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Child Bride (Mf, MFf, mf, M+~f, Ff, hist, piv, anal, oral, 1st, bd, bi, best)

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Chapter 12: Farm Life

Sunday, 10 October 1880.

I haven’t had time to write in the last week, but I’ve been getting happier and more settled in my new world. Once I was free of the disgusting post-wedding arrangements of last week, Richard assigned me to work outside with the animals alongside Philinda. Just the two of us handle both barns and all the yards now. I love it more than anything, but it means I work from dawn until supper most days, and my evenings save one are filled with men, so these two activities keep me too occupied to write during the week.

I’m planning to use my Sunday afternoons and evenings to catch up with my writing, a practice I am starting gleefully this very afternoon!

Moving Philinda, Willard's eighth wife, and me to care for the barns and yards allowed Richard to move Elvira (wife twelve), Sophia (wife seven), Bathsheba (wife eleven), and Desdemona (wife nine) all indoors, where they are better suited, at least for now. Elvira is huge with child now and about to pop, so she hadn’t been able to do much anyway, so Sophia had come out temporarily to help these last few months. Bathsheba is getting on five months, so it is well time for her to be doing less strenuous work. Desdemona just missed her bleeding two months now, and is better suited to being indoors at any rate.

My day now is to wake at dawn, have a hearty breakfast, work hard until dinner, have dinner in the barn with Philinda, then work hard until about an hour before supper. Then I go indoors, have a very thorough bath to wash off the stink, have supper with or without a man, invariably spread my nethers, and commence to somebody else going to work on insemination and the like.

Philinda and I have taken to playing a game called “fingers or hoo-hoo” at dinner and we have a laugh with it. Her little girls Bertha and Rachel often dine with us in the barn, so we have made the game appropriately hazy to them. If we’ve had dicks in us more times than we’ve had fingers, hand, what have you, in a critter since we last played, we answer “hoo-hoo.” If the other way, we answer “fingers.” We’ve convinced the girls the game refers to owls. They don’t understand why owls are so funny.

My weekly schedule of men has been as Willard explained to me. On Monday evenings, I visit Willard starting with supper in his room. I’ve lost a great deal of respect for him since our wedding day, but he is a dutiful and gentle lover, so the breeding of last Monday, the second time we’ve been together, was not unpleasant. We didn’t talk much. He asked me whether I liked the barn, and I said I loved it, and that was about it. Thankfully, no more probing questions about inseminations, climaxes, and so forth.

On Tuesday evenings, Richard is taking me to his homestead for supper. After the children are asleep, we make love to Deirdre, or all three of us make love, however that should be said. It has been twice so far since our first time together, and now that I’m working outside and I’m so much happier, it was like heaven this time for all three of us. I feel like I’ve been such a burden to them in the past, all sobbing and broken at their doorstep. I’m glad this evening through morning is now turning into pure joy as I believe God intends.

Since I work out in the barn covered in stink most of the day, I rarely have a man appear to avail himself of me during my workday. However, Richard visited in the afternoon last Wednesday, ostensibly to survey the barnyard, and surprised me pleasantly by bending me over the pig gate and spunking in me after Philinda had left for the other barn. I guess he couldn’t stop thinking of me after last night. He left me wanting more of him, but I did have a little climax when he spunked in me, so that was something.

On Wednesday evenings, William is taking me to see Sand. This past week, Sand was so relieved I was happy and seemed well past my situation of the previous week. I chattered about how much I loved my work in the barns and yards as we had some whiskey together. William and I both, with conspiratorial glances, made sure that Sand’s little tipple was always full, but I don’t think any of us drank very much.

After their little daughters were asleep in bed, we returned to the kitchen and resumed chatting and sipping. William and I slowly cozied up to Sand on either side until we were in a kind of three way hug. William started kissing her neck, as she was mostly facing me. Sand’s face started flushing, but she allowed it. After a while of this, Sand said very softly that she made all kinds of different sounds, depending on her mood. I said me too!

I asked her what her favorite part was, and she said it was when William was in his short strokes right near the end. She said it was as if the good Lord possessed his hips and dick in those moments to stir her mightily so she was always clamoring ready to receive. I loved her description, and could feel my wet coming down as she said it. I don’t think I’d ever talked to another woman so frankly before about how a man feels.

The she asked what my favorite part was, and I said definitely when the batch hits up in me. She asked you mean the final thrust? I said that too, but also the warm and feeling the spunk touch me or squirt inside. She said she didn’t think she really felt that part, and then she said, maybe a little sometimes. I said I could feel it very strongly practically all the time. Then she asked me how do William’s batches feel in me. William and I made surprised eye contact over Sand’s shoulder at this. I continued to lock eyes with William, him kissing Sand’s neck, and I told him that his batches were big hot floods, hot, and everywhere up inside me.

I said I was feeling itchy now, and let’s continue the conversation in the bed. At this, Sand startled a little, and suggested William and I should go do our business like last time. I said I could tell she was itchier, and she should go first. She agreed, and we all stood up. I asked her could I watch, and she said she didn’t know about that. I told her we both knew she had watched William and me last time (William’s eyes widened at this news), and I would be like a little mouse, she wouldn’t notice me. I just wanted to be honest about watching, and she said she understood. I said if it becomes a problem, I’ll leave the room, and she said okay.

William and Sand walked to their bedroom, me following in their wake. They climbed on the bed, and I hid along the nearside of the bed, waiting for sounds that would suggest to me that Sand was too distracted to notice me watching. William’s boots went gently onto the floor, but everything else, socks, bloomers, came flying over my head. I think William was trying to make a show for me. I smiled at this.

In a few more minutes, Sand started making some cute whimpers, and I peeked at them. William was eating her cunny, and she was clearly starting at the last quarter turn what with the sexy talk we’d had. She looked to me like she was already climaxing, but I’ve learned from Deirdre and Emma that different girls are different, so I reserved my judgment and resolved to learn her.

I was sitting back when the bed started to shake. I peeked up, and there was William finally inside her starting to work. Sand had long since gone out of her mind with pleasure in my estimation. I suppose I was impatient, but William had teased her so much with his tongue I had feared he would lick her all up, but now he was finally on and in her pumping hard. And what a sight! I stood there on my knees at the side of the bed watching them, transfixed, my mouth ajar. They together looked so perfect. I felt, and I could almost see the love between them binding them together tight, flowing between them like a river.

It wasn’t until William got urgent that I noticed my mouth was hanging open stupidly and I had a very urgent button in my bloomers that wanted rubbing. My hand was into my bloomers the next moment rubbing up my sopping wet cunt as I watched William puffing and entering his short strokes. Sand was luxuriating and vibrating at her most pleasured. As William made his final thrust and groan, I bit the side of the bed, and howled into it, climaxing, and peed a little into my bloomers. Sand was shaking and whimpering too.

After they came awake again, Sand said it was my turn. I asked her to watch us, and she said okay, knowing we knew she’d already watched us in secret last time. I asked her to hold my hand, because I wanted her assurance this time that William was given by her, and I would not have to feel guilty for having him. She agreed, and it made me happy.

I had already taken off my bloomers after I had peed in them a little. William took off my dress so that we were all three naked. Sand had not seen my burn, and I showed it to her, and said it was much better, and also the right side of my face. Then I lay down, and Sand held my hand, and William got his mouth between my legs.

I was wanting him to be in me, but I think he was trying to show his wife he was giving me the same loving care every woman deserved down there, which is a sweet notion. Within a few minutes, though, I couldn’t stay nearly still enough, and I was too sensitive for a tongue or anything to touch right on my button anymore. I begged him to please get into me.

As I looked into Sand’s eyes, William thrust into me, and I realized I had a big one coming out with no pillow, so I just gagged and gurgled trying to not wake the kids. My face must have gotten beet red. After, I begged for a pillow and Sand gave me a little leather children’s toy. It was perfect! I stuffed it into my mouth.

As William worked in me and I climaxed I don’t know how many times, I kept my eyes locked on Sand’s eyes, thanking her with my look for sharing William, showing her the pleasure he was giving me, and it was because of her kindness. She started whimpering whenever I would have one and bite the toy. Finally, she switched hands on me, got on her tummy, and started rubbing her button, our eyes still locked.

William then entered his short strokes, and I started quivering and climaxing, and Sand was working hard and pumping her hips into the bed. Husband and wife climaxed together, thrusting into the bed, and me, their thrustee, climaxed gloriously as well, feeling William’s nice hot flood fill my cunny, and it seemed, warm me and heal me everywhere.

Afterwards, William confessed it had driven him crazy with the beauty of it to see us stare and watch at each other so intensely the whole time. Sand said she felt comfortable having a sister wife for the first time, for she had dreaded the idea of sharing her man since she was a child. Now she realized it made her bigger and made her closer to William, because they could give their love to me together as a couple.

After that, it was lights out, and we all three slept together naked with William in the middle. I must have an extra sense for this, because in the middle of the night, I came awake, and William was hard, but asleep. My feeling his cock woke him up gently. I was embarrassed about taking it right in front of Sand, so I whispered to him to put it in her. William gently roused Sand with kisses, but she was having none of it, and then remembered me, and told him to disturb my sleep instead. I smiled and fitted my leather toy into my mouth in anticipation.

William then spread and mounted me excitedly, and he proceeded to have a great horny panting time for himself on top of me, and I was just as wound up and climaxing as I had been earlier. Sand must have been awake the whole time. When I was not climaxing, I was saying thank you Sand, thank you Sand, over and over again, and I hope she heard me. Then at the end William warmed me with a really big batch. He even had a rag for me. We fell asleep entangled, me with the rag up to my cunny and the toy clutched firmly in my hand.

I took the leather toy back to the main house with Sand's blessing. I think I'll have need of it often, and I'm hoping it will allow the men to play with my breasts more instead of having a pillow getting in the way of my face and chest.

On Thursday evenings, Charles visits me in the room I share with Emma, then he leaves afterwards to go sleep with his wife, which is a good thing, as far as I am concerned. I’ve told him I want to meet her, but maybe he thinks I’m not being sincere. He seems shy about her. We like to suck cunny and dick at the same time, turned around, so we mostly do that. When Charles gets close, we stop and he spunks up into my cunny. We had an accident once this time, and he spunked all over everywhere instead. We laughed and laughed. I promised Emma later I would do the sheets, but she said she’d do them. She is sweet to me.

On Friday, the evening before last, James took me to visit his wife Rebecca at their homestead. As we three sat together and drank. James and I tried to get Rebecca comfortable with the notion of joining the household for a year, which Willard had approved. If no results after the year, Rebecca could go back to living on James’s homestead. So that was something. Knowing Willard, I thought privately, he just wanted to get his dick wet in Rebecca. But bless me, I kind of agreed with the notion. She was the kind of girl that made me want to have a dick so I could get it wet in her! The whisky was talking loud to me by then, I hasten to add.

Becca was disturbed by the notion of being loved up by all these different men. I told her that after James, she wouldn’t even feel those other men, so it wouldn’t be a problem. I went on and on about how other men are pencil dicks compared to James, and not only was Becca relieved, but James was all puffed up with pride as well. I had the sense God gave me not to add that from my standpoint it was more of a problem to my enjoyment than a benefit. Anyway, my mouse hole is my own problem. Most other women might benefit for all I know.

By the end of that conversation, I was feeling so itchy to go to bed with them. I had been sidling up to Becca as we were talking, and then she surprised me by grabbing my head in both her hands and ramming her tongue into my mouth with great excitement. I returned the favor and looked over to James to see his reaction. He was a little surprised, but it looked like in a good way.

A few minutes later, we were naked in bed together. Becca and I were turned around sucking each other’s cunnys like we had discovered fire, and she was phenomenal at it. This was far from her first lap around a cunny, I wagered, and I wondered if James knew. I wasn’t going to let on. I was just going to have too many climaxes and let my eyes cross, which I proceeded to do. James just watched us and rubbed his dick, like he didn’t quite know where to put it into Becca’s and my thrashing wrestle of bodies. I could understand. If I had a dick, I wouldn’t want to get it caught in that feeding frenzy either!

After Becca and I started to get wrung out, James split us apart and went into Becca and started pumping. Becca had a medium-sized cunny, I would say, versus my mouse hole. She seemed to love all of James’s cock right away and started sighing right away.

When Becca knew James was close, she asked James to put the seed into me. Though it was a kind notion on her part, I tried to back away immediately, knowing the amount of preparation usually required for James to feel tolerable in me. But I was all wrapped around Becca and kissing her up fierce at that moment and unable to get away quickly. Becca then looked down and saw James’s dick up to my little mouse hole, saw the obvious discrepancy in that moment, and shouted Lord, no!

Exactly, but it was too late. James pushed hard and urgent up in me because he was so close, and even though I was very slick, it was like somebody kicked me hard in the nethers with a sharp toe, though I knew he was not trying to hurt me. I then almost immediately felt the terrible pressure of his batch, but I couldn’t enjoy it through the pain. Becca looked on like she had just seen a small animal killed in front of her, and in a very real sense, she had. It was an accident, really, so we three laughed about it after a little bit, but my sore cunny and I were done for the evening regardless, except for some mouth and breast kissing.

I found out later on in a private moment with Becca that she and her cousins had played among themselves with their cunnys constantly as children, which was why she was so good at it. James didn’t know anything about it. I told her, because she should know, that having all the sister wives around was another advantage to her to visiting the homestead, if only for a year. I told her I had been exploring with the other wives a little as they approached me, but I had only known I liked a good cunny for a few weeks now, and didn't know the half of it yet. She looked intrigued.

I had another visitor to the barn on Saturday afternoon quite unexpectedly. The first I noticed them, I heard John and his wife Patricia hurling insults at each other somewhere outside the barn. I know what a bad man John can be, but some of the insults and belittling things Patricia said to him should never be said to any man or woman. I was embarrassed for humanity just to have overheard them. Then it seemed Patricia stormed off.

Next thing, John limped into the barn like a wounded bird. He wasn’t actually limping, mind you, but all the grease was out of him. He was one miserable human being, that’s all. He looked at me. I looked at him. He said to me, are we still friends, squirt? I guess he wants to call me squirt now. I said back to him better than some, nodding towards the outside where they were fighting, and we chuckled together. He said, I’m not a bad man. I asked him, what do you need? I was thinking, I can’t give him absolution. He said, I can be gentle. Now I knew what he wanted, at least. I was not interested in starting a fight. I said provocatively, show me.

John backed me up onto a low railing. He knelt on the floor, reached under my dress, gently pulled down my bloomers, and handed them to me. Then he put his head under my skirt. What a gentleman, I exclaimed, smiling. He started exploring my cunny with his tongue. It was charming in its inexperience. He was putting in a good effort with me, greatly to be encouraged. Of course, I am wet enough practically any time, but I always appreciate when a man wants to make sure.

From under the dress he said, you’re wet all the time aren’t you? I answered pretty much. I told him I liked what he was doing. He went back to doing it. Nice. This was like training a wild horse to be good, I thought to myself. He came up from under the dress and wiped his mouth, and I thanked him and smiled at him. He undid his trousers, and his dick looked like the rest of him, a little sad. So it was my turn to get down and give it some love with my mouth, which I greatly enjoyed, because had he been patient and nicer to me earlier, he could have had this sooner, and now he knew it, and as I looked up at him, I could see his face was flushed with extreme pleasure.

He slid his dick out of my throat with a certain force of will, with the look of a man who would only settle for a cunny. Then he bent me over the rail, lifted my dress, and rocked into my cunny from behind. I saw Philinda spy us through a window, but I knew she would not disturb unless I was hurting, and she could tell it was fine. John had been very excited from my sucking, and his pace rapidly quickened. Then he said to me somewhat tortured, I promise I won’t kill my wife.

It was an odd thing to hear during that moment of quickening ecstasy, but suddenly I felt like all women receiving his heartfelt promise to be good to women. Just a moment later I felt him tense and his warmth spread in me, and I responded, shaking in climax and moaning loudly at the feel of it, his promise still sinking into me like his spunk was. The cows mooed in response to my moan. I liked this version of John: dangerous as ever, but somehow for some reason newly striving towards love. I think now I had been right originally, that he was after absolution. I suppose I had given him a kind of it.

He slid out, dropped the hem of my dress, and told me softly and gratefully I was a comfort to him. With that, he patted my bottom gently and thoughtfully several times, as if he wanted to say something more, and then he left.

My hardest working night was last night, Saturday night with the field crew, with tonight being my night of rest with Emma. I started by begging the crew not to tie me to the pony this time, and this was at the beginning of the evening when they were not drunk, and they promised not to do it. I also didn't need to bite their dirty ball, because I brought my leather toy with me. I promised in exchange to go around to each of their beds and visit them after lights out, and when they were all tucked in, I would go sleep with Abe, but they could still fetch me from there and have me if they wanted.

This worked out so much better for me. Most of them were drunk and did not rouse when I climbed in with them, so within two hours after lights out I ended up snuggled with Abe all the rest of the night. Abe roused me twice after that to have me, but I know he’s terrible sweet on me, and I’m right there, so who could blame him? This morning they all had me at least twice before Emma pounded on the field house door, told them they were overly tardy in returning me, and warned them from now on to conclude their business with me and return me by an hour past sunrise at the latest.

Emma has just given me a sweet gift, which is a little leather necklace I can use to hang the leather toy given me by Sand around my neck. I look like a tiny tot with the toy hung around my neck like that. It is very practical, though, when all my other things are off for sport and I need it for a climax. I think most of my men will like the look of it, too. It is not for Willard, however, because he wants me to wake the house when he makes me climax.

Sunday, 17 October 1880.

The hard part about writing after a week has gone by is having to think back all week to get everything in proper chronological order. The second hardest is that I’m dying to write about certain things of the week, but I also want to keep it in order.

Last Sunday evening, after concluding my writing last time and snuggling into bed with Emma, I pushed my play with her further than I had before, and enjoyed the results so much they are noteworthy. Because I knew Emma had been wet for the field house since before her last taste during the Catherine incident, much of our carnal play recently had involved me pumping my well-greased arm in and out of her thoroughly stretched cunt to “prepare her for Edgar and the boys,” and of me climaxing her whenever I wanted by wiggling my hand or arm certain ways in her.

That night, though, after I had worked her up to climaxing whenever I wished, I stilled my arm and began teasing her ever-so-slowly-and-gently in there while describing how all those big young strong men would enjoy her and grunt and fill her up with their seed one after another like a pack of wild animals. As I said nastier and nastier things to her about how they would tie her down and spank her and bugger her until she begged them to relent, I teased her insides ever so slightly while talking to her like this and she began to climax more by my words stroking on her than my fingers. I got several juicy shuddering climaxes out of her like this and loved it more than anything.

