Journal of a Proper Young LadybyJen24©
I recently bought an old, slightly damaged vanity box from a market stall in Portobello Road. When I got it home, I was delighted to find that it had a false bottom and that concealed within it was a smallish leatherbound notebook. Upon opening the notebook, and breathing in its exciting, musty scent, my joy at my good fortune was greatly increased. I discovered that the book was filled with the small, meticulous handwriting of a young lady. Her writings therein comprised a diary which she dated to the early part of the nineteenth century.
Reading the diary further increased my excitement and I was struck by the extraordinary nature my find. I have transcribed the initial entry for your delectation and will eagerly do so for later entries should this first meet with a favourable response. I cannot vouch for the authenticity of the diary, neither can I hazard a guess as to the exact time and place of its composition but I hope you find it as diverting and as titillating as I did, notwithstanding the lack of scholarly exertion on my part.
Wherever possible, that is where it is not confusing to do otherwise, I have stuck to the spelling and grammar of the original. Any errors are most likely my own errors of transcription and not those of the author. Enjoy and let me know if you would like to read further...
The Twentieth of July in the Year of Our Lord 181–
Since I have never yet kept a Journal, I do not know quite what I should write nor quite where I should begin. I suppose since I am the only one who shall read it then I can write whatsoever pleases me best. One uses a Journal to what end? To clarify one's Thoughts, to record one's most secret Imaginings for one's own, personal Posterity. I can write, if I so desire, of the last time I frigged myself, and the way that it felt and the fact that my Nipples are hardening as I write this and the familiar gentle, creeping warmth is now upon my Cunny. I am no Harlot and I am yet Chaste and have not known a Man, but that does not change or eschew my longings and my desires – and I believe that it is my right Hand and the middle Finger thereof which has preserved my most precious of Treasures. I am of my Nature something of a Strumpet and my Thoughts do often tend towards Lasciviousness. It takes but a little, a Sonnet of Lord Byron's or an Ode of Ovid's or of Mr Donne's to direct my Thought netherwards.
Once, to my Amusement, when I was cleaning my Father's Chamber I lighted upon a creased and folded Paper, which I took into my Possession and read. It was an Erotick Tale of Lord and Lady Such-and-such entitled 'Her Ladyship Insisted' and professed to be 'The True and Accurate Account of the Shocking Mores of the Aristocracy'. It was full of Cocks hard as Iron and Cunts wet and spread and ready. It also treated with heaving Tits and Men's Seed spilt wantonly upon them and hither and thither. The Lady was the Hostess to such an Orgy that would leave even the Court of Nero agog. One Passage struck me particularly and I often think upon it when I am frigging Myself. It concerns a debauched Game whereby Lord Such-and-such is blindfolded by his insatiable Wife and all the Ladies lie back, legs all akimbo and Drawers dispensed with and beg that he lick their several Cunts in turn and by these means alone identify she that is his Lady Wife. Should he fail in this allotted Task then he is to be deemed no Husband to her, because says the Author, a Man should know intimately his Wife's Cunt and its Taste and Texture or he has obviously not ministered to her Needs and is therefore no Husband unto her. I was intrigued by this principally because it had never occurred to me that Ladies and Gentlemen might engage in such carnal Acts as this.
The Lord or Duke – One is left with the Impression that the Author had only a faint Impression of the illustrious Rank of which he wrote – is handed from Lady to Lady who hold his Face against their Parts unmentionable and gasp with Delight as his Tongue probes their Lips and laps at their aromatick Flowers (as the Author in a Fit of Poesy calls their Cunts). They plead with him not to desist as his Beard bristles against their Arses and he nibbles and pulls at their tented Buds, but our Hero must quest on, moving from aromatick Flower to aromatick Flower like to that fastidious Fellow the Honeybee and supping on the Nectar to be had therein.
At last, after he has sampled all of the Ladies' Cunts he arrives at his Decision whereby he announces that his Lady was the last Woman he tasted and, doffing his Blindfold, he sees immediately that he was Right. His Guerdon is to fuck her in any way of his choosing and he elects to take her from Behind. She obliges by raising her naked Arse in the Air and while she is upon her Hands and Knees he furiously fucks her.
In spite of the obvious and breathy Deficiency in the Writing, I found my own Cunt to be moist and my Breathing heavy after my reading of this singular Competition. I replaced the Paper beneath my Father's Bed and hastened back into my own Chamber. I was inspired to examine my own 'aromatick Flower' in order to compare it to the poetickal Descriptions of our ardent Author and also to satisfy myself as to its fragrant – or 'odoriferous' as the Author at one point declares the Cunt of one of the Ladies in a frenzy of his Fancy – Quality and to try whether its Nectar was as sweet as that descried by the Lord in the Story.
I was flushed and worked up like to a Bacchanal, surfeited on Eroticks. I propped up my Mirror against a pile of my Books and was for a Moment struck by my own Ingenuity. It was, however, but a Moment as I thought again of the Athletick Tongue of Lord Such-and-such and the Ecstasies his Ministrations induced in the Ladies. I hastily removed my Skirts and my Chemise together with my Undergarments and crouched naked before the Mirror. I was flushed and in such a frenzied State of Arousal that I scarcely knew who or where I was. I began to Cup my Tits and Tug at my Teats, the way that Lady Such-and-such had done at the Commencement of the Story as she prepared to rub herself off. I felt my Nipples harden under the Influence of my Attentions.
