Angelica Victorious

Angelica almost always thought of herself as Cinderella. Of course her aunt wasn’t really cruel and her cousins, although they were sometimes mean, were also nice to her now and then and often gave her hand- me-down clothes to wear. But she did all the dirty jobs and she never got to go to parties or dances. She was their servant, slept in the cellar and earned her keep. The girl’s parents had died in an accident when she was young, and her aunt was the only relative willing to take her in as she was repeatedly reminded.

After the family left for the ball that evening, Angelica took off her shabby skirt, tattered drawers and sweaty shirt and stood before the full-length looking glass in her aunt’s dressing room. She examined herself, turning left and right and then got a hand mirror and looked at her back and her buttocks. She decided that she was pretty, in fact very pretty. She was right.

Angelica was almost sixteen, nearly five-two in her bare feet and she weighed around 100 pounds. Her waist was slim, her hips nicely sloped and curved and her buttocks firm and rounded especially when she stood up on her toes. Her rapidly developing breasts, now nearly the size and shape of the balls used in lawn bowling, sat high on her chest and would have easily filled most men’s hands. They were topped with tiny rosebud nipples that turned slightly away from each other and were very sensitive. She smiled at the mirror and admired her face, knowing she would be beautiful some day. She was right about that too. She had excellent bone structure, lovely eyes, kissable lips, a high forehead, a stubborn chin, clear skin and a small nose.

She took a deep breath and found one of her cousin’s frilly and lace-trimmed chemises, much too fine an undergown to be called a shift. She shrugged it down over her curls and smoothed it over her developing hips. It would have to do, she decided seeing that her nipples were barely visible and the few blonde curls sprouting in her groin could not be seen because of the shadow of her small belly. She belted it just below her breasts with a piece of blue satin ribbon in the current high-waisted style. She put her feet in some slippers of her cousin’s and tied a blue ribbon about her golden hair so it was pulled high on her head instead of hanging halfway down her back.

Then she hurried down to the carriage house and met Hugo as he returned with the closed barouche. “A messenger just left,” she told him breathlessly, “you’re to take me there and wait for me. It’s important.”

The driver looked at the luscious little blonde standing before him in a filmy gown and felt himself quickly aroused. With the light behind her, he could see right through her dress. The other girls were plain as dirt compared to this beauty, he decided as he held the door for her and admired her ass and shapely leg as she stepped up. He doubted there had been any messenger.

At the stone-walled mansion, Angelica hopped from the rig, cried, “Wait for me,” and dashed around to the back of the big home, mounted the brick stairs that led from the garden and stood on the patio looking in at the dancers and other party goers talking and laughing together in the candlelight. This had been her goal: just to see the party, the clothes, the young men. She squealed when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face a tall gentleman with a slim cigar between his lips. He was wearing the uniform of a guards officer.

“What have we here?” he said, tossing the cigar away and smiling. He put both hands on her slim shoulders.

“Lord James,” the girl said, recognizing one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors who was rumored to be the lover of a series of beautiful women over the past decade. He was, in fact, an aging Lothario of some note and the despoiler of countless young women and not a few children. He thought of himself as insatiable and irresistible. He was the old Baron’s only son. He was a lecher.

The man raised Angelica’s trembling hand to his lips, kissed her fingers and said, “Come, this way.” He led her down a dark path to the first carriage in the rank and pulled her inside and kissed her mouth firmly, grasping her buttocks and the back of her head as she tried to squirm away. The eager man grabbed the silk garment clinging to the struggling girl’s back, tore it from her and tossed it out the window, ribbon and all. The driver saw the flash of white and then the torn gown float to the ground. He smiled to himself and scratched at his groin, having planned to wait only briefly for the silly girl’s return but now content to wait his turn.

Angelica felt the man’s large hand close over her left breast and squeeze and then her nipple was pinched between his fingers as his lips covered hers again and his tongue pressed into her mouth and his fingers probed between her legs. She tasted both fear and tobacco. Her mind whirled as she tried to push her assailant away. But he was a strong and virile man and barely recognized her pummeling small fists on his chest and shoulders or her kicking feet in the enclosed space. He had enjoyed unsuspecting girls this way many times and liked it much better when they struggled. He was already tumescent in anticipation.

