Chapter 2
With mingled awe and admiration we scan the chapters of Tilly’s diary. In her crude, unlettered way, she had the divine gift of description, for she made the life of her mother breathe and pulsate for us. She recreated a being long since gone, in terms that were slightly hackneyed and stilted, but which nevertheless had the inherent strength of truth and reality.
During the long night that Tilly spent with her mother in the security of their common boudoir, Leni, the mother, revealed the warmth of her own childlike nature and retold with evident pleasure how she came to bring forth that little beauty that was Mathilda.
It seems that the master of the house was a retired general, who had served under Frederick the Great and despite his advanced age and predisposition to gout, he still retained his eye for a well-turned ankle and a full high female bosom. It was said that in his early life he had more women than Solomon had concubines and that a great part of his immense income was given over to supporting the numerous children that he begat. There were some who said that he used his tool so frequently that he had no time to button his trousers. In any event his lance was rarely sheathed. However, it was also told by those who knew him well that his ardor was always at such heat that young women preferred him to more youthful stags.
Whatever may be the truth, hones, Godly girls were a bit afraid of him. It was precisely because they were virgins and zealous in the defense of their virginity that he desired them. There was a zest and a relish in braking down theses flimsy redoubts that appealed to his brave, adventurous spirit. It was almost like a continuation of his long, successful campaigns in the field of battle. He would advance, then beat a strategic retreat, but never did he flee the battleground, always keeping his objective in mind and always finally winning the day.
One day after a particularly trying siege of the gout, he rang for Reinhold to bring him his beer before retiring for his afternoon nap. The butler was nowhere around at the moment and the bell jangled angrily in the downstairs kitchen. Everyone of the scullery maids was paralyzed with fear lest the lord and master visit his terrible wrath on their heads for not answering the bell and each looked at the other to see who wh would have the temerity to go up to him. Leni, whose duties never took her out of the kitchen, except at such times as she would have to clean up the rooms when the occupants were away, was the only one who could find no good reason for refusing the summons.
She responded to the call and entered the general’s room without the fear and trepidation that a better knowledge might have caused her. The old man looked at her under his beetling brows and took in her luscious contours. Even in the mean dress she wore, she was a picture for any connoisseur of feminine pulchritude, and the old stallion had not yet lost his eye for curves.
“Come here, my child,” he bade her. “I’ve never seen you before, have I?”
“No, Excellenz,” she stammered, a bit embarrassed by the warmth of his greeting. “Herr Reinhold is busy somewhere and I knew you would not want to be kept waiting. Is there anything your Honor wants?”
He looked at her again and the cockles of his old, yet errant, heart warmed by her appearance. Here was something that was worthy of even his admiration.
“Oh, it’s nothing important,” he said. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Leni, Excellenz,” she replied.
“Come here, my child,” he said. “let me look at you.”
She came toward him and he pulled her forward and put his arm around her waist.
“What is a beautiful maedchen like you doing in the kitchen?” he asked.
“She lowered her eyes. “I work there, your Honor,” she said.
“Ah, but you are too nice for that kind of work, child,” he told her. “We must find something else for you to do.”
She curtsied to him. “Your Excellenz is too good to say that,” she said demurely.
He pulled her closer to him and pushed his hand casually up around her bust.
“My, my,” he said wonderingly, “you are well-formed, aren’t you?”
Leni drew back a bit. She was still shy and was beginning to be a bit fearful of what his manner portended.
“Why, little one,” he said, “you are not afraid of me, are you?”
“No, your Highness,” she hastened to reply.
“Of course not, you darling,” he said, showing his teeth in what he thought was a disarming smile, while his lower lip trembled a bit and his mutton-chop whiskers shook with the working of his heavy jowls.
“You know, I’m old enough to be your father,” he told her with candor, “so you needn’t worry about me. Why, if I were and old lady you wouldn’t be afraid of me, would you?”
He didn’t wait for her answer but went on, “You see, liebchen, I’m an old and lonely man and I have really no one to talk to but Reinhold and that stupid ass is too much awed by my rank to talk to me as man to man. I like you. Sit down near me.”
She might have demurred, but those were the days when servants were as much a part of the household as any piece of furniture and the lower classes were taught to obey. Leni sat down shivering a bit, without exactly knowing the reason for her tremors.
