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Of Tentacles and Sleeping Girls or The Finishing School for Young Ladies

‘Of Tentacles and Sleeping Girls’ or ‘The Finishing School for Young Ladies’
Another torrid, Tentacular travesty by Will Crimson

  • Shortly after I posted Master Masseuse, I was snooping around my stats page and saw that someone (a woman I presume) had Googled Tentacle Fucking Sleeping Girls. Tentacle insisted that I immediately write just such a story. Immediately. So, here it is.

December 4th, 1884. Ms. Flitfithle enters the staid Victorian offices of the Dean of Students, a Mrs. Snorpwiddle. Mrs. Snorpwiddle sits tumblr_mdnukyo7Mm1qddto7o1_1280behind a large mahogany desk which is placed before a single vaulted, stone window with flanking bookshelves. A tall wooden chair, for visitors, sits before the desk. Mrs. Flitfithle closes the door, first peering to be sure no student followed or might overhear. She hurries to the chair before Dean Snorpwiddle’s desk, maneuvering her long dress with both hands as she seats herself.

Ms. F.: [She bites her lip, straightens, gathers her courage and speaks.] I find— [But words fail her.]

Mrs. S.: Ms. Flitfithle?

Ms. F.: I was— Last night— [There follows another lip-biting silence.]

Mrs. S.: Ms. Flitfithle, whatever could be troubling you?

Ms. F.: [She clenches her fists and stikes her lap.] Tentacles!

Mrs. S.: Tentacles, Ms. Flitfithle?

Ms. F.: Oh, Mrs. Snorpwiddle, I— Last night— I— In the girls dorm— Those poor, darling, innocent girls in their shifts! I saw— They were everywhere, Mrs. Snorpwiddle!

Mrs. S.: Girls?

Ms. F.: No! Tentacles, Mrs. Snorpwiddle! Tentacles!

Mrs. S.: Tentacles?

Ms. F.: [Nods frantically.]

Mrs. S.: And this is the first you’ve seen them?

Ms. F.: [Sputters.] First? You mean by “first”— As if I should earlier have seen such monstrosities? First! And shall there be a second time?

Mrs. S.: Ms. Flitfithle. You are young, and not having children of your own, let alone adolescents in the first bloom of young adulthood (such as you call “innocent”) I perhaps presume too much. You say you saw tentacles, Ms. Flitfithle?

Ms. F.: [Nods furiously.] Oh, Mrs. Snorpwiddle, they were everywhere. I could see their insinuous black arms glistening by the light of the lantern. The girls were sleeping. Oh, the poor innocent darlings! Not one stirred. I did not dare sound the alarm as I greatly feared there would be such a general panic and pandemonium as might draw the attention of the surrounding town in its egregious entirety! I cannot endure the thought of the incommodious censure and scandal that might swiftly ensue were the parents—who have entrusted to us alone the care and tender guidance of their innocent daughters—to discover the vile and reprehensible creatures that inhabit the very heart and hallowed halls of our otherwise unimpeachable institution! [Breathe.] Oh, Mrs. Snorpwiddle, whatever’s to be done?

Mrs. S.: First, I must insist that you calm yourself. Secondly, Mrs. Flitfithle, once you have gathered your wits about you, I expect you shall describe to me, precisely, that which you were so unfortunate as to behold.

Ms. F.: [Mrs. Flitfithle tightly grips her pleated dress.] I— Mrs. Snorpwiddle, respectable company—

Mrs. S.: [Interrupting.] Mrs. Flitfithle. It shall be impossible unless you are frank. I am sure that you have not lived so sheltered a life that the necessary vocabulary with which to frankly describe what you witnessed escapes you.

Ms. F.: [Mrs. Flitfithle straightens and moves her hands to the chair’s arms.] I— It was midnight— And I— I must first preface what I describe with the following brief excursus: It has lately been the habit of the girls to request allowances for sanitary necessities in the morning – being often drenched upon waking. I thought little of the matter at first but when nearly every girl was similarly afflicted I could not but inquire into the source of their disposition. Thus did I betake upon myself my nocturnal investigation, witnessing the most distressing cause of their malady.

Mrs. S.: Yes, Ms. Flitfithle, yes, do proceed, I beseech you — the malady?

Ms. F.: Tentacles! Oh, Mrs. Snorpwiddle! Tentacles! I could not! I dared not so much as breathe! They writhed and twisted from beneath the beds of the innocent children, my little girls! —

Mrs. S.: Ms. Flitfithle, I must insist you desist! They are hardly yours and they are hardly—and no longer—little girls!