Monday afternoon, Richard appeared in the barn again and had me over the pig gate again. Philinda spotted him doing it this time and watched us, she told me later. As soon as he was in me, an old boar got inspired to cover a sow in standing heat I had penned him with. It looks like he got her on the first try too, for she squealed and peed a bit and then they were both still as the contents of his huge pendulous balls began emptying into her. I asked Richard if I should start making low groaning noises along with the sow, and he pleaded no.

I started giggling silly as he pumped away because first of all, I was filled with a sense of joy and naughtiness and desirability, since this must be a way off Richard’s routine, and secondly, although I couldn’t see Richard’s face, the boar’s face was the picture of contentment I would expect to see on Richard’s face in this moment. When he’d walked in, he looked like a man obsessed and urgent, and it had made me let down some moisture the moment I saw that look on him. Now, gazing at the pig’s contented face while my own stud worked in me just tickled me somehow and made me giggle.

I kept laughing and giggling playfully between my sighs as Richard and the boar continued to enjoy themselves in their respective cunnies. Finally, I was laughing “hah-hah-hah-hah-UUUUHHH!” and climaxed as Richard thrust hard and reached his end in me, putting a surprisingly big batch in me forcefully. That stopped me laughing, and then Richard chuckled, enjoying no doubt that he had finally shut up my laughing with a climax. I thought to myself a little worried, with such a batch, he must not have done Deirdre that morning. Was everything okay? Richard buttoned up and left quickly as the boar continued to rest on his sow and pump in his semen, content.

That evening, which is Willard’s evening with me, Willard said over supper that he wanted to properly introduce me to Elizabeth, his fifth wife. I said politely, we’ve met several times, sir. Willard thought for a minute, and said he could not figure a way to ask politely this question he wanted to ask me. Oh no, I thought. Then he asked me, is it true that you enjoy both men and women in bed? Oh dear, I thought. Yes, sir, I answered dutifully, if the man is good to me. Willard chuckled at this, and commented, yes, he agreed women are better, and hastened to add, lest he be misunderstood, that he himself had no interest in men.

Willard went on that he had known for many years that Elizabeth was both exceedingly shy in carnal matters and also only liked women and had little or no interest in men. Even so, he thought her with her fair complexion surpassing beautiful even at the age of 35, and she had served the household very ably over the years and continued to this day to attempt to conceive with a full schedule of inseminations from the men of the household, even a turn at the field house almost every Monday. He went on that he himself sees Elizabeth, or Beth as he calls her, every Sunday evening.

As it happened, the previous evening when they were talking close together in bed, he had caught a whiff of Beth’s attraction to me, and had gotten her to confess terrible strong romantic and lusty feelings towards me. She further confessed to Willard that she had not said anything to me for fear I would be disgusted by her gender or the fact she was almost three times my age or both and would spurn her advance.

Beth being a good and loyal wife, and Willard wanting both her happiness and also her excitement in bed, which he felt was one of the keys to conception, he promised her he would have a close talk with me about my feelings about her attraction to me and whether I might favor her if she approached me. After he had made the promise, Beth was wet and excited, he knew for what reason but still enjoyed it greatly, and she had almost climaxed. It had been more excitement than he had felt in her in years, and it had made him very happy to be a part of it.

Willard continued, so what say you? I answered truthfully that I’d had romantic and lustful feelings for Beth, but had not approached her for the same reason, fear of being spurned. He chuckled and said that then perhaps he had made three of his wives happier this night, for he had held Beth back from the field house and sent Emma instead to be “roughed up by those drunken bastards” as he put it, because she had been begging him for it incessantly since her last duty there.

With that, he left and brought back Beth a moment later and we three sat at the table and stared silently at one another. Then Beth and I locked eyes and then locked one hand together in an excited grip as we took each other in. I did not know it could be such a delicious moment when you lock eyes with a person you’ve been lusting for, knowing things are near certainly about to get nasty and that perhaps you’ll spend the rest of your life with your arms and legs wrapped around each other climaxing helplessly, but nothing has happened yet. My heart was racing so fast I felt as if to die, and yet I felt so comfortable and complete together with her, knowing already our attraction was mutual, smiling silly and enjoying our last few moments together as relative strangers before the inevitable passion and intimacy would hit us both like a hammer and we would be sobbing with pleasure. I will never forget those few moments of holding her hand tightly beforehand.

Willard spoke softly, and said he knew we were both shy about this. He said he loved us both dearly and lusted for us both too, and so wanted to stay, but more strongly, he didn’t want to mess with whatever this blazing lightning storm was between us. So, he concluded, he was going to go bother Bathsheba until tomorrow morning, and his rooms were thereby ours until tomorrow morning. We both thanked him, and Beth said she loved him, and I told him I loved him too, because I did in that moment. That man, who was sensitive and cared about another’s feelings, I loved. And with that, with a complex look on his face, Willard left us and shut the door.

Beth led me over to the bed, and leaned me back on it, started kissing me on the mouth, and soon our tongues were lashing. She reached up under my dress, and I started fumbling for the hem of her dress as she speared my dripping cunny with one finger, breaking the kiss long enough to say about my wetness, Lord I feel so welcome, then back to tongue lashing, me still fumbling trying to find her hem as she thrust and started pumping a second finger up in me, not breaking the tongues, and started stroking my nipple as well. That’s when I broke the kiss like coming up for air and howled out my first climax good and loud and wet and throaty, shouting, shaking, shattering inside, my hands still mindlessly fumbling trying to find the hem of her dress. It would not be the last climax for either of us that night!

I suppose Richard tired of the pig gate by Tuesday afternoon, for he stopped by and had me on a low table in the other barn. I think it helped me to look at him and the ceiling while he had me instead of having to stare the whole time at the work that was wanting me, and so I had a couple of climaxes for him including a big shouting one at the end. It was another disturbingly big hot excited batch from Richard, as if he hadn’t done it since in me yesterday. Philinda heard me from two yards away, and told me later she rushed over to catch it, but he was already away by the time she began to peek.

That evening Richard escorted me from my room, and I asked him about his lately daily afternoon urgency and what prompted it. He said it started as a game, an extremely enjoyable game as far as he was concerned, between Deirdre and him. He had told her about taking me the previous Wednesday, how when he had seen me there, so happy and competent in my work, how he could barely wait until Philinda left, and then was more urgent than he had ever felt in his life to spunk in me straightaway.

From that evening, Deirdre had planned and ordered his further daily afternoon assaults on my virtue the night before with glee and required them to be described to her the same evening. She knew I was wet enough all the time, so she reveled in having him penetrate me mere moments after surprising me. She looked forward to Richard possibly sneaking up on me and thrusting into me with no warning at all. I said I wonder if she will like to hear about you getting brained with a cow stick, and we both laughed. The worst had been that she had been denying him release to “encourage” him to be further desperate, abrupt, and virile in my cunny. She laughed that it was only to the good she was teasing him so, since she was already pregnant and I still needed to be.

Talking in bed with Deirdre that evening, I perhaps got her to tone down their silly game and stop so tormenting her husband who loved her dearly. She begged for and liked that day’s tale best of all because Richard described my loud climax at the end. Yes, take her out of her work, start blindfolding her, ordered Deirdre. I warned them that Philinda had run over from two yards away to make sure I was okay, and we would be caught, but Deirdre said no matter.

Deirdre said it would excite her for Philinda to catch us, watch us, perhaps even touch herself, for Richard already bred her the very next evening, that is Wednesday, every week, and it would get Philinda started for him good. We all knew Philinda was a hot-blooded one as well.

Perhaps Richard should take us both one after the other soon, Deirdre enthused. I rolled my eyes while Richard argued that he did in fact work during the day. I mentioned that Philinda’s children were often underfoot. It was not a good time or place for such games.

On Wednesday night, Sand continued to just want to be sisterly in bed with me, which is good and wonderful. We held hands and spread our legs together this time. William went back and forth between us as the mood struck him, like a bee on two rosebuds. As each of us felt it, we tried to describe how William felt inside us. I confessed I lost words quickly always. Talking about it got me so bothered I could only say “yes!” and “oh good God!” and “oh so deep!” about as soon as he got into me most of the time.

Charles’s visit Thursday evening was good but uneventful. He will not introduce me to his wife. I expect he thinks I’m a bad influence. I suppose he is correct.

On Friday evening, Becca and I didn’t even make it into the kitchen for a whisky. Instead, she met me at the door with whiskey for me and made me drink it before entering. Then she led me to the bedroom, saying her aim this week was to open me nice and gentle for James’s insemination. She realized she’d made several mistakes. The licking, pleasant as it was for both of them, had twisted my cunny up into knots. Tonight it was going to be a lot of stroking and fingers and maybe a little licking for good measure, but mostly fingers and gentle and slow.

It sounded like she had a whole nasty plan for me, and so I just let her run with it. James too, because he very patiently did whatever she bade him on my behalf. Becca was doing me nicely with her fingers, and I was feeling it good, but I said it would be more exciting if James was at work in her, and so they started doing that. Their lovemaking did look very nice to me, and made me more wet, and although Becca lost a good bit of her concentration on my cunny, the pleasure emanating from both of them as James enjoyed himself in her more than made up for it. I had my first howling climax then, and shortly after, Becca whimpered and groaned as James shot his seed into her.

Becca said her arms were all tired then, and she bade James finger me. He started with one, but then was thrusting two big fat fingers up in me, and I began to shriek and climax regularly from it. Eying the scene and rubbing herself, Becca surmised that two of James’s fingers were really almost as wide as his dick, and Bade James slowly and gently try to penetrate me. James and I had actually done this several times before, but we didn’t mention that to Becca. She was having such a good time orchestrating this masterwork of insemination! It was so cute.

I think she also liked directing James to go slow and do all the things to get in me and start moving faster and faster. It was as if she was making love to me with her husband that way. It excited James and me, too, for the same reason, as if they were both making love to me. At the end, she really tormented her husband a bit, but in a good way I’d wager, considering his reaction. She would tease him up by asking him how tight I was and how hard I was squeezing him and asking me how stretched I felt and checking that it felt good, and she would ask him to hold out just a little longer in the same breath, just hold on, just hold on, which was also driving me wild, because she knew darn well I was shaking hard in almost climax waiting for his batch to hit me.

Becca told James to wait, wait, wait, do it. At hearing “do it,” he thrust tight into me immediately, and the enormous pressure and thrust of his batch knocked me into a wrenching climax around him. My legs shot out and shook in their insemination dance as I shrieked my guts out loud enough to wake the dead and spunk after hot spunk from James hit me deep and overflowed me.

On Saturday, there were problems in the barnyard, and I arrived at the field house late. They were all roaring drunk by then, with Abe actually passed out, head on the table snoring. Bert grabbed me roughly by the arm and, laughing, yelled in my face YOU’RE LATE! The stink of his breath was awful. He opened the door to their corral, and there was a very innocent looking, very hairy big dog. The dog was asking with his eyes, do you have any food?

Bert continued that they heard from somebody, not mentioning whom, that she did it with a dog, and that during it, she had howled just like she did here when a man was doing her and she had her pleasure. Was that the honest truth? Did I have pleasure with a dog? The men were gathering around me laughing by then, but mostly still drinking and drunk, but listening to the salacious question and awaiting my answer.

I considered lying, but I had lived around men like this my whole life, and they had a code. Generally, they prided themselves on mercy and even deference to a woman, especially when not drunk. But if you lied to them, or if you back talked them or fought them or bit them, there would be no mercy for you. I had to face the matter squarely that all men were my masters on this farm, even these drunk out of their minds madmen.

I said I was so sorry I was late, and Bert said ANSWER THE QUESTION! I looked at my shoes and said yes, sir. The chortling, roughhousing men drowned my answer out. WHAT’S THAT? Shouted Bert. Yes, sir, I repeated. SHE SAID SHE DOES! The men all cheered, save Abe, who was still passed out snoring.

Immediately they roughly tore off my bloomers, put me on my hands and knees, pulled up my dress, almost ripping it, and coaxed the dog over with a piece of meat. These fools, I thought, they think that any old dog would mount a girl. Well, let them have their fun trying while it lasted. They would tire of the game soon and let the dog and hopefully me as well go about our business.

They coaxed the dog to put his paws on me, probably with another piece of meat. I was guessing, because Aaron had his arm locked around my head to hold me down, and I couldn’t see anything. Then, to my surprise, I felt the tip of the dog’s dribbling cock hunt around a little, and with only a moment’s warning, it hit home and thrust deep into my cunny, nearly knocking the breath out of me. The men cheered loudly then, and the dog yanked out his dick “Oof!” I said, and ran and shied away. Bert said quiet down men! Let the animal do his work. Now that the dog had had a taste, after they quieted, he crept right back up on me, put his front paws on my back, thrust back in me nice and deep, and then cuddled up to me, his paws clutching me just below my breasts, and started to move excitedly in me and growl in pleasure and warning a little.

Now that he was in me, I wasn’t going to fight him. I told Aaron to get away or the dog would bite him. Aaron let me go and backed away. These numbskulls didn’t know what they were doing. They must have caught this mostly starving dog out in the fields somewhere. It must have escaped the dog yard, and so it had been trained to mate with a woman like the others. The men stayed quiet and pulled up chairs a safe distance away to watch the dog mate with me.

The dog was being as gentle and loving as a very excited dog who hadn’t mated in a long while and who now found a very tight wet cunny to poke could be. He whined in pleasure as he worked on me with his great big dog dick, bigger than the ones on the dogs I had had in the yard. It stretched my cunny and luckily constantly dribbled from the tip to ease the way. I groaned with a little climax as the dog continued his lusty work in me.

I could feel the dog’s knot start to grow and smack onto my cunny opening. I didn’t know if he could make it into me. I prayed the Lord he couldn’t. It smacked harder and harder on my lips, parting and opening me more and more. Then smack oof! It was in me, way, way too big and growing. I half whimpered and half groaned in climax as he locked me. His burning hot cum slammed like a giant flood into me, and we howled in pleasure together. This woke up Abe, who asked what the hell is happening, then immediately fell back asleep. Then the dog and I were still.

The men began to get bored. What’s happening now, Paul asked. The dog is locked in me and filling me with his seed, I explained. How long does it last? It depends, I answered. Maybe half an hour. Paul yawned.

After a while, the dog tuned around and tested the knot. He was in there firmly. By the time the dog gently popped out his knot and slunk away to lick himself, the men were all asleep and snoring. I washed myself in their washing area and washed off my dress, too. My bloomers had been torn to shreds. I slipped out of the field house and into the main house. Within a few minutes, Emma was warming me.

Sunday, 24 October 1880.

On Sunday, I said “fingers” instead of “hoo-hoo” to Philinda. Since she knows I have the field house on Saturday night, she was intrigued. Were you sick? Were they all passed out drunk? But I would not say any more about it.

At my Monday evening with Willard, he announced to me that my friend and James’s wife Rebecca would be joining our household for a year. I smiled but was secretly worried, too. Becca is a dear soul and I couldn’t stand her being hurt. I know she doesn’t really like men other than James, but they are so desperate to produce their first. I detected the slight leer in Willard’s face as he announced this. I would bet dimes to doorknobs Willard will put himself first in line at her.

His second announcement filled me with both extreme excitement and extreme dread. He was visiting Salt Lake City for several days next week, and he was bringing me, only me, with him for the voyage. I have never been off a farm before, certainly never to a big city, and I was so excited to hear I would be seeing one soon. The dread was all about what he might make me do while we were there with no Abe or Richard to protect me, or even an Emma to pound on the door and tell them they were overstaying their welcome. He started to butter me up then, which filled me with more dread. He told me we would be staying in a fancy hotel. He told me that he planned to buy me several beautiful dresses, and I asked him when would I wear them? He said in the evenings, at least with him, and also when we traveled. I could tell he was excited to show me all the sights. Maybe it would be okay. I swallowed hard and smiled back at him.

Then he said he had arranged and hoped I would agree to read some passages from my journal to a select audience during our visit. I said surely, I could read from my childhood, and he said no, the latest one, the one since our wedding. He asked me, didn’t I want an audience for my wonderful writing? I replied that I meant it only for my own remembrance. I didn’t mention that I had mostly used it so far for my own remembrance while touching myself. That part was private.

He asked me please as a special favor to him. I blushed and told him some passages talked about things that should not be mentioned in decent company. He replied that he knew this, and he assured me that this audience was sophisticated and learned, they had seen it all, heard it all, and read it all, and just wanted a real glimpse into daily life on our farm. I asked him how did he know about my journal.

He hastened to say that he could not read any of my chicken scratching (I think he can’t read at all), but Emma had told him she had looked into it, and used words like vivid, gripping, carnal, romantic, and thrilling to describe what she had read. I blushed deeper. I didn’t know how to feel about Emma looking in my journal. I suppose I wouldn’t have denied it to her, and also, it made me feel understood by her for her to describe it to others in this way. I could not feel angry about it.

He pleaded again, and I felt ashamed for the head of my household, my own husband, to have to debase himself so because of me, so I blurted a yes. He laughed and kissed both my hands. Then he led me to the bed and kissed me everywhere else, and then some.

In bed with Richard and Deirdre Tuesday night, after we were all exhausted from climaxing so much, they said they had something serious to discuss with me, but they are still planning it. They wouldn’t give me any clues! They said it was a surprise that they think will make me happy. They promise they will talk to me about it after my return from Salt Lake City.

On Wednesday evening, Sand and I started our lovemaking with William by getting naked together and holding hands as we had last time. When Sand was getting close the first time under William, I couldn’t help myself, and I leaned in and kissed her open moaning mouth, my tongue thrilling to feel the excitement in her mouth. At that moment, her breath caught, and she began to shake in climax. I latched onto her nipple, and William replaced me at her mouth, having entered his short strokes in her. Mouths locked, they shook in climax as I continued to suckle greedily on Sand’s ample teat.

A minute later, there were tears from Sand. She felt it was very wrong to have pleasure of another woman, but she had felt it. She cried for her immortal soul. I apologized for doing something she didn’t want. William argued it was just a little kissing between friends, but that didn’t make her feel any better. I felt guilty, because she had been clear she didn’t want anything but holding hands. I silently cursed my extreme lust for her body slowly reeling me in, and now I’d hurt her.