The baron’s heir quickly undid his bulging foreflap and let his overheated cock leap forth. He was a well-hung man and one who had much practice in the use of his mighty endowment, taking pride in how many virgins he conquered and how often he roused them to blubbering surrender. He pulled the struggling girl up on his lap, bent to suck one of her pink tits into his mouth and pulled her down his thighs to meet his throbbing manhood, which arched up, its glans nearly purple, its thick shaft pulsing with blood.

Angelica squealed and gasped as she felt the blunt head of his cock rub along the inside of her thighs, pry into her folds and then bump against her pulsing lips. “No, no, don’t, please don’t,” she cried, suddenly aware of his intent.

He turned his attention to her other breast and nipped at her tiny tit, lapping it firmly with his tongue until it hardened and jutted. He grasped her hips and rotated her pelvis upward slightly, pushing firmly with his hips and probing with one hand on his heavy cock until he felt the narrow-lipped portal open as the girl’s legs were spread widely about his waist. With his hard and throbbing prick now set at her inner lips, he got both hands on her buttocks and pulled her to crushing impalement with a cry of triumph.

“Please, please,’ the girl sobbed as she felt the man’s cockhead prise open her tender passage. “I beg of you,” she moaned as he withdrew an inch and then grunted and pounded two inches deeper, fingers buried in her buttocks as she arched before him, her eyes wide and mouth open as his ram stretched her virginal barrier, and her flesh parted and surrendered to his searing invasion. She felt at if a heated poker with ramming into her.

He took a deep breath, lifted the girl slightly and then plunged her down on his upright shaft, tearing through her maidenhead and sinking his entire thick member into her immature vagina.

The girl screeched and spasmed on his spear as her blood began to flow down his cock. He could feel the warmth and did not want his new breeches soiled so he lifted her off his ram and let her fall to the floor of the carriage, sobbing, drawing up her legs. He wiped his throbbing cock with his big handkerchief and then dropped in on the mewling girl. “Wipe yourself clean and get back up here,” he said, “we’ll play a different game. Be quick about it.”

He pulled her up on his knees with her back to him, lifted her once more onto his dripping prong and clamped her to him as he savagely re-entered her ravaged body. “This is called ride a cockhorse,” he said gaily as he began at a walking pace, jolting the young woman up and down on his thick thighs and iron hard ram. He cupped her small breasts and watched her hair bounce as he enjoyed her, knowing he could keep this up almost indefinitely and very pleasurably for the girl was tight and juicy, her cunt quivering and grasping on the blood-gorged invader tearing her open and battering at her womb. He ignored her gasping wails and weak struggling.

Tiring of that game, the nobleman slid to the far side of the seat, pulled the girl up beside him, mounted on his knees behind her young body, bent well over her, humped vigorously and quickly climaxed, firing several bolts of his thick sperm into her. When he was spent, he gave the sobbing youngster three more hard thrusts and then withdrew from her battered vulva and patted her bottom, wiping his cock on her thigh.

“Very good, missy,” he said, “well done indeed. I shall send you more trade.”

He stepped down from the rig, cleaned his flabby cock with the torn dress, glanced up at the driver who was studiously looking away and buttoned up his britches. Off he strode toward the house glowing with light, whistling a waltz.

The driver, who had listened intently to the rape, hopped down, opened his codpiece, freed his rigid cock and stepped into the carriage where girl was rolled into a small ball on the seat, weeping and sobbing, her knees to her chin. He knelt on the floor, pulled Angelica to him, spread her legs and drove his thick cock up into her hot little cunny without delay. She squealed weakly. With her limp legs at his sides and her head lolling listlessly, he held her hips and enjoyed himself in the nobleman’s spew, ramming into her again and again, joy and lust mixing in his heart as her tight vagina massaged his rod. She seemed insensible but her moonlit beauty kept the man inflamed.

