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Sherlock Holmes and the case of The Virgin Bride	By : Belinda-LaPage Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Het Views: 3420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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At my request, Palmerston fetched Victoria’s hairbrush from her dressing room. Wanting to explore and enjoy her svelte body outside the confines of the bed, I drew her down to the bear-skin laid before the hearth where she knelt in front of me; a slim hourglass silhouette with her naked bottom perched on her heels.
Working from the tips, I untied the glossy blonde rope of her plait and began to brush it out, savouring the silky texture of her hair and including more than a little sensual touching of her hips, waist, and neck as I drew the locks into the brush with my free hand.
It was so long and gorgeous; even though it had started almost free of tangles, still it took five minutes or more of my care before I had it falling down her back in a single silken cascade. Victoria was not impatient though; she simply knelt there and accepted my unpractised but sensual grooming, encouraging me with barely audible gasps and broken breaths with each brief skin-on-skin contact, emboldening me to ever more loving touches as I stroked my fingers down the smooth curve of her flank.
Gathering her hair with one hand at the nape of her neck, I used it to guide her head as I leaned forward and kissed first along the line of one shoulder and then the other. I worked up the side of her neck, gently plucking her skin between my lips until I reached her ear, where I nibbled gently at the lobe and let her hear the depth of my passion in my breath.
“I have wanted you since the moment I stepped off the carriage,” I whispered, taking a risk that I thought warranted given her obvious enthusiasm for this arrangement.
She turned her face partly towards me – away from Holmes and Palmerston seated across the room – and acknowledged my admission with a mysterious smile which might just mean acceptance of my feelings, or perhaps reciprocation. I hoped the latter, but the truth is that I would never know.
I took the opportunity of her turning towards me to kiss the corner of her mouth. Once, twice, and then she turned further and met my lips with her own; kissing me softly, allowing me to sample her sweet youth without the full, passionate engagement of tongues. Still holding her hair, I drew her back towards me until I was supporting her weight behind her neck. With my free hand I cupped a small, pert breast; just barely enough to fill the palm of my hand and so firm and shapely as to be almost weightless. Testing its pliant softness between my fingers brought me to raptures; they were truly perfect in every respect and so wonderfully small that I imagine they will probably retain their perfection even as she ages.
Cradling her body in my lap, we kissed more openly; her searching lips pulling at mine, punctuated by breathless gasps as I made tiny strokes up the underside of her breast towards the hard button of her nipple. Unsure of her experience with kissing, I progressed slowly so as not to alarm her, first touching my tongue to her lip and then when she responded in turn I followed back into her mouth; searching, teasing and tasting as we stretched the boundaries of our growing passion.
If the atrocity that I witnessed earlier was the limit of her sexual experience, then I assumed even with a fortnight of wedlock, she still had not taken the opportunity to explore a man’s body. Having removed only my shoes, jacket and tie, I wanted to let her undress me. My purpose was twofold; to help her allay any very understandable fears and to prolong this wonderful, sensuous foreplay before we progressed to intercourse.
Guiding her gently once again, I helped her to her feet and released the first button on my shirt before pressing her hands to the next one, silently showing her what I wanted. Her trembling fingers fumbled open the remaining buttons and when the last one was released she placed both palms flat against my chest, feeling the contours of my muscles and the texture of the hair and skin. I copied the action on her chest, cupping her small breasts and relishing the tickle of her nipples against my palms. Victoria smiled up at me, acknowledging the symmetry of the act – although I judged that I was receiving easily the better half of the bargain.
She slid her hands up and over my shoulders, taking my shirt along in order to remove it. She allowed it to drop down my arms and a brief look of surprise crossed her face when it caught at my wrists because she had not removed my cufflinks. I was about to assist by unclasping them behind my back, but with another of those enigmatic, Mona Lisa smiles, she quickly grabbed my shirt at both wrists – effectively disabling my hands – and then stood on her toes to kiss my lips; leaning close and bushing the points of her hard nipples through my chest hair.
There was no tentative touching of mouths this time; she pressed her open lips to mine and hungrily sought out my tongue, enticing me back into her mouth and gently nibbling at me with her teeth. When I returned the gesture, she moaned with quiet desperation and pressed her breasts into my chest, releasing my shirt to explore the muscles of my back with searching, desperate fingers.
Still bound at the wrists, I was unable to reciprocate, although I could reach just far enough to cup her tiny buttocks; each one the perfect size to fit into one open hand. I gave her a long, firm squeeze and she responded by clenching muscles that spoke of long miles on horseback, bringing to mind an entrancing fantasy of Victoria naked upon her chestnut stallion, posting the trot with indescribably erotic, rhythmic thrusts of her blonde sex into the pommel of her saddle.
