Chapter Twenty-Two
The hall seemed much darker when Nathalie stepped into it. She looked up and down but saw no one. She could hear the voices of the revelers echoing from all directions but there were none in sight.
"I shall be all right," she assured them as she closed the door behind her.
Quietly, she hurried down the corridor, glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds. Her heart was pounding wildly as she hurried faster and faster. She got only halfway through the labyrinth of hallways when she literally ran into a boisterous party of revelers bursting out of one of the rooms.
"Hey!" a buxom redhead cried. "Here is Miss Touch-me-not! Where is your handsome bodyguard, girlie?" The sarcasm literally dripped from her voice.
"Stand aside," Nathalie said coldly, ignoring the insult of the question. "I wish to pass."
This must be the one! she thought. And she is not with Roald, either. A pox on Hedda for the accusation!
"Well! Well!" scoffed an insolent young rake. "Be a good girl and I just might let you fuck me, sweetmeat."
He reached over and squeezed her breast, winking lewdly at her as he bent down to attempt a kiss. Nathalie jerked furiously away.
"Let me by!" she demanded icily but her stomach was churning with fear.
The three young men and two girls crowded her up against the wall even as she spoke. One man reached down and pulled up the hem of her dress.
"Nice legs," he said. "Ahhhhhh, and a nice firm ass, I think, though it is hard to tell through such modest bloomers as these."
Nathalie twisted about frantically but they kept her trapped against the wall. They were all taking turns now, squeezing at her breasts. One girl began unlacing her bodice as she struggled in a silent frenzy to free herself. The hem of her gown was pulled up by man hands and one lad was on his knees before her, unhooking her bloomers.
"Let me go!' she pleaded. "Dear God, let me go!"
Her arms were pinned high against the wall and when she felt her bloomers slipping down to drop to the floor, she tried to kick out at them only to trip on her own underpinnings. She dropped no more than a few inches, her legs held by one lad, her breasts and shoulders pinned by the others.
"If there is one thing I cannot abide, it is a haughty little prig like this one," the redhead snarled.
At that moment, she felt the hot breath of a man against her loins as he moved into her privates.
"It looks good enough to eat," she heard him mumble and she braced herself as his lips moved into her sensitive pudenda.
"Ayiiiiiiiiii!" she cried, thrashing wildly. Oh God, help me! her soul cried out. They will know! They will know!
He jerked her legs open wide, then pulled her knees forward around his shoulders and she was no longer supporting herself. Pinned against the wall, her ass rested heavily in the palms of his hands as he burrowed in to mouth her searing flesh.
The redhead had, at last, unlaced her bodice and was now pushing the material aside to bare her breasts. A low, long whistle rose from the throats of the men as they reached in to feel of her tender, full-fleshed tits.
"Did you ever see hotter nipples?" one groaned in a low, throaty guttural as she felt him lift her breast, grip it between his hands, and then draw her nipple into his suctioning lips.
Her screams echoed down the dark corridors as her body writhed against the torturing hot, wet lips that worked her flesh. Her breasts glistened with saliva and burned with the nibbling, suctioning lips. The head buried in her loins sucked wave after wave of fiery passion through her body, seeming to pull her very life's blood from her limbs as he ate furiously of her meat. Her nugget throbbed wildly and her screams slowly weakened until they were but a keening wail of objection.
She was weak. Too weak to fight the terrible fire that raced through her body, and she prayed only for quick release, her loins aching with the terrible agony of her need.
Oh God, I have failed again, she thought miserably. What good is escape if I must remain forever a captive of my own lust?
She could feel the silky heads of the men's cocks rubbing against her body and then her brain fogged and she could think no more.
"Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned miserably as she thrust her meat deeper into the man's mouth and reached to feel of the throbbing cocks with her hands.
"Some prig!" the redhead laughed in a wild animal guttural.
She did not care. At that instant, the pulsing fire in her brain and her slit exploded and she ground her cunt hotly into the man's suctioning lips as his tongue drew her over the wild abyss.
Her body throbbed out its release, her blood pounding hotly through her veins. She no longer cared. Nothing mattered but the convulsive spasms of passion as she went limp in their arms.
