Alice Bluegown
11-23-2011, 10:34 AM
I very rarely delete sex scenes, but 'Leviathan' (another story from 'The Serpents Wake') underwent massive reconstruction via four rewrites, and a lot of material had to go. I'm putting these bits up here in the hope you folks get a kick out of them. Our protagonists are naive (and still virgin) young bride Audra Pendleton, and Miss Delia-Jayne Forncett, a campaigner for women's rights whose interest in females is not entirely altruistic. The setting is late-Victorian era, and all the action takes place aboard an ocean liner (not that either is particularly relevant to what follows). Hope you enjoy! - Alice
LEVIATHAN (out-takes)
We join Audra and Delia-Jayne mid-flagrante (if there is such a term) – this is the second occasion Audra has been successfully seduced by the other woman, and her moral compass has gone considerably out of whack.
“I would be very grateful,” said Delia-Jayne, the faintest hint of tremor in her brisk tone, “If you could hold yourself open this time...”
Audra shivered violently at the implication – she had never, ever touched herself down there, and knew full well the dreadful consequences. But Delia-Jayne’s look held her, hypnotised, and her own need pealed through her being like a siren song, irresistibly impelling. Averting her eyes she reached down, her fingertips falling instinctively to the spot with a sharp, electric surge of sensation. With delicate revulsion Audra unfurled herself, exposing her most fundamental stigma – she wondered how disgusting, how repellent the spectacle must be. But when she dared steal a glance at Delia-Jayne, the woman was regarding her disgrace with a cool, intrigued expression, somewhere between a nurse and a connoisseur. Then, before Audra’s disbelieving gaze, Delia-Jayne dipped her head between her open thighs, splashing them with a soft rain of silken shining threads, and put her tongue to the stretched pink petals of Audra’s inner labia. And once again, Audra became pleasure incarnate.
“Oh!” she cried, closing her eyes as if against a sudden burst of blinding light – but ‘twas only the blood that rose in her face, that thundered from her gushing heart to every extremity of her body: she could sense each nerve, each sinew pulsing with untrammelled joy; could feel every inch of her skin alive with sensation; each downy hair lifting and vibrating in an ululation of joy. The woman’s tongue, wet and massive within her secret cove, fluttering against the aching bud of her clitoris: she could hear its soft harbour lapping, so debased, so raw, so rapaciously intimate; so undeniably, unsurpassed beautiful.
It was even more powerful than before: pleasure so intense it could not long be borne. Audra had surrendered control of her body, now consumed by feverish tremors: blood roared in her ears, her flesh pulsing in sympathy; she howled, shameless as an infant, her body arched and abandoned; her essence, her innocence venting into another woman’s eager mouth – Hell’s mouth, a female water demon.
And afterward, the perfect bliss: panting, misted with sweat. Every muscle spent and quivering; every breath deep and cleansing as a blast of mountain air – it was like being stranded on the shores of Paradise. All cares evaporated, Audra lay like a sleepy child, content to do nothing, to think of nothing, to be nothing. Delia-Jayne slithered up to lie beside her – they were both more or less still fully clothed, which struck Audra as incongruous and somewhat amusing. Then Delia-Jayne kissed her, and Audra knew a moment’s horror as she understood the stickiness of the woman’s lips upon her own; the rich, earthen tang upon them. She shuddered involuntarily, but was nowhere near as repelled as she knew she ought to be.
“Was that nice?” Miss Forncett inquired, and she could as well been referencing a slice of Madeira, or a pleasant stroll. Audra nodded, her smile a little rueful.
“I... don’t know how to thank you.”
“Maybe you’ll think of a way...” Delia-Jayne’s tone was coquettish, suggestive, even hopeful – Audra blanched, unable to stop herself recoiling slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, wondering why she was apologising for being morally upstanding. “This is all so new to me...”
“Indeed,” Delia-Jayne sighed. “Well then, perhaps in the future: for now, let us simply lie here awhile – like two civilised friends, seeing out the heat of the day in comfort.”
It occurred to Audra that they had decisively circumvented the ‘friends’ stage...