Victoria’s hands fumbled at my belt while we kissed, impatience beginning to show in her ragged breathing and trembling fingers. Reluctantly releasing her bottom, I quickly slipped out of my shirt and used my now free hands to trace the sensuous curves of her body from bottom to top. Burying my fingers in her silken hair, I gently cupped her head from behind to soothe her, trying to slow her passion and desperation as we kissed.
She finally unbuttoned my trousers and allowed them to drop to the floor and then immediately leaned away from the kiss to admire her work. I stepped out of my trouser legs and was vaguely embarrassed by my socks – I think a man looks somewhat ridiculous in drawers, socks and garters – but it was too late and too awkward to do anything about it. I doubt that Victoria even noticed, she was staring with rapt attention at the tented front of my drawers, now damp with a spreading stain that betrayed the heightened degree of my arousal.
Looking at me with nervous apprehension, I could tell she was asking permission to go further, unsure whether this degree of undressing was within the bounds of behaviour for a respectable woman. With the barest nod of encouragement from me, she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband and with one last nervous look into my eyes, she licked her lips and peeked inside.
Victoria gasped; with delight it seemed, rather than horror. I knew from earlier that I am considerably longer and thicker than Palmerston, and it was logical that Victoria would have no other point of comparison. She looked back up at me with sparkling eyes and a greedy smile.
“It seems, Doctor,” she whispered, “that you and Watson share more in common than just a name.” Which is lovely flattery that any man would like to hear, although I recalled the tight embrace of her vagina from before with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. I knew that her sex would be the most exquisitely tight sheath … but only if I could push my cock past her tiny entrance.
She eased the laces, reached inside and closed her small hand around my shaft, feeling its girth and giving me a firm squeeze, trying to make her finger and thumb touch. Her grip was soft and tight and utterly sublime. My cock jerked in her hand, surprising a gasp from her lips as she flinched back, pulling the sheath of skin up my shaft a few inches.
“Oh my!” she whispered in awe, pulling my waistband open further for a better look. Maintaining her tight grip, she stroked back down to the base of my cock and then to my great delight, she repeated the move, staring in wide-eyed wonder as the skin around my groin and testicles stretched and contracted while the rest flowed with liquid ease over the hard bulges and veins beneath her hand.
“Is that what it does inside me?” she asked in a mixture of curiosity and naked desire.
“No,” I told her. “It doesn’t need to. When you are ready, you will secrete a natural lubrication that makes it slide.” I touched my finger to her sex – I was surprised that she didn’t flinch – and stroked through the wet warmth of her slit. “See?” I massaged a nipple with her glistening juices, delighting as the hard nub slipped and danced beneath my teasing fingers.
“I think I’m ready already,” she whispered nervously, casting her eyes up at me again while she continued to slowly masturbate my cock.
I slipped out of my drawers and then we were both naked (apart from my blasted socks and garters), standing close with Victoria’s nipples brushing my chest hair and my cock leaving shiny trails of pre-cum across her stomach as she continued to stroke and squeeze me with rapidly developing expertise. Cupping her bottom again in my hands, I pressed our bodies together and kissed, slow and deep and less frenzied now that she held her prize in her hand.
Victoria voiced a small yelp of surprise as I lifted her off the bear-skin and then she released my cock to wrap her arms and legs around me, gripping my hips and locking her heels behind my backside. She wriggled her hips to position her open slit against my shaft, gasping as her exposed clitoris ground against my hardness.
With slow, synchronised movements, I lifted and lowered her bottom while she rocked her hips into me, her slick labia parted and nestled around the sensitive underside of my cock, sliding deliciously up and down and coating my full length with the sweet nectar of her sex. Victoria was unstoppable; even when I held her in place at the base of my cock, she kept slowly pumping and rolling her hips, erotically grinding her clitoris against my shaft as the soft lips of her opening kissed wetly against my balls.
Victoria tipped her head back and voiced a low moan. I could feel the tips of her long, swaying hair play over my hands on her bottom, and I realised that I could not last much longer with this erotic, blonde vision pleasuring herself on me. Foreplay was necessarily at an end.
