The Mysterious Mrs. Sang Grace
Foreword
For the first half of the story I have deviated slightly from safe, sane and consensual for the sake of plot and character development. Without a conflict, there is just no story.
‘Once upon a time; they lived happily ever after,’ makes for a dull read. While descriptions of sexual activities and the feelings they bring up are fun; it’s better when there is a bit of a plot first.
So bear with me on this story.
Spoilers follow to the start of Chapter One.
Let’s face it, nothing truly permanent will happen to either ‘I’ or ‘Mrs. Sang’. What would be the point?
The naughty bits start a quarter into the first chapter.
But the naughty bits with Mrs. Sang start at the I am tested - and then I am tested again. beginning of Chapter Four.
Chapter One – Unusual Developments
It had been over six months since I had saved Mrs. Sang. Over six months of wedded bliss; except that there had been only words to each other and the ‘Double Ring Ceremony’. Now my nipples carried one tiny ring each. I was her man but I was not her husband. For me; given the context of ‘us’; that worked.
Our days went the way they had before. But our Nights; those were different! Only the activities remained the same. Our passions had been ignited and respect and discipline were like fires that kept us hot!
We rode close to the edge and we liked it that way yet on the outside nothing seemed to be amiss. Our passions were our little secret.
One day, Mrs. Sang’s ‘wild child’ twenty year old niece, Grace Tan came from Hong Kong to stay with Mrs. Sang temporarily.
When I say she was a ‘wild child’; I mean that when you looked up the term in the dictionary, there was her picture sneering back at you, as she gave you the finger.
It was an inconvenience but only a temporary one, at that.
Grace had ignored the rules at her home so at first she tried that with Mrs. Sang’s too. That had been a mistake on Grace’s part and after a battle of wills, Grace had backed down.
Mrs. Sang still had a lock installed on the door to her basement. Just in case…
Grace attended college and twice a week, she attended night classes. On those nights, we played for the two or three hours she was out.
On the other nights, we would allow the intensity to build. It made for an interesting time.
One Friday, Mrs. Sang and I went out for dinner. Grace was supposed to join us but one of her friends called and she went with them instead. As it turned out, that was a good thing.
Mrs. Sang had promised me a traditional Chinese meal. ‘Dim Sum’ she had called it.
We made arrangements to go to a restaurant in another city not far away.
Once seated, Mrs. Sang waved away the menus and ordered an assortment of appetizers. The ‘Won Ton’ soup was brought to our table and it was delicious.
A few minutes later I noticed I was becoming disoriented. I looked over at Mrs. Sang but she had passed out. I looked around and noticed that the place seemed deserted. Then I passed out too.
< . >
I was dreaming. Mrs. Sang had tied me spread-eagled in her basement. My arms and legs were spread wide and bound securely. A hood with a cable attached to it was over my head, the gag in place. I was blindfolded but I could tell that I was nude too.
First she’d lashed my butt with a whip. It cracked and sounded very menacing as it sizzled through the air. I would grunt and yell through my gag inarticulately and uninhibitedly, as the leather landed.
“Odd that Mrs. Sang would use a whip instead of the belt.” I thought to myself.
After a few minutes, she’d fondle my dick to hardness. There was a harshness that wasn’t usually there. I also noticed that the timing was off from the way she usually masturbated me.
“Odder still, that she used so much force when she grabbed me.” My silent train of muddled thought ran, “Almost like it was someone who didn’t know me intimately…”
Suddenly, I came to full awareness. The restaurant, the drugs, all of it came back in a flash.
I was also aware of something else. It wasn’t a dream. I really was bound nude and spread-eagled! I was also blindfolded and gagged. Worse still, someone unknown to me was whipping me and masturbating my helplessly bound body!
I was obviously giving someone a lot of pleasure. I could hear heavy, ragged breathing. Whoever she was, her perfume was definitely working. In spite of my predicament, I noticed its sweet scent as she stood behind me, in complete control of my bound nudity.
I involuntarily tightened up and grunted against the lash. If I had been thinking more clearly, I might have played possum but I reacted instead of taking control. It was a slip on my part.
“Ah…He awakens!” A voice that sounded vaguely familiar said with what sounded like triumph.
I heard her high heels click on the floor as she stepped closer to my broad, bound nude back. I inhaled her sweet scent. I involuntarily gasped and flinched as she put her gloved hand on my shoulder.
“Oh…Touchy, aren’t we?” She said with mild sarcasm, “You weren’t afraid of my touch a few minutes ago.”
As if to emphasize her point, she grasped my semi hard cock and squeezed it, hard.
This time, I refrained from flinching although I thought to myself, “A few minutes ago, I was drugged into semi consciousness.”
She continued her monologue while I stood nude, bound, blindfolded, gagged and helpless.
“I went to a lot of trouble to acquire you.” She pouted, “It took a lot of time and effort, not to mention the money involved; just to acquire you!”
She began to enumerate the various costs involved.
“There was the P.I. just to find you, bribing the people at the phone company so I could listen in on your conversations, renting the restaurant on that specific Friday…All these things took a great deal of effort!” She spoke as though I should be grateful she had kidnapped Mrs. Sang and me.
She continued to rhythmically squeeze my cock but softer this time and was rewarded when it became engorged. I could feel it become harder as waves of pleasure shot up my hardening shaft. I could feel the veins on the side of my cock becoming distended and its bulbous head seemed ready to burst at her now softer touch.
“Damned treacherous thing has a mind of its own, sure enough!” I thought grimly to myself.
“Well, at least a part of you is grateful!” She observed.
She added sarcastically, “That’s okay…This I can ‘work’ with.”
She laughed then, a soft girlish giggle, quite at odds with what she was doing to me.
Suddenly I felt her removing my blindfold. There before me stood the infamous Madame Chow!
She was still a big bodied woman but obviously she had been working out of late. The last time I had seen her she had walked heavily and slumped when she sat.
This woman was alive and poised. She walked with an athletic stride and if she was not thin, she was truly voluptuous. Ripe full breasts were barely contained in a black corset that flared out again to wide hips and shapely legs.
God! I loved big beautiful women, almost as much as I love Mrs. Sang.
Hated myself for feeling anything for this treacherous thing but it was what it was. Lust can do that to a guy.
She smiled then, a real honest smile. That worried me, that smile did.
“Where was Mrs. Sang?” I wondered, “And how were we going to get out of this one?”
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Chapter Two – Magnificent Obsession
I felt her drop her hand back to my now iron hard dick where she continued to squeeze it ever so well.
“No one has ever bested me before.” She nodded; her eyes suddenly wide, “I have been in this business for a long time and no one has ever gotten away from me under the conditions that you did. No one has ever shown such courage or resourcefulness.”
She looked up and away as if remembering a suddenly important detail; her hand still rhythmically squeezing my throbbing erection as she continued.
“I once had a partner but she tried to steal from me. When I caught her, her lover ran, rather than stand and fight.” She reminisced, “So I had her turned into a heavy submissive. It was an object lesson.”
She nodded to herself but the image that she had just painted for me caused my dick to droop ever so slightly.
She noticed and looking down, commented, “So you don’t have a hard heart, hmm?”
Her eyes met mine again and she let her true colours show as she said, “Too bad! I do have a hard heart and unless you learn to enjoy obedience to my command; I will be very unpleasant to your lady!”