"Stick her!" the girl cried. "Get her down on the floor. She is going to eat me, by God!"
But a louder voice suddenly cut through the bedlam and the revelers froze at the sound of the master's voice.
"Leave her alone!" he commanded fiercely and they backed away as Nathalie slithered to the floor.
Lifting her easily into his arms, he turned and strode down the hall. Nathalie lay against him and, for the moment, she did not care. Drowsily, she wondered how much he had seen but that was the extent of her ability to think.
Arne carried her to her room and laid her gently upon the bed. He stared down at her thoughtfully for a long moment and then turned and walked to the door.
"I shall send someone to care for you," he said and then he left, closing the door softly behind him.
I have ruined everything, Nathalie thought miserably. It is all lost!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Nathalie was crying softly, lying just as Arne had left her, when the door opened and Roald entered. He walked over to the bed before she was aware of his presence and, so miserable was she over her terrible shame, that she looked up at him and lifted her arms up to him.
"Ohhh, Roald, I have ruined everything!" she cried miserably.
Gathering her into his arms as he sat down beside her, he let her cry out her misery before he tried to speak. She sobbed violently for some time before she felt the warmth of his chest against her breasts and realized she had not even covered herself.
In a fit of embarrassment, she hurriedly drew away and turned from him.
"It is all right, Nathalie," he whispered. "I understand."
"No you don't!" she whimpered. "It is terrible."
"Arne Bjornson told me."
"What did he tell you?" she asked.
"Why, that you were molested by a group of rowdies," he said, rather startled at the question.
"Your silly redhead was among them," she snapped unreasonably.
Roald grinned.
"That is all he said?" she asked.
"That is all," he assured her.
"Oh, thank God," she moaned. "Roald, can we leave now? Please! This minute!"
"We can start now," he told her. "If you feel up to it." -
"I am ready," she said fervently.
"Then what did you ruin?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered lamely. "I shall go to the library now. I know where everything is."
"Good! Hedda and Astrid and I will start the fires," he said. "We will meet here as soon as we can. Do not be impatient."
Nathalie nodded and Roald got to his feet.
"Good luck," he said as he closed the door.
"Same to you," she called after him.
Nathalie pulled herself together and brushed her hair carefully. It would not do to be seen by anyone, wandering about in such a condition. She washed as much of the redness from her face and eyes as she could manage and then hurried to the door and peered cautiously down the hall. There was nobody about. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she slipped down the stairs and made her way to the great library.
Oh Lord, she thought, how I hate to see all of these beautiful books burned. Such a terrible loss!
She started across the large room, heading directly for the massive desk used by the master. She sat down in the big chair and was just about to reach for the drawer when an icy voice riveted her to the spot. It was the cold, cruel voice of Sara Bjomson.
"And what are you doing at the master's desk?" she asked.
Nathalie could not think for a moment. She glanced about and finally spotted the source. Sara was sitting in the big high-back chair before the fire, a young girl curled up in her lap.
"Excuse me," Nathalie said shakily. "I did not mean to interrupt."
"You did not answer my question," the woman snapped.
"And what was the question?" Nathalie asked, frantically stalling for time to think.
"I asked what you were doing at the master's desk," she snarled.
"I was going to read," Nathalie answered. "I thought, I could light the lamp here, the light would be better."
She could tell that the woman was disappointed by her answer.
"Get out!" was all the woman said and it was more a hiss than a command.
Nathalie started to flee, sick over her defeat, but at the door, a thought occurred to her. She stopped and forced herself to turn, facing the back of the chair containing the spiteful woman.
"Could I trouble you for a bit of paper and a pen?" she asked.
Incredulously, the woman's head shot out from the side of the heavy wingback.
"What for?" she demanded.
"I-I dabble a bit in poetry," Nathalie answered and her voice shook with fright. "I should like to try my hand at it in my room."
"Get it and be gone!" the woman snapped.
Nathalie could not know of the precariousness of Sara's place at the moment but Sara, herself, was well aware of her position. She did not intend to cross Arne Bjornson for any reason. She fully intended to get even with the little bitch that had caused her all the trouble, but she was going to take her time and get the job done subtly enough to place Nathalie in the poor light and not jeopardize herself. She glared at the girl as she returned to the desk and she never took her eyes off of her until she had quit the room but she said no more.
