The Eisenhain Incident – The First Incident
Introduction:
After Sarah’s mother dies, her father begins drinking heavily and her brother’s innocent comment makes her suspicious of his involvement.
The Eisenhain Incident, Chapter One.
The Funeral
The grim grey clouds of England were lit for the briefest of moments by a flash of lightning, though no rain fell to wash away the tear streaming down Sarah Eisenhain’s cheek. The funeral continued without a care for the weather; the parish priest uttering those holy words, “I am the Resurrection and the Life”, after which her mother’s coffin was slowly lowered into the waiting grave. Thunder rumbled in the distance then, as though the sky strained just as much as those ropes holding her mother steady.
Sarah knew the prayer would come soon, after the sprinkling of the holy water upon varnished wood. She wanted to speak it with the others, but feared her voice would choke if she but even attempted it. She had to remain strong, stronger than the father she could almost hear crying besides her, stronger than her little brother, who was too young to understand what was happening. It was for his sake that she wouldn’t allow him to see her cry, for little Adam and she had been close since Connor left for the trenches last spring, and Adam relied on her to be the support he could lean on.
Her father was no such man. So busy was he with the running of his factories that he found no time for his children, or for his wife.
“… so may Thy mercy unite her above to the choirs of angels. Through Jesus Christ our lord. Amen.”
The priest’s words fell silent as the burial finished. The sound of soil being shovelled into the grave by the men stood to attention beside it churned Sarah’s stomach, and she soon felt a hand on her shoulder, guiding her away.
“Sarah, take your brother home,” said Mr. Eisenhain, as he led the three year old to join hands with his elder sister. Adam was crying and complaining, but neither of them had the heart to stop him.
“Yes, father,” Sarah mumbled, looking down and trying to smile at the boy. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“I don’t believe so,” Mr. Eisenhain replied, as he signalled for the carriage to approach them. “I have a meeting this evening.”
The First Incident
A church bell struck eleven times, causing Sarah’s eyes to open sleepily; her naked body submerged in a hot bath of bubble-coated water. It was six months to the day that her mother had died, but also eighteen years to the hour that Sarah had been born. It was February, and a cold in England. The water kept her warm, though, and she found a comfort in allowing her body to float there in the large, metal tub. A deep relaxation, and a low, lingering pleasure when she focused on the heated liquid between her legs.
She let out a sigh, willing to let her fingers wander over her womanhood and her thoughts to drift to the boy who worked for her father. She had only spoken to him a few times, but he was strong and tall and had straw-blonde hair that was a mess. Whenever she saw him, he was always covered in sweat and she could make out the muscled tone of his arms and chest; and once, she could have sworn he had been staring at her breasts.
She tipped her head back, giggling to herself as a hand ran over chest and lightly cupped the area over the nipple. She was pleased with her breasts, for they were round and well-formed for her age and when her dresses and bras pushed them up, her cleavage always attracted the eyes of those men who hadn’t gone to war.
She knew why, of course. Sarah was beautiful and there was no doubt about it. Her figure was an hourglass, her stomach toned and her legs strong and shapely; her chestnut hair fell down her back with the slightest spring of curl. Still, she couldn’t quite figure out why they would choose her over others.
The conscription was in effect. Many men, in fact, most men that she knew had all gone to the war in France. Brothers, husbands, fathers and sons, leaving widows and lonely women in their thousands in every town. Surely those men who had been left behind were not wanting for the loving embrace of a female?
She let out a long, pleasurable sigh, not realizing how her index finger had teased her mound so. She had never been with a man, but she longed for one all the same.
Sarah’s second sigh turned into a slight squeal as the bathroom door was opened and the young boy wandered in with innocence. Sarah dipped down, hiding all but her nose and above underwater as she looked at the letter clutched in the boy’s hands.
“What do you have there, Toffee?” She asked; the name born out of Adam’s love for toffee apples.
“Lettah!” He said, grinning. “Con-Con!”