“Here it comes,” he cried after thirty seconds of rapid copulation, and fired several ropes of his jism into her narrow chute. She hardly knew she was being violated until he yanked his cock out of her and pulled her head down to make her lick him clean. When he was satisfied, he hurried back to his place, and the girl leaned out the door and vomited into the dark.

“This is the one, I’m pretty sure,” said the baron-to- be. “Hop up there and see if you don’t find the prettiest little cunt in Christendom.”

Angelica felt the carriage rock and then there was a large man beside her, his hard hand on her bare leg. “Come here, my dear,” he said, “come here and kiss me.”

The girl struggled, but the big man was very strong and his mouth soon mashed hers as his hands explored all of her bare body. He put her down on the floor between her silk-clad legs and opened his brocaded codpiece to produce a sizeable and half-roused penis. He patted the girl’s cheek. “Suck,” he said.

Angelica shook her head, looking up at the man’s florid face. He backhanded her, jarring her teeth and again said, “Suck.”

“No, no,” she cried and he pushed his rigid member into her mouth and right back to the entrance of her throat. Angelica gagged several times. The man smiled down at her and said, “Suck.” He put his big hand about her slim throat, frightening her.

She swallowed, gasped for breath and then sucked, sobbing as best she could.

“Use your tongue, bitch,” he said, moving her head back and forth on his thick rod with his other hand tangled in her hair, “and be careful about your teeth.”

Angelica thought of biting him, but he was three times her size so she closed her eyes and sucked as he eased his grip on her neck.

The man shook her. “Look at me,” he demanded.

The girl opened her mouth widely and tried to say, “Stop,” but nothing came out, as the huge cock in her mouth suddenly seemed to swell and gush forth.

“Swallow,” said the big man, leaning back as he jerked and came again.

When he was satisfied, the big-bellied man wiped his spent member in the girl’s tresses and heaved himself out of the carriage. He produced a coin from his leather purse, tossed it to the gawking driver and said, “Take this baggage to my rig. It’s the fourth or fifth one down, has a red crest on the door. Tell my driver to keep his hands off of her and you do the same.”

The man tugged her forelock and got down from his seat as the young baron and his friend strode back toward the house where the party was beginning to break up. He tugged the limp girl from the carriage, tossed her over his shoulder, ignored her spitting and coughing, shoved his middle finger into her pussy and took her down the row to a fancy carriage sporting a red escutcheon on its doors.

“Got some’in for ya,” he said to the driver who was leaning back and smoking a pipe. “Some’in you ain’ spoze to fuck.”

The driver clambered down, opened the door and watched as the pale girl was deposited on the tufted leather seat. “She’s bung hole tight,” said the man dusting his hands together.

“That so,” the liveried driver said, knocking his pipe against the back wheel. He hoisted himself up on the seat as the other man hurried back to his carriage. He looked down at the gasping girl and was roused by her beauty and nakedness. He lifted her limp legs up on his thighs, freed his quickly swelling manhood and plunged into her tight-lipped cunny, ripping her open once more since his manhood was wider than the first three to violate the weeping virgin. After three tries he found the right hole and sank his stiff member into her with a cry of pleasure and relief. He had not enjoyed a woman for more than two months and he had never had a girl this young or so lovely.

Grunting steadily the man hurried toward his climax, mauling the girl’s lush breasts as he banged in and out of her, rocking the carriage on its springs. When he came, he cried out, arching his back, and then he quickly withdrew and climbed up to his seat just as the fat Lord and his foul lady called for their rig. He drove to the front of the mansion, hopped down to help them board, watched as the woman pushed the moaning girl to the floor and kicked her, and then took them back to their home, trying to ignore the cries from beneath.

At their stately home at the end of a mile-long drive lined by cedar trees, Lady and Lord Hunrey had their manservant carry the slight girl up to the front bedroom and lay her on the bed. “Well,” said the woman once the servant had bowed himself out of the room, “at least this one is pretty. What did you pay for her?”

“Not a farthing,” said the man, stripping off his violet coat and untying his neckcloth. “She’s a gift from dear old Jimmy.”

The woman fingered the girl’s battered genitals. “She’s certainly been sorely used.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t drown her on the way home.”

The woman chuckled. “I’m sure she’d never done that before. But she’ll soon learn to serve between my thighs.”

