringe saw the water run clear into the second chamber pot, and I was thankfully finished with the water part. Then Emma bent me over the bed once again and worked more and more bacon grease into my bottom hole. It was uncomfortable at first, but after a while it started to just kind of tickle and buzz.

Emma told me that she had done this for our husband on many previous wedding nights, and it seemed to her I was a lucky and promising girl, which I took as a compliment. With this, she allowed me to dress again in my shift, handed me the small jar of bacon grease, and then led me back down the hall to my room, where my husband answered the door.

Emma and Willard said such nice things about me to each other. I was filled with love for them both, and hugged both my husband and my sister wife against me passionately. They joined the hug, and I was nestled between them, I could hear and feel them kissing passionately above me. I wondered whether my husband ever took more than one wife to bed, and I had a momentary thrill in my belly from the thought of cuddling naked with these two while our husband had his pleasure with her. Before I had been bred, I would never have had such thoughts.

Willard and I took our leave, went back in the room, and closed the door. Immediately, since I already knew what he needed, I jumped up to the middle of the bed, set myself firmly on my knees and elbows, and exposed my backside to him. He laughed out loud, exclaiming, “My, you are an eager little slut!” I don’t know what a slut is yet, but I could tell he was greatly pleased, so I smiled back at him.

I had set the bacon grease on the dresser. He took off his robe and began to spread the bacon grease on his member, which looked a little tired and droopy compared to before. While he rubbed his member up and down, he asked me to wiggle my butt for him, which I did. He taught me the word “bunghole” and told me that he would have to be as hard as algebra to get into mine. I giggled at this. Bunghole must be a very dirty word. I knew nothing of algebra, except it was harder than figures. I was learning a whole new vocabulary.

He asked me to say how much I wanted it. I decided to be honest and ask for it in my cunny, which is what I really wanted. I promised solemnly to cry out for him a lot if he did. He replied that although he would enjoy it more than anything, the purpose of the wedding night is for him to cleave fully to me, and for that reason, he should leave no stone unturned.

I agreed happily, trusting in his wisdom. Then I did my best to do what he asked before and beg him to put it in my bunghole. He climbed on the bed and deftly levered the tip of his member into my bunghole. I was full of expectation as Willard slowly, and with much greater care than the front hole, slowly forced my backside more and more open. Suddenly, it began to hurt quite a lot. I yelled and Willard stopped.

He asked me to try to push him out with my guts. I did as he ordered and it started to feel better, but it still hurt, and it felt more wrong than ever. I kept trying to “shit him out” as he asked, but I could feel him sliding in more. Suddenly, I felt his hips against my backside. He was all the way inside me. I was so surprised by this that I tensed up, and it started hurting a lot again. I was starting to learn what it felt like to calm down my backside. As he rested there, I tried my best to calm down like I was resting my body for sleep, and also to bear down in my guts a little to push him out. Willard said I was pleasing him greatly.

Although in pain, I really was happy to be pleasing my husband. I had been told many times that a wife’s duties in the bedroom would be very unpleasant and very dirty, and so far they were not so bad. As we were resting, I asked him if it would get easier, and he promised me it would. With that, he began moving, and there was pain, pain, pain around my opening as he moved it in and out. I breathed deeply and endured it as he continued to have his pleasure in me, content, though in pain, that he was enjoying this.

The pain did not really subside much, but, for lack of a better way to say it, I started to have thoughts about what we were doing and especially how it was going to end that distracted me farther and farther away from the pain. I could feel, now that he was moving, that Willard was getting more and more excited in me. I started hoping, because I knew he was an old man and might not be able to accomplish it, that he would finish his pleasure and shoot his seed into my behind as well. I knew he would have such joy doing it, because I had already felt that joy many times myself earlier, many more times than his one time. I started praying quietly to God to give him another time.

As I prayed, it was like the Lord reached down, because I felt my loins quiver with excitement. I felt my cunny open up wetly, trying to suckle the juice she knew was soon coming. I felt, as I stayed very quiet and waited for him to finish, a great excitement building in me. In fact, I found myself bewilderingly close to another climax. Then Willard shouted loud, strained, and I swear, I could feel him release his seed in my backside. At the same time, a great wave of a climax washed through me, washing away, it seemed, all the pain and torment, and leaving only pleasure in its wake. I whined like a mother dog giving birth as I felt his seed spread warmly in my backside.

It was dark outside by now. He asked if my suffering had been great, and I told him that my prayer had been answered and about my climax. He told me again I was a wonder. Willard’s member fell from my bunghole, and he got up and washed it with water from the pitcher into the basin. After he cleaned himself off, he wiped the bacon grease off my stinging bottom with a damp cloth. At least doing it this other way was cleaner, without his juices and my juices spilling out everywhere and making a mess.

We climbed under the covers, naked together. I was too happy to sleep. He said he could tell that indeed it was my first time for both holes. He said that some of my sister wives had come to him on their wedding nights suspiciously easy to take up the backside, though he was quite sure they were otherwise proper virgins. He told me he was surprised that I had come to him so “exquisitely beautiful,” so “saucy,” and yet clearly so untouched by the hand of man or boy. I didn’t really want to hear this about my sister wives, but I expect it was the first of many confidences I would need to bear as a dear and trusted wife of my husband. I was a little disgusted but mostly proud that he told me.

Willard was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but I begged him to let me try to service him, and I reminded him, as Emma had taught me, of his duty to explore all three of my holes on our wedding night. He relented and pulled back the blankets. I stroked his limp sleepy member into my mouth. I could still taste bacon and a little of my stink on it. As it woke up, it quickly got too big to fit in my mouth at all. I got the bacon grease from the dresser and started stroking it with both hands like I’d seen him do earlier.

After a while, he got desirous again, and asked me to sit on it with my cunny while he lay there, as he was still exhausted. I did so happily, and slid right down on him, as I was so very ready to have him in my cunny once more. I didn’t really know how to move on top of him, but after a short while, I got good enough to have to stop and shout a little because I was having a climax. This continued for a while, where I would move on him for a while then need to stop and have a big climax or a littler climax.

Willard started to beg me not to stop during my climaxes, but I couldn’t help it. He started calling me a tease and a few nasty names I didn’t understand. Finally he got so impatient he rolled me off and under him, crushing me. I really couldn’t breathe or move at all like that with all his weight on me. He was pounding his member like a madman into me while the life drained out of me. Then, I suppose, as a last gasp of life, I had a climax that put all the others to shame. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, so all it could do was bounce around in me endlessly with no way to get out. I figured I was dying.

When I gasped in sweet air, I realized that Willard had finished his business with me and was off me. My whole body immediately yearned for his touch. The fluids were all leaking out in the bed, but we didn’t care. He pulled up the blankets, cuddled me close, and this time, I fell asleep like a babe in his arms.

In the morning, I woke when he pushed into me. It was still dark. I must have been excited for him still, because he slid right into me. He took me forcefully, smashing me into the bed again and suffocating me. Before I ran out of air, we climaxed together. Once again I was forced to be completely still, surrender to him, and trust that he would not kill me, and this caused me to shudder in climax for a long time until he noticed I was busy dying and let me up.

Willard said he had to work. He grabbed up his clothes and left the room. I felt like crying because I wanted him again between my legs so badly. I had been warned by Emma not to wander the house, so I stayed in my room and peed into the chamber pot. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t, so I started to write in this journal instead.

And that’s the story of my wedding night!
« Last Edit: May 14, 2020, 12:20:03 AM by Sweetums »



Offline Sweetums

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Caution: This chapter contains violence towards women.

Chapter 2: John

Saturday, 18 September 1880 (later).

Emma was just here to tell me the rules of the house. I’m upset. My papa would never allow such unnatural rules for a household. Emma explained to me righteous and strong reasons for these, but I can’t help thinking this is wrong. I trust my sister wife Emma that these are Willard’s rules, but I’m almost upset enough to demand to see him. I know I would be punished if I did.

The rules say that Willard’s eldest son John is visiting me overnight tonight, and I must “accommodate” him.

There were other rules, but the one that makes me most upset is that all women of the house (including me and all the wives, even Emma) must “accommodate” any “male” anytime, anywhere, immediately, no questions asked. And by “accommodate,” it means open your legs or anything they want of you, but mostly it's about opening your legs. And by “male,” it means anything with a dick. Emma then mentioned it includes dogs. Emma assured me horses and bulls are excluded, because their members would kill a woman provided she were not trampled first. I was not relieved at all by this assurance, thinking to myself as she said it that it would probably be better to die anyway than be defiled by random men or by beasts like I was facing.

I'm familiar with dogs and many of God's creatures, and I know that any animal would never normally be attracted to this abomination, as the beasts of God are innocent. But dogs can be trained to do evil. Someone had to train them to do it. How despicable! But now I know why Emma didn’t want me to go wandering freely out in the yard.

Despite agreeing with me wholeheartedly about the ungodliness of this rule, Emma wanted to explain why our husband had made it and how important it was. About 20 years ago, Smith farm was dying. Willard had six wives, but only five children among them. Emma was barren. Sarah, Willard’s second wife, was always a good producer, and had three at that time. Eliza had only one child, a stillborn daughter, and after that she was barren. Martha had two. Elizabeth was not getting pregnant. Willard’s sixth wife, Phebe, had a strong son, but died birthing him. So, actually, only five wives and five children remained.

Willard spoke to the doctors about this, and they assured him that the evidence, given he had so many different and apparently healthy wives, was clear: his seed was weak, and he would probably never be able to sire many children of his own no matter how many wives he had. John, Willard’s eldest son, was only seven years old at the time, but Willard had hired six extra hands to help around the farm since he had no sons to help him yet. So he spoke to each wife in turn.

Emma told me her own story by example. Emma was only 30 at the time the rule first started being made, and perhaps she could still bear children if it were possible. She agreed to be the first to visit the hands because she wanted to conceive so desperately. They were rough with her, since for the most part, they had only ever had a whore in the past if they were not virgin. Those that were not virgin were most used to sharing the whore among them for a night, so Emma began the practice of allowing them all, since otherwise fights and bickering would erupt that was even more dangerous than having so many men in a single evening.

It was bearable for Emma because Willard had prepared her so well by this time in the skills of being with a man. She was sore after each breeding with the hands, so she would wait until her turn with Willard came, then go back to the hands the next evening, then recover again. Sadly, on the next month, her bleeding still came. This went on for years with no results.

Other than Emma, who did not conceive, and Eliza, who could not conceive, the plan seemed to be working. Of the three remaining wives, all three soon became pregnant. And so, the rule was adopted. Over the years, refinements had been made. I asked why for God's sake the dogs, for they cannot get a girl with child. But she was sick at heart already at having to instruct me thus of these rules, so she begged to answer the rest of my questions to some other day.

I dread this evening. John seems a severe and angry person. I fear him.

Sunday, 19 September 1880.

Now I know why the marriage bed is said to be torment for most women. Emma prepared me somewhat for what was to come. She cleaned out my bottom and greased it as she had with Willard. She also greased up my cunny, which I assured her wouldn’t be necessary, but she disagreed without further comment. I must mention that while Emma was greasing and inserting her fingers into my cunny to fully grease it, I had feelings for her again, and came dangerously close to having a climax. I held myself back, because I was frightened about what might happen to complicate matters further.

While she was doing these things, she informed me that John required his women to be naked in the bedroom at all times and quiet as well unless asked a question. She said I should follow his orders exactly and quickly, else I would surely and swiftly be punished.

Even if I did my best, she told me I was likely to be punished some. Not to apologize for him, but by way of explaining his meanness somewhat, she told me that his own wife wouldn’t behave him however much he punished her, and it was a source of great embarrassment to him with the rest of the family. The other thing was that his wife was barren, and it was figured to be because John’s seed was weak like his father’s, was the talk of most family members. This was also very embarrassing to him. John had said among them that he needed to make sure all the women minded him strictly, or he was concerned others would get ideas as well, without mentioning his wife. This was his reasoning when the subject of his cruelty was raised. He also made the argument that he was most in charge of keeping order on the farm, and he took these matters very seriously.

When John entered my room, I was already naked on the bed, on my back, with my legs spread. Angrily, he lunged across the room, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled me roughly onto the floor, shouting, “Why aren’t you prepared to service me, cunt!” My hair smarting, I crawled on my knees to him, terrified, unbuttoned his trousers, and took out his member, which was limp. I put it in my mouth and started to suck it up and down.

Pretty soon, it got too big for my mouth. I started to get up to get the bacon grease to service him more with my hands, but he pushed me back down, shouting, “Where do you think you’re going, cunt! Put it back in! Put it all the way down your gullet!” I couldn’t fit it in hardly at all, so I did what I could as well as trying to give him pleasure with my dry hands. He shouted more insults at my birth family and me, “Didn’t your older brothers teach you to service a man properly, you worthless whore? Didn’t your own father? You disgust me!” With that, he grabbed my head, forced my jaw wide open, inserted his dick, and slammed it down my surprised throat.

Immediately, I spewed my dinner all over him and all over the floor. My throat, nose, and mouth burned. “You nicked me and soiled me, cunt!” he shouted and hit me in the side of my head with his open hand harder than I have ever been hit. My head bounced off the bedpost. Now I know what it means to see stars. My right eye, where he had hit me, started to swell shut.

John told me to lick up my own vomit off the floor, and I did so sobbing quietly but without hesitation, fearing otherwise to die by his hand. After a while, he tired of this activity, and he yanked me by the hair back onto the bed. He had got his dick hard, and pushed it roughly into my cunny as soon as he could arrange to. I was on my side and he was straddling my left leg with the right one on his lap. His left hand had a painful hold of my hair and the right one was free to hit with, I suppose. I had my right hand up to shield my face the whole time and was sobbing.

My head, my hair, and especially my eye was throbbing in pain, my throat, lungs, nose, and mouth were burning, and my arms and legs were beat up too. Other than the loathsome sick terror of it all, his member ramming into my cunny was the least of my concerns. It seemed as though the more I cried, the more excited he got, so with great honesty, I began to bawl my eyes out. Sure enough, within a minute or so, I felt him stop and tense inside me, and I felt his emission.

After he had me lick his member clean, he sat back against the headboard and lit up a cigar. I was shivering and sobbing quite naturally, cowering at the far foot of the bed from him and hugging myself tight to keep from running. Soon the room filled with thick smoke, and I started to cough and choke on it, having never been in a room as smoky as this before. “You don’t like my cigar, you bitch?” he said, leaned over, and put the hot tip to the side of my right breast. I’m sure that everyone in the house could clearly hear the scream that came out of me then. Nobody came to check on me.

I must have fainted from the pain or terror then, for when I came to my senses, he had me on my belly and was forcing his member in and out of my bunghole. It felt worse than the day before, but mostly it was the humiliation of having this despicable man invade my person. The physical pain was probably less. Perhaps because I had been senseless when he started, it seemed that my bowels had opened up easily and naturally for his entrance. He took a long time in my bunghole, but at least he wasn’t beating or burning me, so I stayed quiet, tried to stay relaxed, and endured it.

After a long while, he finished. It was dark outside. He had me clean his dick with my tongue again, and the smell and taste of both bacon grease and my stink was strong. My stomach was growling empty by then, so I had nothing left to throw up anyway. After this, he had another smoke. This time I endured the fumes, holding in my coughs tightly like you would do in church. I didn’t want to get burnt again.

He kept me up all night that way, taking me in one or the other hole, having me lick off his dick, and then having a smoke. Thankfully, he did not beat me up any more. In the early hours of the dawn, while I was on my back mostly asleep and he was taking my cunny, he even paid me a compliment. He whispered, “You are the most beautiful girl or woman I have ever fucked.” I might have missed it if it wasn't so unusual for him to speak to me in a quiet tone.

I'm ashamed to admit that I had a climax or two during some of his invasions of my cunny, especially near morning, though I was so frightened I would be punished for any sounds, I tried my best to hide them. No doubt he could tell he was pleasuring me some while he did my cunny, though, to my shame.

At dawn, he left quickly and without a word.

Sunday, September 19, 1880 (later).

When Emma saw me in the morning, she shouted for help and immediately started tending to my wounds. Willard was summoned, and when I saw my husband and he saw me, I couldn’t help myself, I started bawling loud tears of anguish. He held me close, and although he was quiet, I felt wet tears on his face dripping onto mine. After a minute of just holding me, he stood up, and told Emma in a fairly angry voice, “I’ll see to this.” Emma showed him the cigar burn on my breast and he grimaced. He stood up and left the room without another word. Emma tended to me, and Eliza (my third sister wife) and Elizabeth (my fifth sister wife) helped. I got to know the latter two better, though the circumstances were less than happy. I am one of thirteen wives, but I am wife fourteen to honor the sixth one, who died.

I found out just now that my husband whipped John severely and sent him back to his homestead to contemplate his further participation in the farm. “He should have to be in bed about a week,” from the whipping, Emma told me. He then put his second son Richard, his son by Martha, in charge of day-to-day operations of the farm. I expect this is a big and real punishment for John for what he did. I’m not sure what kind of blessing or trouble it portends for me or any of my sister wives. It’s all too much to take in so far. This is a big farm. On my birth farm, my father always ran everything, but of course my older brothers aren’t as old as John or Richard.

Emma, with a smile on her face, then told me I would meet Richard that very evening, since he was next in order to visit me, “pay court” was the way she put it. She was trying to make it sound romantic, or heroic, or something, and in that moment I loved her for it. But regardless, I was suddenly back in the grim reality of my situation. Emma saw my expression, and reassured me the visit would be a pleasant one. Richard was a fine young man, Emma reassured me, and most of the household was sad and terribly embarrassed and angry at what had happened to me, including Richard.

Of course, I would still have to follow the rules, as we all must, but the penalty for mistreating me had been established, and Emma seriously doubted anyone would ever cross that mark again. That said, Emma cautioned me against arrogance in the light of this, else Willard might have to punish me himself. The way she put it, “He may be entirely smitten with you, child, and rightly so in my opinion, but it doesn’t make you entirely immune to the politics of this family. Be humble in your ascent, especially towards your sister wives, I beg you.” I aim to heed her advice. I have no present needs or cares other than to do any godly work I'm assigned, be treated with kindness, and be allowed to read and write in my journals.
« Last Edit: November 07, 2020, 11:15:05 PM by Sweetums »



Offline Sweetums

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Chapter 3: Richard

Monday, 20 September 1880

What an evening I just had!

I dozed and healed up the rest of the day with ointment and a bandage on my wounded breast and a cold wet rag for my eye. I was asleep when dinner on a tray entered the room, and carrying it was Richard. I knew it must be Richard by the age and how he had been described to me. The description had not done him any justice. He was gloriously handsome with a full black beard, doe-like brown eyes, and a smile like sunrise.

As soon as I saw him, I was very apologetic that I had been sleeping and had not prepared for his arrival as he deserves. I was terrified I would offend him and terrified of the punishment he’d be forced to serve me as a result. I was on my guard as I cowered a bit in my bed to await his judgment.

He smiled and immediately disarmed me with his easy manner of speaking. He explained that he was very early, and apologized for surprising me by appearing early, but he had begged to bring me my dinner so that he could sit and talk with me awhile before visiting later on. “I want to tell you one thing about tonight,” he said then. “No rules.” And then he just kept babbling about being tired of giving orders today and that I was too beautiful for orders anyway, or something poetic like that. He was trying to flatter me. I knew I looked like death warmed over with this terrible eye. I started to realize he was nervous, that he was trying to calm himself down, and that he really wanted me to like him for some mystifying reason.

Finally, he remembered to set the dinner tray down in front of me, and I started eating it. It gave me a chance just to watch him, to look at him. Richard was still a young man at only 22, but smart, skilled, and must be even-tempered given his recent promotion to being my husband’s right-hand man. As I ate, he said something like “You shouldn’t work for me, and I shouldn’t work for you. We should work together. That’s what families do.”

I scoffed at this. “What about the other stuff?” We both knew what I was referring to. He insisted they were my husband’s rules, not his. His wife does not participate, and stays on his homestead. They are agreed he will participate if called upon, that he wants to help his father, but he was unwilling to make love to any woman unless she honestly wanted him to breed her. Our conversation continued playfully. I was forward and called him very handsome, and he looked uncomfortable. He doesn’t take compliments very well, I think.

He took away the dinner tray and gave me a chance to dress. Then he was back. He asked me what I wanted to do. Anything I wanted. He reminded me that he runs the whole ranch now, and there was nothing that would please him or my husband more than for me to be greatly pleased.

I asked for a carriage ride around the property. It was a few hours until dark, and he rushed to arrange a carriage for us. Then he whisked me out the front door and into the carriage and drove away with me to take in the view. It was exhilarating!

I was in a saucy mood with Richard. We were engaged in some kind of dance of words that made me want to play with him. I wanted to yank his tail. I wanted to put him on the spot. I wanted to create secrets between us. Soon, an opportunity presented itself.

As we drove and he explained the sights, we passed one of the farm hands at some distance who was working in the fields. We waved and then the farm hand did a surprising thing, or maybe not surprising. He pulled out his member and showed it to us. Richard shouted over to him, “Sorry! She’s taken presently!" Then he drove on.

I insisted that we could not make him a liar. He was momentarily confused, but I cleared it up by insisting that he at least stick a finger in my cunny. We both laughed nervously? Playfully? He asked me if I was serious. I answered that I was in a playful, glorious mood, and that I furthermore insisted he stick a finger in my cunny this instant!

He playfully (since this was my requested mood) reached his hand under my skirt, gave me a tickle here and there, gave me a little poke here and there, and eventually as we laughed together slid his pointer finger partway in. Such an action brings some necessary seriousness to a situation, I immediately discovered. As he drove on with one hand, I held onto his other arm with both of mine and somehow tried to continue our playful conversation.

He suddenly called me delicate and ravishing and all these flowery words, and we got into a playful argument about how ravishing my black eye looked. I teased him that he was falling in loooooove with me, and he answered, “Fell.” Tears came to my eyes. It seemed my lot in life to be dashed between the gates of heaven and the fires of hell until I was dashed and burnt to pieces.

He stopped the cart to wipe my tears with his driving hand. His finger moved in me a little, just to get my attention, and he asked, “why so serious?”

“Fell,” I answered shyly. Then we kissed, and he gently removed his hand from my undergarments, because our play had turned too serious for that, or at least into more serious play. Soon he said he wanted to show me something, and he drove on.