Madame Chow stepped back away to reveal a desk with a computer, monitor, key board, microphone and mouse on it. The chair was pushed out of the way.
The monitor was on. It showed a naked oriental woman tied spread-eagled between to support columns. She was gagged and her head was immobilized in a harness attached to a cable that ran from the ceiling.
There were three men conversing off to one side as the woman struggled helplessly against her bonds.
“Madame Chung was most surprised when her faithful bodyguards suddenly turned on her two short days after your last visit.” Madame Chow observed, “Eventually, she told me everything that I wanted to know.”
“Her interrogation, especially the latter parts of it, inspired me!” She added; her eyes alive with lust as she watched the woman on the screen.
After a moment she snapped again, “Now, watch what they do to her!”
She had snarled the last out and I allowed myself to flinch. It was as much of a reaction as she had hoped for because she suddenly touched the keyboard and spoke harshly into the mike.
Then she turned toward me and stepped close. Her hungry eyes roamed up and down my naked body as she resumed squeezing and releasing my sagging dick.
I put my worries behind me. Believe me when I say that was hard. But I put them behind me and played the part Madame Chow seemed to want me to play.
On the monitor, I watched as the three men approached the naked Madame Chung. She seemed fearful and tried desperately to get away.
At the last, I tried to look away or at least close my eyes but Madame Chow wasn’t having any of it.
“No, no…” She said softly, “I didn’t hurt her. Well, at first I did but when I found out ‘The Secret’, I stopped hurting her…”
I looked at her quizzically and she smiled, “Just look!”
She gestured at the monitor and I forced my eyes back to what I feared would be some horrible sight.
I was wrong.
The naked woman was being lightly whipped from behind by one man but he obviously wasn’t hurting her. Her reactions were not those of someone in pain.
Another man stood in front of her and was busy fondling her breasts. He wasn’t hurting her either. He was smiling but it wasn’t a nice smile.
The third man was kneeling at her feet. In his hands was an electric vibrating wand. It was pressed firmly against her bare cunt.
The naked and bound Madame Chung was fearfully shaking her head. Her body was already starting to show the signs of a building climax. The three men ignored her protests.
As if to answer my unspoken question about ‘The Secret’, Madame Chow spoke, “Eventually, she told me why Mrs. Sang had thrown her out. She said you displayed pride and courage while bound and aroused and that Mrs. Sang had actually shown feelings for you…A sex slave!!!”
“Upon further investigation, I realized that intensifying orgasms with pleasure must have been Mrs. Sang’s secret to controlling you!” Madame Chow beamed at me and I had to work at not groaning, at such a hokey explanation.
“I know I know…“Madame Chow continued, as though sharing an impossible idea as real, “It sounded implausible to me…So I decided to experiment. I took a…Well just watch…We are getting to the first one now.”
Madame Chow continued to squeeze and release my now quite flaccid cock as we watched the naked woman sexually stimulated on the screen before us.
Within a minute, as the woman on the screen became aroused, so did I. I hated myself for responding to this predator’s manipulations but I could not deny that she was seriously arousing me.
The naked woman on the screen began to convulse and heave as her first orgasm took hold of her. The three men smiled at her obvious behavior and as her orgasm passed they gave her a slight break before starting back up and stimulating her again. She pulled all the harder at her restraints and screamed silently at her three tormentors.
Madame Chow continued to squeeze and release my now iron hard erection. The sensitive shaft and turgid length throbbed and pulsed to her obvious delight.
“Just as a show of how kind I can be, we will be gentle tonight and let her off with half her daily allotment of twenty orgasms. Isn’t that kind of me?” Madame Chow smiled at my hard dick.
Once again, she overstepped her good sense when she added, “How do you think Mrs. Sang will look when she undergoes this treatment?”
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Chapter Three – Saving Grace
Just the thought of my beloved in the cruel hands of these people was enough to get my blood boiling.
Madame Chow must have been ready for it too because she did not react angrily to the near disappearance of my erection.
Instead, she pressed her breasts against my naked torso and allowed her scent to invade my nostrils as she spoke.
“Maybe we will just have a private party. It will be just you and me.” She paused and smiled before continuing, “Give to me what you give to ‘her’ and I won’t do anything to her.”
She left the rest unspoken but it was clear enough. Either I service this woman or she’d take revenge in the form of a trip on the ‘Forced Orgasm Express’ for Mrs. Sang. That she was holding Mrs. Sang against her will was obviously not a big deal for Madame Chow.
I made a show of thinking it over before I nodded my assent.
She smiled condescendingly and said, “Just as a show of good faith, I’m going to squeeze and release your cock while we watch Madame Chung’s treatment for today!”
I looked right at her as she continued to rhythmically squeeze my hard cock. Her big body was so tantalizingly close. It was just out of touch and so firmly contained in that black leather corset.
Her eyes were filled with lust as she continued to torment my now very hard and throbbing organ. She ignored the woman silently screaming and convulsing on the monitor as she touched me so intimately.
As much as I hate to admit it, all that she was doing to me made me hard as a rock. I would have stopped it if I could but she knew that and was determined to bring me over to her side. I’d obey her and love her or else…
That this would destroy who I actually was did not seem to dawn on her and I knew that if I told her, she’d take it as scorn.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” I remembered.
So I pretended that I was enjoying the ’treatment’ of Madame Chung and I submitted to the Madame Chow’s ’treatment’ of my hard dick.
The hell of it was that a part of me did enjoy what was happening or I wouldn’t have been hard.
Madame Chung was now wildly shaking her head and wringing her bound hands as the three men continued to torment her. After each orgasm, they’d give her a break for a few seconds and then they’d start again.
She knew what was coming and it was going to be her…Again!
My iron hard cock throbbed and pulsed under the cruel Madame Chow’s absolute control.
Madame Chung neared another climax. She shook and her head arched back as it took hold.
My breathing turned ragged and I could feel the beginning of an orgasm.
Madame Chow stopped and said, “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we? Not yet, in any event.”
I looked at her and it was obvious that she was very pleased at my reactions.
She stepped back and said, “I have just the thing! Wait right here!”
Then she was gone. Without her constant attentions to my dick, I went soft almost immediately. I started looking for a way to get free. I knew I did not have much time…
Madame Chow hadn’t been gone thirty seconds when a head popped through the door. This was followed by the rest of Grace Tan!
She began to work furiously on getting me free, taking the gag off first.
“I want you to know that if Aunt Evelyn wasn’t so in love with you, I’d leave you here. It’s obvious what you have been doing! I have no respect for unfaithful men!” She spat the last out.
“I have not been unfaithful…Little girl!” I retorted, my voice more shaky than I cared for, “That woman gave me scant choice. Now let’s get your aunt and get out of here!”
My clothing lay in a pile in a corner of the room and it took but a moment to dress again. Man, it felt so good to have clothes on again!
Mrs. Sang was in the next room. She was drugged unconscious and still fully clothed. I didn’t know whether to be relieved at her condition or grateful to whatever deity was watching over her.
I picked her up and we were all at the front door when Madame Chow reemerged from her office into the hall.
She was nude except for a gigantic strap-on and high heels.
“It’s my size, isn’t it?” She sounded crestfallen.
I was surprised and it sounded in my voice as I spoke, “No, it isn’t…You can’t force someone to love you.”
