Little House Lewd: Chapter 19

By the time Mr. Brewster came back for the evening chores she was sitting as still as possible, shaking, repeating poems to herself to keep her mind off the terrible arousal. He paid her no mind, going about the business of feeding and watering the animals for the night before he finally acknowledged her.

Laura looked up at him, eyes half lidded in her flushed face; she almost looked as if she didn’t recognize him. He squatted down and reached under her skirts, finding her thighs soaking wet, and the little nub poking through the opening hard and hot. As soon as his fingers brushed it the little bit of sense left in her eyes vanished and her lips parted, her chest heaved, hips jerking to get another touch. Very lightly he stroked circles around it so slowly they could not bring her off. If her hips bucked he pulled his hand back until she stopped moving before rubbing again, until she was shaking with the effort to keep herself still.

Her head dropped backwards against the wall mindlessly moaning. She was so dizzy, so hot, so overcome that the entire world had narrowed to just that one tiny piece of her body and his fingers lightly rubbing it. Without a scrap of shame she wanted nothing more than to beg him to do whatever he wanted if he would just finish her off for once. No part of her cared anymore what he wanted or took from her if only the torment ended.

“I thought I’d bring you inside for supper, but you look more like an animal in heat than a civilized woman, and we don’t keep animals in heat in the house,” Mr. Brewster commented with a particularly sharp flick over her nub to draw a gasp out of her. “And you’re a sopping mess.”

Somewhere in her brain she knew that there was some insult to what he had said, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. Mewing whines escaped her against her control as all she could think about was having his fingers back on her clit even if it were only to torment her more. It was better than the absent throbbing.

When he moved her skirts out of the way and unbuckled the belt the cool air of the barn steamed. He reached down again, and she shrieked in pleasure to feel his fingers stroke the whole length from back to front, ending with a swirl around her clit before tracing the path back along her folds. A sharp demanding ache shot up as her insides clenched desperately on nothing. The finger swirled around her entrance, and she made a mindless noise thinking it would go in, but it moved further back and circled her back hole. Shockingly, even this felt immeasurably delicious.

“Want some relief?” he questioned.

“Yes!” she sobbed, hardly able to get even that little syllable out.

That finger circled her rear hole again and pressed in a little, her wetness making everything slippery. The tip of his finger probed inward, pulling back and plunging in just up to the first knuckle as he gauged her reactions.

The finger hurt, but that was overshadowed by the relief to have something, anything at all, inside her anywhere. More liquid was pouring out of her, and she could feel it dripping off her thighs. Slowly, he worked his finger deeper and deeper until it was buried all the way in and then began to steadily pump it in and out.

Before long she was shuddering, so close to cumming she suddenly stopped making any noise at all. Just as her muscles began to clamp down with release the stimulation was ripped out of her. Laura screamed. She couldn’t stop. The sudden emptiness scrapped at her raw sensitive nerves and ripped the pleasure she was so close to having away at the last possible moment.

She could not stop her tears or shaking. For so long she had been able to hold on, but her dignity was in pieces inside her now, broken so thoroughly she couldn’t gather the energy to be ashamed. She wanted absolutely nothing more than for him to reach back under her skirts, but then the depths of her misery washed over her, and she wanted to go home. If she thought there was any chance of surviving she would have gladly packed her bag and began walking home at that very moment.

Mr. Brewster stood up, took down the lantern, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Laura nearly shouted, “Aren’t you going to unshackle me?”

He didn’t look back at her as he slowly hobbled across the barn on his aching feet. “I told you already, we don’t keep animals in heat in the house.”

“You can’t just leave me like this!” She did shout this time. She was angry to think that he would stoop even lower to leave her hungry and shut up with the animals on top of the torment. “I am a human person, and I deserve more respect than this!” She was screaming, glaring at his back as he walked away, straining against the cuffs.

“Sure sound like a wild animal to me,” he replied from the door. “We’ll see if you’re ready to be a person again in the morning.”

And Laura was left alone on the hay in the dark.

For a long time she was so angry she could see her blood pulsing red against the blackness. She was still aroused, and the throbbing only made her angrier until eventually the need began to overtake the anger. With each furious breath the rolled edge of the corset rubbed the underside of her nipples.

Hours went by as she sat there in the dark. The anger faded as her brain seemed to melt into the warm waves desperately pulsing and dripping between her legs.
It seemed she had dozed off, as suddenly a lantern was blinding her. She blinked sleepily, squinting.

“Disgusting.”

A woman’s low vitriolic voice came from behind the light.

Laura made a sound that was meant to be a question, but she wasn’t able to formulate words.

Cold fingers closed on one of her stiff nipples like a vice, twisting cruelly as if trying to twist it off. Even the pain of the action was bliss compared to the empty desire, bringing a deep moan out of her as her chest arched.

The woman’s voice was seething with rage, a hateful tirade filling the empty space as the fingers yanked. Laura yelped, then yelped again when a hard slap exploded against her cheek. Back and forth the hand impacted against her face harder and harder. Mrs. Brewster was beating her and screaming insults, calling her horrid names.

Footsteps came quickly crunching from outside and Mr. Brewster burst through the door.

“Liv!” he bellowed, the barn door slamming behind him in the wind. “Go put that knife back in the kitchen!”

Only when Mrs. Brewster turned to look at her husband did Laura see in the light of his lantern a glint off the edge of the kitchen knife that had been held at her side.

“If I can’t go home or have my husband to myself one way then I can another,” Mrs. Brewster said, low and menacing. Her shaking grip on the handle tightened.

Mr. Brewster stood stock still in the doorway, cold air blowing past him and into the barn. “Liv, you need to go put that back in the kitchen,” he said calmly and quietly, as if speaking to a rabid animal.

She turned and faced him straight on, her back to Laura now.

“Will you send this harlot home, or do I need to kill her and any other tramp you drag into my house with this pathetic excuse of having a teacher?” she demanded.

“We’re all going to catch our deaths of cold out here. Put the knife down, and go back to bed. I’ve got you and Johnny to support and nothing in the world but this claim. I’m trapped out here just as much as you are. I’d be glad to go back east if we could, but you know damn well we can’t with what you did to Maisy. You kill my daughter and then have the audacity to begrudge me the company of women who aren’t out of their minds,” he said, his tone angry but low. “Put that knife down, go back in the house, and act like you have some sense.”

“I WON’T STAY IN THIS HOUSE SO LONG AS YOU KEEP WHORES IN IT!” she bellowed back.

“FINE!” he bellowed back. “Put the fucking knife down and I’ll take you straight to Paul’s house. You can stay there with Johnny till the school term’s over.”

Mrs. Brewster stood very still for several seconds as if giving considerable thought to her situation and the proposition. Then, with no care for where it ended up, she threw the knife down and marched past him out the door.

Laura was so frightened that she couldn’t say a word. She sat in the hay shivering as much from the cold as fear.

Mr. Brewster did not speak to her. He seemed to not even know she was there.

He quickly closed up the barn, hitched a horse to a small sled, and was gone before Laura could get her voice back.

As soon as he was gone she took one shaky breath, and bawled.