It was dusk when we arrived at his homestead. He introduced me to the friendly dogs in the yard, and then up the steps where his wife Deirdre greeted us, surprised, at the door. She had a baby bump of maybe three or four months. There was a young lady of probably six years in the background trying to corral a maniacal urchin of perhaps three.

Deirdre said, “I’ve been waiting for this.” I didn’t know what she meant at the time. I happily chased the kids around and got to know them. Marta was the daughter’s name. Benjamin, or just Benny, was the urchin. It was so joyous in this house, with the children. I immediately became “auntie Lia” because the young ones couldn’t say Athalia. I hadn’t seen normal people since the wedding. I started to feel normal again!

We all had supper together, even Benny, who paused to eat good food. Then it was Deirdre and I putting the kids to bed, me reading to Marta from her favorite storybook, and tucking them in.

Then it was just Deirdre, Richard, and me around the table. Richard confided that he got sweet on me the moment he first saw me, and now that he actually met me, it was stronger. He wanted for the two women he was sweet on to know each other, so he brought me here. I felt honored and dizzy with his compliments, and said as much.

Then Deirdre had to pipe in and say more nice things, like she understood what her husband saw in me, and she felt like a sister wife with me, if that was okay with me. It was! I wanted to visit their normal, joyful household whenever possible. It would be so joyful to have a normal quiet place in my life, well, except for the little ones, who were a joy.

We were all beaming with each other, making plans to visit often, when Deirdre gets down a bottle and three cups and pours us all a little. I had never tasted it, but heard of it, and asked was it safe? In small doses, they assured me. I sipped it like they did, and it tasted just completely vile. Not dirty, because I know it’s used to clean with, just bad. I asked how could people like this. Deirdre says it makes people less nervous. I asked what she was nervous about, and she said she was afraid I wouldn’t want to share their bed with them that night.

I wanted to be a proper lady, but also the idea sounded so very wonderful to me, like a dream coming true. So I didn’t know what to say. I was shy, especially when I saw Richard looking at me expectantly. I had to remind myself that Willard wanted me to do it. He made a rule for me to do it. It wasn’t my upbringing, but it was my new life, so why wouldn’t I find joy in it, and why would it be wrong to find joy in it?

I didn’t want to say anything. Words are just too complicated sometimes! So I drank the rest of the drink, and they both laughed at the “Blegh!” I made after I did. Then I got up from the table, ran to their bedroom, climbed up on their bed, and just laid down there, in all my clothes, on my tummy, right in the middle of it. Luckily, it was a big, good, sturdy bed. I smiled a little at this.

They came in after me and shut the door. Richard called me a “beautiful imp.” We all laughed nervously. They started to undress for bed, real normally, like a husband and wife do. Everything went into its place as they took it off, and such. It was comforting to watch them in their routine. Then they had a discussion, should we just do it on top? Or take the top off and do it on the sheets? I noticed that Diredre had seen to it earlier that the fire in here was stoked so that the bedroom was pretty warm. It was then decided by Deirdre that we would do it on the sheets because they were easier to clean. Still hiding my face in their bed, I purred a little, knowing this probably meant both Deirdre and I were going to get it in the cunny.

They lifted up the comforter with me on it, and I squealed a little. They needed me to climb off it of course, so I did, and finally looked at their naked bodies and saw and announced that Richard was already “hard as algebra.” More laughter from all of us,  and more of them both saying how beautiful I was as Deirdre set the comforter outside of harm’s way. Deirdre, I’d seen naked girls before, plenty, but she had a glow from carrying the child in her, and also a glow because she was here with her husband to be in a love bed with me. I surely wanted to see her climax, and it was more than idle curiosity.

It was past time for me to undress, and I did in a flash, hanging my dress and bloomers on the bedpost. There were startles from Deirdre from the bandage on my breast. Richard knew about it already, but also drew in his breath a little seeing it. I reassured them, saying it didn’t hurt at all anymore except if you poked at it, and would heal just fine according to Emma. Deirdre said it wasn’t the wound so much that spooked her but the evil that did it. Things got somber all of a sudden. I didn’t know what to do. Even Richard’s member started to droop sadly, and when I saw this, I couldn’t help but blurt out to it, “No, don’t go!”

This caused a laugh from them and Deirdre teasing me and taunting Richard, “she wants it bad!” and Richard saying, “well I want her!” and me imitating Emma, saying the rules say I must accommodate him immediately. We laughed. I felt so free that it was a joke in this room. Richard went to playfully grab me, and I shied away. I guess last night had not entirely left me. He approached me more gently and lifted me in his arms, lifted me to him and hugged me. Then he set me gently on the edge of the bed, knelt between my legs, and started kissing me down there like Willard had.

Richard’s tongue was good, really good. Within a few moments I was half-unconscious with the joy of it. Deirdre climbed onto the bed from the other side, watching my face, and telling her husband how beautiful I looked with passion written on it. She kept watching me and her husband go at it, and she started touching her cunny, putting a finger in to wet it then rubbing her opening. That’s when my first of many climaxes happened, and it felt better than ever through my whole body! I must have shouted like I had been torn in half!

It woke the children. Deirdre jumped off the bed, threw on her shift, and went to reassure them. I felt awful and went to do the same. They were both fine when they saw that auntie Lia was not dead, and we told them I had just had a fright, like I gave them, and it was over. Little Marta reassured me that everything was okay. It was so sweet. It was very late for them, so they fell back asleep almost as soon as the commotion was over. Deirdre and I returned to the bedroom. Straight away after getting naked again and climbing on the bed, I grabbed a pillow for the next time I felt a noise coming on.

Richard’s member was droopy from waiting so long, understandably. I’m learning that those gentlemen don’t like to wait! Deirdre joined me on the bed and stood up on her knees facing Richard. She started rubbing herself down there again, and leaned back a little to give Richard a better view. This was like the butt wiggling I did for Willard, I figured. She asked me to join her, and I did. Soon we were both touching our cunnys for him. Mine was still wet and sensitive from Richard’s licking. I had never touched myself like this before, and it started feeling good. Richard stroked his member watching us, and in only a few moments it was powerful and hard looking again.

I wanted them both to call me an eager slut like Willard had, so I started begging Richard to shoot a baby into me, but that’s as far as I got with the begging. He was gently setting me down on the bed and had his member right up against me at my opening before I could get any more encouragement out, and then he slowly and gently filled my cunny right up to about bursting. I bit the pillow immediately since I felt another one coming on, but I didn’t cover my face with it. I wanted to see the pleasure in his face and the muscles rippling in his chest. He is a lovely handsome man!

He started moving in me, and almost right away I put a nice shout into the pillow. Right after I felt my heart about to burst from my chest with the emotion of being taken by him, all the feelings I had stoppered inside me rushed out in big gushing sobs. When he saw all the tears, Richard jumped back from me, despite my reassurances. He was urgent by then, so he immediately put it into Deirdre and shot it into her cunny before I even got a chance to pull myself together and explain.

Deirdre and Richard rested there together with his member still up inside her, so beautiful, with angelic looks on their faces. I could see that he was still inside her. I watched them in their aftermath with wonder, having never seen a man and a woman joined before. It sent tingles all through me. I was transfixed.

Pretty soon they emerged from their reverie and Deirdre asked me about the tears. I explained they were good tears, where it was like Richard’s member in me was like to pushing out all the sadness and fright from before. We didn’t have to discuss what I meant by “before.” The bandage and black eye were a constant reminder to all of us. Richard breathed a big sigh of relief that he had not afflicted me, because in his excitement and with my provocative begging he forgot I was barely made a woman, and that the hurt from that was probably still hard upon me.

About my cunny, I told them no, it feels wonderful. I added that my backside was also feeling pretty good if he wanted it, and it was starting to be fully joyful for me to have it up there, but that I would really prefer to be bred as much as possible for the time being, both because I want a baby and because it seems I have more climaxes in my cunny. Deirdre was a little surprised by my explanation and asked me if I really got climaxes from my back hole. I said yes indeed, fewer, but great big ones. I guess this is unusual from their reaction.

After that, we sat on the bed and prayed together. I’ve never prayed naked before like that, and certainly not all naked with a married couple! But, I suppose we are all naked in the eyes of God anyway. Deirdre felt it needful to pray, and I thought it was a wonderful idea. We prayed that my hurt be lifted from me and replaced with only joy. After I felt loved by God, Richard, and Deirdre all.

I was excited to try to service Richard a little, and also wanted Deirdre to teach me how to service a man properly. She told me there was no proper way to do it, and as far as she knew, every girl had her own technique, but she would try to be helpful. Then we all laughed, because by the time we got done planning about how we were going to service him, Richard’s member was happy as ever and pointing back at us!

At the sight of this, I grabbed my pillow, held it in my teeth actually, and eagerly lay down and spread again. Richard fumbled for a moment but was soon pushing in and opening my cunny with his member once more. It felt so good! I was glad I was already biting the pillow.

Deirdre came up close to touch my breast (the unhurt one) and was touching herself, too. It seemed like she had kept all Richard’s seed up in her, which I did not know how to do with a man. I resolved to ask her about it later, but here’s the answer. It seems that everything doesn’t splash out of a woman or even come out every time. It depends, she said.

Soon I had my first climax, then opened up fully to Richard and Deirdre too, I suppose, and I started sobbing again. I pushed the pillow into my mouth, and the tears and yesterday’s hurt just kept spilling out of me. This time, gloriously, Richard continued to pound my hurt right out of me and inject me with more and more joy. He started holding me down because I got wiggly near the end. Even though I was wailing into the pillow, my body was jumping with pleasure at his touch. After a long time of this good work, I heard Deirdre say, “I’m close.”

Then I felt Richard tense hard inside me and stifle his breath. A moment later I could feel the warm wetness he had squirted into me deep in my belly. My tears paused with the thrill of it, and I instead grunted and shook with the wonderful fullness and warmth of it. Then Deirdre started puffing out deep breaths. I opened my eyes to see her climaxing face close to my own.

She was so beautiful! I pulled her face down and kissed her mouth with my whole mouth. Her tongue was stiff as she continued to climax, then calmed after, and she kissed me back with her tongue some. To be honest, I liked kissing her very much. It was a wonder to me that she had made herself climax with her own hand. I’m resolved to try that myself soon!

We all felt it was time to pray again. We thanked God for the closeness and comfort we all were feeling. I confessed I was afraid of my attraction to Deirdre, and whether it was proper. Richard asked me if I wanted it, and I said yes. He said God already knew that I should get anything I wished that night, and so it’s proper. In fact, he ordered me to have any way I wanted with Deirdre, and Deirdre the same with me, and by my husband’s rules, I can’t disobey this. If it was sin, it was only his.

I prayed to have my bunghole erased of him like Richard already did my cunny. I didn’t need to say who “he” was. I also prayed I would never choke on cigar smoke again. Richard and Dierdre understood, and they asked again if I really liked it so much back there. I said I really think so from Willard, but last night was so bad on me that I wasn’t sure anymore. Last night it had just felt dead and bad inside, and I was so afraid and sad the whole time. Thinking about it again, nestled in Richard and Deirdre’s arms, I started to cry about that night again.

Richard put calming touches and hugs on me like you would soothe a child. Dierdre said that maybe we could try to use the runnings from my cunny, or she had bacon grease, if I really wanted to have Richard in my bunghole. I said to use the bacon grease, because that’s what I did before, and asked about the syringe and hot water, but Deirdre didn’t have one.

Deirdre got the bacon grease, and I showed her to spread it all around and inside with her fingers as well. Having Deirdre do it made me wanting. It must have affected Richard, too, because he got mightily hard watching us do it. We teased him for being so urgent for any old hole, even the wrong one, but he argued that any man alive would harden watching this.

Richard asked how I wanted it, and I laid down flat on my tummy and told him do it nice and rough in me this way, but go slow at first. He went in very slow, as Deirdre watched and started to rub herself again. It hurt a little, but mostly good, because of the love I needed inside there. I kept telling him he could do it rougher, which he got to a good pace and it felt just wonderful. I didn’t cry this time, but instead felt a big one building in me.

Richard didn’t last long. I felt him tense and squirt, and I was ready to go too. I had forgotten the pillow, so I slapped both hands over my mouth and held my breath really hard while my very deep, very long climax held me and shook me. Deirdre said afterwards that I turned blue. They both said how beautiful it was to see me climax. Deirdre asked if it had been as good as it looked, and I replied maybe the best ever.

After more prayers of gratitude for the joy of my big climax, Richard said he could probably go again. He had washed himself in the basin, and Deirdre had it in her mouth and was finally showing me some tricks. Richard got hard easy, so wonderful, and asked what next, and I said more bottom!

This time I was partly laying and chomping on the pillow as he pounded and pounded and pounded me. Partway through, right after I’d had a really good sweaty groaning climax into the pillow, Deirdre sidled her cunny up to my face and asked if I wanted it. I must have answered pretty desperate, because she put it up to me, and I started kissing and licking furiously but without purpose. It tasted good. She asked me to lick the button at the top and suck the hood and skin all around it. After a bit of me doing this she climaxed, and I straightaway had another nice long groaning one muffled by her cunny.

We lay back and rested awhile after that, though Richard hadn’t had his climax. After me having such pleasure, Deirdre confessed she was wanting hard to try it again. I got up and got the bacon grease and started to work the grease around and in Deirdre’s bunghole while Richard watched us and rubbed his member.

Richard took her on her hands and knees. He entered very slowly, but she confessed a lot of pain. I asked her to push back with her guts and relax, which I had learned. We looked in each other’s eyes as Richard did it to her. I asked her to pray God to open her and send her joy. We prayed like that all the while Richard moved slowly but firmly in her backside. Afterwards, she said it was feeling better and more comfortable, a blessing.

She asked me to put my cunny up to her, and I did so gladly. Pretty soon she had me screaming into my pillow, and I had to back away. That’s when Richard shot in her with a low groan. Afterwards, he said it was the best for him in a long time. Deirdre said she liked to please him so much, and that my suggestions had made it quite bearable this way.

After this, Richard was half asleep, as was I, and Deirdre was not much more awake. We all prayed sleepily our gratitude one final time. Dierdre got the comforter and put it over us, turned down the lamps, then curled up together with us. I was asleep after that.

I was rocked awake by Richard and Deirdre going at it. It was near dawn, and I could see Deirdre was on her side facing me, watching me wake. Richard was above her, plowing with increasing excitement between her legs. I sidled up to them, nestling Richard’s leg and leaning in to kiss Deirdre good morning, and then more times. She asked me to suckle her, and I did, and she started groaning with both Richard and me ministering to her.

Deirdre suddenly stopped Richard and asked him to shoot it in me, who needs the seed. I guess she knew he was close from experience with him. He checked my hole with his fingers and then pushed right in. So delicious right while waking up! He shot in me almost straightaway, before I could get very started on a climax, but it felt wonderful all the same. He mentioned afterwards that I seemed to be always ready there. I suppose it’s unusual. I asked them to please not stop rubbing and kissing it anyway!

We all got up and dressed, and Richard and I took our leave to return to the main house. Deirdre gave us some bread and fruit to eat on the way back.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:34:10 AM by Sweetums »



Offline horny guy

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Reply #3 on: April 28, 2020, 02:35:37 PM
awesome so far. i assume these were just the first 3 and many to cum.



Offline Sweetums

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You are correct, fine sir! I have eight more chapters planned after this, and the plot is still showing no signs of wrapping up.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:34:38 AM by Sweetums »



Offline ToeinH2O

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Reply #5 on: April 28, 2020, 08:59:15 PM
I enjoyed Chapter 1.  I like rural polygamy tales.  I even wrote one myself.



Offline Sweetums

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I enjoyed Chapter 1.  I like rural polygamy tales.  I even wrote one myself.

I just read it and left a review. Woot! Hope you like the rest of the chapters.

Update, I have an ending...
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:35:03 AM by Sweetums »



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Chapter 4: William

Tuesday, 21 September 1880.

Life is not all bad with so many men in it. Maybe I am naturally a wanton on the steep and slippery to hell, but even if I am, I intend to honestly and accurately document my descent thereto as any educated person should want to.

After I got back to the main house with Richard, my husband Willard came to see how I was doing. I told him I had a magical evening the previous night with Richard, how I met his darling wife and their two wonderful children, and how we had prayed hard and late into the night and had been answered to remove the hurt from me that had happened.

He looked so happy at hearing of my enchanted evening, and he talked about how proud he was of both Richard and me, and how Richard was showing his great value to the farm at every turn. Then he asked, as if it was nothing, whether Richard had been productive in me, which I took rightly to mean, had he put his seed up my cunny.

I cringed, because my conversation with Willard had been going so good and proper, and now he was asking this thing that should not really be discussed. I answered real formal, “Yes, sir,” because he shouldn’t have asked.

He asked me what was wrong, had Richard hurt me. I said no sir. I told him that I thought such a question was proper for livestock, but not for a man’s wife, that I felt humiliated by it. He told me he didn’t mean it that way. He told me back, and called me child, that he used to think the same, then found out how much the lives of everybody and everything we loved depended on the babies out of me and my sister wives. Thus we needed to be open and honest as husband and wife about all that transpired between my legs.

He asked did I have pleasure of him. Again, cringing at the wrongness of him asking, I answered yes, sir, I had. He asked how much pleasure, and I answered that it was hard to measure such a thing. He asked if Richard had made me scream like on my wedding night, and I answered yes sir. He asked me more than once, and I said yes sir. Then he launched into his praising of Richard’s contributions to the farm and his expert handling of me, which made me again feel like some heifer.

He asked whether Richard had the pleasure of my bunghole as well, and I stopped him and argued that this was not a subject directly pertinent to my having babies, and should remain private. He said he was tired of my back talk and having to explain things to me more than once, and that I should start answering him swift and dutiful before he entirely lost his patience with me. I replied yes sir, he had my bunghole.

The questions continued. Yes sir, Richard gave me many climaxes in my bunghole. Yes sir, I made progress on learning service. No sir, I can’t take a member in my gullet yet. No sir, he didn’t make his seed in my mouth. No sir, I haven’t tasted it yet.

Then came questions about my terrifying night with John, and my heart sank further. Yes sir, John made seed in my cunny. When he asked had I climaxed from it, I burst into tears. He said he would take that as a yes. I felt so humiliated and violated. He continued his humiliation of me. I answered through my tears, yes sir, John had me in the bunghole. No sir, I didn’t climax from it. No sir, John didn’t teach me service, he just made me upchuck then knocked me senseless for it. His questions answered, he left me to my tears of shame. I had wanted to ask him about the dogs, but by then I was not so interested in talking to him at all.

Emma visited me and told me William, who was “paying court” this evening, was another good one. John’s younger brother, but as happy and easygoing as John was twisted and rigid. She said William, as the third son, was Richard’s right hand man, because she knew I was already sweet on Richard. They were almost the same age, as William was 21.

I asked Emma about the dogs. She said they were just for punishment, and I shouldn’t worry my head about them. She said I should be more concerned about the farm hands that I would go to soon for the first time, of which there were presently six. She said she knew I could endure it without much torment, and perhaps even eventually with some satisfaction, as she had done for many years, once she had become accustomed. I asked whether I should prepare at all for William’s arrival. Emma said just wear a pretty dress.

A while after dinner, William arrived. At first he took me aback because of how much he resembled John, but I shook it off as soon as William showed his easygoing nature and asked how he could please me that evening. As long as he was offering, I asked for another carriage ride. “Then you shall have it!” he declared, and raced off to arrange one.

We went off in a different direction than the way Richard had taken me. William showed me a whole other part of our land, whole valleys of it. He mentioned that he was requested not to keep me out late tonight or overnight, so maybe I could meet his wife and children some other time, and he would love to introduce me. I asked if Richard had gotten in trouble for that, and he said no, Willard appeared very pleased with Richard’s conduct, luckily. Richard was right to remove me so that the room could be properly cleaned and the bad memories be properly prayed away. I adamantly agreed.

As this delightful man continued to show me around the property, I got all relaxed and playful again, as is my disposition. We came upon a beautiful patch of wildflowers, and at my request, we stopped to pick some. He picked one or two as well and put them in my hair. Then he kissed me in the flower field, which I didn’t consider too forward. It felt right.

I asked him what his intentions were, because I didn’t just want to be some game of graces he could win to get approval from his father. He could tell I was still upset by my earlier conversation with Willard. His philosophy was much as Richard’s, as I expected. The rule was ungodly, and although he had agreed to participate given the farm’s need, he would only participate if first the girl, then almighty God, then his heart agreed it was proper and kind. I kissed him again, and tweaked his nipples this time, not painfully. He tickled me and we fell into the wildflower patch together and kissed some more. I already knew by then I would have William that evening, and happily so.

I was merely facing facts. A long line, or circle I suppose, of men would be squirting their seed up in my cunny no matter what my inclination towards them. Why would I be so stupid as to close my legs to the good ones who thought my permission worth something while having my legs forced open by all the others?

I knew what nature of child I wanted to bear, so both my course of action and my conscience were clear in the matter. I would do all that was reasonably ethical to have the good ones comprehensively baste my cunny, and I would avoid the bad ones or tempt them away with my other holes whenever possible. I no longer knew which camp I would place my actual husband into anymore. I would have to think on it.

As we drove on, I felt William’s member through his pants. It was pretty hard even though trapped, and seemed like a pretty good one. I made to release it from its captivity, but he batted my hand away playfully, saying there was plenty of time for that later, and I should instead enjoy the beautiful scene laid out before us. I teased would he enjoy my beautiful scene later when I laid it out before him? We were back and forth like that with innuendo, tickling, and giggling as we drove along.

We came to a field in the far reaches of the property, and in it stood a farm hand. As yesterday, straight as he saw a girl was in the carriage, he pulled out his dick and stood facing us. William said he could beg me off, but I may want to consider ingratiating myself to this hand.

William explained himself. He had heard many tales from the wives about the nature of the regular tribulation to be suffered in the field house. The worst circumstance was that of a near-virgin wife being thrown into that pit of vipers with no ally. She would always come out horribly ruined, the more innocent, the more ruined, and take many days or even weeks to recover. The wives soon learned the value of favoring certain hands who would in turn prevent violence and degradation on their near helpless persons throughout the process.

William knew this hand, and knew him to be smart, kind, and most importantly influential with his coworkers. He was not the foreman, who was in John’s pocket, but he was the next best thing. This was, in fact, why he had brought me here to this field. Richard would have done it yesterday, but that I needed to be cared for sweetly then, not put up to an uncomfortable decision like this one.