Then on Thursday Charles decided to introduce me to his wife Angela. She was a pretty one too, curse it, but I vowed because of how I’d hurt Sand the night before that they’d have to drag me into their bed and rape me to get me to touch Angela. Especially considering how reluctant Charles had been to even introduce us, I wanted to keep my distance and at least get the lay of the land. Perhaps in the future some venturesomeness might be indicated, but this would just be a cheery meeting of new friends, nothing more, I vowed.

After their little girl was asleep, we talked. This was the first time Charles had ever brought anyone from the household, Angela said. She had not seen any of Charles’s family since the wedding, though she visited with her birth family often still. I asked Charles why he hadn’t brought anyone around. Why there were wonderful couples like Richard and Deirdre for example. Charles said that Angela hadn’t felt comfortable until he had spoken to her about me. For some reason, she felt safe meeting me. I asked Angela why had she felt unsafe? Charles said to Angela, you can tell her.

As Angela began her story, tears burst from both her eyes and rolled down her face, followed by more tears, but her voice did not falter. Five years ago, about a week before her wedding day with Charles, the two families had held a yuletide feast to honor Charles and Angela’s upcoming wedding and the joining of their two powerful families. During the feast, the couple had been split apart, it being considered bad luck for the soon to be husband and wife to spend too much time together before the wedding. Angela found herself sitting next to Willard, and quite in awe of the powerful man. Willard kept pouring liquid from a hip flask into her punch glass. She knew it was whiskey, but she giggled and felt so grown up every time he did it, and kept taking sips of it and making faces, which delighted Willard. Soon Angela felt light headed and went to find some water to wipe her face with. Willard accompanied her to make sure she was right enough.

As soon as Angela spied a washbasin in a side room, she went into the room and started washing off her face with cold water. Willard shut the door behind them and pushed her up onto the bed. She was frightened but also dizzy, and kicked and complained, but Willard worked quickly and had her bloomers off and his face between her legs before she could stop him. After a few minutes of getting her cunny sucked and licked and being drunk besides, Angela was compliant. She was dripping wet from her cunny. Willard told her to bite on a towel and then thrust his dick up into her cunny in one quick stroke.

She screamed into the towel. There was terrible pain and blood. Willard continued to work, and in a few minutes spunked deep in her tortured cunny. Afterwards, resting in her, still causing her terrible pain, he told her that her family’s women were well known to have thick, hard-to-penetrate hymens that caused misery to both new husband and new wife, so, to spare the young couple this situation, and as an experienced cocksman who had broken many hymens, he had resolved to take it upon himself to break her hymen beforehand so that she and her new husband could enjoy conjugal bliss from their wedding night forward. Satisfied his task had been completed, Willard then slid out of her, wiped the blood off his cock as best as was possible, restored it to his trousers, and left the room. Angela felt shame and guilt afterwards and had not returned to the party.

After this tale, I said I fully understood why she would want to have as little contact with our family and especially Willard as possible. I told her that Willard had many perverse ideas, not the least of which was the rule. How did she feel about Charles helping to impregnate the wives of the household? Angela replied that it was the feelings of loneliness she had from not having Charles with her and knowing that instead he’s plowing some other woman. It made her feel lonely and alone while it was happening.

I told her that this was usually the night Charles was supposed to plow me. What should we do? She said that she had been very happy to meet me and felt I was a nice person and understood her. She had enjoyed talking with me and getting to know me, and hoped we could have more talks in the future. She told me that she should now go to bed with her husband, and there was a bedroll for me, pointing to a bedroll in the corner of the kitchen. She told me that I should be lonely for a change. What a relief! I replied.

They left me to the bedroll and to turn down the lamp in the kitchen. They went into their bedroom and shut the door. A few minutes later, my ear pressed to the door, I could hear by her sighs that Charles was at work with his tongue on her cunny. After I had almost fallen asleep waiting for a further development. Their bed rocking roused me, and her sounds indicated she was having great pleasure of Charles. I was happy, aimlessly happy to hear her sounds of pleasure. Then I went to the bedroll, turned down the light, and had myself a very good deep quiet sleep for a change!

On Friday evening, James, Becca, and I had a wild whiskey party to celebrate her coming to the main house. We all got too drunk and fell asleep practically before we had climbed into bed. No James for me this week!

Last night, Saturday night at the field house, it was shaping up to be the easiest field house yet, with them all dead drunk within a few hours after sundown. As usual, they had all been scrupulous to enjoy my cunny, bunghole, and mouth each at least once before falling into their stupor, but after that strenuous work on their behalf I had earned my well-deserved slumber and was comfortably tucked into Abe’s bed mostly asleep as they all drank their way towards lights out.

Then there was a terrible pounding on the door. Bert answered it. It was the field crew from the Higgins farm, ten men, come to help with our harvest starting tomorrow, but first, by invitation, here to have the whore, namely me. I was fully awake by then. Bert grabbed me up from Abe’s bed, and I started to cry and object. Abe was asleep snoring, his head on the table. It wasn’t fair, I said. They were dirty strangers, I said. Bert told our ten guests I had a point, and bade them wash off their road dust and any stink of the day before having me, and showed them to the wash area.

While they were all busy removing their clothes and washing, Bert led me around as I continued to struggle and object. When the first stranger appeared naked and dripping, he handed the stranger my arm and said you deal with her, and said they could use his bed if they wanted, or one of the tables, or the pony, whatever. Then Bert shuffled off and went back to drinking.

The stranger threw me down on Bert’s bed, spread me, thrust his dick in me, and went to work. I was frightened and sobbing softly by this time, my head turned away, trying to imagine this wasn’t suddenly happening to me. My forearm still hurt from being yanked around by Bert and then this stranger. I’m so hot-blooded though. God help me, my loins still thrilled with pleasure from the forceful stranger’s dick.

The first squirted in his batch, and I practically climaxed. He climbed off and the next immediately climbed on and started pumping in my runny cunny. I felt the Lord forsaking me as I climaxed and howled almost immediately for the second one. There was laughter from the strangers. The second stranger did not pause. I knew I was going to start climaxing helplessly for these strangers unless they started hurting me bad, waking the dead with my cries and driving them all wild with lust that might serve to kill me.

I was now having sixteen fairly drunken men at once. I prayed to the Lord to help me, or at least not hurt me. Then I started cursing John, who I knew must be at the root of this. I thought he had changed. I cried tears of betrayal and climaxed with a screech as the second one sprayed his seed hot and deep into me.

One stranger forced me after another as I loudly and repeatedly climaxed for them. They laughed, joked, and marveled among themselves as they waited their turns. Remarked one of them, she’s like a little virgin who’s never had it but doesn’t wear out, and the rest laughed.

During stranger number eight, Abe appeared, bleary, and shouted what in hell was going on? One of the strangers said we were invited to use the whore, and Abe replied angrily he hadn’t invited them. They laughed until Abe hit that stranger, the biggest of them, with his fist in the head, and the stranger fell down. Then everything got quiet. Even the man pumping inside me stopped and got out of me.

As the one who had been knocked in the head for insolence slowly revived, the strangers insisted they were just having fun, and hadn’t meant to start anything unpleasant. They acknowledged the extra men might cost extra to the whoremonger, and offered fifty cents apiece as compensation. That sounded low to me, but I kept my mouth shut, but also, the nerve of them! Negotiations ensued. Abe realized he couldn’t just kick out the other crew. They needed to sleep there on their bedrolls. It was settled that each of them would have a single poke at me and then I would be given back to the main house. In exchange, no extra money would be required.

Knowing that these would be my last three rides until Willard on Monday evening, I fairly enjoyed them. Abe stood by and petted my hair as the last three of them took their pleasure on me. It was not unpleasant, especially with Abe right there protecting me. I glanced at Abe often and howled in climax for the last three of them several times now that I knew I would not come to harm. The last one was thick, as thick as James, but I took him easily and climaxed for him several times. I suppose the others had loosened up my little mouse hole temporarily.

After the strangers were done, Abe grabbed me up, dressed me gently, made sure I had all my things, and walked me back over to the main house. It was all dark by then. I made my way up to my room in the dark, took off my spunk-filled bloomers and dress, got a rag for between my legs, and fell into bed with Emma, falling asleep almost immediately.
« Last Edit: November 08, 2020, 11:36:48 AM by Sweetums »

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Chapter 13: Salt Lake City

Wednesday, 27 October 1880.

Willard promised we would stay in the finest place in Salt Lake City, and he may be correct that we are in the finest suite of rooms in the city. They are finer far beyond anything I have ever seen before or even read about in books or imagined, much less wandered around in or touched them as I am today.

There is pink wallpaper everywhere and walnut everywhere else polished up to a shine, thick pink rugs of intricate design everywhere. There are giant picture windows. There are several huge pink beds in four bedrooms. There are giant stuffed pink chairs and chaises and settees. There are paintings on the walls everywhere so beautiful they are like to make me cry, mostly classical themes. There is a beautiful walnut pianoforte.

There are two giant rooms of easement here, no outhouses. These rooms are called salons of bath or salles de bain in French, and they have sinks and tubs where you can turn a tap and water will start flowing out of a spigot without pumping it. Turn another tap and hot water will flow out!

The potty has water in it. You do your business into the water, and then push a lever, and the water and your business all swirl and disappear down a hole. After the stink of just putting it out is gone, no stink is left over. This is a truly magical way to live! Perhaps I’m getting a little carried away, but, who do I have to spread my legs for to stay here forever? All this luxury is making my loins thrill fiercely, to be honest.

All in all, they are a suite of rooms like a palace for a princess. However, despite how sumptuous and thrilling our suite of rooms are, I was not born yesterday, even if I am from a small farm, and in fact, I am aware we are staying in a whorehouse.

A very elegantly dressed man came to our door early this morning with giant silver trays full of breakfast for at least four people. I am writing in my journal all alone here in this giant series of rooms still working away on some of those piles of food while Willard is out “doing business in town,” which I suspect is his way of saying “a few suites over putting loads of spunk in some very fine whores’ cunts.”

Doesn’t it say everything about about men in general that Willard, who has sixteen girls at home at his beck and call to spunk in day and night (including wives of participating sons) still seeks out a whorehouse to stay in? Excuse me, make that seventeen girls now including Becca.

And speaking of Becca, sure enough the very Sunday evening before we left, the very Sunday I was last writing in my journal, Becca arrived at the main house from James’s homestead, and as I had predicted, Willard had her all evening and all night long that very night. Emma directed me at dawn to fetch him from Becca’s temporary room, the same guest room I had stayed in before Emma, to start our wagon ride to Provo Monday morning. I glimpsed her still asleep in the bed, looking pale and spent.

I was able to do a few things for Becca before leaving. Willard would not relent on letting Franklin have her one evening, at the same time assuring me Franklin was on his best behavior now. She would be spared Saturday night with the field crew. Instead, she would see them Monday night instead of my dear Beth, and Beth would also be saved from Saturday to do Thursday with the crew for Philinda, and Philinda would take the crew Saturday night while I was gone in Salt Lake City. At least Philinda likes men and has managed to handle that crew before on Saturday nights.

It took us a day of hard riding by wagon, stopping only a few times to water the horses, to make it to Provo. There we had a rough room in an inn that in my opinion held far too many spiders. Monday is my usual night with Willard, and have me he did. For a man of fifty, his energy, especially for procreation, appears boundless. Luckily, my desire for climaxes is also boundless, so even though I don’t trust him, in fact I probably don’t even like him, we together form a kind of symbiotic relationship, at least in the bedroom.

From Provo, it was an easy ride to Salt Lake City yesterday. We arrived in the late afternoon at this incredibly fancy whorehouse we’re staying in. Willard was greeted like a king, for clearly they knew him, and I was greeted like a princess. Although I was treated with great dignity officially, I was paraded in my simple farm dress past a long double row of busty women in sumptuous silk dresses and jewels and fancy paint on their faces. For the most part, they looked hostile and sneered at me. It made me feel like the dirt off the end of Willard’s boot.

Luckily, I was soon past them, and shut in my castle as described above. Willard disappeared immediately. That evening, with still no sign of Willard, I longed for my regular visit with Richard and Deirdre terribly that night. Eventually I was able to calm down to an uneventful and deep sleep. Willard only arrived back for breakfast momentarily before heading out on “business” again this morning, as mentioned already.

A silk dress has just arrived for me along with a tailor to fit and adjust it. I will write the rest as soon as I have time later.

Wednesday, 27 October 1880 (later)

I have too much food here again, my bottom is very sore, as I’ll explain below, and Willard is again nowhere to be found. Good riddance, I say, because direct after the dress was finished and on me, and a glorious sight it is in the mirror, Willard fetched me down with him to an odious task.

It was glorious to walk by all those cheap whores downstairs again, for I outshone them all this time, even with no face paint. A few girls smiled and waved at me, and I waved back at them graciously. Most looked on enviously. Willard and I then walked through the town, me with a cute parasol that came with the dress. It was such a loud and busy place, with carts, horses, and men rushing around everywhere.

We came to a storage yard for grain. A friendly looking man and his neighborly wife greeted us there. They were middle aged, round, cherubic, and jolly, the man of medium height, and the wife not much taller than me. We went to a little shack in the corner of the yard that was fitted like a little cabin, with a stove, a desk, a bed, and a washbasin.

There, Willard said to the man, you agree to the discount, then? The man then stepped up to me and pawed me indelicately. I pushed him away, incredulous. The man said, yes definitely, appreciatively. Willard said, maybe I should have asked for more. The man replied that they had a deal, but he was feeling grateful, so he would throw in his wife “during.” The wife smiled shyly and started unbuttoning Willard’s trousers.

The wife got onto her knees and started sucking Willard’s dick up to hardness while Willard got out a small pouch and started counting out more paper money into the round man’s hands than I had ever seen in my life, far more paper money! Some of the bills I didn’t even recognize, because I had never seen them before. All this while the wife was sucking away on Willard contentedly, her face flushing as she choked herself a little on him.

Once the money had changed hands and the round man had stuffed it away, he looked at me greedily, sat me down on the bed, and got under my pretty dress. He slid my fancy silk bloomers down, and I guess they were already stained with a little wet, because he exclaimed, she’s already ready! Willard replied, she’s always ready. The man’s tongue and lips locked on my cunny greedily and started slurping noisily.

A bump under my dress was making pleasure down there, and I supposed life could be worse. The man was not dirty or scary, just round and jolly. I could handle this. I could cry about being put to work as a deal sweetener in privacy later. I looked over to Willard, who was enjoying himself in the woman’s mouth and hand. He was looking down at her, and she had her eyes closed and looked like she was enjoying the novelty of another man’s dick in her mouth, and had her other hand up under her skirt playing with her cunt, no doubt, though I only could see a lot of frills gently rustling.

I couldn’t hold off any longer, and climaxed with a groan. The round man stood up and started fussing with his pants. I wanted him by then and kept my legs spread for him. Willard was laying the wife on the bed tight beside me, and she wiggled onto the bed and giggled as Willard lay her down.

We looked close into each other’s eyes and smiled politely. She said don’t be scared, honey dip, my husband is a nice man. I replied thank you for your kindness, ma’am, because it seemed like the polite response despite the strange social situation, and her jolly round face was right there kissing distance away from me. Willard was fussing with the wife’s things as the round man entered me and started adjusting his way into me. He was not big, but his belly was, so it took him some adjusting and more adjusting to get fully into me. He was still standing up, because his belly was in the way of him leaning down over me.

As her husband started up in me, Willard started to enter her, and I could see she was already worked up and ready for it. Her eyes fluttered closed and her face suffused with passion as he started his motions in her. I think I actually heard her cunt slosh as he did it. Her enjoyment thrilled through me a little. I looked at the husband, and his face reminded me of the contented boar’s, and I giggled, and then thought momentarily of Richard’s feel in me.

The wife began sighing louder and louder with each of Willard’s pokes, her eyes still closed, concentration on her brow. She was working up to something. I was enjoying watching her face and also my contented boar’s face. Willard looked a little stern looking between the woman and me, and I didn’t like it, so I tried to avoid looking back at him.

Then the woman started to climax with a long moan, and I could hear her cunt sloshing at the same time too. With this, the man strained into me and I felt a good-sized emission flooding into me. Now I really was his sow! I thought, and we smiled at each other. I enjoyed making him happy, and I was touched that his wife’s excitement with Willard had obviously affected him. Despite the detail that I was being used as chattel, I was enjoying being a part of this nice jolly couple’s exciting carnal adventure.

Willard plowed the woman with increasing conviction, and she was breathing hard again and getting up to another one. My boar and I were both watching the wife’s face as his dick softened in me. Her enjoyment was so pretty on her. I leaned over to give her a peck on the lips. My boar’s dick fell out of me. The wife’s eyes opened in surprise at the kiss and she smiled at me and between hard breaths told me, you are the cutest thing. Then she immediately started a long squealing climax “heEeeEeeEeeEeeEen!” with thrills at each of Willard’s thrusts.

I sat up and took my silk drawers from my boar’s hand and used them to stem the drips from my cunny. Then I got on my knees, hoping I wasn’t dirtying my new dress too much, and grabbed his prick and started stroking it in one hand, smiling up at him. Since Willard was still working away, I was curious whether I could get the husband close again and get him to spill in me again as his wife climaxed. It had been such a delicious feeling, and I wanted it again.

I sucked the man up fairly quickly, and then gobbled it and let my throat choke and thrill on it a little. My boar fairly squealed to Willard, the child is a wonder! Willard chuckled, that she is, and you’re getting extra, I hope you’re grateful. My boar just sighed and made a groaning noise in response. The wife climaxed again with a long shout, “haaaaaaaaaah!”

My boar was close, so I stopped swallowing him and scampered back onto the bed. I grabbed the woman’s hand to better gauge her closeness, and this gesture seemed to excite her some. She was coming up to another one soon. My boar fumbled momentarily, but then hit home into my runny cunny and started pumping it into a messy froth. I judged her closer than him, so I looked into his eyes and held my knees apart low and wide for him, giving him the obvious message to breed me with all haste.

As his wife climaxed again with a tortured moan, I felt his first excited squirt, and I started a big, wet, howling, shaking climax that overtook me and my senses entirely. I came to my senses a moment later and the men were laughing, with Willard saying, I guess we all went at once, and praising the man for getting such a sound out of me. No reason not to butter him up for next time, I thought. I might as well pitch in, I thought with extreme impishness, so I asked Willard, can I be the lagniappe next time too, dear father?