Ms. F.:Yes but— I cannot help—

Mrs. S.: Ms. Flitfithle, I do confess and harbor sympathy. You have instructed the girls since they first matriculated and when they were indeed, Ms. Flitfithle, little girls. But surely it has not escaped your notice that the youthful blush of womanhood is fully upon them.

Ms. F.: Of course, Mrs. Snorpwiddle.

Mrs. S.: Then proceed, Ms. Flitfithle—the malady?

Ms. F.: The tentacles were dark as night and the suckers upon them white as full moons. They moved and twisted around the girls wrists and ankles in a most muscular, vile and distressing manner — some circling their slender waists, lifting their hips until they were raised to their tentacleknees, their little sexes entirely defenseless—lifted and raised obscenely behind them. Then with some, and even with others who had not been so positioned, the dark tentacles thickly twisted and insinuated their length in the long hair and braids of the innocents, bending their slender necks with a vile and muscular drawing back of their heads—

Mrs. S.: And not one of the girls wakened during?

Ms. F.: Not one, Mrs. Snorpwiddle! Not one! Imagine! I saw the vile tentacle part a girl’s tender lips, and then her tongue—that had that very forenoon pleased me with a recitation of the catechism—protrude beneath the tentacle as though to cup and welcome the vile penetration. And then to see her suck on that horrible manifestation until its foul fluids filled her mouth, puffed her cheeks and spilled from her lips and tongue and still, to my horror, to see her suck and swallow most obediently!

Mrs. S.: And have you observed this other nights?

Ms. F.: Oh yes, I tell them they merely drool upon their pillow whilst they sleep!

Mrs. S.: And they do not waken?

Ms. F.: The ministrations of the tentacles are impossible deft and subtle.

Mrs. S.: I can hardly believe such a thing!

Ms. F.: [Ms. Flitfithle leans forward, hands clasped in her lap.] Not once! I have seen the revolting tentacles twist around their tender and innocent nipples like little nooses, tugging and sufflating them until, in the midst of their sleep, they grasped the sheets, rubbed their thighs, bit their pillows and curled their spines. If not by this method, I have seen the suckers of the tentacles suction their breasts, large and small, until the poor girls distressingly moan, until they turn onto their backs, open their slender thighs, knees high—in supplication, obedience or submission I dare not speculate— or they will turn onto their bellies, hips grinding until they cannot help but draw their knees, not under them but splayed to their sides, their sexes compliantly lifted behind them with an obscene flexibility of their spine, their youthful flowers raised and vulnerable. Then another tentacle, as I have already described, will draw back their heads.

Mrs. S.: [She shifts in her seat, crossing her legs, one side to the other.] And is this all, Ms. Flitfithle?

Ms F.: [Ms. Flitfithle blushes furiously.] Oh, no, Mrs. Snorpwiddle! — for then, made pliant and submissive, the largest, most masculine of the tentacles, whose shape would disgrace me to describe, presses against the vulnerable clefts of my innocent darlings, presses at the very center of tumblr_mjdwjsi7Z81rkio2ko1_1280their slender and parted thighs, and as if the appendage were too large, too rotund, too swollen, cannot progress but seems to press ever more firmly, making them pant and groan (and yet they scarcely make any effort to escape the vile intrusion!). Only when it seems the arrogant tentacle cannot possibly slip into and inside their slender bellies, does it abruptly do so, as if breaking some unseen barrier, abruptly, suddenly and deeply, such that I could almost see the shape of the tentacle within their slim abdomens. And then, my poor innocent darlings, their voices! Voices that so angelically bless our chapels! There voicers! How they are corrupted and subservient to the things subduing them! [Ms. Flitfithle’s voice lowers.] But more degrading still! I have seen, at the moment their sexes submit, at the instant their poor slender clefts swallow the great round bulge of the tentacle, I have witnessed them surrender streaming spurts that bathed the vile tentacles even as the appendages sunk into them. Do they urinate? Is this involuntary? Does the sheer overwhelming shock of this possession cause the female all loss of bodily control? She cannot move once she is thus impaled — but is made at once obedient and subordinate to the other’s will? Is it this that is feminine in us? Such a complete submission to these vile creatures! I have seen them thrust through and through! — the very ends of the vile tentacles poke through their lips and wag like the devil’s own tongue! Everywhere, the fluids of the dreadful contiguity, the girl’s and the horrid creatures, drips and overflows! — from lips, from their small breasts, from thighs! Great quantities of the creature’s horrid excrescence are somehow deposited, impossibly I should think, in the narrow confines of the girls’ bellies before they withdraw!

Mrs. S.: [Opens the window behind her.]

Ms. F.: Mrs. Snorpwiddle, is that wise? What if we are overheard?

Mrs. S.: I find that it has grown [Mrs, Snorpwiddle fans her face] uncomfortably hot in the office. Do you not think so?