I asked if he had some bacon grease handy, and he said no, only a jar of tallow in the back. Well, it was something, I replied. I asked William what the hand was probably expecting from this encounter. He answered maybe a little service back and forth until you are both ready, and then a quick one in the cunny laying in the furrow. The ancient Greeks were supposed to have done the same, to get a good harvest. I thanked him for the classical lesson and went to speak with the farm hand.

The hand’s name was Abe, and he seemed affable, though dirty and stinky from working all day in the field. I told him I knew I could beg off, since I was already promised to William, but I heard he might be willing to do what he could to prevent the worst to me when it came my time to accommodate the field house. He said he would do that for free, since I was such a beautiful and delicate creature, and he couldn’t in good conscience let any preventable ill befall me in any case. Even so, I was so beautiful; I made him so hard, as I could see, so he was hoping as any man would under the circumstances for a poke at me.

This was a worthy man. I could see Abe was plenty hard and I already knew I was plenty wet, so I stepped out of my bloomers, laid down in the furrow, pulled up my dress, spread my legs, and told him, “Okay, then, make your work in me.” Abe smiled broadly and knelt down between my legs as if to praise God for the opportunity, and undid his britches the rest of the way.

William walked up and paused a distance away as Abe gently but excitedly fell upon me and began to fit his member into my cunny. I was already worked up a bit from all William’s teases and tickles. Being a farm girl, this exact experience had been the frequent subject of my prepubescent fantasies of how I would be made a woman and get with child, so as soon as he had stretched his member up into me entirely with a low satisfied grunt, I had a loud moaning climax, and my legs gripped his big strong hips reflexively to me.

Abe started to move in me powerfully and deeply, and then went faster and faster as his excitement grew. He was pounding me quite more deep and powerful than I’d ever experienced. The hard ground beneath me helped the terrible force of it I think. I climaxed with a loud wail, so loud it gave Abe a pause, and then he recovered when he saw I had not died, only had been pleasured. He redoubled his efforts, and I climaxed again almost immediately with a whimper and a moan. I glanced over at William and saw he was staring at us, flushed with excitement, quivering with excitement.

Abe then pinned me to the earth with a terrible yell and with his motion pushed so hard as like to plant me there, and his seed shot into my insides. I could feel it distinctly, a squirt, a pause, and a squirt, and the heat of it. My insides like to melted as I strained immobile in climax from the feel of it. I confess I have a terrible lust for the feel of a man’s dollops meeting my insides; how I love it so; I practically always climax at the feel of it. This one was a special one of those.

Abe climbed off me, and I lay there insensible, and as soon as Abe climbed off, William appeared and climbed on, pleading he could wait no further, slid it in me forcefully, and began splashing Abe’s and my emissions everywhere down there with great purpose. I said, “Okay, go ahead,” after he was already working in me. It felt right to say the words. In retrospect, I suppose I said it because he was the kind of man who cared to know for sure, and he knew I was the kind of woman for whom it mattered.

I confess I was so stirred up by Abe’s all too fleeting dance in my insides that I wanted more. I had only ever considered more than one man with dread -- thinking of the field house. Now I came with a wet howl for William, wrapping my legs around him, at the realization that being had by all the stallions in the pasture roused my animal nature.

William strained, and I felt another splash deep in me, and whimpered. His face was radiant in his satisfaction. I was almost there from it, but sometimes a woman has to be content, and I looked forward with contentment that I would have him more later, that this was only a little taste of what our night would be.

William rolled off me, and as he got up, I saw that behind him Abe was up and hard again, stroking his member, having watched me rut and finish with William. He knelt between my legs again as William was still getting up. Abe was in me in two strokes, bam, BAM, and a grunt of satisfaction from him and a whimper from me. As Abe started up his forceful pounding in me again, I didn’t want William to object, so I said “Yes!” though my clenched teeth. I barely got it out before my awaiting climax hit me. I keened like a bitch in heat and my legs kicked out straight, and I saw Abe’s dirty chest and neck heaving over me as it went on and on, my legs straining out, that’s how I remember it.

Abe, excited by my response I think, picked up his pace from a trot to a gallop. My climaxes were frequent as he enjoyed my cunny thoroughly, grunting with special satisfaction every while when a yell, screech, or howl of a climax exploded out of me. We continued like that forever it seemed, him speeding up and going harder when I thought he could do no more, me climaxing loudly and wetly for him. I felt the whole of Earth at my back as he pounded me. He eclipsed the sun as he pounded me. I saw clouds drift above him as he pounded me. My guts constantly writhed in pleasure as he pounded me.

Finally, Abe was done again as he pinned me down and sowed me a second time, his member throbbing deep in me and his batch spreading out in me. My cunny was almost tired of pleasure by then. I had never had it so long before, I mean continuous three times. It was overwhelming. After enjoying his reverie, Abe got up, helped me to my feet, and did his best to start arranging me.

William, who I could see now was hard again in his pants, but not bare and wanting to go again, by that gesture sent an important suggestion to me that we should be leaving. He handed me his handkerchief to stem the flood of seed from my womb and joined Abe in trying to brush the dirt off my back and everywhere. I looked around for my bloomers and spotted them smashed into the dirt one row over with no idea how they had gotten over there. Abe fetched them for me, and I snapped the dirt and dust off them as best I could and then donned them, trapping William’s soiled hanky at my still flowing entrance.

I smiled and we said our goodbyes to Abe, and gave him a little hug. He really was putrid, which I hadn’t noticed during, maybe because of the wind, or maybe it just says what a really good pounding does to make everything seem wonderful. Then William and I walked over, hopped up in the carriage, and were on our way again in a moment. He explained he had seen another hand, still distant, approaching us from the horizon, probably drawn to us by my many loud and provocative noises during our time with Abe.

I thanked him, and he grimaced and replied that in a righteous world, I shouldn’t be thanking him, I should be spitting on him. I replied there was no such thing as a righteous world; there never was, as the Bible tells us true, and there never would be, at least not until our Lord and Savior returns to set things right. “I think I have time in my day for him to visit Tuesday next,” William said, and I like to bust my gut at that. William surely knows how to lighten a somber mood!

After that, we were back to laughing, tickling, teasing, and joking again, the world’s ills mostly forgotten. I could see we were heading back to the main house, and soon, I saw it in the distance. We made up a story that I was all covered with dirt and dust (and William dirtied a little as well) because I had laughed so hard at one point that I had tumbled out of the carriage and partway down an embankment.

Luckily (in our made up story) the carriage was stopped at the time, and I was miraculously unhurt. Such an incident is not entirely improbable. The perfect lie, in my mind, is one that is just barely normal enough to be credible. Most people’s lies are easy to spot because they’re just too boring to be true. Like in this instance, if we said, “Oh we just lay down in a field for a time and got dirty,” it would be immediately misbelieved, because people would ask why did you lay down in bare dirt and mud where there was grass all around, or, did you stand on your head in the field? The truth is, most people don’t think about doing a good lie at all.

We arrived back slightly before sunset, and Emma came out of doors immediately and started clucking at my appearance. I was rushed off to a bath and a complete change of clothes as William was left to explain our hopefully just-credible-enough-to-be-believed fib. When Emma was alone with me fussing with my hair, she said she knew what must have happened, and I shouldn’t think she was born yesterday, and had I been successful. I just answered yes ma’am, and she smiled at that.

Restored to decent appearance, William and I had supper together in my room and talked and laughed more awhile. I read him some passages from one of my childhood journals, and he chuckled or looked somber as the passage provoked. I wanted to read him everything. He marveled and chortled at some of my turns of phrase specifically, and I felt it was honest, since he knew he was close in my heart already. I suppose he wouldn’t have wanted to hurt my feelings by saying it was tiresome, but I judge him honest; if he felt that it was, I expect he would have merely held his tongue.

We undressed as a normal couple does. I got on my knees both times and asked him to teach me service, and he did somewhat, though I found that with this he became urgent so quickly that I never got much chance to get better at it. Our relations in the bed were a contrast to the hot sunny rutting in the field earlier. It was like a cool storm that washed over me and kissed me delicately all over.

I cried out for him as much as I generally do, but more important, I felt the closeness and the joy with him, and I prayed and thanked God for it between. He did not seem interested in my bottom, and I felt no want to dissuade him from leaving as many babies in my cunny as he could manage, so we stayed together on the same track very agreeably without a thought. I only remark on it now.

We slept, and at some point during the night he roused me and enjoyed me, and I enjoyed him back as he enjoyed me, and had a nice one when he climaxed. We slept on.

Near dawn, he roused me and basted me again. I cried out fine, because my love of him and what he did in me was finer than ever. Then, with a kiss and a final tickle, he left me to go work.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:35:38 AM by Sweetums »



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Chapter 5: Charles

Wednesday, 22 September 1880.

Last night I was a temptress who smoked, drank, and serviced the dick of a man I never met before with complete abandon, at my new lover’s direction, and liked it, and that was only the beginning of the evening. I’m glad my birth family doesn’t know me any more. It would ruin them.

Emma excitedly told me Charles was visiting me next. I asked why the excitement, and she told me she had raised Charles, even named him, after Phebe, our sixth wife, had died bearing him. Emma called him son, and he called her mama, and that was that. So of course, according to Emma, he was the best of them. I took it with a grain of salt, of course, but it was sweet to see how proud she was of him.

Emma primped me before Charles’s arrival, wanting everything to go perfectly. She said my black eye was looking a lot better, shrunk to only a dark part below. I could see in the mirror, though, that the bump on my head where it had hit the bedpost was turning more colors than ever, but thankfully my hair mostly hid it. I asked her if she was going to prepare my bunghole, and she asked if I wanted it there she would do it. I told her if he was as nice as she said, no, I wanted it all in my cunny. She smiled at that.

I must say that when Charles first came to my door and I saw him, I was struck a bit. Emma had not oversold his beauty and grace. At eighteen years he was pale-haired, tall, and lean, with a passionate face, full lips, and a cute wisp of a beard. His mother who birthed him was said to be a stunner, and I would say she passed that on to her only offspring. I asked him for a carriage ride, but he said the household (meaning Willard I knew) wouldn’t let him, given I was out all night the first time and “lost into a ditch” the second time. He was ordered to visit me in the room only with the window shut, so I wouldn’t fall out. Fair enough, I said, and thought to myself, at least my lie took.

I meant to test Charles. Okay, maybe I meant to tease him more than test him. Before our supper had even arrived, I asked him if he wanted me, and he said, of course. Then I stood up and took down my bloomers. I climbed up on the table and sat down where his supper plate would be. I pulled up my dress and spread my legs. I followed his gaze and looked down between my legs and saw that my nether lips, though a little dewy with moisture as always, were puckered together. I pulled them apart and stroked them down on either side of my hole so they would stick there. I had to stroke my moisture on them down and apart a little bit to get them to stick. Now I was all open for his viewing enjoyment. It was getting me worked up to do this to him. I felt a little drop of moisture shake loose, escape my cunny, and slowly roll down towards my bunghole. I looked up at him and saw he was paying good attention.

I was about to begin my interrogation when there was a knock on the door that meant supper had arrived. I clapped my legs shut and scampered off the table while he stood to go answer the door. He couldn’t, though, because his dick was making a terrible tent in his pants! So he sat back down and I straightened my dress and answered the door.

Once Emma had set the supper and arranged it all romantic, she started rubbing on Charles’s shoulders and neck for a bit. She had noticed his agitated state and thought it was nerves. Right away Charles asked her please mama leave us. She did.

Once the door was shut, I set aside Charles’s supper plate, moved his knife and fork farther apart, and climbed back into my former position between them. His eyes were again helplessly drawn to my nether lips as I exposed them; they needed some more coaxing from my fingers to stick apart again.

Then I said to Charles, before anything else could interrupt, that my choice and my will is he can look but not touch me, but the rule still made me his meat whenever he wanted, to put his seed in me or on me wherever and whenever he wanted, to pleasure him all day and all night for the rest of my life as much as he wanted, even right this very moment if he wanted, and how did he feel about that? I spit on my fingers a little and slicked my nether lips apart for him again for emphasis.

Charles swallowed and hemmed for a moment, then mustered a reasonably firm voice, and said that as God was his witness, no matter how provoked, he would never force a woman, unless she wanted him to force her of course, and is that what I was after mayhaps? The twirling that happens in men’s brains is so cute.

I was sorely tempted to offer Charles the grand prize that instant, but was resolved to test him further, so I said firmly no to him again. I could feel my cunny was getting runny with juice for him. I put my feet on the arms of his chair, lifted my bottom towards him, and edged my nethers close to his face, as another drop got shaken loose and spilled out, and asked him, could he smell it now? He answered all formal, yes ma’am. Did he want to have a taste of it? He said yes, ma’am. On this he whimpered it out.

I asked him, what would it hurt to just take a little taste, even though I said no? Charles’s eyes crossed and then he collected himself and asked me whether I was asking him to do it, and I said again firmly I said no don’t touch me clearly. I continued that his father and John and the other boys also say I’m his to do as he pleases with. Heck, even Richard and William wouldn’t blame him for a weak moment, considering how I was provoking him just now. I asked him again whether it would be so wrong for him to just reach his tongue out the littlest bit and touch it on there?

Charles swallowed hard, I could see his apple bob, and he answered in a stronger voice than ever that I must be a demoness from hell possessed me to tempt his immortal soul, and he would not falter, and that at any rate it was too late. It was clear to me then that I could not break his resolve, so I said, okay, you win. You can touch me. He then asked me, his whole body tense like on the starting line of a race, to please be completely clear whether I ask for it. The tip of his tongue was waiting, just beyond his lips, for my answer. I said yes, I ask for it.

Charles mouth and tongue instantly splashed forward into my open cunny, and I let out a big squeal, because it tickled like heck at first, it was so enthusiastic. Then he grabbed my bottom cheeks tightly with each hand, squeezed them strong, and began licking, kissing, smacking and sucking on my button and all around. He lapped up all my juices, even those that strayed down towards my bunghole. As my hips began to rock with pleasure, his mouth stayed locked sucking on my button, and I climaxed for him with an unabridged howl. Later on Emma confided that one of the other wives had joked to them when they all overheard it that at least it appeared that the master was having his supper, and they all giggled. They had the right of it!

Charles stood up and fetched me off the table strongly then, because I was poised to knock everything off it. I was senseless and asked him what? He explained, and added he didn’t know how he would explain to the household getting her all covered with food all crashing around after her last episode. We laughed together. Then we sat down together and ate our supper like normal, at least after he got his napkin and wiped all my juice off his chin and face.

Over supper, Charles told me he had been charged by Richard to get me as prepared as possible to take the field hands in my mouth, because they would demand it, and if I couldn’t supply it, they would “strap me to the board.” I do not want to find out what being strapped to the board is, so I replied that yes, I was very much interested in this teaching. His demeanor changed, and he mentioned that he supposed he was the most qualified to teach me.

I asked him, and Charles said he shouldn’t have mentioned anything except he felt so confidential towards me, but it’s nothing. He actually looked like he was like to start shedding tears then, and I got up and took his face in my hands, and asked him if that’s what he meant when he said it was too late for me to tempt him to hell, and he said yes in a dead tone. I asked him what Willard made him do, because I knew it must be Willard. He said I must not know for the sake of the household, but he thanked me for being so sensitive to him, and that it had made him feel better, and that we had better not waste any more time.

I figured there would be time ahead for Charles to confide if he could and wanted to, and here he was asking for forgetting and cheering up, so I said to him all mock offended that am I then a waste of time? And we were back to laughing and tickling each other again.

Charles got out a cigarette, showed it to me, and said that it was not tobacco. I asked him what, and he was all mysterious. It smelled good when he lit it up, though, so I didn’t care. He taught me how to smoke on it, which felt nasty to me, because all smoking is a sin. Once he got me going on it, he said he would be back in a minute and left.

True to his word, Charles was back in a minute with two small glasses and a bottle half full of amber liquid that I knew to be whisky. He set it down, and I teased him again, was he now going to teach me all the sins in order? He replied without hesitating that if it was needed, he would be the one to do it. I knew he was thinking of the thing again, whatever had him by the tail, and I told him truly to forgive himself. He just smirked at me. I asked him does Richard know? He said yes, he had no secrets from Richard. Did Richard hate him? He said no. I said again, he must forgive himself.

Charles filled the two glasses, and said we must drink it. I replied I would drink it if he forgave himself. He looked me in the eye and said he forgave himself, and then he threw the entire contents of the glass down his gullet at once, swallowed, and clapped the glass back down on the table. With many more faces and bleh sounds and gargling and gurgling, I finally got the fiery contents down me, then clapped my glass down too. We stared at each other. He smiled like a fool and said it was worth forgiving himself just to see me struggle the contents of that glass down so silly, and the remembrance of the scene would cheer him for life.

Then Charles said we must have another, and poured it. I said he had to forgive himself again, and he looked me in the eye again, and said he did, and smacked it down. I did mine in two gulps this time. He looked impressed. Then we talked about how silly his younger sisters were, and how they loved to play tricks on him all the time.

After a while, I started to get dizzy, and Charles told me to lie down on the bed and put my head over the edge of the bed all the way so I was looking at the wall. I did, and the room stopped spinning, but everything looked upside down, because it was upside down, I suppose, or I was, except I was just on my back. I was thinking on this when he asked me to start touching myself in the private way I do.

I confided to Charles I did not yet have a way, but I started up as best I could from what Deirdre had shown me. When I was sexing myself, he asked me if I remembered what he was to be teaching me, and I said yes, the service, to take members in my mouth. He set down a chair close in front of me, and then he sat down in the chair. He was naked.

Charles asked me if I was ready, and I made little kissing noises with my mouth and told him that he was drooping up and get it in here! I was feeling very silly and was still all upside down with the whisky and herb. He sidled forward on the chair, and fed his mostly limp dick into my mouth with his fingers. I accepted it gleefully. I was already pretty good at this part, the getting it hard part, and I wanted to show him he was not starting from scratch. I started rolling it around in my mouth real savory, and it got bigger quickly. He said glory, I was pretty good with this part, which made me smile, but not so hard as to bite him, of course.

I was getting urgent by this time, so I asked Charles if I could climax, he being in the middle of a serious lesson and all. He said I could. I said I never did it with something in my mouth. He asked could I do it without biting? I said yes, and sucked on his tip really hard and then started humming out my climax fiercely.

As I was busy climaxing, Charles gently slid his dick down my throat, and though my gullet wiggled and jiggled a little, it just felt so sleepy with the whisky I guess and distracted with the climax that everything was fine. After the climax was over, he was just still in there for a little while, but he knew I was running out of air, so he slid it out slowly, and that’s when I choked a little with a “cuh!” sound when he came out. And then I could breathe again.

Charles praised me for taking his dick all the way down my gullet, and I was surprised, because I thought he was only down there a little ways, and it was going to be harder. He said, no, I got it all on the first try, and would I like to try relaxing like I had during my climax and trying it again? I opened my mouth wide by way of saying sure, and he slowly put it in again. When he reached the back of my mouth, I said “cuh!” again, but he just kept it still there, and my throat kept dancing but the pushing up part didn’t kick in, so he slid it in a little further.

Pretty soon Charles had it all the way in again, and I was playing with my button fierce towards another one, and I was busy dying from no air, which I’ve learned is really good because it makes my excitement bounce around in me like drops of water in a hot pan.

After my eyes rolled back or something, Charles came out again with another “cuh!” from me, but a softer one. I stopped playing with my button because I wanted to save it until he went back in, because I knew I could have a really good hard bouncing one then. He said it was so hard to come out because my throat muscles were dancing around like crazy in there and it felt so good. But, he said, when my hands slowed down, he knew I was close to senseless, and he thought he’d better give me some air.

The next time Charles went in, I started having a really wet quivering one, and then I felt a warm squirt in my chest and knew he had done his deed in there, which made it even better. He pulled right out after, and I started coughing and lost the climax. Everything eventually went down the right pipe, but it was a close thing. He told me I was a natural, because my throat muscles fluttered so nice, and that was unusual. He said it pleasured him greatly.

Next time, a few minutes later, I was starting to feel less dizzy. I took off my dress for Charles, and he said he’d been warned before about my burn. I said don’t worry about it. This time he moved slowly in and out of my throat, and though I had a little “cuh!” most times, it wasn’t bad, and I had plenty of air, and when he climaxed it went down the right pipe. So, good. And he said it very exquisite, because my throat muscles were dancing up a storm, and it felt very good. He also said I was very beautiful, and watching my body while he was doing it made it very good.

Next time, it was getting dark out. Charles went in and out of my throat at a canter this time, if not an all-out run. It was still pretty good. I had learned to relax and open almost to sleep while he did it. He lasted a pretty long time and said it was pretty wonderful. I was fully awake and aware after.

Next Charles said I should try him on my knees with him standing up. There was a new bend, but after a while, it was pretty easy. It’s a special kind of relaxing, whether lying down or on your knees. He told me looking him in the eyes while I was doing it down there made it better. For me too! He couldn’t finish this time, but I really got good practice.

We were tired by then and it was time for bed. We fell asleep almost right away. A few hours later, he woke me up. It was glorious for me to finally have him in my cunny. I’m sure I woke up the whole house with my howls, but I couldn’t help it. I had gotten really worked up through all the practicing without getting poked. He did it to me fast and hard twice in a row without hardly stopping, which was exactly what I needed. Partway through the second time, Emma pounded on the door and told me to quiet down. I bit a pillow after that. I was resentful, because someone really should have pounded on the door back when I was getting my head bashed in by John.

Charles woke me up again later on, and I screamed into my pillow through a couple more times. He was wonderful. We woke up at dawn together and he said he could stay, so we did it a couple more times then. He had a nice big batch for me the first time this time. I thanked him very much for it. He got up then and asked me whether I wanted to practice again, but I told him that now sucking was for other men except for the excitement part. He was to finish in my cunny every time we did it, because I wanted his baby. He seemed a little flustered and perplexed, then left to go about his business.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:36:14 AM by Sweetums »



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Chapter 6: James

Thursday, 23 September 1880.

Last night I learned I'll abandon all my principles, even that women should not be forced, if I find a man I think I can redeem. Or maybe it was not redemming him I was after, in truth. Maybe it was merely that I got too curious at how his batch would feel deep in my cunny. If so, this dissipate wager of mine paid fully, since it turned out to do the trick for me three out of three times. The point is, I may have no moral compass, which befits my sure and eventual destination, I suppose.