“You can have her tonight,” he said. “I’m off to bed.”

“Who’s warming your blankets tonight? Is it little Jean?”

“What day is this?” he asked as he picked up his clothes, took one last look at the bare young woman spread on the bed, her arm over her eyes, and left the high-ceilinged room. In his bedroom, the young female servant assigned to serve him that evening helped him undress and then sucked him hard and mounted his loins, forcing herself down on his stumpy member as the Lord lay back on his pillows.

In the front room, his wife had peeled herself down to her chemise and was crouched over the girl’s chest, her knees in the young woman’s armpits. She rubbed her furry twat against the girls’ belly and then over Angelica’s ripe breasts and moved a bit higher to lower her thick-lipped and gaping vulva to the girl’s mouth and nose. “Now, dear,” she said in a soft and kindly voice, “lick and suck and use your tongue to explore.”

The vile smell and slimy feel of the woman’s hot and dripping privates revolted Angelica and she turned her head aside.

Lady Hunrey twisted her hand full of the girl’s blonde hair and pulled her head back where she wanted it, ignoring her screech of pain. “Lick, you stupid girl, lick as though your life depended on it for it does.” She eased herself down on the girl’s face and moved her hairy hips from side to side, remembering the time she had suffocated a child this way. She smiled and mashed down on Angelica’s battered mouth.

Once the woman achieved her climax and flooded Angelica’s face with her juices, she kissed and lapped her way down the girl’s smooth body, sucking both nipples hard and then bringing the youngster it a writhing climax with her tongue in Angelica’s slit, her fingers pinching the girl’s tiny clit. Satisfied, she left Angelica spread on the quilts and went down the hall to her room where one of the footmen awaited her, ready if not eager to do his duty toward his vulgar mistress, his hard cock in his hand.

Meanwhile the servant who had carried the limp girl to the bedroom returned by way of the back stairs and slipped silently into the room. He gazed briefly at the beauty spread before him and licked his lips. He quick stripped off his shoes and breeches, climbed up between the girl’s long legs and drove his thick cock into her tiny folds. She arched and opened her mouth and he covered it with his lips and pressed his tongue into her throat.

Grunting and heaving, the big footman humped the barely conscious girl until he came, gritting his teeth and doing his best not to cry out as he filled her with his thick spew. He left as quietly as he had come, went back to the servants’ quarters and told two of his friends what he had been doing. In minutes they were standing naked at the girl’s bedside, admiring her beauty before they used her body vigorously, taking turns in both her mouth and vagina until they were sated after briefly having at her limp body at the same time. Twice they tried to invade her anus but gave up and used her pussy as others had.

In the morning, Lord Hunrey came to the room where Angelica lay, pulled open the drapes, dragged the limp girl to the side of the bed and jabbed his thick morning erection into her. Her eyes popped open and she gasped as he rutted steadily, squeezing her nipples between his fingers until she squealed in pain. When he felt himself about to come, the stout man pulled himself out of the young girl’s grasp, held his cock in his hand and spewed his cream on her body in thick streams. “Damn good,” he said and went to dress for breakfast. The girl lay horrified, hoping it was but a dream.

Angelica stumbled to the narrow windows and looked down at the courtyard some twenty feet below. Her mind refused to deal with what had happened to her as she stepped up on the still. She could feel the most recent rapist’s sperm oozing down her belly and dripping from her nipples.

“Stop,” said a commanding voice behind her and she almost fell to her death before she grabbed the stone abutment and stared at the man in her doorway. “Get down here, girl,” he demanded, pointing toward his feet. “At once.”

Angelica licked her lips, stepped down and approached the big man. She stood before him, hands clasped at her belly and looked up into his deep-set eyes.

He lifted her chin and said, “Name?”

She blinked. “Angelica Per—”

“We shall call you Angel,” he said. “Why are you naked?”

She shook her head.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand, and he walked her down a long hall and two flights of stairs to the female servants’ quarters, found a very old woman sewing in a rocking chair, spun the girl before the crone and said, “Dress her, no, bathe her first and then dress her.” He left, saying over his shoulder, “She’s called Angel.”