I lifted her once again until her open sex was positioned over the tip of my cock. Victoria was still rhythmically pumping her hips into me, so rather than freeing a hand to guide myself into her, I positioned her so that she might catch my cock-head in her entrance, which – with a surprised gasp – eventually she did. Her eyes shot open and she stopped kissing; she stared at me with a mixture of desire and apprehension, with my knob seated a inch inside her opening, she knew that in a few short moments she would feel a man inside her for the very first time.
Remembering my stated purpose for this exercise, I needed to demonstrate lovemaking techniques that Palmerston could replicate and I realised that our current standing position would end in disaster if left in his bumbling hands. Their predicament was not without some irony; although a virgin, Victoria was highly sexual and extremely erotic; if Palmerston had simply allowed her to control their coitus then surely Holmes and I would not be here.
Not without some difficulty, I lowered to one knee, allowing Victoria to stand without disengaging from my cock. Then, while she held me around the chest, I lowered myself back into the soft splendour of the bear-skin with Victoria’s lithe, girlish body poised above me. She swept her hair around one shoulder, allowing it to fall to the floor beside my head; a silver backdrop that reflected the firelight back onto her face, softening the shadows and making her excited eyes sparkle with a feral light.
“I think that you have our positions reversed, Doctor,” she smiled down at me.
“You be the rider, my dear,” I whispered. “Your mount does not know the trail, nor how fast you wish to travel.”
Clearly enamoured by another riding metaphor, Victoria sat up straight in the saddle and perched on my thighs; my cock head still nestled in her wet entrance and her hands braced on my chest. Rising to her knees and easing slowly forwards, she pushed down onto my cock-head, stretching, slipping me fractionally deeper, and then rocked back onto my thighs with a sigh.
“I don’t think it will fit,” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.
“It will,” I replied softly, desperately hoping that I was right. “Just keep pushing. Stop when it hurts and then try again.”
She did as I asked; hands on my chest, her arms bearing her slender body while with eyes shut, she gently rode the first inch of my cock, stopping on each downstroke and bearing down on the ridge where the softness of my cock-head thickens and hardens into the shaft. Leaning over me with her arms propped close, they pushed her lovely breasts together in a heavenly display that I strained upwards to kiss while the juices from her soaking entrance flowed down my manhood to coat my balls.
Pressing and releasing, softly moaning and gasping, Victoria gradually worked another half an inch into the constricting sheath of her sex, her breasts now glowing with a thin sheen of perspiration from her efforts. She now had me deep enough that she no longer had to hold herself off me and she straightened her body upright, straddling my hips with my thick cock trapped two inches inside the furnace of her womanhood. With her head laid back and cords standing out on her neck, she slowly pumped her hips in a circular motion, stirring me inside her and stretching her opening while her hair tickled my balls and the tops of my thighs.
I could feel the iron clamp of her sex begin to loosen as she twisted herself onto the thickest and most sensitive part of my cock, about two inches from the tip. And then with a throaty and ululating, but utterly feminine cry, she sank inexorably onto my shaft; now fully stretched and soaking wet, her steaming sex enveloped my cock inch by wonderful inch; her inner muscles quivering, fluttering nervously as they parted, welcoming the first visitor into their lonely paradise.
Victoria fed me all the way into her slick tunnel until, with a series of whooping gasps, she touched me down firmly against her cervix, causing her to ease back up to relieve the pressure.
“You’re inside me,” she breathed, looking down at me with a smile filled with girlish glee.
“How does it feel?” I asked.
“Mother says it is painful. Unpleasant,” she said.
“And what do you say?” From the look on her face, it didn’t seem unpleasant.
“I once rode Watson bareback, with a just a bridle and my heels dug into his flanks,” she said. “We galloped with my hair loose and my skirts billowing out behind us. It was the most wonderful and exciting thing I have ever felt.” She smoothed her palms over my chest hair, consuming me with her eyes. “Until now.”
She squeezed me experimentally with her virgin muscles, the heat and pressure of her sex sent shivers of ecstasy through me, causing my breath to catch and my eyes to roll back as for a moment I thought she would tip me over the edge.
“Are you unwell, Doctor?” she whispered with concern, leaning over me and changing the angle of my cock inside her with delightful friction.
“I am well,” I confirmed, a little breathlessly. “Just try not to do that again until you are ready to finish.”
“This?” She asked, with a mischievous grin; giving a brief squeeze, not so long or deep as before.
“Yes, that,” I smiled, straining my balls to retain control and realising I was completely at her mercy. It was not a predicament that I regretted at all; to have such a beautiful woman using me so, discovering her sexuality with passion and wonder as each new sensation is revealed.
“Doctor Watson?” she breathed, leaning closer still to my ear. “I fear I don’t know what to do next.”
