Hirts Hall Back to T Back to main page

Collected by Djian
update sep 12 - 2010

Another story by Surtea | stories

M/F, humil, bdsm, daughter, historical

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Hirst Hall
By Surtea - 2010

surtea@live.co.uk

This is a story for adults – if you are not an adult or cannot tell fantasy from reality please read something else.

Synopsis – A lady agrees to a marriage but, sooner rather than later, comes to regret it.

Author’s note: I am trying to write this as a story set in Georgian times. Feel free to point out any glaring anachronisms you may find. I will however use sexual terms more in use in the current time than then. This is because I do not find archaic terms stimulating and I write for my own amusement as well as (hopefully) yours. You will probably read echoed themes from a number of places: Viddler’s ‘My Bare Lady’ and Erich Von Gotha’s ‘Janice’ spring to mind amongst others.

Chapter 15 – In which my daughter and I come to terms with our position.

The following morning saw the four of us at breakfast. It might have been an everyday repast at any great house except that my daughter was sat there with her little breasts framed by her bust-line rather than hidden by it. I was determined to fight back.

“Georgina, I think we should go riding this morning.” I made it sound as decided as possible.

“Lady Dalrymple, I was hoping to sketch Miss Georgina this morning,” Miss Hailsham countered politely.

“I should like to have my daughter for half of every day, Miss Hailsham,” and I looked to Sir Thomas for support.

“That seems reasonable,” he replied equitably. “Miss Hailsham. I assume you can sketch in the afternoon as well as in the morning?”

“Yes, Sir Thomas.” She was again as polite as one might expect from any governess.

“Well, then that is settled. Miss Hailsham, each morning you will ask Lady Caroline which half of the day she desires to have Miss Georgina for. The other part she is at your disposal for your tutoring.”

“But Mama, I cannot go riding like this,” Georgina said quietly, looking down at her exposed bosom and half-naked legs.

“Your mother has,” Sir Thomas said happily, “but, as I know she prefers to ride astride and will no doubt wish you to do the same, you may have a long skirt. But your pretty chest will remain bare till you have earned your proper clothes back.”

“Yes, Sir Thomas,” my poor little girl said humbly.

“We must make sure you are ready for Lord Llanbedr when he comes,” my husband continued.

“Ready?” I queried. “How so, husband?”

“Well a lady should always have a plan for how to ensure her husband is run to ground,” he said conversationally.

“Many years ago, I spent a season up in London having a wild time.”

I rolled my eyes, having heard these tales just days before. He noticed and grinned.

“Well, wife, at the end of the season I was summoned back to Hirst Hall. My father had decided it was time for his son and heir to marry. The House was not ten years finished and our new wealth from Green Mountain was on full display. The number of desirable young ladies was pleasantly large and I spent an enjoyable summer playing the eligible bachelor. There were ladies from excellent families and ladies with wealth and ladies with beauty. Never, it seemed, all three together though.

“Sometime in August a small Welsh beauty appeared at one of our house parties. While she was undoubtedly attractive, she was neither from a great family nor of any particular wealth. She teased me quite unmercifully, both in the sense of flaunting her beauty and of making fun of my rather pompous young maleness. I could not decide whether I loathed her or was attracted to her.

“Then one day young Anne and I were having a picnic with others in the sunken garden south of the orangery. It was a warm day and she’d had a little more to drink than was her wont. I saw my opportunity and invited her to explore a small wilderness nearby. While there she slipped tipsily and fell against me. I kissed her before she had any chance to resist. I remember her smiling at me and shyly kissing me back. Then she slid to her knees, undid my breaches and took out my cock. In her drunkenness she not only kissed it and licked it, she sucked it and finally swallowed the entire thing. Not even the whores in London had done that. And when I came, which as you can imagine took mere moments, she swallowed it all. Then saying nothing she buttoned up my britches and took me back to the others. I was so dazed I think she led me like the prize bull in a harvest fair parade.

“The next day she professed eternal shame at her behaviour and anger that I had taken advantage of her inebriation. There was no way that she would even be alone with me again. I, in turn, was desperate for her and obsessed to the point of unreason. We were engaged within the week and married in two months. It was not till our wedding night that she confessed that she had never been very drunk and that swallowing my cock had been the most exciting thing she had ever done which she proved by repeating the performance. And she confessed that I was far from the first, though she did alleviate the shock of her deception by telling me I was the biggest.

“When much later I had my revenge by humiliating her in public, I discovered that Anne found that every bit as exciting as sucking cocks. In fact during our entire marriage I was never sure who was in control. I felt myself the lord of the manor but always wondered if I were dancing to my lady’s tune. So, Miss Georgina, you must find your own way of ensuring Lord Llanbedr is well and truly hooked, landed and gaffed!”

“But I don’t...,” began Georgina before trailing off.

“Miss Hailsham will help you,” said Sir Thomas, “and your mother probably has some ideas too. Now I must go to the estate office.”

“We will go riding this morning, Miss Hailsham,” I immediately asserted, “as soon as Georgina’s dress has had a proper skirt stitched onto it. Would you care to join us?” I was interested to hear her response.

“That would be very kind, Lady Caroline. I should enjoy that.”

And it was indeed a lovely ride once Georgina had got over the embarrassment of riding with her breasts exposed. I carefully kept to the quieter parts of the estate and young Ralph kept a discreet distance ahead and twice warned us of estate labourers so we could turn to one side. Miss Hailsham was a better horsewoman than I expected, having heard that she was brought up in London. She applied herself to riding with the intense determination she seemed to put into her drawing and her other duties.


That afternoon I sat and read for a while and then tried to write a letter. My mind, though, kept drifting to what might or might not be happening in the old nursery. Eventually I could stand it no longer and went to investigate. With trepidation I quietly opened the door to the room steeling myself against what I might see.

Georgina was sat in the window seat, angled so that the afternoon sun was catching her body. She reclined comfortably against cushions and had her face turned to look out at the westerly view across the park. She was quite naked. Her legs were drawn up so that her feet were beside her bottom and her knees were spread apart, leaving her sex spread open. This openness was enhanced because the fingers of both her hands had peeled open and were holding apart the lips of her sex. Not just the outer ones but the inner ones too. Her sex was so opened that one could actually see her hole. Her little bud was stiff and her pink flesh glistened with a sheen of wetness. Clearly she was somewhat excited by keeping this wanton pose.

Very close to Georgina sat Miss Hailsham on a small stool with a sketchpad in one hand and a pencil in the other. She was concentrating on sketching my daughter. Except that she wasn’t sketching all of her, she was only drawing her open sex. It was there on the paper, larger than life-sized and in amazing detail. I would have been impressed at the quality of the work had it been of a more normal subject.

At that moment the draught from the open door must have alerted them. Georgina glanced over from the view, clearly expecting Eliza or Mrs. Jones. It wasn’t till her eyes opened wide in surprise at seeing me that she released her hold on her sex. Instead she swiftly covered herself with the same hands.

Miss Hailsham having seen me too, turned back to Georgina. “Now, Georgie, what have I told you about not changing your pose unless I tell you to?”

“But, Miss, it’s my mother...” Georgina sounded nervous and shocked.

“Yes, I know Lady Caroline is your mother. However while during half the day you are to be the dutiful daughter, during the other half you are my pupil. Now spread yourself wide again. Show us how sticky you are.” Her tone was both teasing and authoritative.

Slowly Georgina spread her sex open again. The poor girl was now blushing a shade of pink that almost matched the rosy hue of her innermost flesh. It was hard not to notice though that the inner folds of her sex were if anything moister than before.

“Please mother, please don’t stay...” she begged me in desperate tones.

I hesitated.

“But perhaps Lady Caroline would like to see our sketches from the last week?” There was a distinctly mocking and challenging undertone to Miss Hailsham’s voice.

“Very well,” I managed, determined not just to flee, “I would like to see your work. I take it there are drawings by Georgina as well as of her?”

“Oh yes, your ladyship.” Miss Hailsham replied. “If you just give me a couple of minutes to finish this study of your daughter’s pretty pink cunt, then we can show you our sketches.”

I knew she had used the word just to shock me but I stood my ground and closed the door behind me. Georgina was once again looking out the window and I could see a solitary tear running down the cheek nearest me. She was clearly humiliated, upset and excited all at the same time. Why did I not derive any pleasure from being displayed? Lady Anne and my daughter both did.

I could see that the drawing was complete apart from the final details of the blonde curls on my daughter’s mound and indeed in a few minutes time they too were detailed in.

“Well done, Georgie, all finished. You deserve your kiss now.” Miss Hailsham put down her sketchpad and leant towards Georgina, who shrank back against the cushions.

“No, please Miss, not in front of my mother...” Georgina sounded quite desperate.

“No? No reward then? Very well, let us show off our drawings. I’ll ring for tea first.” And she stood up and went to ring the bell pull by the mantelpiece.

My daughter’s tear-pricked blue eyes followed her every movement. She was still in her open pose on the window seat, but her fingers had at least released their spreading grip. “But Miss, I want it... Oh, please Mother, please leave for one minute. Please?”

I just stood there, irresolute and confused.

“No, Georgie, it is not polite to ask guests to leave the room,” continued Miss Hailsham firmly. “You have earned your kiss, now do you want it? I would like an affirmative or negative response. No more silliness.”

“Oh please... Please Miss...,” Georgina’s gaze was on her governess but it kept flicking to me. She was now pinker than ever. “Please, Miss, p... please m... may I have my kiss? Oh, God...”

“Why of course you may,” said Miss Hailsham sweetly, “you deserve it for posing so nicely.”

She approached Georgina who had not moved upon the seat. I did not know whether to run or stay. I knew that if

I left I would have lost some of my pride before this strange young governess.

Miss Hailsham took my daughter’s face in her hands and began to kiss her. Not chastely, but passionately and hungrily. If there had been any remaining doubts as to my little girl’s tastes they vanished at that moment. She melted as her tutor’s urgent tongue quested its way into her mouth. Her hands came up to meet on the back of Miss Hailsham’s head, gently running over the bun of brown hair. That she loved the woman was clear, whether it was infatuation or something deeper I did not know.

Soon the governess’ head moved downwards and began to kiss Georgina’s hard nipples. The woman actually managed to suck the entirety of my girl’s breasts into her mouth, first one side and then the other.

Georgina was moaning now, head thrown back, mouth open and eyes screwed shut. I am not sure she even knew I was there anymore.

Miss Hailsham moved again, leaving a wet trail of saliva across Georgina’s belly as she went. When she reached her target she kissed it, and then licked it before finally sucking the entire little bud into her mouth.

“Waah!” Georgina convulsed, shoving her sex upwards into the other woman’s mouth. She groaned in evident climax. It seemed to go on forever as Miss Hailsham refused to relinquish her lips’ grip on the morsel of flesh.

Was that what it looked like when I reached my peak in the Yellow Salon before everyone? I had no need to touch myself to know that I was damp below my waist. It is not that I am attracted to women; it is just that the scene before me was so undeniably, intensely sexual. I also confirmed for me that I liked to watch others have sexual relations. For reasons I do not understand it excites me.

Finally Miss Hailsham raised her face, shiny with wetness, from my daughter’s sex. Poor Georgina lay upon the cushions gasping for breath.

“What do you say, Georgie?” The governess was teasing now.

“Thank you, Miss, thank you for my kiss,” the girl whispered back.

“Come then, let’s show your mother our hard work!” And Miss Hailsham sounded suddenly like the young

woman she was under that entirely perverse teacher personality. She wanted to show off her artistic abilities as much as anyone.

The tea arrived, brought by Eliza in her short uniform. Her eyes widened as she saw me there.

Miss Hailsham arranged me on the sofa and placed a table before me. Eliza laid out tea upon another. Georgina, still naked and with her flush slowly subsiding went about helping get all the drawings out. She and her tutor huddled together by the window seat deciding on and arranging the pictures. They made an incongruous sight: one short and fully dressed the other utterly naked with her long legs, fair hair and willowy figure.

Occasionally Georgina would shake her head and whisper, “Not that one, please Miss?”

“Of course that one, it shows you so well!” Miss Hailsham would whisper back.

As they were about ready, the door opened and Sir Thomas strode in.

“Mrs. Jones told me you were all up here,” he boomed. “All that sun streaming in, perfect place for tea.”

The two young women whirled round. Georgina flushed pink once more as Sir Thomas looked her nudity up and down quite blatantly. Miss Hailsham curtseyed and a moment later so did her charge.

“We were about to look at some of our drawings, Sir Thomas. Does that sound agreeable?” Miss Hailsham enquired politely. Georgina just turned pinker.

“Capital!” And he came and sat close beside me on the settee. “Pour the tea, please, Eliza. And Eliza, if I hear that you have been insolent with my wife one more time, I’ll have you buggered. In public. Is that clear?”

“Yes Sir Thomas. I am so sorry, Sir. Your ladyship, it won’t happen again.” The girl was in tears and I suddenly felt sorry for her. She looked so vulnerable with her breasts half-out and her legs bare below the knee.

I felt my husband’s thigh pressed against mine through my dress. I shivered as his presence had its customary effect on me. This was going to be difficult.

The first sketch was of Miss Hailsham’s head and was by Georgina. It was half-finished and showed a good hand but without the governess’ manifest talents.

“This is the sketch that Miss Georgina was making of me the first afternoon,” Miss Hailsham explained, “after you left on your trip. It is unfinished because I asked her if she were attracted to women and at that point the sketching class finished for the day. Bring the next one please, Georgina.”

The second one was a quick sketch by Miss Hailsham and showed Georgina bound hand and foot on the sofa we were currently sat on. There were stripes from a strap on her bottom and her woebegone face was towards the artist.

“This was later that same day. Mrs. Jones had just strapped her backside and Miss Georgina was just affirming to me that she did think she was partial to women after all.”

The next one was with my poor daughter sat upon the sofa with her legs wide apart and drawn up and her arms bound along its back. Between her legs knelt a fully dressed woman. I could tell immediately that it was Mrs. Jones from the style of the dress. Georgina’s face was a mask of shock and lust. It was so remarkably intense.

“This is the last sketch that first day. Mrs. Jones had just given Georgina her first Sapphic orgasm. And our little girl went on to have two more soon after. After this she no longer denied her true self, though she did baulk at letting herself take part in some activities, at least till the crop made her think again.”

After this there were numerous other sketches, almost all by Miss Hailsham. Most showed Georgina with Mrs. Jones. There were drawings of her sucking and licking every part of the housekeeper’s body. There was even one portrait where my dear daughter had her tongue actually inside the woman’s bottomhole.

“We did have to use the crop a few times before Miss Georgina agreed to do that particular one. But she managed it and now she loves it? Don’t you, Georgie?”

“Please... please Miss... Oh, yes I like it...” My daughter would not meet our eyes but stared at her feet.