The elder sister’s eyes widened. Connor had wrote?! She jumped up, sending water splashing over the edge of the tub as naked arms reached down to take the enveloped from her brother’s hands, causing her breasts to press and squeeze over the side of the bath. She unsealed it with haste, and drew the first few inches of the contents into view just to confirm it had been written by her elder brother’s hand. It had.
“Okay little Toffee,” she said, smiling broadly at him, “go and wait in my room while I change and I’ll come and read it to us, okay?”
Toffee nodded, taking the letter out of her sister’s hands and turning to run. He fell on the way to the door, but neither of them seemed to mind. He just scampered back up and left through the gap in the door to the hall beyond.
“And no peeking until I get there!” Sarah called out again, though she knew her brother couldn’t yet read.
When he had gone, Sarah climbed out, squeezing water from her hair back into the tub. Wet feet hit the heated warmed stone floor with two soft pats, and Sarah began to walk around the room in search of her towel. When she found it on iron radiator, she lowered herself to pick it up, only to hear the bathroom door being pushed open again to the sound of a woman’s voice.
“Lady Sarah, have you seen young Ada-“ Sarah cut the woman off with a quick scream, jumping around to face who it was with the towel barely covering her modesty.
“Don’t fret, Miss Sarah,” said Adam’s nanny – Miss Little, “we both have the same, you and I. I’ve seen it all before.”
Sarah let out an exasperated sigh and revealed herself, though only to properly wrap the towel around her form and tie it above her breasts to stop it from falling. “I’m sorry, Miss Little, I was just shocked,” she explained.
“Speak of it no more. Have you seen your brother?”
“Yes, I sent him to my room. Connor wrote to us from the front!”
“I see. How wonderful! I’ll leave you both to it, shall I? I’ll go and clean Adam’s playroom in the meantime.”
“Thank you, I’ll come along and help when we’re done. It shouldn’t take long.”
Miss Little left with a smile, and Sarah stood and watched her until she was gone. She let out a sigh when she had, then began to try herself proper. Miss Little was red-haired, a little on the plump side and had breasts larger than Sarah’s head. Still, she loved the woman dearly; though only 33 years old, Miss Little had been a nanny to the Eisenhain children for over ten years.
Sarah dressed herself in her mother’s old gown, then slipped her fleet into a pair of slippers shaped after the likeness of a bunny. She then left the bathroom, made her way down the sun-soaked hall and into her bedroom.
She found Adam posing one of her old dolls, making one of the boys and girls stand and hold hands, each using their opposite arm to wave towards the door. “What are you doing there, Toffee?” Sarah asked, as she moved over to her white, varnished dresser and sat down upon her seat. Her brother had put the letter on the dresser when he came in, waiting for her to read it aloud for the both of them.
“Read-time now?” The young boy said, his excitement clear as he jumped towards Sarah and sat straight down on the ground by her curtains, his eyes on the letter eagerly.
“Yes, read-time now,” the elder sister replied, re-opening the unsealed envelope and drawing the contents out to her lap. She immediately began to read aloud.
‘Dear Family,
I hope this letter arrives and that you are all well. I long for nothing else other to be back at home with you all. However, since I’m quite certain who will read this, I’ll stop with all the formalities and just write normally.
Dearest Sarah, I miss you and little Toffee dearly. I assume you’ll read this aloud to him, so I’ll refrain from using coarse language or speaking of sad things, but know that you are both dearly in my heart and I dream of you every night in this place. The trenches are a hard place to be, but this photo I have of the three of us together is as the single ray of sunshine through dark clouds, or the single well of water in an endless desert.
I still can’t believe mother passed away. When I last saw her, she was as beautiful and kind as ever.. To be taken so soon? I can’t believe I missed her funeral; that my superior officer would not let me take leave to attend to personal matters. Still, I won’t talk of war here, as I do not want to depress you both, or relive such experiences in my writing.
My Captain assures us that we’ll be home for summer, that the war will end within months and us Englishmen will return home victorious over the Germans we face every day. The first thing I shall do is visit mother’s grave, and mourn for her properly. Then, I will take you and little Toffee away from that house and we can be a true family elsewhere.