The husband and especially the wife then got a look of horror on them. Willard quickly said to me with tremendous seriousness like death, tell them you’re lying, Athalia. I responded, yes, sir, I am lying, and I’m very sorry I lied. He looked like he was like to kill me, and the mood had turned very serious. Tell them the truth then, he prompted. I responded, yes, sir, I am your legal wife, sir.

Back at the whorehouse, I cried out as the final of five lashes from Willard’s belt struck my bare bottom. Then he left again. My bottom would be bruised and blistered for a week, but I considered myself lucky. Most of the way back here, he looked ready to choke me to death. That look of horror on those nice people’s faces was something. I wonder whether they’ll do business with Willard again, what with the uncertainty of it. I’d better not do it again, though, ever. Willard had given me fair warning with the belt lashes, and he was a hard man. He would not bear me messing around in the middle of his dealings.

Thursday, 28 October 1880.

Yesterday evening, I gave my first reading to a crowd of about thirty respectable-looking personages, both men and couples. Just before the reading, I got my courses. Luckily a girl was there to help me with my dress, and she had a rag handy for me, so there was little fuss about it. It cut me deeply though, and I cried some tears, not from the pain, there was no pain.

It was from my expectation, especially having gone so long without one, that I had caught immediately, and a child was already growing inside me. Now that expectation was dashed, at least to then, and I had a tear. I scolded to temper myself and not be so expectant. Had I really desired those monsters from the neighboring farms or Franklin to put a child in me? I should be glad I did not catch. But I didn’t feel glad.

I entered the lecture hall and was led to the middle of the room so the crowd was arrayed all around me and so they could clearly hear my voice. As the people were seated, lamps were turned down, and most of the room grew dark. There was candlelight still illuminating me to the crowd and allowing me to read from my journal and see those few seated closest to where I was standing.

I began with the journal entry of my wedding night. When I got to the part where I wrote that I hear I am beautiful, a man gently said from the darkness, hear, hear, and there was a smattering of light applause, and I blushed and had to recollect myself for a moment before I could continue.

When I got to the part that said Willard acted like a cat ready to eat me, and that I turned out to be not far from wrong, there was a smattering of laughter, and I expected they knew what was coming in the story. All my cat analogies went over very well as I recall. When I described the sound I made during my first climax as like a pig being slaughtered, they liked that too, and laughed.

When I got to the part where I promised Willard I would scream for him, a woman from the darkness begged me to scream out like I do when I climax. I thought about it for a moment, and then said I didn’t think I could do it, not unprovoked. There was laughter at this answer. Then the woman begged me to just try, and there was much applause approving this notion, so I said, okay, I will try.

I closed my eyes, stood with my legs apart some and pointed my face up towards the ceiling, because that’s usually the way my body is when I do it, except lying down of course. Then I tried. The first time, it caught in my throat, but I cleared my throat, and then immediately put out a pretty good howl. The audience clapped like mad and said “brava!” which means I did it well.

I was giggling up a storm after that as the cheering died. I wiped the tears of mirth from my eyes, collected myself, and continued. The audience was quiet except for some rustling as I described being penetrated by Willard’s dick for the first time. As I shouted out the other sounds I had actually written down in my journal, the audience clapped politely after each one. The cheering of my audience was like the cheering of the wedding party as it was happening, except this audience was being a lot better behaved, or so I thought.

I heard more rustling as I described Emma cleaning out my bunghole for the first time and preparing it for Willard. I imagined the crowd was growing restive and squeamish.

I halted my narrative to explain to them that I am a livestock expert, and so I spoke plainly about such things, and did not mean to offend, but that I knew such things could be hard for people unfamiliar with animal husbandry and such things to tolerate, so I apologized to them.

A woman from the darkness told me no, dearest, that’s what we are loving so much about your rendition, its honesty, its forthrightness, and she begged me continue and promised the crowd would not shrink from my frank descriptions. So I continued.

There was quite a laugh when I said Willard explained his desire for my bunghole by saying he should leave no stone unturned. When I described how the Lord gave me a climax from Willard’s exploration of my bunghole, I woman in the darkness shouted amen! The crowd was riveted but still restive, rustling in the darkness. There was a nervous laugh about some of my sister wives being suspiciously easy for Willard to take up the backside on their first nights. There were a few titters of laughter as I described bothering an exhausted Willard to allow me to service him. Applause greeted me ending the first journal entry. I felt so proud. I felt so understood.

I started on the journal entry about John. There were understandable expressions of shock, mutterings and rumblings as I read to them what I had written about the rule. By the time I had finished the explanation Emma had given me, the crowd had quieted down, but was still rustling, restive.

There was nervous laughter when I read about upchucking on John, but it was cut short when I described how he hit me. I lifted my hair and showed them the faint bruise from the bedpost still on the side of my head. From the darkness, a woman exclaimed, poor dear! Her sympathy warmed me. Perhaps it would be enough punishment for John just for me to simply and honestly tell and show the world what he did.

When I got to the part where John burned my breast with the cigar, there was an intake of breaths and groans from the audience. One woman whimpered darling! I had moved them. A woman asked softly, child, show us. I stopped and replied, it wouldn’t be proper. Another woman from the darkness argued, we should see the evil he did. I remembered at that moment something Deirdre had said when she saw it, that it wasn’t the wound, it was the evil that did it. A man from the darkness said it would be a sin if the evil act of this rapscallion remained unseen!

I was still dubious about baring my breasts to this room of mostly men, but also I felt the pull to be understood and for my life and this evil to be deeply known. These were sophisticates, I thought to myself, doctors and the like, no doubt. I resolved to do it. So, I started unbuttoning the front of my dress. Two women from the audience kindly stepped forward to help me. Soon the upper part of my fancy dress was down to my waist and my breasts were exposed, including the remains of the cigar burn. There were more sympathetic sounds from the audience, and also much rustling, presumably shifting position to get a good look at the evil, I figured.

Since my breasts were already exposed and the room was quite warm and close by this time, I decided to continue with my narrative without further delay. People were not happy about John. As I read about him buggering me, a man said, oh the devil! The audience was clearly moved, and very uncomfortable to hear me read of my torment. I had to stop when I got to the part about John being whipped, because there was cheering. The reaction of the audience was overwhelming to me.

Eventually they quieted, and I finished the entry about John and moved on to the chapter about Richard. There was a loud yip from a woman in the darkness when I read the phrase, what an evening I just had. I got a big smile on my face from that and couldn’t stop smiling. I suppose it was immediately obvious how smitten I was with Richard as I lovingly narrated our meeting, his distaste for the rule, our excited wordplay, and his whisking me off to his homestead like a prince stealing away a princess.

When I impishly described me demanding that he put his finger in my cunny and him doing it, I felt the crowd restless, hanging on my every word. As I described how it got serious, and how he said “fell” and then I said “fell,” I heard women out there with breathing all aflutter with the romance of it. I kept reading as matters moved into the bedroom. I read about waking the children and my tears, but mostly I lingered on the passages about the feeling of Richard thrusting inside me.

When I read about my mutual climax with Richard and Deirdre’s climax and our first kiss, the audience was panting, and so was I. I could feel my wet had come down. The audience was restless with the passion of it. As I lovingly described Richard’s first taking of my bunghole, the crowd froze suddenly and also I felt something touch my dress, and lowered my journal to see that a very distinguished looking man sitting right next to me had his dick out and had just shot two good loads of spunk onto my dress. The crowd was obviously horrified but still restless. I backed up a step from him and stared darkly at him for his impertinent interruption.

Reginald you base ruffian, muttered a woman from the darkness, you must correct this insult immediately! Reginald smiled at me meekly for his part and solemnly promised he would buy me a new dress the very next day finer than the one he just soiled, and that he was awfully sorry, but was moved so passionately by her story he couldn’t restrain himself. He was trying not to soil his pants, but missed the floor, he explained.

Considering the dress I had on would be fine after a wash and he had just promised to buy me a new one, I tried to think of something polite to say to break the awkwardness of the moment so that I could move on with my reading. I blurted out “Thank you for your, uh, contribution,” thinking about his generous promise of a new dress, but the audience laughed, and I immediately realized I had made a joke, they thinking I meant his spunk. The awkward moment was broken by laughter at any rate, and I got back to my reading.

When the reading was concluded, I was led from the room with applause and loud cries of “brava!” following me out into the hall. The floor was sticky on my way out, and the men I had a glimpse of as I brushed by them were protecting their laps from my sight. My guess that Reginald was not the only offender was thereby verified. Should I be offended that my story and perhaps the sight of my bare breasts had so moved them? I decided it shouldn't, not any more than my own climaxes should from reading the same journal.

My dress was still down to my waist with two strong globby lines of spunk scoring it at the knee. The girl who was minding me took me back to my suite and took the dress from me to be washed. Willard was nowhere to be found. I looked at the leftover food but was not hungry. I had myself a warm bath with suds. I remembered my courses and put on some bloomers with a nice big rag in them since this would be my flood night. Then I crawled into one of those giant pink beds and drifted off to a sleep of pure blissful luxury.

In the dead of night, Willard woke me by starting to fuss with my bloomers. No! I complained sleepily, I have my courses and my flood tonight! Willard said sorry ma’am, very polite and disappeared. As I drifted back to sleep, I startled awake and realized it hadn’t been Willard. I stumbled in the dark to the door of the suite, said bugger Willard out loud, threw the bolt, and staggered back to bed.

I awoke to Willard pounding on the door of the suite. There was the fancy man with breakfast waiting there too. I got up and let them in. He said what’s the meaning of locking me out, and I said there was an interloper in here last night that accosted me in my bed and tried to take off my bloomers. He grumbled but said nothing to that. He ate some of the breakfast that was delivered with him and then left. And here I am writing this all in my journal.

My flow is mostly over now. It comes in a big flood at the beginning, and I did have some discomfort last night and this morning. From here, it’s usually just a few spots of red here and there.

Friday, 29 October 1880.

Willard returned in the afternoon, this would be yesterday afternoon, after I had finished writing in my journals and was enjoying some lovely chocolates sent over by Madame Clothilde, the proprietor of this establishment and a fine and still striking middle-aged lady. She and I are becoming fast friends. She adores my readings! I actually asked her who I would have to spread my legs for to stay here indefinitely, and she laughed and said she would discuss it with Willard, but I shouldn’t expect anything. She tried to buy Bathsheba away from him five or so years ago, and he would not accept any affordable amount to hand her over.

After I was all dressed and pretty, Willard dragged me across town to a yard that sold fruit saplings. I asked him, you’re becoming an orchardist now? He responded, it’s just a few trees to try out the idea. When we got there, I realized he had gotten the man to agree to give him 25 saplings of various fruits for “free” in exchange for a poke at me, provided I was all Willard claimed.

I was apparently pretty enough, because no sooner than the man, a middle aged fit man, clearly a farmer, said here are the 25 saplings, and Willard said here’s the girl, the man reached for my hand and led me into a toolshed nearby that had a bed in it. Willard started loading his new saplings into his wagon as I was led away.

The man sat me down on the bed and began reaching to fuss with my bloomers. I paused him with my hand but I was afraid. If I messed in Willard’s business dealings again, he would truly kill me this time, or at best, whip me so badly I would wish I was dead. Yet, I had my flow, which this man would find out momentarily. I decided I would not say anything, I would just show him. So I took off my own bloomers, which had a rag with just a little dab of blood on it. Not bad. Now he knew.

He asked me was it my time, and I said yes, sir. He asked me how bad, and I said, this in the last hour, sir. You would be my first man since it started, the first man I ever had during my flow. How long since you were virgin, he asked. A month and a half, sir. I’m not squeamish, he replied. Could you show me, he asked. I put my heels up on the bed, lifted my dress, and spread for him, pushing my hips forward so he could see it.

He said, you are so beautiful, and your cunt has the merest touch of blood as I see. I’m terrible stiff for you and want you, blood or no blood. He began touching my button. It felt extraordinary. I could feel right away that my body wanted him, too. He also seemed a worthy man to me, one I should encourage according to my own creed. What’s your name, I asked. Philip, he said. I’m Athalia, I said. We shook hands like he was not already gazing at my cunny. I giggled at this.

He put his mouth down on my cunny and licked and sucked around the button. My body practically exploded with joy when he started. I blurted out God bless men who are not squeamish! He stopped and laughed until I whimpered, don’t stop! He locked back on, and I grabbed his head with both hands and ground it to me while starting a howling climax in a wheeze of no breath left. He said, your husband will hear. I shouted, LET HIM HEAR! Ohhhhhh…

He pampered me with his tongue and mouth, but I knew he was urgent, so soon I panted to him to get in me. As he was getting out of his trousers and I out of my dress, I asked him, was it bad? He said not at all, just a little taste of iron. Then he was on me, and thrust in me, and stretched me out nice, but not too much. I relaxed, because I always worry when a new man gets into me. They all look far too big to me still. There was some blood then, but we didn’t care.

He didn’t last long in me, but it was delightful, and I climaxed for him when I felt his nice warm batch. I made it a big loud happy yell, which is how I felt. He had some clean rags in the shed for us to wipe up with. We were both covered down there in a veneer of dried blood that wouldn’t come off except with spit, and we didn’t have that much spit, so we gave up. I told him that he was a thoroughly delightful man, and he said he would marry me on the spot if I wasn’t already taken. Our clothes restored as reasonable as we could make them, we gave each other a final hug and left the shed.

As I drove away with Willard, waving back to Philip, Willard commented, so you had a good time. I replied, yes, sir. Please buy trees from Philip with my cunt anytime. Willard grumbled and told me a lady shouldn’t use that word, which I knew he was going to say, which is why I used it.

Willard left me in the suite, and I took a long hot bath to help with my cramps, which were more than usual, perhaps because Philip had shaken my tree of life down there. There was a knock on the door, which I immediately thought, more chocolates from Clothide! But no, it’s a very officious looking tailor, not a seamstress, with my new dress from Reginald. I said, I’m just in my towel, and he said, that is just as well, because he will need to see me naked. He said it with such authority that I just shrugged and let him in.

I stood there naked. He, with finger to chin, walked around me, examining me. I stood there impatiently, and finally asked, what was he doing. At that, he spanked me hard on one bottom cheek, and I yelped, and asked again what was he doing. He said he needed to see how firm my bottom was so that he could make the dress fall properly in the back.

Then he pressed one finger into my cunny and drew it back with a little blood on it. You’re bleeding, he told me disgustedly. I replied that I had noticed that. When he returned from washing off his finger in the sink, he said I would stain my new dress. I replied that there were such things as rags. He said very well and handed me a pair of new silk bloomers in my size. I fetched a rag and put the rag and the bloomers on.
He then put my new dress on me and fitted it quite ably. The rest was uneventful, other than for each our mutual disgust for the other.

This evening, I started my reading by saying we would start off where we left off the last time as best we could. I woman, I think it was my friend Giselle, said from the darkness, show your burn mark, show it proudly. I said okay and proceeded to do a little dance to get my dress top down to my waist. There were a few chuckles and giggles at my squirmy dance and then light applause when I stood before them bare naked from the waist up and picked up my journal again.

A gentleman exclaimed from the dark, you’re beautiful! More light applause. I bowed. We began with the passage where Willard mortified me by questioning me about the men I had been with so far, whether they spunked in me, whether I climaxed well with them, whether they had used my mouth or my bunghole, and so forth.

After I described my philosophy of whether to have a man or not, a gentlemen from the darkness pleaded, I’m a nice man! And there was light laughter at this. I blushed a little and continued.

When I started to describe how I lay with Abe in the field the first time, there was rustling that I knew was men and probably women starting to play with their nethers while listening to my story. In fact, I could see that men close to me who were in semi dark, some were stroking their trousers, some had their dicks out.

When I started to describe how William had me straight after Abe and then Abe again after William, there were some sounds of mild distress from a few of the women, it sounded like. Either they had been frightened by my description, or perhaps, as I did, they craved and wet for being taken by a string of men. At any rate, I pressed on.

As I read about the rest of my evening with William and started to talk about Charles, I felt a man reach under my dress from behind. It seemed fairly circumspect, because the crowd didn’t remark on it. All he did was caress my naked calf with the palm of his hand, just lazily rub it and stroke it, almost absent-mindedly as he no doubt listened to the story. It was not disturbing to me. Actually, it felt like he was lending me the strength to tell my tale. I pressed on.

When I got to the part where Charles began to gamahuche me, the man’s hand moved from my calf to seize my inner thigh excitedly. This disturbed my reading when I was saying, “…Charles’s mouth and tongue instantly splashed forward into my open cunny. HUH!” The audience thought the exclamation was for effect, though, so their concentration was not broken by the man’s transgression. The man belonging to this strange hand was no doubt being deeply affected by the tale, as was I.

As we got to the part where Charles gave me whisky, a man from the audience came up and handed me a shot of whisky. It seemed polite, so I knocked back the whisky, gave him back the empty glass, and pressed on. The man was lazily rubbing my inner thigh now, as he had been my calf, but it was affecting me much more directly, and my legs were starting to shake a little because it felt so good and it was just so lazy and continuous as I read. His hand became a bigger and bigger distraction and quite began to torture me. I thought of moving away from his hand by stepping forward, but I didn’t want to move away.

While I was describing how I learned from Charles how to relax and have a dick in my throat, the man’s hand moved up to rest on the rag over my cunny. When he did this, I said “GAH!” but again, the audience just thought it a part of the story. He began to rub lazily on my cunny through the rag. My eyes were starting to cross from the exertion of maintaining my place in the story, my balance, and not having a climax right there in front of everybody.

I started to look ahead in the story to the next part where I had a climax and hope I could make it to that part of the story before I actually climaxed. I figured, maybe I can make having a climax in front of all these people seem a part of reading the story. I said, “I’m sure I woke the whole house with my howls, OWWWWWWW!” and actually climaxed in front of them. There was a nervous laugh from the audience because I had made such a loud noise all of the sudden. My friend the hand was retreating some as I caught my breath. After another moment’s pause, I pressed on.

As I spoke about James’s philosophy, the stranger’s hand slowly crept back up my leg. As I read, the stranger’s hand began to rub on my cunny rag again. There was a general rustling in the room by then, and somebody accidentally knocked over the candle I was reading by. It sputtered out on the floor, and the room fell completely dark. This was just as I, in my narrative, had said "make me" to James and awaited punishment at his hand. My reading could not have had a more dramatic end, so I am grateful for that. I could read no more, and shut my book. Pandemonium erupted in the room as darkness fell.