Nathalie's hands were shaking as she rifled through the drawers at the desk, pretending to search for the paper. Her palm closed about the great seal. She was sweating profusely as she tried to hide her intentions. In the drawer containing the paper, she took several sheets of his personal stationery and several blank pieces. Slipping an envelope between the two, she closed the drawer and nodded her thanks to the furiously glowering woman. Then she fled.
Roald smiled to himself as he left the girl's room. So she knew about the redhead, he thought. Her irritation was certainly obvious enough.
Humming happily to himself, he hurried down to Astrid and Hedda. It had been a long wait. It would be over soon, thank God! He was surprised to find Karen, the Irish, crimson-headed wench, still balling it up in the hallway with her friends.
"Aha!" she snorted. "The beautiful bodyguard of the beautiful body!"
"You should have left her alone, Karen," he scolded. "Arne Bjornson was furious."
"He would have been a lot more furious if he had caught her a few moments before. She is the most passionate-frigid prig I ever met up with, and I shall take the greatest of pleasure in telling the master!"
"Ho!" one of the men yelled. "I ate that sweet little nugget right out of its mind!"
So that was it, Roald thought. "It will probably save that pretty neck of yours," he said out loud. "Have fun," he called, stepping over the splayed bodies and then he hurried down the corridor.
Astrid and Hedda were waiting but they were managing to occupy their time pleasantly enough. Clamped together in a hot embrace beneath the coverlet of Astrid's cot, they stared up defiantly when he entered.
"Can you never learn to knock?" Astrid snapped.
Roald's face was filled with bitterness when he spoke.
"It is time," he said coldly. "If you can tear yourselves apart, we must get on with it."
"Get your gear," Astrid told him. "We will be ready by then," and she returned to the passionate embrace.
Sick with disgust, Roald left the room. How he hated what they had done to his sister. He could not blame her. It was the Bjornsons who should suffer for it. When he returned, he was careful to knock. He did not have to wait. They were ready.
"We'll meet in Nathalie's room," he said quietly. "You know what to do?"
Silently, they nodded and then separated, each to his own task.
Roald had taken the more dangerous assignments. It was up to him to fire the stables and kennels and release the animals. They were both in plain sight of the revelers and he held his breath, expecting to hear a cry of discovery any second. When it was done, he hurried to Nathalie's room and found the girls already there.
"I could not start the fire in the library," Nathalie wailed as he entered the room. "Sara was there. I barely was able to get the seal and stationery."
"But you did get that?" he asked.
"Yes," she told him.
"Then hook up the rope while I take care of it. I have fired one entrance. I shall fire the back exit just in case."
Nathalie was sick with fright.
"What if he is caught?" she moaned.
"He has made it this far," Hedda reminded her. "Come now. Let us lower the rope."
Astrid already had the contraption firmly attached to the sill. It was a double line with a net sling and she did not wait for her brother's return to start using it. Carefully, she lowered all of their gear to the ground and then ordered Hedda into the sling.
"I am petrified," Hedda admitted as she fastened it about herself and looked down the long face of the building.
Cautiously, she climbed out onto the ledge and slowly allowed the rope to carry her weight, "Can you manage it?" she asked.
Nathalie and Astrid strained at the rope.
"We can," Astrid told her and carefully, they began edging her down the rock face of the building.
She was nearly to the ground when Roald returned. '
"Hear the bedlam?" he asked excitedly. "They are beginning to discover the extent of their entrapment."
"Good," Astrid snapped. "Did you get the old bitch?"
"Yes," he said. "She is trapped more so than any."
"Thank goodness," Nathalie whispered.
Hedda had unstrapped the sling and Roald took over to raise it and wrap it about Astrid. Gripping both ropes tightly, she helped him carry the burden as she was lowered to the wall below. Next, he wrapped the sling about Nathalie.
"Are you afraid?" he asked with a smile. His eyes were dancing with excitement.
"Desperately," she whispered but she smiled back.