“Like what, Georgie?”

“Like... like... I like licking your arsehole, Miss. And Mrs. Jones’.”

There were several drawings by Georgina of Miss Hailsham or Mrs. Jones, naked in various poses on the window seat or the sofa, but never together. In comparison with her own positions these were positively chaste.

The last three shown to us were noteworthy: all were by the governess. The first was drawn to show the view as Miss Hailsham looked down along her body to where Georgina was sucking on her sex. The hard muscled body was caught in a foreshortened pose and my daughter’s face was shown with her chin in her tutor’s sex, her tongue out on her lover’s bud and her eyes looking up, wide with devotion like those of a puppy.

The second showed Eliza wielding a clyster. Georgina lay over the bed with her bottom raised and her hands yawning the cheeks of her bottom apart. The device was fully inserted and the maid was pushing the plunger home. What made it different from my morning ritual was that, whereas I buried my head in the covers to hide my shame, Georgina was looking back at the artist with a look of open-mouthed lust on her face, the tip of her tongue poking out to touch her lip. I do not know whether it was the humiliation or having her bottom played with that was more exciting for her.

The final one showed Georgina reclining in the window seat, legs akimbo, while she worked the two dildoes I had seen the day before in and out of her body. As yesterday the smallest one was in her bottomhole while the larger one penetrated her sex. The look of lust was intense and perfectly captured by the artist.

“I’m afraid poor Miss Georgina was not allowed to climax until the sketch was done. She found it very difficult, didn’t you, Georgie?”

“Yes, Miss, very difficult.”

“Do you remember what you promised if I let you come, you little strumpet?”

“Yerrs, Miss...”
“Tell us then. Tell your mother and Sir Thomas.”

“Please, Miss?... Oh God... I... I... I promised to let you pee in my f... face... and to d... drink it, Miss.” Georgina was crying now, but I could tell by her voice and the flint-hard nipples how aroused she was. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, exciting her. She kept unconsciously rubbing her thighs together as if to bring herself relief. She stood there eyes shut and so very vulnerable and beautiful.

“And have I, little girl?”

“No, Miss.”

“But you know I will someday, don’t you?”

“Yesss,” she whispered.

Miss Hailsham leant in very close and standing on tip-toes spoke directly into her ear. “And you want me to, don’t you, you little whore?”

“No, Miss... Yes, Miss... I don’t know... Yes, I want it!” Her fingers were sliding across her thighs towards her bud.

“Don’t you dare, you little harlot. Not without my permission. Do you want to come?” The iron in her voice held Georgina in thrall.

Sir Thomas’ hand found mine and squeezed it. I realized I was holding my breath.

“Yes, Miss,” came a little girl’s voice finally, “yes, I want to. Please may I come for you?”

“Open your eyes, look at your mother and play with yourself. And tell her when you are coming.”

“No, please not that, please, Miss,” Georgina was begging. But her eyes opened and her fingers moved to her mound. She stared at me, unfocussed, as she frantically rubbed her little bud.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Aargh! I’m coming, Mummy! Mummy! Coming, Mummy!” She was squealing as she furiously tugged her little nub of flesh about. Slowly she slipped to her knees before us. “Thank you, Miss. Oh God, thank you.”

I have to confess the scene had made me unbearably hot, even though it was my own flesh and blood.

“Thank you, Miss Hailsham,” said my husband evenly, though I could tell from the monstrous bulge in his breaches that he was as affected as I, “most edifying! Perhaps I can return the favour. Please won’t you and Georgina join me tomorrow for tea in the Yellow Salon?

The following morning, Georgina was with Miss Hailsham and she did not join me until luncheon. We said nothing of the happenings the day before or of what she might have been doing before lunch. We sat in the Chinese Salon and talked of friends and the house parties to come, of dresses and balls. We pretended that yesterday had not happened nor that teatime was fast approaching. I wanted to ask what it felt like to derive pleasure from being humiliated, what a woman tasted like, why she didn’t hate Miss Hailsham. I lacked the courage to broach the subject. I was too well brought up, too well mannered and far too shy.

At half past four Mrs. Jones appeared to fetch us. I looked at her; she seemed somehow different. Perhaps it was that I had now seen her naked in a dozen different sketches. Or maybe it was that she had been so intimate with my daughter in so many different and obscene ways. I now knew that her figure, always so well hidden in her brown dresses, was very fine indeed if not quite as voluptuous as mine.

“Lady Caroline, Miss Georgina, it is time for tea, if you please.” In truth it sounded like the summons it was.
We entered the salon to find Sir Thomas, Rose, Eliza and Miss Hailsham already present. The maids stood off to one side, while the governess sat in one chair and my husband had the other. Mrs. Jones went to stand behind my husband as she always seemed to. That left the sofa for Georgina and me and so we sat decorously beside each other. Georgina was staring at the portrait of Lady Anne in her scarlet riding habit. I had by now become accustomed to its subject’s startling gaze.

“As Miss Georgina managed to entertain us so well yesterday,” Sir Thomas began, “I thought today perhaps both ladies might care to amuse us. I have thought of a diverting competition for you both.”

I swallowed hard and kept my gaze on my hands in my lap. Obedient, I had sworn to be obedient.

“To begin with, Eliza and Rosie, please undress your mistresses. You may leave on their boots.”

We stood to make it easier for our maids. In Georgina’s case it took mere moments as her tiny dress fell away as soon as it was unbuttoned and she stepped out naked. In my case it took longer as dress, corset, shift, petticoats and drawers were all removed, leaving me naked but for stockings and boots. I don’t think my daughter had ever seen me in a state of undress before and she did stare at me. I caught her perusing my breasts (I knew she had always desired bigger breasts like mine) and my flared hips. My complete lack of a bush made her blush; I supposed I was the first woman she had ever seen without one.

“If I did not know, I would swear you were not mother and daughter,” said Sir Thomas, “a thin blonde girl and a statuesque auburn woman. Still, as we know, you have some sexual traits in common. Now I would like you both to kneel on the sofa side by side, bottoms towards the fireplace and heads on the back of the sofa.”

We complied with unfeigned reluctance. Soon enough though were kneeling side by side.

“Now turn your heads and look at each other.”

I turned and saw Georgina with her head resting on her hands and looking at me. I could tell from her slightly parted lips and the stiffness of her nipples that she was already excited by having to kneel naked beside me. I tried to smile at her, but I was sure my effort was nervous.

“Knees apart, ladies, about a foot should do. Well done.”

He came to stand directly behind us and then I felt his hand running over my bottom, stroking and patting it. It felt pleasant despite the indecency of the scene. He always left me helpless.

“I should like to stroke yours too, Miss Georgina, but I have promised your mother that no man will touch you here at Hirst Hall. I shall confine myself to enjoying the view.”

“Thank you, Sir,” choked out my daughter.

“What do you think of the sight, Mrs. Jones, Miss Hailsham?” Sir Thomas continued.

Miss Hailsham stood and walked over to us. Please don’t let her touch me, I begged silently. She stroked and patted Georgina as she might a pet dog.

“I do like Georgina’s hindquarters, Sir Thomas, all long legs and tight buttocks. But I also like a woman with proper hips and Lady Caroline has a most excellent backside for a woman her age. She is firm like a twenty-year old, must be all that riding. May I, Sir?

“Be my guest, Miss Hailsham...”

Nooo! Please, not that... But it was too late. Her hands were running over my bottom, stroking and patting me. Then she kneaded my buttocks and I groaned out loud before finally giving a little wail as she pulled my cheeks apart to inspect my bottomhole.

“Magnificent, Lady Caroline, you are quite magnificent!” I could not tell if she were teasing me.
Mrs. Jones in turn did no more than stand and look at us. I was so grateful.

“I cannot decide which I would prefer in my bed to keep me warm at night, Sir Thomas,” said the housekeeper. “Both would make a bedwarmer quite redundant.”

“Well, Mrs. Jones, I do not believe Lady Caroline will take you up on that offer. Will you, my dear?”

“No, Sir. I will not.” It was a repulsive notion.

“Now, today’s game will involve what we a have already established to be the most sensitive parts of both your bodies: your arseholes.”

Oh my dear God, no! I did not think I could stand having Georgina know how any touch there affected me.
“Miss Hailsham has agreed to manipulate this toy in your bottom, Miss Georgina.” Here he waved the smallest dildoe. “While for you, wife, it will be this one and Mrs. Jones has agreed to do the honours.” He waved the second one at me before handing them both to the governess and housekeeper.

“No competition is complete without prizes and forfeits. The prizes, self-evidently, will be the pleasure you two derive from having your arseholes toyed with. The winner will be the lady who manages to climax the greatest number of times. The loser will receive strokes of the crop equivalent to the difference between her score and the winner’s. Is that clear? I think half an hour should do the trick. Then we can stop and have our tea.”

Merciful Lord, this was going to be terrible.

“You will keep looking at each other and for each time I have to remind you to keep your eyes open you will lose one point. For a climax to count I expect you to tell us that you are having one. Right, the time starts: NOW!”

I glanced back to see Miss Hailsham dipping the little dildoe in ointment before sliding it into Georgina’s bottom. I saw her eyes open in response and then I felt the same sensation in myself as Mrs. Jones shoved the larger tool into me. She was quite rough with it, pushing the entire length into me in one long shove. I groaned in discomfort but kept my eyes on my daughter’s blue ones. She was already gasping and wriggling her bottom in response to her governess movements. Within a couple of minutes she was squealing.

“I’m coming... Oh Mummy, I’m coming... It’s so good...”

I was horrified. I wanted her to win, knowing I could take (and even enjoy a little) the pain better than she could. But I wanted her to win by one or two climaxes, not many. Please, not many. I had to keep up. I vigorously shoved my bottom back against Mrs. Jones in an obscene parody of my movements in bed with Sir Thomas. I concentrated on the feelings of pleasure radiating from my bottomhole in waves. I felt my ecstasy climbing. I imagined him sinking his big organ into my backside: so big, so deep.

“I’m coming again, Mummy! Again...”

And she was, gasping for air and with her tongue out and flicking up and down. In shock I realised she was imagining licking some woman’s sex as she climaxed. I had to concentrate. I unfocussed my eyes and just imagined Sir Thomas behind me ploughing my bottom, forcing his entire length into my bowels.

“Oh God, I’m coming... Coming, darling...”

I had caught up one climax, but having done that I struggled to focus on the task. Had I been allowed to reach down and touch my bud it would have been easy, so easy. I tried to concentrate on my pleasure, but it was hard. This wasn’t Sir Thomas and it wasn’t our bedroom. And while Mrs. Jones could push my pleasure higher and higher with the clever way she used the dildoe, she could not supply the last little push over the edge.

Georgina was having no such trouble. Her hands were still on the back of the sofa but her face had slid down and she was hanging there, her back arched so she could shove her backside hard back against her tutor’s hand. Her eyes were open but utterly glazed over. Her tongue was still stuck out to its limit.

“Ungh, coming Mummy... Coming Miss. Coming again.”

She seemed to be almost delirious and I stared at her in horrified fascination.

“Ungh, fuck my arsehole! Fuck my arsehole! Fuck my dirty arsehole! I’m coming, Miss... your little slut is coming...

It was hard to tell where one orgasm stopped and the next began. I was going to lose terribly. I had to stop thinking of her. I let myself go to another place. I imagined James the gardener slowly forcing his gigantic penis into my bottomhole, stretching me, hurting me, opening me, filling me. Over and over again. Hurting me! Stretching me! I viciously shoved my bottom back and forth and then finally...

“I’m coming, coming... Oh, Thomas, I’m coming...”

But that was it for me and I watched as Miss Hailsham drove my daughter on. One of her hands had come off the back by now and her face was on the cushions while she hung from her remaining arm. She babbled a string of obscenities as she sought one more climax.

“Fuck me, Miss, fuck your little whore. Shove it up my arse! Please Miss, harder, deeper... Let me suck your cunt, please let me suck your cunt... I’m coming... your dirty whore is coming...”

“Time ladies, please!” Sir Thomas’ words released me from my purgatory.

I felt the dildoe removed from my bottom and saw Miss Hailsham do likewise from Georgina’s. My dear child was still thrusting her bottom back and forth as if to recapture the damned thing, her face buried in the cushions. Slowly she slid over on one side and lay there gasping, moaning and crying. I gathered her up onto my naked lap and stroked her hair. Poor, poor little girl.

“How many times do you think Miss Georgina managed to come for us, Miss Hailsham?” my husband enquired in the tone of a scorekeeper.

“Eight for sure, Sir Thomas, though it can be difficult to tell them apart when the she slips into her little harlot mode.”

“Less one for when I told her to open her eyes is seven. And my wife, Mrs. Jones? I counted just the two.”

“Two it was, sir. I think her ladyship rather needs to be touched somewhere else as well.”

“And so, my dearest, you lose by five. Would you mind bending over my chair and gripping the arms. Mrs. Jones will do the necessary. If you release your grip the stroke does not count.”

I eased Georgina’s head off my lap and onto a cushion. Stoically I walked to behind the chair and leant forward, letting my breasts swing out for all to see. I gripped and did not release the arms.

Five fiery red stripes from the crop were applied to my posterior, marching in a row down from the top of my bottom. The housekeeper was not gentle and was quite expert. I imagined she had beaten enough errant maids. Each vicious cut was echoed by a molten surge in my sex. By the end I knew that the slightest touch on my bud would drive me to a climax. It was not to be.

“You may dress Lady Caroline now, Rose. “ She hurried over and carefully I dressed trying to avoid pressure on my flaming behind. Finally, gingerly, I sat back on the sofa.

“What about your charge, Miss Hailsham? Shall she dress?” My husband was solicitously passing me a cup of tea.

“I think not, Sir Thomas. Miss Georgina has been a complete trollop this afternoon. Haven’t you, Georgie?” The governess was pulling my daughter into an upright position beside me.

“Yes, Miss. But please let me dress. Please?”

“No, you have behaved like a whore, you can sit like one. Now, back straight, head up, tits out and move those knees apart. Wider... that’s it, let everyone see how wet your slit is. Perfect! Now, would you like a cup of tea, little girl?”

“Yerss, Miss”

And like that we had our afternoon tea. I was grateful that they could not see my sex which was as hot and wet as Georgina’s, just from the heat in my damaged behind. Georgina sat there with her breathing shallow, her nipples like little flints and her slit glistening. She was clearly terribly excited being made to have tea undressed before her mother, stepfather and governess, not to mention the servants. And that despite having already climaxed numerous times.


Much later I lay on my husband’s bed while he gently rubbed salve into my striped bottom. It soothed and excited in equal measures. He was naked and his big member was as stiff as a fire poker. I was getting hotter by the second as he ever so gently ran his fingers over each weal.

“Would you have had her beaten as hard?”