*
Pillow talk turns to the thorny question of Audra’s husband – she believes he could never find her desirable after what she has done...
“You’re such a naive young thing,” Delia-Jayne smiled. “You have done nothing, save allow yourself to enjoy another woman’s attentions. Why, there’s many a man would find that almost impossibly alluring: they like their sweet innocence to come spiced with a twist of lemon.”
“Delwyn wouldn’t. I couldn’t even get him to – well, you know...”
“I’m afraid I don’t, beyond the basic theory – as I said, men were never my forte. Perhaps as a couple you were just not meant to be...”
“But I loved him,” Audra protested. “I still do. And I thought he loved me. This morning I just wanted him to take me; to fill me with his... affair. And now I fear I shall never know what it feels like...”
Miss Forncett snorted, shaking her head. “So, so naive. If that is all you miss from marriage, then let me provide a solution. I may not have indulged with any of my wayward girls, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t let them teach me a thing or two. I wonder if you’d be so kind as to roll onto your front, and draw your knees up under you...”
Audra complied, shocked at her own alacrity: the eager, fierce excitement suddenly sluicing through her body, a wellspring of dark delight. The position she was coaxed into was a tad uncomfortable, and utterly ridiculous: Delia-Jayne compounded this by thrusting Audra’s crumpled skirts once more up about her waist, exposing her hindquarters and nether regions to anyone who might deign to enter the suite. Resting her head on her crossed arms, Audra flashed back to the rare occurrences when she had been spanked at school: the sensations of vulnerability, of nervously taut anticipation, were similar. But no punishment could be as delicious as this: she was aware of Delia-Jayne kneeling into position behind her, then the soft electric lap of a tongue slowly gliding the length of her brimming, satin slit. The shimmers of sensation, familiar now but still overpowering, spiralled through her being, making her shiver and moan softly. A series of long, sustained licks lulled into a trembling, ecstatic stupor; her excitement bubbling gently like a cauldron over flame.
Then, abruptly, she became aware of a new presence at her vulva – a single, extended finger, probing gently but stubbornly between her inflamed labia. She drew breath sharply, gasping in mingled fear and delight as her flesh seemed to shape itself around this tentative intrusion, curling and retracting. The initial thrust was slow but dogged, Delia-Jayne’s control absolute: Audra could feel every fraction of an inch of the digit being eased into her body; could precisely gauge the soft surrender of her maidenhood. Seeming disproportionately massive, the finger slid as deep as it was able, then after a lingering pause began to withdraw, the motion epic as a linger slipping free of its dock. With this reversal came a whole new set of sensations, Audra’s inner flesh rippling and pulsing about the retreating interpolation: she imagined herself as a set of concentric circles, like tree rings, all quivering in upon themselves; sending molten shocks through her pelvic region, making her whole body flex in unison, and drawing forth sobs of implacable delight.
Time after time the finger violated her, and each time her body became more accommodating, its inner velvet ever more wet and pliant. With ferocious discipline Delia-Jayne imperceptibly accelerated the pace and depth of her thrusts, building to a steady piston rhythm that had Audra’s body rocking in sympathy. Her eyes were closed, her head down; the sweat of unintended exertion beaded on her face and slicked about her neck: she emitted a series of deep, slightly barking cries – “oh, oh, oh” – almost like a steam engine’s exhaust. This, she thought idly, abstractedly, was sex – this was what all those older women, her mother and her aunts and her tutors, had been hinting at darkly all these years. This is what men did to women: and absurdly, miraculously, there was no man in sight.
And then, Delia-Jayne stopped. Audra gave a long, juddering exhalation of passion and frustration: she was just beginning to glimpse where all this cut and thrust might lead. But by now she should have known her partner was not one to abandon a project, once begun: all too soon she felt a fresh pressure at the silken gates of her secret citadel; wider, deeper, stronger. Two yoked fingers were sliding slowly, powerfully, inexorably into her – Audra groaned with a piquant synthesis of renewed pleasure and muted fear: she was being stretched, gently yet mercilessly; her body contorting both within and without to reconcile this novel, grotesque yet welcome assault. With every sustained, successive thrust she seemed to open a little more, becoming by degrees more saturated, more tractable – it disgusted and delighted her in equal measure, the dichotomy expressed in panted cries of slightly shamefaced abandon. Now she was, perhaps for the first time, openly participating in her degradation: pushing back against each inward surge; gripping the intruding digits with an inner, pulsing musculature she not ‘til now known she possessed, as they slickly, tauntingly withdrew. With the heat reignited, the cauldron began to bubble anew – release was coming, its arrival an almost fatal inevitability: she longed for it, yet sought to deny it as long as possible.