I waited a second to marshal my thoughts before adding, “You can only force them to come on command.”
“All you’re interested in is that I have displayed a strength that you find appealing.” I said.
I paused until she looked up before adding, “Do you realize that I still don’t even know your first name?”
“Brenda…My first name is Brenda.” Madame Chow said softly.
“Brenda…” I said firmly, “You’re running with a rough crowd and you make up the rules as you go along…It’s not something I want to be a part of.”
Turning to leave I added, “Please, leave Mrs. Sang and me alone, from now on.”
Although I tried not to show it, my heart was thumping in my mouth. If she called upon her men; we were going to be in a lot of trouble.
I took a couple of steps with Mrs. Sang before I suddenly realized that I was alone. Grace was still at the door.
As if to put the lie to my words, Grace eyed the big naked woman in an insolent and lustful way.
“Looking Good…Brenda!” Grace said with emphasis on the last word.
We left and went home. Brenda Chow let us go; she stood at the doorway nude except for her strap-on and high heels.
There was no one around as we left but I got the impression that she wouldn’t have cared anyway.
There was a thoughtful expression on her face as we pulled away in the car Grace was using.
After that, we were extra careful over the next while.
For Mrs. Sang the whole thing was a non event. She had slept through it all.
Frankly, I was relieved.
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Chapter Four – Renewal
It turned out that Grace had decided to join us at the last moment at the restaurant. She had seen us being abducted and followed before attempting a rescue.
I thought us lucky that she hadn’t been kidnapped too but I kept my opinion to myself. After all, I was the one who had been the object of Brenda Chow’s affection and without Grace’s help things would only have gotten worse.
I explained what had happened after Mrs. Sang had lost consciousness. I did this for her when Grace was around. I also did it for her when we were alone.
When we were alone, I explained my feelings as best I understood them. She had stroked my face and told me that she was proud of me. I believed her but I was not proud of my actions.
Intellectually, I understood why I had done it but emotionally, I felt cheap and silly, like I had been bested by an inferior opponent. It wasn’t logical but it was the way I felt.
One night, a week after we had gotten off safe and sound, Mrs. Sang and I found ourselves alone.
“I don’t know about you but I have waited long enough!” Mrs. Sang said, as we cuddled on her couch, “If you’re up to it, I want to play tonight!”
I gulped and a little flutter went through my belly as I responded, “S…Sure, I’m up for that.”
If she had seen my hesitation, Mrs. Sang gave no indication.
She grabbed me by the hair, opened the bathrobe she was wearing (now that we were alone) and forced my face down to her shaved pussy!
“You know what to do!” She commanded me.
She smelled all woman to me as I bent eagerly to my task. I felt her hands on the back of my head as I licked and stroked her intimately with my lips and tongue.
Her passions grew and she became very wet and swollen down there. I could hear her muttering things in Chinese as she began to slowly hump back against my face and the tender ministrations I was giving her.
“Enough!” She cried, at length, “Get up, get your clothes off and go downstairs!”
I was eager enough to obey her.
As we stood, she unceremoniously dropped her robe to the floor and standing proud in her nudity, followed me downstairs.
Once downstairs, she cuffed my wrists together and then attached them before stringing them above my head on a cable attached to an electric winch located on the ceiling, the panel to operate it being located on the wall.
When I was standing on tip toe, Mrs. Sang took down the leather harness from the wall and attached it to me. It included an open place for my shaved privates to poke through. It also included a leather hollow phallus.
Mrs. Sang was thoughtful enough to grease it before inserting it anally. I also heard / felt her insert the buzzing vibrator into the hollow phallus and lock it there.
She then tied my ankles together. Taking a large ball gag from the wall, she inserted it and buckled it up before stepping back to survey her handiwork.
I knew that the gag would not interfere with small words and the butt vibrator would do plenty to keep me stimulated. I still felt silly…
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Chapter Five - Retribution
Picking up the belt from its customary place on the wall, she spoke, “So, I will ask the questions and you will answer the questions. It is a simple arrangement, really.”
She continued, “For every ‘yes’ you will receive ten lashes on the ass. For every ’no’ you will receive thirty rhythmic squeezes of your cock.”
She paused and smiled cruelly before asking, “Do you understand?”
I nodded but she wasn’t having any of it.
“Uh, uh…How do we answer?” She asked.
She answered her own question, “We answer with a ‘yes’ or a ’no’.”
Then she reiterated her initial question, “Do you understand?”
She smiled and I saw at once that I wasn’t going to get out of this without a lashing.
I hesitated ever so slightly before answering around the gag, “Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.” She said as she positioned herself directly behind my nude bound body.
The belt whispered through the air before impacting on my tight butt. I gasped and I knew that she had lashed me hard! It was going to be a long night!
Nine more strokes followed. I did my best not to cry out or flinch. My tightly bound body tensed as the hungry belt kissed my leather bound ass over and over.
“Do you like this arrangement?” She asked coyly
I gasped and hung heavily on my cuffs as I answered, “No!”
Stepping to my right side she gently grabbed my very flaccid penis in her knowing hands. It was the work of a mere handful of squeezes before I was fully aroused. Another few strokes and I had a very hard erection, indeed.
“Now we can begin.” She said.
“Were you tied spread-eagled and totally available for Brenda Chow to torment?” Mrs. Sang asked.
“Yes.” I said.
She stepped back behind me and lashed my nude bound body.
I jerked involuntarily, as the belt landed. She whipped me silently. All that could be heard were her breathing, my grunts and the sound of the belt whispering through the air before it landed with a wet slapping impact.
Had you agreed to this bondage?" She asked.
“No.” I said around the gag.
Stepping close again, she squeezed my cock back to iron hardness. I could feel my arousal after another score of strokes, despite the pain. I wasn’t going to come at this rate but I definitely wasn’t going to be comfortable either.
“Did your dick get hard when Brenda Chow stroked it in her dungeon?” She asked.
“Yes.” I said as I hung my head and I felt my dick sag.
I heard her step back and I tensed as the lashing impacted on my helpless butt. Nine more times, she let fly before stopping.
“That damned belt was getting quite a workout tonight!” I thought.
“Did you want her to touch you?” She asked fiercely.
“No.” I said as I straightened up.
As she stepped close to me, I took a moment to stare at her face. She didn’t seem to be having a good time either yet I knew that she needed to ask these questions under these conditions as much as I needed to answer them.
It wasn’t a matter of logic; it was a purely primitive response. Someone else had tried to take her man and she was reasserting her claim!
“Could she have made you come?” She asked calmly, her eyes alight with lust.
“Yes.” I said as shame filled me and made it hard for me to answer.
Mrs. Sang lashed me harder this time. The ten strokes were delivered in fast succession and I was having a very difficult time not crying out.
Mrs. Sang’s nudity while she tormented me was not an issue, amazingly enough. Usually I was aroused by her naked body.
“Did you want to stay there and let her make you come?” She asked.
“No.” I answered her simply.
As her lashings had been hard and intense; her squeezes were exquisite and very erotic. I was gasping and groaning as she brought me to a heightened state of arousal.
Then the questions became a little more complicated.
“Did she ask you: To give yourself to her…As you do to me? Mrs. Sang asked.
“Yes.” I answered her (as I had when I told her earlier).
