"Stand up straight!" she tells him. "Hands at your neck." He groans extravagantly and lifts his hands to the back of his neck, holding his shirt up. His back is marked nicely, from shoulders to waist. Perhaps because of that, his white bottom draws all her attention.
This is the bit he likes least, the one she enjoys most. She removes a pair of her cotton stockings from a drawer, rolls them into a ball and stuffs them into his mouth. "That should keep the noise to a dull roar," she says.
His eyes glisten from tears but he looks at her with longing. The pouch bulges with his genitalia and has a distinctive lift. She pulls the strings one last time and reties them, just to make certain nothing is released until she permits it.
His bottom is flabby. Too much food and drink, sitting too long in his barrister's chair. Too much overindulgence in general. Still, his are the most sensitive cheeks she has every encountered, despite being so well-padded. Punishing them is sheer pleasure and she feels herself growing wet in anticipation. Meg takes a position behind him, legs apart for balance, and begins whipping his buttocks hard. The swish of the switch, his muffled cries, the little hopping dance he does, first one foot, then the other, back and forth, as if he is standing on red hot coals, all of it is arousing. Her juices flow, slipping down the inside of her thighs. She whips enthusiastically and energetically, feeling her breasts jiggle as her body twists. She makes certain to catch the undercheeks of his behind and the top of his thighs as well.
The entire area reddens quickly, a satisfying color that matches his back. She is disappointed, though, that this particular switch breaks apart so easily. Fortunately she has one more and determines to increase his color and the pace of his dance. She considers using a seventh but if she arouses him too much now she will defeat herself and then there will be nothing left for later.
Meg positions herself on his other side and begins switching him hard, up and down and back up again. She strikes with a backhand, which she knows from his hopping to be more uncompromising than the forehand.
Suddenly the door opens. Ursula stand framed by the opening, her jaw gaping, eyes bulging. "Come in and close the door!" Meg orders her in a voice she cannot ignore, for Meg is in a fiercely aggressive mood. The girl obeys instantly and stands with her back against the door, looking stunned. Meg points with the switch to a chair nearby. "Miss, you will sit there and wait until I have finished here!"
She sits instantly.
Meg returns to flailing Gabriel's behind again, reddening it unmercifully with crimson stripes, absorbed by his delightful dance, now synchronized perfectly with her strokes and his moans. Having Ursula watching stimulates her and she senses Gabe, too, is rather excited. Meg finds her actions become theatrical, as do my husband's reactions.
Unfortunately the switch crumbles and she finishes reluctantly.
She has worked up a sweat and retreats to her vanity to blot the moisture off her face and repowder her nose. While doing so, she stares in the mirror at Ursula. "What is it, Ursula?" she says in a voice so very normal that the girl looks surprised by it.
Ursula glances at her Uncle Gabriel, his naked whipped bottom, far redder than his back, quivering uncontrollably. The pouch points high into the air and is a little moist at the top. Soft moans escape from his spread lips. The girl seems stunned. Her face is nearly purple with embarrassment and sweat lines her brow.
"I-I'm sorry, Aunt Meg. I-I...I k-knocked."
"I was occupied, as you have seen, and didn't hear you."
She doesn't know what to make of all this, but Meg can see from the curiosity in her eyes and how she juts her breasts forward so perkily that whether or not Ursula knows it yet, she is no shrinking violet. "I'm glad you've seen this, Ursula. Now you know how married people live."
"My parents are not like you," she says almost defensively.
"Perhaps not, but perhaps. Likely you would not know. In any event, was there something you wanted?"
"There is a man downstairs and the butler asked that you or Uncle Gabriel be fetched at once. He has crashed our party."
"And who is this gentleman?"
"His name is Mr. Hyde."
"Well, why didn't you say so, my dear!" Meg jumps up from her seat, checking her hair. "I must welcome him at once. Go to your room and freshen up, then join us. And hurry. You must meet him."
As the two women reach the door, Meg says, "Gabriel, you will return to the party when you have thought over your actions and come to some conclusion about your behavior. And Gabe, the pouch will remain until I remove it later."
Chapter Seven
"Mrs. Utterson," the mistress of the house introduces herself to me, "but please call me Meg. "Your name is known to me, Hyde," she continues. "I am grateful you have honored us with your presence tonight so that at last we have a chance to meet."
"And your name is familiar to me, madam, in connection with the intriguing salons you host."
"Word travels, but you flatter me. My, what a lovely Martinet." Meg Utterson's hand grasps the rigid leather hanging before my swollen crotch. She runs her hand down the length of the finely-braided whip, pulling it towards her. She has a witchy look in her eye which I return tenfold with a devilish one. "You do not see many whips of this intensity nowadays. At least in civilized England," she says.