“You were never going to win today, my dearest.” I could feel him moving behind me and felt his stiffness suddenly resting in the cleft of my bottom. Oh Dear Jesus, how I wanted him...

“How did you know?” I whispered, arching myself and spreading my legs.

“She enjoys being humiliated, more than you can imagine. Perhaps even more than Lady Anne. She at least could hide it, Georgina positively radiates it.” The head of him began to push between my buttocks till it rested against my tight little hole.

“So I couldn’t win? Aaagh...” He had shoved himself into me.
“Never. I would have your daughter paraded naked around the whole house except that she would drip on the
carpets.”

“Ah! Oh! Ooooh!” He had pushed right into me, his hair tickling the painful stripes on my buttocks. “I’m coming, husband, I’m coming!”

“You’re as big a slut as your daughter, wife,” and then he really began to plough my bottomhole. Soon I was quite, quite lost.

Chapter 16 – In which my daughter is betrothed.

Lord Llanbedr arrived a week later.

During that week Sir Thomas had not abused me except on the day before his lordship’s arrival. He came back for luncheon that day and after the meal happily announced that Georgina was to be allowed her proper dresses from that evening onwards.

“However, I should like to enjoy her in her current outfit until tonight. Perhaps you would like to join her, my sweet. That way I may admire you both.”

Without demur I went to change into my now familiar short dress. When I returned my daughter gave out a little gasp. She had not seen me so scandalously attired. And while my nipples were covered (barely) the dress did push my breasts out and made them look very large indeed. Not to mention my bare arms and legs.

“Come, let us go to the Yellow Salon,” Sir Thomas said cheerfully. Miss Hailsham accompanied us.

I quailed inwardly; I sensed there was more to this test of my obedience than my foreshortened attire.

Mrs. Jones joined us there and we were all soon seated apart from the housekeeper.

“To commemorate Miss Georgina’s last day with her titties on display I should like her to be about the house with a somewhat stickier face. Do you think you ladies can manage that?” Sir Thomas’ voice was teasing but calculating.

Miss Hailsham smiled broadly. “Of course we can, Sir Thomas. Would you like to begin, Mrs. Jones or shall I?”
“You begin, Miss Hailsham, by all means.” The housekeeper was smiling too.

“Come, Georgie. Come and take my drawers off.” The governess stood to make it easier.

Georgina quickly obeyed reaching under the skirts to undo the drawstring and let her governess’ undergarments fall down. She was clearly practised at this manoeuvre.

Miss Hailsham stepped out of them and then sat back down and reclined in the chair. “To work, little girl, you know what to do.”

Without even glancing at me Georgina had dived under the skirts and moments later I could see her head at the juncture of the tutor’s thighs. Miss Hailsham gripped her head through the cloth and I could see her rubbing her sex all over my daughter’s face. This went on for some minutes until Miss Hailsham stiffened and let out a series of little gasps. Then she pushed the head away from her.

Georgina reappeared, her face flushed and smeared with Miss Hailsham’s secretions and her own spittle.

Straightaway Mrs. Jones beckoned her over. Once more the drawers were removed and once again Georgina dived underneath the brown skirt. By the time the housekeeper had reached her climax and pushed my child out, her face was completely smeared with both the women’s juices. Some curls of her blonde hair were plastered to her cheeks and forehead with the sticky wetness.

“You look a picture, stepdaughter!” said my husband to my gasping daughter.

The poor thing was so excited at her humiliation that her hands were pressed together in front of her pushing at her mound through her dress. One look from Miss Hailsham quelled that behaviour.

“I want you to remain like that until you dress for dinner. Then you may wash yourself. Is that clear, young lady?”

“Yes, Sir Thomas.”

“Now, your mother will of course want to keep you company!”

No, he couldn’t want me to! Not that, it was too disgusting. I would refuse.

“Mrs. Jones, would you mind asking three, no, make that four, of the footmen to attend us?” He was quite off-hand.

Oh God, that was revolting. But at least it was better than what I had thought he wanted. I was sure I would not have been able to go beneath another woman’s skirts.

Mrs. Jones reappeared minutes later with four of our footmen. George, Hugh and David were there as I had expected. The last was Stephen, who had only been with the household a couple of months. He was a young man still with a bad rash of pimples. They stood in a line awaiting instructions, all stealing glimpses at my scandalous attire and my daughter’s naked breasts and sticky face.

“Men, thank you for coming so promptly,” Sir Thomas began. “Lady Caroline has an urgent desire to be as messy as her daughter. I would be grateful if you would each in turn allow her to suck you off. You are each to withdraw at the appropriate moment and leave your spunk in her face or on her tits. Would you mind lifting them out for us, dear?”

Tears in my eyes I obeyed. I merely had to stretch and my breasts popped out of their confines and sat on the top of the dress.

“Perhaps we had better start with young Stephen,” my husband said gently.

The pimply youth stumbled forward and fumbled with his fastenings. He brought forth his terribly stiff and red organ and approached me.

I opened my mouth in readiness. That was too much for him and he exploded, spraying my face wildly with his slime. There was an enormous quantity of it and I could feel one large globule of it drip from my nose onto my breasts. Dear Lord, this was horrible.

There were stifled guffaws from the other footmen but my husband was solicitous.

“Bad luck, lad. Better luck next time! You’re next George.”

One by one the men stepped forward and I sucked them at my husband’s command. None of them lasted long. George sprayed my face wildly, much as young Stephen had, but with less volume. Hugh aimed at the bridge of my nose and seemed to cover much of my forehead with his thick effusion. I felt it running slowly down my eyebrows. Finally David pulled from my mouth and pointing downwards sprayed his greasy mess all over my neck and breasts. I must have looked terrible, encrusted in semen from my hairline to my nipples.

“Thank you, men, you may go about your duties,” said Sir Thomas and the men left with wide smiles on their faces. He turned to us.

“You two make a fascinating matched pair. Please remain that way till it is time to dress for dinner. And Mrs. Jones, I am sure that Lady Caroline will want to inspect the house today and perhaps go for a walk in the gardens. But first I would be so grateful if Miss Hailsham would do me the honour of making me a quick sketch portrait of her ladyship and her daughter.” With that he left us for his own work.

In tears I sat for half an hour on the sofa beside my daughter as Miss Hailsham sketched our distressing condition. For the first few minutes I could feel the men’s sperm slowly sliding down my face and dripping onto my breasts. Some of it even slid into my cleavage and trickled down into my dress. But after a while it stopped oozing and just began to dry into a sticky film over my features. I had never felt more disgusting and dirty in my life.

When the sketch was done we were paraded about the house and grounds as walking obscenities. It was supposedly in the nature of a tour of inspection, but in practice Mrs. Jones made sure that every one of the servants in the house saw us. I had never felt more humiliated; I was sure that the footmen had told everyone what had transpired. They could all see my displayed breasts and the white mess drying on them, on my face and in my hair. We finished in the library, where my husband was poring over a large estate map.

“Well, ladies, you look lovely. How about a walk in the gardens?” And with that he swept us out through an opened window onto the terrace.

We walked through the gardens and the warm air completed the drying of the slime on my hair, face and bosom. I could feel it beginning to crack and flake. It itched and I wanted to peel it off but did not dare.

Sir Thomas held my hand and at one point said to me, “You look so beautiful like that, you should dress like that more often.” It was so cruel and I hated him for it.

A little later he whispered to me, “You are the most exciting woman in the world, I wish I could fuck you right here and now. Look how stiff my cock is.”

I glanced down at the large bulge in his breaches and immediately my sex twitched in response. I hated him for his unkindness and loved him for how desired he made me feel. Lady Anne might indeed have controlled her husband during their marriage, but there was no doubt that now he controlled his second wife utterly.

Finally the promenade was over and Georgina and I were allowed to go bathe before dinner. I sat in my bath and scrubbed my face, neck and breasts till they were pink. I had Rose wash my hair twice to remove all traces of the terrible mess. Even when I knew it was all gone I could still feel it there as if it had been seared into my skin.

I dressed for dinner in a beautiful gown to celebrate that my daughter would be dressed as a lady at dinner for the first time in weeks. I was sitting at my dressing table and Rose was just piling my hair up in an elaborate arrangement when Sir Thomas came in from the adjoining room. He looked elegant as always for dinner, but I was surprised as he never usually came in when I was dressing.

“Rosie, may I have a moment of your mistress’ time?”

Rose made to leave the room.

“No need for that, Rosie, I won’t be a minute.” And he strode over to me, bent down and kissed me passionately on the lips.

I flushed a little; I was not used to expressions of ardour from him in front of the servants. What did he want?

He stood up again and undid his breaches. His member was already half-erect and sprang forth.

Oh, please, not that... But his organ was at the precise height of my seated head and it was clear what he desired so I opened my mouth and took the head of him in. I began to suck. Please, I was thinking to myself, please don’t let him climax in my face. I did not think I could stand to sit through dinner covered in his sperm. Especially not if Georgina were there all beautifully dressed.

“Don’t suck, dear,” he commanded.

I just sat there with the head of him resting on my tongue, hot and heavy. I could taste the maleness of him, that little dribble of liquid he gave off when excited.

“Look at me!”

I looked up along his chest at his smiling face. What a sight I must have made sitting there, dressed for dinner and staring up at him with his big penis in my mouth. I shivered at the image.

“I want you so badly, dear, that I considered ravishing you right here and now. Instead I will content myself in sitting at dinner with the feeling of your lips around my cock.” With that he pulled from my mouth, fastened his breaches around his stiff member and turning, left the room.

I sat there stunned as Rose came over and began to finish my hair.

All through dinner I could swear I could still feel him on my tongue. I know that my sex oozed the entire time in anticipation of what he would do to me later. And yet still it was a lovely meal. Georgina looked radiant and beautiful in a yellow dress to match her hair. She was vivacious and happy and we all danced attendance on her, even Miss Hailsham.


As we sat at breakfast, knowing that Lord Llanbedr was due to arrive in a few hours, I was luxuriating in that I would play Lady Dalrymple in full during the week he was here. Miss Hailsham would just be the drawing tutor and Georgina would be the prospective bride. Her hoped-for intended would stay for seven days and his parents, Viscount and Viscountess Hawarden, would join us for the last two days. If all went well we might even seal the betrothal then.

“I hope you have devised a plan to land your young man, Miss Georgina,” said Sir Thomas.

Georgina blushed and looked at her plate. “I think so, Sir Thomas. Miss Hailsham has been helping me.”

Sir Thomas looked over at the governess and raised his eyebrows.

“I see no reason to tinker with a winning plan of campaign, Sir Thomas,” she replied sweetly, “Miss Georgina will tease her young swain and then find an appropriate moment to take her young beau aside somewhere private in the gardens and proceed to do unto him exactly what was done unto you by Lady Anne.”

Sir Thomas grinned. “But unless Miss Georgina has been making every man in the house very happy, surely she lacks the requisite skill.”

“Mrs Shepherd has been most kind,” Miss Hailsham continued. “She has supplied us with a variety of sausages of varying lengths, girths and firmness. Miss Georgina has practised hard and, unless her young man is equipped in an exceptional fashion, I believe she is ready.”

Sir Thomas guffawed. “And are you ready, Miss Georgina?” He looked over at my blushing daughter.

“I think I am, Sir,” she whispered still looking at her plate. Then she lifted her head up and looked straight at Miss Hailsham. “Miss Helena, I mean Miss Hailsham, says I am.”

“Then I am sure you will do, dear stepdaughter.”


Lord Llanbedr turned out to be a charming young man, four years older than Georgina and handsome enough in an unprepossessing way. He was no taller than Georgina and was of a slim build so that the two of them looked like a pair of poplars side by side. They shared an interest in books, drawing and music and so had more than enough to discuss and do together. Miss Hailsham was always there as a chaperone. Knowing her predilections I could see there was no attraction of a physical nature on my daughter’s side, but there were enough hungry glances from his side to leave me in no doubt as to his admiration. And Georgina could always find her satisfaction elsewhere as long as she did right by her husband. I was more pleased than can be imagined.

On the day before his parents came we had a little fête champêtre in the sunken garden. Two of the garden staff who were accomplished on the fiddle were hidden in a nearby bower and played country tunes, while the five of us dressed gaily and had our luncheon on the grass. After a while Sir Thomas took me for a walk down towards the long drive. There he pushed me against a tree and kissed me so fiercely that I was sure he was about to ravage me. But no, after a few minutes he pulled me to him and we began to walk back, arm in arm. I was sure my hair must be somewhat disordered; I know I was panting. As we approached the sunken garden we met Miss Hailsham helped by the serving maid.

“Oh, Sir Thomas and Lady Caroline, I feel most unwell. Would you mind helping me back to the house?” She stumbled as we came close.

We assisted her back to the terrace and asked the maid to get her to her chamber.

By the time we returned to the remains of our lunch in the little garden, Lord Llanbedr was lying flat on his back on the grass with a look of utter amazement and satisfaction on his face. Georgina was on one elbow looking down at him and teasing him under the chin with a buttercup.

“My Lord, it reflects yellow so strongly you must love butter more than anything else!” She had a look of twinkling triumph in her eyes.

“No, Miss Georgina, I could love nothing more than you. Don’t tease me so.”

At this point Sir Thomas coughed and the young man shot up into a sitting position and dropped his hands to his lap as if his clothing might be misarranged there. It wasn’t but the gesture was telling.

“A little more wine, Miss Georgina?” my husband said solicitously.

“Oh no, stepfather,” she replied coquettishly, “I still have a lovely taste in my mouth from the dessert!”

Lord Llanbedr’s face was the picture of rosy embarrassment, which we all feigned not to notice.

Viscount Hawarden arrived the next day and Lord Llanbedr took him aside almost before he had alighted from the carriage. Within the hour he had visited both Miss Georgina to make his formal declaration and had been to see Sir Thomas to ask his permission. The betrothal was announced at dinner. My daughter was to be Lady Llanbedr and, in time, a viscountess. My triumph could not have been more complete.

After dinner we ladies left to another room to discuss the plans for the nuptials. The men remained to discuss business.

When they rejoined us my husband announced, “The Viscount and I have agreed that the wedding should be in the third week of September and that we should hold it here at Hirst Hall, in the chapel. I realise that gives you ladies less than three months to prepare, but it seems cruel to keep such young people apart for too long.” Lord Llanbedr once again went a trifle pink.

Later my husband informed me that the date was insisted on by Lord Hawarden as the next tranche of his mortgages was payable on the 1st of the month following the wedding and he wished to reduce the payments by reducing the principal with the thirty thousand pounds that would be paid on the consummation of the marriage. Sir Thomas also told me that he had made it clear that the two thousand per annum to be paid to Lady Llanbedr would be paid to her account and not her husband’s.

