The Vicar's girl

Chapter One

The house that stood on the edge of the moorland had a look of total remoteness, as if all within were quiet and ever would be so. White palings, newly-painted, surrounded the frontage and-reaching halfway around the back of the stone-built residence-gave way on either side to a barred gate which led into a paddock where a horse was grazing.

Reining in his own quiet nag, the Reverend Percival Jubstone wondered which of the two new inhabitants of Edgemoore, as it was aptly called, were at home. It would almost surely be Miss Vanessa Markham, he told himself, since her brother would be at his teaching post at this hour. Village gossip, which so often reached his ears via his housekeeper, told him that she was an attractive woman. He hoped it would be so and, having tethered his horse, took the path to the front door and drew upon the bell, hearing it jangle within.

Scarcely a moment passed before the door was opened by a young maid, cap askew and with a cloth in her hand.

'Your Mistress is in?' enquired Percival politely, taking note all at one and the same time of the girl's age, which he judged to be about seventeen, the slimness of her figure and the promising gourds which her black dress revealed.

'Oh, sir, your Reverendship!' Mary uttered, quite taken aback by the appearance of one who seemed to her such a lordly person.

'It is all right, Mary', came a voice from an adjoining room, and therewith appeared Vanessa herself-a comely young woman indeed of perhaps twenty-eight or so, as the Vicar immediately perceived.

'Yes, ma'am', Mary said almost thankfully, for it was her first day at the house and no one had told her how to receive visitors, this in great part being because Miss Markham had expected none as yet. Edging away while trying to give all appearance of not really doing so, Mary succeeded in giving way to both and scuttled thankfully back into the kitchen.

'I thought to call-to make myself known. Forgive me if I have arrived at an inopportune moment', boomed the reverend gentleman.

'Not at all, not at all-pray come in. I am sorry about Mary's ineptitude. She is young and…"

'Untrained?' he interrupted her as they entered the small drawing room that was pleasingly uncluttered. 'Forgive me for having broken across what you may have been about to say, Miss Markham. It is a matter to which I have given much thought, however'.

'Yes?' asked Vanessa in a tone of voice that to some more sensitive souls would have appeared strained. Indicating a comfortable armchair for her visitor, she took up her seat on an equally-well-padded sofa which the Vicar regarded with a professional eye-professional, that is to say, in relation to his private interests, for the arms of the piece of furniture were nobly curved and were winged outwards at an angle which was immediately cogent to his thoughts of how one such as Mary could be put over one of the arms with her bottom well up.

'The-er-yes, the training of young girls. I was about to say, with your permission, that it is most desirable, do you not think?'

'I have not given much thought to the matter, Vicar', responded Vanessa, whose cheeks flushed slightly while- as though to distract herself-she summoned Mary by means of a small silver handbell and ordered tea.

'I have made it already, ma'am, and you wish', said the girl, showing much pride at having anticipated the request.

'You see', declared Vanessa when after but a few moments they were served, 'she is a good girl'.

'In all respects?' asked the cleric with something of a twinkle in his eye, for the more he looked upon his hostess the more he liked. Vanessa might have been described by some as a strapping girl (no pun thereby being intended),

for she was but an inch or so shorter than the Vicar. Unclothed, however, her full beauty was revealed: two noble breasts as white as mounds of snow, a subtly-curved belly beneath which a thick triangular thatch gathered around her slit, thighs of columnar splendour, vaselike hips, and a bottom that would have stirred the penis of a statue.

'You touch upon her modesty, I believe-or mine', she murmured, casting her eyes down to the thin bone china of her cup.

'Modesty may be used as a cloak for devilment-I have often known it so-and vice versa'.

'Would you then constantly upbraid one such as Mary?' Vanessa asked defensively. A warm trickle ran through her belly at that moment, which was caused not so much by the tea as by the magnetic look that this tallish man in his middle years-slightly craggy of aspect, but well-dressed withal-cast upon her.

'May I sit with you? We can converse more quietly, my dear?'

Without waiting upon permission, Percival did so and found a warm hip agreeably close to his own. His eyes took in the fetching dimple on her cheek, the sweet corners of her mouth. How many times, he wondered, had those lustrous lips been kissed? How many times, if ever, had a hand-whether male or female-found its way into her corsage to fondle those magnificent orbs which appeared to strain so impatiently through her dress?

'Upbraid?' he asked in a gentle tone. 'No, Miss Markham, such does not have a sufficient strain of strictness that the female needs. There are those I know who use the birch and cause the unveiled bottom to twist and burn. Cries of protest, of alarm, may be heard which in a quiet household are unseemly and may disturb those who had best know least about it. For myself, I employ mainly the tawse. Do you know of such?'

Blushing deeply at his choice of words, Vanessa clutched rather desperately at her cup and gazed straight before her so that naught but her attractive profile was presented to his view. No one had ever spoken to her thus before and she knew not how to reply, though having rather mumbled something was politely asked what she had said.