Emma warned me sorely about James, my visitor of last night. She said he was savage and angry because Willard did not love him or favor him. She said he had personally mistreated her cruelly and called her an ugly old biddy. She added that James and Charles had never gotten along, and they had gotten into frequent fistfights over the years, even to this day.

With that resounding endorsement, I had Emma don my armor as if I was to withstand the siege of Troy. By “armor” I mean “bacon grease,” and by “Troy” I mean, well, you can guess. First she cleaned out my backside with a couple of warm rinses. Once you are used to it and really get full to bursting both times and then really relax and let go, this feels marvelous and arousing.

Then she slathered on the bacon grease back there, and it started by feeling full and tingly, one, and then two, and then three of her slender fingers in and out slathering away, with me trying best not to moan and just purr because I felt so close to her and it felt that good. For her part, Emma seemed to really like ministering to me more and more this way, and asked me again and again whether I liked it and whether it felt good, to which I had to confess, panting, yes.

Then she applied the bacon grease to my cunny using the same procedure. Three fingers was full to bursting for me there, but I quickly found when I relaxed and listened to Emma’s calming voice the pleasure poured in. The pleasure from Emma’s fingers lulled me into a stupor as I looked into her eyes and she said soothing things to me like that’s right, relax into it. Then I found myself shaking and whimpering in a quivering climax in Emma’s arms, trying not to howl out my pleasure and give us away to the whole household. I wanted the secret of it. Our eyes said to each other that this was private just for us.

When my shaking had calmed, Emma removed her fingers, dressed me, and told me she loved me very much, both like a daughter and like a sister wife. I said I loved her very much too and would like an opportunity to please her as she had just pleased me. She told me that she would have to assign me permanent accommodations soon, and that she was currently the only sister wife who was not sharing a room and a bed with at least one other sister wife when we were not otherwise occupied. She asked breathlessly whether I would enjoy sharing her room and her bed with her, and I said breathlessly yes.

She warned me that this arrangement would probably only be one night a week, except that my clothes, other belongings, and my writing desk would always be there in our room. This was because it was likely I would be “booked up solid,” and by this I expected she meant called to other men’s beds all the other nights. The only night we would have would be each night after the field house, because the rules said no man should have me overnight directly after this. We went back to my room after that conversation, and she left me there to wait in great trepidation for James’s arrival.

When James arrived, I found he was such a different sort from any other of the sons I had yet seen. His face was heavy browed and heavy lidded. He was stocky and very muscular. He was about average height for a man instead of towering over me as the other sons did. He was still a head-and-a-half taller than me, though. His complexion was dark, his hair and full beard (very full for an 18-year-old!) were jet black, and I was to learn he was very hairy everywhere.

I greeted him with cheer as I would any newly met member of my new household, and his face lit up and almost entirely changed composure. He at once seemed to me carefree, gentle, and eager to please, and not at all like the man Emma had described to me.

He smiled and mentioned he’d received a lot of threats not to mess with me. I asked him what was his verdict, would he mess with me? He answered that now he’d seen me, he dearly wanted to mess with me, but not in the way they were all warning him about, only in a gentle way. I smiled because I took that as a compliment. Then my mischief grabbed me something fierce, and I asked him, what if I didn’t want him to only be gentle? He assured me yes, if I asked, I would receive. This banter was getting me curious. My curiosity would be answered.

Supper arrived shortly after, and we sat down together to eat it. Soon we got on to my favorite dinner topic, the rule. I asked him what he thought of it. He said he believed it was an abomination, but that men and families must sometimes sin to make their way in the world, at least until they could see the light of a more godly way to increase their numbers, and did I know of one?

I didn’t answer him directly, and said instead it would be more godly for a woman to choose to help and how to help, rather than be forced.

He argued why should he force a good woman such as myself to make this hard decision and take on this sin, rather than have me remain pure, and take the sin and the threat of eternal hell himself by making the decision for me? Why should he make a woman damn herself else let her family die? He refused.

I asked him clearly, does it give you the right to force me? And he replied quickly and passionately that it obligated him to the duty of forcing me, and obligated him to take on the sin on behalf of the family and especially the women of the family, regardless of what they thought of him, and many of them hated him. He didn’t care. Many of them, in his opinion, were hypocrites who would take on the sin and then lamely invite others to join them, and then act as if redoubling the sin by damning others made them better people. It sickened him.

I must say, his arguments muddled me, like I had not thought things through clearly, but I felt I must press on. I repeated that clearly it was wrong to force a woman. He asked me whether it was right to save the household. I answered clearly yes. He asked me what my best idea was for saving the household. I confessed I had none yet. I didn’t know enough about the problem, having just arrived.

We had finished supper by now. He assured me that when felt I had better idea, he would listen to me very carefully and welcome my ideas as being obviously from a very smart and literary girl, but in the meantime, he would be about his business. With this, he stood, grabbed me firmly but not roughly, and put me on my knees in front of him. Then he unbuttoned his pants and let out his dick. His belly and legs were hairy with jet black hair like the rest of him, and his bush was full. His dick, even half hard, was the thickest I’d seen. He ordered me to service him.

Instead, I asked him, looking up at him, whether he wanted to be with me soul to soul, or did he see me as just some convenient doll for to pleasure himself with or make a baby for his daddy?

He answered that maybe he did just want an obedient doll. That’s how everybody treated him, like just another dog in the yard. He said it to me more harshly: suck my dick woman!

We glared at each other. I said make me, and then I braced for to get punished.

He stood there, he looking down on me, me looking up at him. Finally, he turned away from me. His ass was all hairy, too. Thick hair. Then he walked away from me and leaned against the bedpost. More like waddled away, since his britches were half down. I was not sure whether he was addressing me or the Lord, but he said Lord, he didn’t have the strength to force me. He said I was close to an angel, and he saw the marks of John’s hurt upon me, and it gutted him, and he couldn’t.

This was a good man, a worthy man. My course was clear, and damn all the philosophies. I said, come here and let me have your dick in my mouth, please. He waddled back, still looking a little sad, and maybe now a little confused. As I took it in and looked up at him, a look of blessed calm and joy suffused his face as I felt his dick swell and harden. I savored it in my mouth as it grew thicker and reached slowly a bit into my throat. He was clean and tasted good. There were hairs.

I believe there was unspoken agreement between us that we would set our conflict aside for now. I had won, because he couldn’t bring himself to force me. He had won, because I knew I should have him, the terms not so urgent for my clear purpose. So there it was. I slowly opened enough to take him down my throat. His dick was just like the rest of him, stocky. I bobbed on him for a while, and then he stopped me, all worked up. He said he’d never felt a woman with such a throat before. Then he asked me please, very politely, to play with myself and show him.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my bloomers. There was already a big wet spot on them, and I confessed, a little shy, that I was already so wet from feeling him in my mouth and throat. I pulled up my dress and showed him. I started to touch my cunny for him.

He said that I was good, and he grabbed me and slid me over to the edge, and put his dick up to me, stirring my wet a little with his tip to try to get himself all moist. I opened my mouth to say okay, but then thought better, not wanting to break our truce, and he knew anyway, he knew. I kept my mouth open though, as he started in a little, because I felt I might have to let a little breath out for him to fit it in further, it was stretching me so wide. He was going gentle and nice, though, and I was staying slippery enough. He would hold and let me work my hips down to take him in a little bit more, and then we would relax and he would get himself a little closer.

There was some pain as he entered that faded over the course of the evening. He was uncomfortably thick, but after a while of him slowly moving in and out of me, I was able to get used enough to it to feel the excitement build in me like usual. I couldn’t move around myself at all or it hurt. Once he was comfortable in me and saw I was comfortable enough with his holding and pushing, he began to relax and tell me how lovely I was. I know a man’s heart opens wide during this time, and I thought it was fine.

Then he got urgent, and he sped up, but was still careful, and pushed and strained, and I could feel his warm wet put inside me. As I have recounted, I truly love to get it, and that climaxed me right there, and I ached out a long sound like a wounded bird, and my whole body shook for a while. He remarked afterward that it looked like I was stabbed and was dying, but he knew it was my moment, and it made him proud to do it to me.

Then he pulled it out and woof! Everything ran out of me. He pulled up his britches mostly and fetched a towel for me, and with another one he wiped the floor, and the side of the bed, and his britches some. It was everywhere. After that, we rested and talked more, but not about choice. I told him about the farm where I grew up. He said it sounded wonderful.

By then, it was dark outside and nearly bedtime. We got naked and under the comforter, and he wanted to go again. He licked me a little and was good at it, but I didn’t really need it. The second time, he lasted a long time. I had a really good deep one partway through, and then I joined him again at the end. I was holding it back awhile because I knew he was close, and I felt like doing it while feeling his seed again. It was a really big one because I was so ready. He fetched more towels, and we fell asleep on them.

I woke at dawn with him having a big hard cock and wanting me again. It seems I am always ready for a man at dawn, so he had little trouble getting into me, but he was gentle starting all the same. I guess we were practiced to couple by then. We finished together, and he dressed and kissed me. When he got to the door, he came back and kissed me once again. He told me I had stormed his heart. Then he left.

I rose and dressed soon after and started writing this account. When Emma visited me just now, I told her I found James to be a good man, and begged her to forgive him and take him to her heart. She said mayhap God performed a miracle through me on him, she could fully believe it. She promised to talk to him, tell him she wanted to know him new, and take him to her heart if he would have her. That warmed me.
« Last Edit: August 18, 2020, 07:33:51 AM by Sweetums »



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Caution: This chapter contains violence towards women.

Warning: DO NOT attempt the sexual acts depicted in this work of fiction. Some of them, if performed in real life, could cause permanent injury, break bones in the throat, lead to cardiac arrest, stroke, or even death. Just don’t do it.

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Chapter 7: George

Friday, 24 September 1880.

Last night on my descent towards hell, I met a true and unrepentant demon who pulled me many times from the land of the living into the ecstatic worlds that exist beyond the pale. He tortured me in many permanent ways, and I should loathe him. His father Lucifer pierced a dagger of betrayal through his hollow heart as I watched; he cried tears of shame on me after, and I could not help but open my heart to him for it. He found the key to my substance and gave me unspeakable pleasure from beyond death whenever it pleased him, which was often. He filled my evening and night with pleasure far more intense than that available anywhere in this world. We share deep secrets and a deep bond now, transcending death itself. This spells my damnation.

Emma acknowledged that I may have performed a miracle on James, but she assured me that George was an unrepentant demon sent from hell only to torture us. She said he was a simpering toad-licker to John, young and foolish besides, even given his 16 years, and wild and angry lately, because his young wife wouldn’t let him this past month because she is newly with child and does not want to lose it. Since her refusal, he has been yanking on any skirt that moved, dragging it into any nearby corner, and forcing her with only a gob of spit for preparation, such that the entire household of women was terrified to see him close by.

Frankly, this was not all bad news to me. I savored the opportunity to have Emma lather up Troy again for the coming attack. She filled my behind to bursting three times this time, starting to rightly suspect it was getting me feeling ready. I don’t know if it is, or if it is just anticipating what comes after that gets me feeling ready.

This time she had me on my belly, with ultimately three fingers in my bottom, and pushing down more and towards my tummy. She kept working as my loins tensed and breath quickened. Then I climaxed in my bottom with a low moan, and bit a pillow I had handy in case. It was a long shaking one, and she kept working her fingers until I was all done with it.

After I was done, she said she hadn’t believed it, but she had heard a rumor that some men had made me do it, and she had already seen from before how much I liked it, so she thought she would try to make me have one. In all her 50 years, she had never seen anyone have one before. She had thought it was just a tale.

Then it was time for her to prepare my cunny. I was so worked up from her bottom work that I must have climaxed for her a dozen times from my cunny in as many minutes. After this I rested half dead and caught my breath as she wiped my sweaty body off with a warm cloth, just like a mother cat and her kitten. Then she dressed me, patted my rump, and led me to battle.

When George arrived, I was naked and on my knees, even though it was before supper. I had learned this from my encounter with John. He nodded to me and sat down at the table. I wisely stayed on my knees as he addressed me. He told me he was pleased by how submissive I had greeted him.

He said since I had greeted him so nice, he would make a few things clear between us so that we were more assured to have a pleasant evening together. He told me that if I disobeyed, fought, or even talked back to him at any time, he would still have me however he wanted, have me do whatever he wanted, just much more uncomfortable for me, as uncomfortable as he could make it without leaving scars. If I didn’t believe him, he would be happy to demonstrate. The way he said it didn’t make we want to test him. He had a cold, dead way about him when he said this.

He told me that he expected me to remain quiet throughout, even if he gave me too much pleasure, for he had heard my customary noises. They were unacceptable. If I could not remain quiet throughout, he would choke me as needed to keep me quiet. He said I shouldn’t take this as punishment if it happened. He wouldn’t do it punitively. Merely, it was only what was required of him to maintain an appropriate, godly, quiet house. In retrospect, I found out that his pregnant wife was only a few doors down the hall, and I suspect he made this rule because he had not wanted to upset her, but as it happened, she was otherwise distracted, as I’ll tell.

Then Emma knocked and came in with the supper. She frowned a little when she saw me naked on my knees and shivering a little. She ignored me, though, set the table, and left.

George unbuttoned his trousers and called me over to service him under the table as he ate. After he cleaned his plate, he reached under the table and held my head tight to him, suffocating me. My throat began to squirm terribly as I choked. I felt shame as I felt the wetness rise up in me at this. Then he spunked several squirts down my throat, grunting softly. As I was near to dying, he let me go, and I sat back, dizzy and panting. He said he’d never felt a throat that called so strongly for his seed like that, and called me a freak. Needless to say, I was not flattered.

Then he exchanged his empty plate for my full one, and told me to do it again. I started to be very happy to be draining this sick little toad-licker dry with my throat. I was sure by then I didn’t want his seed anywhere near my womb if I could help it. It took him about the same amount of time to clean my plate of food as it had to clean his own. Once he had finished my food, he popped his dick out of my mouth, pushed his chair back, stood up, and asked me to crawl from the table and service him some more. When I got to him, he grabbed my head and held it still while he pleasured himself in and out of my throat forcefully, my spit and choke dribbling onto the floor. He squirted down my throat a second time.

A moment later, after pulling out and wiping his withering dick with his dinner napkin, he announced that he needed to pee, and to fetch the chamber pot for him. I did with all haste, and made to hand it to him, but he told me to get back on my knees and set it in front of me, and I did. Then he told me to put my cunny on the edge of the pot, as if to pee in it. I squatted on the pot, but he said farther back, so I set farther back.

He told me that now we’d both had dinner, it was time for my dessert. He told me to open my mouth, which I did. I figured what was coming. He said I didn’t have to swallow it; I could let it run down my chin and body into the pot if I liked. Then he let loose with his stream right into my mouth. I closed my throat, and it overflowed my chin and ran down off my chin and some between my breasts, mostly into the pot. He continued this until he was empty, then he shook off onto my face. After he backed away, I spit the rest into the chamber pot. Then he told me I could put away the chamber pot and wash off, which I did.

Then he told me to get on the bed, and I did. I lay on my tummy with my legs together, trying to tempt him with my anus. It worked, because he came up behind me and slid his dick along my butt crack for a while. I writhed like I was enjoying it a little, which I would have been, excepting the company. His dick soon hardened, and he slid in easily due to Emma’s thorough preparation of me. He began to pump away.

As he did, he asked me whether it was really true I could reach my moment merely from a man being in here, meaning my bottom. I said yes, sir. He said show me, and continued. When his breathing got all ragged and I could tell he was real close, and frankly I was feeling a little saucy too, I started crying out, I thought pretty softly, and I jerked my butt towards him a little, and I made my back hole like I was clipping off a turd again and again. I felt him squirt, and then he grabbed my throat from behind with both hands and started choking me. He had caught me empty of air. In my surprise at this, I actually began a real climax. My body started shaking all over like possession, and my eyes bulged out hard. My climax bounced around inside me intensely with no way to escape.

He pulled out his dick and let me go before I passed out, and I immediately started gulping in air with my whole body it seemed, my head spinning with dizzy. He told me I was interesting to watch, and called me a freak again. Then he told me to clean his dick off with my mouth, which I did without hesitation.

He sat around on the bed and played solitaire with a deck of cards while I rested, just staying still where he had left me, like a toy cast aside. I was doing my best to not provoke. It grew dark as he played.

Near bedtime, he asked me to suck him up again, and I crawled over and did it. Then he said, spread for me, and I got on my haunches and spread my butt cheeks, but he couldn’t be tempted. He said, no, the normal way. Frowning but fearing punishment, I turned over and spread my legs to bare my cunny to him. He climbed over, lay down on me hard, and thrust it in without so much as checking. Luckily, I was prepared, and it went in easily.

After a while, I felt close and moaned without thinking. He quickly choked me silent with both hands and a lot of pressure. I climaxed immediately, bucking my hips and squirming. He fell out. He let me up, and as I gulped in air, he gave me a tap with his open palm on the right side of my head. In retrospect, I think this was just meant to be a warning for squirming around so much, but he hit me right where the bedpost had hit me, so it hurt like thunder, and I cringed and whimpered awfully.

Surprisingly, he stammered an apology, and asked was I hurt bad. I answered no sir.  He said he didn’t mean to hurt me, just stop moving so much. I nodded through my tears, still dizzy. Then he pulled my legs apart again, lined up, and rammed into me again. After pumping away in me a while, he started choking me again, and though it got me more worked up, my head still hurt too much for me to near a climax. He let me loose. Before he finished, he choked me six more times, and I climaxed for him once on one of those times. When he made his final push, he choked me again, and I helplessly climaxed for him again. I couldn’t feel his emission. This should have made me smile, but I almost sobbed.

After I cleaned George’s dick in my mouth and he called me freak several more times in various ways, we slept. In the middle of the night, he woke me up by jumping out of bed. Then I heard a woman making noises down the hall, love-making noises. He walked into the hallway, leaving the door ajar. I got out of bed to look through the crack and see what was happening. He banged on a door down the hall with his fist. Willard answered a minute later, and asked him what he was up in arms about in the middle of the night.

George said Willard had Nancy in there, which is George’s wife, and Willard replies what of it? George asks him why are you bothering her? Willard replies that he thought as long as George was bothering his wife, me that is, he would bother George’s. George complains that Nancy is pregnant and delicate and should not suffer this. Willard replies it is not much danger once the bump is evident, and didn’t George once beg him to live fully under the rule as John and Franklin did?

Anyway, Willard continued, he was being real gentle with her and making sure she was thoroughly pleasured throughout, or hadn’t he heard? Willard said, she seemed pretty needy to him, and easily stimulated. Hadn’t he been caring for her properly? With that, Willard shut the door. George turned on his heel and I could see he was glum. I raced back to the bed and made as if still asleep.

A moment later, George came back into the room, shut the door, and climbed into bed. He reached for me, rolled me, spread me, and started pumping his rock hard dick in me. I think he was still thinking about what was happening to his wife in the other room. I felt a hot tear drip down from his face on to me. I acted like I was waking just then. After going in me for a while, and more silent tears, he choked me, and my legs shot out, and I climaxed for him. We continued like this, and he choked me again several times. One time I lost sense and woke up in pain when he shook me back awake. I don’t know how long I was senseless, but I expect not long. Finally, he splashed four big hot dollops into me as he choked me. My hips rolled and I shuddered in an ecstatic climax for George as I slowly and willingly died while fully, in my mind and heart, accepting his seed. Then he let me breathe, I heaved in blessed air again, and the night and the darkness of the room returned.

After this, I held him, and felt a few more tears drip on me. I should hate him for his despicable nature, but instead I love him for knowing his secret torment and him knowing the secrets of my body so well I climax at practically his every touch. No two people were ever closer than we were in that moment. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, he crying softly, me thrilling at his touch.

At dawn, George roused and woke me with his movements. My throat was tender to the touch. He got up, dressed, and went into the hall. I got to peeking as he went to his wife’s door and pounded on it again. He shouted, “Wake up, old man! There’s work!” From inside, Willard called, “Leave me!” George grumbled and walked off down the hall.

I heard just now that Willard just gave George five lashes for bruising my throat. No wonder George is so evil. The only generous thing he did last night, he got punished for.

« Last Edit: November 07, 2020, 11:20:49 PM by Sweetums »



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Caution: This chapter contains violence towards women.

Chapter 8: Franklin

Saturday, 25 September 1880.

Sometimes men, grown-up boys really, is who I speak of, gain positions of power through birth or accident that we all know, including them, they are wholly unequipped to deal with. Though most men rise at least somewhat to the occasion, there are a rare few who, stunted mentally, emotionally, and physically at birth I figure, continue to flounder utterly, causing devastation and terrible hurt in their wake. Caligula of ancient Rome was said to be such a figure, as is our own Franklin Smith, on a very much smaller stage, thankfully. Woe betides the leader or community that allows such an abomination. God’s retribution starts swift, in the form of the damage caused every moment such a miscreant holds power.

Emma said Franklin, at 14 the newest man in the household, was the worst of them, and was maybe not even human. She said if there were justice in the world, which we all know there isn’t, he should have died before he was ever put in charge of any thing or any woman.

A time after his marriage, Franklin was spanking asses, poking in his finger, and otherwise annoying the sister wives working in the kitchen late one evening. His own mother, Sophia, Willard’s seventh wife counting Phebe, asked him politely to tone it down. For her back talk to him, he ordered her onto her hands and knees on the floor, and for the next half hour he had her from behind in the cunny, right in front of everybody, his own mother!

Emma had witnessed some of it, and while Franklin did it, he was saying horrible things like what a saggy old bag of a cunt Sophia’s was, and so on. Then he spunked in her and announced to the sister wives still trying to ignore him and go about their duties that thanks to his mother’s insolence, she would now have a deformed child. Luckily, Sophia got her blood after, but still. Willard spoke to him after and demanded he must not finish anymore in his mother or sisters, but did not punish him for it as far as Emma knew.

Emma and I spent our time together, and it was so pleasurable that I easily forgot my cares until she was dressing me and patting my ass as she does after. This time we kissed some long romantic kisses throughout, and it felt squirming and wonderful and close between us and altogether satisfying. After this care, I felt I could withstand anything.

When Franklin came into the room, I was on my knees and naked. He is not much taller than me, being only 14, with only a few stray hairs on his chin. It was palpable in his demeanor that he thought he was less than everybody, and so to maintain his new position, felt a desperate need he did not understand to make me less even than himself.