The general stroked her hair and caressed her. He felt of her arms and ran his hands over other parts of her body. His hands were hot and a bit clammy with perspiration.
“You are delightful, Bubchen,” he said with a lecherous chuckle. “never have I seen anyone so perfectly formed.”
“What are these things” he said playfully, as he plunged his hand into her bosom.
“Oh, your Excellenz,” Leni cried, “you mustn’t do that.”
“But, kindlein,” he laughed, “why must I not? You are not ashamed of them, are you? Why, child, you ought to be proud to have someone see what you have. Some of the finest Damen in the country would be proud to have such shapely little titties as you have.”
He gave her no time to withdraw. He took out the teats, one by one and fondled them.
“Beauties,” he muttered, “beauties. Just look at that. As large as pumpkins, and what skin! Why, like milk and honey.” He put his cheek up against the velvet surface of one, beautiful globe and took the nipple between his old fingers. He pinched it and kneaded it as if he would mash it to a pulp and when she cried out in pain, he kissed it and told her he was sorry. “I could eat you, you’re so luscious,” he said.
“Come, little one, sit on my lap.”
There was little Leni could do but obey. If she refused she knew her position in the household was forfeited and the displeasure of such a prominent person as the general would blast all hopes of ever finding another situation.
“Put your arms around me, Liebchen,” he said. “Don’t be afraid, little darling. Have you a father?”
But the way he pulled her closer to him was hardly the manner of a pater familias.
“My little one doesn’t wear very nice clothes, does she?” he asked as he lifted her skirt up a bit. “my, my, cotton underthings.” And he clucked solicitously. “We must remedy that at once. We’ll get you some fine silk underwear. But really, I’m curious to see what those you have on are like. I’ve never seen such long, ugly drawers before.”
He raised the petticoats higher and Leni burrowed her head in his shoulder in shame, and closed her eyes. The drawers were long and ungainly and reached below her dimpled knees, while they did little to enhance the beauty of her gloriously bulging thighs. They were gathered in at the waist by a drawstring and in the center they were open so that Leni might with little trouble spread her splendid legs apart when she answered the call of nature.
“Ah,” the old general exclaimed, as he thrust his hand into the slit of her drawers, “you are slightly dampish, my child.”
He took out his handkerchief and drew it gently between her legs wiping away the imaginary dew, then gallantly returned the handkerchief to the upper portion of his lounging robe. But immediately he drew his hand back to the position he had held, feeling tenderly of her young, curly-haired cunny. “Like samite,” he muttered. “Child, you are exquisite.” He ran his hand up and down that delicious triangle, while his mouth watered and his eyes gleamed with unholy glee.
For some reason he felt that he was being hampered by the covering of her drawers and in his haste to get a full view of her beautiful young vagina, he tore the pantalettes to shreds. “Oh,” he said contritely, “I’ve torn them. But never mind, little sweetheart, I shall get you better and finer ones.”
Leni blushed and trembled and bit her lip. What would he do to her?
He stood her up before him and pulled her dress down and made her step out of it and then he helped her out of her torn pantalettes. Leni was a sight to behold. She was a painter’s dream.
Her waist was narrow and her abdomen flat, let her navel down she was as delightfully chubby as any three year old girl. The folds of flesh ran right down to her divine little triangle, which had curly, blond tendrils in profusion around two, dewy lips.
The general was in ecstasy. He got down on his hands and knees and explored her triangle, pushing her legs apart. He put in his old shaking fingers into her long slit, while he slowly drew each lip away from the other. He noted the little inner folds of pink flesh and drew them apart too to see the tinted little beauty that was her clitoris. It came to a point like a little rosebud, and by now, in spite of her slight aversion, she could not help but feel a certain agitation of spirit and it reflected itself in a slight flow of maiden-dew. The general was back in the days of his youth.
Perhaps he could not exactly ride to the hunt as well as he used to, but he could still go through the motions. Here was a mount fit for a king, but if he could not ride her, he could at least law with her and get a spiritual if not bodily orgasm.
He lifted her up bodily and carried her to the divan.
“Don’t fear Liebchen,” he whispered, “I’m not going to hut you. I’m just going to play with you a little. ”He got down on his knees again and buried his old head in the curve of her groin, lapping the dew from her soft, fat, little cunny, as if it were scented pollen and he were a bee. Perhaps his charger could no longer answer the call to battle, but his tongue was still as strong and lusty as any one’s. he pushed that questing, sensitive organ into the folds of the little flower and sucked each, separate nook and cranny until even the frightened little girl began to forget her fear and gave herself over to delight of the senses.