The man belonging to the hand stood up behind me and moved his groping hand around my leg and down into my bloomers to plunge a finger into my cunny. At the same time, his other hand held up the back of my dress, and I felt his bare dick rub excitedly on my bloomers. He whispered to me, “darling, I must spend on you.” I whispered back fiercely, “You’ll soil my new dress.” He answered helplessly, “I’ll buy you another.”

With that, he held down the back of my bloomers and painted my bottom with spurt after spurt of his hot spunk. It thrilled me, and I wish it could have been up inside me either front or back, but I was still transfixed as it cooled and settled into my rag or overflowed and ran unimpeded down both my inner thighs and the back of my legs. When he released me, I was overcome and shaking near climax. Somebody opened the door and light poured into the room.

The giant doorman spotted me and hustled me out the door and back to my suite. I believe he thought I was terrified, but actually I was very close and shaking, hoping he would take me and extinguish my torment with a big batch. I whimpered for him, but he seemed to not get the message. He is huge, and originally from some island in the Pacific Ocean, I heard. He is taller than Willard and massively muscular like to fill a room, and one side of him, as I can see, is covered in some intricate tattoo. His name is Mauga, or close to that. I think he must have a very, very big batch. It was all I could think of as he carried me, shaking, bare to the waist, and covered and dripping with the other man’s spunk, to my suite. I somehow kept hold of my journal the entire time.

Willard was not in the suite. I wiggled out of my spunky dress and bloomers and called the girl to wash it. Not much blood on my rag. I had a big warm bath to wash off. I climbed into bed and cursed not having had a man spunk in me since Philip, and that had been far too brief. Tonight was my usual night for Charles, and Angela had kept him from me the week before, so my loins were aching and burning to feel his tongue on me and his cock deep in me. I said out loud curse all men, and curse especially Mauga. I put a towel under me to catch any stray blood and soothed myself, then, the way Deirdre had taught me to, and thought of her, and Beth, and Emma, and Sand, and Becca, my girls. Then I could sleep.

I awoke when a man, lean and muscular, not Willard, younger, cuddled up to me in the dark. I asked, who are you? He said I didn’t know him. Then I asked him how then is it right for his dick to be hardening against my thigh? He moved away and said he has been worshipping me from afar. He said maybe he should turn up the lamp so they could make proper introductions. I asked him if he was ugly, and he said others had called him handsome. I said then especially, keep the light down for now, because I should want to know his heart before anything else, else I be swayed improperly. He sounded amused when he said I was a wise young lady.

I asked my visitor of the darkness whether he was a good man. He answered it was for others to judge, and I thought that answer wise enough. I asked him to name a good thing he had done, and he said he had killed a cattle rustler, shot him through the lungs. I asked him whether he killed the man in cold blood, and he assured me no ma’am, the cattle he stole were right there at the time. His answer sounded dubious good to me, but I pressed on.

Was he an able man? What was an able thing he had done? He said he had won the table at poker last night. One of the players had been Willard, which is how he got the key. This made me giggle. Any man who puts Willard in his place makes me immediately wet. I asked how much money did Willard lose, and he answered not much, because much of his wager had been the key, for a few men at the table were sweet on me. Each man had put it against $10. I felt relieved that he could not see me blush in the dark.

I had made up my mind then, but decided to taunt him. Could he put a batch up me at least twice in a row? He answered with excitement that he thought he could, and he reached out in the dark and started touching my breast. Would he try to do more times if I asked for it? He answered he would. I asked would he stay the night and rouse me as he was able to put batches in me? He promised breathlessly yes. I said then turn up the light then. He was very handsome, maybe thirty. His name was Brent.

I asked him if he had seen my readings, and he said, yes, both of them. I asked him if he had spunked for me then, and he assured me he had, both times. He then mentioned to me that my leading questions were making him terribly urgent, so I had him fulfill his promises to me, which he did very ably, and I climaxed for him with my best loud wet howls many times that night, and also twice in the morning. I think he nearly killed himself on me, which suited me fine in my mood. It was just what I needed to like men again.

Saturday, 30 October 1880.

Here’s an interesting economical morsel: a poke in my cunny is worth a 150-pound anvil. This was confirmed by a burly man who smelled like coal in a shop near the middle of town. As his apprentice helped Willard load the anvil into our wagon, the burly man led me to the back where there was a bed. This man was not friendly, and I could see he brooked no nonsense. He told me pray remove my bloomers, and I did so. He asked me, what did I think was about to happen?

Since he was asking me, and since he did not impress me, I said that I thought he was going to grease up his dick and spunk up in my bunghole. His eyes widened a little, and he said I had read his mind for sure. He took his dick out of his trousers, and it looked a little scary for back there especially. He rubbed it with some grease, and it got slightly scarier. Then he turned me around, bent me over the bed, flipped up my dress, and worked his dick into my bunghole.

Once he got it in there, it was a bit sizable, and I was breathing deep to relax and open for him. He started moving, and after a while it was fine other than the occasional poke or pinch. He moved faster and faster and was making little grunting and groaning noises. It began to stink of my backside and a little of my wet in the close little room. Finally, he let out a deep moan of release, and I felt his emission. Almost immediately he withdrew. As he replaced himself, I put my bloomers and rag back on, and that was that. He had made me a little wet, but had not moved me, really.

Willard drove the wagon back to Mme. Clothilde’s and left me at the door. When I arrived at the door of my suite, I found a very bright-eyed old seamstress there by the name of Betty with the most beautiful deep red dress for me from “a secret admirer” whose name she insisted she could not divulge. I looked the very devil the moment she put it on me. I loved it! We had wonderful laughs between us, and when I told her the tale of the reading and the spunking that resulted in the gift of the dress, she blushed and practically laughed her guts out in parts. She said that my secret admirer had struck her so refined, so it tickled her to hear about the other side of him.

The audience hushed and applauded when I stepped into the reading room today. My new deep red dress fairly dripped of my feminine power and the power of my words, and the glorious women of the room all seemed to bow their heads gracefully to acknowledge my supremacy as the most stunning beauty present. Sitting close behind where I would be standing was a distinguished but awkward looking old man who was wiping tears from his eyes. I gathered that he was my benefactor, so I fairly danced across the room and hugged him dear. There was applause when I did this. It was clear he was a beloved member of the community.

I turned and stood proudly in front of him as the lamps were dimmed, leaving only two candles for me to read by. This evening, as I carefully stripped to my waist to avoid wrinkling my new dress, there was a small high table set in front of me that I could use as a kind of podium but would not obscure the audience’s view of my breasts, which I knew they enjoyed, and I knew I enjoyed showing them, given we had concocted together a reasonable excuse for it.

I backed up a little to repeat James’s order to me of “suck my dick woman” followed by my response of “make me,” then continued my narrative with James’s breakdown and inability to punish me. As I described our truce and night of joyous love, I felt my admirer run his hand up my leg under my dress and start caressing my thigh. He paid for this dress, which I absolutely loved, so I leaned forward onto the podium a bit to give him easier access to my cunny from behind. He could mess me up all he wanted as far as I was concerned!

I began the disturbing tale of my encounter with George. It was the perfect audience for this, and the perfect dress for me to be wearing to speak of the cusp between life and death and the terrible pleasures available within. Even my bare breasts rising and falling as I read the naked truth of it were perfect.

When I told George’s instructions to me, my admirer’s hand stopped cold on my leg, and the room sounded in the dark like it was bracing itself for another John. When I told of sucking George under the table and my pleasure at it, the room began to relax, and the stroking of my leg recommenced. There was a smattering of laughter when I called George a sick little toad-licker. There was uneasiness in the crowd as I described George pissing into my mouth and me letting it fall into the chamber pot.

When I described my fake climax for George while he buggered me followed by my real climax while he choked me and continued to bugger me, my admirer’s hand moved up to my bloomers, traversed them, and a single finger plunged into my wet cunny. He timed it perfectly, so I said, “…I started crying out, WOW! I thought pretty softly…” so my response seemed part of the story.

I continued the uncomfortable story as the strain of my excitement of one and then two slender fingers lazily pumping my cunny overtook me. I spoke of George’s tears, sobbing in compassion, ecstasy? Who could tell? I spoke of pleasure beyond the veil of life that George choked out of me, shaking in my whole body in present moment ecstasy.

When I began speaking of Franklin, the audience seemed to know immediately that things were taking a bad turn. My admirer’s hand crept down to hold my leg in support. The part about Franklin making me eat one of his turds received groans from the audience. One gentleman said, hear, hear to my part about contemplating killing Franklin.

When I moved on to my journal entry about the field house, my audience grew restless. My audience knew me by now, and this part had been foreshadowed, and also I think they could tell from the tone of my voice that both some embarrassing disclosures and plenty of excitement were coming up in my tale.

As began to describe the pleasure I felt from the men of the field house, I felt my admirer slip under the voluminous dark red dress he had bought me, pull down my silk bloomers, and thrust his excited tongue into my cunny. Luckily, I was again in a good passage, where I just said, “I know the climaxes they wrung from me, AAH! …by taking their pleasure of me, OOO!” and so forth. My legs really started to shake, so I was happy to partly be steadied by his mouth locked on my cunny and his hands firmly gripping and spreading my bottom cheeks.

I quickly had another climax on my admirer’s tongue while describing Emma’s climax from the field house men. I think the audience could not see what was happening to my nethers were getting the general idea of how much I was currently generally getting pleasured. There was a fair amount of rustling and sighing coming from my audience, too, so I suspected I was not the only one.

Suddenly, though, my admirer retreated as the lamps came up and Mme. Clothilde drew the evening to a close. The audience gave me a resounding round of applause and I thanked them with a look of, I’m sure, desperation because I needed a dick in me so badly. I looked around for a free one as the lights came up, but they were all hidden away too quickly. I took deep breaths as I carefully pulled on and buttoned up the top of my red dress again. By the time I had accomplished that, I was calm enough to walk back to my suite.

Willard was again nowhere to be found. I started to think he had bet and lost all my evenings when he handed over his key, which suited me fine if it meant more visits from Brent instead. I carefully doffed and hung my beautiful red dress, had a good soak in the tub, and tumbled into my giant soft pink bed. I put a towel under me in case Brent showed up later and shook a little blood out of me. I was terribly wound up, but I had already been pleasured on the outside plenty much that evening. All I craved was a dick in me, and since none were available in that moment, I drifted off to deep sleep.

I awoke a bit later when Brent called to me in the dark from my doorway, hey cupcake. Is that you Brent? I yawned. Yes it is, he said, and he said his dick was still mostly beat up from last night. I whimpered to him that I needed a dick really bad. He said, then it was lucky he invited two of his friends, worthy gentlemen both, to join us. I was quiet.

He apologized, then, that he had gathered only the three of them, seeing I had just been reading about being greatly pleasured in an evening by twice that number. He said that because of my questioning of last night, he wanted to bring only men who he thought would easily pass my questions, and so he had been extremely selective.

Keeping the room dark, because that had been my preference last night, he asked the first man to state his worthy qualities. The man sounded young, maybe still a teenager. I asked his age, and he said sixteen. I asked, and what have you done worthy? He answered that he chased off a band of Indians single-handed who were raiding his parent’s farm, and with only a Colt pistol. He’s something of a local legend, added Brent. I asked his name, and he answered Henry. I’m wet for him, I told Brent. Well, go see the lady, said Brent. Enjoy yourself, young man, said the other newcomer, there will be time for more introductions later.

There was a flurry of fussing with clothes by my bedside, and suddenly into my bed there bounced an exuberant-feeling wiry lad. We kissed and rubbed naked bodies together deliciously. He was cool but warming up, and I was almost too warm. I threw off the covers as much as I could. He sucked on my nipples a bit and kissed his way down my belly. I said, whoever taught this lad has my gratitude! Brent said he was sure Henry had been paying attention in my readings.

He was sloppy with his mouth all over my cunny. In the pitch dark, I led him to my bean with my finger, saying, here, here, ahh! That’s when he got it. I said I was ready then, but Brent said to Henry, keep going lad, you’ll know when she’s ready. The rat! I wanted Henry in me so badly already. I laughed and gasped, though, because he was a quick learner, and I grabbed his head, my legs started to shake, and I howled in full-throated climax. Then I whimpered, please.

Henry crawled up on me with great excitement while I spread my legs wide and low with equal excitement. He fumbled around a bit in the dark, so I guided him in with my hand. Gosh, he was excited. It felt great, too! I grabbed his bottom tight with my heels as soon as he was in. His dick was just right. He was a big, wiry, muscular lad for just 16, great to hold on to in the dark. I hope his face turned out to be handsome, too, but I knew already I would be sweet on him regardless. Oh the pumping! It was just what I needed. I started to huh, huh, huh, with Henry’s every stroke.

Then, all too soon, Henry strained and squirted hot into me, and another, and another, and that was about when I screamed my head off with a climax, and he kept shooting hot jets into me as I screamed, shook, and climaxed wetly for him. As soon as I was done climaxing, I said, oh gosh, that was just what I needed! I held Henry tight in me with my heels. Brent said from the other side of the room, you’re welcome. The other man chuckled. Henry was breathing hard, seemingly overcome. I asked, are you okay, honey? He then confessed I had just been his first.

Immediately, I hugged him with my arms, because I already had the rest of him tight to me with my heels, and told him he had done so well, and asked was he having a good time. He said yes breathlessly, like he was in love. I knew I should take some charge of this, so I told him he would do me again right away, but he could wait a little until he felt like he wanted to start again.

The other two men stepped out then, saying they wanted to give the young man some more privacy and also time with me considering, and also, they wanted to share a smoke. They had not known he was a virgin, and it was a special time in a man’s life, and they wanted to honor that. I shouted after them thank you and also to take their smoking out on the balcony and not stink up my rooms, please, and they promised they would as they left. I let Henry go and slide out momentarily onto the towel to catch everything, because he had been copious, and it was leaking out everywhere anyway. I turned up the lamp, and he was just as handsome as I had dreamed and even more cute. He was blond, with piercing blue eyes even in the lamplight, and dimpled. I told him that being it was his first time, this was his night, and whenever he wanted me, the other two would have to move aside.

He said okay, but he wanted to be polite and thought it would be okay to share if I wanted to give it to them. I said I already liked Brent. I asked Henry, is the other man a good man? He answered, yes ma’am, his name was Scott, and he was very respected. He had owned a saloon, but didn’t anymore, and was an awful good shot with a long rifle.

I asked whether he could go again yet, and in reply he got back on me right away and slid into me as I quickly spread. It was great to see the immediate pleasure on his face, and him the pleasure on mine too, no doubt. I fairly gurgled in pleasure as he worked his way back in. Then he was pumping away, and not long after I climaxed again with a whimper.

He had me all worked up by then, so I just held on for dear life and climaxed breathlessly every little while, working my way up to another big one. He lasted about twice as long the second time, and he still had a couple of big hot jets of spunk for me at his end, and I had another big wet shouting climax for him. After that, we held each other and laughed and kissed.

After we rested a while, I asked him to go get the others. He pulled on his trousers and went to go find them. The three of them came back together. Scott said he heard Henry had vouched for him, and I confirmed that he had. Scott smiled and said that warmed his heart. Henry asked what I wanted, all sweet. I asked did he want a break, and he said sure. Brent said he wanted to go last. Scott asked if I would have him now, and I answered him that I loved older men. I guessed him to be in his forties, but quite handsome and able-looking in a weathered way.

Henry said it was best if they went out again, and Brent told Scott he should come out when he needed a break, and they would figure it from there. All three men and myself being happy with this arrangement, the other two left, and Scott sat down at my bedside to take a good look and feel of my naked body and give me a little kiss hello. He asked me what Henry had said about him, and I told him that apparently he was known to be a good shot with a rifle, and Scott chuckled. But really it was Henry’s obvious respect for him, I said.

I got a tickle. I said that Henry had been so nice and good to me, I asked Scott, could he be a bad man, not for real, but rough? Scott replied, he could be a little bit bad, if that’s what I wanted. He stood and removed his clothes, and I could see he was already desirous. He checked my cunny, and found it slick and runny with both my own wet and with Henry’s leavings. He pulled me to the edge of the bed, and in a single motion speared me with his dick, which took my breath away.

He pumped away for a few strokes to get his pace, and I began to whimper. He grabbed my throat and choked my breath shut, and immediately I began to squirm in climax as my life began to leave me. He continued to pump in me as I slowly died and my climax bounced around in me with no way to escape, getting stronger and stronger. Finally, he let me up, still pumping in me furiously, and I gulped air and moaned, limp and helpless from his choking.

Scott pulled his dick out of my cunny. It was all frothy from Henry’s leavings. He speared his dick into my bunghole, and the tip popped in. From there he slowly thrust it in to the hilt as I whimpered half in fear of pain and half in anticipation of pleasure. It was surprising and a little painful, and my eyes teared up, and I confess it was wonderful. Then he looked in my eyes and started pumping his dick in my bunghole, and such a nasty look passed between us. I began to moan.

My moans rose in volume and pitch as he quickened his pace, and then he caught my throat tight at the end of a moan, and my world turned red, and I began to squirm and rock on his spearing dick in exquisite climax again as he held me down tightly at the throat and hips. I suffered, pleasured, and died slowly as he pumped on and on in me. Just as I was passing on to the other world, I felt his batch push hot and hard deep into my bottom, and he let me up from the choke. I gasped and spasmed for a while, only barely still alive, as he held me down and kept my bunghole speared. As I calmed, he slid his dick out of my bunghole and went to the washbasin to wash it while I lay there smiling and utterly spent.

Scott told me I was a wild one, and to never change, and that he already needed a break and a smoke, but that he would be back. He donned his trousers and left.

Brent arrived when I was still resting at the edge of the bed, my legs spread and dropped where Scott had left me, froth from Henry’s batches still painted all over and dripping from my cunny. He had me quickly and joyously, then, and I howled for him mightily when he put his first batch of the evening into me, and then I thanked him for the three of them, him especially, and he smiled.

The three of them had me in circles then, one at a time like that, all night long. The older men lasted longer and longer and finally gave up and left after a few more times. Henry was relentless in between them and after them, relentless as only a man who had never been in a woman before could be. I had to teach Henry to use my bunghole, because I started to worry about his relentless stirring of my cunny. Luckily, I had brought some bacon grease with me from the farm, and it made the way easy and simple for him his first time in the back hole of a woman. I also sucked him, which he said a woman had done him before like that once, but not like me. Henry and I fell asleep together eventually.