He approved grudgingly of the way I greeted him, though he knew me to be insolent because of the marks on me, and said it was actually his idea that women should start on their knees naked in the evening for their men, and it was the best idea, and he was the best son for thinking it. His voice cracked and broke as he spoke, so he would squeak one moment and croak the next.

I was shivering and abusing my knees on the hard floor, but the most painful thing about waiting for supper to arrive was trying to look attentive as he sat at the table and told blatant lies in favor of himself or as slights to others, mostly Richard. Finally, after a seeming eternity of listening to his croaking self-aggrandizing chatter, Emma came in, set down the supper, and left again.

Franklin sighed, and said he was thankful, because it had been hard to for him wait so long. He made me get the chamber pot, and squatted on it as soon as I fetched it for him. He chuckled mischievously as he dropped a long, heavy, stinky load into the pot. I was back in my position on my knees in front of him. He idly tweaked my nipples as he waited for his guts to settle, and he spoke more about his stunning achievements since becoming a man. Yes, the household was truly great again under his leadership.

He got up and wiped his bottom with my dinner napkin. Then he grabbed my spoon and returned to the commode. He spooned out a little part of a turd, and held it up to me, and said open your mouth. I did, and he fed me the turd and asked me politely to savor it and then swallow it down. He explained while I was doing this and forcing myself not to retch that now I would be as healthy as he was, and this was a blessing. He also bragged about how huge and stinky a turd he had made his bride Catherine eat on their wedding night the previous year. Good times, according to Franklin.

After I had swallowed and showed him my empty mouth for confirmation, he asked me to praise how good his turd was. I figured, at least this was a chance for me to get really creative, and I described it like I would a fine piece of steak, all juicy and savory in the mouth. He said now I had made him angry, but he could not hit me, and this was unfair. I was definitely going to miss my supper, though. Luckily, anticipating this, I had eaten earlier, and felt grateful I hadn’t lost it choking down Franklin’s turd.

He finished his supper with me still kneeling on the floor. During this time, he returned to his self-praise, regaling me now with some of the “disciplines” he most liked to visit on his wife, and how they had made her a better person. Halfway through this, he finished his meal, and thought instead to demonstrate to me. He couldn’t mark me, though, so he told me he needed to prepare so I did not squirm too much and hurt myself.

He pulled some leather straps from a bag he brought with him, and at first I thought he meant to whip me, but instead, he buckled them tightly on one end around my ankles. Then he had me get on the bed with me laying on my back sideways. Then he attached the strap on my right ankle high on the foot bedpost and the strap on my left ankle to the head bedpost, and then tightened them both until my legs were out straight as much as possible with my bottom still resting on the bed. This was almost over to the edge of the bed.

He attached some similar straps to my wrists and cinched them down tight to the other two bedposts. I could still move my shoulders a little, but it was uncomfortable, and my legs were getting pulled something fierce. I was whimpering in actual torment now, and Franklin could see my legs were pulled too tight. He said this was not supposed to be the discipline part; we were getting to that. He let my legs both out one notch and it became bearable.

Then he undressed. I almost snickered when I saw his little mushroom dick, but I caught myself. No wonder he was such a master of torture; it was about all he could do with a woman. Hard as it was, it was small, and looked like a little mushroom with a bit of a stem. In that moment, I wished it would grow up some more as he did. I know I am too softhearted, caring for the happiness of both wolf and sheep regardless. It isn’t a sin. Soon enough, though, he would torture any kind thoughts I could have for him out of me.

Franklin took a good look at my cunny, and said he understood why women got so wet for him like this, but it was tiresome and uninteresting for him to slosh around, and he preferred a nice dry one. With that, he got a small towel, and snapped it hard on my cunny; this made me shriek in pain. He snapped again; another shriek from me.

He looked at it again and probably judged this was as much as he could hurt me this way without it being remarked on. Then he proceeded to wipe the bacon grease and other moisture off my cunny opening, me grimacing and whimpering at the raw spots he had made with the snapping. Then he twisted up one tip of it and ground it into my cunny opening, drying off deeper. This really hurt, and I shrieked in honest pain until he quickly stopped it.

Then he put his mushroom dick at my opening and started to hump. It burned because of the raw marks and the dryness, but he hadn’t been able to wipe off all the grease in every crevice, so after humping and hurting awhile and going nowhere because of the dry, he did get in me a little, still hurting with every excited hump. Just as he was done, he pulled out and shot on my bush and belly, explaining after that he wanted to keep me dry in there. He did not clean it up, but just let it sit and fester there on me throughout the episode.

He said considering he had me this evening, and was using me so hard for his own pleasure, it’s too bad the field house had me the very next evening, wasn’t it? There wouldn’t be too much left of me to enjoy, he promised, and they would probably become angry, and they might even kill me.

He warned me that if I misbehaved with them, they would tie me down with rope, not soft leather straps like his perfect, gentle, and compassionate straps, and it would cut me fierce. Willard never complained because the women were not supposed to disobey so much as to be tied by them. He then described all the whipping and cutting and burning they would do on my insolent carcass, but I knew he was lying, probably even about the rope. He was just trying to scare me. I tried to look interested, and he got frustrated with me again.

He climbed up and put his dick in my mouth, intending to get it hard. I savored it, because I had him where I wanted him, and tried to get him to climax. He was easy to seduce this way, as I complained he was choking my throat, and that nobody ever spunked me so deep there, and he must not violate me so. He grinned and shot it in, several squirts. It excited him.

After that, he stood around for a while recovering, and slapped my legs and feet with the towel some more, but not hard enough to leave a mark, just hard enough to scare. He did snap the towel hard on the soles of my feet, which was hard to take, but faded quickly.

It was dark by then. He went to get hard in my mouth again, but I was bewitching him, because even though he was saying stop, he didn’t pull it out, and spunked again in my mouth. He called me evil. He went back to hitting me with the towel, and did not try to poke in me again before bedtime.

At bedtime, he moved the arm and leg straps tied to the head of the bed to the foot, so I was looser, but still strapped both arm and leg to the foot of the bed. I groaned from being able to move my body a little again. I was very stiff. I could have undone the straps, but I didn’t want to provoke. He left me uncovered, but climbed under the covers himself, and quickly fell asleep.

I contemplated unstrapping myself and murdering him by bashing his head in with his own shitty chamber pot. It would serve him correct and surely remove a little evil from this world. I am not the one to deal such justice though. I can kill a bug or a snake. I can twist the head of a rabbit or chicken. Perhaps I could figure a way to work my way up to Franklin. I thought on it as I drifted off, shivering.

I woke shivering later as Franklin approached my bottom. He poked his member into my bunghole a little and moved it. He had forgotten to ungrease it, so it moved easily and was practically unnoticeable, just a little tickle. I drifted off to sleep again mostly as he rocked me. I felt him squirt a good big load. He pulled out, pushed it in my face, and demanded with a screech I should clean him off. I did so sleepily, he pulled it after a while, then climbed back in bed and fell asleep again.

This same thing happened one other time during the night, and then again at dawn. After this, he recovered his straps, and then he was gone out the door.

A miracle has been granted by God to me that my cunny feels perfect this afternoon despite Franklin’s attempt to ruin it and cause me extra hurt with the field house. With the pathetic Franklin out of the way, I feel ready to face the rough men of this farm for the first time in as good a fettle as I might ever be prepared to.
« Last Edit: November 07, 2020, 11:22:02 PM by Sweetums »



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Chapter 9: The Field House

Sunday, 26 September 1880.

Last evening was my first evening at the field house. In all confidence, I must report that I enjoyed myself well enough throughout to continue climaxing, though it was often frightening. It was like having a huge happy beast, slightly distracted by alcohol, tie me down and play with me roughly and demandingly all evening, night, and into the morning. I was so worried that it would start to hurt, but at the time, it didn’t really, even near the end, except for the terrible stiffness and the lack of sleep. Oh how they snored! Now I’m feeling very tender in my cunny, feeling a bit raw in my bunghole, and also itchy now in both my holes, and stiff in my jaw and everywhere, and I am so glad to have an evening off tonight! I am sleepy now, but I don’t want sleep. Revise that, I am going to sleep.

Sunday, 26 September 1880 (later).

Despite assurances, I was worried as any woman would be under the circumstances. Instead, my earlier tickle of insight that I probably would find it more than merely acceptable to be had by all the stallions in the paddock was confirmed. Though it was frightening having man after man after man without any end in sight, not knowing how long I could take it, I got such a nasty tickle from each new man starting, excited to have me, that the thought alone helped me through greatly.

I know the climaxes they wrung from me by taking their pleasure of me served only to excite and encourage them even further. Even so, I was helpless to keep quiet once they really started going on me. So many men. So continuous. No woman who ever felt a tickle in her cunny could ever blame me for succumbing to that. At least I think the field men are all sweet on me now, so I doubt they’ll ever hurt me or abuse me intentionally, and so I’m not so fearful of my eventual return. I now know exactly how rough these men are and how sweet it can be to be taken in their rough way. I have their measure, and so I don’t believe there is even one among them who would enjoy a woman’s hurt for its own sake. That’s greatly to their credit, I would argue.

My evening began by Emma preparing me in our customary way. She did my bottom up nice, but didn’t need to see the climax again, just gentle and loving as only a woman can be to a girl. With my front hole, we kissed a lot as before, and I muffled a lot of climaxes into her mouth, so many that I lost count. I was sweaty when she was done with me, like a mare ridden hard, and I felt serene and ready for anything.

As Emma wiped off my sweat lovingly with a damp cloth, she told me that she had arranged a rare visit to the field house herself two nights ago. Three of the hands knew her from before, and she met the newer ones and found them all to be reasonably good men, big strong healthy men, and smart men. She had been impressed.

After serving them and having a breather, she had told them all about me, and how dear I was, and how good I surely would be to them once I got used to such unusual circumstances. They were excited to hear it and excited to meet me, very excited. She had also had a wonderful time with them, and she wanted to visit there again soon if Willard would allow it. Girls who needed to be bred took priority, and she was past that age, so she would probably have to wait a little. I could see she was actually unhappy to wait! It helped quiet my worry.

I asked her what exactly they did with her. She said they were organized. She said that the one named Paul had licked her up good, and after she’d had a climax that way, took her on a low table they had. After his spunk was in her slicking the path, she hadn’t found she needed any more wet, which is a concern at her age. After that, they each took her once in the cunt and put their seed up in her there. Sometimes the next one in line wanted a little mouth work to prepare, which she was happy to provide, and the table height made it easy. As it went on, she had more climaxes. She had found it was easy for her to get through them all, but then again she’d had years of long practice at it and was not afraid. They were a nice bunch compared to some she’d had over the years, and were not too impatient, and didn’t fight amongst themselves or hurt her during her time there.

With this, Emma dressed me, patted my rump, and made me knock back a full shot of whiskey. Then John, who oversees the field hands, arrived at Emma’s door to escort me over. I cringed a bit when I saw him, but he smiled, offered me his arm, and assured me that I had nothing to fear from him that night. It was just a cordial walk, and no hard feeling about what had happened before either way, he hoped. I strive to forgive always, and said I hoped we could be friends from now, and took his arm.

John led me all gentlemanly to the field house, and it was all proper and kind, except of course for the unmentioned fact that he was escorting me to be used all evening, night, and morning by six rough men at once. When we arrived, there were happy sounds of greeting when they saw me, most happy, and a few hungry. Once it quieted, the one I found out was Aaron asked was I the little bird he heard singing out across the fields the other day? I replied to him that I did not know, but I was known to sing if given reason to. More appreciative whistles and murmurs from the men at this. It was rare for them, I think, that a new wife would dare to flirt back at them.

While I was being eyed and catcalled by the men, John was instructing the foreman Bert in low tones. He thought I wasn’t paying attention, but I can read two conversations at once. John simply advised Bert to restrain me immediately or expect I would make trouble if he didn’t. I suppose John felt that was the most damage he could do without being blamed for it. Bert assured him he would, and then John left.

Bert seemed to wholly ignore John’s advice, which makes him a shrewd man in my estimation. Abe, my secret friend, proposed a gentle game they often offer to first time girls where each man in turn gets to kiss her and then twirl her. It sounded to me like a gentle enough way to start the evening. They formed a line abreast.

Bert the foreman, whose name I had overheard, said his name and greeted me first. Bert was a middle-aged, balding, wiry man nearing six feet in height. First we shook hands, all polite, then he grabbed me to him, and kissed me deep tongue in the mouth very passionate while clapping one hand onto my backside. I felt his member poke at my tummy, him so much taller. Then before I could recover my head, he took a step back and spun me around by the arm, like in a dance. I said you all are going to make me dizzy, and some of the men chuckled.

Next was Abe, massive and happy, with a winning smile, who was my secret protector here. He smelled much better than he had smelled in the field, all clean now with soap. Also, instead of a having a complexion of dirt and dirt as I had once surmised, he had freckles and an auburn red beard and hair. I had never kissed him before, and it was exciting to do it with the man who had already plowed me so well and given me such moments. After that and being whipped around dizzy again by him, I felt more confident that things would be okay.

Next was Aaron, maybe in his early twenties, and average height, fresh-faced and blond, and quite a smile. And quite a kiss! He held back a bit on the spinning me around part. Gentlemanly! As I was kissing him, I saw that Bert and Abe were already starting to take off their clothes.

Next was Paul, also twenties, a little stockier though not as massive as Abe, complexioned darker, more like Bert. He was the one who had gotten Emma started with his tongue. He kissed me nice and long, and took his time, both hands on my ass. I felt he was happy against my waist, but he didn’t press it in like Bert had. He spun me nice.

Next was Oswald, older than Paul, darker than Paul, and could be his brother. A saucy kiss. A saucy ass grab. In jest I clapped my hand to the front of him as he had to my ass, and felt he had a good hard one, and he looked at me comical and mock offended. The men who were not too busy undressing laughed, and he spun me around a good one.

Next was Edgar, who was enormous tall, almost as tall as Abe, but wiry like Bert. He had a wild silvery blond hair and beard. Being last in line with nobody waiting, he kissed and kissed at me, and I surrendered to him peacefully, tongues lazily rolling around with each other, his hands on my ass cheeks and mine at his waist. He had something frightening coiled up in his pants.

Finally, the other gentlemen were saying, okay, okay, next, and we broke it up, and he spun me about half way. I think we were both dizzy from the kiss. I whispered close to him begging him not to hurt me. He replied, you’ll see, it’ll be fine.

Edgar started lifting off my dress, and I was obedient. Hang it up nice please, I insisted, and he said yes, ma’am, and my bloomers, too, which I handed him, not wanting them ripped from me or some such, and he said yes, ma’am. And then Bert, who was naked as I had just gotten, and had his big hard one flapping, picked me up like nothing and over his shoulder, and took me to a low table near the back of the room. Sure, you go first this time boss, Edgar said behind us. All the men were undressing and putting away their clothes.

Bert set me down on a low table. It was at dick height, but Bert, being tall, put his legs apart a little to lower himself. He checked me, rolling his finger around in my cunny opening a little, and held up a wet finger, which suited him. I was a tight fit for any of them, with also my little cunny wringing itself part in fear of the coming onslaught and part in anticipation of it. At any rate, I was already slick, so he straightaway rocked his way in all the way to bursting and just moved all my guts gently out of the way with his hard one, ending with a pleasured wet grunt as he got his whole length in me.

I was thrilled up pretty good by this, but I didn’t climax then, because I was still terrified of my ultimate fate in this place, more now because it was really starting. Would it start hurting? But I had already surmised these men would be fine as long as I kept cordial myself. I didn’t think they would try to hurt me as long as I did what they asked. I knew these were hard men, sure hard enough to take any woman anyhow, willing or no. I knew Willard had picked them for that. But I also knew they meant no real harm. They were just having their fun. They just wanted their cunt of an evening, and I was their supply. So far, so good.

As I confess I began to enjoy the pleasure of Bert’s thrusts, I asked him whether the men would stop if I got hurt. He assured me no man wanted to hurt on me, but all were very needy tonight, this being their big night of the week, and drink was allowed. He said I should not worry so and should set my mind to enjoyment as the best of the wives could. A man behind him, I think it was Oswald, called next dibs on my cunny, and the men said okay. Paul called third. Someone else said they were all hard for me back there. Another said because she’s so thundering beautiful, and everyone agreed, yes the most spicy beautiful. I said, “Huh! Flatterers! Huh!” still trying to banter with them even though Bert’s dick was working the magic on me hard.

Bert said, I’m close boys, and then almost straightaway tensed and started shooting a great big savory batch up in me. I shrieked my guts out in climax at Bert’s delicious insemination, since, as you know, I can hardly ever resist a good batch. I had been real loud; somebody said it was like to stop somebody’s heart. There was laughter. I heard Aaron say that’s what he had heard before, presumably when Abe had me in the furrow. Paul announced, the slut likes it! Happy greedy sounds from the men accompanied this.

Before I had time to say anything, Bert was gone and replaced by Oswald, who stirred his dick tip around my opening once, and, presumably finding it runny enough with Bert’s and my juices, which I could feel were all over my ass, thrust his entire length straight in and started pumping. Oswald fit easily and felt nice right away. Also, this tickled my dream of many stallions just like being in the furrow had. I helplessly grabbed his ass as he worked me up good. I almost immediately had myself a surrendering moaning one and stretched my legs out like a cat while doing it.

Immediately there was another announcement from Paul that this one, meaning me, was a dirty whore for it! There were some shouts and whistles at this. I was deeply offended. I croaked out, “I did never – huh! – NEVER for money!” Paul immediately apologized and explained he had just got carried away in his description. It seemed sincere. These men were incongruous!

Then Oswald said, okay get ready next, and spilled his hot seed into me. I whimpered and shook in another climax, half from his announcement, I was so grunting for this quick succession of men so far. I heard Paul shout, such a slut! Before I could open my eyes, Oswald was gone, and there was Paul thrusting into my cunny as I opened my eyes again after my climax.

His face instantly flushed with pleasure as he stretched his length in me. I allowed myself to feel proud to be taking them so good so far. I knew it important to make their friendship whenever possible, so I politely told Paul Emma thanks you for the nice cunny licking, like I would thank him for a cup of sugar, and the men behind him had a chuckle, and Paul said Emma’s cunt had tasted like nectar, and was a delight, and it was an honor, him knowing of course she was first wife. Then he started breathing pretty hard and I confess I did as well because we were both feeling it good, I couldn’t help it.

Ragged breathed, Paul called ready back there, and the man said yo! Then Paul grabbed my legs like vices and strained his whole body into me as he splashed an immense hot batch into me. I felt it splash all over and out between us even. It felt so good, but I did not climax. I was too overwhelmed and scared right then of the quick and fleeting succession of urgent needy men and where it might lead, and where it might end. I started to cry instead. I was used to at least getting to know a man, even just his evil, before he speared me. It was too quick and impersonal for me just then. I had a fear on me this beast would kill me bloody.

Aaron replaced Paul. His smile down to me was brilliant as he breathed and pumped excitedly muttering, beautiful, pretty, so pretty, be calm girl, like he was steadying a horse. He didn’t seem to mind my tears. He held onto my breasts a little, then switched to my hips, grabbed hard, and yelled, ready. The man behind said ready, and Aaron shouted triumphantly and thrust his batch into me excitedly. I could actually hear some of the wet emissions of the previous men spatter onto the floor to make way for Aaron’s batch in my cunny. This time I couldn’t help it, and I whimpered out a small climax at this, transfixed by his lust-filled eyes taking me in, looking at his mouth pulled tight in joy and triumph.

Edgar, who thrust it in until my eyes bulged, immediately replaced Aaron. He was very excited and started pumping away rapidly and with concentration on his brow. Someone asked him how much did he get in? Edgar answered back most of it. Not all of it, I thought with some fear. But it did not feel like he was trying to put more. His thrusts felt firm but controlled. It was uncomfortable, but not too painful. When he was done, which was thankfully pretty quick, the pressure of his basting was unbelievable, because I think there was no room left in my cunny with most of his dick in there. I climaxed breathlessly for him and even shouted amen! I was excited and losing my sense. These relentless stallions had worked me up hard, and I was like a wagon at the top of a hill with no brakes.

Then there was Abe, and we smiled so bright at each other. It felt like a dream to see him among this mess. He put it in gentle, and said, after me, you’re through us all once, kitten, as he started pumping. I could tell because I knew him he was already really excited like the rest had been. I guess it had been a pretty good show for him to watch his five mates roughly breed me. I finally started to let go with Abe in me.

As Abe was pumping, it started rolling around in me so nasty that I was having the last of six different men like that. I howled like death in a big wet climax and grabbed my legs at his ass, but couldn’t get them around him. He was such a good big man pounding me! I was so happy and relieved it felt better than ever in my cunny at the end of the six of them. Someone, I think Paul, said don’t kill her Abe! Abe knew me, though, and didn’t slow down at my howl, God love him. As Abe approached his moment, and I could feel him approach, he muttered pretty, pretty, you’re all through us, pet.

Then he thrust in me gentle but firm, and I could feel a hot flood from him, confirming his excitement at having me again, and though I’d nearly just climaxed, I howled again louder “YES!!” and spread my legs wide to accept his seed as thoroughly wide and deep as I could manage. There was applause then I think. After my senses resumed, he was still inside, looking gentle down on me. I looked gentle up at him. A stream of men’s juices, and a little of mine, too, I expect, was running out around his cock, and as he gently slid out, it was a flood of men’s pudding I heard plop onto the floor.

From behind Abe, Paul said, I’ll have her cunny again now. Abe replied wait, we’ve all had her there now without a kick or complaint. Mayhap she’s hurt there and should rest. Paul joked no kicks? How about when she kicked out to accept your finish with that wail? Laughter. He argued this one, meaning me, was a hot one, and Abe had just shown them all she was not nearly done. Then to me, what say you, bitch, are you run out of your cunt? I answered fearfully no sir, not wanting to show weakness to them in this fearful moment.

Abe then stepped away from protecting me, and I could see the room. Most men were sitting down. They were now eagerly sharing a bottle of whisky among them, and handed Abe a shot. Paul approached, his face a mask of lust, and he slid in hard and easily, given all the slick and wet already. He started pumping and warned he would last longer this time. To make talk, I suppose, he said you’re sweating, it must be work to yell that loud, and he chuckled. I smiled weakly and looked away. I started feeling it, and helplessly started tightening up around him, and then he almost whimpered that I was so pretty, it was like a dream. I looked back and he was smiling down at me all gentle, and then I stretched out my arms and back across the table like a big pretty cat, let my head loll and my eyes shut, to just soak in his, I confess it, welcome good pounding with all my nerves.

