A Magnificent Pair

An eBook By Jay Lawrence.

Gazing through the veil was like being enshrouded in cloud, but she preferred its modest seclusion to being stared at by the men. There had been one in particular, a loathsome creature with a pockmarked complexion and a scar beneath his left eye, who had brushed up against her by way of an "accident," as the carriage lurched through a particularly pothole ridden stretch of the turnpike. He had apologized profusely in an oily manner, which reminded Frederica of the consistency of pomade. Her cheeks grew hot, recalling the brief, furtive grasp of his horrible hand on her left breast. It was almost as if his probing fingers had reached beneath the layers of winter clothing, insinuating themselves between the thin chemise and her warm, creamy flesh. Despite her disdain, she imagined those steely fingers continuing to explore and penetrate her, as she sat in the sullen, snoring company of her journey-benumbed companions. Perhaps it was true, after all. Perhaps she really was a harlot, as a true lady would never, ever allow such sordid thoughts to sully her virtue. But the phantom fingers continued to probe and press, causing her nipples to harden and her breasts to swell and tingle as if making milk for a squalling babe. They weren't gentle, either, but pinched and scratched and trailed a livid, lustful path...

The boys had called her a whore, for showing them her bare bottom, but they had demanded it! Angry, helpless tears filled Frederica's eyes. Her cousins, Wade and Thomas. For years, they had stalked her, taunted her like a rabbit in a trap, knowing full well that she could refuse them nothing, her security lying in the hands of their father, Uncle Frederick. She had been named for her father's brother and cursed the link, for he was as cruel as his evil sons. Well, they had taken everything she possessed, but not her pride and spirit. Nor her virginity.

Gathering her shawl about her shoulders, Frederica remembered the events of the summer, the final weeks at Gallowridge House. Oh, they were monsters, Wade and Thomas! Thomas, with his long hair and artistic pretensions, yet, in his own way, he was as vicious as his dominant brother, who already bore a reputation for violence. They had grasped her by the arms, one on each side, and marched her into the old playroom.

"Lie down on the carpet and pretend you are sleeping."

The sneering voice, as cold as the North Sea, and slowly, painfully, she assumed the desired position. The rug smelled of must and camphor.

"On your side. That's it. Now, remove your drawers and raise your skirt."

The frantic, helpless protestations and the blatant threats.

"You are an orphan, Frederica. Without our family's charity, you are destitute. Don't you understand? It's the poorhouse for you, if you don't comply. Or worse..."

Slowly unfastening the tangled ribbons of her long linen drawers and - oh, the shame of it - sliding them down to her ankles, feeling the cool air of the long abandoned playroom upon her slender calves and thighs. Resigned to the horror of her captivity, she had raised her skirt, as they commanded, closing her eyes against their hateful faces. To her surprise, they did not touch her, but lay down beside her, one

on either side, so that Thomas faced her front and Wade her back. She could feel their breath upon her hair and face, hot and moist and slightly sweet, for they had been eating cherries from the orchard. Then they shifted themselves, moving south, as it were, and she opened her eyes just a tiny crack, to see them staring, fascinated, at her private parts. Thomas had his angular face almost pressed against her sex. He gazed at the perfect, tawny curled mound as if mesmerized. But what could Wade be doing behind her back? She could not turn her head to look and risk their wrath, but her eyes slid sideways, observing that he, too, lay and stared, but this time at the trembling twin cushions of her bare bottom. Strangely, it was both agony and ecstasy. It seemed that they lay like that for an eternity, quite motionless and silent, and Frederica began to feel a desperate desire for something to happen, anything. Their eyes seemed to bore into her tender flesh and it was almost as if a tiny flame licked tentatively at the sensitive lips of her virginal sex and she flushed with shame, suddenly realizing that she longed to turn over onto her back and part her thighs, exposing all!

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