This next part is for Adam, so please read it to him:
Hello, little brother. I hope you’re doing well. I miss you more than anyone, but don’t tell Sarah because she might get jealous. When I get back, I’ll spend all my hours playing with you and your toys, and we’ll go exploring in the woods. I bet you’ve grown so much; almost a grown man, I imagine!
And remember, don’t tell anyone what you saw! It’s our secret!
I’ll close this letter now, because I know I could sit here and write all evening and that I really cannot afford to do so. Wish all the family and friends my love and tell them I’ll be back by august, without question!
P.S Oh and Sarah, the other page is for you only. Please read it to no-one, not even little Toffee.”
Sarah stopped reading. She slid them back into the envelope and placed them in her dresser drawer while eyeing her younger brother. He had clapped as she read, his excitement overwhelming enough to put a wide smile on her face. Now that she had finished, he looked torn between wanting to smile and cry for himself.
“Will Con-Con come home soon?” He asked, wanting reassurance.
“Of course he will!” She told him with a grin. “Now let’s go and find Miss Little and have lunch in the garden.”
“Yay!” He squealed, standing and running to the door. As he opened it, Sarah called to stop him.
“Wait! Toffee, what did you see? I mean, in the letter?”
“Uhm..” Adam paused, not sure whether he should say anything at all. But he soon loosened his tongue, not wanting to disobey his sibling. “Just mummy and daddy.”
There was no happiness in his voice when he said those words, but before she could question him further he had already run off down the hallway.
–
The evening air was cool. It was only five, but the dark had already crept in to shroud the outside and Sarah was sat outside one of the back doors of their large, Victorian house, with a table by her side, a candle lit upon it to illuminate the book she had in her lap.
It was silent; beautiful. The snow outside was calm and white, reflecting the moon and allowing her to see to the far end of the garden where the flower-bed met the tree-line of their privately owned woodland. She lost track of time, trying to focus upon her book but knowing nothing but troubling ideas instead. She was so intent on her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the sound of footsteps crunching the snow until he was right there besides her, his cap already off to pay respect to a woman of the house.
“It’s a beautiful evening, Miss Sarah,” the straw-haired boy said with a smile, his eyes lingering on her face.
Sarah almost immediately had to hide her blush behind the pages of her book. “Yes, James, it is. What brings you out here? Aren’t you working with father?”
James laughed a little, taking a seat by her side and leaning his elbows against his knees. He pulled his hands up towards his mouth, rubbing them together and breathing warm breath over them. “He wants me here tonight to help him work on some paperwork, or something. I think he’s letting me use the guestroom for the evening, though my Ma won’t be too happy about me staying out all night.”
The slight Irish accent James still had from his childhood days caused Sarah to smile to herself secretly. She didn’t answer for a good few seconds, not wanting to sound stupid… But neither did she want to sound disinterested, so she forced herself to speak with a slight quiver in her voice. “I.. Uhm… Is my father here now?”
“No, he’s drinking in the Inn. Again. He sent me on ahead to prepare. I think he’ll be back soon.”
“I see. Thank you.”
The next two minutes went by in utter silence, James rubbing his hands together and Sarah trying to focus upon the words upon the pages, though none of the information was sticking in her brain. She couldn’t pull her attention away from the almost-eighteen year old besides her.
Eventually, James broke the awkward quiet. “So.. I..’ve never really gotten to speak to you before like this. Alone, I mean.”
“You haven’t,” Sarah agreed, trying to hide the red in her cheeks or the fluttering in her chest. She adored this boy, but she had never really known him. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, haha. Oh.. I’ve been meaning to ask you..”
“What is it James?”
“That painting in the main hall, the one above the top of the stairs. Who’s that girl in it with you? I’ve always wandered but Mr. Eisenhain never answered me.”
“Oh, her? She was my friend as a child. I think she was my cousin, because her family stayed a lot, but I never knew for certain. We were really close, which is why my mother allowed us to pose in the painting together.”
“I see,” he answered with a nod, “she looks like you.”
“She did, it’s true. We used to joke we were sisters,” Sarah said, smiling at the fond memories.
“She did? What happened to her?”
