A Victorian Virgin? Ch. 05

Story Info
Victoria wakes up in Ned's arms.
9.1k words
4.18
22.7k
5

Part 5 of the 6 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/15/2006
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Sachs
Sachs
146 Followers

When he awoke in the morning, he was first conscious of the warm, rounded figure in his arms. Her back was to him, her braid partially caught under his own head, the rest of her hair a few inches from his nose. It smelt heavily of cheap soap and did not seem so silky in the early morning light. He did not care. His right arm was folded up against her back and he could feel her body expand against it with every breath. His left arm passed beneath her left and rested against the clothed curve of her left breast.

The next thing he became conscious of was the firm, soft swell of her buttocks pressed against his pelvis. His bodily response was partially brought on by the need to pee, partially by the effects of sleep, but mainly by the knowledge that his dick was only inches from her tight cunt. He remembered the look on her face the night before and moved his body away; the last thing she needed was to awake to a prod in the posterior. As he did so, she rolled over, and her arms came around his neck, pulling his mouth down against hers. He felt himself stiffen in response to the movement of her warm lips and the soft, but firm, mounds of her breasts against his chest. When she finally released him, she was smiling.

"What was that for?" Ned asked her.

"You didn't leave me here."

It sounded like the line from a fairytale play. But this was no play. He was no hero, come to save her from the abyss that was the East End; he had nowhere to take her. She was no heroine, no Cinderella; her recent falls from grace had been her own fault. They were both flawed and far from idealistic. He worried that, if he bedded her, he might never want her again. It had happened before. He didn't want that to happen. He couldn't let it happen.

Abruptly, Ned pulled away. "Have you got a chamber pot?"

Victoria nodded. "Under the bed."

She watched as he took the small, shining white pot from beneath the bed, thankful that she had emptied her own urine from the bowl the day before. Bodily functions were never supposed to be mentioned, the evidence of them never seen.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him unbutton the grey fly of his trousers. She knew from previous inspection that he had quite a noticeable bulge there. From within the trousers she saw the white fabric of his drawers and something else, something meaty, edging its head out of the opening in the front of the drawers. She gasped as his hand reached for his thick organ and quickly averted her gaze in fright as his eyes met hers.

"Are you watching me?" Ned asked.

Her head trembled as she gasped, "No- I- No-"

"Do you want to...?" He let the question hang, feeling himself stiffen even more as he regarded her embarrassed, red cheeks. He sure as hell couldn't pee now.

"No-" Victoria felt heat rise to her face and chest like a wave of fire. Her insides were melting, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"You didn't let me finish the question," Ned accused with a smile. "I was going to ask whether you wanted to get breakfast."

"No, you weren't." Victoria's eyes flashed back to his groin, which he had endeavored to cover with a protective hand.

He sat on the bed beside her, feeling the warmed fabric where his body had so recently lain against hers. The lumpy straw mattress beneath pressed through its shabby lining and into his buttocks. He had already inspected the bedding for fleas and found none, thank god. As he lay back, he heard the springs groan beneath his weight, and wondered for the umpteenth time exactly what was holding this platform up. It was only a thin, single bed, perhaps it would not hold two people for terribly long. He felt Victoria's body shuffle from his side.

He moved closer to clasp the soft curve of her waist, knowing that the wall barred her from moving any further away. Her head turned to face his, the soft lips tantalizingly close. "Please don't-" he heard her gasp into his opened mouth. It was a different protestation from the one she had given the night before. The air around her was live with arousal. He could feel it in the trembling flesh of her hip, see it in the sweat forming upon her brow and smell it in the faint, musky smell of the female sex that seemed to cling about her body like a skin. When he kissed her, her lips were flaccid for a moment, then they started to respond strongly. In a simultaneous maneuver, she had turned her body toward his, pulled his mouth down tightly against hers and pushed her tongue inside his mouth. She pressed her full breasts into his chest, her arms pulling him so close that their heartbeats seemed to be one. At the same time, she kept her hips as far from his erection as possible. The fluid movements of her full lips, arching breasts and to a lesser extent, her tightly closed thighs that every now and then jolted his member, were incredibly arousing. It was his turn to gasp when she finally let him go.