The old woman pursed her lips and rang a small bell.

After she was roughly washed and dressed as a house servant, Angelica was put to work clearing the scullery and mopping the tile floors. In mid-afternoon she got her first meal in thirty-six hours and ate slowly and carefully, trying to figure out where she was and what had happened to her. After washing the dishes and taking care of the dogs, she reported to the old woman in the rocking chair and was sent to mop the chapel floor and dust the pews and statue bases.

Angelica worked her way up one aisle and near the altar rail found a man in a black cassock kneeling in prayer before several rows of small candles. She mopped carefully around his feet and he became aware of her and quickly stood.

“Who are you?” demanded the young priest of the ethereally beautiful girl he saw in the light coming through the stained glass windows. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“They call me Angel,” the girl said. “Can you help me? I’ve been stolen, kidnapped, last night, and sorely used.”

“Kidnapped,” said the man, brushing back the girl’s corn-silk hair and admiring her lovely face and beautiful eyes. “Who would have kidnapped you?”

She shook her head. “Earl James, the baron’s son, and then some people, the ones who live here in the big house. Please help me.”

“Yes, yes,” the prelate said, feeling a stirring in his loins, “of course. Come with me.”

Angelica set aside her mop and followed the black-clad man into the small sacristy where he plunked himself down in a chair, spread his knees, hiking his cassock up in his lap and pulled the girl down before him, his lust fully inflamed. “We must pray,” he intoned.

As the man used both hands to free his surging member, Angelica squirmed away, leapt to her feet and ran for the door, yanked it open and dove into the belly of the bluff choir master who clasped her to him and brought her back to the priest, raising at eyebrow at the bared cock sticking up out of his clerical garb.

“This yours?” he asked, shaking the mewling girl.

“In a way,” said the man with a smile, “I was about to hear her confession.”

The big man pushed Angelica down and stood behind her while the priest buried his hands in her blonde hair and brought her mouth to his cockhead. The girl had only sucked and licked him for a minute when he nearly jumped from his chair as his sperm roared through his member and into her mouth, leaking out and down her chin as she gagged and squirmed.

“That was quick,” said the big man, helping the girl to her feet and handing her a dark kerchief he took from his sleeve. “Come with me.”

Since he had a painfully tight grip on her arm, Angelica followed meekly back through the chapel and up to the choir stall where the man sat her on a bench and then knelt before her and produced an enormous male member from his rich clothing. His thick cock was well over eight inches in length and some two inches wide. Frightened by the huge thing, Angelica tried to pull free, crying, “No, no, no.”

The choirmaster laughed as he pulled the young girl to his juddering prick and drove it up into her immature body, impaling her. Thought he, she’s on the stake, now to roast her. She squealed and bounced on his shaft, and he held her buttocks and savaged her until he was satisfied and she was limp. He was by far the cruelest of all the men who had used the slight girl and took nearly fifteen minutes to spend himself in her lush body. Then he wiped his bloodstained member on her coarse skirt and sat beside her, one hand still grasping a lovely breast.

“Can you sing, girl?” he asked after pulling her head around to face him and shaking her a bit. Her beauty was, he decided, astounding, almost unworldly.

“Sing,” she said, blinking, “yes, I like to sing.” She hurt all over.

“Sing me a lullaby,” he said.

She did so, very sweetly but with little volume.

“Very good,” he said, “now sing this” and he roared out a long scale both up and down the notes.

She did her best, faltering twice. Each time she failed, he pinched her nipple.

“Louder,” he demanded.

She stood and tried again with his big hands on her boyish hips, and he nodded and patted her back. “Nice, very nice, but this hair. It will have to go, and we need some boy’s clothes. Come along.”

An hour later Angelica’s hair was cut so short that the back of her neck was bare. The old crone cackled over her blonde curls saying she would get a pretty penny for them. The girl now wore wooden clogs, soiled knee britches, a baggy sleeved shirt and a short jacket or jerkin. She was a very pretty boy with a very sore groin.