The following two days were pleasant as we ladies happily discussed the wedding preparations while the men went out hunting and shooting. I noticed that my daughter was the picture of propriety except that in the half-hour before her intended was due to depart she allowed herself to take a promenade through the gardens alone with her fiancé. He returned looking a very happy young buck, she like a young lady who has learnt exactly how to control her man.


As the Hawarden carriage left down the sweeping front drive it passed a small pony trap coming the other way. We were about to go back inside when Georgina gave a girlish squeal of delight.

“It’s Emma. Mother, it’s Emma.” Then she suddenly looked back up at the house, where Miss Hailsham was no doubt awaiting her and she looked nervous.

Miss Emma Missenden was not what I had expected. She was darker than I had expected: her hair was almost raven coloured and her skin was had an olive hue as if she were from a Mediterranean country. However she was entirely English, the poor scion of a good family who had been given an education at the discretion of a great-aunt, but who would now have to earn her living as a governess or a companion.

She and Georgina hugged and my daughter blurted out the news that she was to be married.

“But,” began Miss Missenden, “but then you will not need a companion. Your letter informed me I was to come. I am sorry to have not written back first.”

“Oh, but Miss Georgina will.” I turned to see Miss Hailsham coming down the steps. “Even when she is Lady Llanbedr, she will have need of a companion.”

Georgina blushed and looked down.

Miss Hailsham looked the newcomer up and down quite frankly.

“Emma, this is my drawing tutor, Miss Hailsham, Miss Helena Hailsham. Miss Hailsham, this is my best friend, Miss Emma Missenden.” My daughter was still slightly flushed.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Emma.”

We went up the steps while footmen unloaded Emma’s trunk and as we ascended I heard my husband whisper to the governess.

“Is she, do you think?”

“It is hard to tell, Sir Thomas,” replied Miss Hailsham, “I will need to see her and Miss Georgina together. Mrs. Jones will help.”

“Well, let me know when you do.”

“I’ll know by dinner, Sir Thomas.” She sounded determined and I shivered inwardly on Miss Missenden’s behalf.

Sir Thomas headed off on his own business, I went to the Chinese Salon and the three women went off to the south wing. I spent my time reading and writing and perusing the house accounts that Mrs. Jones had left for me. I wondered what might be going on in the Old Nursery but did not dare intrude there for fear of what I might find. But after some time I could stand it no longer and rang for a maid. Mary appeared.

“Send word to Mrs. Jones in the south wing. Ask her if my presence is required.”

Mary hurried away and in a few minutes Eliza appeared. I noticed that while she had worn proper clothes during the visits of the Hawardens she had immediately reverted to the punishment dress on their departure.

“Your ladyship, Miss Hailsham says that, while your presence is not required, if you were to come it might help move events along.” The girl looked and sounded nervous.

“Very well, Eliza, I shall come.” And I stood to follow her.

“Please, Lady Caroline, please may I have my clothes back. Please? I will be good.” She was twisting her hands in her shortened skirt.

“Eliza, you may have your drawers back. Tell Mrs. Jones.” We were walking toward the south wing now. “And you may have the remainder of your outfit in one week if you are good.”

“Thank you, your ladyship. I will be good. Very good.”

“But do not forget what Sir Thomas said. He never forgets an affront and if you misbehave he will have you buggered and in public. Have you ever had a man?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Well, believe me, Eliza, it hurts when you are taken in your bottom. Especially the first time.”

We were there now and I took a deep breath as the maid opened the door to the nursery.

I entered looking as unconcerned as possible. There was Miss Emma, naked and bound face down onto the sofa. Her face was turned towards the open door to see who entered. Her fine bottom was striped with a dozen or more wheals, clearly applied by Mrs. Jones who stood behind the settee flexing a crop. Miss Hailsham stood nearby with a kind smile on her face. My naked daughter knelt on the carpet near her friend with her bottom on her heels and her hands in her lap. She looked worried for her friend.

“Lady Caroline, help me,” cried out Miss Emma, “they are beating me. Please.” She sounded angry but more than that she was clearly terrified. Her face was a mask of tears and spittle.

“Miss Hailsham, why are you having Miss Emma beaten?” I tried to keep my voice stern but fair. The sight of another naked woman suffering as I had done was undeniably exciting though.

“Your ladyship, Miss Emma was asked to confirm whether she liked her kiss with Miss Georgina when they were at school and also to elucidate as to her feelings for members of her own sex. She refused and was remarkably insolent. It took quite an effort from all four of us to remove her clothing and have her bound to the sofa. Mrs. Jones has just applied her first dozen strokes and I was just asking her to be so kind as to answer my enquiries.” Miss Hailsham might have been discussing a pupil who had misconstrued a French irregular verb.

“Miss Emma, you are here as a companion to my daughter. Sir Thomas has hired Miss Hailsham to act as tutor to young ladies here at the hall. As such you are expected to follow her instructions as if they were my own. Is that quite clear?”

“But... but... but, Lady Caroline,” the girl stammered, “Miss Hailsham asked indecent questions!” She was staring at me open-mouthed now.

“Let me make it easy for you then, I shall ask. Did you enjoy kissing my daughter and do you think that you would like to do it again now?” I smiled at her in as encouragingly a manner as I could.

“You can’t ask that! It is not right!” The young lady was crying again and shaking her head as if to deny that the question had even been asked.

“Lady Caroline can ask what she likes, as can I. You will answer politely and immediately. Half-a-dozen more please, Mrs. Jones.” Miss Hailsham’s voice never lost that sweet tone so perfect for young children.

“Nooo! Aarghh!” The raven-haired tresses flew back and forth as Miss Emma shook her head furiously in response to the first of the new blows from the crop. The howls and screams did not stop as the next five were cruelly applied. Eliza brought me a chair and I sat facing the sofa. I could see Georgina weeping as her friend suffered.

“Please, Emma,” she moaned, “please don’t fight them. Just give in. Tell them.”

I looked at the poor young woman’s bottom. It was a sore sight now. The first dozen had been laid in a row from the top of her bottom to the juncture with the thighs. These next six were being applied at an angle across to form a diagonal grid. The pain must have been intense and by the end Emma was begging for it to stop.

“Now, Miss Emma, answer Lady Caroline’s questions please.” Miss Hailsham asked the sobbing and hiccoughing girl. “No more prevaricating, if you please!”

The poor thing just moaned and shook her head.

“Ah well, another six please, Mrs. Jones. There always some slow learners in every class.” Miss Hailsham actually managed to sound sorry for what she had just commanded.

“NOOO! Please... I will answer.” The girl seemed beside herself.

“Come along then, quickly... Or else...”

“I... I... I don’t know if I liked the kiss. It just happened. And I don’t know... I don’t know about Georgina. I like her... I like her but... but...” Her voice, barely audible to start with trailed off.

“But what, Miss Emma?” I asked as kindly as possible.

“But... but...” She tailed off again.

I looked pointedly at the housekeeper.

“But I like men too...”

It was my turn to be surprised. Could one like both? Miss Hailsham interrupted my thoughts.

“So you liked Miss Georgina kissing you? But you also like men. Have many kissed you?”

“No, Miss. Just two. I... I... mean just two kisses. One from Georgina and one from Alan.”

“Alan?” Georgina sounded surprised. “Alan who delivered the groceries to the school?”

Miss Emma nodded and blushed.

“How sweet,” said Miss Hailsham. “Georgie, kiss Miss Emma.”

Georgina leant forward but Emma promptly buried her face in the sofa.

“Miss Emma, I will say this only once.” Miss Hailsham sounded like a stern schoolmistress. “If you do not do exactly as I say then I will ask Mrs. Jones to apply a half dozen more strokes for each failure to comply. This will turn your arse into even more of a mess than it is. As things stand you will not be able to sit for several days. When we reach three dozen strokes on your backside I will flip you over and Mrs. Jones will stripe your tits. Then will come your thighs. I will have your absolute compliance sooner or later. Now turn your face to Miss Georgina and let her kiss you.”

For a moment all we could hear were muffled racking sobs but then Emma turned her face towards her school friend. It was blotchy and wet from crying.

Georgina leant in and took the poor girl’s face in her hands and then began to gently kiss her. First little kisses all over her face before she began to concentrate on her lips. Within minutes she was passionately kissing her open-mouthed and with her tongue questing deep in Emma’s mouth. Her friend accepted it all, her eyes closed and resisting not at all.

“Stop now, Georgie,” said Miss Hailsham.

Georgina leant back; she was gasping and flushed. Her nipples were as big and hard as buds about to burst into bloom.

Emma lay there with her mouth open and her eyes screwed shut. She too was gasping for air and letting off little moans.

“Open your eyes, Miss Emma, and look at me,” said Miss Hailsham firmly but not harshly.

Reluctantly the bound girl complied, blinking away tears as she sought the governess’ face.

“Now, young lady, we are going to unbind you. When you are free you are going to lie down on the sofa and spread your legs as wide as you can. Then Georgie here (she patted my daughter on the head) is going to suck your pussy till you come for us. Then we will all be able to see how much you like women. Is that agreeable?”

“Noooo. I can’t, Miss... It’s not right!” Emma was shaking her head and shivering violently.

“Six strokes please, Mrs. Jones,” Said Miss Hailsham calmly.

“Noooo... Aarghh!”

Mrs. Jones had come round the near side of the sofa and began to lay the half dozen wheals across the poor girl’s bottom in the opposite diagonal to before leaving a diamond cross-hatched pattern on Emma’s very sore behind. The poor thing howled and jerked frantically throughout.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones. Her arse does look a state,” opined the governess. “Do you think she can take any more there?”

“Oh yes, Miss Hailsham,” replied the housekeeper enthusiastically. “I can get six more on each of the diagonal patterns before I run the risk of breaking the skin. After that we will have to flip her over and start in on her titties.”

“No... no... no...” whimpered the poor young woman.

“Now, Miss Emma, do you want to be untied so you can spread yourself for little Georgie’s tongue? Or shall we have another six? It is your choice, young lady.”

“No... no...”

“Ah well, it looks like six more, Mrs. Jones...”

“NO! I’ll do it. No more... please, no more!”

“Very well, Miss Emma. But if you baulk now I shall have a full dozen applied next time. Eliza, Georgie, undo her.”

Unbound the young woman slowly rolled herself over, groaning and wincing as her tenderised bottom made contact with the upholstery. She lay there crying softly. Despite her blotchy face she looked quite beautiful. I saw that her breasts were full and of medium size, smaller than mine but much bigger than Georgina’s tiny ones. Her bush was black and full and I wondered if Miss Hailsham planned to have her shaved. Her hands came up and covered her breasts as if to protect them from Mrs. Jones who was ostentatiously flexing the crop. Slowly she let her legs fall open a little.

“Hush,” said my daughter tenderly as she leant in to kiss her friend, “let me.” And she moved down and placed a kiss full on the furred mound. Then gently but firmly she pulled her friend’s legs up and apart, opening her for her Sapphic attentions.

“Salve please, Eliza,” she said and the maid hurried to get some. Mrs. Jones remained there, a very visible insurance against backsliding, but Miss Hailsham drew up another chair and sat beside me to observe. I wondered if her sex was as damp as mine. I imagined it was.

When Eliza returned with the soothing lotion, Georgina began to run it over her friend’s cruelly damaged buttocks. The poor girl moaned and winced and wept.

“Pull your legs up more, Emmie, I need to get all of you,” my child encouraged her friend. I saw how clever she was. Soon poor Emma had pulled her legs right up so that her knees were near her breasts to allow the gently comforting fingers to rub salve into the entire area. It allowed us to admire Mrs. Jones’ artistry with the crop. The wheals were evenly spaced and of the same intensity. It looked like a mathematical pattern sketched on human flesh.

When the rubbing was done Georgina’s mouth just lowered itself onto her school mate’s open and softly furred sex.

There was a moan from Emma and one of her arms went up to cover her eyes. But there was no resistance. We all watched as my daughter’s skilful tongue set about exploring her friend. It teased and poked here and there. The moaning intensified. Then her fingers joined in spreading Emma’s sex open to allow deeper access. All too soon the hips were making little involuntary thrusting movements up against the sucking mouth.

“Oh! Oh! Ooooooh!” It was clear that Emma had just climaxed in her friend’s mouth.

Georgina slowed but did not stop. It was clear she would continue doing this until Miss Hailsham told her otherwise.

“Oh! No... No more... please.” Emma’s voice was plaintive.

“Put down your arm, Miss Emma, and look at me,” said Miss Hailsham. “And Georgie, slow down a little for now.”

Slowly the arm came down and wide-eyed the young lady looked at us surrounded by her disordered dark tresses. She looked immensely lovely. Lower down her sex was still being gently lapped at by her lover.

“Did you like that, Miss Emma?”

“Ye... Yerrs, Miss,” choked out the poor girl.

“Then you like Georgie sucking on your cunt?”

“Y... Yes, Miss.”

“Say it then. Tell Lady Caroline what you like her daughter to do to you. Now!”

“I... Oh God... Lady Caroline, I like... I like Georgina sucking on my... on my... my cunt!”

“Well done girl,” said the governess kindly. “Georgina, bring her off again. Quickly. And then you’re done.”

My child raised her mouth and clamped it on her companion’s bud as a limpet clings to a rock. Which was just as well as in a short while Emma was thrusting her mound up into Georgina’s face and then letting out wild cries of orgasmic pleasure.

“Pretty conclusive, wouldn’t you agree, your ladyship?” Miss Hailsham addressed me.

“I believe so. I can’t imagine that Miss Emma will deny being a lesbian ever again.”

I looked over to where my daughter was lying between Emma’s spread legs with her head on her gasping friend’s stomach. Her eyes were glazed with lust and the bottom of her face was wet with her lover’s dew. She kept licking her lips unconsciously, but her gaze was fixed on Miss Hailsham.

“Yes, little Georgie, you’ve been a good girl. Would you like a kiss?” Miss Hailsham was teasing her now.

“Yes, Miss. Oh, yes please!” She began to scramble into a sitting position at the end of the sofa.

“Would you like it from me or Mrs. Jones?”

Georgina’s gaze flicked from one woman to the other. She shivered as if the choice was hard to make. “You please, Miss. Please?”

Emma lay there watching, her legs now slowly coming together again as she rolled onto her side on the other end of the settee. Her eyes followed as the governess stood and walked over to my daughter.

As I had seen before Miss Hailsham kissed first Georgina’s lips then her breasts and finally her sex. The child squealed her way through several intense climaxes to the amazement of her friend curled up beside her. When she was done and Georgina had collapsed next to Emma, Miss Hailsham wiped her mouth on a napkin and came to sit beside me once more.

“Tea, your ladyship?”

“That would be lovely.” And I watched as Mrs. Jones with a glance sent Eliza hurrying away.

“May... may I dress?” Emma’s voice was a quiet whisper.