When, at last, she stood on the top of the wall and released herself, Roald swung out over the ledge, pulled the drapes and window shut and let himself down. Then, carefully, he pulled a small release rope and the entire contraption fell at their feet. Quickly he attached two ropes to the top of the ledge and they repeated the entire, breathtaking procedure. Within half an hour, they stood at the edge of the cliff below the great manor.
Roald searched for a crevice and in a few moments, he had located the one he had long ago picked. As the four slipped down into the protection of the rocks, they heard a loud, wild wail of pain and, looking up, saw Arne Bjornson silhouetted against the roof line. He was frantically hacking away at the flat roof directly above Nathalie's room with a woodsman's axe.
"Nathalie!" he screamed, "I'm coining!"
They watched his frenzied efforts as the flames began lapping from the various windows and the smoke swirled up about him. Nathalie shuddered and turned away.
"Let us go now," she begged. "Please!"
"How horrible," Hedda groaned as Roald herded them around the edge of a boulder, blocking the view of their past from them.
"Do not look back," he ordered. "What is done is done."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was past dawn before they reached the foot of the escarpment. Sticking to the edge of the forest, they made their way toward the coastline some thirty miles east. It was nearly noon before they reached a road far enough removed that Roald would trust to walk upon it. In mid-afternoon, they caught a ride on a wagon load of hay on its way into Uppsala and Nathalie and the girls were so exhausted after the unaccustomed exertions that they fell almost instantly asleep and slept until they reached their destination.
"Where shall we stay?" Astrid asked her brother. "We have no money."
"I have a friend," Roald told them.
He turned down a narrow street and the girls followed. The tall, clapboard houses huddled close together up against the sidewalk but the paint was fresh and the street not at all dreary. Part way down the block, he motioned for them to wait while he mounted the steps to an upper flat and knocked at the door. He waited several moments and when there was still no answer, he strode down the stairs and stepped up onto the porch at the front of the house. A moment after he knocked a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman appeared at the door.
"Berta?" he asked and she broke into smiles.
"Roald! How long has it been?" she beamed. "Come in!"
"Is Gunnar at home?" Roald asked.
"No, he has been at sea for a fortnight. He should be back any time," she answered.
"I wonder if we might use his rooms for the night, Berta?" he said, motioning toward the three girls huddled on the street. "We have had a hard trip."
Berta frowned as she saw the three young ladies standing there. "I don't know, Roald. What kind are they?" she asked hesitantly.
"You remember Astrid?" he asked. "My sister?"
"Oh, certainly!" she called and her voice was filled with relieved laughter. "Come in, all of you! I shall feed you and then get you a key."
The four swarmed into the warmth of the friendly flat. The fire blazed merrily and wonderful smells came from the tiny kitchen. Berta babbled as she worked, busily whipping up a feast that would have done justice to the queen.
"Much has happened," Roald told her as they sat down to the table.
"You must tell me all about it," she told him, "after the grace."
It had been so long for Roald and his sister since he had sat and bowed his head before the breaking of bread, that he was hotly embarrassed at forgetting so common a civility. He bowed his head and tightened his fists as she spoke the words and when it was done he poured out his apologies. When she had heard all of it, or rather all that he thought she could decently understand, she sat silently for a long, pain-filled moment before she spoke.
"And is he dead?" she wanted to know.
"I would imagine," he answered honestly.
"And what of the fleet?" she asked. "At least half of the boats in the harbor belong to him."
"If you could but bring me one set of master's papers signed in his own hand, I believe I might be able to solve that problem," he told her with an impish grin.
"God bless you, Roald Erlander," she said merrily. "I'll be dogged if I don't believe you!"
"That is one oath we are a bit sensitive to, madam," he told her, "but I can promise you better times. However, though I think we got away without being seen, it would be better not to stir about too much till Gunnar comes home. If anyone asks of us, you know nothing."
"I never was very bright," she said with a twinkle. "Come, I will get you the key and fire the hearth."
"The key will do nicely," he assured her. "I am still able to fire a hearth. Berta, you have been too long without a man about. The fire is the man's duty."
"Off with you," she giggled and he took the key and hurried the girls out the back door through the kitchen.
Gunnar's flat was typical of bachelor quarters anywhere-a plain, unassuming room that was functional but not particularly decorative. A few mementos here and there and curtains by courtesy of Berta, but little more. The firewood had already been laid and within minutes, Roald had a healthy blaze burning in the hearth.
