Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf Ch. 01

* After reading Fifty Shades of Grey, my partner expressed her disappointment at how it, her first erotic novel, was so tame. I offered to write her something a little better. She enjoyed it and I hope you do too. Comments are very welcome.

*

Lucy was a naughty little girl. Deep down she knew this; her fevered dreams of domination, of consensual abuse proved as much and, despite her naive efforts to repress her lust she knew she couldn't deny this aspect of her person and that it was only a matter of time before she had to submit to those growing urges; to unlock and give scandalous assent to her subversive fantasies. And so it came to be, one summer morning that brought heat to repressed longing, that Little Lucy would forever, but quite willingly, lose her sweet innocence.

She had been born and lived eighteen years in the small and quaint village of 'Boring' where the silence was broken only by the bell of the postman's bike, the clatter of empty milk bottles and, on a day like this, the distant 'clok' of a cricket ball on a bat accompanied by mild applause, an audible metaphor for English restraint and etiquette. It was calm, it was tranquil, but behind the pleasantries and the smiles and the first-name terms of all the residents was there happiness? Or contentment? Not for Little Lucy. And not for Richard.

He had not been born there but had settled, seeking a calming of the nerves, a sense of place. But just like the girl he was about to meet, his own mind and dream narratives would never allow him to be content until they were satisfied.

And yet, for all their similarities, there were contrasts between this girl and this lonely man. She had lived her full eighteen years in that bubble of naivety and, although a young woman, was inexperienced in the ways of that world beyond the borders she had never crossed. She still dressed in a youthfully innocent fashion, seemingly unaware of the effects her fulsome figure may have if regarded by those from outside that secluded community, their minds more open to physical possibilities. He had travelled extensively, had lived and worked in more urban places that would make Caligula blush. Indeed, it had been the daily confrontation with unadultered depravity that had driven him to that sleepy village. Although, if you had asked him, he would say otherwise, he knew, deep down, that he couldn't deny his own urges and temptations; his mind had been opened to a world considered sinful, he could never regain the innocence he had lost.

That scandalous morning, as the tempting heat of the summer sun streamed through both their bedroom windows, they had woken, washed and dressed, unaware of the footsteps of destiny guiding them to the crossroads. He, despite the heat, in his customary black three-piece suit and red tie; she in a blue dress not unlike Lewis Carroll's Alice: long, over-the-knee white socks with black bows at their tops; the delicate white lace of her petticoats affording a glimpse of her smooth, white thighs. He applied gel to his dark hair and combed it into his preferred style; ordered and tidy. She brushed her long hair so that the dark strands cascaded over her shoulders, a black bowed hair band on her crown.

His ablutions over, Richard slipped on polished black shoes and left his house for a Sunday walk. Lucy, however, still needed to apply her black eyeliner, her blood red lipstick and pull on her black, high-heeled shoes. And so it was that he was present at the fateful, secluded spot before her.

A picture of innocence, a symbol of temptation, she was ready. Despite the sun, she decided that her grandmother's house needed brightening, it needed flowers, and she knew just the spot to the find the best and most colourful.

Near the village there was a forest in which was a meadow; secret and undisturbed, and, basket under crooked arm, Lucy left the house and strolled through the village to meet the dirt track which would lead her to her destiny. It was close enough to walk to but long enough away for her to be totally alone... or so she thought.

The sun beat down on her, tanning her bare arms, and she was glad she'd had the forethought to bring a bottle of water in her basket. She paused on the dry dirt track and took a greedy glug of water as the weak breeze stirred the pine trees about her. A little trickle of water ran from her overflowing mouth and made a lazy trail down, over her chin, her neck, and into the fulsome cleavage at her chest. As the cool fluid caressed her breast she felt an electric thrill tingle her nipples encased in the cotton of her dress. Her mind went instantly to that forbidden place and her thighs warmed with moist desire. She considered, for the briefest of moments, acting on the sensation but, despite her secret longing, Little Lucy wanted so much to be a good girl like all the others that she, as usual, repressed the urge and, after a deep breath and an exhale like an exorcism, continued her stroll towards her destination.