“I’m.. Not sure. One day she left with her parents and then a few years later we received word that they all died in that Titanic accident…”
“I see. I’m sorry, miss Sarah…” James paused for a moment, as though he had something he wanted to say with her but was hesitant to take the plunge and risk it. He found her eyes for a moment, then chose to forget his cowardice and dive. “Damn it, God forgive me for being so rude and straight forward but… Miss Sarah, I think you’re the most beautiful woman ever put on this green Earth!” The boy almost blurted out, but knew it was too late to take it back and so sat there watching her, willing to see it through to acceptance or rejection proper.
Sarah was so surprised by his sudden confession that she couldn’t answer him. Any words her mind tried to convert to sound just became stuck on the back of her tongue and she ended up scrunching her eyelids together. It was absolute love at first sight in her eyes; not even in her books had she heard of a more perfect example. “I.. I.. Like you too,” Sarah admitted, looking at his face as her heart began to beat as fast as her body could stand it.
“Good. Great!” He laughed, his sigh of relief so thick that she could see the breath from it in the cold. It was like all his fears were expelled in the fog. He held out his hand towards the woman, gently taking her delicate fingers into his palm and closing his own around them. “Such soft hands..”
“So.. We shall court, then?” Sarah asked, trying to avoid smiling like a monkey as she examined the roughness of his palm. They were the hands of a physical labourer, and the muscles of his body proved it.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” James grinned, bringing her hand up to his cheek and rubbing it against her palm. Sarah could feel the slight stubble of his chin, causing her to caress his face tenderly. A silence soon fell between them, as though every word they wanted to say to one another could be spoken through a slow gaze; her eyes set upon his own and he in turn peered into her heart and soul through those beautiful brown hues.
Sarah found herself moving closer towards him, though didn’t realize it until her hands were against his chest and her body had turned and begun to lean against his arm and chest. She peered up at his face, and she could feel James’ hand reach up and take the side of her head as tenderly as possible in his palm.
She had no thoughts in her mind, just lusts. The warmth of their bodies complimented each other on that freezing evening and as naturally as sleep, the two began to drift into a slow, mutual kiss. Her wet lips soon met his own, dried from the cold. Saliva was soon shared between them, and as her lips parted to better find his own, she felt his tongue press into her mouth and embrace her own like two lovers on their wedding night.
She was breathless. Her first kiss was… Perfect. Beneath the stars on such a beautiful night, with no-one else around to interrupt them, or to spy or judge. Just him and her… Newfound lovers and no doubt soon-to-be engaged. Suddenly, the slow passage of time ended and Sarah felt strong arms pull her onto her lap, her thighs opened slightly as she sat facing him, leaning her covered breasts and cleavage into his strong, well-formed chest.
Neither of them mentioned it, but it soon became apparent that James’ manhood was rising with new life. She could feel it bulge and press into her inner thigh and Sarah found herself closing her eyes, focusing on the wetness growing between her legs… The thought and desire of his cock inside of her. She began to grind her hips, the bulge in his trousers finding her own underwear and pressing into the soft flesh beneath them. Her breath was being taken away with every second and eventually, she had to break off the kiss in order to properly breathe.
“Oh James,” she whispered, as she straddled him. “No man has ever made me feel this way before.”
“And no woman has ever made my heart pound so violently in my chest. It belongs to you,” he assured, before drawing her in for another kiss.
“BITCH!” The 40 year-old man roared, “WHORE!” Mr. Eisenhain grabbed his daughter’s arm and dragged her from James, their soft whispered suddenly replaced with screams and tears of terror. Sarah tried to struggle, but held no candle to the man who had worked in physical manufacturing his entire life.
James just stood up, helpless and suddenly terrified, though he tried to protest and even made to try and grab Sarah away from his employer, before a swift punch sent him swirling to the ground. Sarah wished she could have stopped screaming long enough to hear what he had tried to say.
“You’re fired!” Mr. Eisenhain yelled. “Get off these premises or I’ll find my rifle and shoot you!”
