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feel of a man’s weight and force.
    There were no honey’d words now, no tender caresses. I’d let him come too far to retreat, even if I’d wished it. Instead he swiftly freed his cock from his breeches and shoved aside my petticoats, baring me to his attack. I’d a blurry awareness of the rough woolen of his breeches rubbing against the inside of my thighs and his fingers parting my quivering virgin flesh.
    Mind you, I was but fifteen, and not nearly so worldly as I’d pretended to be. With no knowledge of a man’s strength or urgency at such times, I panicked and tried to wriggle backward across the bed. But he’d pinned me fairly with his knees on my skirts, and with three quick thrusts the thing was done, and he was buried deep within my poor little nest.
    “So tight you are, my goddess,” he muttered, and groaned as he moved within me. “Fuck me now, Barbara, hard.”
    I squeezed my eyes shut as if to hide away, so overwhelmed was I by my plight. I now possessed what I’d craved for so long, yet I’d no notion what to make of it, or how to do what Philip ordered of me. What had become of the sweet blessing he’d promised, the joy he’d sworn would be greater than that which he’d given me with his fingers and tongue?
    “What is it?” He pushed himself up on his arms to look down at me. “Does it pain you?”
    I shook my head. I couldn’t answer more from fear I’d weep and seem the sorriest fool. Besides, it wasn’t the bodily pain of my ravished virginity—to be honest, we’d dallied so much before that I doubted there’d been much of that left—but the dull ache of disappointment, and that would be far too hard to explain.
    Yet still he guessed, either from tenderness for me or more likely from experience with all the other maids he’d undone.
    “The worst is over, I vow,” he said, huffing and puffing as if he’d just run a league uphill. “Now look, Barbara. Look, and see what you’ve done to me.”
    Slowly I opened my eyes. Driven by the same curiosity that had brought me this far, I slipped my hand between us to touch the place we were joined. I was soft and slick where I stretched around him, while he was hard, and sticky with my juices, in the most wondrous contrast imaginable. Pleasure shot through me as I touched myself, taking me so by surprise that I gasped and rose up with it, twisting like a cat.
    “Ah, there, there, you hot little jade,” Philip said, gasping as well. “I knew you were born for this.”
    And so, it would seem, I was. Whether from my own inclinations or because of my wanton Villiers blood, I found my rapture that first time with Philip, and ever after. With the destruction of my maiden’s gate, any shred of reserve vanished, and my wanton desires spilled out in a feverish rush. The more times I lay with him, the more I craved. I was delighted with my new knowledge, and why not? I now had a lover, a handsome, daring gentleman for my first prize, and to me that was worth a dozen virginities.
    I likewise displayed a gift for the more adventurous amatory arts. Philip—for since I shared his bed, he now granted me leave to call him by his Christian name—meant it as a shining compliment, which I accepted as readily as the lessons he took care to teach me. In addition to instructing me in how best to please him, he showed me how to please myself as well, a skill few ladies ever do acquire. He showed me lewd books, Aretino’s Postures and L’escholle des Filles, and explained the use of lovers’ toys, like false phalluses that he’d bought in his travels in France and Italy. He taught me other practical things useful to a budding female libertine, too, such as to drink deeply of wine before I retired with my lover, so that I’d be sure to make a freshet of water in the chamber pot immediately afterward, and thereby safely purge myself of his seed. He also taught me the French pleasure, by which I took him in my mouth, and safely spat away his essences