THERE IS an element of glee, I do confess, in warming up a young lady’s bottom, particularly when she is fey or shy. Men are so rarely dab hands in this sort of exercise, for their enthusiasm for a different kind of sport soon overtakes them. The exercise brings up the cock and swells the balls and ere she knows it and before her bottom is brought to proper condition, the female is plugged or corked or reamed.
I am using here of course terms that I learned later. My stepmother told me that there was a wondrous gleam in my eyes as I stung dear Clarissa’s bottom, perhaps enjoying doing so the more for knowing that her ardent cheeks had not been so treated before. Upon receiving the first, her head shot up but quickly was pushed down again. Firmness in such initiations is all.
SPER-LATT! I smacked a second time, the roundness of the paddle covering almost two-thirds of her bottom and bringing a rare shade of pink to the cheeks.
“The left cheek, then the right, then full across her orb, and then beneath,” I was instructed.
How privileged I was to be so taught and with such an elegantly-formed pupil as Clarissa! Her face turned violently from side to side, my stepmother permitting the movement but ever keeping her palm clamped over the girl’s mouth. My strokes beneath, coming up under her bulge, were not so effectual for I had not yet learned the particular and subtle wrist movements that since are second nature to me. A certain cushioning of air prevents the paddle by its very nature from belabouring too hard and yet it has a perfect sting and at the same time affords s deep sensation of heat.
Tears rolled from Clarissa’s eyes over my stepmother’s fingers as she strove by wild undulations of her hips and bottom to evade the strokes. As so often in such moments, a chance swinging of her hips would often bring her nearest bumcheek in perfect contact with the leather and so she was stung the more.
“Now, darling, three beneath. Bring them up well,” I was told.
Clarissa’s rounded derriere was by then a bright pink and merging into red. This time I measured the angle of the paddle and brought it up well, causing her to reach right up on to her toes under the impelling sweep of the paddle. “GAR-HAAAAR.!” I heard her choke at each one and saw her burning cheeks contract and then relax. A nod from my mentor and I dropped the paddle. I wanted dearly to kiss those heated hemispheres and my stepmother could not miss the fact, so gave yet another nod and a little smile. Her lips distinctly formed the words, “Feuille de rose!”
Enchanted and quite unable to resist, I fell silently to my knees behind the sobbing girl so that her luscious bottom loomed before my face. How violently she bucked when first she felt my lips! My stepmother, anticipating the movement, pressed her free hand firmly down into the small of sweet Clarissa’s back and so restrained her movement, though her hot bum still bumped agreeably to my nose.
Thereupon I grasped her cheeks and, thumbing within her groove on both sides, drew the plump elastic halfmoons just so far apart that her crinkled orifice came into my view. I heard the snorting of her breath though her nostrils, delved my tongue and found her coy, tight hole, Twirling my tongue, I felt a sense of ecstasy as the rimmed ridge came to my touch. What a mйlange of scents I experienced-that heady odor di feminina of which only the most knowing and subtle think to write! Then perhaps in that moment the true meaning of feuille, or leaf, came to me and I curled my tongue upwards on both sides like a leaf that has drawn up its edges, and worked it tight within.
“THOOOOOO!” I heard Clarissa whine.
“Very delicately, dear, just back and forth. Reach in as far as you can,” I then was told.
Again and again Clarissa’s bottom bumped my face, but I held her. Then, reaching up one hand, though not instructed to, I felt her quim, its softness, its rolled lips, its moistness. Running my forefinger between the oily cleft I sought her spot and there rubbed gently as my stepmother had done to Sarah.
“NEEE-UUUMPH!” Clarissa exploded, yet her most intimate parts were divulging secrets that her mind would not. Her legs began to tremble as I circled my fingertip and felt her bud erect itself the more. My tongue squirmed in her bottomhole, drew out and then invaded once again. At that her bottom began to rotate a little rather than to rebel, and of course my stepmother was watching like a hawk her every move. The urgings of Clarissa’s hips were a little more womanly now rather than merely childish. The bulging flesh of her bottom glowed to my face and her exudations were becoming excitingly sticky. The breath rattled in her throat.
“All right,” my stepmother snapped. She sensed exactly, it seemed, when Clarissa might come on and spill her dew. I had been about, in fact, to delve my face up right between her thighs and bring her fur upon my mouth. A little disappointed that this final pleasure had not been afforded me, I rose, quivering with excitement, while with a sudden movement my stepmother swung Clarissa up into a standing position and whirled her around so that their bodies bumped together, face to face.
“Now, my dear, you will be quiet,” came in a steely tone.
“You… you… you…” moaned Clarissa wildly, her skirts still wreathed up and her bottom a perfect glory of pink and white.
“Yes, I-I, Julia,” came my stepmother’s response and with that she dragged the young woman’s head back and forced her to stare full into her eyes. Even as I had been, Clarissa appeared mesmerised, her chin gripped commandingly and one hand cupped beneath her naked bottom.
“Go, Clara-I will bring her down in a moment,” I was told. Disappointment showed clear in my expression yet I did unquestioningly as I was told. There are moments, as I learned, when there should be no witnesses to what is said or done. Descending to the drawing room, I felt an air of awkwardness obtaining.