She positioned herself behind me and I heard her swear in Chinese. Then she struck out with the belt.
Its fiery kiss on my ass set me to gasping. The next was equally as powerful and I cried out, as much at her fury as at the power of her rage.
She was not deterred and continued to whip my butt eight more times, very hard!
By the end I was yelling and pulling helplessly on the cuffs that held me immobile for her. I shuddered with relief when she finally stopped.
“Did you want to give yourself to her, even if I hadn’t been there?” She asked.
“No.” I answered.
But I thought, “I don’t care how good looking Brenda Chow was; Evelyn Sang was the only woman for me.”
She murmured a consoling sound as she stepped close and rhythmically squeezed my dick to iron hardness, once again.
“Did you want Brenda Chow to touch, ‘ME’?” She asked with a heavy emphasis on the last word.
I hesitated and felt very embarrassed before saying, “Yes”.
The image of a helplessly bound Brenda Chow on her belly before Mrs. Sang and servicing her with lips and tongue while I watched was a very erotic one to me.
There was surprise in her voice and I had the feeling she was not expecting that answer when she said, “Oh really?”
She said, “We’ll see about that!”
Stepping back, she lashed my naked butt again and again. The strikes were hard punishing blows and I flinched as they found their mark.
“Do you want to see her dominate me?” Mrs. Sang asked coldly.
“No.” I said resolutely.
“Oh! I do see!” She said tartly, “Don’t be holding your breath while you’re waiting for that to happen!”
Mrs. Sang stepped forward, grabbed my dick and rhythmically squeezed me to iron hardness once more.
As she played with my manhood this last time, I felt better now.
I had felt like I had been tempted by Brenda Chow. Now I felt like I was somehow vindicated.
It wasn’t logical but it was the way I felt.
When she was done, Mrs. Sang put the belt back up on the wall. Turning without a word or gesture, she started up the stairs.
Partway up, she paused to catch my eye.
She winked and smiled before she left me, nude, bound, whipped and so every aroused!
I no longer felt silly!
The End
Pierre or Impossibilities
Foreword
It is generally believed that the writer Herman Melville thought his wife dull, and took every opportunity to leave home for the all-male company of bars, shipyards, and long sea voyages. Still the known facts of Herman Melville’s life reveal nothing so scandalous as an overtly homosexual liaison. One can, however, suggest with some certainty that Melville was “confused.” For example, when his son Stanwix was born, Melville on the birth certificate accidentally identified his own mother as the mother of his son. This was when he was writing the novel Pierre.
Just after the lackluster reception of Moby-Dick, Herman Melville published Pierre or ambiguities in 1852. Dealing with immensely controversial issues such as incest and moral relativism, and savagely lampooning the American literary establishment, Pierre and its author were mauled by infuriated critics. The book sold very poorly. The combination of publishing failure and critical hostility affected Melville’s approach to writing, causing him to turn to short magazine articles rather than novels. The following excerpts from the contemporary criticism say more than enough about the novel.
‘The amount of utter trash in the novel is almost infinite – trash of conception, execution, dialogue and sentiment. Whoever buys the book on the strength of Melville’s reputation, will be cheating himself of his money….. To save it from almost utter worthlessness, it must be called a prose poem, and even then, it might be supposed to emanate from a lunatic hospital rather than from the quiet retreats of Berkshire.’ – {Gordon Greene, in Boston Post, August 4, 1852}
‘The novel… is a mass of incongruities, “ambiguities,” heterogeneities, absurdities, and absolute impossibilities. The characters are absurdly paradoxical and greatly overdrawn; the incidents are impossible, in real life, and the whole book is utterly unworthy of Mr. Melville’s genius. –{Washington National Era, August 19,1852.}
‘The most immoral moral of the story, if it has any moral at all, seems to be the impracticability of virtue… if it has any meaning at all, simply means that virtue and religion are only for gods and not to be attempted by man.’- {New York Literary World, August 21,1852}
‘Pierre, we take it, is crazy, and the merit of the book is in clearly presenting the psychology of his madness; but the details of such a mental malady as that which afflicts Pierre are almost as disgusting as those of physical disease itself.’ –Philadelphia Graham’s Magazine, October 1852
‘Mr. Melville is a man wholly unfitted for the task of writing wholesome fictions; that he possesses none of the faculties necessary for such work; that his fancy is diseased, his morality vitiated, his style nonsensical and ungrammatical, and his characters as far removed from our sympathies as they are from nature.’ George Washington Peck, in New York American Whig Review, November 1852
Despite such harsh remarks one can say that Herman Melville has written a novel much before the time where it can be tolerated and appreciated. I tried to recreate the novel ‘Pierre or the Ambiguities’ in a way that it will become the novel it should have been. [Please take it as a parody of sentimental novel. No offence] One purpose of writing all this is to tempt people to read the original. If you don’t want to buy the book than try to search it on the site called ‘Arthur’s Classic Novels’.
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I- Pierre Just Emerging From His Teens
Pierre was the only son of an affluent, and haughty widow; a lady who externally furnished a singular example of the preservative and beautifying influences of unfluctuating rank, health, and wealth, when joined to a fine mind of medium culture, uncankered by any inconsolable grief, and never worn by sordid cares. Through all the infinite traceries of feminine art, she evenly glowed like a vase which, internally illuminated, gives no outward sign of the lighting flame, but seems to shine by the very virtue of the exquisite marble itself. In mature age, the rose still miraculously clung to her cheek; litheness had not yet completely uncoiled itself from her waist, nor smoothness unscrolled itself from her brow, nor diamondness departed from her eyes. So that when lit up and bediademed by ball-room lights, Mrs. Mary Glendinning still eclipsed far younger charms, and had she chosen to encourage them, would have been followed by a train of infatuated suitors, little less young than her own son Pierre.
But a reverential and devoted son seemed lover enough for this widow Bloom; and besides all this, Pierre when namelessly annoyed, and sometimes even jealously transported by the too ardent admiration of the handsome youths, who now and then, caught in unintended snares, seemed to entertain some insane hopes of wedding this unattainable being; Pierre had more than once, with a playful malice, openly sworn, that the man – gray-beard, or beardless – who should dare to propose marriage to his mother, that man would by some peremptory unrevealed agency immediately disappear from the earth.
This romantic filial love of Pierre seemed fully returned by the triumphant maternal pride of the widow, who in the clear-cut lineaments and noble air of the son, saw her own graces strangely translated into the opposite sex. There was a striking personal resemblance between them; and as the mother seemed to have long stood still in her beauty, heedless of the passing years; so Pierre seemed to meet her half-way, and by a splendid precocity of form and feature, almost advanced himself to that mature stand-point in Time, where his pedestaled mother so long had stood. In the playfulness of their unclouded love, and with that strange licence which a perfect confidence and mutual understanding at all points, had long bred between them, they were wont to call each other brother and sister. Both in public and private this was their usage; nor when thrown among strangers, was this mode of address ever suspected for a sportful assumption; since the amaranthiness of Mrs. Mary Glendinning fully sustained this youthful pretension.
The day they decided to call each other brother and sister was a special day. It was apparently a usual June morning. Both of them were strolling in their backyard garden when the clouds opened up and a crack of thunder rent the air. Their house was a little far from them so they made in the direction of the fountain where there was a shelter where they could wait until the rain stopped. Pierre’ mother Mary ran as fast as she could with her skirts held up. She almost reached it when she stood on the hem of her skirt and tripped falling headlong onto the grass. She gasped a little as she was winded, then a firm pair of hands took hold of her.