He had to pull away. "I think you should get dressed," Ned whispered to Victoria. "We should get breakfast, then I have to go. First I'll urinate, though." He told himself that it was the right thing to do, to leave the act undone, the words unsaid. Then he could never hate her. For a second, he saw her eyes gleam with disappointment, then she turned back toward the wall as he tried to make himself flaccid. It did not work. Quickly, and rather painfully, he buttoned his arousal back into his trousers. She left the bedding a moment later, her face partially obscured by her braid and the lean of her head, so that he could not see the tears ebbing upon her dark eyelashes. With her back to him, she reached for a drab gray dress, which had been draped carefully across the chair before he sat upon it. She took that cage of womankind, the corset, from the top drawer of her chest, along with a fresh pair of drawers.

"Do you want me to wait outside?" he asked.

"If you like," she muttered, as she slammed her hands against the drawer. A corner of fabric caught in the crack and it would not shut. She pulled the handle back and slammed again.

He caught her arm as she did so, forcing her to face him. He saw the slippery rivulet of tears decorating her bruised cheek and it jolted his heart. "Don't cry."

Victoria shook his arm off. "I'm not," she snapped, without assurance.

"Please don't cry."

Her anger was like a furnace of hot fire, rushing over her soft features and turning them to hardened steel. Her eyebrows angled downward like knifepoints, over narrowed, spearhead eyes. "I'm not crying. Just let me dress myself."

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked, slyly, as his hands caught her shoulders.

"No. I can manage perfectly well on my own." Her words savagely severed his hold on her body as she struggled away. "Leave me be."

Victoria turned away from the doctor, warm with the knowledge that he was watching her. She shouldn't be so angry with him, she told herself, he had respected her when she had said she didn't want to. But she had wanted to. Her arousal was burning through her body, driven onwards by her thundering heart. She could feel the heat rising to her face and limbs. The hairs upon her body stood erect, as did her nipples. She felt the wetness between her legs increase as the strange muscles down there began to contract. Maybe Ned would notice, maybe he would- but it would hurt- wouldn't it?

There was no ladylike way to undress with a man in the room. It would be best if she did so quickly, would it not? Quickly, she stripped away Ned's coat, then the shawl beneath, and finally her nightshirt, revealing her completely bare body to Ned's eyes. He saw her white flesh, curved like the body of a violin, so close that if he wanted to, he could touch her. The waist so narrow that he could almost contain it within two hands, flared to wide hips with beautifully soft, round buttocks. As he watched, she bent over to climb into her drawers and the cleft between those buttocks gently eased open, the flesh on either side flexing to step into the fabric. He nearly cried out as he saw the plump, pink lips guarding the entrance of her body. His loins pounded with blood as he took a deep breath and tried to look away. He couldn't.

A flash of white, and fabric covered her bottom. She straightened up, the muscular furrow of her back contracting and relaxing like a snake. The curves of her breasts jutted out as she bent forth and raised her arms to accommodate the neck of her corset. It was loose, but fully laced, he saw, so that she could dress herself without assistance. The bones of the garment strained as she pulled her body upright, her accustomed hands tugging the laces to tightly squeeze her body into shape. As much as he hated those garments, he couldn't help feeling aroused as she trapped herself within her clothing. He imagined what it would be like to release those bonds and see her body, those flattened, soft breasts bulge into their natural form in front of his eyes.

He noticed that she was having trouble finally securing the laces at the base of the corset. Quickly, he advanced to her side, a gentle hand upon her bare shoulder and took the knot from her hand. As he secured the laces in place, he found his lips tracing the skin upon her naked neck. He felt her skin shiver beneath his mouth and hastily withdrew, his loins stiffening violently. "You shouldn't wear that," he rebuked her, more strongly than he had intended. "Have you any idea what one of those things does to your internal organs?"

She took a deep breath before replying in an acidic voice, "It keeps me warm and ensures that my clothing fits. It cannot be that dangerous or the entire medical profession would be warning all women against wearing such devices."

Ned recalled the unnatural placement of the organs of some of the female cadavers he had dissected and shivered. "Corsetry will do you no good. Trust me."

"It isn't any of your business what I wear," Nightingale snapped.

