Little House Lewd: Chapter 13

Sunday afternoon as they were flying over the sunny snow in the cutter, Almanzo said, “It chirks you up to go home over Sunday. I’ve got an idea it’s pretty tough staying at Brewster’s.”

Laura sighed. “It is certainly a trial. This is the first school I’ve had so far from home, and in winter on top of that. I do appreciate your driving so far, Mr. Wilder, but I must be honest with you that I am only going with you to get home. I don’t know that you have any intentions by doing this, of course, but I can’t take so much from you under any uncertain connotations. My family need me too much for me to entertain any notions of courting anyone. Now that you know, I will understand completely if you wish to save yourself these long cold drives.”

She felt horrible for saying it, but she knew it had to be done. It would be using him to do anything else.

“Is that so?” he said more as a statement than a question, and she was relieved that he did not sounds upset. “Putting family obligations first is admirable.”

It was polite of him to say so. She wanted to say something to cushion her harsh declaration, but the Brewster’s house was quickly coming up.

“Thank you,” she said, readying herself to get out of the cutter. The horses were so warm from trotting that they must not stand a moment longer than necessary in the cold. She got out quickly so as to not let cold air into the warm buffalo robes. “Good bye, Mr. Wilder.”

He waved to her as the horses quickly pulled away. She watched him go, comforting herself that even if he did not come for her again she had a clear conscious.

Before going in she steadied herself. Six weeks was not that long. She must endure the humiliation of the chastity belt and Mr. Brewster’s touching her as he pleased, but it was a trial she could withstand. It was difficult, but she had done difficult things before and been all the better for it.

You can do hard things, she thought to herself before going inside.

Things had not changed much. There was evidence that Mrs. Brewster had put an effort into the housework while Laura was gone, but she still sat in her rocking chair ignoring everything around her.

Laura did not speak to her. She went quietly to the bedroom to put away her satchel and get her apron out to start supper.

“Got a new belt for you to wear,” Mr. Brewster said from the doorway.

For a moment she froze, but forced herself to turn and warily face him. “Oh?”

The new device was not much different than the first, but the front had an opening right where her button was. Inside were smooth rounded teeth that circled that opening and fit against her in such a way that held back all the flesh around her little protrusion, forcing it to almost stick out.

“Now you’ll be able to use the restroom for the most part without having to come to me for the key,” he said.

While she did agree that it was an improvement in that regard, she knew in other ways it was going to be much more difficult. And she was correct. The exposure of an area that had always been warmly tucked away was alien in a way far more uncomfortable that the nub of the previous belt had been. Being cold made the spot more sensitive and distracting, and having it so exposed caused her own underclothing to brush against it every time she moved. Even walking created a moving pressure around it that was almost as if being stroked maddeningly near but not on the spot.

Just the movements made when getting supper ready were enough that by the time she sat to eat she was feverishly warm. She found herself glad that no one spoke as she could not think straight enough to form a full sentence.

She caught Mr. Brewster looking at her once, and he remarked, “Something wrong with your seat?”

Turning a bright red she realized she had been squirming in her chair in an unconscious bid to get more stimulation where the tiny protrusion pressed between the jaws of the belt.

“N-n-n-n-no,” she stammered, keeping her eyes firmly focused on her food and forcing herself to stay still.

By focusing very hard she was able to distract herself enough to get through the meal and chores, and even managed to study until it was time for bed. She was feeling confident that she could best this new turn of events until she went to dry herself from a trip to the latrine and was overcome with pleasure at the direct stimulation. She rubbed the drying cloth over it several times before she realized what she was doing and with a tremendous effort stopped.

It throbbed. She could see in the candlelight how engorged it was, swollen now so that the opening was more of a ring pressing around it than a space. It twitched as she looked, bobbing up and down a tiny bit. Like an observer in her own body, alone in the outhouse, she watched one cold finger just barely touch it. Her whole body shuddered.

Through force of will alone she pulled her hand back and resolutely dropped her skirts.

What was she doing? She knew better than to touch herself, and was ashamed that she had done it, embarrassed that she wanted so badly to rub that demanding spot.

Laura took several long frigid breaths. She counted to ten, she recited a poem, she thought hard about how it was letting Mr. Brewster win if she succumbed. When she was finally calmed down enough, she went in and went to bed where Mr. Brewster was already waiting.

He lay behind her with his arms around her sides and fingers tugging and rolling at her chest. She did her best to ignore it, but within only a minute or two her brain was clouded. There were no words she could bring to mind or any will to withstand the teasing. Without thinking, her own hands reached between her legs.

“Can’t have that,” Mr. Brewster declared, grabbing her wrists as she struggled to reach. “A good chaste girl like you doesn’t really want to do something like that, now do you? Course not, you just need a little help to stay on the straight and narrow.”

He tied her wrists behind her, and while he resumed his torment of her chest she turned her face into the pillow and tried desperately not to scream or cry or moan. Absently she felt his length humping against her bound hands, using her  to get himself the relief that he knew she was becoming desperate to have.

Incoherently she begged him to stop.

His hands stopped. He let go of her. She thought for a brief moment that he must be done, but instead he rolled her onto her back and shoved her nightgown up over her breasts. He settled himself on her stomach, his long legs trailing down her sides, his long organ resting on her sternum. This confused her so much that her mental fog cleared a bit.

She was just about to ask him what he was doing when he crushed her breasts around his length painfully, and began to thrust in and out of the nonexistent space.

The act was painful, but the pain cleared her mind more. She was able to think again. With her eyes screwed tightly closed in discomfort she mentally recited psalms to distract herself.

This is only another hard thing to endure, she reminded herself.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded.

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him dumbfounded. She didn’t understand what he could want with her mouth open but absolutely did not want to do it.

When he saw she wasn’t obeying, he grabbed tight hold of both her tips and twisted hard, pulling up as if he would pull them off. Laura’s mouth opened in a screech of shocked pain that was cut off almost immediately as he scooted up her body and shoved inches of his hard length into the opening. She screamed, but the sound had nowhere to go. Her jaw was wrenched open as far as it would go just to accommodate the sheer girth of him.

Mr. Brewster gripped the back of her head in one hand and forced her head back and forth over his organ, his other hand still manipulating her nipple. The twisting and pulling sent awful shocks of agonizing pleasure straight to her bared sex even as she fought to get a whisper of air around the stout cock driving in and out. She was on the verge of passing out when he sank himself all the way down her throat and entirely cut off her air.

It felt as though boiling hot liquid were pouring directly into her stomach as she suffocated. Weakly she writhed, trying to throw him off  her chest, but it was no good. She was going to die there under him in a moment, his pulsing member nearly dislocating her jaw as it smothered her.

Then, it was gone. She turned her head and coughed, gasped, wheezed. Her vision was tunneled but there was air in her lungs and fingers rubbed furiously against her own organ and tugged at her chest. She was going to go mad any second, she was sure. She was freezing and on fire and there were waves spreading from her clit to her toes and the top of her head. Something within her felt as if it were racing in time to the fingers. In just another few seconds it would reach her.

The stimulation ceased. All the fingers withdrew at once right as the overwhelming need was about to be satisfied. Her hips thrust up desperately searching for anything but found only the cold air. Her organ and nipples burned to be touched even one little bit more.

Overwrought, Laura screamed mindlessly until she was sobbing. Mr. Brewster righted her nightgown and rolled her over to face the wall, getting comfortable in the bed and dropping off to sleep to the sound of her misery. It felt like a very long time before she cried herself to unconsciousness.