The judge woke from his rest and felt that he had company in his bed... and his company was intent on waking him. He heard tiny sighs from beneath the covers where she was, and he let her carry on... what a wonderful way to wake up in the night. He grunted and came, and a few moments later Johanna emerged from beneath the covers.
"You couldn't wait?" he asked. She gave a little groan, and took his hand and laid it on her breast.
"Show me something else," she begged. "There's just so much to learn. Read me another one of your stories, let me try what those girls do."
"I suppose," he said, feigning disinterest. He pulled a thick volume from the bedside table and began to read. As his eyes moved across the page, he took glances up at Johanna, who was in a kind of awed, young girl's ecstasy. Her mouth open, her eyes closed, small whimpers emerging from her as she began to succumb to the sensuality of what he was reading. Soon her little fingers were undoing the buttons on her nightgown, until gradually her breasts were exposed-
Judge Turpin put his pen down in anguish, and then shut his journal roughly. It was filled up to the very last page. He flipped through the entries from the past few months- pages and pages of writing, fantasy after fantasy. There were four more journals kept in his desk, locked away in a drawer. Hundreds of pages detailing what he wanted to do with Johanna, should he ever be presented with the opportunity.
It had started when she was fourteen. She stood in front of a window, and he could see through the white cotton of her nightgown... he was suddenly overcome. He'd had to excuse himself and sit alone, trying to understand what had happened to him. He'd never thought of her that way before- he'd always occupied himself with whores or girls who worked in the house, or simply girls from the street who thought that sleeping with him would get them somewhere. But suddenly here was this sexual enigma- a girl who was so innocent that she did not even seem as though she had looked at herself naked, let alone allowed anyone else to. He needed to conquer her, to be the recipient of her innocence. To guide her, to teach her.
At first he tried to ignore the thoughts of her. But she began to crop up in his dreams, always behaving wickedly and like the girls he slept with... only better. The Johanna in his mind had five times the desire of a normal girl, always wanting more, never tiring. He was stare at her over the dinner table, wondering whether she would enjoy his tongue between her legs as much as she had in his dream the night before. He watched her when she was quiet and thoughtful, desperate to know what was going on in her girlish mind. But he would keep the thoughts to himself... until finally he could not anymore.
He had found a blond girl on the streets walking from a restaurant. She was not a whore, but was loose enough to be persuaded to come home with him and share his bed for the night. He called her Johanna and made her do things that he'd never had girls do with him before. In the morning, she left quickly.
He knew he could not carry on as things were- constantly in a sexual frenzy, always caught up in his fantasies. And yet he knew he could not join her bed, not yet at least. So he began to write down his fantasies. Every day, and sometimes as many as four times a day, he would write down his thoughts about her. At the beginning, they were infrequent. But this time, he could hardly contain his desire anymore.
She was sixteen now, and he'd never wanting anything this badly before. Watching her blush, watching her eat, watching her brush her hair... anything she did made him want her more. He drilled the whole in her wall one day when she was preoccupied, and had used it since. However, he never happened to see anything worth watching. She was quiet and usually spent her time reading, and undressed behind a screen, even when she was alone.
Maybe I should just... take her, he thought, for what was certainly not the first time. She was a small girl, he was a man. If he caught her unsuspecting, he could easily hold her down. But that was not what he wanted- he wanted to show her what a man could do for a woman, if she let him. What a woman's job was, in giving her body to a man. He wanted to give her pleasure, to hear her whimper and feel her jerk and writhe with desire. He wanted her to return to him, begging for more. And he knew she would never understand.
He locked away his journal, stood, and began the walk to her room. He decided to leave his erection as it was... though she would not understand, let her wonder. At least he would have the satisfaction of knowing she was thinking, albeit without knowledge, of his manhood.
Her door was open, and she sat brushing her golden hair in her nightgown. The candlelight made her hair look even softer and luminous than it usually did. He knocked lightly, and she smiled at him.
"Come in," she said, sounding welcoming. He did as was told, and sat beside her on the dressing bench. Unthinkingly, he reached out and stroked one of the blond strands... her hair was so soft. So long... he could imagine what it would feel like to wrap his fingers in it, watching it get tangled in disarray.
She blushed, and he grew braver.
"Johanna. You are growing into quite the beautiful young woman," he remarked. She blushed deeper, and he carried on. "Do not be embarrassed. It is quite a wonderful thing, to watch a girl grow into a woman."
She did not answer.
"I know you must be confused about some things. You have grown, you have changed. Your body is different."
She looked at him in surprise, her blue eyes large. He smiled at her, and laid a hand on her knee. She did not seem to understand what he was alluding to.
"Johanna, I understand. I understand women, and I understand you. I want you to know if you have any questions, any at all, you can ask me. About any... feelings you might be having?"
She just looked confused. He pressed on, hoping to get a reaction from her to prove to him that she did, in fact, know something about what he was talking about.
"Some things you are feeling... they might seem wrong. But Johanna, they are not. You are just a girl with feelings, and desires. Come to me, I shall help you. Don't be afraid of giving into desire, Johanna. And don't be afraid of me," he finished. He rubbed her knee a bit, just to know he'd touched her there, and stood.
Her nightgown was slightly askew, for he'd come in rather suddenly, and her shoulders were bare. She was so young, her flesh unmarred and her breasts young and soft-looking. How he wished her knew for sure.
"Goodnight, Johanna," he whispered, and then left her alone.
He sighed once he reached his room again. His desire had ruined the other women for him- he hadn't slept with anyone in two months. It was horrible. It wasn't that he was interested in any kind of monogamy with Johanna... but he wanted her so badly that any other woman, at the time, seemed second rate. until he had Johanna to sleep with, he could not sleep with anyone else either. So as he'd done for every night for the past sixty-some days, he sat alone in his room, indulging in his fantasies of the girl just two bedrooms away.
So it's a little twist there, huh? Tell me your thoughts. New chapter soon!