In the morning, Henry had me five more times, with a couple of nice big batches for me at dawn that made me probably wake up the whole whorehouse with my hoarse cries of ecstasy. My throat was sore and bruised from what Scott had done to me, but I loved him for it. Brent was my hero for his own sake and for bringing these two fine men to me.

Sunday, 31 October 1880.

On Saturday afternoon, yesterday, my cunny served Willard for a discount on fence posts. We went to a post yard. I went with the man for a quick poke, and it was not terrible, nor was it notable. He did his business without licking me first. This did not hurt me, nor was I moved. You’d think that a man whose entire business is about putting things in holes would have been a better lover.

Willard dropped me off afterwards again at Mme. Clothilde’s. Upstairs I found my favorite seamstress with another beautiful dress from my admirer! This one was a deep violet in color, and utterly indulgent. I immediately resolved to wear it to the reading that evening.

When the time for the reading came, I strode into the already near dark room. In the candlelight in front of my dear audience, I stripped slowly and luxuriously out of my deep violet dress down to my waist. I was really starting to enjoy this part of the reading with the audience: the hush as I started it, the obvious responses from the men and even from the women as I bared a portion of my body before baring my soul.

I went through the kissing and spinning part again to introduce them to the field house men. I heard the audience start their rustling movements almost immediately, which signified to me that both men and women were beginning to pleasure themselves or each other out there in the dark. For my part, my admirer was already rubbing up my cunny with one hand while trying to work his way up under my dress without knocking me over. I put my weight on my podium table to make it easier for him.

By the time I read the part where Bert had set me down on the table and had put his dick into me, my admirer had my bloomers off, had my bottom cheeks firmly squeezed in each bony hand, and had his tongue sliding slickly back and forth over my button with just a little bit of suction. He had been paying attention last night about what made me climax the most and hardest.

My voice was thrilling over the next few paragraphs while I tried to hold back at least until I reached a part where I was climaxing at the same time in my journal. It was being very difficult for me to hold back! I was shaking in my voice and body something awful by the time I made it to where Bert puts his batch in me, and I gave out a good howl then to match my tale. So satisfying! I think I splashed my admirer’s face with my wet, because this caused him to let go of my bottom for a moment and wipe his face with his handkerchief, or at least that’s what it felt like he was doing.

As my tale of being taken by the field house progressed, I came as often from my admirers tongue as I did in my story, so I had no problem adding appropriately wet punctuation to my tale.

Around the time I got to the part where Abe had me in my front hole while Bert had me in my back one at the same time, I was desperate to have a dick in me. So I called for a ten minute “intermission of darkness” I called it. I said this was to contemplate the thought that having so many men was not necessarily a bad thing. As I touched out my podium candle, my admirer immediately speared me, eliciting a wet moan from my lips. Similarly, I could hear the audience were enjoying themselves and each other all around me, with many rising cries from women being taken and wet grunts from men doing the taking filling the air of the close space.

My admirer put his warm batch in me as I gritted my teeth and growled in climax for it. He spilled out of me a moment later to be replaced by a familiar member. I whispered, is that you Brent? It is, ma’am, he replied, as he started to pump me up to a good hard climax. Within a few strokes, he had me puffing and chuffing and whimpering with each stroke. I could feel the audience reaching a consensus of climax around me, with delightful sounds, especially from the women, often followed by whispered endearments.

As Brent pumped a good three squirts deep in me, I shouted, “YEEEEEESSSSS!” and climaxed with him. It was what I had needed desperately, and now I felt in the mood to continue my story. As he slid out, I re-lit my candle with a self-igniting match I was carrying in my pocket for just such an occasion. I could hear that some audience members were still finishing up, including one intent and urgent couple spread on the floor in front of me.

I welcomed them to finish up as they needed to and make whatever noise they needed to as I resumed my tale. I said I would be happy to repeat words or sentences if I was drowned out. I paused, though, to watch the couple in front of me. The girl, who was only a little older than me, was clearly not a wanton by the look of her, but more of an innocent overtaken by passion and undoubtedly her feelings for her only slightly older lover, who looked from behind somewhat familiar to me.

Her face was flushing a deep scarlet, both from excitement and also from the unexpected embarrassment or excitement of being taken in front of the whole audience, it was hard to tell which. The young man tensed in her, and the girl shrieked in pleasure. Mmm! I could almost feel his batch shooting up into my own cunny from the sound she made. The audience applauded as the couple gathered themselves, dripping, from the floor. I saw then that the young man was Henry and smiled and clapped all the harder. Who was his sweetheart?

I then launched back into my tale, the audience quieter now, my admirer lazily lapping and licking up the spunk from himself and Brent as it slid out of my cunny, and me telling of all the sucking I did and of the climaxes I had from the men of the field house enjoying my bottom repeatedly. I spoke of being strapped to the pony overnight and of the men availing themselves of me repeatedly overnight in that helpless position. I described how Abe saved me from the pony and had me, and how also Paul came over and had me in Abe’s bed. Finally, I described the morning, where each of the men had a final poke in my cunny, except Bert, who had my bunghole instead, and Edgar, who had my throat and choked me to a good one.

The evening then concluded, and Mauga the giant islander threw me over his shoulder as usual and carried me off to my suite. While he carried me, I made it clear to him in whispers that I demanded he take me forcefully. I really was worked up over him, and I wanted nothing other than to have this huge man at the earliest conceivable opportunity. It gave me pause, though, to consider the huge baby that might result from the coupling and possibly kill me. However, I am not one to be overly cautious.

When we got to my suite, he carried me inside for a change and shut the door, and I smiled. He then set me down in front of him and unleashed his member. I say unleashed, because I had never seen anything the like of it, nor wish to again. It was the size and length of Willard’s forearm, I swear to God. Mauga then said kindly that he would love to have me, but he was just too big for any of my holes. I could see that clearly. It would be like a horse trying to make love to a mouse. All you would get was an inside-out mouse.

I had an idea, though. I wanted him to have a climax now that I had clearly worked him up, and I wanted to feel it, so I got naked and started rubbing spit on my breasts and rubbing up against his huge member. I led him to my bed, and we both put our spit all over my tummy and breasts, then he lay over me and rubbed his dick up and down the length of my tummy and up between my breasts. After a few minutes of this, he started shaking, and then he started laying a huge batch up against my chin and all over my breasts and belly as he moved away. I parted my legs and held my cunny open, and he pushed the giant head of his giant dick tight up against my cunny hole and squirted one giant hot spurt straight up into and onto my held-open cunny, which felt wonderful, and was as close as we could get to a consummation of our passion to mate.

Mauga then took his leave, smiling, and I grabbed a towel I had next to the bed. The episode had worked me up fierce, but also I was satisfied I had what I could have of the island man, and it made me happy. I went to have my nightly bath, then I tumbled into bed and slept, hoping for another visit from Brent and whomever he might bring with him.

Brent didn’t have to wake me up by calling me cupcake this time, what with all the banging around and jostling in the dark of the huge passel of men he brought. When all the men were in, and Brent called to me, I said, yes I heard you come in with the whole town it sounds like. Brent responded, no, there’s just six, well, seven of us this time. A young girl’s voice called out hello? I thought I recognized that voice.

I turned up the lamp before somebody could fall over and kill themselves. Sure enough, it was Henry and his new sweetheart. Wife, actually, said Henry, since it happened that in their earlier bout of unrestrained passion they had done it right in front of their preacher who had been sitting close at my reading. Suzette, that was his new wife, had figured thereby that they were justly married. Henry was obviously smitten and was all for the idea. The preacher had been only too happy to pronounce them man and wife based on what he had seen, and had further taken on the task of telling both sets of parents that the deed was done and could not now or ever be undone.

I asked the couple what they were doing here, and they said they were hoping to have a time or two with me like the rest, seeing I would be leaving town day after tomorrow. The other men offered to join the three of us so as to equal out the number of men and women, but Suzette demurred, saying she thought the three of us could stay pretty busy without any fourth person in the bed.

So there was Brent, Scott, and Henry as before, and Suzette, Henry’s bride, and Stroman, a piano player, the aforementioned preacher, Stewart, who said by way of explanation that he was Episcopalian and unmarried, so it wasn’t that much of a sin for him to participate, and my secret admirer, who finally introduced himself as Fernando. Is that a real name? I may never know.

Hands down, I wanted the happy couple first, so the others crowded out to do something else for a while. There was no muttering, to their credit, but I did encourage them if they wanted to be first in line next time, a good way to influence me would be to bring a lady friend along as Henry had thoughtfully done. That caused a little laughter among them as they filed out.

I asked Suzette about her history with Henry. She said they’d been in love since the spring and had been playing around a lot in barns and the like but thought it best not to consummate because the couple was hoping to persuade her parents legitimately, who were against it, so they hadn’t wanted to complicate matters.

But then, Henry confessed to Suzette yesterday that he had done it with me, and at first she had been upset, but then, when he brought her to my reading, she saw me, and she couldn’t blame Henry anymore. During the reading, Henry secretly touched up her cunny in the dark, then licked it up nice like I had taught him, and she had begun to climax, and along with hearing my sounds and the sounds of the audience, everything had so inflamed Suzette that she needed Henry right then and there in the dark, so she had coaxed him onto the floor at my feet and between her legs in all haste.

That’s when I learned that it had been her very first time, right there on the floor in front of everybody. I asked if she had been frightened, and she said she hadn’t really realized they had an audience until Henry had done his deed in her, as she put it, and she heard the audience’s applause. She was mortified until she saw that the preacher was right there, and then she figured they were married, which made her feel very happy, though still embarrassed. Being a Mormon, I asked whether Episcopalian ceremonies were usually like that, but the newlyweds said they weren’t.

Then I asked Suzette whether I could undress her and she agreed. Henry undressed himself. At the edge of the bed, I hugged and rubbed Suzette’s body to me. Then we started kissing, and I could tell then that she really wanted me, and it wasn’t some momentary excitement with the idea of touching me. We climbed onto the bed, still kissing and rubbing on each other, and Henry followed us, and I felt his hard dick push against my thigh. Suzette reached out to touch Henry, and I could feel the love between them. I broke the kiss so that she and Henry could kiss, because I could tell they wanted to kiss now, and I went down and nibbled on Suzette’s breasts instead.

As they continued to hug and kiss, I latched onto Suzette’s sweet cunny and started lapping and sucking on her cute button and pee hole. I tasted Henry’s spunk in her a little from earlier. I felt gratified when almost immediately she started thrilling in her legs and tummy and started making noises into her kiss with Henry’s mouth. I grabbed Henry’s dick. Suzette broke her kiss and started shouting and whimpering loudly and pumping her hips as she climaxed.

Henry got behind me and pushed into my cunny as I continued to lick and suck on Suzette. I pushed two fingers into her while keeping up my licking and sucking, and she went even wilder. At the same time, Henry’s dick began to thrill me deeply. I kept sucking on Suzette and trying to control myself, and then Henry flooded my cunny with two powerful squirts. I howled out a climax immediately upon feeling the first one and didn’t stop until he was done thrilling inside me.

Suzette whimpered and said she was desperate for Henry, so I climbed up to kiss Suzette’s mouth, and Henry came up, and I guided his still hard dick into Suzette, whose whole body thrilled when she felt him enter. I wished I could feel that way with any man, and perhaps I did most of the way with Richard, though I know Richard is really owned by Deirdre and only occasionally lent to me. It was wonderful to cuddle them and feel the thrill through both their bodies as they consummated their deep and obvious love and began their natural motions. I smiled at Suzette as she smiled back, and I saw her eyes start to get lazy, and I knew she was surrendering to Henry’s satisfying pressure filling her.

I cuddled and rested with them that way so peacefully as the urgency built and thrilled through both of their bodies. Then Suzette had a big bawling one that kept going into a panting one, and Henry couldn’t take it anymore. He growled and thrust whatever juice he still had left in him deep into her. A moment later, they started laughing and hugging me between them.

Henry slid out, and I thought I should tease him up again, since he had so many girls to satisfy. I took him into my mouth, and him being healthy and plenty excitable, he was hard and guzzled down my throat within a few strokes. Henry was making sounds of surprised pleasure, and Suzette was looking on amazed, and asking me how did I do that, because she could not get it in at all, and then there were her teeth. They had tried some, but her teeth had gotten in the way.

I unswallowed Henry, who looked about ready to pass out from pleasure. He could wait a few minutes while I answered Suzette. I thought on it, and answered her I supposed I learned on dicks a bit less sensitive then Henry’s so now I can do it with all of them. Suzette and especially Henry looked disappointed with this news. How could Suzette learn?

I told them that Scott should come help Suzette learn. If Scott or Suzette got too excited during, I could take Scott while Henry took Suzette, considering the newlyweds only wanted Henry’s spunk in Suzette’s cunny as God intends. So I argued it was safe to let Scott near Suzette. The newlyweds nodded their agreement, and I opened the door and shouted for Scott.

A moment later, Scott appeared with a little tobacco and a little whisky on his breath. As I kissed him in greeting I reminded him that these were nasty habits, and he agreed with me with a twinkle in his eye. I then told him that he was going to help me teach Suzette how to pleasure a dick with her mouth. I had Suzette get off of the bed and down on her knees with me, and I had her take Scott’s member out of his trousers while Henry looked on from the bed.

Scott was already hard, even at his age, and what man wouldn’t be with two naked girls on their knees before him and the promise that those pretty mouths would soon be on his dick? As I coaxed Suzette to take the head of Scott’s dick in her mouth, I could see she was trying to close her lips on it, and I told her open wide; I assured her that her wide open mouth would feel good to Scott. I let the two of them play like that, and showed Suzette how to pleasure a man with one’s mouth and hands so that he doesn’t get the throat. She was pretty good at this in a few minutes, and with no teeth according to Scott, but then she wanted more. She wanted to learn how to put it in her throat. I said okay and asked Scott to button up and go fetch her some whisky.

When Scott returned with the whisky, I told the couple to sit by and have Suzette drink at least three little tumblers of the fiery liquid. In the meantime, I took Scott to the bed and gave him a turn in me, mindful that many men were waiting outside, so I should use my time wisely as the whisky took its desired effect to loosen Suzette’s throat.

I had a pleasurable time with Scott as I had the previous night, though I asked him in a whisper not to choke me this time so as not to frighten Suzette. He was loving and gentle this time, as I knew he could be, and it was wonderful with him in a whole different way, and I had a big wet climax for him when he put his batch in me at the end. I think it was exciting for both of us to have the young couple watching from across the room as Suzette drank. I could see it worked them up a bit since Henry’s dick was standing again by the time Scott had finished spunking in my cunny.

I told Scott we would call him back when Suzette was ready, and told him to go fetch the next one for me. It happened to be Stewart the preacher, who when he saw that Suzette and Henry were still sitting there naked with Suzette knocking down whisky besides, mentioned that he was uncomfortable because it was not proper having his young parishioners there in the room with us.

I argued to the preacher that he had already seen them both climax, Suzette on her virgin outing no less, so why now improper? He said that had been unintentional on all their parts, and so different from choosing to act rightly or not. I asked him whether it was part of his proper role to teach the young couple the duties of marriage? And he replied yes, of course. And I argued that lovemaking was one of the proper duties of marriage, and so his duty to instruct. He looked back at me silently, concerned.

So get out of your trousers, Stewart, at least, I invited him. He unbuttoned his trousers, and a good-looking but sad dick was presented. Suzette, I said, time to get to practice. I told her to make him hard with her mouth. The poor preacher looked even more concerned, but I was enjoying myself, and had resolved for Suzette to practice on any of the men who didn’t pop out of their trousers hard, just so as not to hold up those needing to come after.

Suzette got in front of the preacher, both Henry and the preacher looking concerned now, but I think the whiskey was doing its work, because Suzette loved up that preacher’s cock like, well, I couldn’t have done a better job myself. I had to tell her to stop after a minute because I was afraid the preacher would squirt. I told Henry to fetch the next one while I took the preacher to bed. I asked Stewart what he would like to do with me, and he said if I was ready to, he would like to have me by the cunny, if that was suitable.

I said that would be much to my liking, so I lay down and spread my legs, and Stewart the preacher loomed over me and started pushing in his hard dick with a little help from my hand to guide the way. It was good, and I could tell he was a nice kind man who had been teased, and as he pushed into me all the way nice and tight, I whimpered apologies if I had been harsh with him, and he said I was beautiful, and perfect, and I should think nothing of it, and then he started up in me. His body was lean and nice, and I looked up at him and enjoyed the look on his handsome face and the feel of his bottom in my hands as he moved in me.

Pretty soon I was holding one back hard, because I figured after Suzette’s ministrations he would not last long, and I wanted to wait for his batch, but I suppose he had been more disturbed by Suzette being a parishoner of his than I figured, because he kept pumping and pumping, and finally I couldn’t wait any longer and howled out a big loud long one. After that, I was whimpering with every stroke, and I felt like having another one almost right away. It was then that he pushed deep and anointed my insides with a big hot batch, bless him. I climaxed again, reveling in the pleasure of it.

I looked up, and there was Suzette on her knees bobbing hard with mouth and hands on Stroman the piano player’s sizable dick. She had it worked a good ways into her mouth, with Henry looking on a little aghast. Suzette stopped abruptly and looked at me the way a cat looks when you’ve caught her devouring a critter she shouldn’t be eating. As Suzette startled, Stroman moaned loudly, and I saw Suzette’s throat start to swallow fast, and her eyes teared up. Henry asked, is this proper? And I replied, it was merely an accident, and I had asked her to help, so it was my fault. Henry argued that as her husband, he should have her mouth next, and I agreed. Stroman thanked all of us in the room, shook Henry’s hand sheepishly, and left along with the preacher to recover some.

Brent and Fernando showed up as Suzette got up to speed and slippery purpose on her husband’s member. I told the two new men to get undressed, and Fernando was soft while Brent was hard, so I motioned Brent over to take me. As Brent was working his dick into me, Henry groaned and finished in his wife’s mouth, and so I asked Suzette to please prepare Fernando for me next.

I was quite ready for Brent given all the happenings and climaxes in and around me, and so I was looking forward to Brent’s usual fast, hard, and urgent thrusting into me. I climaxed two good ones for Brent during his nice long furious stretch in me and saved up a special good loud one at the end for when he finished, and just barely made it there before having to climax anyway, so it was a big excited scream from me at the end.

