Chapter 65: 52 - CHASTITY
The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the opulent bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air—each particle a silent witness to the unfolding intimacy. It had begun with a spark, a shared glance across a crowded room, and now, it culminated in a symphony of sensations.
Not long after, our lips met in a fierce embrace.
His tongue, a brave explorer, began to coil inside, venturing into the uncharted depths of my mouth, a warm duel igniting between our eager tongues, saliva joining the passionate fray.
And it seemed that our saliva joined the warm duel of our tongues.
"Mmmh... Arturo."
I uttered, half-gasping—perhaps because I found it hard to breathe.
His arms no longer felt like a perch; though he held me tightly so I wouldn’t fall.
My arms wound around him like a necklace encircling his neck.
The clash of our lips grew wilder and more voracious. Small kisses turned into fierce, deep grabs that, because of our muffled sounds, could barely be heard.
Arturo slowly opened the bedroom door, then gently closed it again.
His hand began to roam my chest, and I responded with little moans.
"Mmmhhh... ohhh, Arturo..." his name was the only word I could manage, nothing else.
He—still holding me—lowered me onto a large, soft bed, as if preparing a feast he’d soon devour. Impatient, I urged him on.
This was my first time.
Yet the curiosity that drove me here wasn’t born of innocence alone.
As a child, I’d once awakened to the horror of my father assaulting a servant in the dead of night. It had shaken me—awakened a question I couldn’t ignore: what did it feel like to surrender or to be claimed? In secret, I’d explored my body again and again, fingers tracing paths to ecstasy that never quite satisfied my mounting hunger.
The irony was not lost on me – I’d never witnessed my father engage in such intimacy with his lawful wife, my mother, Milea Roxanne Lovecraft. The private explorations, the desperate fingering to the point of ecstasy, had always fallen short, leaving a hollow ache, an unfulfilled, excessive gluttonous need.
So now, with Arturo... I wanted to choose it for myself, to embrace the experience on my own terms. I even fingered myself to the point of ecstasy.
However, it never was enough to satisfy my excessive gluttonous need.
So now, with Arturo... I wanted to choose it for myself.
"Well then, Arturo my love, what are we waiting for?" I murmured impatiently.
"Just a moment, dear Helena. This is only the beginning."
He slipped my panties down and pressed a single finger to my most guarded place—my sanctum. My hips tilted toward him, my breath catching in a cascade of moans.
He slid a finger into my protective walls—the sacred place untouched by any but him.
Except him, and only him.
My moans were, of course, all over the place.
What did you expect from a young, innocent Helena?
Even I didn’t know how to control the desire that churned at my temples.
"Ngghh... enough, Arturo... please."
He smiled against my mouth.
"Still impatient, aren’t you? Didn’t I say this was just the beginning?""
One by one, his fingers entered, piercing those walls and—oh, my... so deep.
His fingers pressed deeper—one, then two, stretching me gently, deliberately. It felt clinical, almost—like he was checking to see if I still possessed what some men valued most: my innocence.
"Why would you want this? And will you be okay?"
"Because I’m a woman, sweetheart. I need a man who’s worthy—like you. Yes, I’ll be fine, and I won’t regret this. I promise."
"Very well, if that’s what you wish."
Moments later, the ever-shy Arturo slowly removed his shirt and white underwear, then unzipped and slid down his black trousers.
Soon, the most crucial moment arrived—and what I saw was utterly beyond reason.
Honestly, I was terrified.
The sight of him—his length, long and formidable—was more than I expected.
Could something that large even fit?
I swallowed. Sweat prickled along my skin.
Not that I didn’t appreciate how magnificent his organ was—only that I never expected Arturo to possess something so large and long. My nerves frayed; sweat beaded on my face as if even my pores struggled to breathe at the sight of it.
"Helena, what’s the matter? Why are you like this?"
"Nothing—just surprised."
He leaned in and kissed me, then gently but surely began to unzip my red top he’d shucked my black bra and tossed it aside, in no time freed me from the last of my clothes, leaving behind a tempting view of me—an intact body that served as his main course.