“Now you move,” I said softy, cupping her bottom again and guiding her up and then back down on my cock. “Slowly at first, and then faster when you feel the need.”
She began to move again without my guidance, pumping my cock into her silken sheath, building up a slow rhythm and expelling a soft gasp in my ear as my cock-head probed her cervix with each thrust. With her nipples brushing my chest, she kissed me again, seeking out my tongue while she moved just her hips, fucking me with that erotically sensual circular motion that I had never before experienced. With each pump of her hips, the base of my shaft brushed against the hard nub of her clitoris; and each time she released a soft cry of passion into our kiss.
Raising the tempo, she pulled away from my lips, sucking in air as she drove more firmly onto my cock, pushing my knob harder and harder against her cervix until she had me all the way inside and the soft, swollen lips of her sex were pressed up against my pubic bone, gliding wetly in the slick juices that had run down my cock and pooled there.
As she gasped and cried out, pumping faster and faster, so I began to lose my own measure of control. There is nothing that strikes me as more erotic than a sexual woman in the throes of an orgasm, and Victoria’s mounting climax was surely going to bring me to my own. I only hoped for her sake that she got there before me.
Closing my hands around her trim waist, I thrust upwards to meet her, driving into her furnace depths and using the thick base of my cock to pleasure her clitoris and she ground into me and rubbed my cock-head against her cervix with whimpering desperation. Harder and faster she pounded down, losing control of her breathing with each rising cry of passion.
“Oh, yes,” she cried, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s happening again.” Three more pumps and she drove down hard one last time, writhing and twisting her hips. “Oh, dear Lord,” she gasped through her teeth in a tiny voice, then her legs convulsed and she held me tight in her arms as the orgasm swept her away.
Those wonderful muscles of her womanhood gripped me again inside her silky depths and squeezed. I was so close to the edge, it was all I needed. I felt a tickle of blissful sensation in my balls as they gathered, building pressure up and up, and then they released with a rush and I was pumping, jetting my seed inside her, bucking into her tender lips to get deeper. Victoria cried out again with the new feeling of hot cum pouring deep into her sex, filling her more completely than my cock alone, and then spilling thickly from her opening to coat the junction of our coupling. Arching back again as her orgasm slowly retreated, she ground her cervix against my softening knob, squeezing me with her secret muscles, and milking the last of my seed into her yearning core.
When the last of her spasms were finished, she lay forwards and rested her cheek on my chest, leaving my cock to soften inside her, occasionally squeezing it, perhaps in the vain hope that it would harden again.
“Well, Doctor,” she whispered, softly kissing my chest. “I believe I am cured.”
“My dear,” I replied in an equally hushed tone intended just for her. “I don’t believe you were every truly ailed.”

Epilogue
Palmerston had secured a private compartment for Holmes and me on the return train to London.
“Well, Watson, an unusual case,” he smiled at me around his pipe. “Though not one that should probably ever see print in your infernal memoirs.”
“Very true, Holmes,” I smiled ruefully. “Though I may still write it up for my own records.” I considered the case silently for half a minute, enjoying the anticipation of reliving the experience in writing. “It was an interesting diversion for a physician,” I mused. “I wonder whether a professional might make a career from such cases?”
“Hardly, my dear man,” Holmes laughed. “Lady luck was with you on this occasion, but you could scarcely hope to achieve those results with every client.”
“I don’t see what you mean, Holmes?” I said, slightly taken aback. “Did I not achieve exactly what I set out to do.”
“Indeed!” He replied, laughing. “Indeed you did. But you forget my detective’s eye, Watson,” he waved an admonishing finger in the air. “I am not so easily fooled as Lord Palmerston. Although you dilly-dallied about quite a bit, the mechanics of your final breach of Lady Palmerston were identical to those of his Lordship. In fact, I would hazard that his Lordship approached the matter entirely more efficiently than yourself.”
“I see,” I smiled.
“Yes. A very fortunate outcome, I think.” He drew again on his pipe, puffing out a noxious cloud of smoke. “In fact, it would surprise me not at all to find them knocking us up in Baker Street in a week’s time complaining of a relapse. Lady Palmerston may even demand another treatment! At your cost, no less! What would you say to that, Watson?”
“I don’t know, Holmes,” I said, crossing my legs and looking out the window. I imagined Victoria on her stallion, racing beside the train with hair and skirts billowing out behind. “Perhaps my luck shall hold.”
~~~ THE END ~~~
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Sherlock Holmes and the case of The Virgin Bride