It was then, naked with my Hands at my Breasts that I started at a Noise from whence I could not determine. I was suddenly afrighted that I would be discovered in my naughty Enterprise and that my Reputation heretofore Inviolate would sustain such a Stain or a Blot upon it such as could not or would not be expunged, and I was suddenly wretched and ashamed. I rushed to my feet and to the door to my Chamber and held myself against it for a short Time. I waited a while and found no other Sound to be forthcoming. I stood in my Birthday Suit and still feeling Randy, the Fear and the Shame had done little but to further excite me and I wanted more than Ever to lark and to climax. I hastily found the wooden Wedge I use to stop the Door and pushed it hard beneath it, the Door by good Fortune opened inward. Having thus secured myself from the possibility of Discovery I addressed myself to the Business in hand, which is to say the Business of my Hand.
I returned to the Mirror, kneeling again before it, like a concupiscent supplicant, and breathed deeply, feeling as if my Belly were all inflamed. Again I pulled on my Paps and felt the Itch in my Cunny grow beyond Measure. I dragged my Hands down across my Body, across the Curve of my Tummy and to my matted Fur which I stroked and gently intwined in my Fingers, my Breath quickening as I did so at the Thought of my own Wickedness. I angled the Mirror slightly and then spread my Legs apart and there before me was my own Belle Chose.
I pulled its lips apart and contemplated it. I was overcome with a sense of piteous and profound Bathos. My beautiful Thing was not especially beautiful, I thought quite dispassionately, but was rather pink and puffy and ungainly and seemed a glutton gorged upon the very thought of itself and its Sexuality. My Nakedness and the feel of the cool Air upon it was nonetheless exciting and the Image of Lord Such-and-such's face held against the Pudenda of the manifold Ladies at the Orgy of which I had lately read was enough to rekindle my Urge to make myself a Frigstress.
I traced my Slit with one of my Fingers, feeling how wet and warm I was down there. I remembered how the Author of the 'True and Accurate Account' had recounted the Ladies' most especial pleasure at the Lord's attention to their 'tented Buds'. By the Mercy of the Fates, and because our Esteemed Author proved himself to be something of a pretty Anatomist, I knew this to be at the Apex of my Cunt. I was most anxious to sample for myself the gratification that could be afforded by its stimulation.
I scrutinised myself more closely in the Mirror, pulling myself wider open as I did so. Atop the folds of pink, puffy Skin I thought I saw it and, holding my Cunt open with two fingers of one hand, began to massage it with the other. It felt very, very good and I almost forgot to breathe as I rubbed slowly around it. I observed a hard little Nub emerging from the Tent. I lay a Finger directly upon it and it was so Sensitive to my Touch that I gasped and drew away. I sat trembling before the Mirror awhile, before resolving again to assay it.
This time I moistened my Finger in my slippery 'Cyprian Cave' – to borrow the highly ornamental Term from the Author of the Story – and then touched it again. Again I gasped and again was forced to pull away. My Finger was yet too Abrasive for my Purpose. I determinedly wet my thumb on my Cunt and then brought it up to my Nose and inhaled my own Aroma. My Pas-Belle-Mais-Rose-et-Gonflé-et-Étrange-Chose was, I noted, neither aromatick nor odoriferous but smelt decidedly unexotick and somewhat acrid. I put my Thumb into my Mouth to sample my 'Sweet Nectar' and discovered that it tasted as it smelt, and I was puzzled as to Lord Such-and-such's insatiable Appetite for it. Either, I decided, the Ladies from whom he supped were more exquisitely Flavoursome than I or the Lord had an outlandish Taste.
I was too lusty to give much time to this consideration, however, and I rolled my Tongue around my Thumb and then put it to its Proper use, namely as the Minister to my newly-found Clitoris. This time I made an Effort not to jerk away and held my Thumb upon my Nub as I arched my middle Finger up and into my hot, damp hole. I began to rub myself slowly and felt myself twitch uncontrollably. My Self-Comfort became ever more urgent and I violently rotated my Thumb, pulling my Clitoris hither and thither as I flexed and unflexed my middle Finger inside my Cunny. I closed my eyes and rocked my Hips backward and forward, dragging my entire Crutch across my Hand, my Thumb still firm upon my Bud as if fixed there. I was transported, given entirely to the Sensations generated by my ardent frigging.
I moved my left Hand to my Tit and pinched hard on my Nipple as I sat astride my right Hand and rode it hard. My Cunt was becoming ever more slippery and wet and I could feel some great sensation, my first Orgasm, drawing ever nearer. The Itch was more pronounced than ever I had felt it and I hungered after Satisfaction and Deliverance. I renewed my Efforts, bucking and rubbing and pinching and pulling with great abandon until at last I stood upon the Brink of the Precipice. Slowly, luxuriantly I toppled from it and I suppose I can best describe the Feeling as Relief upon Relief like the Tide against the shore, or like descending into one of the curative hot Springs at Bath. My Climax built again and was again relieved, and I came to myself, shivering and gasping.
Feeling a little dazed, I dressed myself and replaced Mirror and Books, before unblocking the Door and walking unsteadily down the stairs to be discovered reading innocently in the Library some Hours afterward. This was not the first Time I had frigged myself, but it was the best I had hitherto managed. And now, having awaked my Lust once more, I shall endeavour to recreate it.