“What is to do?” Sarah asked me rather pertly, though I could have sworn that she knew very well what was to do, for some scuffling at least must have made itself heard.
“Clarissa is being tutored,” I said casually and gave her a slightly cold look for asking so open a question. A silence then obtained as if no one knew what to say, all minds being busy above stairs, so to speak. “Will the gentleman not have more wine?” I asked and then in a sharper tone than I intended, said to Robert, “See, please, to his glass.”
Clarissa’s guardian cleared his throat, his eyes not being above perusing both Sarah’s breasts and thighs as well as my own. It was the first command, if it could be called such, that I had ever given to my brother, he being more used to ordering me about, and I was no doubt as much surprised as he when without question he rose to oblige, not so much out of courtesy I felt as at receiving an order from a female. Going to the sideboard, he obtained the bottle and was in mid-stride with it when our stepmother appeared leading Clarissa, who looked unconscionably pale.
“That will not be needed, Robert,” we were told. My brother then stared from her to me and then back to my stepmother, which I was vaguely pleased at, as though he were caught between two fires. Being urged forward gently, Clarissa sat in a chair neighbouring that of her guardian. We were then as an audience might be that waits the rising of the curtain. The bottle was replaced upon the sideboard.
“An air of expectancy reigns,” my stepmother smiled. Totally in command of us as she was, she took the centre of the floor so that we gazed on her as pupils do a Mistress. Her words were cleverly put, for no one could comment upon them. She waited a moment as if daring one or another to do so and then clapped her hands, making us jump, or making at least myself jump. At that Bertha appeared, dangling the little whip in her hand, and with her a tall, slim youth close to Robert’s age whom I had seen about their cottage on the estate. I knew him as a labourer but upon this occasion he wore what might have been styled his Sunday best-narrow black trousers and a white shirt.
“Excellent,” my stepmother said and, while all looked a trifle apprehensive as Bertha turned the key in the lock, went on blandly, “We now have three males to three females here. Of them all perhaps Charlie is the better trained, for you have seen to him well, have you not, Bertha?”
“That I have, m’am. He’s allowed a sniff or two around me but no more than that if you don’t count his queenings.”
The meaning of that last word being unknown to me, I sat fair still. Sarah and Clarissa had turned into statues. Robert was transfixed. As for Clarissa’s guardian, he made play at first to be intrinsically interested in a tidying of his cravat.
“Yes,” my stepmother said. She crooked her finger and the young man approached, looking neither wary nor nervous but as one in a dream who is hailed to step towards a goddess. “Do you like it, Charlie? Do you like what is done to you?” was asked him softly.
He shuffled thereat, seeming not to be able to meet her eyes-or wishing so much to do so that he did not dare. “I have my obediences, m’am,” he murmured, the statement producing a broad smile from my stepmother who, turning, asked of us, “You see? One here at least knows his obediences, as you all shall. Robert-you will lie down in the centre of the floor as will Charlie. Head to feet I will have you, and about a foot apart.”
I heard Sarah swallow. Clarissa shifted in her chair. No sooner were the words spoken, however, than Charlie slid down on to his back and I saw now the reason why my stepmother had disposed of so many oddments of furniture. There was room for all to move. Robert was hesitating, but a further snapped command brought him up. He moved stiffly, shaking not a little and then laid himself down in the manner ordained so that his head came level with Charlie’s feet. At that, Bertha moved into the room and came closer to my stepmother, so that I knew a further drama was to ensue. All eyes were on her whip.
Clarissa’s guardian made as though to rise and then sank down again. “I think…” he began.
“You may indeed do that but be quiet about it,” came the cold reply. “I will have no arrogance of male wishes here. Think you that you have come to a playground for your lusts, or a brothel? Has he learned to dip?” my stepmother asked of Bertha, inclining her eyes towards Charlie who lay quiet and supine, his fingers clenched, as did Robert.
“Full well he has, m’am, and keeps it there long minutes when he is called to.”
“Good. The art is one that Robert has to learn, but soon now shall. Sarah, Clarissa-get up!”
“Oh! can I not go upstairs?” Sarah wailed.
“Later, my dear, when you are fit and ready for it. Stand forward both of you and side by side. Bertha-tie their hands. I will have no nonsenses.”
“Mama! I beg you!” cried my sister, but Bertha was already bustling past her to the sideboard where-all having evidently been prepared in advance-several lengths of cord were to be found. A quavering “No!” came from Sarah who stared over her shoulder at what was revealed, whereat my stepmother, advancing on the pair, seized both their chins and all but barked, “Heads up! Look straight ahead! Hands behind your backs!”
Sarah began to cry. I expected her to. Clarissa paled but did not struggle, In a trice they were bound with arms behind them. The young lady’s guardian appeared as one spellbound.
“P… p… please do not whip us,” Sarah burst, and was ignored.
“Draw their dresses up and wreath them to their hips, Clara.”