"It is a collector's item," I say. "This particular model handmade by a military leathersmith and owned by an officer of Louis the XIV's army."
"Intriguing."
She is not an unattractive woman, a bit on the plump side, yet I find this appealing. Fleshy women often have a greater capacity to receive. We exchange looks. Her reputation is as a dominatrix and yet I know in an instant that her flesh has been flagellated as well, although not lately. And this she knows that I now know.
"Then you have a collection of such instruments?" she asks.
"Indeed I do."
"How very interesting. Perhaps you would agree to come to our ladies' salon and put on a demonstration."
"I would like nothing more," I tell her.
"Good. Friday evening, then, at eight sharp."
"I look forward to it."
"Constance and Louise who are here tonight will be among those present, as will I," she says coyly, "and several others you must wait until then to meet."
"Including your niece, Miss Lawrence, I assume."
"My niece will attend, you can be certain of it. Ah, and here she is now! Ursula, come and greet the renowned Mr. Hyde."
At last I have found the virgin I seek. One whose beauty is excelled only by her innocence and purity. Her brief meeting with the idiot Jekyll assured me that this girl has not tasted of the flesh. And now that I see her close at hand through my own eyes, I know that to be so and am determined to alter that situation.
Her skin is white, flawless, inviting marks, her bone structure so delicate, she appears fragile. She will challenge me greatly. No cynical urbanite, she will inspire me to greater control through her sensitivity, what all the others have been unable to offer.
I take her offered hand and peel back her elbow-length white glove to the line where the fingers begin, holding her exposed flesh in my black leather-clad hand. She looks startled by this intimacy and, I suppose, by the mask that covers much of my face, which courtesy forbids her to inquire about. I bring her hand to my lips in much the same manner as Jekyll did, but instead of merely kissing the back, I press my lips to her palm and lick that sensitive area with the tip of my tongue.
Her cheeks colors delightfully, a dramatic red. I know her other cheeks are capable of that much and more.
An annoying sound, like the buzz of an insect, fills my ears. Jekyll's ongoing protest since I have entered this house have escalated. He threatens what he will do unless I promise to leave Ursula alone. I laugh him off. It is night time now, my time, and Jekyll, the dim-witted dandy, has wasted his chance.
"Your Aunt assures me you will attend her salon this Friday evening," I say, staring brazenly into the girl's
violet eyes.
"Well, I..."
"Our group is select, but I believe Ursula will make a fine new member," Meg says. "Besides, she will not want to miss your demonstration."
"Master Hyde!"
Doctor Lanyon rushes up to me, gushing like a schoolboy in love. "Oh, Master Hyde, I had no idea you would be here!"
"Meg, my dear, who is your friend?" Gabriel Utterson asks as he joins us. He has the look of a man greatly excited and yet at the same time thoroughly submissive. I notice immediately that his crotch bulges at an unnatural angle. My eye meets Meg's—obviously she is responsible for this and she smiles knowingly.
Wilcox also joins us. He eyes my mask suspiciously, as a trained detective is wont to do, and demands an explanation. "A peculiar costume. A decent man does not need a mask."
"All men wear masks," I assure him. "Mine is simply obvious while those of others may be less apparent but are as securely in place." I give him a stare that lets him know he is not mistaken; I am referring to his persona.
But confusion forbids further questioning and, in any event, he is easy to ignore.
"This is Master Hyde..." Lanyon begins.
"Doctor Lanyon!" I say firmly. "You will retire to that chair by the fireplace and wait there until further notice."
He looks like a puppy that has been reprimanded. Ursula's sweet face is all concern and she excuses herself to wander after him to dote on him, the last thing in the world he needs, the last thing I want.
Meg begins, "Gabriel, this is..."
"My name is Hyde," I interject. Both males shake my hand. "I am also known to Henry Jekyll. He assured me you would not find my visit here an intrusion."
"Really?" Utterson says, beaming. "Well, any friend to Jekyll and Lanyon will be a friend to me as well. Of course you are not intruding. Can I offer you some punch."
"I'd prefer absinthe mixed with Brandy," I say.
"Good man!" Utterson instructs the servant to bring three glasses, for Wilcox and himself as well. Meg prefers sherry, and the servant brings one automatically.
This small group is readily given to inane chit chat, to which I nod perfunctorily. But while I drink my liquor, I glance into the corner where the ravishing Ursula stands trying to comfort the forlorn Lanyon. Had I but the time to take him in hand, he would not interfere a second time.