James was left there out in the snow, as the father dragged his daughter within and slammed the door close. Heavy bolts were placed in the latch, and blinds were drawn to stop anyone from looking in. The sound of Sarah’s cries were lost to him within seconds.
Inside, Sarah’s father covered her mouth and forced her into his ground-floor library. It was a large, comfortable room, with crimson curtains shut across large windows and bookcases lined with all manner of book volumes. Sarah had always liked it because sound could not travel in or out when the door was closed, and her father knew that.
He pushed her in and shut the door, locking It behind them. Sarah had given up screaming, she only sobbed helplessly as she peered up at him. He stank of alcohol, his breath reeking of beer and brandy. How much had he had? The evening was still so early, yet already the household was sleeping and her father stone drunk.
“What the hell were you doing with that boy?!” Her father yelled, the sound of his voice making Sarah flinch and move back towards one of the comfortable sofas.
“I was just..” Her face was shrouded by shadow from candle-light, leaving the room and most of her body dim. Her father was merely a silhouette in her eyes; a large, menacing shadow. “I.. Like him. I’m sorry, daddy. I’m so sorry.”
“Stupid wench!” The man grumbled, throwing a small object directly at his daughter. Sarah flinched and tried to duck, but it was only one of the sweets he often carried to suck on during his day. It bounced harmlessly from her shirt.
“I’m sorry daddy!” She squealed. “Please don’t hit me! I’ll not do it again, I promise! I’ll never see James again!”
“No, you won’t. I’ll send him away in the morning. I’ll ban him from working for me or my company ever again and he will never be allowed to set foot on any land that I own.”
“Daddy, no! That’s not fair! It was my fault, I made him kiss me! Don’t punish him like that!”
“Shut up, Sarah. I’m not that stupid. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing on your own, I AM your father, after all! I DO know you!”
Sarah suddenly found herself getting angry. He knew her, did he? He was never home, they barely spoke, and even when her mother had been alive he had never been a good father to her or her siblings. The tears began to dry up, and she realized how much she loathed the man.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Sarah,” Mr. Eisenhain said, apologizing. “I shouldn’t have done that. Said that.. I was just angry and… Damn it, Sarah. You’re so beautiful. You look so much like your mother and I want to protect you after I… Lost her.”
“Lost her…” Sarah mumbled, looking up at him. “Like you ever had her.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed suddenly, inspecting her with a cautious gaze.
“Father… How did mother die, exactly?” She asked, the one question she had always feared to ask until now. The one question for which the answer had never been supplied. She had never believed the illness story; she was fine, then suddenly she was dead. Death did not just come like that for healthy women.
“… Watch what you’re saying, girl,” Mr. Eisenhain warned her, his voice a low growl.
“Did you… Have anything to-“ Sarah’s question was cut off as he suddenly lunged, slapping her across the face and sending her sprawling over onto one of the tables, her waist hitting the edge and her entire upper body falling upon it.
“HOW DARE YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!” The man roared, as he approached where his daughter now lay.
Sarah made no scream, but tears began to well up in her eyes. “I’m sorry, daddy…” She whispered, too scared to move.
“Sorry? Sorry, are you?” He asked, as he ran a hand hard against her backside, causing his daughter to squeal and lurch forward. The pain was shocking.
“I’m sorry daddy, please don’t hit me!” Sarah sobbed, trying to get up from the table only to have her father’s hand push her down again, keeping her backside out for his ease of reach.
“I’ll teach you to be fucking sorry, girl,” he growled, as his hands took the material of her dress and began to tear it away. Sarah almost choked on her own mucus as she felt the cool breeze suddenly hit the backs of her bare, clean-shaven legs. The sounds of the dress hitting the floor in a crumple was accompanied by the searing pain of another slap striking her soft, round cheek. It burned her like a hot pan had been pressed against her arse.
“Please, stop! It hurts!”
The daughter’s cries were ignored. Soon, she felt his rough hands take hold of her panties and pull against them, the material slowly falling to her thighs. Suddenly she was terrified. “DADDY! NO! What are you doing?!”
“Teaching you a lesson, bitch,” he growled, slowly pulling them all the way down to her ankles.