There was only one bed and Hedda immediately flopped down onto it.
"Wonderful," she groaned.
"I am ready, if the rest of you are," Astrid sighed.
"You three take the bed," Roald suggested. "I will lay my bedroll here before the fire."
None wasted any time in preparations. Astrid slapped Hedda's fanny and made her get up long enough to pull back the covers. Then both of them crawled in and made room for Nathalie. They did not bother to undress.
As exhausting as the night and day had been, Nathalie was too excited to sleep. It was the beginning of a new adventure-the beginning of life itself. She lay stiffly at the very edge of the bed and closed her eyes. The minutes clicked slowly by. It was going to be a long, lonely vigil. Already, she could hear the even, deep breathing of near-slumber about her. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and saw Roald, sitting on his bedroll before the fire.
He feels it, too, she thought. It is almost like being reborn!
Quietly, so as not to awaken the two girls, she slipped from the bed and walked over to sit beside him. He looked up, surprised.
"I cannot sleep, either," she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Roald said nothing as the girl sat down next to him. It was comfortable just having her there.
Her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap pleased him. It was well to see her still a bit timorous. He pulled out his pipe and filled it, then sucked a healthy glow of fire into the bowl. With a contented sigh, he inhaled the sweetly scented smoke.
"How long will it be before we start for America?" she asked finally.
He shrugged. "Perhaps a week, maybe even a fortnight."
"That long?" she queried with concern.
"Does it matter?" he asked, looking down at her. "We are free and safe and warm."
"But I am anxious to begin my new life," she answered lamely.
He frowned. "Then begin it now, Nathalie," he said. "Here-now-tonight. America is not a life. It cannot change what you are or how you feel. That, you must do yourself."
"But how?" she blurted.
"I don't know," he told her. "It depends what you want. That, you will have to figure out yourself, little girl."
"I am not a little girl," she snapped.
"Then be a woman!" he said and his voice was deep and sure as he looked down at her.
Having said his piece, he turned back to the fire and continued to puff easily on his pipe. Nathalie sat miserably fidgeting and she was not at all sure of what she was supposed to do.
I am a woman, she told herself furiously. Just because I cannot throw myself at people! What does he think he is, anyway?
If you did throw yourself at men, Roald would be the first to be shocked, her alter-ego argued. Women were not meant to go about chasing men!
Her anger helped to calm her nervousness and before long she had worked herself up into a lather of irritation.
"I assume," she said finally, "that you are referring to the fact that I am not as free and easy as your sister or Hedda. I-" but the quick glare he shot her stopped her completely.
He shook his head hopelessly. "My sister is lost," he said sorrowfully. "They are both lost though through no fault of their own. Yet, they have learned one lesson you still have not discovered. They can admit and live with their feelings. You spend your life denying them."
"I did not deny them," she answered hotly. "Else how could they have known I needed that vile salve?"
"I stand corrected," he said. "You admit them but you are still violently ashamed of them. For any man to touch you as you are now would be to share your foolish guilt. I doubt that you could forgive a man that made you respond to him."
Nathalie's eyes flooded as she heard the sentence pronounced. There was no answering them. She sat staring into the fire seeing double and triple flames dancing about in the midst of her tears. She did not find her voice until he leaned over to knock the hot ashes from the bowl of his pipe. Then, in a panic, she realized that he would now dismiss her and crawl into the bedroll.
"I am ashamed of what I have felt," she said then and the words came out in a rush. "At least most of it. I was not ashamed with Astrid or Hedda because there was a purpose to it. That is the difference. Animals and-and old women-and drunken revelers. That is not what God meant it to be." Impatiently, she brushed away the tears and went on. "Astrid chided me because I was shocked that you slept with that-that fat redhead. Well, I was! If it is only meant to please and satiate the body then I want no part of it. I should expect more self-control of myself than that."
Getting to her knees, she braced her hands against the hearth and pushed herself to her feet. She was no more than halfway erect when he pulled her back down on the bedroll.
"You did not finish it," he said and she looked into his face and saw that he was smiling at her.