“No. You young ladies will have tea just as you are.” The governess’ voice was matter-of-fact.

“Lady Caroline,” she continued, “I believe Miss Missenden will make an excellent companion for your daughter.”
“But I... I...” began Emma uncertainly, “I don’t want her to be my mistress now.”

“Don’t be silly, little girl,” said Miss Hailsham with a giggle. “She is not going to be your mistress; you are going to be hers!”

Chapter 17 – The summer is spent preparing for the big day

Quite what Miss Hailsham meant by that comment became apparent in the weeks that followed.

Emma was not beaten again. It proved entirely unnecessary as she settled into her new role without further demur. Miss Hailsham treated her as much as a confederate as a pupil. It was clear from the outset that the governess was training her into her own role. They both treated Georgina as either a disobedient school girl or as a little pet to be toyed with.

I would have objected to this treatment except that my daughter so clearly revelled in it. Submitting to her friend as if to her governess was clearly a shock to her but she immediately began to derive an obvious pleasure from the situation. Sir Thomas had clearly been right in saying that her desire for humiliation was a deep well that would never run dry.

Georgina was required to address her former school friend as Miss Missenden as if she were her elder and superior. Emma in turn referred to her as Georgie in much the same way as Miss Hailsham did. While I cringed at this familiarity, Georgina just flushed and clearly became wet at the debasement.

I did worry about her: she wallowed in her pleasure in such a clearly submissive way. How was she to hide this from Lord Llanbedr? And yet she managed it. When he came to visit, which he did twice before the wedding, she changed from pet and plaything into proper lady without batting an eyelid. She managed her future husband with ease and he clearly adored her. She teased him terribly but complimented him too. He seemed amazed at his luck;

I supposed he must have thought he would have to marry a merchant’s daughter who looked like a horse in order to secure a sizeable inheritance. Yet here he was with a girl who was beautiful and who, when he could trap her alone (and that was rarely), would do something hideously perverse with seeming pleasure.

She and Miss Emma spent a week at the Devernes with no mishap. Lord Llanbedr even contrived to be invited there for a couple of nights. It was clear that he would go to any length to spend time with her. I remember well the afternoon she returned from Deverne Court. Sir Thomas and I were sat on the terrace having tea with his sons who had returned during Georgina’s absence. Edward and James had clearly been impressed when their stepsister had returned an hour before. She in turn was polite but slightly off-hand with them both. Eighteen year old women about to be married are rarely interested in boys three or four years younger than they are. Sir Thomas had forbidden his sons from either touching their stepsister or from entering the Old Nursery unless specifically invited.

And so we sat having afternoon tea on the terrace. I kept thinking of the last tea I had spent with my stepsons and I could guess they felt the same judging from the looks they gave me. After a little while Miss Hailsham came out and joined us. She had not been on the trip to Deverne Court and had already met the boys. While they had shown some interest in her, she had shown none whatsoever in them, which confused them, much to Sir Thomas’ amusement. I supposed that as rich and handsome young men they were surprised that a governess should care not one whit for them.

“Miss Georgina and Miss Emma will be down in a few minutes,” she explained. “They are just changing out of their travel clothes.”

The boys told us about their visits and we passed the time pleasantly enough. Then suddenly James paused in mid-sentence and he stared behind me with wide eyes.

I turned to see what the commotion might be. There was Miss Emma crossing the terrace to join us, dressed in an elegant cream dress that set off her dark looks perfectly. It was clearly new and I guessed that Georgina had bought it for her in Ludlow on the way back from the Devernes.

However beautiful Miss Emma looked it was my daughter that had taken the boys’ breath away. She was almost entirely naked, wearing only her little boots and cream stockings that matched her companion’s dress. Her only other adornments were cornflower blue ribbons the colour of her eyes. Her hair was done in two blonde braids like a schoolgirl’s with blue bows at the ends. Her stockings were held up with blue garters and further blue bows had been tied around each wrist. The final blue ribbon had been loosely tied about her neck and was held at the other end by Miss Emma in the form of a lead. As we all stared at her Georgina blushed a deep pink.

Hugh, the footman, followed them carrying a low footstool. When Miss Emma reached her seat she pointed beside her own chair and Hugh put down the stool. Georgina ignored her own chair and instead sat down on the little stool beside Miss Emma who promptly tied the lead off on the arm of her chair. My daughter’s head ended up at the height of the table top.

“I am sorry we are late, Sir Thomas, Lady Caroline,” said Miss Emma, “but it took Miss Georgina a little while to change out of her travel clothes.”

“Well, my stepdaughter always looks ravishing,” teased my husband.

“Georgie has been such a good girl playing the role of the future Lady Llanbedr,” said Miss Emma sweetly, “that I thought she could play the part of my pet this afternoon.” She patted Georgina’s head as she might a little lap dog.

Georgina blushed a deeper shade but said nothing and kept her eyes down.

As we had our tea Miss Emma described how well the visit to the Devernes had gone. At intervals she would tear off a little piece of sandwich or a morsel of cake and pop it into Georgina’s mouth or hold out her cup of tea so that her pet could take a sip. At no point did my child use her hands.

After a while Miss Emma turned to my daughter. “Pet, your nips seem most awfully stiff now. Is showing off making you hot and sticky?”

“Yes, Miss,” said Georgina quietly.

“Well I cannot say that I am terribly surprised. But it does allow you to wear another ribbon or two. Stand up please, pet.” And with that Miss Emma undid the lead from the arm of the chair and let my daughter stand.

James and Edward stared as their stepsister stood before them. Her nipples were now so stiff that they must have been painful and she scissored her thighs together as if to ease an itch.

Miss Emma reached into a pocket and brought forth some thin blue ribbons the same shade as the others. “Here, pet, lean towards me,” she teased.

Georgina complied, leaving her tiny breasts quite close to her companion.

Miss Emma took the first ribbon and tied it to her pet’s left nipple, finishing it in a neat bow. She then repeated this on the other side. There was something terribly humiliating in being decorated thus and I could see from my daughter’s open mouth and heavier breaths that she felt it keenly.

“You look so pretty, Georgie,” said Miss Emma gaily, as if the ribbons were in her hair and not on her breasts. “Now, just the one ribbon left. Spread yourself for us, little pet.”

Georgina’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, Miss. Please not that. Please?”

“Is that disobedience I hear, Georgie, my little girl?” Miss Emma’s voice was soft and sweet but laden with threat.
“No… No, Miss,” stammered Georgina. “But please…”

“Then spread yourself, pet.”

“Oh please…” Slowly my daughter’s hands slid to her mound, which she thrust forward a little while using her fingers to open the lips there.

I thought James’ eyes would actually jump from their sockets so hard was he staring. Sir Thomas had on his air of studied nonchalance which Edward was striving to copy. Miss Hailsham watched with amused indulgence; her student was clearly doing well in her appointed task of tormenting my little girl.

Miss Emma reached out with thumb and forefinger and grasped the little nub of flesh revealed by Georgina’s fingers and tugged it back and forth gently to fully display it. Her deft fingers then placed the ribbon round it, tightened it and finished off in another little bow. Somehow the pretty blue ribbon attached in such a place and in such a manner was the epitome of humiliation. The flush on my daughter’s cheeks and the glistening of wetness at the top of her thighs showed that she felt it too.

“Walk round the table for us, Georgie,” said Miss Emma, “show us all what a naughty little strumpet you are.”

Slowly my poor girl paraded around, blushing furiously as we all inspected the bows tied to her most intimate flesh. She returned and gratefully sat herself down on her stool allowing Miss Emma to tie her lead to the chair once more.

Tea continued for a little while longer till finally Miss Emma turned to her pet and, stroking her hair, said, “You have been so good, dear Georgie; do you want a kiss?”

Miss Hailsham and I knew what she meant but the men present of course did not.

“Yes… I mean no, Miss. Not here, Miss. Not now, Miss. Please?” Georgina was clearly flustered and a picture of confused emotions.

“Perhaps a quick stroll in the gardens then,” said Miss Emma, undoing the lead once more and rising from her chair. “Excuse us for a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen.” And with a little tug of her lead she took Georgina off towards the steps down to the gardens.

They could not have gone any distance at all because within a minute we all heard the distinct and noisy sounds of orgiastic female pleasure, repeated loudly for several minutes. A brief pause followed until Miss Emma reappeared leading a flushed and still gasping Georgina back to the table. Her hair was somewhat messed and she kept her gaze firmly downcast.

“Oh dear,” said Miss Emma as they reached the table, “You seem to have lost one of your bows, pet. You had better go and find it!”

Every pair of eyes there immediately went to Georgina’s sex where indeed there was no longer a blue bow. The poor girl whirled about and headed back whence she had come. The eyes followed as her slim hips and little bottom descended the steps.

In a minute she returned with the missing item which she handed to her mistress.

“Spread, pet,” came the curt order.

While my daughter reluctantly complied, Miss Emma undid and straightened the ribbon. In a trice she had circled it around the little bud and pulled it tight.

“Oww!” Georgina gasped sharply.

“Does that hurt, little one?” Miss Emma was all mock solicitude as she finished off the bow. “Still, it should stop it dropping off again. You are after all dripping wet down there, aren’t you, you little harlot?”

“Yerss, Miss,” moaned my little girl through the stream of tears running down her face. It was hard to tell if they were tears of pain or of debasement and humiliation. Probably they were a mixture of both.

When tea finished shortly after I noticed that my husband and both his sons left with a distinctly uncomfortable gait. I felt a wry smile on my face: if my daughter was to be so appallingly treated at least they could suffer a little for it too.


The very next day, as I sat at my desk writing to my brother in London concerning arrangements for the wedding, in came Mrs. Jones with a shamefaced Mary.

“Oh Mary,” I said, “not again. Whose organ have you had in your mouth this time? Let me guess, James?”

“Nothing quite so bad, Lady Caroline,” Mrs. Jones replied. “But she was caught snogging in the kitchen gardens. It was fairly intense by Mr. Jenkins’ account.”

“And who was the lucky lad?” I tried to sound stern.

“Jack, the groom.”

“Oh yes, quite a handsome young man. Now, Mary, what did I tell you before? If you want a man’s cock in your mouth you are to come and see me and I will arrange it for you.”

“But... But please, your ladyship, I didn’t want to... to... do that. We were just kissing.” Mary sounded quite desperate.

“Has he asked you to marry him?” I enquired.

“No, Ma’am, not yet,” the maid replied quietly.

“Mrs. Jones, send for the young man.”

The housekeeper left and returned within a couple of minutes with the young lad. She must have told him to wait on the kitchen steps beforehand.

“Well, Jack,” I began, “what are the rules about relationships with the housemaids?”

“W... we are not supposed to go beyond holding hands, Ma’am. Not unless we has permission, Ma’am.”

“And were you kissing and touching Mary?”

“Yes... yes, Ma’am. But only over the clothes, Ma’am!”

“Jack, you know the rules. Not that I blame you. Mary here is a hot-blooded minx who I am sure led you astray. I will not have you distracted by her evident charms.”

At this point Mary began to softly weep and to whisper, “No, Ma’am. Please Ma’am.”

“And so, young man, to keep you both from being too frustrated by her desires I propose the following compromise. Once a week, Mary will take you somewhere private. There she will take your manhood in her mouth until you are relieved. The rest of the time you will confine yourselves to holding hands. Is that clear, Jack?”

“Yerss... Yerss, your ladyship,” the dumbstruck lad eventually choked out.

“On your knees then Mary,” I addressed the sobbing maid. “You can do this week’s session right now.”

“Please... Please... Not here, not Jack, not that.” Mary was quite beside herself but despite this, when Mrs. Jones pressed down on her shoulders, she slowly sank to her knees.

The housekeeper beckoned the stable lad forward and he fumbled at his fastenings. Out sprang a decent-sized male organ and despite her tears I saw Mary’s eyes widen a little. It was certainly larger than both Marco’s and Dai’s: the only other members she had personal experience of, though of course she had seen Sir Thomas’ still greater manhood at work on me, not to mention ‘Giant Jim’.

A push from Mrs. Jones on the back of her head and Mary opened her tear-wetted mouth and engulfed the flesh before her.

Jack let out a heart-felt groan of pleasure. He actually lasted longer than I expected; he was clearly holding back as hard as he could to prolong his pleasure.

When finally he spurted into her mouth, Mary swallowed frantically without being told to. She knew what would happen if she made a mess of my carpet.

“That will be all, Jack.” I said sternly, though my sex was now sticky and warm at this display. “And remember, once a week and in private. Apart from that hand-holding only!”

He fled leaving his partner still sobbing on her knees.

“I hope you enjoyed that, Mary? You are becoming quite proficient at sucking.”

“Oh please, Ma’am. Now he’ll never marry me...” The maid sounded heartbroken.

“Don’t be silly girl! Treat him nicely, tease him often, suck his cock once a week and refuse to do more than hold hands at other times and he will ask you within a month. You’re a slut, Mary, but he will want you to be his slut and his alone.”

“But... But, Ma’am, I’m not a slut...” The girl was distraught.

“Of course you are, silly child. Marco, Dai and Jack have all been in your mouth already and you are not yet twenty. I was 37 before I had had so many, and thrice married,”

“I’m a good girl...” Mary wailed.

“Mrs. Jones, Mary seems to be under some peculiar delusion. Ring for George, Hugh and David. Oh, and Stephen as well. Perhaps they can fuck some sense into the girl.”

“Nooo! Please, your ladyship, no! I’ll say it. I’m a slut... A slut! A slut...” She was kneeling at my ankles now.

“And don’t you forget it, Mary. You are a slut and I expect you to behave as one. When Mrs. Jones sends you under her skirts or when I tell you to suck some man’s cock I expect the enthusiasm of a really filthy slut. Am I clear?”

“Yerss... Yes, your ladyship,” sobbed the maid.

“Off you go then, Mary. Oh, and Mary, that is a nice sized member your Jack has. Make sure you treat it with proper respect.”

As I watched her leave I could feel my poor sex on fire, tormenting the poor girl was horribly exciting.

As the summer passed it sometimes seemed to me as if there was an informal competition between Sir Thomas and Miss Emma. Sir Thomas would once a week or so show off my obedience to his will while Miss Emma would with a similar frequency demonstrate her dominance over my daughter.

Miss Hailsham did not seem to object to Miss Emma taking over her role and seemed only too pleased to just becoming the drawing mistress. It transpired that she preferred sketching and painting to her work with young women. Her paintings of people were in many ways as good as those of Thomas Lawrence. I happily purchased from her many of her sketches of Georgina including all of those of dubious or obscene taste, of which there were many. I also paid for her to paint a head and shoulder portrait in oils of Mrs. Jones which I then presented to the housekeeper. The first version looked too severe and I had it altered so that it showed that enigmatic half-smile she sometimes bestowed on us when she was amused. When we presented it to her she said it was not appropriate to be hung below stairs as it might be taken for vanity. I replied that if that was how she felt I would have it in the Chinese Salon so I might enjoy it. The very next day it was hanging in her office. Though she never would admit it I know she was flattered by it.

