The well-rounded limbs, child-like in their plump proportions; the delicate bosom just ripening into two of the choicest and whitest little hills of soft flesh; the roseate buds which tipped their summits; the blue veins which coursed and meandered here and there and showed through the pearly surface like little rivulets of sanguine fluid only to enhance the more dazzling whiteness of the skin.
And then, oh! then, the central spot of man’s desire, the rosy close-shut lips where nature loves to revel, whence she springs and whither she returns—‘la source’—it was there visible in its almost infantine perfection.
All indeed was there except—the head. That all important member was conspicuous by its absence, and yet the gentle undulations of the fair maiden plainly evidenced that she suffered no inconvenience by its non-appearance.
Mr Delmont exhibited no astonishment at this phenomenon. He had been prepared for it, and also enjoined to maintain the strictest silence. He therefore busied himself to observe and delight himself with such charms as were prepared for his enjoyment.
Meanwhile no sooner had he recovered from his surprise and emotion at the first view of so much naked beauty, than he found certain evidences of its effects upon those sensuous organs which so readily respond in men of his temperament to emotions calculated to produce them.
His member, hard and swollen, now stood out in his breeches and threatened to bust from its confinement. He, therefore, liberated it, and allowed a strong but gigantic weapon to spring into light, and rear its red head in presence of its prey.
Reader, I am only a flea. I have but limited powers of perception, and I fail in ability to describe the gentle gradations and soft creeping touches by which this enraptured ravisher approached his conquest. Revelling in his security, Mr Delmont ran his eyes and his hands over all. His fingers opened the delicate slit, over which as yet only a soft down had made its appearance, while the girl, feeling the intruder in her precincts, wriggled and twisted to avoid, with the coyness natural under the circumstances, his wanton touches.
But now he draws her to him; his hot lips press the soft belly—the tender and sensitive nipples of her young breasts. With eager hand he firmly seizes her swelling hip, and pulling her towards him, opens her white legs and plants himself between.
Reader, I have already remarked I am only a flea. Yet fleas have feelings, and what mine were I will not attempt to describe when I beheld that excited member brought close to the pouting lips of Julia’s moist slit. I closed my eyes; the sexual instincts of the male flea rose within me, and I longed—yes! how ardently I longed to be in Mr Delmont’s place.
Meanwhile steadily and sternly he proceeded in his work of demolition. With a sudden bound he essayed to penetrate the virgin parts of the young Julia. He fails—he tries again, and once more his baffled engine flew up and lay panting on the heaving belly of his victim.
During this trying period no doubt Julia must have spoilt the plot by an outcry more or less violent, but for a precaution adopted by that sage demoraliser and priest, Father Ambrose.
Julia had been drugged.
Once more Mr Delmont returned to the charge. He pushes, he forces forward, he stamps his feet upon the floor, he rages and he foams, and oh, God! the soft elastic barrier gives way and he goes in—in with a feeling of ecstatic triumph; in, until the pleasure of the tight and moist compression forces from his sealed lips a groan of pleasure. In, until his weapon, buried to the hair which covered his belly, lay throbbing and swelling yet harder and longer in its glove-like sheath.
Then followed a struggle no flea can describe—sighs of blissful and ravishing sensations escape his open slobbering lips, he pushes, he bends forward, his eyes turn up, his mouth opens, and, unable to prevent the rapid completion of his lustful pleasures, the strong man gasps out his soul, and with it a torrent of seminal fluid, which thrown well forward squirts into the womb of his own child.
All this time Ambrose had been a hidden spectator of the lustful drama, and Bella had operated on the other side of the curtain to prevent any approach to utterance on the part of her young visitor
This precaution was, however, unnecessary; for Julia, sufficiently recovered from the effects of the narcotic to feel the smart, had fainted.
Chapter 11
No sooner was the struggle over, and the victorious, rising from the quivering body of the girl, began to recover himself from the ecstasy into which so delicious an encounter had thrown him, than suddenly the curtain was slid on one side, and Bella herself appeared in the opening.
If a cannon-shot had suddenly passed close to the astonished Mr Delmont, it could not have occasioned him one half the consternation which he felt, as hardly believing his own eyes, he stood, open-mouthed, alternately regarding the prostate body of his victim, and the apparition of her he supposed he had so recently enjoyed.
Bella, whose charming negligee set off to perfection her young beauties, affected to appear equally stupified, but apparently recovering herself, she drew back a step, with a well-acted expression of alarm.
"What—what is all this?” inquired Mr Delmont, whose agitation had prevented him from remembering that he had not as yet even readjusted his clothes, and that a very important instrument in the gratification of his late sensual impulse hung, still swollen and slippery, fully exposed between his legs.
“Heavens! that I should have made such a dreadful mistake,” cried Bella, giving furtive glances at this inviting exhibition.
“Tell me, for pity’s sake, what mistake, and who then, is this?” exclaimed the trembling ravisher pointing, as he spoke, to the recumbent nudity before him.
“Oh, come—come away,” cried Bella, hastily moving towards the door, and followed by Mr Delmont, all anxiety for an explanation of the mystery.
Bella led the way into an adjoining boudoir, and closing the door firmly, she threw herself upon a luxuriously disposed couch, so as to exhibit freely her beauties, while she pretended to be too overwhelmed with her horror to notice the indelicacy of her pose.
“Oh! what have I done! what have I done!” she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands in apparent anguish.
A horrible suspicion flashed across the mind of her companion; he gasped out, half choking with emotion –
“Speak—who is that—who?”
“It was not my fault—I could not know that it was you they had brought here for me, and—and—not knowing better—I substituted Julia.”
Mr Delmont staggered back—a confused sense of something dreadful broke upon him—a distress obstructed his vision, and then gradually he awoke to the full sense of the reality. Before, however, he could utter a word, Bella, well instructed as to the direction his ideas would take, hastened to prevent him time to think.
“Hush! she knows nothing of it—it has been a mistake a dreadful mistake, and nothing more. If you are disappointed, it has been my fault—not yours; you know I never thought for a moment it was to have been you. I think,” she added, with a pretty pout, and a significant side-glance at the still protruding member, “it was very unkind of them not to have told me it was to have been you.”
Mr Delmont saw the beautiful girl before him; he could not but admit to himself that, whatever pleasures might have been his in the involuntary incest in which he had been a party, they had, nevertheless, failed of his original intention, and lost something for which he had paid so dearly.
“Oh, if they should find out what I have done,” murmured Bella, changing a little her position, and exposing a portion of one leg above the knee.
Mr Delmont’s eyes glittered. In spite of himself as his calmness returned, his animal passions were asserting themselves.