“I’ll help you mom” said Pierre and pulled her to her feet.
Before she could know what was happening he swept her into his arms and carried her towards the shelter. By Gathering his mom in arms Pierre felt a strange pleasure running inside his body. By the time they reached the shelter they were both soaked somewhat. They stood looking bedraggled at each other and began to laugh. They waited for the rain to stop but it kept falling.
“Darling, I need to pee badly” suddenly she said,
“What! Lets wait for the rain to stop mother,” he said, meaning then she could go to a bathroom and do it proper.
“I can’t hold anymore, I need to relieve myself here,” Pierre listened with some surprise. Realizing they were entirely hidden from public view he nodded in affirmation. “Would you be kind enough to hold my dress,” she said nonchalantly,
“Okay, if that’s what you want me to do.”
She held herself so that Pierre could see her perform. He held her dress up and her ‘cut’ knickers came in full view. She positioned herself so that he got the best view inside her thighs that was further improved upon by her by spreading her legs slightly. She felt the air brushing between her thighs and knew that Pierre was enjoying the sight of her soft pink petals. She contracted her tummy and soon she could feel the warm liquid spurting from her body onto the ground. She felt her heart pound with the naughtiness of her activity.
“Ah, that felt nice” she sighed when she was empty.
Pierre was not expecting such a course behavior from his mother. His jaw dropped to his chest and a firm growth appeared to distort the front of his breeches. His mother finished and sighed with relief. She thanked him and looked at the area of frontal discomfort in him.
“I feel I have soaked my dress by pee as well, I wonder would you help me remove it?”
He hesitated briefly then fumbled at the back of her dress undoing the thin laces and clasps until the dress slid to the ground. She unfastened her petticoats and removed them one by one until she was clad only in her linen shift and knickers.
No further words were spoken between them. The small shelter had a table lying in it. Mary Glendinning laid herself on the table and widened her legs. Her fingers trembled with excitement as she fumbled with the buttons on Pierre’s breeches. After two more buttons she finally revealed his pink hard manhood. She hesitated and then opened her mouth to gorge herself on the hard pink rod. He felt very hard and tasted a little salty, but not unpleasant.
After making him harder she reluctantly allowed him to slip out her mouth. She watched as he moved between her legs. She remained on her side so that she could she him better. He took hold of his member and guided it towards her glistening petals. She looked him in the eye as his tip nudged against her opening. A clap of thunder rent the air as he finally slid inside her. He was rough with her, his animal lust overcame his tenderness, and he forced her legs apart and thrust up deep inside her warm wet tunnel. The mature woman gasped as if she was penetrated for the first time.
“Gently Brother” She said as a faint memory of her first fuck came to her mind.
“Okay sister” he replied because he always desired to have a sister older than him.
She smiled as his firm rod slid deep inside her warm, wet tunnel. She looked up at him. Their eyes met and she knew that they both wore expressions of lust and passion. He began to move inside her and she closed her eyes in a dream of pleasure and sensation. She saw him thrusting with gritted teeth and to her surprise she found herself doing the same. She heard the rain falling outside, and she heard the slick sound of her juices as he slid his organ inside and out of her.
She bit her lip and her breasts ached to be touched. As if he could read her mind, Pierre moved his hand down to rub her stiff nipples through the soft linen shift. She closed her eyes so that her senses could enjoy the moist movements within her body.
The fuck was short and intense. Pierre began to jerk as she felt him twitch inside her before he filled her tunnel with his spurts of hot sticky come. Felicity felt her body start to glow as she came closer to her orgasm, She lifted her bottom off the table as Pierre slipped out of her. Finally she relaxed back exhausted with something warm and wet oozing out of her pussy.
They collected their clothes and walked back to the house. As soon as they reached inside her bedroom they again took their cloths off. She lay back on the bed so that he could kneel between her legs. She raided her legs up and her knees were level with her breasts exposing her pink hole for his delight.
“Now ravish me brother” Mary snarled and pulled his lead so that he almost fell onto her. He placed his penis inside her and she gasped as she felt him fill her with his warm rigid length. She pulled his head down and began to kiss his mouth with quick kisses she took his lip in her teeth and pulled it gently as he continued his hard pumping into her body. “Come on” she said unable to believe her own voice “Harder, ravish me harder you beast.”
Soon she felt the hot burning inside her as his slick penis shafted her relentlessly and soon the warmth spread to seemingly every part of her body as she squealed and was wracked by the most intense orgasm she had ever felt. She saw lights; the sounds around her faded as the experience lasted for what seemed like an age until she felt Pierre changed his rhythm and soon he jerked and filled her tunnel with his copious hot emission.
They lay there regaining their breath, slowly returning to normality.
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II- Love, Delight, And Alarm
Pierre had arranged with his girl friend Lucy the plan of a long winding ride, among the hills which stretched around to the southward from the wide plains of Saddle Meadows. While Pierre and Lucy are now rolling along under the elms, let it he said who Lucy Tartan was. It is needless to say that she was a beauty; because chestnut-haired, bright-cheeked youths like Pierre Glendinning, seldom fall in love with any but a beauty. Her cheeks were tinted with the most delicate white and red, the white predominating. Her eyes some god brought down from heaven; her hair was Danae’s, spangled with Jove’s shower; her teeth were dived for in the Persian Sea.
She was the daughter of an early and most cherished friend of Pierre’s father. But that father was now dead, and she resided an only daughter with her mother, in a very fine house in the city. But though her home was in the city, her heart was twice a year in the country. It was fortunate for Lucy that her Aunt Llanyllyn – a pensive, childless, white-turbaned widow – possessed and occupied a pretty cottage in the village of Saddle Meadows; and still more fortunate, that this excellent old aunt was very partial to her, and always felt a quiet delight in having Lucy near her. So Aunt Llanyllyn’s cottage, in effect, was Lucy’s. And now, for some years past, she had annually spent several months at Saddle Meadows; and it was among the pure and soft incitements of the country that Pierre first had felt toward Lucy the dear passion which now made him wholly hers.
Pierre looked at his girlfriend and felt proud. From Lucy’s mouth and cheek came the fresh fragrance of her violet young being.
“Smell I the flowers, or thee?” cried Pierre.
“See I lakes, or eyes?” cried Lucy, her own gazing down into his soul, as two stars gaze down into a tarn.
Now, prone on the grass he falls, with his attentive upward glance fixed on Lucy’s eyes. “Thou art my heaven, Lucy; and here I lie thy shepherd-king, watching for new eye-stars to rise in thee. Ha! I see Venus’ transit now; – lo! a new planet there; – and behind all, an infinite starry nebulousness, as if thy being were backgrounded by some spangled veil of mystery.”
Is Lucy deaf to all these ravings of his lyric love? Why looks she down, and vibrates so; and why now from her overcharged lids, drops such warm drops as these? No joy now in Lucy’s eyes, and seeming tremor on her lips.
“Ah! thou too ardent and impetuous Pierre!”
“Nay, thou too moist and changeful April! know’st thou not, that the moist and changeful April is followed by the glad, assured, and showerless joy of June? And this, Lucy, this day should be thy June, even as it is the earth’s!”