The Sunday after the tea with the ribbons Sir Thomas invited all to come and witness my spanking before we set off to church. James and Edward, Miss Emma and Georgina, Miss Hailsham and Mrs. Jones were all present in the Library as I dropped my drawers around my ankles, gathered up my skirts and lay over my husband’s lap. Before them all he repeatedly spanked me, stroked me and fingered me. He was so expert at this chastisement that he could stoke me like an expert furnaceman till my bottom and my sex glowed white hot. Then he stood me back on my feet and allowed me to fasten my undergarments. Through my tears I saw the look of amazed surprise on the women’s faces and the naked lust on my stepson’s. And there was Mrs. Jones’ half-smile. Despite the seething sexual torment I was in I could not help but smile inwardly at the sight of it. For the vicar it was another wasted sermon on my part, I heard barely a word. Judging from the stiffness in James’ and Edward’s breaches neither did they.

After luncheon that day, Sir Thomas took me aside into the library.

“James and Edward are desperate for you to treat them to another teatime. They cannot touch the maids as Mrs. Jones has threatened them, I have forbidden them to go near Georgina and Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma have rejected all advances.”

“They could try the estate girls.” I did not want another tea such as the one before.

“They have, but most are locked up by now, and it is anyway not the same. So I have told them that, while I do not think your presence at another private tea is required, I am sure you will not mind meeting them briefly after church on a Sunday, here in the Library.”

“Please, husband, not that... Please?”

“You will come her directly after the service and before lunch and you will swiftly and obediently satisfy them, either digitally or orally. At all other times you will be free of their attentions entirely.”

“Oh God, please... not that...” I was sure the fact that he had decreed it weekly meant that he had heard of what I had done to Mary and was giving me a dose of my own medicine.

“If you decide to do it digitally, I only ask that you ensure that you lick up all the resulting mess. You will be obedient, won’t you?”

“Yes...” I whispered to his retreating back.

The boys entered a few minutes later. I felt like demanding that they should come one by one, but was sure I would be refused in my request.

Quivering and tearful I sat on a chair and beckoned one toward me. They both came but it was James who ended up directly before me while his brother just stood to one side and watched us.

I undid the boy’s breaches and loosened his already stiff member from his undergarments. It sprang to rigid attention. I began to manipulate it, at first gently and then more vigorously. It did not last long and I could tell from his moans that he was about to shoot. Bearing in mind Sir Thomas instruction I held my cupped hand before it to try to catch as much of the mess as I could. Apart from the first monstrous spurt I caught it all in a greasy little pool in my palm. Bending I lapped it up. I believe this to have been the most revolting thing I had ever done.

I repeated the process on his older brother with similar results. Once again I found them watching me as I licked the sperm from my hands.

“You missed a bit, stepmother,” said Edward pointing out where James initial shot had splashed across the desk.
I scraped it up with my fingers and licked them clean. It was disgusting and degrading.

The boys enjoyed the game though and spent several happy minutes finding every fleck of semen and watching me lick it up.

That was the last time I completed this obedience with my fingers. The following weekend when we went straight to the Library from church I sat my sore bottom on a chair and sucked them both, one after the other. It was faster, less messy and strangely somewhat less humiliating. I still felt like a cheap slattern though.


Another time in August it was a lovely day but we had been driven inside from tea on the terrace by a sudden summer thunderstorm. As we stood in the drawing room watching the sheets of rain, Sir Thomas came up with a proposition.

“Let us have a competition of the talents from you ladies. You can each show us your best skill and we men shall sit in judgement like Paris to decide the winner, though I am not sure which of you is to be Hera, Aphrodite and Athena. Personally I should say Miss Emma is Hera, always giving queenly commands. Miss Hailsham is Athena, wise beyond her years. My wife is, of course, Aphrodite, the most alluring of women and the goddess of sensual love.”

“And I?” Enquired Georgina. “As I recall, stepfather, Paris had only to judge amongst three ladies. So which goddess am I? And nowhere in the myth does Paris have two assistants.” She nodded at James and Edward.

“Oh without doubt, Miss Georgina, you are Artemis, lithe of form and fleet of foot. And I am entitled to some aid for I fear my task is harder than young Paris’ for I shall not be accepting bribes. The winner shall not receive a golden apple though, but she may demand the same forfeit from all the ladies she has vanquished. Now who shall begin?”

“I shall,” said Miss Emma, making her way to the pianoforte. She proceeded to play a piece from Haydn which was both difficult and perfectly delivered. We all applauded her loudly.

“I would like to be next,” said Georgina. “Will you accompany me please, Emma?” And she began to sing a well known folksong about a fair maiden imprisoned by a cruel lord.

Except that after only a few bars Miss Emma stopped playing. Georgina looked at her quizzically.

“I do believe your singing is too constrained, Georgina,” said her accompanist mockingly. “Let me help you.”

And with this she stood and approached my daughter. She undid her dress and stripped her naked to the waist, revealing her little bosom.

“There, now you can get more air into your chest,” she teased her friend.

I was about to protest at this attempt to put my child off when I looked at the boys. They were happily staring at their stepsister.

“Thank you, Miss,” said my daughter calmly. Then she thrust out her chest, pointing her stiffening nipples at the judges and she sang. If Miss Emma half imagined this trick would help her she had made a mistake.

“I’m next,” said Miss Hailsham as my daughter readjusted her clothing. “I shall draw a portrait of each of you in under twenty minutes.” And picking up her pad she began. It was a remarkable achievement and the six resulting portraits were true to life and not caricatures at all. She would have had my vote.

“And now you, my wife,” said Sir Thomas, smiling. “What shall you display your virtuosity in?”

“Alas, husband,” I replied, “I was raised in a merchant’s house and not a stately home. I am good at running a household but have none of the refined skills of a lady. I fear I shall have to forfeit.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” said Sir Thomas, “you are too hard on yourself. You have a greater talent for sodomy than anyone I have ever met. Why don’t you show us that?”

I stared at him in horror, shaking my head. “No husband, please not that, not in front of...” But he was already rising and ringing the bell. Mary appeared in a moment.

“Ah Mary, ask Mrs. Jones to attend us, find James the gardener and send Rosie to help her mistress undress.”

Mary hurried away and as we waited I sat staring at my lap and wringing my hands. Please not in front of my daughter and stepsons.

Soon Rose and Mrs. Jones appeared. Rose came straight to me and began to remove my clothing.

“Entirely naked please, Rosie,” said Sir Thomas. “I should like her ladyship without a stitch on.”

James appeared a few minutes later just as I reached a state of nudity.

“Here is our Hercules,” said my husband, “fresh from his labours. James, her ladyship wishes to display her skills in the art of sodomy and your instrument is the organ on which she will demonstrate her talent. Are you ready?” His face was split by his wolfish grin.

“Yes, Sir Thomas, at any time.” And the man began to strip away his clothing while staring at my nudity.

My husband came and took me by the hand and led me to the sofa. He leant in close and whispered in my ear.

“I expect you to win, my love, so show them your best.” Then he kissed me on the cheek and left me to be joined by the gardener whose monstrous equipment was rapidly swelling to ‘giant’ proportions.

I took a deep breath and arranged myself on all fours on the settee. I looked back to see Mrs. Jones handing Jim a pot of lotion.

I looked over at where the six spectators were sitting or standing. The boys faces were by then transfixed with a rictus of lust. My breasts were already swinging free beneath me and my rounded bottom and bald sex would be enough to cause that. My daughter was bright-eyed and open-mouthed, clearly my humiliation was exciting to her. Miss Hailsham was a picture of concentration as she looked at me and then down at her sketchpad. Dear God, I wanted to ask her not to sketch this. Miss Emma was staring at Jim’s swelling organ. Mrs. Jones and Sir Thomas were, as always, calmly surveying it all.

I felt a finger, well-greased slide into my bottom, followed by another one. They were clearly the forefingers of both hands as Jim began to pull them apart so as to stretch me open. It was disgusting and uncomfortable and overwhelmingly exciting, as yet there was no pain. My husband had by then taken my bottom so many times that only the insertion of the gardener’s giant manhood was really going to hurt. I felt my sex immediately begin to ooze uncontrollably. Soon he had four fingers inside me and was pulling my bottomhole open in all directions.

I felt the by then familiar head of his giant greased member between the cheeks of my bottom. It felt like a small apple sitting there. Then it was implacably pressing against my tiny aperture. With a little explosion of pain it slipped inside: so big, so hard and so hot. My sex was going to be gushing in a moment. I looked at my husband and he smiled encouragingly at me. He wanted me to win, to show how good I was at this.

“Fuck my bottom,” I said out loud, at first as a hoarse whisper and then as a loud command. “Fuck my bottom; shove it all the way in.”

‘Giant Jim’ followed my instructions and leant into me. I dropped my head to the sofa, arched my back and shoved back against him, speeding up my impalement. The pain and the stretching were by then overwhelming. I was going to climax so quickly. As I felt his hair tickling my bottom I reached back and squeezed my little bud.

“Aahhh! Coming! So good... so good!” My orgasm blew through me like a hurricane and I made no attempt to hide it. I was left weak and gasping.

My partner just began to work my bottom slowly; he knew that I could go from climax to climax. Indeed the next one took but a little time before it buffeted me about.

After that I pushed him off me and got him into a sitting position on the sofa. I straddled his lap and first rubbed my breasts into his face, half smothering him. Then I reached behind me and seized his giant tool and held it upright.

“Right, let’s get this thing back where it belongs!” I said staring straight at my audience and I lowered myself onto it. In this position it felt, and must have looked, simply enormous. Slowly I forced it into me, drawing a loud groan from the gardener. I fucked up and down on him hard, rubbing my breasts all over his chest. Twice more I squeezed my little bud and twice more I climaxed.

“I can’t hold out much longer,” he whispered in a strangled gasp.

“Two more minutes,” I whispered back.

I pushed myself off him and turned around so that I was facing them all. I straddled him again and played with my nipples, stretching them and pinching them painfully till I nearly came. I reached down for him, put him back in position and lowered my bottom until my delicate hole was once again transfixed upon him. I slowly lowered my weight till he was finally in me to the very root. It felt wonderfully immense inside me, as if it were pushing all my other insides out of the way, which it probably was. I pulled up my legs till my bare feet were on his thighs and spread myself apart.

“Hold me up,” I whispered to him and I felt his strong hands on my waist. I began to raise and lower myself on him at first slowly and then faster. With one hand I reached down and spread my sex wide open so that they could see every detail of me. With the other I began to strum my swollen red bud. As I climaxed I felt him begin to spurt inside me as his cock pulsed furiously. I jammed my little ring all the way down on him.

“Yes, come in my arsehole, you bastard. Fill my arse with your sperm. Fill me up!” And I frigged my clittie till I came again and again. Finally I slumped back against him as I saw Sir Thomas approach me and take one of my sticky hands.

He pulled me up and off the softening pole which left my body with a loud slurping sound. I stood there bow-legged and looked at poor James. The gardener lay back with a dumbfounded look on his face and his giant equipment slowly shrinking in his lap, covered in grease, semen and the juice that had leaked from my sex. It took him a minute before he began to gather his clothes to depart. He staggered as he left.

At my husband’s signal Rose hurried over to help me dress. As she slipped my drawers on I giggled despite my embarrassment. With the amount of male seed that was beginning to seep from my stretched bottomhole the undergarments were going to be a mess very quickly.

“So, James,” said Sir Thomas to his son, “who do you believe should win our competition?”

“Well, sir,” he began, “I thought Miss Emma’s playing was very fine and Miss Hailsham’s drawing was remarkable. But I like Miss Georgina’s singing and my stepmother’s performance best.” I wondered if our nudity had affected his decision. He blushed as he stared at where Rose was now fixing my corset back on. Each pull of the laces was forcing another little dribble out of my backside.

“And you, Edward?”

“I, Sir, thought Miss Emma and Miss Georgina were both excellent but Miss Hailsham and Lady Caroline were both the best at their skill that I can even imagine.”

“I concur,” said Sir Thomas, “Miss Hailsham is remarkable, I believe there can be few other women in England or Wales who can match her. But Lady Caroline is also a consummate artist. I am sure there is no other woman in Europe who can use her arsehole so skilfully. I declare my wife the winner: the Aphrodite of sodomy. “

There was applause from them all and I flushed crimson.

“And as the winning goddess you may now choose a forfeit that all the other women must pay.” Sir Thomas voice was teasing.

I looked at my fellow competitors. What should I choose as a forfeit? I felt like asking them all to fellate some footmen, for I should have liked to see Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma do that. But my own daughter would have to as well and that I could not ask. In the end I was merciful.

“I should like all the ladies to come to dinner tonight dressed only in boots and stockings. They can remain that way until bedtime.”

Shortly after, I retired to my room. I actually had Rose clyster me by choice; I wanted to get all of that mess out of my bottom.

As we met in the drawing room before dinner I found the boys there early. Usually they were the very last to arrive, just a minute or two before we actually went in to the dining room. I was dressed in an elegant gown and wore jewellery and had my hair elaborately fixed. Sir Thomas came over and kissed me and whispered in my ear a number of very obscene things he planned to do to me later.

Then the door opened and in came the ladies. Georgina was in the centre, holding her companions hands and leading them in. The three were dressed, as instructed, merely in their stockings. Georgina had an advantage over Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma: she had been paraded naked around the house more than once, often on a lead, and was somewhat used to nudity. She was also excited by being in such a state, which must have helped. She was as ever tall, thin and willowy. Miss Hailsham was the opposite in stature, a little over five foot, with mousy brown hair even on her neatly trimmed bush, hard muscled and with high breasts like firm little apples. She approached her nudity with ever-present determination. Miss Emma was the darkest of the three in both complexion and in her hair, which was brown but so dark as to be near black. Her figure was altogether rounder and she had a black bush on her fine hips. Her breasts were full and lush and I noticed the boys both staring at her. In her embarrassment her free hand kept trying to cover something, but there was far too much to hide.

“Here we are, Mama,” said Georgina, “I hope we have fulfilled our forfeit.”

“Not till dinner is done!” But I knew she was enjoying showing her friends off.

Dinner was lovely and Miss Emma’s evident discomfort and embarrassment only made the boys stare at her all the more and pay her close attention. James took her arm as we went through to dinner and I could tell how much he wanted to touch her more closely, his trousers were like a tent. At dinner she sat between the boys and they pulled her attention this way and that trying to get a better look at her. Finally they all went off to bed.