I looked over at Suzette and saw that she was by then wiping Fernando’s spunk out of her nose and eyes with his elegant handkerchief. Henry was looking on with a little jealousy again. I said to Henry it was no great tragedy to have a wife who is too good at sucking dick, and this seemed to lighten his mood a little. Suzette apologized, and said she could not yet figure when other men were about to spunk. She only knew Henry. I asked Fernando whether he was unhappy and he insisted he wasn’t. I asked them to send Scott, because clearly Suzette was drunk enough now. The two of them left to fetch Scott.

I had Suzette lie on the edge of the bed with her head over the edge as Charles had taught me. For further encouragement besides the alcohol, I asked Henry to please make love to his wife during the entire process with dick, fingers, tongue, anything, as long as she was climaxing fairly regularly and happily. His mood brightened, as I figured it might. All that men ever need to feel all themselves is to be set to work, I think.

When Scott arrived, I had him push his partly hard dick into Suzette’s open mouth, and asked him to slowly try to push further whenever he felt her climax. He was very good at this, and Suzette had clearly gotten more comfortable too while sucking the other men. After only a few climaxes, Suzette was taking it all down into her throat easily, climax or no climax, and pretty soon, Scott was done, because he lost control and shot down Suzette’s throat during her third climax. It was understandable. I was pretty worked up and was touching myself helplessly from just overseeing this learning!

I insisted that Suzette needed more practice, and Henry was having fun loving his wife and giving her good climaxes, so he readily agreed. Suzette was too busy being drunk and climaxing, so I figured her answer to be close enough to yes to proceed. I asked Scott to bring them all. The men lined up in front of Suzette’s mouth. Suzette said she was worried, but I assured her they had all climaxed at least once already, and if she could handle both Stroman’s and Fernando’s first batches, this line of men would not be a problem for her.

Stewart the preacher started in Suzette’s throat, and she immediately climaxed and took his entire length down her throat with no fuss. I got on my knees to suck up Stroman, who was right behind the preacher in line. I wanted to make sure they were all big and hard for Suzette, and also that they didn’t last too long, for the purpose was to give Suzette some variety in her practicing. I enjoyed meeting Stroman and his dick.

After Stewart, the line went quickly. I’d like to think in part it was due to my preparing the men. The rest shot what they could down her throat within only a few minutes apiece of getting in. After the line was done, she smiled brightly, and she and Henry lay on the bed together and hugged each other tightly. They got dressed and left for the evening while I was preoccupied with Stewart and Stroman again. I hope I see them again before I have to leave. It was a lot to put Suzette through, and I worry that I may have pushed the couple too far too quickly.

Monday, 1 November 1880.

We were supposed to leave for home this morning, but Willard got injured in all the confusion during Demon Night last night, so we are staying in Salt Lake City one more day. I will spend the extra time writing since, after we get home, I’ll be back to writing in my journal only on Sunday afternoons.

Yesterday’s terrifying adventure began at a pharmacy. Willard was buying various medicines for the farm. When Willard brought the goods to the counter, Gustav the proprietor remarked he had a very pretty daughter, namely me. Willard replied that I was not his daughter, but one of his wives. They talked some more over the counter as I became increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. It came out that I was wife number fourteen, but that one had died.

Gustav asked Willard, with so many wives, how did he keep them all busy. Willard replied that there was plenty of work to do around the farm. Gustav became more specific, and said he meant busy in bed. Willard became unusually circumspect, much to my relief, since I thought he would mention the rule, but instead he simply said that he managed. But Gustav’s curiosity was not assuaged.

Next Gustav asked Willard whether he had ever lent out any of his wives. Willard replied it depends. Gustav said again he thought I was very pretty, which made me feel a little sick, though I didn’t know why just yet. It was the way he said it. After all, Willard had been trading for or outright selling my cunny all week. This was different, though, I knew somehow.

Willard then said what I had hoped he would not say, which was could he get a discount on the medications he was buying. Then Gustav said something surprising, which was that he thought he had something to trade that would interest Willard more. Intrigued, Willard said show him, and I was made to tag along as we went out the door to the back of the pharmacy.

Behind the pharmacy was a very ugly, run down alley. Running along the back of the pharmacy, I saw a number of small sheds, which I took to be storage, but as we passed by their open thresholds, I could see that all that was in each shed was a narrow straw bed. The pharmacist went to a sturdy door with a chain and a padlock on it. Gustav opened the padlock and the door and ushered us in.

At the bottom of the stairs was a gate of iron bars. Through the bars I could see perhaps a dozen women in dirty plain white dresses lying in straw beds along the walls. Most of them were staring off into space. Some of them had their eyes closed, but I could see they were not asleep. They disturbed me, all looking mostly dead like that. It gave me the shivers. I was terrified. There was a wooden dining table in the middle of the room. Gustav told Willard he was lucky, because they had all just had their doses.

Now it is your turn, Gustav told me, and he presented a vial of white liquid to me. I looked at Willard with abject fear, and he nodded at me, effectively ordering me to drink it down. I took the vial and choked down the vile concoction while Willard and Gustav watched me, and swallowed until it was gone, but only because otherwise I knew I would get a beating. It was mostly whiskey, but had something else in it that gave it a very bitter aftertaste. The whisky warmed me slightly. I prayed to God I would live through this. Gustav opened the gate, we three entered the room, and he closed the gate behind us and locked it. I kept by the gate, holding onto it, still terrified and shivering with fear.

Gustav took Willard into the room over to a bed where there was a very young girl child of perhaps seven or eight years. This is the cunt you’ll probably want first, he said. He raised the child’s dress, showing no hair and no breasts. The little girl whimpered as soon as she felt Gustav’s touch. Willard said with disgust, this child hasn’t had her courses yet. Gustav said, but the little cunt is so tight, there’s nothing like it. Willard replied coldly, I have daughters; I don’t mess with little children. Don’t you want to see this little cunt’s cute little cunt hole at least? Gustav lifted her leg a little. Willard just glared directly at him. Gustav dropped the child’s leg and lowered her dress without another word.

What’s that over there, said Willard, pointing to a small woman with bronze skin, is that cunt a Chink? Willard went over to her and pulled up her dress to reveal a black puff of a bush and small breasts with full dark brown nipples. She looks old enough, said Willard, is she having her courses? Surely, said Gustav. Willard started messing with the Chinese woman.

While this was all happening, I stopped shivering. I was watching them look through the women, and began feeling very relaxed. I slid down to the floor on my haunches, still hanging on to the gate. I could no longer see Willard from my vantage. He was behind the table from me. I could hear the Chinese woman complaining fearfully in some inexplicable language. I saw Gustav coming for me.

Gustav lifted my dress off me like I was a rag doll, because I was just like a rag doll. Him lifting the dress off of me felt wonderful. I wasn’t afraid of him any more. He picked me up and threw me on to the table like a slab of meat. The pain of it almost made me climax. I could feel the delicious feeling of Gustav dragging off my panties. I was excited for him by then, especially from being thrown down on the table, and I could feel my wet welling up for him.

As Gustav was fussing with his clothes, I heard the Chinese girl whimpering in climax for Willard. Gustav entered me then, but I didn’t see him. My eyes were closed. I felt him pumping in me, but it was like a little tickle. Mostly I felt the glorious feeling of the hard table raking rough against my back and one shoulder. That combined with the tickle in my cunny made me climax. I thought I was going to howl, it was so powerful, but it mostly came out as a breathy “oooooohhhh!” I died then for a while.

I came alive again later lying naked on the table. From the sounds, I figure that Willard and Gustav were busy having some of the other women. One was whimpering in pain, it sounded like. Another was emitting low moans. My eyes would not focus. I fell asleep, lulled by these sounds.

When I awoke, I was in the wagon wearing my clothes and sitting against Willard. We were in front of Mme. Clothilde’s, and he was shaking me and telling me to get out. I got out shakily and began staggering my way up to the suite. Climbing the stairs was difficult, because my legs still weren’t working very well.

At the door of my suite, I met my favorite dressmaker talking with Mme. Clothilde. The dressmaker had a black dress from my secret admirer. As the dressmaker fitted the dress on me, Mme. Clothilde told me that she had spoken to Willard, and that as she expected, he would not let me go for any reasonable sum. She was clucking about Willard feeding me opium, saying it was not right.

Since tonight was a special night for the reading, Demon Night, Mme. Clothilde had the idea that we should all wear masks at the reading, and we should all undress fully, but she wanted to ask me about it first. I approved the idea. I felt like the audience and I had been working in that direction over several evenings. I felt like we were ready to be together as a group as we had originally been given to the world. I felt like we were all ready to be intimately connected throughout the evening with the lights up. I thought that we were all ready to fully and freely share our true friendship and attraction among each other. I felt awake and excited again at the prospect of this, my final night of reading.

I entered the reading room that night wearing my new black dress and a with a black mask hiding my face, though my audience all knew who I was. They were all wearing masks as well. I asked that the lamps remain up, and then I put my journal down on my table and slowly removed my black dress entirely. Because I could see that the gentlemen especially were interested, I put one leg up on a chair, spread my cunny lips, and showed them all my cunny hole all spread out.

Then I asked them all to remove their clothes, and my audience began to remove their clothes for me. I looked around, and the view of them removing their clothes and watching each others remove their clothes excited me greatly. I went up to Fernando, who was undressing in his usual spot in a chair right behind where I would stand, and I asked him if he would be willing to pull up his chair to my table so that I could sit on his hard cock while reading and give myself climaxes during my reading in this way. He eagerly agreed, and while the audience was still undressing, I prepared him for this duty by falling to my knees and sucking him up to a nice hardness with my mouth and throat.

When the audience was all undressed in front of me, I opened my journal and began to read my account of the dog yard. As I began, I sat astride Fernando’s stiff dick and began to slowly pleasure my cunny up and down on its length. Although we were not yet in a part of my journal describing any carnal pleasures, the audience seemed inspired in me taking my slow pleasure on Fernando’s cock as I read, and they also commenced to slowly pleasuring themselves or each other while watching and listening to my reading.

Just before I reached the part in my story where I would ask the dogs to warm me, my slow ride on Fernando’s cock bore wet fruit, and I had to pause my reading to sit deeply on Fernando’s member, squeeze it hard with my cunny, and have myself a nice satisfying moaning climax. I took a moment to recover, then I continued my slow dance on Fernando’s cock as before, my juices now running out of me some on to his sizable hairy scrotum and the chair.

I went on to describe the thrilling licking on and into my cunny that Blackie did to me. As soon as I described his mounting and thrusting into me, Fernando trembled beneath me, pulled me down tightly to him, and put a nice dollop of his hot spunk up inside me. I had to stop again myself then, and had a nice quiet one for a change, rocking my hips back and forth on him.

After this, Fernando was spent, and Stroman, who had not had the pleasure of my cunny the night before, eagerly stepped up to replace him. Sitting on Stroman’s slightly thicker member was just perfect, seeing I was already worked up and wet, along with having Fernando’s emissions in me as well to slick the way. I started a slow dance on Stroman as I continued my reading.

As I began reading the part where Brownie was taking his pleasure in my bunghole, Stroman, began shaking with excitement, and since I was also close to one, when he pulled me down hard to him to have his climax, I howled out a good one at the same time. As we rested there for a second, I whispered back to him that he could have my bunghole later if he wished, and this made him smile.

Next I wanted Henry from the front row, but Suzette was already sitting on him as I was sitting on my men. She was looking flushed and like she might not want to share him. I went over to talk to her and asked her in a whisper whether she would take anybody in exchange for me having a turn on Henry.

She whispered to me Scott, who she got excited by when she watched him have me the night before. I asked her whether she would like him nice, like she saw him do to me, or rougher. She was all red-faced by this point, still riding Henry, and as she climaxed, between her pants and moans, she whispered to me rough, very rough. Henry was very close in her by then, so I figured I would let the couple finish up together as I went to talk to Scott, trusting to Henry’s stamina for him being able to take me after.

I found Scott on the floor over in one corner plowing a very refined-looking lady who still mostly had her dress on. She looked like she did not usually do this sort of thing, and had obviously been embarrassed to disrobe, but Scott had somehow persuaded her to spread, and she was looking like she was enjoying it. Her makeup was running all over the place. She was moaning, very excited, and saying things like oh it was sinful, and oh she was going to hell, and oh he was going to put a baby in her, oh yes.

I cuddled up to the couple on the floor and told them I needed Scott to replace Henry in Suzette so I could have Henry. I also told Scott that Suzette said she wanted it rough from him. Henry told his lady friend about Suzette losing her virginity only the previous day, and of him spunking in her mouth twice the previous night, and other sinful things. Then the woman began to climax for Scott with a long moan. When she was done, I asked her whether she wanted another man or men to replace Scott while I borrowed him. She said shyly no, she was happy to wait for Scott to return to her.

I sat on Henry, who had finished in Suzette but was still hard as I had surmised, and began my reading again. In front of us, as I was talking about farm life and beginning to enjoy pushing myself down on Henry’s cock, Scott put Suzette on her hands and knees on the floor, driving into her cunt from behind. He then spit on Suzette’s backside and used the spit and Suzette’s ample wet to work his thumb into her backside. Every once in a while he would smack one of her bottom cheeks and she would whimper. Needless to say, I had to pause my narrative to take this all in.

Henry was clearly getting more excited under me as he saw his girl get taken a little rougher than she had known before and being excited by it. Suzette climaxed then, and Henry almost did as well watching her, their souls being so entwined, but I stopped on him selfishly before he could quite do it, since I wanted him a bit longer in me before letting him climax, because then I knew I would have to give my climax, and I wanted to build it up a little more first.

I climbed off Henry then as he grabbed at me, because I was trying not to let him finish so soon. We continued to watch Scott and Suzette go at it. Scott turned Suzette over so that her back was on the rug, and he started working his dick into her virgin bunghole using the slop of Henry’s emissions and her wet from her cunny. Scott tried choking Suzette, but she didn’t seem to like it, so he went back to spanking her rump and her breasts lightly, and her face a little lighter, and she shook with excitement from this, and seemed distracted some from him stretching her bunghole slowly, which she was whimpering periodically, but not in a way that meant stop.

As I held a whimpering Henry’s dick still with one hand, Henry and I walked over for a closer look. Suzette was shaking now. Scott had her ankles pushed over her head now and was pumping her quicker and quicker in her bunghole. Suzette was flushing redder than ever and her teeth were gritted. She was still whimpering pitifully with every poke. Then she climaxed with a long scream. While she screamed out her climax, I jerked Henry a few times, and his spunk splashed out all over Suzette’s face and chest in comemoration of the moment.

I set down my journal on the table, because by this time, the room had erupted into chaos. A circle of onlookers had joined us in watching Suzette being roughly pleasured by Scott on the floor. Nearby, two women were sucking each other’s cunnies, and the one on top was having her bunghole excitedly plowed by a man. Masks were mostly on, but some had slipped off. Henry was getting hard in my hand again watching his wife’s excitement, so I lay on the floor next to Suzette and pulled Henry down on to me.

I couldn’t see anything any more from this vantage except Henry’s and Scott’s faces as they worked in us, and I got to see Suzette’s face close up. It was beet red; her eyes were fluttering but mostly closed; she was mouthing inarticulate syllables. As Henry pumped in me, I began kissing Suzette passionately, and Suzette seemed to like it. As we kissed, a few onlookers rained down spunk on our faces, Suzette’s breasts, and my shoulder and back. Henry had adapted, and was now straddling one leg and was pumping into me while I was turned to the side towards Suzette.

I could see that eager long lines were forming in the room to poke both Suzette and me. I was very concerned, because Suzette was only the previous afternoon a virgin, and to go from that to handling a line of men, I greatly feared she would regret the experience no matter how excited she was at the moment. The other problem was that I knew Suzette wanted to bear Henry’s child and no other. I could count on Scott following our instructions and either pulling out before spunking in Suzette’s cunny or spunking in Suzette’s bunghole, as he was clearly currently planning to do. A line of men would never be so particular about it.

I stopped worrying for a second, because Suzette screamed out another loud climax as Scott filled her bottom with spunk, and I felt Henry shoot hot spunk in me a moment after, and started a moaning climax. During all this, Suzette and I were showered with more appreciative gobs and strands and droplets of spunk from the onlookers standing around us.

As soon as I opened my eyes after my climax, I waved to Mauga the island man, who was standing by the door. I told Suzette and Henry he would escort them to my suite, and they should stay there with the door locked until the chaos died down. A wave of normally rational men felt a great lust at the moment to spunk up Suzette’s cunny, and we couldn’t allow it, so they needed to be removed from the fray. Mauga came over and followed my direction, throwing Suzette over one shoulder and gently pushing over a few men who tried to stop him from carrying her away.

With Henry and Suzette both removed, both lines of worked up men converged on me. Scott tried to shield me, but was pulled away across the room. A frantic older masked man I did not know got between my legs and swiftly penetrated me with a satisfied whimper, pumped in my cunny for only a few strokes, strained into me, and let loose a flood of hot spunk he must have been saving up for days. Even though I had just climaxed very thoroughly under Henry and this was a complete stranger in me without even a proper introduction, I whimpered and shook and nearly climaxed at the feel of it. I love a good big hot spunking so much, as you know.

Another stranger in his twenties I also didn’t know took the first stranger’s place with great haste, and he lasted for only about twenty strokes. I didn’t know whether I should organize things more, I was confused, and I was trying to hold back my next climax, because I could tell that the second stranger was also close. When I felt his hot ribbons hit my insides, I howled out a big loud one and lost all sense. My eyes were shut enjoying the second stranger’s muscular weight on me and his river of hot spunk in me, and more drops and splashes of spunk showered my face and upper body; at least I thought it was spunk.

I opened my eyes and saw it was blood. Several men armed with clubs had burst into the room, and the men in the room, though naked, were fighting them with whatever they could get their hands on, mostly chairs and parts of now broken chairs. The attackers were outnumbered, so they were being chased out of the room. My journal was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed my black dress and bloomers, and scampered out the door with a fellow batch of screaming naked women. I was terrified and did not know why this violence had happened at the time.

The turmoil carried me out naked into the street, still clutching my black dress and bloomers. There were angry men with torches and clubs outside Mme. Clothilde’s and also crowds of drunken revelers passing by. By avoiding the angry men attacking the whorehouse, I got carried off by a large band of drunken men who were laughing and who were carrying me in a more-or-less celebratory fashion down the street away from Mme. Clothilde’s. I made a plan to get a few blocks away from the whorehouse, wiggle free, get dressed, and sneak back towards the whorehouse and safety.