“NO!” came a screaming cry from both, yet all was done in a flash and Sarah-having no drawers on and Clarissa’s evidently being left upstairs-both stood with bellies, pussies, bare, and thighs unveiled. Their heads hung. How sweetly desolate they stood!
“Sir-you will sit upright and upon this chair,” Bertha then said, bringing forward a plain wooden one with straight arms. Her words were of course directed to Clarissa’s guardian who looked as dumbstruck as a man might be.
“Look here, I say!” he expostulated, but at that my stepmother moved quickly to him and so grasped his hair at the back of his head that he cried out and flailed his arms, though not daring to strike her.
“UP! UP!” she spat, whereat like a craven schoolboy he allowed himself to be raised (I swear with tears starting in his eyes at the way she tugged) and was rapidly flopped down into the plain deal chair to which Bertha then swiftly tied his wrists and then his ankles which were secured to the legs of the chair. His knees thus being drawn apart, he looked a total prisoner.
“M… M… Madam, if I had known!” he spluttered, whereat my stepmother wheeled on him, her face a perfect fury and her half-veiled breasts rising and falling.
“Had known what? That you might take Clarissa’s drawers down and pummel her at pleasure with your prick? Does your wife know of such tricks? Be silent, sir, and observe.”
My surprise was no less great than that of Sarah and Clarissa who both peeped up from their shameful stance and then dropped their heads again.
“Very well, to their queenings,” my stepmother said. Very gravely then she removed her gown as did Bertha who-plumper than she-was still well modelled in her fulsome curves. My heavens, what a sight! Both were corseted and tightly so, their breasts full bulging naked over rims of lace, nipples erect upon the ripe and creamy mounds. Arrogantly their bottoms moulded full into their directoire drawers whose crinkled legs were tightly spanned about their thighs.
“Make them look up, Clara. Hold their heads back!” my stepmother ordained so that I-a minor Mistress in my realm-stepped behind my sister and Clarissa, drawing on their hair and doing so, whereat both cried out and Sarah would have spat at me if she could.
“I h… h… hate you, Clara!” she hissed but was heard and received a sharp smack on her bottom from my stepmother who stepped forward and intruded her hand between us. “Oh-woh-woh!” Sarah sobbed and writhed her hips.
This done and all settled, as it were, there began what seemed to me on this first occasion to be a most bizarre ceremony. Moving to the two prone males and standing imperiously astride their forms, Bertha lowered her knickered bottom full over Charlie’s face while Robert received the same salute from our stepmother. I held my breath, wondering what they were at, and had no doubt that both Sarah and Clarissa were staring equally with wide-open eyes. Within seconds those two closely-sheathed moons had settled firmly upon the mouths and noses of the young males, Robert giving a great start but his companion remaining docile.
Down they thrust and there settled, knees fully bent and hands on hips while all sorts of splutterings and gaspings came from beneath. My stepmother wriggled a little and then settled herself even more firmly, as did Bertha, a look of utter triumph and pleasure on their faces.
This then was “queening,” when the female so subjugates the male in shameless fashion and asserts her full authority over him by thrusting the most “shameful” part of her anatomy over his face, keeping it there the while that he gasps for breath and with his nose thrust up between the plump, splayed cheeks. Each facing the feet of her “victim,” the two women stayed so for a full minute while great puffing sounds were heard from Robert and Charlie. Then, leaning forward, fingers found the young men’s trouser buttons, flicked them open one by one and displayed to our eyes the already stiff bananas of their pricks.
“OH-WOH-WOH,” Sarah sobbed again at that and would have swayed had I not held her hair. Truly, I was most impatient with her, for the cocks-being of almost the same size and with foreskins drawn back and knobs displayed-looked most beautiful. Were they to be milked now? No. Having so revealed the shameless excitation they had caused, both the illustrious females then sat up again-for so I thought of them even though Bertha was of lowly social rank. The suspenders of both strained twixt stocking tops and corsets, thus somehow giving to the view an even lewder appearance of voluptuousness.
“GAAAAAR!” choked Robert in most muffled fashion. He was clearly at the end of his tether and even his neck becoming purple. Aware of this, my stepmother lifted her bottom an inch or two clear of his face and instructed him quietly to lick at her crotch and all else he could find with his tongue.
Sucking in his breath and flooding it out again, how eagerly he did it! Despite the ardent titillation, however, she remained perfectly still as did Bertha who had the same performed on her. Their eyelashes fluttered a little as though in token of the pleasure they were receiving from their “slaves”-for such I later knew males often to be called. Their crotches grew distinctly moist so that by peering closely between the shoulders of Sarah and Clarissa I was able to see how the rolled lips of their cunnies then impressed themselves through the fine material of their drawers, no doubt maddening their “slaves” the more.
My stepmother breathed deeply then as though controlling her excitement. I had seen my brother put under her, as had Sarah. It was such a demonstration as we never could have dreamed of. I sensed the power of Woman then in all its majesty and my heart beat the faster. I was translated into a new world where Woman was the Queen and her “King” but subject to her bottom’s weight.
Bertha rose first. There was a certain look in her eye that betokened something else.
I was soon to learn-as were Sarah and Clarissa-what it was to be.