He withdrew, quickly. "Very well. I'll wait outside until you are finished."

She heard the door unlock, open and then sweep shut, leaving her alone in the room with her thoughts. She wished she didn't behave as she had, wished that her tongue's sharp edge would be blunted. For some silly reason, her mind rushed back to Charlotte. Charlotte always knew what to say. Charlotte had a husband who loved her. Charlotte put people at ease, whilst Victoria put people's backs up. There was resentment there, there always had been. Try as she might, Victoria could not escape it. If she were Charlotte, what would Charlotte do now? Perhaps it would be best to carry on as if it didn't happen. Victoria quickly dressed herself in the remaining clothing, then brushed her hair. When she opened the door, Edward Hawke was gone.

He was halfway down the stairs to the road before he stopped and wondered what on earth he was doing. Walking away, just like that, pretending that nothing had ever happened. Leaving Victoria and his new hat, and his coat behind. The loss of the latter two belongings was almost as brittle as losing the woman herself, or at least he attempted to tell himself so, lying to himself that he didn't love her.

Victoria. After seeing her bruised face crack into tears, her eyes flowing with emotion, he had wanted to save her. His motives had passed the desire to lay her on her back and give her a good rogering. But now he was afraid of her, because she alone had seen what no-one else had for such a long time, the glimmering soul hidden beneath the mask. Try as he might, he could not dominate her as he had intended, as he had done so to the other girls. He could not even make the words shooting from the tip of his tongue say what he meant. She had a hold over him. It made him uncomfortable.

He couldn't just leave her there. There, in that cupboard of a room, without light or warmth like some plant locked in a closet. He could not leave her isolated in a cage in the wilds of Spitalfields, the masses and murderers and rapists all ready to pounce the minute his back was turned. He could not leave her because he loved her.

It was as if an invisible thread bound them soul to soul. She was part of him because she had seen him for what he really was, just as he had seen her. When their tears had fallen, the chain had been forged. He was dammed if it was broken, even if he did so himself. If he walked away, he would be walking away without his soul. He had gone for years without really seeing or feeling, now he could feel reality like a paper-sharp cut on his finger. It hurt. But then, it was supposed to. If he left Victoria, he would never feel the pain or the pleasure of life again. It was attainder for his self-execution.

Quickly he turned upon his axis and ran up those creaking, narrow steps, back onto the ridged bones of the hallway floorboards. There she was, her face cracked like a mirror, staring into space. In the dull light, facilitated by grimy windows to the left of the stairwell, he made out the yellow blossoms of bruising upon her sallow skin. He saw the dark hollows under her eyes and in her cheeks. Her dark hair was dull as death and did not shine from its coiled chignon. Lifeless shone in her eyes, as if she were eaten from the inside. He had seen the same stare in his own reflection. She was consumed with pain and fear, just as he was. He believed that she would surely die if he left her.

As he neared her, the apparition vanished. Life pumped through her arteries, her capillaries, the surrounding tissues. Her eyes flashed with verve, a quick replacement of the anger and pain that had run through her glance. He saw the betraying crease had formed between her eyebrows and that her lips had formed a hard, sharp line.

"I'm sorry," Ned whispered. "I don't know why I did that." He pressed his lips against hers and pushed her backward into the room. Suddenly his voice was husky. "We both wanted something back there, but we both pulled back."

"I don't appreciate-" Victoria began, brutally. Then her desire chipped in. Her body slammed the door as she let herself be rammed against it. Her hands tore at the buttons of his jacket, her frantic mouth devouring his lips. She felt the prickle of his unshaven cheek against her skin, a direct contrast to the smooth hands running inside her drawers. She heard fabric strain then rip, perhaps from the button that was now in her hand, or the drawers that were now around her ankles. Her hands were on his naked chest, rushing down to his free him of his belt. At this point, his fingers took over and her eyes flashed up to his face. She thought she saw fear flicker through his features, but it melted quickly away. He thrust against her hips again, and this time she felt his hard, hot flesh contact her thighs. His hands grasped at her legs and she found herself opening to him. The next thrust was not painful but she screamed anyway as she found him suddenly all the way inside her body. His fingers held her cheeks, her skirt was about her waist and her eyes were shut as she screamed once more.