After twenty minutes of walking though the forest, she emerged into a sunlit meadow of blue flowers. It was a welcome relief from the stifling humidity of the trees and sweat had begun to flow from her, leaving a dull sheen on her bare skin. She'd had to stop several times to drink from her bottle and it now lay three-quarters empty in the basket. She didn't like the forest very much; there was a formless intimidation in its shadowed confines, a sense of a hidden gaze, and the open space of the meadow before her was a release from that feeling which was simultaneously fearful and exciting. She stepped between the flowers and began to select the best for her basket.

She was humming as she worked and it was this sweet yet mournful tune which stirred Richard from where he lay asleep beneath a tree at the edge of the glade. Opening his eyes, she spied amongst the fragrant flowers a vision of beauty so perfectly attuned to his particular fancy that he thought initially that he must still be dreaming. For here, about thirty feet in front of him, was a girl shining with innocent sweat, dressed in blue and perfect white, bending for flowers, and each time she did so he could espy, through the sheer lace of her petticoats, the white cotton of panties which surely contained a bud of such loveliness that his tongue tingled as before a feast of delicacies.

He could not move, he dared not, lest he shatter this vision of fragile beauty and forever be lost from that which he had waited his whole life to find.

In the end it was her who brought about his transition from voyeur to participant. Her senses primed by her lonesome walk through the forest she felt the downy hairs on her arms prickle and, glancing up, discerned his dark shadow amongst the shade. At first she was uncomfortable with the sudden knowledge of company, not least because the desire of before had not abated, but, having grown up in a village where everyone was on first-name terms and a stranger was to be welcomed rather than feared, she approached that dark spot under the trees.

As she stepped into the edge of the shade, she stopped and regarded him for the first time. Was this not the new man in the village? A recent addition to the company of inhibitors but one who kept himself to himself? Lucy had to admit that her regard of him stirred that desperate longing between her thighs. He was dressed in such solemn black, such ordered formality that, before he even spoke, she was struck by an excited fearfulness.

"Good morning," he said, and his voice was of a rich culture and warmness that she felt immediately and irrevocably infatuated.

"Hi," she smiled back, unaware of how she was nervously pressing the toe of her right shoe into the soft grass, or of how this accentuated his desire for this fragile little thing he had discovered.

"And what is your name?" he asked.

"Lucy," she replied with a coquettish smile and his own infatuation was complete.

"I'm Richard," he told her, and she smiled that nervous beatific smile once more.

There was a silence that passed self-consciously as they regarded each other, their unspoken desire electricity in the air. A bird sang far off on a branch as Richard struggled to think of something to say to maintain this relationship before it slipped through his fingers. As for Lucy, she also feared an ending and she could feel that all the water she had drunk earlier was having inevitable consequences.

"Collecting flowers, eh?" he asked and she knew she had to stay.

"Oh yes, this is the best spot for them. I didn't know anyone else knew about this spot." And she stepped closer, into the shade where he sat with hungry eyes.

"Well, I like to get away from it all sometimes, the village isn't always peaceful enough for me," he told her as he regarded her long legs with their white socks.

"I'm just the same... but aren't you hot?" she asked.

"I was just thinking the same thing," he smiled and shrugged off his black jacket. She giggled, and he felt a painful stirring in his trousers.

"However," he continued, "I think it's important for people to dress appropriately."

"Surely your suit isn't appropriate for this heat?"

"But it is important for people to get the right impression of me. These things count, you know."

"Mysterious and handsome, I see," she flashed him her teeth through a desirous smile. "And what do you make of me then?"

His breath caught as she twirled, the hem of her skirt spinning out, revealing her white panties and the curve of her backside.

"Perfection..." he let slip a moment later and she stopped twirling. They gazed at each other for another moment and he felt like he was drowning in her eyes... willingly.

She felt a pain in her bladder; she so desperately needed to go and now there was no chance to she felt the excited craving for release grow all the more insistent. Her knees involuntary moved together and Richard was overcome by the lustful urge to pull them apart but he mastered himself. The time was not yet ripe.

"Why don't you sit down?" He gestured to the space next to him.

