BEATRICE Page 14

  “At the end of the first week, immediately after each had been birched, I released Samantha, the eldest, while leaving the other two bound. Cautioning her to be silent, I bound her wrists and removed her blindfold. Blushing violently, she made to turn away from the upright majesty of the cock that awaited her, but I twisted her about to face it.”

  “You made her ask for it,” I murmured.

  “Of course.”

  Katherine's voice was husky, her eyes wild with pleading for the attentions of my tongue.

  “How crude,” I said softly and rose, looking down at her. “Katherine, draw your skirt up fully—well beneath your bottom. Good. Spread your legs more. Excellent! A delicious thatch, my sweet. Has it been watered of late?”

  Before she could reply I strode to the door and gazed back at her. She looked indeed a picture of wantonness, her breasts heaving. The tint of her thighs above her stockings was as of pale ivory. The bush of her quim was thick and luxuriant.

  “Wait!” I said coldly, quickly removing the key from the door and turning it on the other side as I went out. Unmoving she sat, the beseeching of her eyes following me.

  I hastened to Aunt Maude and told her of my immediate intentions. Her eyes glowed. “I will have him made ready,” she said, “it will take but a moment.” Summoning Maria, she told her to fetch Frederick without delay. He came as usual in his quietness—a watchfulness, I felt, that was well concealed behind a long-practised subservience.

  “You will strip,” I said. He gazed at me for a long moment as if uncertain as to whether he was to obey or not and then immediately removed his jacket. Assuring myself that there were no other servants about, I then fetched a simple, straight-backed wooden chair which I placed for him.

  In his nakedness, Frederick was a magnificent animal, perfect in physique. His cock stood a proud nine inches under the gentle manipulation of my fingers. Bidding him sit, I then had my aunt bind him tightly to the chair facing the doors.

  “You will see now to Katherine?” I asked my aunt who nodded and went out. The very mention of his mistress's name made Frederick start—not out of apprehension, I perceived, for while a dull flush spread over his clean-cut features, the rubicund knob of his penis appeared to glow even more.

  A scuffling sounded from beyond. I strode to the doors and opened them. There stood Katherine, wriggling in the stronger embrace of my aunt. Between us we hustled her within and closed the doors anew upon the little ceremony I intended.

  “Oh how dare you!” Katherine blustered, her colour rising high at the sight of her manservant whose up-quivering tool awaited her pleasure. There was no need to remove her dress. It hoisted cleanly and swiftly enough again to her hips. While Aunt Maude held her wrists I smacked her bottom hard, causing her hips to jolt and bringing a light sheen of tears into her eyes.

  “Quiet, Katherine!” I instructed coldly. “Has he not had you yet?” With every word her enforced but dragging footsteps brought the superb nudity of the lower half of her body closer to the manservant's haggard gaze. “No!” she shrieked. Her head shook wildly.

  “You will speak!” I told him. “Have you not savoured the voluptuous pleasures of her bottom, the wobbling of her lovely breasts to your lips?”

  “M . . . M'am? N . . . no. She has brought me frequently to dress her and undress her—to prepare her often for her bath—but never have my fingers been permitted to touch her adorable skin,” he stammered.

  Perhaps it was his unexpected use—indeed unheard of use for a servant—of the word “adorable” that brought a softer shriek than I had imagined would come, as Katherine was manouevred over him, legs apart, until his manly tool prodded up in waiting just beneath the pouting lips of her quim.

  “Oh! Maude! Beatrice! I beg you—no!” Katherine sobbed in what I felt was entirely theatrical effect. No doubt in her early training of the Eridge daughters she had heard them all say it in turn. Drawing Katherine's arms forward over Frederick's shoulders, my aunt continued to hold her while I—pressing my hand downwards upon her bottom—reached beneath and guided the stiff cock of a now groaning Frederick between the soft lips of her slit.

  Katherine's eyes rolled. Her head fell back, her knees trembling on either side of his as the nubbing nose of his lovestaff urged within her luscious grotto and secured its place. The rest was but a matter of a simple downward thrust on Katherine's shoulders. A low humming sound which appeared to mingle shock and pleasure trilled from her throat as her brazen bottom cheeks at last descended upon Frederick's bare knees, there to settle with a squirming, agonised motion.

