An exert from Eveline. According to Victorian Erotic Tales, Eveline is “one of the best-known Victorian erotic novels. Nothing is known about the author but it was probably first published in an ‘underground edition in 1843. Its enduring success is a tribute to the author’s ability to tease and tantalize. Eveline, in her search for sexual gratification, undermines everything Victorian society expected a woman to be.”

From Eveline

Once more the train to Calais, once more the dreadful sea sickness. I am free. No more school; no pensionnat for Eveline! My father had returned from India. his term of service had expired. He had received his C.B. He was now retiring as a Major General. his breast was covered with the medals he had won, yet except some mere scratches, he had never received a wound. H was still a young and vigorous man in the prime of life. He was also a lineal descendant of an ancient family, and a Baronet. 

I was seventeen. I was considered to have arrived at an age when I might bid adieu to educational routine. I was to spend a few months at home in Mayfair, to improve the occasion in the reception of music and singing lessons from the first professors. Not that my mother desired my return; she had her own reasons for her unwilling assent. Lady L—- had never overcome her antipathy for her only daughter. Sir Edward, however, had a distinct desire to have me at home. It was to him I owed my emancipation. We had not met since I was a child of eight. My sympathy was all for him. I shared his desire to meet again after so long an absence. 

Sir Edward was absent shooting in the North when I arrived. My mother was suffering, so she informed me, from rheumatism. She kept to her room. My time did not hang too heavily on my hands for all that. I had plenty of liberty. The carriage was at my disposal. We were rich. The house was commodious. The servants were numerous and well paid. They were evidently overjoyed to welcome me to my home, and have someone to break the monotony of their existence. 

I very soon began to discriminate among them. There was the senior footman, John Parker, who was particularly polite and attentive to me. My mother preferred to take her meals in her own room upstairs. I dined all alone, save when I invited a young friend of my own age to share my meal. On the occasions when I was quite by myself, John would venture to suggest various choice portions from the dishes set before me. He cut and arranged them on my plate. He interested me. He was a man of some eight and thirty, not very tall for a footman, but stout and broad. I thought in my ignorance he was magnificent in his handsome livery, with his gold garters, black silk stockings, and his crimson plush breeches. He made a great impression on me. I suppose I showed my interest in him too plainly. He soon became more attentive, more subservient — more familiar. 

"How long have you been here, John?"

From the first I could never bring myself to call him Parker.

"Three years, miss, come Christmas."

"You must find it very dull now Sir Edward is away and Mr Percy in Canada. I expect you have gay times downstairs, when your work is over in here."

"Well, miss, not so much. The others are not a very gay lot and the cook goes out when the work is done. The girls both sit upstairs with my lady’s own maid. now you’re here, miss, if I may be allowed to say so, the house is not at all the same. It seems quite lively - at least to me, miss."

"Where is my maid, John? She has not brought my shoes. I cannot bear these boots any longer, I am tired."

"Mary is upstairs, miss, shall I call her?"

"No, John, if you will be so good as to undo these laces, I can sit more comfortably at the table." 

I pushed out my foot. I placed it on a stool. John stooped over it. He began to fumble at the knot. His hand trembled.

"I am afraid, John, you are not quite a lady’s maid, but I think you are very nice all the same."

John chuckled. I gave a little kick out with my foot. It touched his plush breeches.

"Oh, you hurt me, John - no - not with your knuckles - it’s the lace at the back of the instep - see here -"

He took my foot in his hand. He touched my ankle. 

"It’s just there, John, please rub it a little."

John set to work to rub the ankle. As he rubbed, so I swayed my foot backwards and forwards upon his plush breeches. Something hard seemed to grow up under my foot.

"What have you got in your pocket, John? Is it a flute?"

"No, miss, I am not musical. I don’t play any instrument."

The man blushed scarlet as his breeches, and seemed quite confused.

"It feels exactly like on John, and it gets bigger and bigger."

I pushed my little kid boot into closer contact with the thing, John’s hand was now on my calf, and my black silk stocking evidently delighted him, for he made pretence to linger where he was. 

I put on my most innocent and childish air.

"Do all the men have those things there, John? The girls at school told me lots about them."

"I don’t know, miss, I suppose so. I - really! Miss! I’m afraid someone may come."

"Don’t be alarmed, John, no one will come. I want to feel it."

"Good Lord! Miss - if they should know - if I am found out I shall lose my place."

"But you won’t tell, John, will you?"

"Oh dear, no, miss! But you might let it out unawares-like."

I sprange forward. I seized the object in his red plush breeches with my hand. John stood quite still and breathed hard. 

"Good Lord, miss! If they come, if we’re found out!"

"They are all upstairs - we are alone. I must feel it. I know what it is, John. My goodness! How it throbs - how big it is getting now - let me feel it."

The footman submitted with a good grace. Itw as clear he was by no means unwilling. He evidently enjoyed my fingering. I slyly undide the corner button of his flap. I audaciously slipped my hand in. I ran it quickly down his belly. I encountered his nice clean shirt all warm. Then my hand fastened on his limb. I pulled away his shirt. I grasped his naked member. It felt very fat and thick. It was still stiffening. I gave it a sudden twist. It stood up now against his belly.

"Is that nice, John?"

"Good Lord! Yes, miss, it’s heavenly, but I’m afraid we may be caught at it."

He appeared to have an enormous limb, not so long as the corrid concierge, but very thick and strong. I managed to pull back the skin. I felt a big, soft, beautiful knob on the end. He turned toward me. He favoured my toying, but the space was too confined to enable me to finger it as I liked.

Just then the doorbell rang.

I withdrew my hand. John buttoned up. The next minute he was opening the door with the grand air of a butler who could crush the comer with a glance. 


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