His hands worshipped my body, igniting flames where his fingertips roamed. My moans sharpened, instinct outpacing thought. His expert hands began to caress me, and I responded reflexively, my body heating up. And despite my nerves I moaned, writhed, and gasped incoherently. My nipples hardened instantly under his skilled touch—so different from the innocent Arturo I remembered, much like myself now.
"Arturo... now."
"Almost there," he murmured, toying with my nipple until I gasped.
He teased my nipple with his fingers, then kissed and nibbled it like a ripe fruit.
Again, my moans ran wild, my voice unrestrained, babbling as best I could.
"That’s it. Ready?" he asked, mounting me gently.
"Yes, but..."
"Oh, this?" he said, gripping his length.
"Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable with this. Okay?"
I simply nodded, closing my eyes. I didn’t want to witness that large thing entering me. Yet it began, ever so slowly. Its tip touched my defenses but he hadn’t pushed further.
With my eyes shut, I imagined the wildest things that were sure to happen. The stimulation grew dramatically, and the kisses and bites he gave me multiplied when my eyelids sealed.
"Why are your eyes closed, darling?"
"I’m scared. Something that big inside me? You’re insane, love."
"But you wanted this, didn’t you?"
"Yes, it’s not your fault. Perhaps I’m overreacting—but I just want to feel it."
"Alright, if that’s what you want. I’ll comply, my lady."
"Hey, don’t you dare call me that. I’m the Lovecraft family’s prized weapon—not some Machiavelli heir."
"Oh, of course I know that. But to me, you’re just a princess."
I didn’t answer, remaining indifferent with closed eyes.
Before long, it slipped in—slowly—through my defenses. I cried out in pain, as if a needle had pierced me; so sharp that it penetrated deeply. Then, without warning, my wall gave way. My purity shattered. All I could do was moan as he continued to kiss my lips, ensuring I remained comfortable even as I felt every inch of him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes—it hurts a bit, but I can keep going."
His large length became slick inside me, as though coated by a fluid that eased its passage deeper. It was granted solemn permission to enter that sacred chamber. With each thrust, it adjusted to my shape, gripping me as if unwilling to let go.
My body trembled around him, wrestling the ache into a mounting blaze of pleasure. Each measured thrust pressed against something forbidden, a point of sacred bliss I’d only read about in the academy’s forbidden texts
Arturo himself groaned wildly, like a stallion driven by its rider, thrusting until the collision of our hips echoed "SMACK!" again and again, even as my lids remained sealed..
He groaned, driving into me with growing urgency. Our hips met in a relentless rhythm—smack, smack, smack—and I surrendered fully to the tide.
Our entwining continued relentlessly, deeper and harder, punctuated by his kisses and the constant squeeze of my breasts. Pure ecstasy. Until, at last, I became aware of the possible consequences. But ah, well— I was still incapable of conception, so it didn’t matter.
All else fell away: my family name, my legacy, the banquet awaiting me. In that moment, I was simply Helena—his Helena.
"Helena, may I?" he panted, voice think.
I nodded, already understanding his intention. My eyes stayed closed until...
I felt something miraculous filled me. A sensation beyond description or depiction.
Moments later, warmth flooded me—his release, claiming me wholly. The fluid spilled forth—I opened my eyes wide in astonishment at what had just transpired.
He pumped it repeatedly; I felt every pulse and thrust beneath my abdomen.
Each pulse, each surge, as if his very essence became wholly mine and mine alone.
When I looked around, Arturo lay spent, perhaps from pumping that fluid so many times. His handsome face glistened with sweat, as did his athletic body, which collapsed onto my exhausted frame.
His head rested against my breasts like a bird making an emergency landing between hills.
I stroked his head and whispered, "I love you so much, Arturo."
He said nothing—perhaps too spent from all that, preparing everything for the banquet and family ball held only once a year. His head nestled between my breasts like a weary bird making an emergency landing between hills.
Without hesitation, I gently stroked his hair that lay atop me. Soon, I too fell into a deep sleep, though he still remained inside me, softened and shrunken.