"You are laughing at me," she accused, and the grin spread across his face as he hugged her into him.
"I am just happy, Nathalie. If you will only finish the rest of it-say it all, then I will be delirious."
"And why should I?" she demanded furiously. "It is not a woman's place to chase a man! You should be telling me how you feel, not demanding me to prostrate myself before you."
"Do you want me to tell you?" he asked.
"If you mean it," she whimpered. "Oh, Roald, even if you don't mean it, tell me anyway!"
But she did not give him the chance for her arms snaked up about his neck and squeezed him tightly. Her lips lifted hungrily to his mouth and they crushed together in a shower of fiery sparks. Slowly, he lowered her to the bedroll and lay beside her, their mouths still firmly glued together. His tongue grazed across her softly closed lips and then burrowed its way into her mouth. She gasped softly and then accepted it eagerly.
"My God, how I have wanted you," he moaned as he gasped for air.
"Tell me," she pleaded, and he smiled.
"I should, I guess, for you have been telling me in so many little ways from the beginning."
"Was I that apparent?" she asked.
"Happily, yes," he told her. "You gasped when my tongue came to you. Will you gasp when I touch your breasts--? "
"Roald!" she cried, "I was not shocked! Only surprised. I had never had that-"
"Never?" he asked incredulously.
"Kisses were sort of unimportant to them, Roald. They were animals, most of them. I have never yet had a man inside of me," she whispered. "Only the dog." She shuddered at the thought.
"My God!" he said huskily and his mouth crushed hungrily into hers again as his hands began to explore the lovely ripe young contours of her body. She squirmed eagerly against him and the fever of her was quickly overcoming him.
Awkwardly, he jerked away and began fumbling with her lacing.
"No," she said suddenly and the confidence had grown in her with a suddenness that surprised them both. She drew away and got to her feet He looked up at her, perplexed as slowly, she began to disrobe.
"You asked me to prove that I had grown up," she said passionately, "and now I shall. I give you my body, Roald. I shall even disrobe it before you. And with it, my mind and my soul and all that goes with it. You are everything that I want-everything that I need; and I mean to have you one way or the other."
Roald got to his feet and stared hotly down at her as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
"My love may hurt you for a time, Nathalie," he said slowly, "for I am a big man and you are very small, but I shall never hurt you intentionally-body or feelings. We shall make quite a pair,"
Nathalie slid from her bodice and Roald paused with his shirt half off to touch the tempting fullness of her flesh.
"You are beautiful," he told her and as his hand moved across her breasts, trails of gooseflesh followed in its wake.
Then he dropped his shirt as she began unhooking her skirts; he shrugged out of his boots and slid his tights down over his thighs. She gasped at the monstrous size of his cock and then jerked off her petticoats and bloomers in a frenzy to be free of them.
"Come to me," she pleaded as he worked the tight pants off of his legs.
Kicking them free, he melted down to the floor to lay beside her and she reached hungrily to touch his throbbing organ.
"Take care," he moaned. "Your touch goes straight to my core."
Quickly she drew away, reaching instead for his neck to pull his lips into hers again. The feel of their bodies as they touched was a conflagration of gasping sensations that left them weak and panting. Yet, the need was too great-the ache too agonizing to prolong for long.
"Oh," Roald moaned. "How can I make love to you? I can't even bear your touch without going wild!"
"Mmmmm," she purred. "Then suffer, my love, for I must feel more of you this instant."
She pressed hotly up against him, and he moaned as the fire swept him to the very brink.
"I shall be of no use to you for a time," he warned.
"I would not be too sure of that," she whispered, "just being near you is sensation enough to bear."
He tried to roll away from her but she would have none of it. Eagerly, she slid up to lay on top of him, pressing hard against his throbbing cock with her loins and brushing her breasts back and forth across his chest.
"Oh God!" he moaned as a convulsion of spasms gripped his body.
She reached down and pushed his cock down between her legs. Hotly, it slid into her meat as she squeezed her legs together. It was too much. With a horrendous groan of agony, his quivering cock exploded and he spurted out his lust as she pressed tightly against him.
"Ohhh, Nathalie, I love you so," he moaned, squeezing her tightly against him as he rolled her over beside him. "You are everything I ever wanted."