When my husband got me to his bedchamber he discovered how very wet watching their display had made me, and I found out exactly how stiff it had made him.

Chapter 18 – Another Wedding: At which my daughter is married and my future is assured

The day of my Georgina’s wedding dawned clear and warm, a perfect autumn’s day in which the heat of the summer could still just be felt.

Hirst Hall was absolutely full with our family and friends. My brother and his wife were here with their children and all were suitably overawed by my home. The Devernes were here in force to see their lady (as they liked to call her) given away. Even Sir Thomas’ brother, who was Dean of Lincoln cathedral was here to perform the marriage ceremony. On the groom’s side all the Hawardens were here. We had squeezed people in wherever we could and the inn in Hirst village held some of the younger married relatives. Miss Emma and Miss Hailsham were sharing a room as were James and Edward. I had even offered my bedchamber but Sir Thomas had insisted that I should retain my own private space.

The Old Nursery was now the dressing room for the bridal party and it seemed as if all the ladies had spent the last week in there making sure our gowns were perfect for the big day. Georgina’s was an off-white creamy colour and sewn with pearls. Mine was the same colour but plainer so as not to distract from her, but the sheer quality of the cloth made it quite impressive. Miss Emma and Miss Hailsham were to be the bridesmaids and their dresses were in the same style as mine, but in still plainer style. There had been a question from the Hawardens as to whether Miss Hailsham, as a mere governess, was suitable in this role. Georgina had simply taken her future husband for a quick stroll around the garden and he was quickly assuring his parents that he was sure she was a perfect choice.

There were so many guests that even with the dining table opened to its fullest extent it was impossible to seat them all. Those under eighteen years of age were required to eat separately in the drawing room, which removed just enough for the rest to squeeze into the dining room. James and Edward were not particularly happy about this, but put up with just barely enough good grace.

Breakfast was an informal affair with family and guests coming down whenever they felt inclined. Everyone was eating as much as they could as they knew the wedding feast would not be till late in the afternoon and would be the only other meal of the day. I took my time in a leisurely fashion greeting one and all and savouring my triumph: by the end of the day my only child would be Lady Llanbedr and so in time would be a viscountess. When the King died and the Regent assumed the throne she would be in Westminster Abbey for the coronation (assuming Lord Llanbedr had inherited of course). With these visions in my mind I was genially disposed to all.

Later in the morning we all scattered to our various rooms to dress for the ceremony. The bride and her close family and friends were using the Old Nursery and I went there to be dressed and to help Georgina. To my surprise, my husband was there as was Mrs. Jones. I was immediately apprehensive, surely not today of all days? He smiled his predatory grin at me and I knew at once, he planned something humiliating for me on my daughter’s wedding day. I wanted to beg him for mercy but knew that would serve no purpose except to increase his triumph. In the end I would have to submit, come what may. I shivered at the thought. Please let it not be too extreme.

To make it all worse was the number of people in the room. Besides myself there were Georgina, Miss Hailsham and Miss Emma. At the end of the room stood four dressmaker’s dummies which held our gowns for the day, fussed over by the seamstress who was on hand to make any final adjustments required. Also there were Eliza and Rose to help with dressing as well as Mrs. Jones and Sir Thomas. Nine of us in total and the windows looking south over the orangery and west over the park were thrown open to let in fresh air. Fortunately our hair had already been arranged.

“I thought I might come and help make sure you ladies are properly prepared for the big day,” said my husband cheerfully.

We all stared at him awaiting his wishes. I quailed inwardly. What manner of preparation?

“Perhaps we should begin with Lady Georgina, as we will all be calling her from this afternoon. Please prepare her except for the dress.”

Rose and Eliza scurried to obey and Georgina was swiftly stripped before having all her linen undergarments replaced with the most delicate silk ones: stockings, garters, drawers, chemise and corset. All were in cream with little hints of red piping.

“Your husband will no doubt find you entirely ravishable tonight, Lady Georgina,” teased Sir Thomas. And he was indubitably right: she did look heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Now we need to stoke up those fires a little to keep you hot for Lord Llanbedr. First I think you should say goodbye to your Sapphic friends. Who will begin? You, Mrs. Jones?”

The housekeeper nodded and gave a little smile. She moved to the settee and reclined upon it before tugging up her skirts and loosening her drawers to reveal her neat bush. Quite without shame she spread her legs and beckoned my little girl.

Open-eyed Georgina approached and falling to her knees, began her task. She was utterly skilful and soon lost herself completely between the other woman’s thighs. Swiftly enough there were a series of short gasps as Mrs. Jones took her pleasure.

Twice more this was repeated on Miss Hailsham and then Miss Emma until all were satisfied and Georgina was left with a very sticky face.

“Now it is the turn of your friends to kiss farewell to your sweet young cunt. But ladies, please ensure Lady Georgina is kept as hot as possible. No climaxes till tonight please. We need our little virgin to be steaming for her lord. Eliza, remove Lady Llanbedr’s drawers please.”

Georgina was soon laid upon the sofa as the three women took turns to kiss, lick and finger my daughter’s spread-eagled sex. I saw the pleasure mounting in her face, the flush spreading across her shoulders and neck and her breath begin to come in short little moans. But these women knew her only too well and teased and tormented her without letting her have any relief.

Eventually Sir Thomas commanded her to stand and her drawers were put back in place. She was gasping and rubbing her thighs together as if to bring herself relief.

“Now the dress please,” said her stepfather. “And no sneaking off to use those nimble fingers of yours for illicit purposes, young lady. Keep it warm for your husband.”

I imagined that although she was not particularly partial to men, she would be only too pleased with his attentions that evening, which I suppose was my husband’s intention.

The bridesmaids were soon dressed which left only my own person. I gathered my courage; this would probably be unbearable and yet have to be borne.

“My dear, would you mind changing your undergarments now?” Sir Thomas said sweetly.

Rose helped me out of my dress and my underthings. Suddenly there I was, stark naked before them all: maids, seamstress, housekeeper, bridesmaids, bride and my husband. They were all dressed and ready to go whereas I was completely vulnerable. My sex had been freshly shaved that morning and shone in the September sunlight. I was proud of my body but had no wish to display it in this perverse fashion.

Rose slipped on my silk stockings, boots and corset. I noticed immediately that the luxurious silk drawers and the chemise that completed the set were no longer visible. Surely he did not mean me to go drawerless on Georgina’s wedding day? And without my chemise my breasts were naked above the corset, though they would at least be covered by the dress.

“Now, my dearest, I am sure you will wish to keep your beautiful daughter company in her state of febrile expectation. And we all know just the way to get you warmed up. Please go and bend over the back of that chair.”

Reluctantly I complied letting my breasts swing free, how I wished I had a chemise on. Protesting or begging would be only too useless and only cost me my dignity. I saw him handing the tawse, which my feet had become so acquainted with, to the housekeeper.

“Twelve across Lady Caroline’s arse please, Mrs. Jones. Lay them on good and hard, I need to know that she will feel them for the rest of the day.”

I clenched my teeth and braced myself. The sound of the first blow echoed like a gunshot. I was instantly grateful that our guests were all in the main and north wings. The pain lanced through my behind, the agony skewering me in its intensity. The damned woman left me for a whole minute which meant that the agony had time to wash back and forth over me. The response was utterly unavoidable: my sex erupted in heat and longing even while my bottom burned. Eleven more blows landed, each with a long pause to let me feel it to the limit. By halfway through I was begging for it to end. Each blow hurt more than the one before and my lust was climbing intolerably in league with the agony.

When it was over my bottom was one big flaming bruise. I knew that every time I sat for the remainder of the day (and indeed for days thereafter) I would be in pain and that the discomfort would transmit itself straight to my poor sex. He clearly wanted both Georgina and me on edge for the entire wedding. Well there was no doubt he was going to be right.

I saw from the look on Georgina’s face that watching me humiliated had only served to excite her further. What a strange pair we were, both held captive by our weakness and carnality. Worse, even were our captors to allow it, I was not confident that we would break free if the opportunity presented itself. I knew I could not leave Sir Thomas and was fairly sure that Georgina would not leave Miss Emma behind even though she had no real need for a companion now that she was married.

I moved to where my dress hung to get myself ready.

“Not yet, wife, we still have to get you ready.”

Surely there wasn’t more of this? “Please, Sir Thomas, please. That is enough. My bottom is on fire. Please?”

“I am sure that it is not the only part of you that is hot right now! But I want this day to be a day you will never, ever, forget. And so I think we need to ensure that every bit of that gorgeous body of yours joins in the celebration.”

Every bit? God, please not that. I wanted to enjoy my daughter’s wedding, not endure it in a haze of sexual torment. I was about to protest when he came over and kissed me, there in front of them all. His tongue conquered me, thrusting into my mouth and capturing my very breath.

“You will be obedient, wife, utterly obedient,” he whispered as he broke our embrace. One glance in his eyes, those wolf-like eyes, and I was lost. I would submit as a dutiful spouse.

“Yes, husband,” I gasped almost silently, but he heard. I felt as if I might climax just from submitting to him.
“Excellent, Lady Caroline,” he said heartily. “Let’s have you back over the chair again.” He waved me back to the position I had so recently vacated.

Once I was leaning over it again he approached and showed me a round black ball. He let it rest in my hand for a moment. It was about the size of a billiard ball, made from the densest ebony and perfectly smooth. It was so heavy I was sure that it would sink in water, unlike normal wood. I knew it had not come from the billiard table downstairs, where all the balls were made from ivory.

“Now that we have heated up your arse,” Sir Thomas said jovially, “it is time to entertain that hole between the cheeks you love so well.”

Oh, Dear God, not there. Not that thing, in there...

“Mrs. Jones, would you mind inserting this for me?” And he passed the ball to the housekeeper.

“Your ladyship, would you mind assisting me by yawning your buttocks apart?” The woman’s voice was polite but teasing at the same time.

Helplessly I complied, pulling myself open to make the task easier. I felt the huge ball pressed up against my little aperture. It felt slippery so she had clearly greased it first. Slowly but surely she applied more and more pressure to the object. I groaned as I sensed myself beginning to open for it. Then with a sudden searing pain it slipped into me. It felt huge in there; it was going to be hellish walking about all day with that thing in me. But it made me terribly aware of my bottomhole and that was my husband’s obvious desire. I wondered how I was ever going to get the ball out of my behind...

“Here you go, Miss Emma, why don’t you put in the second one?” And Sir Thomas passed an identical sphere to the bridesmaid.

No! There couldn’t be! But there was. Reluctantly I held my position as the young woman approached behind me. She seemed much less sure than the housekeeper and it was Mrs. Jones who gave the instructions.

“Pull your cheeks apart again, Lady Caroline. Now, Miss Emma dip the ball in the lotion and present it to her ladyship’s little hole. Don’t worry, it will go in. Now apply pressure, slowly and evenly. There, see how she opens? Now, keep pushing... You are having to push the first ball up as the second goes in.”

And she was quite right. I could feel myself being stretched apart a second time and could sense the first ball being pushed in further by the second. I was so uncomfortably full and I suddenly wished my corset was not so tightly fastened. Suddenly I felt the piece of wood slip past my ring and up inside. I gasped out loud. I was not sure that I would be able to walk properly with these things inside me.

“Stand up, my darling,” said my husband, “and walk round the room. I t will help you accommodate them.”

I obeyed and made a little tour of the nursery while everyone watched me parading like a prize filly. I took little steps and I imagined that I could feel the two balls rubbing against each other in my poor bottom. Whether I could actually feel them moving was not important: what mattered was how very full and uncomfortable I felt and how it seemed to focus my entire consciousness on that terribly sensitive part of my body. When I finished my little circle I was before my husband. He reached down and once again he kissed me with a lover’s touch. He knew I had no way left of fighting him at all.

“Once more of the chair, my dear.”

Oh, please, no. Not a third! It wouldn’t fit... and if it did, I would be unable to walk. But I took my position once more and looked over to see what he had planned for me. From behind his back he took a strange looking object, definitely not a ball. It took me several moments to even register what it was.

“Nooo! Please, husband... I am begging you... Please not that!” I was quite beside myself.

He was holding a strange little carving. Like the balls it was made of ebony and it represented the fist of a girl. It was skilfully carved and one could make out the individual fingers and thumb and all the knuckles. The wrist was represented and after that it ended in an oval base. I had seen it sitting on the desk in the library and had assumed it was a native carving from the Gold Coast in Africa, brought back to England by some curious traveller. In my husband’s hand in this situation it clearly had a much more sinister purpose.

“Miss Hailsham, your turn I believe.” And with this Sir Thomas passed the infernal object to the governess who gave a little smile.

“Open yourself again please, Lady Caroline,” came her curt instruction.

“Nooo! Please...” I just could not do this humiliating task, not for that thing.

“Pull your cheeks apart or I shall ring for the footmen to come do it for you, dearest.” My husband was not to be balked in this.

I pulled my buttocks apart slowly and reluctantly. I immediately felt the clenched fingers of the carving presented to my hole. The pressure began to mount. While the width of the widest part was no bigger than the preceding balls, it was the knobbly nature of the knuckles that made it far more painful to accept, not to mention the fact that it now had to push the other objects up my passage in order to be accommodated. I groaned and wailed without any pride or dignity. Suddenly when I could stand it no more it slipped past my poor little ring. Except this time my hole did not close behind it but was held open by the wrist of the damned thing. The discomfort was intense but was swamped by the indecent intensity of the sensations it provoked.

“Parade for us, my dear.”

Once again I was required to make my tour of the room. Even taking the tiniest of steps I felt nothing put waves of sexual pleasure from my distended bottom hole. I would be able to think of nothing else all day.

“Sit for me, wife. Just for a minute in the chair.” His voice tormented me with its sweetness.

Gingerly I lowered myself into the seat. The effect was appalling: the wooden fist was shoved up into my bottom in turn pushing the balls up my stuffed back passage. I whinnied in despair: this was beyond sexual torment, it was torture.

“Stand now, dearest, and put one foot up on the seat of the chair.”

Slowly I complied. In fact for the remainder of the day my every movement was perforce to be slow and measured so as to control the intensity of my body’s response. Eventually I was left standing with one leg bent at right angles up on the chair. What next?

I looked over to see Sir Thomas passing a strap to Mrs. Jones. “Please give her ladyship half-a-dozen on top of her thighs. And make sure it wraps around to catch the soft inner flesh.”

I gritted my teeth and prepared myself.

The first blow landed just above my knee and the leather left a red band across my leg. As my husband had desired the end bent round and caught my inner thigh, increasing the pain. I gasped but stopped myself from crying out. Each successive stroke moved up my leg towards my most sensitive area. With the fifth blow I cried out in pain despite my best intentions.