“Ah, Pierre! not June to me. But say, are not the sweets of June made sweet by the April tears?”
“Ay, love! but here fall more drops, – more and more; – these showers are longer than beseem the April, and pertain not to the June.”
“June! June! – thou bride’s month of the summer, – following the spring’s sweet courtship of the earth, – my June, my June is yet to come!”
“Oh! yet to come, but fixedly decreed; – good as come, and better.”
“Then no flower that, in the bud, the April showers have nurtured; no such flower may untimely perish, ere the June unfolds it? Ye will not swear that, Pierre?”
“The audacious immortalities of divinest love are in me; and I now swear to thee all the immutable eternities of joyfulness, that ever woman dreamed of, in this dream-house of the earth. A god decrees to thee unchangeable felicity; and to me, the unchallenged possession of thee and them, for my inalienable fief. – Do I rave? Look on me, Lucy; think on me, girl.”
“Thou art young, and beautiful, and strong; and a joyful manliness invests thee, Pierre; and thy intrepid heart never yet felt the touch of fear; – but – "
She stopped speaking because she looked at the front of Peirre’s breeches that were showing his erect hidden phallus.
“With kisses I will suck thy secret from thy cheek! – but – what?”
She reached out her lithe little arms and ran her fingers through his hair. Then firmly grasping his head she brought it forward, nearly smothering him with her breasts. She rubbed her bulging tits back and forth across his face driving him mad with the sensuous feel of her aroused nipples encased in a lacy bra lightly covered by her dress. “Does Pierre like Mommie’s breasts?” Lucy cooed gently.
“Oh yes, Mommie!” answered Pierre eagerly. “I like them a lot!”
“Would Pierre like to kiss Mommie’s breasts?”
“Please, Mommie, please!”
“Perhaps Pierre should kiss them now, just to make sure!”
He cupped her red-clad breasts in his hands and nuzzled between them. Then he covered first the left then the right breast with light kisses, paying special attention to her protruding nipples. He could feel the filigree of her bra cups on his lips as his tongue darted out and flicked one of the hardened nipples back and forth. Lucy sighed huskily and stopped him for a moment, her hand on his head.
“Is Pierre hungry? Does he want Mommie to nurse him? Breasts are so much nicer than that stupid ol’ bottle!”
Pierre could feel his erection rapidly telescoping in his pants. He liked this game a lot!
“Oh yes, Mommie! I want to suck your breasts so bad!”
“I think you should take your pants and shirt off so that you can feels more comfortable,” Lucy said decisively. “And when you are done with that, you can help Mommie with her dress and bra.
Pierre speedily removed his pants and shirt, feeling slightly foolish standing there with his large and twitching cock tenting out in front. Lucy walked over to him and pirouetted around, presenting him with her back.
“Now Pierre, unzip Mommie’s dress.”
He did as he was told, finding the zipper beneath her long brown tresses and pulling it down. Lucy shrugged the red straps off her shoulders and let the dress drop to the ground around her ankles, keeping her back to him. All she had on were a white brassiere and lacy white knickers stretched tight across her round slender buttocks.
“And now can my big boy unhook Mommie’s bra?”
“I’ll try, Mommie!”
Pierre struggled with the little hooks for a moment before the deed was done. Lucy slowly turned to face him, her hands cupping her breasts, keeping the large bra cups in place. With a swift lithe movement she shrugged the bra straps off her shoulders and let go of the cups. The brassiere dropped to the ground and Pierre was presented with a sight that made his mouth water.
Freed from confinement, Lucy’s large rounded breasts swung low on her chest, graced with faint stretch marks and extravagantly large brown areolas. In the center of each areola was a stiff nipple the size of a thumb.
“For instance… I believe my ass is long overdue for some serious attention and worship. Pierre did an excellent job on my breasts - especially for such a young beginner - but it takes an older, more experienced man to appreciate a woman’s ass, don’t you think?”
“Very true, Ma’am!”
Lucy walked past Pierre and leaned forward on a tree with her hands on its trunk, her legs spread, and her magnificent bottom stuck up in the air.
“Would you be so kind as to come over here and tell me what you think, Pierre? Do I have a nice ass?”
Pierre stepped over to where Lucy stood bent over and squatted behind her. In this position he could see how her knickers hugged the contours of her buttocks. There was a wet stain in the knickers’ underside where they had been drenched with Lucy’s juices. The pungent odor of a woman in heat made his nostrils flare. A raw excitement began to build in his gut.
“I dare say Madam’s ass is unequaled for its bewitching beauty. The flawless texture of the skin just begs to be touched.”
“Yes, doesn’t it now?” Lucy said wryly. “Well, let’s take things in their proper order, shall we? I think it would be best if you controlled yourself and only touched my bottom with your nose, to begin with. Go ahead, Pierre, this is no time to dawdle!”
Pierre nosed against the unimaginably soft skin of her ass. She must use baby powder on it every day, he thought to himself, marveling at its smoothness. His nose slid across the satiny surface of her knickers and stopped at the crack in her ass. He nudged the material up into the crack, breathing deeply as he worked away. His nostrils were parked just above where the knickers hid her asshole when he felt her push herself back against his snout. There was a faint hiss of escaping gas and the dirty sweet smell of her anal vapors enveloped him. Pierre inhaled deeply and leaned his nose even deeper into the valley between her cheeks.
Lucy broke his reveries suddenly.
“Oh, Pierre, sorry to interrupt your meditations but this posture is beginning to tire me. Why don’t you remove my knickers with your teeth!”
Pierre shifted his legs to a kneeling position and grabbed the elastic band of her knickers with his teeth. He tugged and peeled the knickers slowly down over the expanse of her bottom. By pulling first on one side and then on the other, he was able to bring them down to the tops of her thighs. He paused. Lucy stood, brought her legs together and he grabbed the knickers again in his mouth and yanked them down her smooth shapely legs. They fell around her feet and she stepped daintily out of them.
Pierre was down on all fours and Lucy turned around and stood over him, her hands on her hips and her large brown nipples taunting him. For the first time Pierre had a chance to see her pussy. A thrill went through his body as he saw the profusion of thick pubic hair surmounting her cunt. The bush hung down in thick unruly curls, totally masking her pussy. Before he could catch his breath, Lucy quickly moved away.
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lll Misgivings And Preparatives
“Sister Mary,” said Pierre, returned from his sunrise stroll, and tapping at his mother’s chamber door: – “do you know, sister Mary, that the trees which have been up all night, are all abroad again this morning before you?”
A light step moved from within toward the door; which opened, showing Mrs. Glendinning, in a resplendently cheerful morning robe, and holding a gay wide ribbon in her hand.
“Good morning, Madam,” said Pierre, slowly, and with a bow, whose genuine and spontaneous reverence amusingly contrasted with the sportive manner that had preceded it. For thus sweetly and religiously was the familiarity of his affections bottomed on the profoundest filial respect.
“Good afternoon to you, Pierre, for I suppose it is afternoon. But come, you shall finish my toilet; – here, brother” – reaching the ribbon – “now acquit yourself bravely” – and seating herself away from the glass, she awaited the good offices of Pierre.
“First Lady in waiting to the Dowager Duchess Glendinning,” laughed Pierre, as bowing over before his mother, he gracefully passed the ribbon round her neck, simply crossing the ends in front.