Ms. F.: [Ms. Flitfithle straightens and primly lifts her skirt at the knees, shaking the fabric as though to encourage air.] Perhaps.

Mrs. S.: I thank you for such a thorough description of their malady.

Ms. F.: Mrs. Snorpwiddle, whatever shall we do?

Mrs. S.: [Leans forward, elbows on desk, steepled fingers at her chin.] As you are unmarried—

Ms. F.: I should not permit such circumstance to impinge upon my responsibilities!

Mrs. S.: Yes, as I say, and as you are unmarried, I shall not presume an acquaintance with such importunances and obsecrations as befall the feminine sex and to which the feminine sex is obligated, by her nature, to comply. Yet do you have no memory of your own adolescence?

Ms. F.: But Ms. Snorpwiddle! Do you? — I? — Do you suggest that I have inflicted upon—

Mrs. S.: On the contrary! Ms. Flitfithle, these creatures which you have witnessed are but the suppressed desires of a burgeoning womanhood. Whilst our responsibility is to instruct the young woman and finish her in such manner is may befit her class and education, nature instructs and readies her for that inevitable purpose, that masculine prerogative, to which we must all submit, regardless of class or education. We are all made equal.

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Ms. F.: Then there is nothing to be done?

Mrs. S.: It is not you alone who instructs them, Ms. Flitfithle.

Ms. F.: Oh, Mrs. Snorpwiddle, shall the feminine psyche ever be liberated from this wicked and vile creature — the Tentacle? Would we not be perfect in every respect but for this wickedness which compels in us these most unspeakable desires — who deludes us, tricks us, and persuades us only insofar as he conceives in us? Oh, womankind? Will we ever be liberated from this folly that nature instills in us?

8 comments on “Of Tentacles and Sleeping Girls or The Finishing School for Young Ladies

  1. vanillamom
    December 28, 2014

    I haven’t finished reading this…family is around and my giggles and titters make reading this a dangerous enterprise…the names, my friend send me into hysterics. Like a long-ago soapy epic, this tale is so tongue in…cheek? tentacle in cheek? that I must wait to be alone to finish it. Or be finished by it.

    nilla

    • willcrimson
      December 28, 2014

      What? You think the name – Biggus Dickus — is funny? Biggus Dickus? Or Flitfithle? Or Snorpwiddle? Pray?

    • vanillamom
      January 5, 2015

      oh, yes, (snickers into elbow attempting discretion)…They are all…so vastly amusing, that merely saying them in my head makes me mad with giggles…

      nilla

  2. Posterboy
    December 28, 2014

    Such vile and inappropriate musings, Sir, are surely the product of a depraved mind and a twisted and unseemly expertise in the literary arts. I warrant the likely has not been seen in many a day. I beseech you to look to your well-being and discharge yourself without delay of any more of these missives, should they come along, lest the seminal pressure become too great for both yourself and your ill-advised followers. Among whom, Sir, I count myself.

    I am, Sir, yrs &c.

    • willcrimson
      December 28, 2014

      Dear Sir,

      I should account myself no Gentleman were I to admit, between us, such division as hardly befits our rank and title. Regarding the fairer sex, I say I, nor any Gentleman, need exaggerate their dilatory effect upon our manly disposition. But as we are but men, we cannot be more. Let us not ourselves be obstructive to that feminine prostration to which nature privileges and entitles us. Allow a Gentleman the use of that which nature has apportioned him — and to which nature makes a woman suitably submissive.

      As Evr. I am Sir, & rmain, yrs & c.

  3. Wordwytch
    December 30, 2014

    Oh so delightful. To be there and hear Tentacle’s version of what is going on would be delightful. And… to have said ladies treated like their students.

  4. Rudy
    January 11, 2015

    This torrid story, Will, is so satisfying, so sweet and nasty! And incredibly, describes exactly the early morning ritual that my fair woman, through all her teen years, did practice, in her bed, on her knees, head on pillow, youthful flower raised and open . . . and wet.
    Thanks for another wet-hot story.

    • willcrimson
      January 11, 2015

      :-) Well, you know, tentacle and young women — like sweet and sour, cookies and milk, honey and wine…

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Crimsonian & Obsidian Lens

The Obsidian Lens and Crimsonian contain links to password-protected stories from the Erotic Writers with darker themes. For more information on Obsidian Lens, click here. Email William Crimson directly for admission to the Crimsonian.

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This blog contains adult material. If you are a minor, please go. If you are an adult, you are welcome to stay but be warned, this blog contains erotic fiction and images - sexually explicit content abounds. The themes sometimes tend toward the darker and weirder corners. Be your own judge when deciding what to read.

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