But even then, Delia-Jayne was prepared to introduce still more, unheard-of pleasures – a teacher of limitless generosity indulging a most eager pupil. There was a flutter of tongue, first shockingly chilly then beguilingly warm, at a spot Audra could scarce believe: a tender tickling at the down-fringed eyelet of her anus. Audra’s head flicked up; she was too properly, fundamentally shocked to emit more than a girlish squeal as Miss Forncett’s tongue slowly encroached this second, despised orifice in glutinous counterpoint to her fingers’ prolonged invasion. Sensation fizzed through Audra, flashing like light up her spine, flowing around her upper body, filling her breasts, flaming down through the pit of her stomach into her loins; a looping, rocking rollercoaster of visceral delectation. Shaking uncontrollably, she had barely registered the revolting reality of what Delia-Jayne was doing to her, when a new revelation obliterated it as thoroughly as waves over sand – it was going to make her climax.
“Oh God!” she cried, and in her mind’s eye her body had become a pulsing, twisting tunnel of over-stimulated flesh, a scarlet explosion spewing molten spray: she was a volcano, a geyser, a torrent, anything that gushed and flowed; she was rain and fire and steam.
“Oh Go, oh God, oh God...” Over and over, a blasphemous, lustful liturgy: obscenity spawned by obscene emotions; worship begat by a golden glimpse of the Divine. Audra felt as though she had been somehow battered into the bed, but it was merely her own desperate, almost drowning breath; merely the receding wash of her terminal pleasures; the shattering return to reality at the end of her body’s aching, rocket release. With tender reluctance the fingers slipped free of her, an oozing retreat: she lay quivering, panting, hopelessly enervated; glutinous tears saturated her eyes.
“There,” said Delia-Jayne, just the faintest timbre of triumph in her voice, “Virginity safely disposed of; consummation achieved. I do believe we are now legally married...”
LEVIATHAN (out-takes)
We join Audra and Delia-Jayne mid-flagrante (if there is such a term) – this is the second occasion Audra has been successfully seduced by the other woman, and her moral compass has gone considerably out of whack.
“I would be very grateful,” said Delia-Jayne, the faintest hint of tremor in her brisk tone, “If you could hold yourself open this time...”
Audra shivered violently at the implication – she had never, ever touched herself down there, and knew full well the dreadful consequences. But Delia-Jayne’s look held her, hypnotised, and her own need pealed through her being like a siren song, irresistibly impelling. Averting her eyes she reached down, her fingertips falling instinctively to the spot with a sharp, electric surge of sensation. With delicate revulsion Audra unfurled herself, exposing her most fundamental stigma – she wondered how disgusting, how repellent the spectacle must be. But when she dared steal a glance at Delia-Jayne, the woman was regarding her disgrace with a cool, intrigued expression, somewhere between a nurse and a connoisseur. Then, before Audra’s disbelieving gaze, Delia-Jayne dipped her head between her open thighs, splashing them with a soft rain of silken shining threads, and put her tongue to the stretched pink petals of Audra’s inner labia. And once again, Audra became pleasure incarnate.
“Oh!” she cried, closing her eyes as if against a sudden burst of blinding light – but ‘twas only the blood that rose in her face, that thundered from her gushing heart to every extremity of her body: she could sense each nerve, each sinew pulsing with untrammelled joy; could feel every inch of her skin alive with sensation; each downy hair lifting and vibrating in an ululation of joy. The woman’s tongue, wet and massive within her secret cove, fluttering against the aching bud of her clitoris: she could hear its soft harbour lapping, so debased, so raw, so rapaciously intimate; so undeniably, unsurpassed beautiful.