He was about to take the little mound of Venus between his lips, when a door slammed behind them. The general looked up startled, while his face which had been red now grew purple.
He got up from his knees, temples pounding and his eyes flashing anger.
“What is this?” he roared. “Who dares enter without bidding.”
“Why, father, it is I,” a young man’s voice broke in on them.
Hastily, Leni pulled the coverlet of the divan about her and sat up, her flushed face growing redder and then pale by turns.
Before them stood a fine figure of a young man dressed in a Hussar’s uniform. Leni had never seen him before but she understood that this must be the son of the house, the young Kapitan freiherr von Bertesgold.
There was no hint of pleasure in the old general’s face as he gazed on his son and heir.
“Of course I’m glad to see you Fritz,” the old man said, “but verdammter Kerrl,” he thundered, “what do you mean breaking in on me like this?”
“Aber, Father,” the young soldier said quietly with a smile, “I have not broken in on you. You know, I have knocked on the door perhaps far more than five minutes and since you did not answer my knock, I thought you might be ill or something, so I entered. The door wasn’t locked. But, father, you needn’t feel embarrassed on my account. I see you have a worthwhile playmate. You haven’t lost you old cunning!”
The general’s face grew livid. “I’ll thank you to keep you lip, young man. You have evidently forgotten your manners. Now leave this room at once. I’ll see you later.”
To Leni he bowed courteously. “You may leave now, little one, whenever you are ready, I shall see you again.”
Leni hastily got into her dress while she surreptitiously rolled her torn drawers together and shamefacedly tried to push them under her apron, while she sidled fearfully out of her room.
Leni did not hear the bitter recriminations between father and son, but she knew that whatever love was between them, a definite breach had been riven there by the old general’s choleric temper and the young Hussar’s cynical laughter. Eve in her young unworldliness, the girl knew that powerful me do not like to be discovered in their weaknesses.
She shrank from the room and sought to efface herself by slinking in the shadows of the gloomy corridors. A vast turmoil as in her breast and the thought of her postion in the household was not prepossessing. Whatever came of her contact with the general, she knew this was the beginning rather than the end osome new page in her life and the uncertainty of it all struck her with redoubled force when she contemplated the young soldier’s contempt when and if he met her again. There was something fine about both his appearance and his manner of speaking. He was not as other young men she had seen or known.
That night she lay in her narrow cell-like room, a prey to the harrowing thought that soon the inevitable would happen and the old general would have his will of her. It was not that sex as such was repellant to her, for in common with other maidens of her age, she too dreamed of all consuming passion and desired with all her body and soul, the embrace of a man, the searing scorching flames of an orgasm. But she knew that the old lecher would only despoil her. Where she remembered his uneven fangs, his foul breath and his filmy eyes as they gleamed myopically at the sight of her young, dewy triangle, she shuddered and every healthful desire to her body was stilled.
Now, in an effort to be an equal opportunity blogger, we shall apply the Anna Nicole Addendum to Demi and Ashton.
The look of the seductress is stone cold grey. While appearing to tantalize, an actual touch will reveal the hard marble coldness of the emotion.
Strip away the skin and things get very painful, very quickly -- same thing for stripping away clothes. The exposed nerves was meant as a metaphoric reference to acutal exposed nerves and was not intended to be confused with Nerve.com, the wonderful on-line magazine dealing with sex related issues and art.
We all shall shuffle off this mortal coil -- no matter how much or how well we write.
This portion of the poem was completely inspired by Shakespeare's Sonnet 65. In a weird twist, I modified the quill from the movie Quills to create the pen spilling blood red poetry. Nothing like coupling true love and the Marquis De Sade.
She looks lost to me. And look at that giant pussy in the background. Can Love's Labour ever be won with such a violent pussy lurking?
Don't you think Shakespeare looks like a $100.00 Bill? Money would be so much more meaningful if we could put literary figures on our cash. 
Flesh. Even this General Authority looking guy finds it fascinating. Is that needlepoint in his lap?
The little lines in Franklin's forehead were what these poetic lines were referring to. I'm guessing that most of the wrinkles on my forehead come from worrying about money, too.
This is the way the sex ends.