Her mind was in turmoil; she knew that she had to leave, to find some other secluded spot and pee because she'd never make it back to the village in time, but she couldn't bring herself to leave this man, a symbol of all she had repressed for so long. With sweat on her brow, she assented and slid herself down next to him, placing her basket on the grass nearby.

"Do you have water?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Would you like some? Help yourself."

He levered himself up and retrieved the bottle. She watched him as he greedily drank from it and couldn't stop her eyes straying to his crotch. Was that a bulge she could discern? She felt yet another thrill as she realised her power over him. This only served to remind her of her urgent need to pee however and she placed her hands in her lap in a vain attempt to control herself.

"Are you alright?" His voice snapped her back to reality. She looked up and he was standing over her.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" she gazed up at him, her eyes round and wide with feigned innocence.

"You've fidgeted a lot since you sat down," he told her and then, as if in apology, "I notice these things."

"Well... I..." She stumbled over the words, stumbled over all the inhibitions and repressions that had come to be symbolised in this one moment: she sat below her fantasy with a dreadful need to escape.

He knelt down and placed his hand on her left knee and his smooth fingers caressed the skin, sending shivers up her legs.

"Hey, it's okay," he cooed, overcome by a warm burning in his chest, "Can I help?"

"No... I... Well, I just need to... you know- go."

"Oh," he looked crestfallen, "I'm sorry."

She giggled despite herself but stopped when she felt the flood hit the dam.

"No, silly! I mean 'go'. As in..."

"Oh!" He brightened again and it was if the sun shone out the brighter.

"I can't get back home in time," she looked at him and her voice lowered, "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go either, Lucy."

She looked over her shoulder and regarded the forest. She began to get up.

"Maybe over there... wait a minute-"

"No," he grabbed her arm and she was a little afraid at the strength in those fingers.

"What?" she gasped.

He released his grip and gently, almost imperceptibly, stroked with his finger tips the spot where he had held her.

"Well..." He'd started, he had to finish, and despite his reasons for moving to that village, he couldn't deny how he really felt, not now with her before him. "I just think that it's about time that we all started shrugging off some of these inhibitions of ours. I mean, we could be good friends, yes?"

She nodded eagerly.

"And best friends have to share things, right? Well... why not share everything from the start?"

She frowned in thought.

"You mean," she began, "you want me to go here... with you?"

"I... yes."

He closed his eyes as before a fall. There, it was done. He had met the girl of his dreams, a beautiful thing of fragility and innocence clad in the pristine angelic white of perfection, and he had confessed his deepest desire- the need to break down those barriers of restriction and censorship and denial and experience with her a moment of connection so unadulterated, so pure and personal that she should surely now run for the hills. Richard wasn't sure that he couldn't stop himself pursuing her.

In the end, he didn't need to.

"Okay."

Two syllables but they rode a tidal wave of emotion and passion.

He opened his eyes and regarded this pretty little girl, her mischievous smile enough to break his heart.

"Okay?" He had to be sure.

"Yes. You're right. I want to lose my inhibitions. I feel like such a prisoner sometimes. I want to wake up one morning and not deny who I really am."

And she stood up over him and gazed down with nervous eyes. Her hands were shaking as she took hold of the hem of her blue skirt and petticoats. And then, with an agonising slowness and her lower lip held between her teeth, she raised her skirt up over her thighs to reveal her white panties. Richard breathed in deeply as he could suddenly detect a sweet scent in the air before him. Her eyes closed and her inner thighs worked together and she strove to overcome the automatic inhibitors trained into her from childhood. He held his breath and felt like he was on the edge of a precipice as he waited for his darkest fantasy to enact itself before him.

And then, with a moan, Little Lucy began to wet her little white panties.

It started as tiny dark patch on the front of her underwear but quickly spread as the cotton became saturated with the nectar flowing from her pussy. Richard's cock began to positively hurt as he watched the liquid run down from her panties and over her smooth thighs. Her socks too became stained with her innocent piss and her shoes shone dully in the light as it trickled over them to the grass beneath.

She let out a sighing laugh and gave herself over entirely to the feeling of release, not only from the need to pee but also, on a deeper level, the inhibitions that had ruled her life. She smiled widely as the second wave rolled over her and, hooking her fingers into where her panties covered her labia, she pulled them aside to reveal her shaved, pink pussy.