And there she was, naked from the waist down. Her butt sticking out towards her father, her womanhood bare and fat for him to see if he should try; the cute tuft of pubic hair and all. Another slap struck the top of her thighs, leaving a red handprint on her skin and causing Sarah to cry out.
“You fucking whore,” her father said, his insults knowing no limits to her ears. “I can smell your lubrication from here. You were –aroused- by the boy? You filthy girl!”
The wetness still lingered between her thighs, and with no dignity left Sarah simply lay her head down and cried. The next strike came soon enough, and the one after it. Each successive one seemed to hit harder and her father’s hands alternated between her cheeks.
She heard the ruffling of trousers and an unbuttoning of clothing and the girl’s terrified breath caught in her throat. Was he going to… Oh god…
She expected to be raped, to feel his manhood press between her thighs and ravage her like she was her mother. But that’s not what happened, instead the soft slapping and stroking sounds as a hand pumped up and down a hardened cock. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear it and in a way that was worse. He was aroused by this… By his own daughter. He was pleasuring himself to the sight of her bare bum and pussy with one hand, while spanking her hard for ‘punishment’ with the other.
Her father’s breathing became laboured. “Filthy slut!” He groaned. “Ugh. Fuuck.”
The sounds of his stroking became faster and faster, and after what must have been the twentieth slap against her already red and sore bottom, she felt a hardness press against the top of one of her thighs… And a slight wetness. A moistness… Not from her, but from the man doing this to her.
Sarah’s body wasn’t complying with her distraught state of mind. As much as she hated him.. As much as it pained when he hit her, she couldn’t help but feel it deep within her genitals. Each slap reverberated up between her thighs… Hitting her vagina like a shockwave of rippling flesh and causing her clitoris to swell with want. Why? Why was she liking this?
The next slap caused her to vocalize. It was a moan she tried to conceal, but it happened none the less. A moan of pleasure, or enjoyment. It was arousing her like nothing had ever aroused her before… Her own father, her daddy. The man who had fucked her mother to create her… Was pressing his dick into her butt and masturbating himself while repeated strikes of her rear caused her to well with pleasure and new, flowing wetness.
Suddenly… It was not Sarah’s mother her father was fucking in her mind… But her. His cock forced open her waiting lips and she eagerly devoured him… Thrust after thrust. She collapsed, her legs almost going limp as her mouth hung partially open against the table and drool began to form beneath her cheek. “Mmmm.. Ohhh!” She moaned, her father’s furious masturbation picking up speed when he heard her.
“Oh god. Mmn.” Her father whispered, his hand striking her again and again without mercy or wait. And then suddenly… Release.
He raised his cock, spewing out ropes of slick, sticky cum onto her arse with each twitch. There was far more of it than Sarah could ever have wanted, but it was there anyway. It was warm against her skin, and she could feel it roaming between her cheeks and into the crack that led down towards her pussy.
As her father recovered, he grabbed one of her cheeks firmly and pressed it, kneading it with his hand. “Oh fuck.. God.. That was good,” he laughed, a devil in human skin.
Sarah was breathless… Motionless… Her father’s semen trickling down over her vagina and dripping to the floor between her feet. And then, when she thought it was over… A final slap. Directly over her pussy, on two cheeks at once and her thighs also. The pain reverberated into her womanhood, sending sparks of pleasure through her clitoris and the deepest parts of her warm, fleshy well. She was sent way over the edge with that final strike – and suddenly she was panting. Trying not to moan as each breath tore through her lungs and her entire body spasmed in the most intense orgasm she had ever had.
Minutes passed. Minutes of silence. She eventually found the daring to pull back from the table and turn to face her father, who sat there on the sofa, leaning back and apparently sleeping. His cock was still hard between his legs and semen was still dripping out of the end of his urethra.
Sarah’s face welled up with tears, and she gathered her torn clothes and walked limply towards the door. The key was in the hole, so she quietly turned it and opened the door. She stepped out into the silent, dark hall, closed the door behind her… And began to walk helplessly towards the stairs.
“I told you Sarah, you’ll always need me,” said the voice.