  The rest was simplicity. In a trice she was bound to him, the bodice of her dress being unlaced so that his nose settled somewhat blissfully no doubt in the deep valley between the silken gourds of her tits.

  Dearly as I would have loved to have knelt down, I did not. It would have been undignified. Nevertheless, I would like to have seen—on that first occasion—the deep rooting of his cock within her and the way his balls were squashed beneath her. Her arms were secured around his neck and her ankles fastened to his. Thus she had room to manouevre her bottom up and down and would do so, I had no doubt, once they were alone, despite her sobbing protestations as Aunt Maude and I made to leave.

  “B . . . Beatrice! you cannot!” Katherine implored. Imprisoned and shafted upon him thus, she looked adorable. Her nipples already sprouted thickly, I noticed. I had no illusions that the moment we left them in this erotic stance his lips would begin nibbling at the rosy buds her exposed melons presented to him.

  “You may come in her as you wish . . . on this occasion, Frederick,” I said quietly. Then we were gone, the doors locked behind us.

  “A merriment—did you not think?” I asked Aunt Maude.

  My aunt nodded. “It will do her no harm. She has long inhibited herself in his respect, I am sure. You will not permit him to master her, though?”

  It was an unnecessary question, as her eyes told me. There were permutations into which I had not yet entered nor thought to enter.

  “I shall make her Mistress of the Robes,” I said, and laughed. We placed our ears to the door briefly and caught their muffled moanings. “She will speak not a word to him out of pride,” I said, “and neither will he dare address her despite the fact that he has her plugged. An almost perfect conjunction, I think. She may punish him later, at her wish, of course. I shall permit that. They will enjoy that also—both of them.”

  “You have grown in your knowings,” Aunt Maude replied.

  “Of course,” I said pertly. The exercise had given me a heady feeling of conquering without cruelty—the path I was thereafter to follow in all my knowings. Eight persons out of ten have a willingness to submit in the right circumstances and guided by the right hands. Therein is a safety for them. They are led—permitted. In their enforcement are they permitted. I had moved beneath the sea and raised my skirts. The water had lapped me. A tongue had lapped me. Fishes had nibbled at my garters.

  I would have a dozen pairs of gloves of the finest kid, reaching to my elbows, I told my aunt. The idea of the very sensuousness of their touch communicated itself to her immediately. She would have her glove-maker bring them she said. They would be extremely close-fitting. “Their come will bubble over your fingers,” she smiled. “When I wish it,” I said. “Come—I want you on the rocking horse.”

  Aunt Maude stepped back. “I?” She jerked, but my hand already had her elbow. “Do you mean it, Beatrice?” I had no need to answer. Her docility came as from one who had half expected it. Stockinged and booted, but otherwise naked, she looked superb. Her figure had a rubbery firmness in all its outcurving aspects. Mounted on the horse, she stretched her bottom back brazenly, her slit gleaming juicily.

  I accorded her no pleasure other than three dozen biting flicks of the whip. The enforced bending of her knees—together with the orbing of her bottom—as she fought to keep her heels dug into the stirrups, provided the very aspect of eroticism I had long envisaged of my
self.

  There would be a small platform in future behind the horse so that the male could mount it at the appropriate moment and insert his penis while he gripped the weaving hips.

  At my command.

  I would have it so. There would be no exercises nor entertainments nor merriments beyond my seeing or control.

  I had entered my domain.

  EIGHTEEN

  IT was a full forty minutes before I released Katherine land drew her up. Her nipples were rigid, her breasts swollen. Following me in with a distinctly awkward gait after the whipping I had accorded her, my aunt released Frederick and motioned him to dress in a side room.

  “How many times, Katherine?” I asked softly, passing my hand down between her thighs. The abundance of his sperm made itself felt soapily between her thighs. Some had trickled down and rilled into the ridged tops of her stockings.

