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The slanting beams of moonlight shining through the window are all Lynette’s sharp eyes need to read the words inked on the pages of her book. Her siblings have long since gone to sleep, but she is far too invested in the story to stop now.
The book has been popular with the young ladies of the court recently. They blush and giggle when they talk about it, cover their mouths with their hands so it’s hard for Lynette to read their lips.
Her curiosity had been piqued.
When she got her hands on a copy today, the bookseller had tutted, “Do your parents know you read these kinds of books?”
Lynette had opted for her usual, “Energy-saving mode activated. No response can be given.”
She had started reading this evening after dinner, and she quickly became hooked. It’s not particularly well written, but Lynette is compelled to learn the fate of the young heroine who has snared the attention of a handsome yet cold and unforgiving duke. Even though the duke is aloof and sharp-tongued, he makes the heroine’s heart flutter and her body “ache with want.” Lynette does not fully understand, but it stirs her interest all the same.
Lynette had been about to stop for the night when a group of bandits captured the heroine to ransom her for the duke’s wealth. When the young woman struggled and fought, they ripped her clothes and touched her breasts. In response, she had “mewled,” and “wetness pooled between her legs.”
Curious, Lynette had slipped a hand into her nightgown and fondled her chest. When she pinched her nipples, there was indeed a strange twinge between her legs, but it didn’t make her mewl or make noise of any kind.
The duke had rushed in and saved the heroine, much like Father had rescued Lynette from that noble’s clutches. Lynette can certainly understand the young woman’s relief and her gratitude towards her savior.
Now, the heroine has snuck into the duke’s room at night to thank him, and Lynette cannot help but picture the duke like Father—stern and austere as he reprimands the heroine for her boldness. The duke pins the heroine to his bedsheets and warns that he’ll “have his way” with her if she does not leave immediately. Unafraid, she tells him that her body “belongs to him” and he can do as he wishes. She undoes the fastenings on her nightgown and leaves her body bare for his scrutiny.
Lynette squirms. The unfamiliar tickle between her legs is back.
The duke kisses the heroine’s neck and nips at her jaw. He licks her nipples, sucks one into his mouth. She keens.
Lynette’s breath grows short. She cups one breast, tries to bring it to her mouth, but even if she strains, she cannot reach it with her tongue. What would Father’s tongue feel like lapping at her chest?
She echoes the duke’s ministrations as his fingers ease down between the heroine’s legs and explore the “wetness of her aroused womanhood.”
Lynette gasps as she finds her own body dripping with viscous fluid beneath her panties. She rubs the wetness between her fingers, and it feels weird and sticky.
Oh, her body feels hot and strange.
Cautiously, she traces around the slick flesh of her womanhood, explores the dips and folds. When her fingers brush over a tiny nub, her hips jump, and she gasps.
Immediately, she whips her hand away. That…that wasn’t normal, was it? Is something wrong with her?
She jumps out of bed and slips out into the hall.
Light glows at the crack under Father’s door, and Lynette hurries over, raps against the wooden surface.
The door swings open, and Arlecchino stands there in her nightclothes—a pair of loose pants and a shirt secured with only one button beneath her sternum. The shirt flutters, bares her stomach and the valley between her breasts.
Lynette swallows. If she sucked on Father’s chest and lapped at her nipples, would Arlecchino mewl and keen? What would that sound like in Father’s low voice?
“Why are you awake at this hour?” Arlecchino asks. “Is something troubling you?”
Lynette presses her thighs together. “Father, I’m…I think something’s wrong with me.” She gulps. “My body feels…tingly and I’m…I’m wet. Down here.” She puts a hand to her groin, and her loose gown slips between her legs. She shivers as her panties rub against her sensitive spot.
“Ah,” Arlecchino says. “You are at that age, aren’t you?” She pets one of Lynette’s ears then cups her cheek. “Do not fret, child. It’s perfectly natural.”
“It is?”
Father nods. She ushers Lynette into her room. “Come. I’ll explain everything.”
As she follows Arlecchino to the bed, Lynette cannot help but think of the duke. Will Father pin her down and have her way with her?
Arlecchino sits on the bed and pats the space between her spread legs.
Lynette settles between Father’s thighs with her back pillowed against Father’s warm chest.
“That’s it,” Arlecchino says. “Relax, child.” Her hands rub along Lynette’s legs and hike her nightgown up to her waist. “Your body simply wants attention.”
“Attention?”
“Mm.” Father massages Lynette’s thighs, and her long nails prick at Lynette’s skin. “Your body craves touch. Right here.” Father circles a finger over Lynette’s panties. “Oh, you are wet. What were you thinking about that got you like this, hm?”
“I…I was reading,” Lynette says. “There was a man, but I…I thought of you, father.”
“Oh, how precious,” Arlecchino says. She tugs Lynette’s panties aside and rubs around the little nub, smears Lynette’s fluids over it.
“Ah! Father!” Lynette’s hips jerk. “It feels…weird.”
“It’s alright,” she assures her. “Just focus on the feeling. It gets better.”
Father works her other hand beneath Lynette’s nightgown and gropes her chest. She pinches a nipple between her fingers, tugs and twists.
Each touch sends a twinge of something down to Lynette’s core, and she wriggles in Father’s hold. “Father. Father.”
Arlecchino’s fingers move faster between Lynette’s legs. They flick against her sensitive nub over and over, and a hot pressure builds in her belly. It feels strangely familiar, and she panics.
“Father, stop, I’m going to pee. I’m…ahhhh—” Her cry rises until it cuts off in a silent gasp of pure pleasure. Her body shudders. Her legs quake.
“That’s it, child,” Arlecchino says. “Don’t fight it.”
Lynette grabs Arlecchino’s legs, digs her fingers in for something to hold onto as Arlecchino continues to tease her. The searing jolts of pleasure build and build until she hits another higher plateau.
“Excellent,” Father says. Her fingers swirl faster. “Again.”
Lynette spasms uncontrollably. Her vision blurs, and her ears fill with the rush of blood. She can hear nothing else but a high-pitched whine like the static of a broken machine.
Father’s hands retreat, but it takes nearly a full minute for Lynette’s breath to slow and her bodily functions to reboot.
“Is that better?” Father asks.
“I…” Lynette wets her lips. She swallows. “I feel so…heavy.”
Arlecchino chuckles. She pets Lynette between the ears. “You did very well for your first time, child. If you ever feel the need again, you can always come to me. There are so many other things I can show you.”