The door banged against its old metal hinges again and again with the force of their bodies. He could feel the hard wood crush his knuckles with every thrust into her body. Her buttocks contracted in his grip as her pelvis drove against his. He'd never picked her as a screamer, but with every movement she seemed to yelp or cry. To be honest, it irritated him. She wasn't in pain and was far from climax. He placed his mouth over hers and caught her hot breath in his mouth as he increased the tempo. He wanted to part her further, to take himself deeper into her body, but she did not seem to understand when he cupped her thighs to pick her up.

It did not last long, she thought, until she heard Ned begin to grunt and felt the organ inside her contract. He pulled out quickly, and she saw a creamy liquid stain his handkerchief. For a moment, he seemed to shake, then he spoke. His voice was coarsened with exertion, "You've made a bit of a mess of my shirt." He was right; when she looked at his chest, she saw that not one, but four of the buttons had been completely ripped from their fastenings.

"You've made a mess of my underwear," she concluded as she regarded the torn fabric of her drawers.

"We're both a mess. I-" What could he say? Biology had finally taken over his brain, and hers by the looks of it. "That was good- That was really good-"

"It didn't hurt-"

"It's not supposed to-" He had to check. He had to know whether Sam Morpeth was correct about Victoria's state. He hadn't felt any barrier, he'd slipped straight inside. But that could have been due to her arousal, or his eagerness. He told himself that he did not really care to know. Indeed, what troubled him more was that he had not felt her climax; that impacted directly upon his own performance.

"What are you doing?" Victoria felt his fingers run along the hot, wet flesh of her inner thigh and almost unexpectedly enter her body. Quickly, he withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Both of his thoughts had been confirmed. Sam Morpeth was correct and he was damned sure she had not come.

"There's no blood," she gasped, and he could hear the surprise and almost frenzied desperation in her voice. "There has to be." Her hand quickly scraped her body but she the only fluid she found was clear. "I don't understand-" her eyes rushed up to his face and she thought she saw disappointment. "I'm a v- I was- I promise you, you were the first man I'd done that with. Please, you have to believe me. I promise you, I was a virgin- Please-" She could hear her voice cracking as she tore her mind to pieces. How could this happen? It just didn't make sense at all. Her mind filtered back over all her past experiences until it became fixed on one particular horrible night, two nights previous. The man standing beside her bed, touching himself as she slept- But there had been no blood then either, because he had not done anything. Her clothing had been completely intact, just as she had assumed her body to be. What then? When had it happened? Where did she lose her prized virginity?

Ned could see the turmoil in Nightingale's mind reflected through her eyes. She did not know, she did not remember her rape. That was a good thing. She never needed to know. He would keep the same secret that her sister had kept for ten years. "Victoria-" he began. What lies had they told him at medical school to explain the existence of sluts born of clergymen? "It does not matter. Quite often, a woman's barrier is breached whilst she is young-"

Her response was almost violent in its volume, "No! I told you I was a virgin. You were the first man ever- The first man I have ever let do that. I wouldn't just do that with anyone-"

"You didn't let me finish," Ned said, quietly. "What I was going to say is that the hymen- that's what the membrane of virginity is called- is often breached in young girls due to normal everyday activities. That is, running, walking, falls. Oh, and especially horseback riding for some reason." Or because the daughters of clergy are just sluts, he added, internally. "It is most likely that that is what has occurred with you. Not because of any immoral action that you may have taken, but as a natural consequence of movement. That is beside the point. I do not care whether you have done it before or not, in fact it makes it a lot easier when both parties have done it before. There's no pain or mess. Anyway, I love you for what you are, not what your body is. You could be crippled and I'd still love you."

There was a pause before Victoria said, "If that's true, why did you put your hand there? And why did you look so disappointed when you looked at it and saw no blood?"

"I was checking to see whether you'd climaxed. I didn't feel it if you did, but you are pretty wet so you may have. The thing is, let me be completely honest with you, you're the sort that deserves to have love made to her- not that. Especially not your first time. It was good for me, but not good for you. It was me taking advantage."

Sachs
Sachs
146 Followers