  Burying her hot face into my shoulder, Katherine mumbled something I could not catch. It would not do. I lifted her reluctant face, watching the sly messengers of pleasure endeavouring to scurry into hiding behind her eyes.

  “He came twice at least, I trust?” I asked sternly. Again she wanted to conceal her face but I would not permit it.

  Katherine nodded. I had yet to learn myself that it is one of the most satisfying positions, squatted face to face upon a man's thighs. “Yes,” she averred thickly. “Beatrice, I must . . .

  “Punish him? Of course—at your pleasure,” I interrupted. An exceedingly pretty half laugh broke from her lips, accompanied by a small, emerging “Oh!” that had all the colour and perfume of a budding rose. I drew her dress down as a mother might with a child and soothed her hips.

  “You will not make me again?” she asked. The invitation was so blatant that I all but laughed.

  “Obedience is necessary at all times, Katherine,” I replied softly and kissed her brow. It was damp still with her exertions as were her peachlike bottom cheeks which held a faint mist of moisture between them. It would have pleasured me distinctly then to have guided another manroot into her bottom while holding her down beneath my arm. Perhaps she read the wish in my eyes for she simpered and pressed into me.

  “I should never . . .” she began. I knew her intention. It was to apologise to me for what had gone before. Perhaps she thought I had come in disguise to test her.

  “You may have Jenny as a handmaid—for today, Katherine.”

  I moved away quickly and left her. She would have had me stay, I felt—perhaps to afford her some obscure sense of comforting. One must keep one's distance, however. I had turned her about neatly and left her, so to speak, with one foot in midair. My immediate concern was with Amanda. She had dallied long in the garden with Caroline. Nevertheless, their would-be pleasing efforts were evident from the array of blooms which stood on the kitchen table.

  Maria was adjusting some of them. She gazed at me rather shyly as I entered.

  “You are happy, Maria?” I asked. The bloom of health seemed indeed to be upon her. I had a certain taste for the voluptuousness of her curves which her deliberately tight and abbreviated costume enhanced. She nodded. A veil of uncertainty was in her eyes. Her fingers flustered at the flowers. There was a new ring on her finger, I noticed. It was one of no great account. My uncle had given it to her, I guessed. On my questioning her, she confessed it.

  “He mounted you, Maria?”

  The question was so direct that she knew not what to answer. A tiny bubble of saliva appeared between her lips which were richly curved but smallish.

  “As Frederick did in the stable, Maria?” I insisted. Beneath her black skirt I could envisage the ripeness of her cheeks in their waiting.

  “My husband don't know, M'am,” she stammered.

  “Answer the questions, Maria,” I said softly and stayed her hands from their toying with the stalks of the blooms. Her palms were moist.

  “I was ashamed, M'am,” she choked. The expression in her eyes was ill-disguised. It followed not the twisting of her lips. She would lend herself, I sensed, to whatever I intended.

  “Did you buck or struggle, Maria?” I gripped the bun of her hair which was coiled up with hairpins. One loosened and fell between my fingers.

  “No, M'am, I daren't. Miss Katherine she had the whip, in the stable, and the Mistress she warned me not to move afterwards when I was in the dining room over the table.”

  I was but half listening. Though not indolent, she was learning her pleasures in the sly way known to such women. An occasional protest cleared her conscience, as she saw it. Her husband, she said, was a good man, a quiet man, like herself nearing thirty. He worked as a farm labourer.

  I released her hair.

  “You will come shortly into my service, Maria—as also your husband. There will be work for him to do around the house. I am having a site cleared for stables. You may perhaps be my Stable Mistress, and it so please me. You have learned a little of the handling of females and you are acquiescent. You will learn under my instructions.”

  I doubted whether she knew the meaning of “acquiescent” any more than she would have recognised a five-pound note. I have since given field-girls a guinea piece for their intended services and seen them gaze at it in wonder.

  Words unspoken danced upon Maria's lips. From the brief description she had given me of her husband, Ned, he would be amply able to service both Caroline and Jenny when required. Maria—given over to such pleasures as I occasionally permitted her—would soon grow used to it.