The choirmaster hauled her back to the small organ and taught her one song, made her go over it repeatedly until the girl could sing the whole thing loudly and clearly without understanding a word of the Latin. By the time they were done, a dozen real boys had appeared and taken their seats, listening to the newcomer. The master introduced her as “Andy” and said she could sing contralto and soprano but so far only knew the one song. They tried it together with Angelica taking the solo parts, and the master smiled and clapped when they were done. Angel, thought he, had a heavenly voice.

At the end of the hour-long choir practice the young priest and his wrinkled superior were waiting for the girl and the choirmaster. “What have you done to her?” demanded the lean man with the pock-marked face who had made her suck his cock behind the altar.

“Is this a girl?” asked the monsignor. “Shameful.”

“She’s, I mean he’s now in the choir.” The choirmaster held the girl’s arm very tightly.

“I think not,” said the young priest. “We must take her to Lord Hunrey and settle this.”

“In fact,” said a clear voice, “I am here, at my prayers. What is going on? Who is this boy?”

Angelica cowered away from the foul Lord, hiding behind the stout choirmaster. The older priest pulled her out of hiding. “Is this one of your servants?” he asked the lord of the manor.

The man grasped Angelica’s face and turned her head from side to side. “Yes,” he said, “I suppose she is. But she had long, beautiful hair.”

“We want her, to school her,” said the monsignor with a sly smile for the young priest had told him how well the girl had served him.

“Nonsense,” said the choirmaster, waving his arms. “She has a fine voice.”

Angelica stepped back as the men argued and gesticulated. She eased behind a curtain of one of the confessionals and squatted up on the small seat, holding her knees and her breath in the dark, shaking with fear.

“Where the hell is she?” cried the young priest.

“Now you’ve done it, lost her by damn,” yelled Lord Hunrey.

“She can’t have gone far,” said the choirmaster and the four of them quickly searched the pews and then headed out into the halls. When it had been quiet for a few minutes, Angelica tiptoed to the side door and let her self out into the sunshine only to find that two choirboys were there, playing a game with a small knife.

She grabbed one by the arm and turned him toward her. “Can you hide me, help me?” she begged.

‘What wrong?” he asked, surprised.

“Wait a minute,” said the other boy, who was a year older, “did you hear her. That’s a girl.” He spun Angelica toward him. “Aren’t you?”

She nodded. “But I’m in trouble.”

“We’ll be in trouble if we help you,” said the older boy. “I’m going home.” He ran off without even a glance back.

The younger boy, who was thirteen, three years younger than Angelica, took her hand and they went in the other direction, hurrying. Behind the stables they stopped next to a dung heap. “You can hide in there, up in the hay, until it gets dark,” the boy said.

“Can’t you take me home with you?” she asked, a tear on her cheek, her heart beating fast.

“I’m just a servant, a laborer,” he said, “my family has nothing.”

“That’s what I am,” said the girl. “Please.”

He made a face but took her hand and they ran for the gate and down the lane, across a field and by a stone wall they stopped to get their breath.

“I’m Gerland,” said the boy when he could talk.

“My name’s Angelica,” the girl said and she hugged the boy and kissed his mouth. “Thank you, thank you.”

The surprised and embarrassed boy kissed her back briefly and then took her hand and walked with her to his family’s rude cottage.

His mother took one look at her and said, “That’s no more a boy than my nanny goat is. She can’t stay here. Your brother and father would be all over her.”

“I’ve no place to go,” the girl said. “Please.”

“Take her out and get her dirty. And girl,” said the woman sternly, “keep your mouth closed and your eyes down. You’re much too pretty.”

That night, after a simple meal that was eaten without any talk, Angelica and the boy who had saved her went off to his bed, disrobed wordlessly and crawled under the worn quilt, avoiding each others eyes.

“I’ve never been with a girl,” whispered Gerland as their warm bodies rubbed together and he felt himself quickly aroused.

“I understand,” she said, grasping his hard member and kissing his mouth, surprised by the size of the lad’s male member. “I’ll do it.” She slipped her knee over his hip and drew him to her and then lay back with the smaller boy atop her, pleased that she had finally done the act by her own will and gratified by the way he felt inside her. Their bodies meshed and coupled and their hips and pelvises began to move together, at first gently but soon with great passion.