“Well, what is to hold it there, Pierre?”
“I am going to try and tack it with a kiss, sister, – there! – oh, what a pity that sort of fastening won’t always hold! – where’s the cameo with the fawns, I gave you last night? – Ah! on the slab – you were going to wear it then? – Thank you, my considerate and most politic sister – there! – but stop – here’s a ringlet gone romping – so now, dear sister, give that Assyrian toss to your head.”
The haughtily happy mother rose to her feet, and as she stood before the mirror to criticize her son’s adornings. She had never yearned for admiration; because that was her birthright by the eternal privilege of beauty; she had always possessed it; she had not to turn her head for it, since spontaneously it always encompassed her. Pierre, noticing the straggling tie of her slipper, knelt down and secured it. She wiggled her exposed toes at him, showing off her dark red painted toenails. He carefully kneaded her feet, while she sighed contentedly. Coyly she grasped her gown and pulled so that the bottom hem rode up her legs to mid-calf.
“Madam is being quite risque!” Pierre observed dryly.
“Madam is feeling quite horny, Pierre! When it’s her time of the month she always has trouble keeping her hands off the servants!” she exclaimed. “But Madam is also feeling extremely lazy. Perhaps you’d assist me in preparing for my toilet?”
“Very good, Madam!”
“Here, Pierre, I suggest you kneel between my legs.” Mary Glendinning slid down in a chair and spread her legs in a brazen “v”. Pierre positioned himself on his knees between her feet. She slowly inched her gown up to her knees, then to mid-thigh, and finally gathered it up in front, all the way to her navel.
As Pierre had suspected, she was knicker-less, and as he knelt there awestruck, Mary flaunted her obscene cunt. She ran her little fingers through the mass of curly tendrils, grabbing a handful and tugging. She unveiled her unfurling clitoris and Pierre marveled anew at its mutant beauty. Then her hands slid the remaining pubic curls away from her vaginal lips. Her outer labia rippled at her touch, a wrinkled gash of moist flesh. She inserted two fingertips between them and spread the fluted lips back. There was a white string hanging from her inner lips, and the strong fishy bouquet of menstrual blood.
“Oh dear! I’m afraid I stink like a fishmonger’s wife! My sanitary device must be overdue for a change! Would you mind removing it for me? With your mouth, of course!”
Pierre quickly brought his head down to her potent crotch. The stench was terrific and he was afraid he might piss himself out of sheer olfactory overload. He stuck his nose right up against her cunt lips as he tried to lick the tampon string out of her fleshy folds and into his mouth. He held his breath and licked frantically, and finally succeeded in grasping the string between his teeth.
Pierre tugged his head back slowly and the bloody tampon appeared in her vaginal mouth. He yanked more forcefully and the engorged device exited with a pop, whacking him on the face and then hanging foolishly from his pursed lips. Pierre knelt there as if in a trance, as Mary slowly massaged her nether lips, pulling them wide apart. Time seemed to almost stand still as a small dribble of piss escaped from her demure pee-hole. Then Mary bore down with her muscles and a geyser of piss spurted out catching Pierre smack in the face. The elegant Victorian sighed lazily as she directed her flow all over Pierre’s head and chest, soaking him thoroughly. Then her piss subsided, dribbling back down to a few little squirts running down between her labia. Mary looked down at Pierre on the floor before her, and a sly grin came to her face, quickly suppressed.
“Dear me, Pierre! If you could only see yourself! You _are_ a sight! Please go clean up and dispose of that _thing_ at once!”
Pierre pinched the string away from his mouth and held the bloody tampon, now dripping urine as well, out at arm’s length as he tried to walk in a reasonably dignified manner over to the bathroom. He dropped it in the lidded garbage pail beneath the sink and peeled off his wet clothing. Stripped to his underpants, he rinsed his mouth and and quickly washed his face and upper trunk with warm water from the tap. Man this was intense! But at least he wasn’t jerking off! Score one for the gipper!
Water was still dripping off his nose as he returned to Mary , feeling sheepish.
“Why, Pierre! Was this exercise a strain? Oh dear! I don’t want to overtax my best manservant. Good help is _so_ hard to find! Here, walk me to my toilet and let me freshen up a bit. I think you need a moment’s rest.”
Pierre accompanied Mary to the bathroom door. She entered and shut the door behind her. Pierre walked a little unsteadily back to the easy chair and plopped himself down. What’s the matter Pierre? he asked himself. For the first time since he and his mother had become lovers he was feeling a slight hesitation.
It’s not like anything had really changed that he could tell. Her menstrual blood was hardly a big taboo for him anyway. He had certainly fantasized plenty about being bathed in fountains of pee spurting forth from the hairy pussies of elegant women. In agreeing to play with her he had certainly asked for it, hadn’t he?
The door to the bathroom opened and Mary emerged looking much refreshed. She had traded in the velvet gown for a simple shift. She looked more wholesome although the jiggling titflesh hanging low under her shift gave her a wanton edge.
“Oh, Pierre!” She called to him gently. “Come here and give me a big hug!”
Pierre grinned back, his spirits rising along with his cock. He went over to her and dropped to his knees so that his head was just high enough to tuck into the crevice between her bountiful breasts. He nestled his face against her tits, nuzzling the pebbly areole and gumming her nipples. His arms were wrapped around her hips, and his palms gripped her mighty bottom cheeks and squeezed.
“Well! That certainly is a big welcome!”
“I’ve missed you, sister!”
“And I’ve missed you too. I’ll bet you want to nurse.”
“Uh huh! I love your titties, sister. I really do!”
Mary led Pierre over to a waiting futon in another corner of the room, and placing a few pillows against the wall she sat down cross-legged. She unbuttoned the front of her shift to the navel and pulled out one of her giant brown-nippled baby-feeders. Pierre scrambled onto the futon, placed his head in her lap and gave suck.
His need was urgent and as he suctioned deeply against her flesh he calmed and his anxieties fled. Pierre felt the glow and security of a child safe in its mother’s arms. He wished he could stay like this forever.
Mary sighed as he sucked, little moans escaping now and then as the stimulation of the nerves in her tit made her cunt contract. The smell of an excited cunt began to penetrate into Pierre’s consciousness. Mary brought out her other breast and fed it to him. Pierre chewed gently on her nipple, making her gasp with pleasure-pain.
She reached over and sought his cock, grasping the hardened member tightly through the fabric of his underpants. She squeezed and jacked his organ a few moments and then stopped.
“Pierre? Give my tits a rest for just a moment. I have a confession to make and I want your help. All right?” Pierre sat up slowly, forced out of his reverie, but attentive to her request. “you’re getting to be a big boy now and I think I can let you in on a little secret. Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure, sister, I keep secrets real well!”
“Good. Now you know that ever since Daddy went away your mother has been without a man. You’ve been my little man and I’ve watched you grow as I’ve nursed you and fed you. Your little penis has grown into a big man’s cock, and you’ve got a big strong man’s body to go with it! Pierre, your Mother’s a weak woman. I try to deny it but I’ve got urgent needs. I need sexual release and I need to have certain things done to me to give me that release. Do you understand?”
“I think so. I feel funny sometimes too.”