I looked down. There was now just the width of the strap left between the last mark and my sex. I glanced at the housekeeper’s face and saw her smiling at me. She would have to be so accurate here, if she missed by just a fraction of an inch or if I moved at the last moment then the strap would land on the lips of my exposed sex.

“Waaah!” I howled. She had been utterly precise in her blow, but still the softness of my flesh in that spot made the entire thing agonising. I doubled up and held my seared leg. I could feel the heat radiating from my thigh.

“Change legs please, Lady Caroline,” said Mrs. Jones.

It took me several minutes to obey as I wrestled with my pain and the discomfort in my behind.

Just as the implacable woman was about to begin again my husband came over and ran his fingers through my slit.

“Dripping wet, Lady Caroline, dripping wet!” I could not deny the evidence on the fingers he held up for all to see. Had he touched me for more than a few moments I would have reached my climax.

The second set on my other thigh was if anything worse than the first. I felt as if every nerve in my body was tingling now, sensitive to the least stimulation. I desperately craved my release and was tempted to just disobey him and seize my bud and rub myself to a climax. But no, I was obedient. By now I had no ability to balk his desires.

“Parade for us once more, dearest,” came his command and I did, feeling the heat radiating from my thighs and buttocks and the exquisite discomfort in my bottom. I could feel wetness beginning to seep down my legs.

“Just a couple more accoutrements and you may dress.”

Accoutrements? What could he mean? What more could be done to me?

“Stand still, my darling, and move your legs apart a foot or so.”

Nervously I complied, each shuffling movement rearranging the objects inside me.

“The chains please, Mrs. Jones.”

I shivered at the words and looked over to the housekeeper. Surely the did not mean to have me manacled today?

I would be unable to walk without everyone knowing.

Mrs. Jones approached me and knelt before me. I felt her warm breath on my naked sex and on the reddened skin of my thighs. I looked down and saw her take from her pocket a thin gold chain ending in little golden clamps at either end. Quite gently she took hold of the left lip of my sex and tugging it slightly she began to affix the clamp to it.

“No,” I moaned, “oh please, no.” But my entreaties made not a jot of difference.

When she had firmly attached the little device to me, she passed the chain around the outside of my leg and began to affix the second clamp adjacent to the first. I immediately discerned its purpose, with every step I took, with every movement I made the chain would tug my lips apart and open my sex. It was disgusting and humiliating and I knew that this continual torment would drive me far beyond the limits of sexual desire.

“Please, husband. Please, Sir Thomas, it is too much. I will not be able to stand it.” I begged him surrendering the last shreds of my dignity. Mrs. Jones was now attaching the second, matching chain to the other side. I moaned in desire and despair.

“You will be able to stand it, wife. But it may make you come spontaneously. Perhaps during the service?

Perhaps when your daughter says ‘I do’?”

I looked over to where Georgina was staring at me, opened-mouthed and with eyes lidded with her own wanton needs. Knowing her nature, she probably wished the chains were being clamped to her sex rather than mine.

Mrs. Jones was finished and slowly stood. I could see the desire in her eyes too.

“Once more around the room for us, Lady Caroline,” teased my husband.

I walked and this time each little step pulled my sex apart, making my innermost self gape open. As I passed the open window I felt the cool outside air flowing over the wetness of my sex. I shivered in a paroxysm of lust. My needs were spiralling in the warm September air.

“Miss Hailsham, just your piece to add then,” said Sir Thomas.

We all turned to look as the young governess approached where I was standing. She was holding a little cornflower blue ribbon I recognised from before.

“Oh God, oh My God,” I moaned.

Slowly the young woman knelt before me with everyone watching her intently.

“Open yourself for me please, your ladyship,” she said in a clear commanding voice.

Desperately I looked at my husband but only saw the wolf in him smiling back at me. With trembling fingers I spread my lips. I might have done this just by spreading my legs and letting the chains do their work but that would have been consenting to my degradation and that, despite my wanton needs, I would not do.

Miss Hailsham knelt before me and I now felt her warmth breath on my sex. Gently she teased out my bud. In truth, this took but little effort as I was so excited that the poor little nub was as hard and swollen as it had ever been. Then she brought up the thin little ribbon. I wanted to look away but found I could not tear my gaze from my sex. I watched as she put a little loop about my bud and firmly pulled it tight.

I orgasmed there and then, squealing my pleasure before them all. I could no more control myself than I could stop the sun from rising. My legs buckled and I found myself sliding to my knees. I moaned and gasped as the tremors shot through me.

“Stand please, your ladyship,” said the governess. “And spread yourself. I need to finish off the bow.”

With supreme effort I stood again to let her finish her task. I thought I would climax again as she adjusted the bow to perfection.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue! I know that is for the bride, but it works for you too, darling,” teased Sir Thomas. “The carving of the woman’s fist is quite old; the billiard balls were made just for you; the chains we can call borrowed as they must be returned this evening and the bow is a beautiful blue. Now you may put on your dress.”

The seamstress helped me on with my dress. The final surprise was when the dress was buttoned up. Without a chemise my breasts were naked against the bosom of the dress and I found that two patches of rough canvas had been sewn over where my nipples, stiff with desire, would be. The hard little teats would be tormented as the dress moved over them. Truly my husband had found a way of torturing every feminine part of my body.

When I was dressed I looked at myself in the long mirror. I looked perfectly respectable but felt utterly indecent. My eyes had a desperate and haunted look. I tried smiling and could see the strain on my face. This was going to be impossible. With every beat of my heart I felt an echoing throb in my bound bud and a twitch in my poor bottomhole. Every little step I took made the fabric rub over my beaten bottom and thighs as well as tugging my sex open. I knew I would not make it through the day without some form of relief.

Taking the smallest of steps I followed my daughter down to the chapel, escorted by Sir Thomas. How I managed to greet the assembled guests there and make light conversation I do not know. I just wanted to howl and beg my husband for relief. By the time I managed to reach the front pew I could feel a trickle of my female wetness running down my thigh and soaking my stocking tops. I gingerly sat myself down and stifled a gasp. The wooden fist shoved its way into me and the balls jostled as they moved up my back passage in response. The wrist of the damned carving opened my poor little hole so very wide. I was by now desperate for relief but before I could whisper a begging entreaty to my husband he left me to go back down to the main door so as to prepare to escort Georgina up the aisle.

The bridegroom’s family came over and I endeavoured to make polite conversation. I sat as still as was possible and hoped that they put my distressed state down to nervousness about the day. Finally the introduction to the bridal march began to play and I was left by myself in the pew as they retreated across the aisle to their places. It was at that point I discovered that by clenching and relaxing my bottomhole I could drive the fist and balls up and down my backside. And by gently moving my legs apart I could stretch my sex open too. It felt so good and I could not resist it. I was determined to find some relief.

Suddenly the music changed to the full march and my daughter was coming up the aisle on my husband’s arm. If I were quick I could just manage it before they arrived at the altar. Furiously I clenched and relaxed my little ring. I was practically bouncing in my pew. As my daughter passed me I saw her glance in my direction and her eyes open in surprise. Was it that obvious? As she climbed the steps the music reached its peak and so did I, the sounds from the organ covering my short gasps and moans. I saw both my husband and my daughter glancing over and watching me as I climaxed in the chapel and on her wedding day. I could not have felt more disgusting and ashamed. But I had to find some measure of relief from my torment. I hoped my oozing sex would not leave a damp patch on my dress. Fortunately I knew the fine cloth to be quite thick.

When a little while later my husband finished his part in the ceremony and came to sit beside me, he kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Filthy trollop!”

Just the words made my poor sex twitch anew. My desire was once more stoking itself. My bottom was so appallingly full that I could not take my mind off it for more than a few moments at a time. And each time I let the sensations down there wash over me my need for relief rose again. If I squirmed in the slightest, in an effort to find a more comfortable position, it just made the cloth move over my enflamed skin, the chains tug at my opened sex or the blood throb in my bound bud. It was utterly, desperately unbearable. I didn’t actually climax as my daughter said her vows but by then I was desperate to do so. When Sir Thomas rose to go sign the registry as a witness he once more leant in and, while kissing my cheek, spoke quietly into my ear, “Try not to come while I’m away, slut. Talk to our guests instead.”

With a barely stifled moan I swivelled in the pew so that I could try to converse with my brother and his family who, together with my stepsons, were in the row behind. They must all have seen that I was in a state; I just prayed that they took it for excitement at Georgina’s marriage and not something more. I am not sure that Edward was fooled; he was too like his father.

When the ceremony was finally over I processed down the aisle on my husband’s arm, following Lord and Lady Llanbedr as everyone tossed rose petals over them. I was glad that all eyes were on them as I was sure that no one would be fooled by my smile if they looked too carefully. I didn’t want to smile and nod and walk daintily behind the bride and bridegroom. I wanted to lie on the floor, spread my legs, pound my stuffed bottom up and down while playing with my swollen little bud till I climaxed again and again. I was almost beyond caring and beyond reason.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of unsated lust. Amid my polarised urges to keep a respectable facade and to achieve some sort of relief for my base desires a few scenes stand out in stark relief.

Sitting at the wedding feast between Lord Llanbedr and Viscount Hawarden and making polite conversation while wishing I could bounce myself up and down in wild abandon instead.

Dancing with Sir Thomas in the second dance. It was vigorous and, as he moved me powerfully across the floor of the ballroom, the jolting in my bottom and the tugging on the lips of my sex meant that I exploded in ecstasy, moaning my demented release into his shoulder as he whispered in my ear, “Filthy, filthy whore.”

Sir Thomas ordering me to visit the library with my stepsons. I remembering lowering myself carefully to my knees and frantically engulfing their members with my mouth. By that stage I was so desperate for carnal pleasure that I actually enjoyed the feeling of their organs as they were thrust into my face. I was terrified that some other guest would enter into the room and went through the humiliating task with alacrity. I recall their grins as they said “Thank you, Stepmother” and departed.

My sister-in-law cornering me and asking if I was quite all right as I was clearly completely overcome with the emotion of the occasion. She suggested that I should go and lie down for a few minutes to calm myself. I wanted nothing more than to do just that, but my husband wished me to stay by his side.

My husband and I standing side-by-side on the steps of Hirst Hall in the twilight and waving goodbye to the carriages holding the Hawarden party. Georgina, Lady Llanbedr, sat there beside her new husband and waved sweetly and tearfully. Miss Missenden sat in separate coach with the family servants and much of the luggage. I wondered how she would get on in her new home. I was sure she and my daughter would manage their Sapphic trysts once the honeymoon was over.

Following the departure of the bride and groom the party repaired to the Hall and quite swiftly began to leave for their various rooms. It had been a long and exciting day (more so for me than anyone else) and I was grateful when my husband took my hand and led me to the stairs.

I was surprised when he led me to the door leading to my bedchamber rather than his own. My heart jumped as we entered the room. It was well-lit and Rose, Mrs Jones and Miss Hailsham were all in attendance, the latter still in her bridesmaid’s dress. Immediately I was apprehensive; I had hoped that it would just be Sir Thomas and that he would release me from my torment and take me to bed and satisfy me. I ached for his touch in every scintilla of my being.

“Undress your mistress please, Rosie,” came my spouse’s command.

And so my dress was removed leaving me once more on display for all to view.

“Turn for us, my dearest, nice and slow. And put your hands on your head.”

I obeyed, letting each of them view my abject shame. My stiffened nipples had been rubbed till they were red and sore. My poor, delicate little bud was by now grotesquely swollen and a livid purplish colour. It throbbed visibly. The lips of my sex were puffy and wet and still gaped wide apart. The end of the ebony carving protruded between my red flaming buttocks. I wondered if that sensitive little aperture would ever recover. My thighs were a darkened red colour from the strapping. With each little step I took I groaned as the chains tugged and the wooden objects moved about inside me.

“Lovely, darling, now get over your bed and let’s get those things out of you. Mrs Jones?”

The housekeeper took me by the hand and let me to the bed. Soon I was stretched out on the counterpane. I felt one hand on the tender flesh of my bottom to steady me while the other gripped the base of the carved fist and pulled.

“Aaah, aaah, oooh!” I wailed as the thing was extracted from me. The pleasure and pain mingled inextricably and I nearly climaxed. Then it was out and I saw the cursed object being passed to Rose.

“Clean that, Rosie, and place it on Lady Caroline’s mantelpiece. I am sure she will want to admire it daily.” Sir Thomas’ voice was teasing me cruelly. I actually wanted to burn the thing.

“Lift your bottom please, your ladyship. I need to get the balls out,” said the housekeeper in her business-like tone.

Slowly I complied, helplessly making the chains pull on my sex as I did so. I felt a couple of fingers slip into my behind. I wailed at the humiliation of this woman, any woman using me so degradingly.

“Now push down, Lady Caroline. Bring the balls to me.”

I moaned and pushed the wooden spheres backwards as best I could. Suddenly I felt Mrs. Jones’ fingers hook around the first ball. If the pain of the balls being inserted had been appalling, the agony of her fingers extracting the pair was infinitely worse. My stretched ring of muscle was so sore and so sensitive that I could not help but squirm away from her. In the end Sir Thomas ordered pillows put under me so that my bottom remained up high, while Rose and Miss Hailsham held me down. After the last ball had reappeared I was released and lay there moaning and scissoring my legs in pain, not caring at the further distress this was causing to my sex. Gently I felt hands rolling me onto my back.

I opened my eyes and through my tears saw Mrs. Jones gently raising and spreading my legs. With a gasp I noticed that she was now more than half naked; her clothes and undergarments were draped over a chair. When had that happened? Oh, Dear God...

Carefully the housekeeper undid the clamps and I groaned as the blood returned to these abused spots. Then finally she loosened Miss Hailsham’s bow as that woman watched. The governess too, I saw, was now half-naked.

The blood surged into my little bud and the agony was far beyond description. Despite its searing intensity I climaxed helplessly and more intensely than I ever had before, thrusting my naked sex up off the bed as if offering it up to the entire room. I collapsed down as surge after surge of pleasure and pain bounced about my body. In the throes of my extremis I opened my eyes to see Mrs. Jones above me. She had straddled my head and was slowly lowering herself upon me. As I looked down I saw my husband smiling and noticed the housekeeper had a candle in her hand, a candle she was bringing towards my sex.

Helplessly I licked her sex as it touched my mouth. It felt so strange and so disgusting and yet I climaxed once again as I felt her slide the length of wax into my sex, loudly moaning my pleasure into her mound. I licked and sucked and tried to forget what I was doing while they all watched me.

As the housekeeper finally lifted herself off so that the governess could take her place on my sticky face, I saw my husband watching me with a mixture of lust and amusement.

“We must take you down to London for the Season next year, my dear. There are so many interesting people I want you to meet.”

I might have replied but suddenly my mouth was full once more.

The End (for now).

Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read this careless magnum opus. Somehow it growed like Topsy. Your comments and reviews are always welcome.

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