A stream of piss jetted out of her and onto Richard's lap. He gasped but did not move, not wanting the pleasure to end or be interrupted. Lucy was lost on an ocean of personal pleasure and the sound of her flowing water was all that filled the fragrant air. Her thighs shone with her own piss and her socks were saturated.

At last, as all things must, it was over and the last few drops of pee fell from her fingers to the grass. She exhaled deeply and felt reborn.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Her eyes opened and she looked down at her saviour. A moment of deep understanding passed between them. And then Richard could no longer help himself.

He lunged forward and gripped the backs of her thighs, thrusting his face into her crotch. She gasped and allowed herself to fall back onto the soft ground behind. He pushed his mouth hard into her wet panties and sucked at the damp cotton to drink down her pee.

She placed her wet right hand in his hair as he licked at her and she realised that now all those deep, dark dreams would come true. She was scared but that only added to her excitement as this mysterious and powerful man devoured her in the most subversive way.

He licked at the inside of her thighs, the piss on them wetting his cheeks. Then he hooked his fingers into the top of her panties and tugged. She knew instinctively what he meant and lifted her pelvis to allow him to continue as he saw fit. He wrenched her underwear from her legs and placed it in his trouser pocket before returning to regard her pussy before his mouth. He paused, examining the pink entrance to her soul, a slit of skin, and she closed her eyes once more, preparing herself.

Then she felt the soft warmness of his tongue probing at her pussy tentatively, teasing her with the point. It ran from her pussy hole up its lips to the little pink bud of her clitoris where it paused and flicked a couple of times, sending electric shivers up her spine. She groaned and felt almost ready to orgasm before he had truly begun.

He widened his jaw and took more of her pussy into his mouth, forcing his tongue up into her and her grip on his hair tightened and she began to moan loudly, her thighs gripping his head. He began to growl as he greedily ate her pussy and she glanced down at him between her legs. His animalistic sounds only increased the force of the waves of pleasure which rocked her milky white body.

Her juices flowed into his mouth and his taste buds tingled with their sweet flavour. He gulped her down and his fingers dug into the skin of her thighs. He began to lap at her clit and Lucy, feeling the rush of sensation from her clit to the rest of her extremities, began to rock her hips up and down in anticipation of the first climax with this mysterious but sexy stranger.

"Oh... Oh.... OH, FUCK!" She screamed an expletive she'd never before even whispered but which was so appropriate for this moment, and several birds flew from branches in fear. She came hard and fast and she pulled his head with both hands into her cunt as the waves of electric pleasure ran through her body. Richard couldn't breathe as the soft flesh of her pussy enveloped his mouth and for a moment he contemplated suffocating in her skin, but his objectives were not yet complete.

He sat back and unzipped his damp trousers. Panting from her orgasm, Lucy levered herself up on her elbows and regarded him, her eyes finding his crotch and staring fixedly at the bulge in his wet shorts. She felt suddenly hungry for his cock; she could clearly see the size from the tent it had made out of his shorts and she greedily wanted it to fill her mouth. When he pulled open the front and loosed his cock she only took a moment to observe how hard and thick-veined she had made it become before she leapt forward to her hands and knees and hungrily slid it between her lips. So voracious was her desire to suck on that rock-hard member that she took it too far into her mouth; the end struck the back of her throat and she gagged. She coughed with his cock still in her mouth and her spit ran down the length.

This only increased Richard's pleasure in dominating the young woman between his legs and he clasped a hand round the back of her head and pulled, impaling her cute face onto his member. Her innocent eyes widened as her throat was violated and her throat convulsed, trying to reject the foreign body. She gagged deeply and the gurgling sound tightened his balls beneath her chin. She automatically placed her hands on his thighs and pushed, trying to escape. Just as she was about to throw up, he released her and she jerked back automatically, coughing spit onto his trousers. She gulped a deep breath, like someone saved from drowning, and realised how much she actually enjoyed her face being violated by his cock. Spitting the saliva that had pooled into her mouth over his cock, she knelt forward once more to suck.