From the two pieces that I wrote (“Women’s Lib” and “A Knight’s Desire”), let’s jump ahead about six hundred and thirty years, to the epoch of the Victorian era. It is now 1845 A.D. and the woman pictured is Lady Elizabeth Windermere. She has just received a love letter rhapsodizing about her beauty. It is from Lord William Chesterfield. He thinks that she is at the epoch of her beguiling beauty at twenty seven years of age. He thinks that he is at the epoch of his financial wealth and power at forty five years of age. He thinks that they make the perfect couple, and expresses this at length in his handwritten note. Lady Windermere (and her well positioned parents) think it will be a good match, so a well-known portrait artist of the time (no longer) was summoned to document this moment, the first milestone of the couple’s time together.
But in her private-most thoughts, Lady Elizabeth is worried about becoming betrothed to Lord Chesterfield. She is quite free-thinking for a woman of this time. Lord William is well known as a womanizer, a philanderer, a frequenter of the whore houses down on Bleecker Street. So it is a charged atmosphere when the Lord calls upon the Lady that evening. He is seen into the sitting room of the Windermere estate, with the elder Windermere’s in the library next door.
“Did you receive my missive earlier today?”
“I did, sir, and it made me blush!” Elizabeth answers.
“I see no reason why, I merely stated plain truth.”
“I’m glad that you feel that way, but…”
“But I hear rumors, William, rumors that make me hesitant…”
Chesterfield is not accustomed to unforeseens and not getting his way. “What rumors? From what source?” he asks pointedly.
“Please don’t take offense! I bring this up because I care so much about you! The rumors are from sources too numerous to name. You have a widespread reputation as a rake, sir.”
“I don’t know what to say…!”
“I find it interesting that you don’t deny it, however… There was talk that a maid in your father’s employ had to leave the city, people said it was because she was pregnant by you.”
Chesterfield again did not deny the charge, just pursed his lips silently, as if lost in thought.
“To my way of thinking, a man sowing his wild oats is not a matter to be condemned, as long as that man has the impulse sated by the time he settles down into marriage.” Chesterfield looked up at the Lady with new-found admiration. “As a matter of fact, it puts my mind at ease because I want a family, and it proves that you are virile… One hopes that you might also have learned to be a generous and considerate lover to a sexually aware woman…”
Such a statement was beyond rare at this time, it was unheard of. It rang a responsive chord in the Lord, whose parents wondered if he’d ever settle down, and were pressuring him to do so. He took the satin-encased woman in his arms and kissed her passionately. When their lips parted, she voiced her question.
“Have you sown your last wild oat, sir?”
“You have my word as a gentleman,” he replied.
Elizabeth was astute enough to realize that if he didn’t see himself as a gentleman, he’d just pledged nothing. So she pressed the matter further.
“I can then trust that you won’t be visiting Bleecker Street ever again?”
William did not answer right away. “…I hesitate, madam, because we do not know how we will work… as a couple… in that way…”
“That is a good point, I’ve thought about it myself. There is no way to discover if our bodies mesh together well without committing to do the deed, and my reputation cannot withstand that… but we can talk about, see if our minds mesh…” As she said this scandalous statement, Elizabeth reached down and caressed William’s rampant manhood through his trousers. She could tell that no lady had ever done such a thing to him before; they both thought he might erupt in orgasm at the sheer delight. He pulled Elizabeth to him, pushing his face into her decolletage and grasping her backside firmly underneath her bustle. “Through the clothes, sir, not beneath them, or we shan’t be able to resist the impulse… Now, what do you like to do with those ladies-of-the-evening on Bleecker?”
“Who says I’ve ever visited Bleecker Street?”
“Sir, when you first expressed an interest in me back at the cotillion, I had you investigated. There is a very reliable retired policeman from Scotland Yard that I paid to follow you. You’ve visited there approximately once a week for over a year, so don’t deny it or we are through…”
“Alright, I visit there! But not to have intercourse! I’d be afraid of contracting a disease beyond cure.”
“You visit whores, but you don’t fuck them? I don’t think I can believe that!”
“It’s true, I swear! I… I… I whip them…” Elizabeth felt William’s erection leap at the mention of the W word. She continued to caress him as she pursued the matter.
“…You… whip… them? You like to bare their bottoms, and have them bend over before you, until all their feminine charms are fully exposed, and you whip them…?”
“Yes!” he confessed, and his vocal register told the Lady that he was close to climaxing in his pants, so she backed-off the physical stroking a bit.
Loving her power she held over him, she whispered in his ear conspiratorially, “And what do you use…? Your hand… a riding crop… a long dressage whip?”
Right on the precipice of orgasm, as if he was back on Bleecker and confronted with a glorious big bottom of a nasty whore, William enunciated carefully, “Usually with a bundle of birch twigs that the madam of the house provides…”
“How considerate of the madam! But you don’t place your manhood inside the whipped girl? No matter how excited it makes you…?” she whispered, showing no offense in the topic of discussion.
“I… usually… take it out and… place it along the crack of her well-whipped backside… and spend my seed across her bare back…”
“Oh, my!” Elizabeth uttered. She started to stroke him more urgently as she played with him like a fish on a hook. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve long dreamed of a man baring my deserving backside… telling me to bend over obscenely… giving my round rump a thorough thrashing…? What would you…”
William interrupted her interrogation by climaxing with a series of violent spasms. He jerked just like a trophy trout on the line. Elizabeth had landed her prey. His breeches were soddened, it smelled seductively of a heady musk that Elizabeth loved.
“Is it true?” he demanded, as soon as he was able to speak.
“What? That I fantasize about being beaten soundly with a birch, that the thought alone gets me excited…?” Chesterfield nodded. Lady Windermere nodded, “Ever since I was a little girl! I always thought that I was a freak of nature, warped mentally, destined never to be satisfied. So, when I heard rumors about you, sir…”
“It is a match made in heaven!” he proclaimed. Even soiled and smelling of sex, he dropped to a knee and seized her right hand. “Will you marry me, Lady Elizabeth?”
She leaned down and kissed him, “I cannot say yes only because I cannot then take you into the next room to announce our plans to my parents with you in your present state, sir. May I suggest that get a respectable diamond ring, come back tomorrow, and ask again as if it were the first time… Sound like a workable plan?”
He smiled. She smiled. She helped him rise to his feet, but did not embrace him close due to that spreading wet stain. Instead she turned around and said seductively over her shoulder, “You make my facial cheeks blush, sir. I cannot wait until you make my lower set of cheeks blush even more hotly! Until tomorrow…”
(The above painting is entitled The Love Letter. It, along with the baudy etching by M. del Giglio to the left, inspired this historical fiction piece. I hope that my writing whips you into a veritable frenzy of sexual excitement; enjoy!)