It was even more powerful than before: pleasure so intense it could not long be borne. Audra had surrendered control of her body, now consumed by feverish tremors: blood roared in her ears, her flesh pulsing in sympathy; she howled, shameless as an infant, her body arched and abandoned; her essence, her innocence venting into another woman’s eager mouth – Hell’s mouth, a female water demon.
And afterward, the perfect bliss: panting, misted with sweat. Every muscle spent and quivering; every breath deep and cleansing as a blast of mountain air – it was like being stranded on the shores of Paradise. All cares evaporated, Audra lay like a sleepy child, content to do nothing, to think of nothing, to be nothing. Delia-Jayne slithered up to lie beside her – they were both more or less still fully clothed, which struck Audra as incongruous and somewhat amusing. Then Delia-Jayne kissed her, and Audra knew a moment’s horror as she understood the stickiness of the woman’s lips upon her own; the rich, earthen tang upon them. She shuddered involuntarily, but was nowhere near as repelled as she knew she ought to be.
“Was that nice?” Miss Forncett inquired, and she could as well been referencing a slice of Madeira, or a pleasant stroll. Audra nodded, her smile a little rueful.
“I... don’t know how to thank you.”
“Maybe you’ll think of a way...” Delia-Jayne’s tone was coquettish, suggestive, even hopeful – Audra blanched, unable to stop herself recoiling slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted, wondering why she was apologising for being morally upstanding. “This is all so new to me...”
“Indeed,” Delia-Jayne sighed. “Well then, perhaps in the future: for now, let us simply lie here awhile – like two civilised friends, seeing out the heat of the day in comfort.”
It occurred to Audra that they had decisively circumvented the ‘friends’ stage...
*
Pillow talk turns to the thorny question of Audra’s husband – she believes he could never find her desirable after what she has done...
“You’re such a naive young thing,” Delia-Jayne smiled. “You have done nothing, save allow yourself to enjoy another woman’s attentions. Why, there’s many a man would find that almost impossibly alluring: they like their sweet innocence to come spiced with a twist of lemon.”
“Delwyn wouldn’t. I couldn’t even get him to – well, you know...”
“I’m afraid I don’t, beyond the basic theory – as I said, men were never my forte. Perhaps as a couple you were just not meant to be...”
“But I loved him,” Audra protested. “I still do. And I thought he loved me. This morning I just wanted him to take me; to fill me with his... affair. And now I fear I shall never know what it feels like...”
Miss Forncett snorted, shaking her head. “So, so naive. If that is all you miss from marriage, then let me provide a solution. I may not have indulged with any of my wayward girls, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t let them teach me a thing or two. I wonder if you’d be so kind as to roll onto your front, and draw your knees up under you...”
Audra complied, shocked at her own alacrity: the eager, fierce excitement suddenly sluicing through her body, a wellspring of dark delight. The position she was coaxed into was a tad uncomfortable, and utterly ridiculous: Delia-Jayne compounded this by thrusting Audra’s crumpled skirts once more up about her waist, exposing her hindquarters and nether regions to anyone who might deign to enter the suite. Resting her head on her crossed arms, Audra flashed back to the rare occurrences when she had been spanked at school: the sensations of vulnerability, of nervously taut anticipation, were similar. But no punishment could be as delicious as this: she was aware of Delia-Jayne kneeling into position behind her, then the soft electric lap of a tongue slowly gliding the length of her brimming, satin slit. The shimmers of sensation, familiar now but still overpowering, spiralled through her being, making her shiver and moan softly. A series of long, sustained licks lulled into a trembling, ecstatic stupor; her excitement bubbling gently like a cauldron over flame.
Then, abruptly, she became aware of a new presence at her vulva – a single, extended finger, probing gently but stubbornly between her inflamed labia. She drew breath sharply, gasping in mingled fear and delight as her flesh seemed to shape itself around this tentative intrusion, curling and retracting. The initial thrust was slow but dogged, Delia-Jayne’s control absolute: Audra could feel every fraction of an inch of the digit being eased into her body; could precisely gauge the soft surrender of her maidenhood. Seeming disproportionately massive, the finger slid as deep as it was able, then after a lingering pause began to withdraw, the motion epic as a linger slipping free of its dock. With this reversal came a whole new set of sensations, Audra’s inner flesh rippling and pulsing about the retreating interpolation: she imagined herself as a set of concentric circles, like tree rings, all quivering in upon themselves; sending molten shocks through her pelvic region, making her whole body flex in unison, and drawing forth sobs of implacable delight.