"And what did you want, my love," she asked playfully.
"Mmmmmm," he murmured. "A girl to be proud of-one that could have a dozen sons, warm and loving. Yes, most of all warm and loving, I think. I do believe I have even been granted an extra dividend for I do detect a note of lustiness I had not at all counted upon."
She wriggled against him deliriously. "I like all of it," she told him, "except that you have not allowed me a single daughter."
"Have a dozen of those, too," he offered generously.
"Thank you," she snickered. "Now do stop the prattle and love me. My ache is becoming unbearable."
His hand slid down across her belly as he stretched out to nibble her ear. "I will tease you unmercifully," he whispered huskily.
"Yes! Yes!" she begged as his fingers slid down upon her puffy, furred lips and pressed them against her pounding nugget.
She writhed miserably, splaying her legs open to coax his touch deeper into her but he ignored her, continuing to taunt her flesh with cool, calculating strokes.
"Ohhhhhhh," she moaned as her loins burned with exquisite torment.
As she squirmed about, her hand touched the silky textured head of Roald's cock and she fastened hungrily upon it, petting it tenderly-stroking its wonderful heat into a throbbing fire-molding its huge contours with avid caresses.
"Ahhhfihhh!" he moaned, "what you do to me."
He gripped her wrist, pulling her away as he gasped for air. Then he turned to stare into her passion-fogged eyes.
"A truce," he whispered hoarsely. "Maybe later -maybe twenty years from now. Nathalie, let me make you happy before I take you. The pain. I don't want to spoil it for you."
She shook her head lazily and she smiled up at him.
"Take me now, Roald," she whispered. "You can love me later if need be. I want the pain of you now."
He could not take his eyes from hers as he raised up over her and guided his throbbing cock into her cove. She spread for him and her eyes were filled with a supreme happiness that he prayed would stay with her through it.
Gently, he pushed into her cunt, gasping for air as her tightness enclosed the head of him. She winced but her smile did not fade. He sunk deeper and he could feel the pounding of her heart through his hand that nestled against her breast.
Deeper he went and though the smile became strained once or twice, she winced no more nor did she cry out.
"Can you bear it?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh yes," she whispered. "Hurry! I want it all!"
Faster now, he slid into her depths and felt the end of her channel press against his leaking head.
"More," she pleaded, squirming up against him.
"I can't," he whispered. "I'm at the end."
"No!" she whimpered and sliding her legs up about his thighs, she squeezed him in.
"I will hurt you, Nathalie," he cried.
"No! It is good! Oh God, it is good," and then he felt his mound pressing heavily against her meat. She was rubbing her agonized, weeping slit against him.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" he moaned at the wild, tight feel of her churning cunt, kneading his cock with frenzied contractions.
"Fuck me, Roald," she growled. "Fuck me, now!"
Her vagina seemed to suck at his prick as he pulled away from her, and when he again sunk into her depths, waves of jolting fire swept across him.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" Nathalie sighed. "Again! Again!"
In a frenzy of lust, he siphoned out of her and sunk back into her tumultuous depths as the fire crashed all about him. Then he could stoke her no more. With a frenzy of rhythm-less stabs, he jerked his sweating body bruisingly against her.
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" she grunted, grinding wildly against him.
"Ohhhhhhhh," he moaned.
The feel of her, the hot musky smell of her passion drove him insane with need and he rubbed his sweating body bruisingly against her.
"Roald!" she screamed. "I'm going! I'm going!"
Her body arched up against him and the swell of passion that filled him burst over him as he felt the tremendous crest he had brought her to. More than his own lust, more than life itself, the thrill of her exultation bore him over the crest with her.
"Nathalie!" he cried wildly. "Nathalie! My God!"
They seemed to soar together for long, blissful moments before the taut muscles slowly began to relax and they gently fell back against the bedroll. It was several minutes before either could catch their breath. Roald savored the heavy thumping of her heart beneath her breast as she slowly turned and nestled against him.
"It is beautiful," she sighed.
"Yes," he agreed.
"It erased all of the ugliness," she confided. "It is all gone."
He turned and pulled her close.
"You are a woman now, Nathalie," he told her, then murmured. "My God, what a woman!"