While I was being carried, I saw the girl child from Gustav’s basement, still dressed in her dirty white dress and bare feet, running down the street in the direction I was being carried as fast as her little legs could take her. I looked back to see two grim-looking men forcing their way through the revelers obviously trying to overtake her. She was almost around the corner and out of their reach.

I squirmed out of my reveling men’s grips, rushed over to the side of the crowd, and launched myself and my black dress onto the first of the men, tangling him in the dress and bowling him over. The second man tripped up and fell on top of us. By the time they recovered, the little girl was gone, but they had me firm in their grip.

The two of them carried me naked between them for several blocks. I knew where we were headed. If I fought, I knew I would be beaten and subdued, so I didn’t bother. I was hoping to reason with Gustav when we got there. When we arrived at the alley behind the pharmacy, I surmised that most of the shacks were occupied with the women from the basement from the sounds of grunting and struggle from within them and the lines of men leading up to the various thresholds.

I saw Gustav, and I told him Willard would find me, and he responded, let’s see how much money I can make from you in the meantime. He shackled me to the bed in one of the empty shacks. A line of men had already formed for me. He accepted a silver dollar from the first of them, who immediately pushed me through the doorway onto the bed and started taking off his trousers.

He was already hard. I tried to sit up to suck him, but he pushed me back down. There was a bit of a struggle as I tried to get him to penetrate my bunghole, but he slipped off it and into my cunny, which was luckily still wet and a little frothy from Fernando, Stroman, Henry, and the others. It was so dark I couldn’t even see the man, just the pressure of him on me and the sensation of his pumping dick raping me, although I suppose from his perspective I was bought and paid for.

Nothing makes a man soft as fast as a gunshot right behind him. My rapist disappeared from on top of me before the echo of the pistol shot died, it seemed. It was Henry right outside brandishing his Colt. I poked my head out of the door. Henry shot at my chain a couple of times and finally yanked it out of the bedframe. Now I was naked, free, and carrying a long chain. I peeked out of the shed and saw Gustav come around the corner with a shotgun ready to shoot Henry. I dived in front of Henry to protect him.

Before Gustav could pull the triggers, a large fist emerged from between two of the sheds and smashed in the side of his head. Gustav fell straight down like a puppet whose strings had been cut. One of the men who had carried me here came around the corner of another shed, pointing a rifle at Henry. The man’s head exploded, and an instant later, I heard the crack of a rifle in the distance. Henry shot through the wall of another shed and the other man who had carried me here dropped into sight, wounded.

Mauga the islander, who had saved us from Gustav by caving in his head, was now going through the sheds, ripping out chains, and gathering women in dirty white dresses. Henry gave me his jacket to wear, which didn’t cover me exactly, but it was warm. Brent appeared carrying a rifle. I surmised it was him who had taken the long shot to kill Henry’s second attacker.

Once Henry, Brent, and Mauga had gathered all the girls together, including me, we headed back to Mme. Clothilde’s on foot. By the time we got back there, the zealots who had attacked the whorehouse had all been chased away. Mme. Clothilde accepted the abused girls with open arms, and promised Henry, Brent, and Mauga that she would see after them and get them back home or wherever they wanted to be as best she could. She told Mauga to fetch the blacksmith to strike off our chains.

In the meantime, I took the girls up to my suite. Suzette was already there, and she helped me dip them one by one into the bath and scrub them thoroughly. The blacksmith appeared halfway through, so if the girl was decent, I escorted them, since they were still all fearful of men, and the blacksmith removed their chains gently. He was crying by the time he was done, being a gentle soul and having seen that these women had been abused so. I kissed him for his compassion, promised him solemnly that they would all be cared for properly from now on, and sent him on his way.

I spoke to Mme. Clothilde that if Willard appeared, he should stay elsewhere than the suite, being that the girls would have a terrible fright of him if they saw him. I also told her why this was the case, and she had herself a terrible case of muttering, fretting, and clucking. I think Willard would get at least a stern conversation next time she saw him.

There were fifteen girls in all, so it was four girls to a bed in my suite. Henry and Suzette slept together on one of the giant couches. I know she would have a hard time not waking the suite sleeping so close with Henry, so I leant her my leather toy and necklace for her to bite on in the night when she had a need to. They had another place to stay, but the women begged Henry to remian in the suite, since he was one of their saviors, and they felt vulnerable without him. I got Brent and Mauga to sleep on couches around in the suite for the same reason once the girls were all mostly settled.

It was early morning when I found out Willard had been wounded and that we would need to be staying an extra day. Also, in the morning, we found that the Chinese woman Hua had snuggled up with Brent in the night and wouldn’t let go of him, and the feeling was mutual. She had suffered greatly in captivity, but now had nowhere to go, and catching Brent had solved that problem for her. So it was that Brent, the notorious hellrake and gambler, became monogamous.
« Last Edit: November 08, 2020, 11:59:31 AM by Sweetums »

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Chapter 14: The Wide World

Tuesday, 9 November 1880.

Willard and I started back to the farm on Tuesday, 2 November, only a week ago. So much has happened in this week! As usual, and also for practical reasons, I should tell it the way it happened instead of twisting it all up and telling all the exciting parts out of order.

Mme. Clothilde had put everybody up in more permanent lodgings by the night before, so Willard and I spent the night together otherwise alone in our suite. He was still injured, so understandably limited as a lover. Though I was very disenchanted of Willard’s behavior, I performed my wifely duty to him. I straddled him, and he put his first batch up my cunny that way. Although I was expecting to feel more, it left me cold this time, though I started wet enough that it was not uncomfortable. Later, he had me tease another batch out of him and down my throat.

We arrived in Provo in the late afternoon of the second. Willard and I had supper together. To my relief, Willard did not offer the proprietor of the inn my cunt in exchange for the food and lodging. I expect, however, that this was only because the value of a turn in my cunt in Willard’s mind was greater than what we owed the innkeeper. It was not a very fancy inn.

That’s not to say that the innkeeper didn’t try to have me. The innkeeper tried to corner me once in the night on my way back from the outhouse. I scampered around him pretty easily. Luckily, it’s easy to avoid a fat old ball of lard. I confess that the innkeeper may have made a try at me because he heard I gave it to his son.

His son, whose name I do not know since we were never properly introduced, was a strapping lad a few years older than me who already knew his way around a woman. The son gently captured me in the hallway in the evening after supper on my way back to my room. I had a furious itch by then because I hadn’t had a decent poke or climax since my reading two whole days and nights previous.

I expect the son specialized in disgruntled and unsatisfied wives. He pushed me into an empty bedroom, and I acted mock offended, as any decent lady should. He knew the dance well, though. In a moment he was up under my dress, had my bloomers down, had his tongue and mouth locked on my cunny, and had his thumb up my cunny and a finger pressing somewhat urgently on my bunghole. Luckily, I was wearing my leather toy strung around my neck and was able to fetch it out and bite it hard before I had to scream out my first of many climaxes.

It took me at least ten more climaxes and whimpering and pleading for him to let me up before he relented and unlatched his mouth and fingers from my holes. I think he was used to having older women who needed to get slowly, patiently, and thoroughly warmed up after many years of disuse or misuse. They might put up a similar fight from embarrassment or disgust rather than mine from impatience.

His dick slid easily and deliciously into me after all the warming of me he did, and I climaxed, shaking, immediately upon his entry, groaning and biting my toy hard. I could tell from the first stroke that he was trying to go slow and to hold back. I fairly shouted around my toy, spunk me, spunk me, spunk me, because I was ready to climax again already as soon as I felt his batch hit me that I knew was already boiling up in his dick.

Then the son pulled out his dick and spunked all over the inside of my dress. I was so surprised, the toy dropped out of my mouth. Didn’t I tell you to put your spunk in me, I said, and he replied he didn’t want to get me with child. I lied and told him I was two months having conceived and my husband wouldn’t have me anymore, and then I started to cry very genuinely from frustration because I had missed having his batch.

He fetched a towel, handed it to me, said we should probably leave it at that, and left the room. I think I scared him away with my tears and frustration. I was upset at the time, because I still didn’t have a good batch up me those two days, but I can see now that his course was probably a sensible one. He had new women coming to him every day, and the last thing he needed was to mess with a hysterical one who might later accuse him of rape, fatherhood, or both. Better to pass that one up and trust the next one would be a bit less excitable.

I got to the room, and Willard was more recovered and more frisky. I got out of my dress and bloomers and climbed into bed before he could help me, as my dress especially was still wet and soiled on some inside places a God-fearing girl wife should never have wet or soiled except her husband knows it. After that, he still had to get undressed and pull back the covers to reveal me.

He was more energetic, and I believed God smiled on me again, for he started tonguing my cunny right away, and if the innkeeper’s son had spunked into me as I had wanted him to, with all his sucking Willard surely would have tasted it. I was worked up from being with the innkeeper’s son already, and Willard is quite a good lover even though I hate him fiercely, so he had me climaxing helplessly again before I could particularly think or fret about any of the reasons why I hate him so. Willard wanted me loud, so I couldn’t use my toy. The innkeeper’s son must have heard us, so he knew by then I was probably a liar.

After several howling or screaming climaxes on Willard’s tongue, I climaxed for Willard more times as he entered me, a couple of times during, and also when he put a nice big batch up me at the end, and I howled like death that last time. I hated Willard fiercely the whole time, and the climaxes were all for the innkeeper’s son, but nobody but me would ever know that.

Wednesday, 10 November 1880.

Willard and I had a long ride home from Provo the next day, on Wednesday the third. When we got back to the farm, it was too late for me to sleep with William. He had already gone off with Eliza, according to Emma. I took a bath to wash off the road dirt and then snuggled into bed with Emma. We had missed each other, so we tongued each other good and then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning at dawn, the fourth, I was back with Philinda in the barns and yards. She had extra help while I was gone, so things were orderly and nice for my return. She was very proud of this. She was also very happy about my return, because the field men had used her terribly hard both Saturdays she had served in my place.

The first Saturday, the Higgins men were still there, so sixteen men had done her in both holes continuously all evening and all night until exactly one hour after dawn when Emma pounded on the field house door. She must have had them all three or four times at least, and two or three at a time most of the time, and got no sleep besides. She was in bed exhausted all the next day and night, and it took her the better part of a week for her holes and throat to stop feeling tender from it.

The second Saturday, the Higgins men were gone, thankfully, but they had that mangy dog there, and all the men had her and took turns with the dog, which had her twice in the cunt and once in the bunghole, all three times knotting her, and then all the men again. This time, she was up the next day, but she was still feeling too sore, especially in the cunt, to take a man again yet, and it was four days past.

That evening after my bath, I was surprised to find that Richard had switched places with Charles, and so he and Deirdre had me that night. I was overjoyed, of course, and made a point of finding Charles to kiss with him and thank him for switching with Richard and Deirdre.

As Richard drove me to his homestead, he told me he had something special to show me and something special to ask me, and he wanted me to promise that whether I answered yes or no to what he asked me, I would keep it a secret. I asked him if Deirdre would know, because the only thing I could think of that would bother me would be a secret between Richard and me but kept from her. Richard assured me that Deirdre already knew and helped him plan it. Very mysterious! I said yes I would keep it secret.

When we got to the homestead, Deirdre and the children came out to greet us. Deirdre and I gave each other a peck, because I felt like they might not want the children to know that we had such a close relationship, but Deirdre said she spoke to the children about us being sister wives, which is more like being a husband and wife, and that we slept in the same bed now and even made babies together sometimes. It seemed like a lot for Deirdre to tell the children, but Deirdre replied that it would be necessary for them to understand this since we would all be sleeping close sometimes, she figured.

Next Richard and Deirdre showed me their barn while the children continued to jump around in the yard. In the barn were four strudy horses, which were two more than they had owned before I left for Salt Lake City, and there was a covered wagon stocked with provisions. I asked them immediately what is all this about. They said they and the children were leaving the farm for good, and they wanted me to come with them. So this was the secret!

I said yes right away, telling them I had made up my mind to escape Willard as soon as I could when I was in Salt Lake City, and that I would tell them more once the little ones were asleep.

They told me they were headed west to San Francisco, and that they believed they had enough to start a dry goods business there. They assured me that they had planned the route carefully. It was key for us to escape and get as far away as possible as quickly as possible, as this would make it harder for John, and Richard was certain that John would lead the posse to recover me.

We talked about refinements to their plan. I suggested that we bring Abe along. He was a good man and a strong man. He was well worth the risk of recruiting to our cause and otherwise unattached, and I believed he would jump at the chance to come with us. We would no doubt face terrible dangers in the wilderness, and I figured having Abe with us would about double our chances of survival. Richard and Deirdre agreed.

I also suggested that there were better horses at the main house than any of these, and that they would carry us faster and farther while depriving the household of their best horses with which to chase us. Richard was concerned that the horses in question, stallions all, were too excitable to pull a wagon, but I assured him I could control these four and could train them to be similarly handled by any sure hand. They agreed.

After the children were asleep, we sat to talk of my experiences in Salt Lake City. I told them about being used as chattel to buy seed grain, which had not been so bad as an experience, except the very idea of it. Then I told them about the fruit saplings, but I had also enjoyed that man, but still detested the idea my cunt had been sold in exchange for saplings.

I told them of the blacksmith who exchanged Willard an anvil for a turn in my bunghole. Then I told about the fence posts. Then I told about the pharmacy. About halfway through the pharmacy story, poor Deirdre threw out some of the contents of her stomach into the sink. She said it was the baby, but I could tell it was from my story. Richard looked like he felt about the same way.

Thursday, 11 November 1880.

On Friday the fifth I worked all day in the barns and yards. Except for this journal, my other journals were stored in a box that Emma and I had put in the attic so that we could have more space in our room. I took this box and other valuables of mine such as my dresses from Salt Lake City and put them in Richard’s wagon so that he could transport them to his homestead and pack them into the covered wagon.

That evening, James was to have me, and it was also Becca’s free day, so we spent the evening together, the three of us. They could see I didn’t want to talk about Salt Lake City. I made love to both of them desperately, knowing I would miss them.

On Saturday the sixth, I found myself at work silently saying good-bye to all the animals I cared for except the stallions that would be coming with us. Since things were very orderly, I asked Philinda to not expect me to come to work on Sunday, considering how rough the field house was being. Philinda agreed that it was best to plan for this.

I rode out to the field I knew Abe would be working in. First, I swore him to secrecy, which he accepted. Then I told him of our plan to escape the farm and asked him to come with us. He asked whether things would be the same between us, and I knew he was asking about whether we would still make love. I assured him that not only Saturdays, but morning, noon, and night every day, time permitting, since we would be in a hurry. I told him that he would have to share me with Richard and Deirdre, but that I promised to be frisky enough for all of them. Abe said he was happy to share me with Richard and Deirdre, especially seeing it would make me happy, which concerned him greatly.

Abe then said yes, he would come with us, and strive to protect us all from danger. We hugged and kissed a lot then. He asked shyly about Deirdre and me, was it just that we shared Richard? No, I told him, we do everything women do to make love to each other, sometimes including Richard, sometimes without him. I could tell Abe wanted to know more but was embarrassed to ask about it. He looked so cute, like he was trying to come up with a question that yielded more information yet not seem like the whole idea of two women going at each other didn’t excite him greatly, which I could tell it did.

I gave Abe three bottles of expensive whisky Richard had given me and told him of the plan. Then we kissed good-bye, knowing we would meet again that evening at the field house.

By the time I arrived to serve the field house, they were already half drunk on the fine whisky Richard had given us to lull them. Half drunk, however, they tended to be more ornery and not listening to my pleading or anyone’s pleading. So Bert argued that I was late, which I was not, I said, they were drunk early. He went on to call for the dog to have me to some cries of approval, and he let the dog in from the yard. The dog, who looked healthier than last I saw him, was already unsheathed and waiting excitedly just outside the door. Clearly a lot of the household girls had been subjected to this in recent days. I looked at Abe, the dog whimpering pitifully at me. Abe gave me a look that suggested I should endure this. I put my dress and bloomers on the table and got among the men on my hands and knees as they demanded. They wanted to watch closely while the dog mated with me.

The dog put his paws on my back and hit home in my cunny with the tip of his dick within a few attempts. Then he grabbed me firmly and expertly around my body with his paws and started plunging me rapidly like a piston all the way in up to his knot bump. I got a very sick and dizzy feeling from the force of my insides being so rapidly hammered out of the way to accommodate the dog’s giant and energetic dick.

The extremely rough plowing hurt some to start with, but the terrible pressure, energy, and wetness of it soon had my whole body thrilling and responding. Not too many strokes later, I howled out a strong climax that shook me all over, and from there I whimpered and whimpered for my furry lover, climaxing pretty much continuously thereafter.

Luckily, I was pretty insensible with pleasure when the dog thrust his knot into me with a terrible pinch. I shrieked in pain, but then right after the terrible lovely pressure of it made me howl out a long climax, and during my howl, the hot, hot semen of the dog filled me past bursting and squirted in gobs past the knot. I was out of breath, but moaning out a continuous climax as fast as I could gulp air to moan.

It was a long time before the dog finally and painfully pulled his knot from me, leaving me with a terrible empty and dirty feeling. The men were all asleep by then except for Abe, who had only feigned drinking. He gathered my limp body from the dirty floor, pushed my dress and bloomers onto me reasonably straight, and carried me quietly out the door.

By the time we got to the wagon barn, I had recovered some. I helped Abe harness up the last two stallions we were going to take with us. Then we climbed in, and I drove the wagon to Richard and Deirdre’s. When we arrived, everything was ready out in the yard for the last two horses to be harnessed, and then we were off.

I drove the team, stopping only to water the horses, through Saturday night, through Sunday the seventh without sleep, and until Monday evening, the eighth of November. By then, all of us could handle the team. Having not slept in two days, I was soon dead to the world in the back of the wagon along with the kids.

End of Child Bride
« Last Edit: May 31, 2020, 11:24:04 PM by Sweetums »

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I have an idea for a sequel to this story. If people want to read it, I will write it. The sequel would cover at least the journey to San Francisco and our party establishing themselves there.

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moderator note:  text removed, commenter only quoted the first post of this thread.
« Last Edit: October 18, 2020, 07:54:58 PM by MintJulie »

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Excellent writer, excellent story. The sequel is badly needed.

The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones. - William Shakespeare

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Thanks for the encouragement, Uncle Ed. I’ll undertake the first chapter of it.

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As requested, now continued in "Refugee Bride" ( in this section. Based on reader feedback, I'll add chapters.
« Last Edit: May 02, 2021, 08:36:19 PM by Sweetums »