  Amanda I called within. Lolling upon a rug on the lawn, Caroline stared at me in some wonder. I gave her a smile. “Later,” I called. It would comfort her for a while. In my uprising was her safety, as she knew. The memory of being bound to her in our nudities was still one of my sweetest. We would play games of remembrance, perhaps. I would find a way. She would become my favourite handmaiden, an adored one. In the attic would be laughter again. I would brush her hair and fondle and pat her bottom, coaxing. In her shaftings would be the whisperings of sunhazed lust. The bees' wings on the windowsill would stir. I would make colours to enchant her eyes. Filled and fulfilled she would be led down the ladder again, her legs in their slimness—sweet uncovered still. The gold between her thighs would glint with sperm. In her richness.

  “Is there richness, Amanda?” I asked. Knowing not, she did not answer. There was awkwardness in her gait as I led her up. Her small, tight bottom was attended to daily and yet still it jerked skittishly at the first stroke of leather or birch.

  In my bedroom I stilled Amanda with my hand and made her stand, feet together, while I sat on the bed.

  “This will be your first new exercise—to stand still on command. Will you do so, Amanda, if you are no longer caged or birthed?”

  She nodded, an arising of hope in her eyes.

  “What is it you seek?” I asked. “There will be the strap still.”

  “I do not know,” she mumbled. In my intuitions she was a relatively poor subject, though I knew not why. Rising, I moved around her and passed my hand up beneath her skirt to see whether or not she would flinch. She did not. I urged my thumb against her rosehole. Aunt Maude inserted the dildo twice daily in her now. It had improved her, I noticed. A tiny assenting movement of her bottom made itself felt against my thumb.

  “You do not mind the strap?” I asked. I moved the ball of my thumb up and down between the elastic cheeks.

  Amanda shook her head in a manner that was at least uncertain. Perhaps she feared to say no—or perhaps pride held her back. There was a possibility by now that she had begun to accept it with a surprised sense of pleasures—the stinging a challenge.

  “Raise your dress, Amanda, and tuck it in about your waist. Feet together, hands at sides. Good. You will stand so when you are told. It will be a further exercise. Your thighbands—should they not be of silver now? Have you earned them?”

  “I have been good.” Her lips quivered. Was she aware to what she had replied? I thought of the house from which we had l
ed her here. The gloom of the rooms—the latticed windows too small. Male hands that had quavered briefly about our breasts.

  “Silver,” I repeated. I ran my fingers around the metal bands. “He is a jeweller, is he not? Would you not prefer silver?”

  “I suppose.” The dull tone of her voice had the lustreless feel of the back of a dry spoon run over the tongue.

  “Then it shall be,” I told her. Her eyes moved not. Could Aunt Maude have handled her differently, to a better end? I felt certain not. The curls about her pubic mount were tight and neat, trimmed straight across the top as my own had been. The curve of her belly was very slight, her breasts gelatinous and firm. I would have written messages on her mind save that in reading them she would not comprehend them. In two or three years perhaps she would be betrothed. Her eyes would move with vagueness through her days. Men would kiss her and bed her. She would respond with a vacuousness that would disappoint all save the lust-seekers.

  He who was to mount her and fashion the broad rings of silver for her thighs would be such. They were mere oddments of people—of no account. Had there at least been slyness in her I could have used it, wended it within my wendings, eased tunnels of discovery.

  By seven that evening, after the despatch of Frederick as messenger, the jeweller arrived. His eyes were haggard with expectancy.

  “So soon?” he asked me. His eyes held querulous dismay that I, who had permitted my breasts to be fondled by him, should now have taken charge.

  “Amanda waits upstairs,” I replied. Doffing his hat and cloak he accompanied me in some evident wondering, which I uttered no words to satisfy. At the turn of the stairs that led to the caging room I halted for a moment. “It shall be as I say. You will do all that I say. You will not speak unless I request it. Otherwise a delicate balance will be disturbed. Thereafter you may take her back. You will find her acquiescent. There is but one thing more,” I added, leading him in.