“I’m sure you do! I hope you won’t be embarrassed if I admit that more than once I’ve caught myself dreaming of you and me in bed together . . . engaged in carnal congress! I’ve dreamt of your cock inside me as you bite my titties. Oh the shame of it all!”
Mary was really building this up, fleshing out this fantasy to new emotional depths. Pierre was very turned on, wondering just where it would go.
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lV Isabel, And The First Part Of The Story Of Isabel
So perfect to Pierre had long seemed the illuminated scroll of his life thus far, that only one hiatus was discoverable by him in that sweetly-writ manuscript. A sister had been omitted from the text. He mourned that so delicious a feeling as fraternal love had been denied him. Nor could the fictitious title, which he so often lavished upon his mother, at all supply the absent reality. This emotion was most natural; and the full cause and reason of it even Pierre did not at that time entirely appreciate. For surely a gentle sister is the second best gift to a man; and it is first in point of occurrence; for the wife comes after. He who is sisterless, is as a bachelor before his time. For much that goes to make up the deliciousness of a wife, already lies in the sister.
“Oh, had my father but had a daughter!” cried Pierre; “some one whom I might love, and protect, and fight for, if need be. It must be a glorious thing to engage in a mortal quarrel on a sweet sister’s behalf! Now, of all things, would to heaven, I had a sister!”
It may have been that this strange yearning of Pierre for a sister, had part of its origin in that still stranger feeling of loneliness he sometimes experienced, as not only the solitary head of his family, but the only surnamed male Glendinning extant. A powerful and populous family had by degrees run off into the female branches; so that Pierre found himself surrounded by numerous kinsmen and kinswomen, yet companioned by no surnamed male Glendinning, but the duplicate one reflected to him in the mirror. But in his more wonted natural mood, this thought was not wholly sad to him. Nay, sometimes it mounted into an exultant swell. For in the ruddiness, and flushfulness, and vain-gloriousness of his youthful soul, he fondly hoped to have a monopoly of glory in capping the fame-column, whose tall shaft had been erected by his noble sires.
Then one day he received a letter informing him about his sister Isabel. It ran as:
“The name at the end of this letter will be wholly strange to thee. Hitherto my existence has been utterly unknown to thee. This letter will touch thee and pain thee. Pierre Glendinning, thou art not the only child of thy father; in the eye of the sun, the hand that traces this is thy sister’s; yes, Pierre, Isabel calls thee her brother – her brother! oh, sweetest of words, which so often I have thought to myself, and almost deemed it profanity for an outcast like me to speak or think. Read no further. If it suit thee, burn this letter; so shalt thou escape the certainty of that knowledge, which, if thou art now cold and selfish, may hereafter, in some maturer, remorseful, and helpless hour, cause thee a poignant upbraiding. No, I shall not, I will not implore thee. – Oh, my brother, my dear, dear Pierre, – help me, fly to me; see, I perish without thee; – pity, pity, – here I freeze in the wide, wide world; – no father, no mother, no sister, no brother, no living thing in the fair form of humanity, that holds me dear. Nothing more; I will write no more; – silence becomes this grave; – the heart-sickness steals over me, Pierre, my brother. Scarce know I what I have written. Yet will I write thee the fatal line, and leave all the rest to thee, Pierre, my brother. – She that is called Isabel Banford dwells in the little red farm-house, three miles from the village, on the slope toward the lake. Tomorrow night-fall – not before – not by day, not by day, Pierre.
‘Thy sister, Isabel.”
This letter, inscribed in a feminine, but irregular hand, and in some places almost illegible, plainly attesting the state of the mind which had dictated it; – stained, too, here and there, with spots of tears, which chemically acted upon by the ink, assumed a strange and reddish hue – as if blood and not tears had dropped upon the sheet; – and so completely torn in two by Pierre’s own hand, that it indeed seemed the fit scroll of a torn, as well as bleeding heart; – this amazing letter, deprived Pierre for the time of all lucid and definite thought or feeling. He hung half-lifeless in his chair; his hand, clutching the letter, was pressed against his heart, as if some assassin had stabbed him and fled; and Pierre was now holding the dagger in the wound, to stanch the outgushing of the blood.
“Mystery! Mystery! Mystery of Isabel! Mystery! Mystery! Isabel and Mystery!”
Without wastig any time Pierre took up the journey to find his sister. As soon as he found his sister’s address, he knocked at the door of the house. The door opened up slowly and to his utter delight he was standing before his sister Isabel. No word was spoken; no other soul was seen. They entered the room of the double casement; and Pierre sat down, overpowered with bodily faintness and spiritual awe. He lifted his eyes to Isabel’s gaze of loveliness and loneliness; and then a low, sweet, half-sobbing voice of more than natural musicalness was heard: –
“And so, thou art my brother; – shall I call thee Pierre?”
Steadfastly, with his one first and last fraternal inquisition of the person of the mystic girl, Pierre now for an instant eyes her; and in that one instant saw in the imploring face, not only the nameless touchingness of that of the sewing-girl, but also the subtler expression of the portrait of his then youthful father, strangely translated, and intermarryingly blended with some before unknown, foreign feminineness. In one breath, Memory and Prophecy, and Intuition tell him – “Pierre, have no reserves; no minutest possible doubt; – this being is thy sister; thou gazest on thy father’s flesh.”
He sprang to his feet, and caught her in his undoubting arms.
“Thou art! thou art!”
He felt a faint struggling within his clasp; her head drooped against him; his whole form was bathed in the flowing glossiness of her long and unimprisoned hair. Brushing the locks aside, he now gazed upon the death-like beauty of the face, and caught immortal sadness from it. She seemed as dead; as suffocated, – the death that leaves most unimpaired the latent tranquillities and sweetnesses of the human countenance.
He would have called aloud for succor; but the slow eyes opened upon him; and slowly he felt the girl’s supineness leaving her; and now she recovers herself a little, – and again he feels her faintly struggling in his arms, as if somehow abashed, and incredulous of mortal right to hold her so. Now Pierre repents his over-ardent and incautious warmth, and feels himself all reverence for her. Tenderly he leads her to a bench within the double casement; and sits beside her; and waits in silence, till the first shock of this encounter shall have left her more composed and more prepared to hold communion with him.
She was a sight to behold. She had pinned her mane of brown hair up in a lavish Victorian bun atop her head, little wisps of fine hairs falling free on the back of her fine neck. She wore a floor length gown of black crushed velvet with a plunging front that showed her cleavage most generously. Judging from the bulge of her breasts under the dress, she had decided to forego a bra tonight. Pierre wondered to himself whether she had skipped her knickers as well.
The question of Tune occurred to Pierre. How old was Isabel? According to all reasonable inferences from the presumed circumstances of her life, she was his elder, certainly, though by uncertain years; yet her whole aspect was that of more than childlikeness; nevertheless, not only did he feel his muscular superiority to her, so to speak, which made him spontaneously alive to a feeling of elderly protectingness over her; not only did he experience the thoughts of superior world-acquaintance, and general cultured knowledge; but spite of reason’s self, and irrespective of all mere computings, he was conscious of a feeling which independently pronounced him her senior in point of Tune, and Isabel a child of everlasting youngness.
Now Pierre began to see mysteries interpierced with mysteries and mysteries eluding mysteries; and began to seem to see the mere imaginariness of the so supposed solidest principle of human association.
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