Time after time the finger violated her, and each time her body became more accommodating, its inner velvet ever more wet and pliant. With ferocious discipline Delia-Jayne imperceptibly accelerated the pace and depth of her thrusts, building to a steady piston rhythm that had Audra’s body rocking in sympathy. Her eyes were closed, her head down; the sweat of unintended exertion beaded on her face and slicked about her neck: she emitted a series of deep, slightly barking cries – “oh, oh, oh” – almost like a steam engine’s exhaust. This, she thought idly, abstractedly, was sex – this was what all those older women, her mother and her aunts and her tutors, had been hinting at darkly all these years. This is what men did to women: and absurdly, miraculously, there was no man in sight.
And then, Delia-Jayne stopped. Audra gave a long, juddering exhalation of passion and frustration: she was just beginning to glimpse where all this cut and thrust might lead. But by now she should have known her partner was not one to abandon a project, once begun: all too soon she felt a fresh pressure at the silken gates of her secret citadel; wider, deeper, stronger. Two yoked fingers were sliding slowly, powerfully, inexorably into her – Audra groaned with a piquant synthesis of renewed pleasure and muted fear: she was being stretched, gently yet mercilessly; her body contorting both within and without to reconcile this novel, grotesque yet welcome assault. With every sustained, successive thrust she seemed to open a little more, becoming by degrees more saturated, more tractable – it disgusted and delighted her in equal measure, the dichotomy expressed in panted cries of slightly shamefaced abandon. Now she was, perhaps for the first time, openly participating in her degradation: pushing back against each inward surge; gripping the intruding digits with an inner, pulsing musculature she not ‘til now known she possessed, as they slickly, tauntingly withdrew. With the heat reignited, the cauldron began to bubble anew – release was coming, its arrival an almost fatal inevitability: she longed for it, yet sought to deny it as long as possible.
But even then, Delia-Jayne was prepared to introduce still more, unheard-of pleasures – a teacher of limitless generosity indulging a most eager pupil. There was a flutter of tongue, first shockingly chilly then beguilingly warm, at a spot Audra could scarce believe: a tender tickling at the down-fringed eyelet of her anus. Audra’s head flicked up; she was too properly, fundamentally shocked to emit more than a girlish squeal as Miss Forncett’s tongue slowly encroached this second, despised orifice in glutinous counterpoint to her fingers’ prolonged invasion. Sensation fizzed through Audra, flashing like light up her spine, flowing around her upper body, filling her breasts, flaming down through the pit of her stomach into her loins; a looping, rocking rollercoaster of visceral delectation. Shaking uncontrollably, she had barely registered the revolting reality of what Delia-Jayne was doing to her, when a new revelation obliterated it as thoroughly as waves over sand – it was going to make her climax.
“Oh God!” she cried, and in her mind’s eye her body had become a pulsing, twisting tunnel of over-stimulated flesh, a scarlet explosion spewing molten spray: she was a volcano, a geyser, a torrent, anything that gushed and flowed; she was rain and fire and steam.
“Oh Go, oh God, oh God...” Over and over, a blasphemous, lustful liturgy: obscenity spawned by obscene emotions; worship begat by a golden glimpse of the Divine. Audra felt as though she had been somehow battered into the bed, but it was merely her own desperate, almost drowning breath; merely the receding wash of her terminal pleasures; the shattering return to reality at the end of her body’s aching, rocket release. With tender reluctance the fingers slipped free of her, an oozing retreat: she lay quivering, panting, hopelessly enervated; glutinous tears saturated her eyes.
“There,” said Delia-Jayne, just the faintest timbre of triumph in her voice, “Virginity safely disposed of; consummation achieved. I do believe we are now legally married...”