The Trouble with Virgins (Daughters of Venus 2)

In the rare occasion that a girl child is born, all work will be halted, as the celebration of a new Daughter of Venus will take place. Her parents will be given the myrtle crown for her, which will be kept and given to her on her 18th birthday. Each new Dove is a dawning day.

Remember: Each new Dove is a dawning day!

Jessica’s Rise

I couldn’t sleep. It was just after dawn, I was alone in my bed, and I was wide awake. The popcorn ceiling overhead was a city of naked Romans having an orgy in the streets. My mind was racing and for some reason it was all sexual thoughts.

Why? This was the day of my eighteenth birthday. The day I’d come of age. The day the whole town would be waiting to see what I’d wear, to hear what I’d say, to find out who would want a suitor visit with me, and to find out who I might choose.

I’d heard all about suitor visi

ts.

Mmm. Just the thought of it.

Men doing all they could to prove they deserved to take care of me for the rest of my life. What could be better?

Fuck, my mind was filled with sex. I was horny. I was a virgin but I knew all about sex and couldn’t wait to finally experience it for myself.

It was a special day. I’d receive my myrtle crown and would be invited up on stage to show off my Dove-hood. I guess you could call it that. I’d only seen a couple of the ceremonies myself. The last one was five years ago so I knew the town was itching for a new Dove.

The men were eager to get their cocks wet in some new, fresh, young pussy. They all wanted a piece of my innocence. Little did they know I wasn’t all THAT innocent. Sure, I was a virgin. But I was far from pure.

The tap on the window behind me was a reminder of that. Kent was outside.

Kent Kyles, a boy only a year younger than me, had fingered my pussy two nights before. And damn that kid was good. His problem was he tried too hard. He begged almost daily to be one of my husbands. But the begging part I kind of liked.

It was 7:59 and Kent was right on time. I’d chosen the time, 8am, and although he wasn’t thrilled about waking up so early to come to my house, he knew how important it was to keep me happy on this day. He couldn’t go through the front door because for the time being I lived with one other young lady, sixteen-year-old Tilda, and a couple of the single older ladies. It definitely wouldn’t look good to be meeting a young man this early in the morning.

So I helped Kent climb through the window. He wore a pair of camouflage cargo pants and a black tank top. His tanned and muscular arms flexed as he hoisted himself through the small opening and I had to cross my legs for a second, stifling the intense tingle at my clit.

I wondered if I went ahead and fucked him if anyone would know. How would they? No, it wasn’t right. What was wrong with me? When I was fifteen I hadn’t a single sexual urge, when I was sixteen I’d enjoyed many heated make out (and a little more) sessions with Kent, but for the last few months, just knowing that I was close to my eighteenth birthday drove me mad. Now it was like I was about to be unleashed. I couldn’t wait.

Sex.

Finally.

I sat on my bed with my legs tucked under me while Kent paced back and forth across the open space at the foot of my bed. He tucked a tuft of his long blond hair behind his ear.

“I don’t like it,” he said. “You’re gonna have husbands, men pleasing you constantly. You’re not gonna wait for me. You’re gonna forget all about me…”

I drowned out his voice for a second and was overwhelmed by a feeling I’d been having lately but couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t anger. Anger required a trigger of some sort, right? Something that would have set me off?

Was it annoyance? No, not even that. Annoyance is when a fly continues to buzz around my ear or when the toilet paper is rolled under instead of over.

This was more like a longing to punish. But not because Kent was bad. I think it was something that had been growing inside me since I’d first begun my Dove prep classes. I’d sat and listened to the way things used to be. How men cheated on women. How most homes were single mother homes. And worst of all how most men reacted at the start of the new world. Women were kidnapped, stolen from their husbands. Some women were treated like slaves, put in cages, or tied up in camps for men to have their way with.

These were the thoughts going through my mind as Kent poured his heart out. I wanted him to know who was in charge.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered.

“What?” he asked.

Kent stood with his hands in his pockets, beaming back at me.

“Are you kidding? You have to go…”

“I said take off your clothes. I’m a Dove now and you’ll do as I say. Or you’ll get out.”