Oswald came up to my left and told me suck him up and he would have me next. I asked, if my cunny needed a break, I’d happily serve him in my mouth or bunghole, but they seemed not to hear me. Oswald and Paul scooted me on the table so my face was over to the left side of the table so Oswald could start having my mouth. Oswald got hard in my mouth pretty quick and was soon to his length down my throat and held it. I choked a little, and when I did, he grabbed my head with surprise and held his member in with excitement as my throat thrilled around it.

Oswald took the Lord’s name in vain then, and told the boys there was a miracle down my throat. He pulled out then and said he would have shot if not. The other boys laughed and chatted with him curiously about it. Paul said I don’t believe you, and slid out of my cunny to walk around and thrust into my mouth and down my throat. Paul said Oswald just wanted to get to my cunny faster. Once Paul was fully lodged solid and still in my throat and I started thrilling again with no air, he swore up a storm himself as he felt my thrills and straightaway squirted a good dab into my throat and shuddered in ecstasy. As Paul was panting in ecstasy and swearing ungodly, given nobody else was in my cunny anymore, Oswald staked his claim there straightaway and started taking his pleasure.

Edgar stepped up to my face to try it out next, and then I really saw it. It was regular thickness, but it was verily long as my forearm. As he approached I asked incredulous you put that in me? And then “gukk!” as he didn’t slow down and put it in my mouth and down and down and down my throat without answering. He started running it in and out, but he had cut off my air both in and out. I jiggled and shuddered again in climax from the choking, the continuous breeding, and Oswald’s stirring of my cunny, and it bounced around and around in me. I felt Oswald loose his batch from seeing me jerk and shudder so, and this made it bounce around even more. Edgar took it out just as I was about dead, and as I gulped in air, he said that was by far the best throat he’d ever felt, and he’d had some fine Salt Lake City whores in his day.

Then Edgar put it back in my throat and started pumping again furiously as I started dying again. Abe then came up and slid his dick along my cunny opening. I grabbed and squeezed his hand to say yes as I kept dying from Edgar’s dick. Edgar launched a batch which I am fairly certain went straight into my stomach. Abe entered me again, and I thrilled. Edgar paused a moment in my throat as I shuddered, still choking, then withdrew and let me gulp air again. Abe, still taking his pleasure in my cunny without stopping, sounded concerned and told Edgar he had fairly killed me, but Edgar responded, no she’s fine, and asked me. To this I croaked “Yes!” still gulping in air.

Bert was in front of my mouth and said to the men that it seemed that I was still thirsting in my cunt and mouth, and I added breathlessly, bottom, because I wanted to make sure they spread the wear around, and he laughed and relayed, all three actually. Then he said to the men, he bet I will like both front and back together. I asked is that possible? I couldn’t figure it in my head. Sure, it’s possible, he answered. It was a novelty for them because it was awkward, but now that I was curious, and I then quickly assured him I was not curious, but it was too late.

After spending a little time in my throat and being duly amazed, Bert had Abe carry me over to the bed. To accomplish this, with his dick still spearing me, Abe lifted me gently and carried me to a big bed and sat down right on the edge. I was then riding him, facing him, and I started to move up and down on him a little as I felt I should be, spearing myself on his cock. Aaron said, whoo, there’s a mess over here, referring to the pile of men’s pudding all over the floor and table where I had just been.

The men circled around to watch as Bert put a finger in my backside and reported it was greased up really good. Even so, he put some bacon grease on his hard dick, and then told me to hold still as he pressed it into my bunghole, and the head popped in. It was at this moment that I realized, save Edgar, the two biggest dicks in the field house were spearing me at once. I resolved to ask no more questions that evening.

Bert thrust in further and Abe went up and down a little but mostly held his ground. So much pressure! My thighs started to quiver like sometimes before an ass climax. Bert got a little more leverage and pushed right up against my backside. Feeling these two men cuddle me in between them, especially Abe in the front who I had such strong feelings for, and the pressure and necessary surrender of the situation, the opening, was overwhelming. I wailed out long and ragged as an overwhelming cunny, bunghole, and whole body climax washed over me like a thunderstorm, with lightning hitting my brain. There was whistling from the four men watching this and a comment from Paul that I liked it.

As soon as I was done, both Abe and Bert started moving, and I was right back into a climax where I was panting and shouting out with each breath. Paul shouted, she can’t get enough, do her hard, boys. Then I started squeaking for some reason, another climax. I felt like my brain was running out of sense. It was just so much stimulation, and I couldn’t escape it. All I could feel were those dicks leaving me and then coming back so tight again, mostly one and then the other, but sometimes both together. It was an eternity of them holding me nice while I cried and yelled and my body shuddered, all three of us one beast of forcible pleasure.

Finally Bert cried out, and I felt the hot splash of his seed in my backside. I was surprised and stopped climaxing, losing my rhythm. He pulled out leaving me with Abe. It was awkward sitting on Abe, so I whimpered and begged him to plant me and sow me. He understood and rolled over on top of me on the bed and started pounding me hard. I started shrieking again in climax, being right atop the moon from all the stimulation. He strained and dolloped in me as I shuddered with him.

Aaron said he would feel my throat and called me to him on the bed, so I crawled on my hands and knees on the bed and started to suck him. He felt the thrill, because soon he started stretching and straining and sighing and making little pushing motions with his hips. Paul came up behind me on the bed and poked and slid his member into my bunghole and started working.

It was okay, but I pulled away from Aaron and asked the men please grease up first. Aaron got upset after I pulled away, calling me a bitch dog and other bad names as he forced it again down my throat. He pulled my hair and hurt me, and I started to cry again. Abe scolded Aaron not to pull it and he let go my hair.

Pretty soon, Aaron was back to excited and happy, then he spurted down my throat with a yell, pulled out, spurted again on my face, which surprised me and stung my eyes, and fell back on the bed, declaring my throat the most wild experience. Abe wiped at my face with a bandana, calling Aaron a messy bastard. I could tell by the look between them that Aaron was not going to raise up to Abe for the slight.

Once Abe got my face wiped off, he called me kitten again, and said he would try it, and pushed it in my throat, cutting my air and feeling my throat start dancing its choking dance. At the same time, Paul had been working in my bottom with increasing ferocity, and I was feeling the thrills from it despite Aaron messing my face. So when Abe choked me with his big dick, I shook with a helpless powerful bottom climax. Directly upon feeling it, I think, Paul strained out his climax and put a dollop in me.

As Abe, on his knees on the bed, worked in and out of my mouth and figured out how to let me breathe a little while doing it, somebody with a greased one came up behind and put it in my bunghole. I heard him moan then and knew it was Oswald. After some pumping between them, Abe finished in my throat with a happy groan and backed away, and Oswald pulled from my bunghole, danced over to my mouth, shoved his dick with my stink on it down my throat, and held it there while I choked for a bit. As I really started to fight, he shot and let me go with a laugh. I collapsed and fought to catch my air, curled on the bed.

Others wanted my bunghole, and I was pulled over to the edge of the bed where they could really pound me from a standing position. Abe was watching over me and made them grease up first. Aaron took me in the behind and finished, then Edgar with his long one. Edgar got it all in my bottom I know because I felt his hips slap my backside as he was finishing. It felt weird in there, really stirring my guts, but not enough to sicken me. During this, Bert started again in my throat, and then Abe replaced Edgar in my backside. As Bert was choking his dick down in me with his final push, I climaxed long and hard for Abe pleasuring me in my ass.

They left me curled up on the bed then while they drank and discussed my fate. Abe tried to persuade them to just let me sleep normal, and that he would share his bed with me, but the men said no. Fine, any bed, Abe rejoined. But Paul and Oswald especially argued I would be too inconvenient to fetch all night bed to bed, because all men would want me, and there was a chorus of drunken yesses to that, and there might well be fights from that too, so it would best be orderly and tie me to the pony for the night for the convenience. That way, if another man wanted while a man was having, he could wait orderly as they were used to.

Abe then argued at least I should be covered with the spare blanket so I would not get a chill. The men readily agreed to this compromise with him. Abe then furthermore warned that if he woke in the morning with me uncovered, he would be displeased, and all the men agreed again to attend to this, and then teased Abe for being so sweet on me. Abe rejoined that as they knew the entire household and all their bosses up to the big boss were sweet on me as a matter of fact, so if they hurt me unduly, hell would come down on them like it had John, and this was his concern, but I don’t think anyone was listening to him by then.

I fell asleep on the bed, and woke as Abe carried me off the bed to a low table newly set in the middle of the room. It was as narrow as my shoulders with a straw pad on it. Here he set me on my belly, and my toes barely reached the ground, so he gave me a block to stand on. There were leather bindings for my wrists similar to Franklin’s that tied my arms down, though much gentler than Franklin had, to either side of the table. Then a blanket was thrown over me, and as I could rest there fairly comfortably, I relaxed.

Abe flipped up the back on the blanket, checked my cunny with his finger and spread my wet around a little, and entered me with his cock, which was hard and urgent. He whispered an apology, and said that even handling me as he had, given he liked me so much, made him urgent, and he was sorry. Paul said hey Abe have another drink, and Abe replied no I’m testing out the pony, and there were a few laughs. I’m always ready to go off after I wake, and I like Abe, so pretty soon I howled in climax for him.

Bert said we weren’t going to get any sleep like this. As Abe continued with his pumping, which was delighting me up to a second one, Bert popped a leather ball into my mouth and tied it there firmly with a bandana. It tasted like it had been sitting on the floor. A few minutes later, as Abe spilt his hot seed in me from behind, I bawled out another climax, but futile into the ball. There was laughter, and Bert said, that’s better. Abe pulled out and lowered the blanket back over my backside, letting me drip out onto the block I was standing on.

Soon after it was lights out, and the snoring began. A drunken man is a terrible snorer. I tried to sleep, but there was such a din from the snoring, especially a couple of the men, I don’t know who, that I couldn’t. Eventually, I drifted to sleep, and it seemed immediately the blanket being lifted roused me. It was Paul from his breathing. He checked me and found me wanting, apparently, because he knelt down and started to lick and suck my button. Emma was not wrong about Paul’s way with a nether kiss. He continued this for a while as I melted in bliss and eventually screamed my climax into the ball, which nobody heard over the snoring I’m sure.

After that one, I was wholly Paul’s slave and breeding mare. He slid easily into my cunny and pumped away in me. For a long while as he worked, I cried and shouted climaxes all futile into the ball. The moon set during this, I think, because it got darker. Finally I felt a big warm batch from him slap into me and breed me thoroughly, and I confess I gurgled in such pleasure at it. It was the most sound my mouth could make with that ball in it. After resting up in me a minute and shrinking, he slid out, lowered the blanket, and disappeared.

After a few minutes, I realized I needed to piss badly. I resolved to wait until morning, but it was keeping me awake, even more insistent than the snoring. So finally, I let go of it, and it came out in a big hot flood and kept coming, wetting the back of my blanket and my legs and feet. It was a relief, but also chilly almost immediately.

The snoring lulled, and I drifted off good and sound but of course, as was my fate, awakened immediately by Oswald and Paul together, who commented on the wet but were not slowed down by it. Oswald lifted the by then only slightly damp blanket onto my backside, checked me, and pushed in straightaway, while Paul grabbed my head and made me open my throat to him. They chuckled and whispered a little together as they had me, and climaxed at nearly the same time.

Before I could drift off again, Abe and Bert appeared, Bert at my mouth and Abe in my backside. Abe greased up beforehand and slid in easily. As Bert periodically choked me with his dick, Abe hammered me, and I climaxed helplessly several times as they did this. As I climax repeatedly as I was on this night, it seems to me it comes quicker and quicker and does not slow down in me for hours. So it was not just this, it was Paul’s licking, and it was especially being helplessly bred and used by this paddock of rough men back from the early evening, but now with less fear, since now I was well into my use from them with no ill effects so far.

After he was finished, Abe apologized to me for not letting me piss earlier with the blanket out of the way. He encouraged me to do it more now if I had any in me before he lowered the blanket again. I tried, but I just couldn’t in front of them, even in the dark. Finally, as Bert finished by choking me with his straining and shooting a big load down my throat, they lowered the blanket and left me.

I woke up near dawn when Abe threw the blanket off me and unhooked my wrists. I was terribly stiff and creaky and had gotten almost no rest, so I was dizzy and bleary. He carried me to his bed; I assume it was his bed because it was empty. There he laid me on my back as I groaned from stiffness, and he began to lick and suck my cunny.

Even with my lack of sleep and terrible pain from stiffness, I had his head in my hands tight and was humping and mewing climaxes into the ball in practically no time. The release from painful bondage made the climaxes very, very strong throughout my button, cunny, and body. When he was satisfied, he got hard by cuddling and pushing on me and then had me in my cunny again on my back like nature and God intended, and it was so good to feel like a regular woman again, and we climaxed together at the end. I felt so close to him.

As dawn broke, Paul roused us by sliding into Abe’s bed, saying he had no problem doing it here, and Abe saying fine. Paul then took me in my cunny while Abe continued to kiss and snuggle my breasts. After a while, Paul stopped, and said surely the boys have had enough slumber, and we should remove it. Paul untied the bandana and took out the ball, and my jaw burned in pain and squeaked so bad as it could finally move again.

I thanked them with a croak, and Paul returned to his work in me as Abe finally got to kiss my mouth greedily with his lips and tongue, my mouth still flailing, burning, and creaking. When Paul finished with a soft grunt and another big slapping batch up me, I vibrated in climax, held by Paul’s body and Abe’s mouth on mine, stifling my shout. My tongue stuck straight out rigid into Abe’s mouth.

Paul then left us, letting it pour out my cunny into Abe’s bed. I guess towels were in short supply here. Abe and I dozed, and then awoke when Bert roused the men with a few clangs on a pot and announced that although this was a day of rest for them, they should probably return me pretty soon, as it was already well after sunrise, and did anybody want a final poke at me before they dressed me and gave me back to the household? Every single man eagerly raised his hand. I thought woof! A woman’s work is hard.

Bert announced me popular beyond compare. I felt little consolation from this. Abe carried me back over to the table where it had all started. I was feeling sleepy but not too sore to take them all quickly, I hoped, and I expected it would be quick, because I could see many of them had morning wood already and were rubbing themselves besides in anticipation.

I was already warmed up, because I’d had Abe already this morning and then just a moment ago Paul. I knew what to expect from this line of men, and I also let down a little appreciative wet in anticipation of the big morning batches they would have for me, excepting Abe and Paul of course, who had already contributed theirs. At the head of the line was Oswald, who was already vibrating with excitement.

Being the next bed over, I think he had listened as Abe and then Paul took me. He worked in me for only a short while, panting with excitement, and did not disappoint with either the size or force of his batch at his climax, and the feel of it made me fully wake up the gang by making me shriek out a hearty wail.

Then Bert greased up and took my bunghole, declaring to the boys they should try to save some for next time or there might not be a next time. As he worked, Edgar agreed, and stepped up and slid into my mouth. As Edgar choked me and Bert filled my backside as tight to bursting, I climaxed again and again as I choked, but I think they just thought it was convulsions from no air, because Edgar let up for me to catch breath each time I got into one. I got so frustrated that finally I cried out to him choke me good you bastard! And that time he kept it in while the climax bounced around in me and I lost connection with life.

I awoke with Abe patting my cheeks gently, which hurt like nails hammered into my head because of the bruise from the bedpost. It woke me up, though. I suppose Edgar and Bert had finished in me while I was asleep, and now Aaron was having a turn in my cunny. It felt exciting now that I was awake again, and I howled as I started another climax. The men laughed and said she’s still alive. I guess Aaron had felt my cunny twist, because that’s when he filled me with his big hot yummy morning batch. For my part, I started to worry I was having way too good a time being used hard, and it would probably spell the death of me soon if I did not learn to control myself.

Having Abe and Paul a final time was a nice way to end my stay with the field crew. They were truly both my lovers now, and it was so good to finish this terrifying first time with them. Abe went in my cunny and declared it so good and me so beautiful while Paul took my throat and declared it the top of the world. They had been watching the others and were worked up again, so it didn’t take long. Paul strained and spilled a dollop down my throat. The choking from this and the loving from Abe started a good shaking climax deep in me. As I died slowly and my cunny twisted into knots, Abe let loose, and his seed spread out hot in my cunny as I continued to shake.

After this, Abe and Bert pulled my dress over my head and down me as gently as they could manage. My bloomers were missing, and though everybody poked around for them, they could not be found. After a futile search, Bert led me back over to the main house, the men's handiwork still dripping and running free down my legs, and handed me to Emma, who was rocking and waiting anxiously on the front porch. That marked the end of my ordeal.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 12:38:28 AM by Sweetums »



Offline Sweetums

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Chapter 10: The Dog Yard

Monday, 27 September 1880

It all started when Catherine, Franklin’s wife, came in a hurry to fetch me. She said that the household just found out the field hands had gotten lice, and I needed to come downstairs with her immediately to get a lice bath while they cleaned my room.

I followed Catherine out my door, down the stairs, through the kitchen, where I waved and exchanged greetings with some of my sister wives there, but kept my distance, and they were in the middle of their supper work besides. She took me through and past room after room, each dingier than the last.

I remarked to Catherine that this part of the household looked pretty deserted, and she explained, that’s the best place to do it, where the lice can’t spread, which made some sense to me. We got to a bathroom that looked rusty, broken, and unused, and she asked me to take off my clothes, so I did, thinking we were going to use this place to wash me, though I didn’t see how. After I was naked, she led me through a couple of other rooms and then to an outside door, saying the washtub was just outside and she ushered me through.

I walked out into the middle of a yard enclosed with a high fence, and didn’t see a washtub anywhere. It was dusk with a beautiful moon out, and it was already chilly, so I was really looking around for this tub so I could jump in and get warm. When I turned around to ask Catherine where the tub was, she said to me, it was either me or her, and shut and locked the door. Then I knew it was a trick.

I went and pounded on the door and shouted, but Catherine would not answer, and the door was sturdy. It was then I noticed two big dogs had gotten up and were ambling towards me, tongues lolling. I know dogs, and these looked friendly and peaceful enough, but I strongly suspected that these were some dogs trained to rape girls. I looked for other doors or low windows into the house, and there were none. There were a few overlooking the yard higher up. I saw Franklin at one of them, soon joined by his wife. The fence looked high and sturdy. There was nothing to climb up on. Franklin!

The dogs came up to me and growled a little. I could see their dicks were starting to unsheathe. They were acting towards me like I was a bitch in heat, but I was not presenting proper. I am confident with all aspects of farm dogs, training farm dogs, and breeding farm dogs from my past years on my family’s farm. So, even though these dogs had been trained unusually, I wasn’t too worried.

I didn’t know the dog’s names, so I decided to call the black one “Blackie” and the brown one “Brownie.” I scratched them both behind the ears and called them by their new names. They loved it. These dogs had seen very little affection in their lives, and I expect every naked girl they had encountered before me had run away shrieking and terrified. Run away, of course, until they gave chase, cornered the girl, and did what they were trained to do to her.

Instead, I got down in the dirt with them and gave them some good scratches. I wrestled them each individually into a subservience position, and they were happy to acknowledge me as their new pack leader in exchange for some more scratches and words of praise. I just played and had fun with them after that, expecting rescue from Emma any moment.

Here were some dogs who had been mistreated, in my mind, as I was being mistreated right now, so we three were natural allies. I threw them things and they chased them. We ran around happily for a long happy while as darkness fell and the brilliant stars came out, all of us naked as the day we were born. I was getting thoroughly coated in dust and dirt, and laughed to myself what Emma would think when she found me, and I knew she must be looking for me by now for some time.

As I was cuddled up in a cozy corner of the yard with Brownie and Blackie awaiting my eventual rescue, Franklin storms out into the yard, with the door shut behind him by Catherine. He held a pistol. He told me I was doing it wrong, and that I should be breeding with the dogs right now. I responded that it seemed they’d rather live a normal life breeding bitches like him, and Franklin grew angrier and pointed the gun at me.

He directed me over to a ragged thing affixed to the ground that looked kind of like the field hands’ pony, but lower. It was a very low table with a ragged straw pad on it and leather straps. He told me get on it and then put one boot painfully on my back as he strapped my wrists down on either side. Then he said, now let’s see how you do, spun on his heel, and left through the door once again open and shut by Catherine.

During this time, Brownie and Blackie had been whimpering and growling at Franklin. They clearly didn’t like him, but were also afraid of him, so they stayed out of his way until he was gone. Good thing, since I did not want to be the cause of an innocent dog being shot. My wrists were now low to the ground, and I could rest on my hands, or lower my chest slightly more onto a straw pad if I wanted to rest my arms. The back portion of the harness I was in forced my backside to stay on my knees in the dust.

Once Franklin was gone, Brownie and Blackie came up to me curiously. They had been trained using this infernal thing, and it doubtless had many associations for them that were not good associations from my standpoint. Brownie sniffed my cunny and gave it an experimental lick. I kept my composure and ordered him to come over and look at me, which he did. I told him eye to eye that I didn’t want any of that funny business from him. He looked embarrassed and devastated he had transgressed. I gave Blackie the same stern talk, and they both understood me well, being smart dogs in my new pack, and that was that.

They lay down beside me on either side, warming my shins and feet greatly, for the temperature was dropping fast. The rest of me was ice cold. I hoped Emma would find me soon. We rested there together the three of us and fell asleep.

I woke up colder than I had ever been in my entire life. My teeth were chattering fiercely, I was shivering with every muscle in my body. I was sleepy and could barely think. My fingers were numb, though I could at least still move them. Emma had still not found me, and I was literally dying from the cold out there. I had to think of something.

I weighed my options, and perhaps I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I figured for a start I’d better let one or both of these dogs do what they were trained to do: cover me.

I started to whimper softly like a bitch in heat does and shake my ass like it. Both dogs woke up instantly and started to trot around, waking up. Blackie was the more dominant dog, apparently, because Brownie looked deferential in in the growling contest of which of them would do it to me, or at least, which of them would do it first.