'I said no', she gulped.

'Ah, then, I better understand, my dear. The tawse is a Scottish instrument of thick broad leather, alike unto a goodly luggage strap, if you will, but split at the instructive end so as to form two fingers. At the moment of their meeting the offered bottom…'

'Oh, sir, I do not think we should speak of such!' Vanessa gasped.

'Ah-I had no idea that you were uninstructed. Truly I had not. Pray forgive me. Are you well accommodated here? Is the residence roomy enough for you?'

'Indeed yes. May I show you around?' Vanessa asked hastily as if she would rather do anything at that moment than continue such a conversation.

'It would be pleasant, yes, and more than that, for I like to think of my parishioners at night at prayer, Miss Mark-ham, and thus do I envisage them-each and all-in their rooms of retirement, the fires lit in winter and a pleasant glow upon the ceiling. Is that not one of the jolliest and cosiest sights?' he asked, assisting her to rise and thereby brushing his hand down one svelte hip in the process.

'I s… s… suppose, yes', the young woman responded. She had not thought to show him anything as intimate as her bedroom, but there seemed no escape from it. And thus a little tour was conducted-first the dining room, then the morning room and the small conservatory whose blooms the Vicar much admired-and then followed the hesitant moment when Vanessa conducted him up the stairs.

In so doing, she distinctly felt his hand pass behind her and pass lightly over and beneath the noble cheeks of her bottom, the which she was quite unable to believe was happening. Being a well-brought-up young lady, she had experienced little of the like before, and most certainly not with a stranger. Such was her modesty, however, that she could not bring herself to remark upon that libertine straying of his palm which, through her gown, her petticoat, and her drawers, could well feel the warm rotundity of her nether cheeks.

As they passed along the landing, the Vicar stole his encroaching fingers a little further beneath her orbs, this causing Vanessa to gulp audibly, though-as he had well anticipated-no word of protest broke from her lips simply because she knew not how to form such. From previous adventures, the wily cleric was well aware that such would be the case and literally guided her by her bottom into the first of several bedrooms, where, as she whispered almost inaudibly, her brother Reginald slept.

'It is next to your own?' came the enquiry.

'Sir, yes, but I do not think…', began Vanessa, finding words at last, for his insurgent fingers were by then pressing the various materials of her clothes and underclothes up into the plump bulge of her bottom in the most possessive way.

'It is wise to have adjoining rooms, my dear, for should you be indisposed or have need, then you may quietly call upon him in the night-is that not so?'

'B… but my room…', stammered Vanessa, whose facial cheeks were bright red while her nether ones could distinctly feel the commanding impress of his hand in a way that disturbed her much.

'Is not so nice as this? Oh, but I am sure it is much prettier. Have no alarm at showing it to me for I frequently have had need to call upon my lady parishioners when they have cause to languish in bed and am in need of such attentions as I can give them. The door is here? Ah yes! I say, what a delightful room! You have a window-seat, I see. I have a great fancy for such. A double bed, too. Far more convenient than a single one, I always think. May I close the door? You were asking me, I believe, about the usages and effects of the tawse'.

'No-no, I was not', Vanessa attempted to declare with some firmness whereat the Vicar boldly encircled her waist- slim, as he found it-and brought her with rather trembling legs to sit beside him on a decidedly bouncy bed.

'We do not wish to be overheard, do we, Miss Markham? I am very well aware of the feminine interest in the subject, much as some young ladies of your own modesty wish to veil it'.

'Yes, yes, I am very modest', Vanessa uttered gratefully at being able to pick up the word.

'Though not so much so, I trust, as you will disdain a serious discussion on the matter? Do you feel faint, my dear? Lie back a moment', urged the Vicar while a whimper of remonstrance issued from Vanessa's lips as the movement of his arm-guiding her with seeming gentleness and yet withal a demanding strength-caused her back to meet the counterpane and her neatly shod feet to dangle off of the floor.

Her lips parted in total wonderment that such a thing could be happening, Vanessa felt his free hand pass so swiftly and deftly up beneath her skirts that before a cry could escape her his palm had soothed around the slightly rough tops of her stockings and then essayed the rich milky skin above.

'Ah, no!' Vanessa gasped. Her shoulders made to rise but sank down once more. Levering his wrist strongly between her resistant legs, Percival found that which he most sought- to wit, the warm mound of her cunny whose furry prominence mounded against the palrn which he commenced rubbing gently through the cotton of her drawers. 'S… sir, I do not w… want!' she protested, turning her head this way and that while the gentle massaging of the heel of his hand against her clitty caused her to grit her teeth and flush right down to her neck.

'Lie still, Miss Markham, or I may need to demonstrate the use of the tawse on you sooner than I had expected', uttered Percival in such an authoritative tone as for a moment caused Vanessa to return to her even more youthful days when the commands of her Papa had been as those of the Deity. With a total sense of disbelief she felt him slide down as though he had dropped something upon the floor. Hence, believing such to be her moment of escape, she made again to rise and was producing the first flustered motions of so doing when both her uncovered legs were seized and-gripped firmly just above the knees by the Vicar's strong hands-were caused to dangle over his shoulders as he swiftly knelt before her.