When virginal Gerland came the first time, Angelica covered his mouth with hers and hugged him tightly. Before they slept they had enjoyed each other five times. And in the cool of morning, before the cock even crowed, they had pleasured each other three more times and lay sighing and spent in each other’s arms.

The next day, Gerland’s mother wrapped an old skirt about Angelica’s waist and found a position for the girl at a scholar’s large home as a scullery maid. She was to get no pay but would have a dry place to sleep and two meals each day.

On her third day working in the big house, the scholar became aware of the beautiful young woman’s presence and brought her to an open window to look at her more carefully.

Angelica stood passively as he peeled open her shirt and caressed her firm young breasts, a smile on his lips as he fingered her tits. He took her to his bed, pounded her with his hard cock until she screeched with pleasure, found great relief in her when he climaxed and then sent for the village dressmaker while Angelica enjoyed a good meal and some red wine, the inside of her bruised thighs rubbed red.

The man chatted with the girl amiably and was pleased to learn that she could read but had done very little writing. When they finished their meal, the scholar smoked his pipe and pondered what to do with the lovely girl with the very short blonde hair. He decided he would pass her off as a distant cousin and keep her to warm his bed. He was a widely traveled man, but he was sure he had never seen a more beautiful female in his fifty-four years. Then her brought her onto his lap and fucked her.

In her second month as the learned man’s concubine, a fancy dress was made for the girl, and he took Angelica to a ball at the mansion of Lord Hunrey. When she recognized the stone-walled house, the girl recoiled and begged to remain in the carriage, but the scholar insisted and in they went together.

Angelica spotted her aunt and one of her cousins on the far side of the ballroom and quickly made her way out on the patio, remembering it was where she had accosted her less than three months previously. Before she could get back inside and large hand gripped her shoulder.

“I do not believe we have met properly,” said the man she turned to face. He was old and wrinkled with an unruly mane of white hair and purple spots on his bony hands. Angelica knew him at once and bowed deeply. He lifted her chin and smiled.

“What’s your name, pretty one?” asked the aged Baron.

She swallowed and managed to croak out, “Angelica, m’lord.”

“And whose little flower are you?” he asked.

“Yours,” she said with a small smile.

“Then come, Miss Angelica, and you may dine at my right hand tonight. Won’t that cause some tongue wagging?”

A month later the eighty-year-old Baron married the sixteen-year-old beauty in the small church where she had been forced to join the choir. After the joyous celebrating, on their wedding night, the Baron asked his lovely bride what present he could give her before she gave him her wonderful body.

“Banish your son, James,” she said at once.

“Eh?” said her eager husband for despite his years, his child bride in her thin chemise had aroused him, as he had not been roused for nearly a generation.

“At the celebration this afternoon,” said Angelica as she peeled the robe from her husband and kissed his thin chest and his hairy belly, “he pawed me and whispered in my ear that he would rape me again.”

“Again, again?” The man climbed up on his high bed and held up the covers for his lovely wife, his old pintle rising.

Angelica let her gown flutter to the floor and stood before her husband completely bare. “Yes, sire,” she said quietly, “again, for he deflowered me very crudely not long ago and now thinks to use me whenever he chooses.” She climbed up beside the old man and let him hug her to him.

“I’m sorry, very sorry. I will protect you. Where shall we send him?

“The Portuguese colonies in the New World,” she said, “I have heard they are very steamy.”

“Hm,” said the Baron after kissing his young wife and fondling her firm buttocks.

“Perhaps China or Burma but far, far away. I’ve heard of a place called Goa.” She grasped her husband’s member gently and began to stroke it.

“You shall have it,” he said, pulling her under him and spreading her legs. “You may have whatever your heart desires.” He entered her and felt completely satisfied for the first time in years. None of the dozens of mistresses he had used in the past half century gave him half the pleasure this young girl elicited.

And they lived happily ever after, but when Angelica became the Baroness after her husband died in her arms two years later the first thing she did was send out men to find a certain choirboy named Gerland who, she remembered, had pleased her five times almost without pause.