Then Blackie’s warm tongue started to lick my cunny. Blackie was a natural cunny licker. He licked me enthusiastically from button to bunghole, his tongue venturing deep and extensively into my cunny in between. Brownie put his paws and body on me from the side, I think trying to warm me up, and it was welcome. I couldn’t see Blackie working behind me, but I saw that Brownie had fully unsheathed, and his dick was as big as I remember for a farm dog his size, which is almost as long as Edgar the field hand, and a little thicker, but coming to more of a narrow tip.

Soon I went from shivering with cold to shaking with excitement as Brownie lay across my back to warm me and Blackie worked his magical tongue all on and in my nethers. I confess that I now believe a well-trained dog is better at licking the nethers than any man or woman could ever be. It’s that long tongue that reaches absolutely everywhere down there and gives it a special and enthusiastic tickle besides.

By this time, I was having many small climaxes on Blackie’s tongue. I was trying to keep the communication clear between us by making the whimpering sounds a bitch dog makes when she climaxes and the whimpering sounds she makes when she wants to be mounted, because, God forgive me, I wanted to be mounted. I’d like to think it was partly the cold, but Brownie had already mostly taken care of that for me pretty good, at least as well as Blackie would by having me. It was the licking.

Also, these dogs were trained to it, and given how far I had already provoked them in search of warmth, it would be terribly cruel to deny them. There might be violence. Speaking my bitch dog language of whimpers to them, I insisted and begged Blackie to mount me. Brownie backed off me, and I felt Blackie’s paws on my back.

These dogs were well-trained for this work, because Blackie got it up my cunny first try, and bitches have a different arrangement than humans. The path was slick with my wet, and his dribbling wet added to it and made the path very slick. On the first thrust he rammed it up very far into me, knocking my breath out a bit, then immediately started working in me like a very excited battering ram.

He started whimpering with pleasure at every stroke. He liked his bitch! I’d seen dogs be kind of uninterested during breeding, so I felt both proud and very strange to be the object of some very intense affection from Blackie like this. I suppose it made sense, because they’d probably been dreaming of this and controlling themselves like good dogs since I had appeared naked in their yard hours ago.

My response to Blackie’s taking of me was a fairly immediate loud wail of a climax. Brownie actually startled a bit at the sound of it, but Blackie didn’t miss a stroke, apparently well aware of his effect on women. With every stroke I whimpered at the intense pleasure of it, and then after a whirlwind of whimpering strokes loved me up as much as I could hold in me, I would wail out another big loud one.

After about five or six of these wailing climaxes, I felt Blackie start working his knot into me deeper with every stroke. It was also growing in size with every stroke, so I whimpered pleadingly for him to lodge it, because I had seen bitches wrecked when a powerful male thrusts a great big knot into them at the last minute because he hadn’t taken care of it earlier. There could be blood.

My worry passed as Blackie’s knot lodged tight inside my hole and kept expanding. And expanding! I climaxed from the incredible feel of it. And then he unleashed his hot, hot flood in me, far hotter than any man. It filled every corner in me to bursting, and I could feel it squirting out a little around the knot, all over my legs and all over Blackie, no doubt. You know I love a good insemination, and this one was so far beyond the best feeling I’d ever had. I crowed in climax, drew in another big breath and howled at the top of my lungs, and was still climaxing, another breath, this time a low moan out, still climaxing. From there as I relaxed and stilled more ragged whimpers, close to climaxing, climaxing more, resting, climaxing again, from still the incredible heat and the incredible batch and the incredible fulfilling big knot in my cunny.

Blackie was in there forever, and about halfway through, he turned around to face the other way, and I whimpered part in pain when he tested the knot, whimpered asking him to still, and he did. I went back to breathing and climaxing.

After a time, I started shivering. Blackie pulled gently and popped himself out then and lay down beside me while Brownie started to lick all the puppy juice out of my sloppy cunny.

I was so tired of climaxing, but Brownie’s tongue worked its magic regardless of what I wanted, and I started shaking and climaxing helplessly for him. I was mortally afraid by then that another breeding by them would truly wreck me, especially since my parts had done such hard labor all the previous night. I could feel my cunny was sore. I was worried.

As expected, though I did not encourage, Brownie hopped up on me. He missed, I thought, and poked a little into my bunghole. I was about to shake my ass to dislodge him when he squirted a nice little dab of his wet into my bunghole, and with this added lubrication, rammed his giant dick home into my bunghole. He was bigger than Blackie, so this explained the conversation they’d had between them earlier.

He started whimpering in pleasure and pumping as enthusiastically as Blackie had. The sensations weren’t as intense as in my cunny, but I felt them all over my body, and I started smiling a great big happy smile that Brownie had picked my still reasonably serviceable back hole. These dogs were not dumb, and my cunny was gathering itself, but definitely still felt like you could drive a wagon through it. If I was a male, I know which hole I would have picked to have my pleasure in.

As apparently males of either species are wont to do to me, as Brownie continued in my bunghole, I began to feel the thrills of impending climax. As I felt Brownie’s knot grow and begin to press on my bunghole, I let loose a howl of a full body climax to wake the dead, shivering and shaking with countless aftershocks as Brownie continued to take me.

Then Brownie strained, but could not get his knot in, and splashed a lake full of steaming hot puppy juice into me. It made me so warm. After resting there a few minutes, he pulled out of me, and I could see the steam rise past me from all the puppy juice splashed on the ground.

At that moment, Emma burst into the yard, the door held by Sarah. The dogs whimpered and strove to protect me, but sat gentle and confident as I calmed them and told them they were good. Emma had me out of the wrist bindings in a few moments. After saying goodbye to each of the dogs and promising my return, I left them in their yard.

Emma was shocked by my conduct towards the dogs, but once I told her the entire story, she understood they were friends and they hadn’t been bad dogs with me because I ordered them to for warmth. I was shivering up a storm for a while after she got me in. My hands and feet hurt terribly in the warm bath. No permanent injury or sickness befell me, thankfully.

For Emma's part, she was decieved by Catherine as well, who had the duty pleasuring the field hands that evening. She told Emma that she had gotten permission for Emma to replace her with the field hands if she could go immediately. Catherine also promised to let me know in her stead so she could leave without needing to find me and tell me. Emma had in fact even seen us walking together and talking before she left the house, so she had felt assured all was in order.

The plot was uncovered when Sarah, Willard's second wife, looked for Emma to resolve an issue that had arisen between James and Charles. When she started asking questions, Emma was fetched away from the field house, and Catherine's and Franklin's deceptions began to unravel. It was all Franklin's doing, really, since Catherine could not disobey him else suffer terrible punishment.

Because of this incident, I will get an extra day off to spend with Emma tonight. I was also invited to witness Franklin’s punishment for abducting me at gunpoint and stranding me naked outside in the cold where I could have died. He will be taken to the dog yard, where both dogs will have him twice in the bunghole for a total of four times. All the men of the household will bear witness, as will I, if I choose to. I declined, having no interest in seeing any man mistreated so, and the dogs as well, if you think of it.

After Emma revived me by warming me up in a bath, we still got to spend the night together. Of course, both her holes had been wrecked for the evening from serving the field hands. Even though they only had her a few hours, they had been especially enthusiastic to see her, which had been flattering and also a little frightening. She was glad Sarah had intervened. For my part, both my holes had been wrecked for the evening by the dogs. Both our buttons, however, were in wonderful health!

Emma was well rested, and I didn’t need much sleep, so we spent our first night together mostly awake talking, cuddling, and kissing a lot of the time. I was wearing two pairs of long socks to keep extra warm, and so did she, and I periodically turned myself around in the bed and presented her my button to kiss while I kissed hers.  The long socks kept our legs warm during this. The whole of the night into morning was truly wonderful and loving. It was the first loving I’d done that had no urgency to it; it was eternal, in a sense, and also never ending. It was so special between us that night, and our love just grew from there.
« Last Edit: May 07, 2020, 04:06:52 AM by Sweetums »



Offline Sweetums

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Chapter 11: Free-for-All

Tuesday, 28 September 1880

Yesterday, they took Franklin to his punishment in the dog yard. They stripped him bare and threw him out for the dogs. I heard the description from Emma, who watched from the high window with the men. As the dogs approached, he screamed like a girl and ran from them. They chased him down and cornered him easily, knocked him down and forced him to present to them. At first mount, Blackie knocked him painfully in his stones, thinking him a girl, and he curled up retching from this. As he was down on his side Brownie buggered him, I learned that word new from Emma.

Then an odd thing happened. As Brownie was buggering Franklin, Franklin convulsed in climax, and his little mushroom shot out some spunk into the dust in front of him. Blackie got interested in Franklin’s little mushroom and started licking it as Brownie continued to bugger away. As Brownie drove his knot into Franklin’s bunghole, Franklin convulsed and spunked again as Blackie kept licking him.

This punishment continued for hours, since each knotting alone lasted about half of an hour. As Blackie followed Brownie in Franklin’s bunghole, Brownie took over licking Franklin’s mushroom. After that knotting was done, Brownie had Franklin’s now bloody bunghole again. Emma could distinctly see Brownie’s bloody knot as the dog tore it out of Franklin much too early the second time, prompted by Franklin’s kicks and high-pitched shrieks of pain. Needless to say, Franklin wasn’t spunking any more by then. After each dog had had him twice, him trying to escape more weakly each time, Willard fetched him out of the yard. He was very sick and sobbing by then, with bloody puppy juice running freely out of his wide open bunghole. Willard gave him over to Catherine’s care.

Although it was another off night for me by his own declaration, Willard still visited me to talk for an hour or so. He assured me that he was anxious to have me again in the marriage bed, and figured he normally would on Mondays, but didn’t want it to be painful on me ever. For stealing his night of me, he assured me he’d made the punishment extra vicious for Franklin, which I already knew from Emma’s account. Willard continued that he had not even let Franklin’s wife Catherine grease him up beforehand, and that furthermore Franklin had deserved every minute of his punishment. The way he said it made my blood run cold.

That subject out of the way, Willard wanted his mortifying heifer report of me from where he’d left off before. I didn’t resist him, but throughout the ordeal, I felt like a worthless disgusting whore, but worse than that, a bitch dog, a goat in the yard.

Yes sir, I reported, the entire household save Franklin put their seed up my cunny, and all the field hands put their seed up my cunny. Yes sir, I reported, the entire household save Franklin made me climax loud, and all the field hands made me climax loud (though sometimes with a ball in my mouth to muffle it, which he assured me still counted). Willard said he thought he’d heard me scream for Franklin, and I answered that it was from him snapping a towel hard and directly on my cunny. Willard’s lips thinned in anger. Then he told me he heard I had not made noise with George. I told him that was because George choked me. Then he asked did I climax for him anyway, and I said yes, like I already said. Then he asked me did I climax hard like I would have shouted if I could have. I said yes, like I already said. Willard then told me not to back talk him.

It continued. Yes sir, George and Franklin in the household as well as all the field hands had me in the bunghole. Sir only George of the household made me climax there, and Bert, Abe, and Paul did it to me in the field house. Yes sir, all the men had my mouth. Sir, Charles, George, and Franklin of the household finished there. All the field hands finished there at least once.

After this wholly disgusting and embarrassing conversation, Willard talked to me about my schedule. Willard said the schedule is about me being bred successfully by the men, which my report would suggest favors George over James, but Willard did not favor George just now, so he would give me to James instead. The others would be himself of course, Richard, William, and Charles, and the field house on Saturday night would make six nights, Sunday being my night of rest.

Normally a new wife would not be given to the field house very often soon after her first time there, not for months or perhaps years, unless she was not producing otherwise, of course. However, since Emma had assessed for Willard they had not wounded me too badly, and since by my own mortified account all had managed to breed me very ably with a minimum of terrified cries and a modicum of climaxes, Willard decided he must not hold me back from the duty as was customary.

He especially needed a wife who could perform the hardest duty of Saturday night without being wholly terrorized by it. The other wives had not been reasonably able to endure this save Philinda, our wife number eight counting Phebe, and Patricia, James’s wife, both of whom were nearly thirty and tired after years of service on this difficult night. Furthermore, Philinda had a little one to care for that excluded her just now, and he’d rather not require Patricia to do it at the moment for reasons he did not want to explain to me. He said it would be very inconvenient for me to not endure this for the time being, and he ordered me not to get hurt by them and to enjoy myself as best I could besides. I answered him obediently yes sir. There was no reason to make matters worse with him by arguing.

Then he told me that some gentlemen from the surrounding farms, esteemed owners or sons of owners all, would start calling on our household soon to bring wedding gifts, make good on our commerce with their farms, pay their respects, and to meet me of course. Regarding this new temporary duty, he said he trusted me to make myself available to entertain these visitors in the coming weeks. Not wishing to read anything more into these visits than was evident in his statement, but suspecting the worst, since he had troubled to warn me about it, I responded yes, I would serve them tea. He just smiled at this and didn’t talk about it further.

Emma felt completely healthy last night, and I was in a playful mood. I demanded it was my turn to prepare her, since she had prepared me so often. I said I would practice to prepare her next visit to the field crew, because I knew that was a tickle for her, and sure enough, she started talking about how forceful they were the few hours they got their hands on her the previous night as I was trapped with the dogs. She told how frightened she became about how long would they do it to her, with her being more fragile at her age, and yet how it had made her feel alive, like a young wife, not knowing any more whether new extremities of pleasure or pain lay ahead of her.

We started by giving Emma a good washing out in her bottom, three chamber pots full. Then I went to work with one, then two, then three fingers. We kissed passionately during most of this, but even so, although it was intimate, I could see it wasn’t giving her the same joy it did to me. I didn’t linger on it long when I found this out.

Next was greasing up her cunny, which I knew from touching and licking her before that she would enjoy. Her being full grown and me still a tiny girl with tiny fingers, I started her out with three fingers, and she liked that okay, and started getting excited. I added so that I had all four of my fingers in and out, and she said good, and was excited by having the width of my whole tiny hand like that.

I stopped for a moment to grease up my whole hand. Then I slowly rocked it back into her up to my knuckles with my thumb in my palm, and had her like this for a while. I now appreciate more why men like to pleasure a woman with their dicks so much. The excited sounds girls make as it’s going in and out, the faces they make are different than just rubbing their button. I suppose it’s in a girl’s nature to be bred for sure, even if they are with a girl.

As Emma’s excitement increased, I pressed in my hand harder and harder until my whole hand popped into her. I immediately asked her was she okay, but she just panted and panted, too near her climax I guessed to articulate anything. For myself, I immediately thought, how was I ever going to get my hand out, and had a vision of being wheeled behind Emma in a wheelbarrow, my hand permanently stuck in her cunny.

I started to ease my fingers around, seeing if there was any way I could carefully get my hand back. Emma then made noise in her climax, a lot of noise, and I could hear it was the noise of her having great pleasure of it, and I could feel her cunny muscles thrum and squirm around my hand as she was doing it.

I remember how pleasurable the knot had been for me, and I also thought I could maybe create some more room to get my hand out, so I slowly balled my hand into a fist. As I did this, Emma’s eyes rolled back, and she groaned and shook out an even bigger climax than before. After this one was over and she had relaxed some, I was able to slide my hand out with only a little pain for her. As my hand popped out of her, she sprayed a little pee out with it.

Although Emma reported after that her cunny felt very well-used, we don’t think there will be any ill effects from my whole hand being in there. I look forward next week to greasing up my whole arm. When I said this, she threatened to do with me, but I laughed at that, knowing her hand would never fit in me past the three fingers she had already used. After that, we slept blissfully all night in each other's arms.

As of yesterday morning, I was invited to breakfast downstairs. This morning, my second time among them, something surprising happened that I must recount. All the adult family members were gathered around the main table as usual, with all the children and a few of the wives attending them in the adjoining room. Willard rose from the head of the table and closed and bolted the door to the children’s room, leaving us all closed up in the dining hall, light streaming in the windows from outside.

Then he called me to him and put his hand on my shoulder, addressing the crowd. It started off all fine, him saying that even though I was kind, gentle, and loving, nobody could deny I was the best among them and also surpassingly beautiful, I had also been horribly abused my very first days here. He lifted my hair and showed the bruise from the bedpost, and there were grumbles from the men, and clucking and cooing from the women. Then he ripped the front of my dress, exposing my breasts, and tore off the dressing there to expose the cigar burn. This was a great shock to me, and tears of embarrassment sprang to my eyes from being exposed so before the whole household. The men grumbled again, and from the women there were expressions of both disgust and calls from the bolder ones that it was unseemly for him to expose my breasts as he had.

Ignoring them, he continued by saying he knew that rumors were flying around the household that he favored me in an inappropriate way, and that as a result his leadership of the farm perhaps might not be trustworthy in every detail any more. He wanted to put those rumors to rest, he said. With that, he bent me at the waist so my torn dress and bare breasts messed on his breakfast plate and other leavings. There was an indrawn breath from most all assembled, for everyone suspected what was to happen. He fussed with his breeches, flipped up the back of my skirt, tore my bloomers, and speared my cunny roughly. I gritted my teeth. Luckily, I am almost always near ready for a man, so it was bearable within a few strokes other than the mortifying humiliation of it.

As he had me there on the table and I started to sob in shame, the household was aghast, especially the women. He continued by saying he was in complete control of this household, and everyone in it. He said everyone, including me, was doing his bidding. He said if anyone doubted this, they had better discuss it with him direct, so he could set them straight. If he heard about any more rumors, matters would be worse for the parties involved. He asked if there was any question. It was silent in the room for a time other than his excited breathing and the clattering from his hips banging my hips more and more forcefully into the table as he got closer. Then he spunked in me, and God help me, I groaned out a climax then in front of all assembled.

As Willard let me up, buttoning himself, I saw through my tears that the men still watched silently, some of them helplessly, while the women looked upon me uniformly with disgust. I gathered my torn dress over my gravy-smeared breasts and ran hysterical out of the room, struggling with the bolt on the way out, leaving drippings of gravy and spunk behind me at the doorway. I took a bath, hid in Emma's and my room, and wrote in this journal until Emma came to see me later.

She said she had taken many of our sister wives aside after the incident and called for them to embrace my situation with compassion rather than looking down on me as loose. She argued they knew me to be extremely hot-blooded already from my well-engendered howls and shouts in the house at all hours. She argued that I had not had our husband since my wedding night, and not last night either because of the sabotage against me, so I had clearly already been pining for him fierce. It only made sense that in this horrific display for which Willard alone was responsible, I would succumb to my deep love for Willard and given by my hot nature open fully to his seed, and I should not be judged badly for it. She argued that it was good for the family that my love for him was so strong, and it was good for all the wives that, because of my hot nature and beauty, Willard and the rest of them would be bothering me all the time while they got their work done promptly and their restful sleep, and they should be grateful for it.

Emma believed the wives would forgive me this once, but they would be watching and quick to judge if I showed any further evidence of a libertine nature or other ungodliness. Emma explained to me that most wives were holding on to their sanity by a thread given the awful ungodliness they themselves had to endure day to day behind closed doors, so they would show no mercy towards me if they could find their way to condemning me for the sake of feeling themselves a little cleaner in their souls by doing so.

Wednesday, 29 September 1880

Late yesterday afternoon, my latest new worst imagining came true. The first caller arrived from a nearby farm. He was an owner and an elder by the name of Jabot Hedley. He was ancient to the point of barely still even being alive. He stooped over, and had a complexion that was gray and pallid, with more wrinkles than facial features. His relationship with Willard was close, apparently, though Willard did not come down to see him. Instead, Emma and I sat and listened to him attentively as he bragged very slowly and softly about the value of his wedding present, which was ironically a prize heifer.

In a few minutes Emma agreed, yes, yes, a worthy wedding gift, especially considering the tracts of land he had recently exchanged with Willard. She then led us to a nearby ground floor room I had never noticed or seen before that was only large enough for a small bed and a washstand, and left us there, closing the door. My heart sank. In the next week or so, I was to become all too familiar with this room and its function.

Lying there sobbing with my legs spread, this ancient skeleton of a man wheezing awfully and slowly pumping away with his half shriveled dick in my cunny, the bedsprings squeaking softly, I carefully weighed and considered my lot in life. Were I an actual whore, I would be happier, given I would at least be able to keep for my own and spend some portion of the profits from the sale of my body. The ancient geezer’s best effort went slowly on and on like the ticking of a grandfather clock, and I was nearly fast asleep when he halted suddenly, shuddered once, and relaxed on me with total exhaustion. Luckily he was light as to be practically insubstantial, and mostly made of dust, I figured, though he stank slightly of death.

A few minutes later, he roused and said I was the sweetest, most innocent, and most beautiful cunt he’d had in his long life, and he could now die happy given that he had now touched heaven, or at least heaven on Earth. He went on that he had not been disturbed by my crying, and in fact took it as a sign of my innocent and godly nature, and told me to hold on to it tightly, that I deserved it more than anyone. It turned out he was terribly eloquent in an aftermath for being a shriveled ancient old shit of a man.

He then made a point of telling me that he didn’t think of me as a whore, and that in fact I was not a whore, not like I had asked him for a judgment. Most things are better not denied, since in the denial itself is the veracity of the matter. It seems to me men are as awful with such things as coyotes are awful with lice. He then carefully rolled off me so as not to break himself, did up his breeches, examined himself in the mirror, and finding no disarray beyond the usual, slowly ambled out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Since I had duties of attending to these visitors whenever they called, I could not be elbow deep in a cow turning a calf or shoveling out the pig pen when they arrived. I had to remain presentable. So instead of being able to work outdoors with the animals I love, I instead have to stay indoors presently, stay spotless, and dust and sweep.

My life is not all woe, though, for Richard had me of the evening, and whisked me off to the magical normal place of his homestead, where delightful children danced off to bed, and where nobody did anything they didn’t love to do. When we arrived, Richard ran to rile up the kids, a major function of fathers before bedtime I suppose, while Deirdre and I had a private moment at the door, reveling that we three would see each other regular weekly, and gave each other a deep, soul pulling suckling tongue kiss that promised to each other more pleasure than was possible was waiting in our immediate future.

Arm in arm, we watched Richard tickle first Marta and then Benny. I remarked to her that although Richard was such an able leader, he seemed so much at times

Wednesday, 29 September 1880 (later)

Dear Journal, I apologize for interrupting my pleasant account of my night with Richard and Deirdre, but I was interrupted by the urgency of a caller I had to attend to with Emma, a father and son who both had me, despite Emma’s requirement the son only watch. I was glad of the son, as it happened, since the father was a terrible goblin who left me cold.