'HAAAR!' Vanessa cried, though biting her knuckles as she did so lest Mary should hear.

The crafty cleric had counted much upon that and drove his hungry mouth immediately into the crotch of her drawers, feeling thereunder the rolled lips which impressed themselves through the cotton. Arching her back, her eyes wild, and clenching at the bedcover, Vanessa felt his lapping wetly there-indeed, just like a dog's. Bumping her sturdy, well-curved legs upon his shoulders, she gradually felt not only the crotch of her drawers wetting from his saliva but also the exudations that came from her honeypot.

'MUR-MUR-MUR!' she began to moan, much to the joy of the cleric. The tip of his tongue actually caused the few loose folds of her drawers at their most critical juncture to enter between her rolled lovelips, at the peak of which he could distinctly feel her clitoris erecting like a small but eager bud.-'HOOO-OOOH! NO!' came to his ears, which cry was a further delight to him since he well knew that such was frequently uttered when the very reverse was intended.

Gathering his hands under her bottom, he hastily sought the ties of her drawers and, tugging upon the waistband, brought that garment to descend to Vanessa's knees. His further action was then just as immediate and caught her by surprise as much as it had done other females in the past. Letting her legs slump heavily down, Percival rose and swiftly rolled the dazed young woman upon her face so that he was at last able to view the impressive twin demi-globes of her bottom.

No more lustrous orb had ever met Percival's eyes. The cheeks inrolled with that tight plumpness that produces at their meeting point a faint gingery hue which adds such pleasing contrast to the marbled whiteness of the bulging peach. As such a fruit, so indeed it felt, the cheeks being velvety and firm as he caressed them, parted them and allowed an enquiring finger to run up and down the furrow at whose centre Vanessa haplessly showed her crinkled orifice.

'GOOOOO!' came a wild sob from Vanessa whose hands now clawed forward as if she would drag herself beyond his reach.

That, however, he forestalled by laying one hand firmly in the small of her back and bringing the other with a firm SMACK! on her naked bottom.

'WHAAAAH!' choked she as the stinging impress of his palm and fingers caused a pink hue to stain the otherwise spotless pallor. At the same time, however-as her hips jerked resultantly-Vanessa's awoken clitoris rubbed teas-ingly upon the slightly ribbed surface of the bedcover, causing her to have two utterly opposing sensations, the which merged in the most curious way. At one and the same time her bottom burned and her belly seemed to be melting. Between her legs was a tiny pinpoint of white heat that had as equal an effect upon her as did the impact of that disciplinary palm. Her knuckles tightened and her flushed face was well hid.

All this Percival well expected. Observing the fervent quivering of her nether cheeks, he caressed their hot surfaces suavely and then smacked her again, bringing a 'YEE-EEEK!' from Vanessa that was quieter than her precious utterances. Her hips wriggled wildly and a hissing sound emitted itself from her nostrils.

One more would do her well, the Vicar decided. Her sobbings did not impress him at all, for her legs-having at first kicked rebelliously-now hung limp.

Smack! came his hand again, bouncing as it did off the resilient moon which with that became an even deeper pink.

'Nooo-hooo!' Vanessa squealed but once, and then the molten lava which had been gathering within her melted utterly, causing her well-furred pubis to grind itself wildly under the ridged material beneath her as she spilled her milky substance out in fierce little jets which at the last left her quivering, and indeed as if floating upon a roseate cloud.

'I shall attend upon you again tomorrow, my dear, and at this time', she heard distantly and then felt something thrown upon the bed, though could not bring herself to turn her head and reveal even part of her buried face to him.-'You will place it beneath your pillow and there let it stay until I return, Miss Markham', were his departing words.

Scarcely even conscious of where she was at that moment and feeling all the delightful creamy wetness under her, Vanessa lay utterly still as the door closed. Indeed, upon its doing so she did not then immediately rise but remained in a daze of wonderment exactly as Percival intended her to.

Descending the stairs slowly and magisterially, he found Mary hastening into the hall.

'Oh, sir, are you leaving?'

'I am indeed, my girl, and your Mistress desires not to be disturbed. She is in a state of rest, a state of grace indeed', the Vicar announced to the open-mouthed young maid who from his words somehow envisaged Miss Markham as being dressed in angel's attire and floating about her bedroom.

As the door closed upon their visitor, Mary crept to the foot of the stairs and listened, but she could hear not a sound from above and, after a moment's curiosity, returned to her domestic chores.

As for Vanessa, she curled herself up slowly, drawing her legs on to the bed and biting the corner of one of her pillows. Her bottom burned and her cunny tingled still. There was a lump behind her at her hip and she felt blindly with one hand, finding therewith the curled tawse that he had dropped beside her.