My visitors were Monte Richter and his two sons Alfie, who is my age, and Bean, which I’m sure is a nickname, a few years younger. Monte was a man of about forty with coal black eyes and a light brown hair and beard, getting gray. He was muscular, and not entirely bad looking. He was polite enough in public, but the stuff of nightmares in private, as I will recount. Obviously, with these sons, he had his own wife or wives, but still, here he was to come and call on me. I wondered if his wives knew about it. I’d have to remember to visit them when I got a chance to and describe his distinguishing features innocently to them, swearing them to secrecy.

As his sons sat quietly, the father regaled us with the marvels of irrigation he’d performed with Richard to benefit both our properties, and mentioned also the passel of squeakers he’d brought for the wedding present part. Emma pronounced him worthy, and stood up to lead us to the room.

Monte bid his sons follow, but Emma stopped him, saying the "private conversation" was not seemly for children to attend. Monte argued that Alfie at least was marriage age, and Bean only a few years younger, a trifle. At the conclusion of the negotiation that followed, it was decided that Alfie would accompany his father, but only to watch, Emma stressed, and Bean would go play with the household children until the men were ready to take their leave of me.

With that, Monte and his eldest son Alfie crowded into the room with me, and Emma shut the door on us. The father proceeded to instruct his son Alfie on “How to get your pleasure of a girl and put a baby in her belly.” Whenever Alfie answered, he would call his father daddy. Alfie's daddy told me to get on my knees and called me cunt, and told Alfie that in private he should always call girls proper by their function: cunt. It helped the cunt prepare to take the man he explained, and also reminded them to be extra obedient. Then the daddy asked me if that was correct and made me by his look answer yes, because I didn’t want to get hit.

As the daddy was unbuttoning his trousers in front of my face, he told Alfie how important it was to train girls to be properly subservient for their own good. He asked me my wedding day. I answered the 17th, and he told Alfie that for example this girl was only 12 days from a virgin, but it doesn’t take much time to train up a girl if you do it right. The daddy told me to get it hard, and I dutifully took his limp member into my mouth. It only took a dozen or so strokes up and down it before it was fully hard and I backed away.

He ordered me remove my clothes and get on the bed. I rose from my knees as he pawed me, removed my dress as he bothered me and knocked me off balance once, and hung up my dress and bloomers. I got on the bed and presented my bunghole to them. The daddy laughed and said they must really like the back door in this household because this cunt was showing it instead of her actual cunt as a normal Christian girl would. He stuck his finger in my bunghole and told his son this one had been all greased up and prepared too, which was neighborly. He told Alfie he would teach him how to use that some other time, then pushed into my cunt from behind and started pumping.

The daddy told Alfie to get up onto the bed so he could see. The young man did, and came into my view. He looked very bothered. The daddy then started to tease up his son, in my opinion. He said isn’t she pretty? Alfie answered yes, daddy. You like her little titties? Yes, daddy. Touch them. That’s right. I wasn’t about to object, despite what Emma had said. She wasn’t here to take the hurt if I disobeyed.

Put your fingers in her mouth. Is your wee-wee stiff? Yes, daddy. Put your wee-wee in there, son. Yes, the cunt will like it, won’t you cunt? Give him your mouth, cunt. A very excited Alfie shakingly slid his iron-hard wee-wee into my mouth. It was a pretty good size for his age, despite their pet name for it. The daddy left me cold, but having this innocent boy my own age shakingly excited in my mouth was doing its work on me.

As his daddy took his pleasure back there, he naturally pushed me forward onto Alfie’s dick, and I started to really feel Alfie’s excitement from my mouth radiate throughout me. Alfie then held my head lovingly but excitedly, strained, and launched squirt after squirt down my throat, accompanied by a whimper followed by a groan. Monte praised the boy for spunking in my throat, and asked me if it was tasty, cunt. I said yes, sir. It actually had been, though the daddy still pumping in me was still a worthless mollusk of a man who left me cold.

Monte strained and shot a few squirts of warm seed into me, and God forgive me, I would have climaxed then but for my fear and feeling so vulnerable, that’s how far the son’s excitement had worked me up. Monte slid out almost immediately.

Then he noticed Alfie was still hard as nails, which I already had. I had been using it for inspiration through this nightmare and wishing he would put it back in my mouth. The daddy ordered me onto my back and to present my cunny to Alfie, which I did with barely restrained excitement. Alfie was also excited when his daddy offered me, and fell onto me with gusto, bonking my head, which hurt like knives because of the bruise from the bedpost. I yelped, and the daddy told Alfie to be more careful.

Being a very excited young man on perhaps his first girl, Alife got into me on pure instinct within a few moments and stretched his way into me, and made a sound of such bliss in my ear, I practically climaxed to hear it. It made me literally shake with excitement. He started pumping on pure instinct, like Blackie or Brownie had, and the excitement got to me immediately and I made a big howling bursting climax and my legs shook.

The worthless daddy looked on incredulous at his son’s effect on me, I could see, when I glanced at him. So much for your worthless dick, daddy. Alfie, deep in excitement, didn’t slow down a bit, which was perfect. Alfie had both his hands locked on my ass by this time and started making “huh! huh! huh!” sounds in my ear as he got close, and I whimpered along with him, aflame with his excitement. With a final “HUH!” he strained and shot his seed hard and hot into me, four good pumps, as I gurgled a satisfied climax into his ear. We rested together thoroughly in bliss for a moment.

By this time, the daddy was hard again, so he pushed his son off me roughly, climbed between my legs, and covered me while the son stood on the bed and watched, still hard, and a little miffed. This time, already excited so, I confess I climaxed as the daddy finished, but it was really mostly left over excitement for Alfie combined with my weakness for a batch up me. I shouted Alfie’s name as I did it so he would know I did it for him. Then the son was still hard and ready to go, of course, convinced his daddy off me, and had me again. I then climaxed for Alfie wetly, thoroughly, and with enormous enjoyment a total of four times: once when he had just excitedly wiggled himself back into me, twice during, and again at the end. This is when I learned how much I like to sexually humiliate worthless, boorish men. I love it!

As daddy and son silently buttoned after and left, Alfie taking a wistful look back at me, still naked on the bed, as he shut the door. I hoped I had not caused trouble for him with my impish nature, but expected that regardless it had been worth it for him, so that’s what mattered. I rose slowly and went to bathe and wash out my cunny for the next visitor.

Thursday, 30 September 1880

Later yesterday afternoon, there were two more callers. The first was waiting when I returned from washing up. He was rebuffed when Emma deemed the entirety of his contributions to the farm unworthy of my time, to put it delicately.

Another caller for me arrived in the mid-afternoon. His name was Victor something, and he was a fairly ugly man of 30 years or so, somebody’s son. He brought us some china and had done something about planting I did not really follow, nor did I care to. Emma deemed him worthy and led us to the room. He put me on the bed, took off my bloomers, spread my legs, and looked at me excitedly as he unbuttoned his trousers. I wondered whether he had a wife. Once he had freed his cock, which was reasonably hard, he climbed on me, trousers and all, and pushed in.

He didn’t have a terrible dick, and he was younger than some, but I felt nothing as he pumped in me. I expected to feel something, but I really felt nothing. I suppose I was just overwhelmed by the whole matter of having strangers now appearing at the door and having me pretty much any time they wished to. He finished with some passion and fine spurting, but I was unmoved. He got up, buttoned, and removed himself as some of his seed, mixed with Alfie’s and his daddy’s seed, no doubt, ran out on the bed. I grabbed the towel from the washstand and wiped up the mess and held it to my cunny while I relaxed a few minutes before going upstairs to get ready again.

Last night was William’s night, and he called on me in the room I share with Emma. Despite my joy at having a time with him again and the future times it promised, I was at the moment not the playful joking girl I’d been with him a week and a day ago. I shared with him my latest pain and embarrassment of being whored out to the nearby farms in exchange for heifers and the like. I told him about my episode with Victor whomever, and that I felt nothing during, and that I feared that all my joy and sensation had been pumped out of me now by this latest abomination served to me. I felt broken now and I had no more in me to endure with.

He reassured me as Richard and Deirdre had that these visits were fleeting and would be done at the end of the week. He also promised me there were good ones among them, men he knew I would admire and like because he did. But he understood how cold a comfort that was with me at the end of my rope. Please come meet my wife and children, he begged. I brightened up, thinking of Deirdre and hers. I said, that’s what I need, and in a few minutes it seemed, we were off to his homestead.

William’s wife Sandra, he called her Sand, and his two little daughters Megan and Auburn, were delightful. After the kids were tucked in, I told Sand and William about the latest visits, and we all three had tears together, and Sand said she felt guilty for what I had to endure and what William protected her from, and how could a man do that to his own wife, and so forth.

I asked her to stop, because it was just getting me worked up, and I really couldn’t endure it. William apologized to Sand that we had frightened her. I told them I just wanted to feel normal, and Sand should talk about how the daughters were growing, and also if they had whiskey, they should pour me a big one. Sand said they did have it, and got out the bottle from behind things in the cupboard, and poured herself and William a thimbleful, and got out a normal-sized glass and slopped me out a sizable one. Then she talked about the funny games her girls made up. We laughed together. I started feeling better.

I asked Sand how she felt about William being put to work most nights fertilizing the wives of the household. She said it didn’t bother her too much, because she saw them as sister wives since for now William only had her. She said she knew I was a special one for William, because he couldn’t shut up about me after our first night together. As she was talking, I was hoping that Sand would be like Deirdre and invite me into their bed. She was a quite striking and intelligent woman, I found her so, and so I was attracted, and started wondering as the whiskey worked on me what her cries might be like.

I got sloppy and silly, and William said, that’s the Athalia I know, and I said what, drunk and dizzy? I tried to say in my most serious voice that we still had work to do that night, William Smith, to try to put a baby in me, and that he must spunk in me, and I must climax multiple times, or Willard might replace him for George, because Willard asks these questions, and I didn’t want to remember a bunch of lies, so what were we to do? Sand remarked that it was grisly that Willard was asking me such questions. I replied he has so far, and I hope he will stop.

William said this was a promising development, because earlier I had wanted to curl up and die, and now I was proposing salacious things. Then I said I hadn’t even started, because my brain was unstoppered by this whisky, and I really wanted to know what kinds of sounds Sand made during her pleasure. Sand blushed deeply, and asked me back what sounds did I make? I was about to let out a howl to demonstrate, but William covered my mouth and bade me remember the children were asleep. I told Sand I’d have to bite a pillow to show her.

I then came out bluntly and asked her whether we three could visit their bed together, please? Sand told me she had never shared her bed with a sister wife. She thought it would upset her to see William make love to another woman, doing to the other woman any of the things he did to her. She realized the need for William to get it done, though, and she didn’t want us to go away to the main house to do it, so she asked William and me to go do it in their bed, and then I should come out, and she would set me out on a cot in the kitchen, and then go to sleep with her husband.

William undressed himself and undressed me in his bed, and found me to be sopping wet, as we had all been speaking of salacious things that got me worked up. He wanted to taste me, because he hadn’t yet. I was anxious for him to get to work in me, and he was ready too, but since he pleaded, and since I like it so much, I let him have a taste. In a very short while, I was screaming a climax into his pillow from his tasting of me, and I asked him to stop then and put it in, please.

I told William I thought it was making me hot that Sand was out there fretting. I didn’t want it, I wanted her in with us kissing me on the mouth and all over, but I couldn’t have that, but I was dreaming of her, and her out there fretting. William got in me and pumped away furiously, because he was pretty worked up by having me again, and by our shared interest in his wife, I think. As soon as he entered me, I think I was climaxing pretty much continuously. My eyes were crossing. But he didn’t last long. I think I got out only three really good pillow-biting ones before I felt his hot spunk flood up in me deep and I wailed into his pillow again.

We rested a minute, and I was sad, because I knew my turn for the night was over, and William had done his duty now as far as Willard was concerned. And I wanted William to sleep with his wife. I was trying to feel content with how proper that would be. Then William started up in me again, and whispered to me that Sand would worry that we were lying if we didn’t take more time in here. I whispered back with a big smile that she could have seen it for herself (then I had to stop and bite William’s pillow). I continued after that if she had, she could be under him now instead of me (another climax). But she missed out. Oh lord, I was really going by then with the climaxes. William lasted much longer this time, then he spunked in me good and hot and deep again. By then his pillow looked like the dogs had gotten it, it had so many bite and spit marks in it from me.

A few minutes after William finished his second time in me, I staggered out their bedroom door into Sand’s arms, mighty convenient. I looked her in the eye and asked her had she listened? She denied it, but it looked to me that she was lying. I said, like she had said yes, that then she heard that we were talking about how much we wanted her to join us. Sand blushed and looked uncomfortable. I realized I was talking drunk people’s talk and shut up after that. She led me in the dark to the cot in the kitchen, and I fell asleep almost immediately.

Friday, 1 October 1880

As of yesterday afternoon, Willard has officially made me a dirty whore, albeit an extraordinarily expensive one. An important man of the vicinity, one Denton Kane, young in his mid-thirties to be an elder, said to be a violent man, did not offer enough in farm tools to satisfy Emma he was worth my company, but she thought the matter touchy enough to involve Willard. Alfred and Willard went off for a private chat, leaving me on the settee. I saw money change hands, which I heard later from Emma was $50, which I expect would be enough to buy a virgin princess’s cunt, I would say, were it for sale. At least I knew by then he liked me.

After we got in the room, I’ll admit Denton had a pleasant way about him too, very compelling, very solicitous, not ordering me around or talking down to me. He won me over in my favorite way, which was by licking and sucking my cunny until I had a glorious climax. Then he had me, and I climaxed for him a few more times, whimpering ones.

As we lay there after, with him off me and me half back on him since the bed was small, I felt close enough to him to have a few tears and describe my anguish at being made to do this, not him in particular, but any man who showed up like this.

Denton got very philosophical about it, and opined that life is suffering, and all we can do is let God judge others, as I had reserved my judgment of him, and be kind, which I was, and be generous, which I mightily had been to him given the circumstances of our acquaintance, and create good, which he assured me I had done with him. He also went on about my beauty and he wanted to make me smile. Then I said then have me again, and he did, and he felt so good in me.

After, he said he could tell I had anger smoldering in me, not for him, but he felt it radiating out of me like looking into a furnace when I had showed my soul to him during our lovemaking. He asked me to consider forgiveness towards Willard and any others who had hurt me, to make it a way of life, to turn the other cheek, to let God deal with them, and trust that he would. I kissed him dearly and promised him I would think on it.

Charles visited me in the room I share with Emma last night. He asked me how the sucking was going, and I told him proudly that the men of the field house had declared me better at sucking than the finest whore, and I thanked him for his able teaching. He smiled and suggested we undress. We did, and got on the bed, and did something like Emma and I do, except I was sucking a dick instead of a cunny. He was getting close, so I told him I wanted him to spunk in me, which he turned over and did in me in a few strokes. Then he turned around and we started doing it again as before. I had myself a couple of very good, very quiet climaxes while choking myself on his dick. Then I wanted him in me again, so we turned around and did it the normal way again. He was very vigorous, and I bit my pillow several times before he finished in me. Then he left to go back to his homestead and sleep with his wife.

Emma then joined me to sleep with me. We licked each other some beforehand as is our custom, and she said that Charles’s spunk was very tasty, and that she was probably a bad mother for knowing how her own son’s spunk tasted. I laughed and argued she had only raised him, and she should join us and feel it direct. It was no sin, given the rule. She said absolutely not, but with a shy smile.

Saturday, 2 October 1880

Yesterday afternoon, my last two wedding well-wishers squeaked in under the wire. The first one was a man about Willard’s age named Zebadiah Clement. I didn’t listen about what he gave. I tried to get interested in what his dick might be like, and I watched his hands. That made it easier. He licked me a little beforehand, which always helps me, and he did me on the edge of the bed quick and vigorous. I didn’t mind it. I didn’t climax, but it was nice all the same. I didn’t feel frustrated by it. When he spunked in me I got a good feeling of satisfaction from that, like we had accomplished something together. I didn’t feel dirty afterwards or anything. He was obviously a smart and an important man. By my own creed, I would want his seed up in me anyway and would not have denied him if it had been a question of him asking.

As Zebadiah was taking his leave, the second well-wisher, Warren Brown, was already sitting with Emma. He was a young man, and looked like he might be friendly and not mean. He had good hands and a pleasant voice. I had thankfully already missed the negotiations. Emma took me aside and asked if I was in too much disarray from Zebadiah, or could I visit with Warren without bathing first? She didn’t want to make him wait. She said he was probably the last visitor, and that made me quite happy to hear. I whispered back yes, let’s finish this duty quickly.

So I found myself in the room with Warren. He was a keeper in my book, because he started to go to wonderful work on my cunny with his tongue. I had to bite my pillow, and had a climax for him that way. Then he asked, kind of lighthearted, is this another man’s spunk in you? I was mortified, but I had to admit it. It wouldn’t help matters to lie to him. He could see he’d upset me, and we started this competition of who could apologize more to the other, me for the spunk and him for mentioning it at all. Then there was a knock on the door.

It was Zebadiah. He had left his hat. Warren and Zebadiah knew each other. Warren took the opportunity to say how much he admired Zebadiah and shook his hand warmly. Zebadiah looked over Warren’s shoulder and saw me, my face beet red from embarrassment, with my legs still spread towards them and my cunny all open and wet with Warren’s spittle. She’s quite tasty, isn’t she, Zebadiah remarked. Warren agreed heartily, and suggested he shouldn’t run off so soon. Instead, they should share me together.

Zebadiah insisted he needed more of a break, and that Warren should proceed to have me first. Warren did, and since he had worked me up so nice with his tongue, I had some nice climaxes for him on the way, chomping on the pillow in my extremity. Zebadiah commented I had such a beautiful blush on me, and Warren agreed heartily. Zebadiah said it was rewarding to see a vigorous young man love me up so good and give me such paroxysms, Warren being perhaps twenty years his junior.

Zebadiah had his dick out and was rubbing it excitedly and watching us as Warren reached the end of his pushing and strained and shot several hot jets in me. I watched Zebadiah rubbing himself over Warren’s shoulder as this happened, biting my pillow again in a howling climax and stretching my legs apart to take Warren’s seed as deep as I could manage while looking Zebadiah in the eyes. I think I like it when men watch me doing it with other men. I could see the lust growing in Zebadiah’s eyes and expression. It seemed I had a glimpse of the young tyrant Zebadiah had been when he had been Warren’s age. Men fascinate me.

I felt insatiable for some reason. As Zebadiah had me again, I flirted slyly with Warren over his shoulder. Warren started rubbing himself up. I was all fired up, so I kept climaxing helplessly for Zebadiah this time and it was stirring him up good. He probably only lasted as long the second time as he had the first.

As soon as Zebadiah pulled out, Warren pushed in as Zebadiah looked on appreciatively. I enjoyed the quick switch, throwing out my legs again and roaring out a nice healthy climax into the pillow. Warren lifted the pillow as he pumped in me so he could see my breasts. This made me feel wonderful, because I had been feeling bad about the ugly cigar burn. Warren clearly didn’t mind it.

Warren lasted a long time, by which time I had bitten my pillow all to death. Zebadiah was rubbing himself but was still fairly limp as Warren finished in me, but as Warren finished, Zebadiah splashed out a little seed on my breasts, sighing greatly. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I just couldn’t help myself, and wondered to the men whether somebody else had left their hat?

It was Emma, on the warpath. She yelled at both the men, saying that Willard had told them both they were entitled to one poke in me. Instead, they had both been at me all afternoon. She asked Zebadiah how was it that he was even still here, and he sheepishly answered he had forgotten his hat. Zebadiah offered two pigs by way of apology, and Warren five bales of hay. Emma shooed them out anyway, leaving me naked sideways on the bed covered in spunk.

James visited me in the evening. He said his fortunes were changing rapidly in the household, thanks to me. He and Emma were on good speaking terms now, and Richard, William, and Charles had all reached out as well, Charles being the strangest turn of relationships, since they had fought ever since they were children. Now, in probably their first ever truly adult conversation, they both saw they had no need of such childish things anymore, and if either of them felt the squabble coming on again, they had made a pact to speak to the other about me instead, about a person they both cherished, and not fight.

James asked me to get up on the bed, show him my cunny, and play with it for him as I had last time we were together. I happily did it. Our truce was still obviously in effect, but I didn’t know how to proceed. If I told him the things I was lusting for him to do, like lick me, show me his fat dick, and so forth, I feared upsetting the truce that has him giving the orders and me willingly taking them. Similarly, I felt like he was holding back, perhaps doing the same as before, because he didn’t want to ask for anything that would upset me and therefore upset the truce the other way.

I was wondering whether I should just say something to James about the conundrum when James solved it in a stroke by asking me to say tempting things to him, as tempting as I could think of, as I rubbed myself for him. I told him I was pining to see his big fat dick, and lo, he unbuttoned his trousers and started rubbing it. I told him I was making my girl cream extra delicious for him. He didn’t take the hint. Maybe he had never licked a cunny. I would have to keep getting him to try, but there would be time for that. I went through all kinds of naughty things I hadn’t done with him yet, but wanted to.

I was dripping for James by the time my wish list was completed, and he took me with increasing force on the bed as I relaxed to his girth. It was very enjoyable, but as he began to get really excited, I worried. Seeing his dick go into me was like watching a freight train fitting into a mouse hole. I closed my eyes, suspended my disbelief, and felt instead the love that was pumping into me from James. I felt grateful. I was feeling around for a pillow to bite because I felt one coming on. Then James’s spunk hit my guts hard! Lord the pressure of it, and I shouted out “Awwwwww!” as I climaxed hard. I couldn’t help it.

After, resting in each other’s arms for a bit, James said he wanted to introduce me to his wife. They had no little ones yet, and it had been five years. He had been thinking of bringing her into the household, and by this I’m sure he meant having her get bred by all the men here. But he didn’t want to. By that statement it could be that he did not want to share his wife, but he looked pretty desperate saying it, so I think he meant she was afraid and he couldn’t bring himself to force her to do it.

I’m not sure why I did it, but I offered to come to his homestead and talk to her, answer her questions about how it was. I was skirting our truce in suggesting this. I was quick to add that I expected they were desperate to have a baby by now, and I wanted to help them any way I could think to. I said he knew I objected to the rule, but not for the function, for the lack of choice. James then redrew our line by saying it was his decision alone for reasons he’d explained to me, but he would consider my offer. We were learning to communicate.
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