Ursula glances back at our group. I stare directly into her wide violet eyes. She blushes heavily but does not look away so quickly this time. With my heightened senses, her scent is intoxicating, even from across the room. She is in heat and no doubt has been so since reaching puberty. My cock throbs and my hand twitches, both ready and eager to stoke her fire.
Suddenly Lanyon is on his feet. He dashes across the room."Master Hyde, I need to speak with you." His face has broken out in a sweat, his voice and manner are agitated.
"If you will excuse us but for a moment," I say. I grip his arm firmly and pull him to an alcove partially hidden by a cluster of potted palms, out of their earshot.
"Master, you must visit me again. When will I see you? I am nearly healed now and ready for your strict attention. I am eager to serve you."
"And what gives you the impression I seek your service?"
He virtually sputters. "Why...why because you came to me, knew my need before even I knew it. Satisfied me as none before have."
"And none shall again."
He looks stricken. "You can't be done with me?"
"You may count yourself fortunate in this city crowded with desperate minions to have felt the firm hand of Hyde reigning you in. Be grateful for the experience."
"But what am I to do with myself?"
"That is not my concern." I turn to walk away and he clutches my coat sleeve. I spin and slap him soundly across the face. He looks shocked, then submissive.
"Master!" he whispers, a slobbering wretch.
"You sicken me, Lanyon. Go home and play with yourself and when you tire of that, hire someone to whip the flesh from your ass. But regardless, you will get out of my sight."
"You cannot abandon me!"
His cries grow loud, drawing all eyes to us. I refused to stay here and play this game. Friday I shall see Ursula in circumstances more conducive to my plans.
I hurry across the room and offer my goodbyes to all, then turn to Ursula. Quickly I slide my hand around her tiny waist and pull her to me. Her hips crash against mine and I know she feels the swell of both the martinet and my fleshy rod. I press my lips hard against hers. My tongue invades her mouth, opening her wide so that I might explore at my leisure. Around us I heard small cries and gasps. And a sniveling voice calling, "Master Hyde, take me with you..."
Reluctantly I release Ursula. Her eyes are big and bright, her full lips parted in anticipation of something larger than my tongue passing between them. My cock pulses hard, blood surging to the fore, telling me in no uncertain terms the orifice he wishes to enter. But not now. Not tonight.
I leave all of them standing in the hallway gaping after me and race through the dark streets, searching for an outlet for my passions. I find them, a male and female, both eager to please, and please me they shall. I will take them to Jekyll's laboratory where my bullwhip awaits.
Chapter Eight
"Oh, don't be a silly, Ursula. You need a physical examination and that's all there is to it!"
Aunt Meg, in her determined way, has forced me to come here to Doctor Jekyll's office and now we sit waiting for him to appear.
Before this we were at Doctor Lanyon's and it seems an omen to me that he was unable to see us. I felt so sorry for the man. Hastie looked distrait, both the night I met him at the party and an hour ago. Obviously something is pressing on his mind. Perhaps I can get him to confide in me, for he certainly needs to confide in someone.
The party. That entire evening was extraordinary. I met so many fascinating people, both men and women, including the man whom I am about to see again. And beyond that, the scene I accidently stumbled upon in the bedroom of my aunt and uncle! I can think of little else since. It was so strange, watching the peculiar blend of pain and pleasure streaked across Uncle Gabriel's blissful face. I shiver at the thought of such stripes being laid across my bare flesh by a deft hand.
"Ladies, forgive me for keeping you waiting."
Doctor Jekyll bounds down the steps into his laboratory full of what must be medical enthusiasm. In any event, it appears to be the same level of energy that carried him out of the party early the other night, and just when I thought we might have a conversation pleasing to us both. I concluded then that obviously he did not find me as interesting as I found him and I misinterpreted his intentions. Of course, that slight wounding to my ego healed the moment a certain Mr. Hyde turned his attentions on me.
"Have you come for your examination, Miss Lawrence?" he asks, interrupting my chain of thought.
Before I can open my mouth and admit that I find all this rather droll, my Aunt chirps in, "That she has, Doctor Jekyll, and I believe a thorough one is in order."
"Well, then, let us begin. If you wouldn't mind stepping over to my table, Ursula." He fishes in a cabinet for his instruments. "May I call you Ursula?"
"Of course, Doctor."
"Then please call me Henry."
"As you wish."
He pauses and turns. "As you wish? A curious reply."
An interesting spark to his nature, one I had not anticipated.
It does not bother me, though. I find men with a bit of metal much more interesting, not like the melancholy males who normally seek me out. Mr. Hyde, for example, is a man who seems to know his mind and act on it. Now there's a man's man. I have never met someone so self-possessed. He certainly did take charge of last evening, and everyone in the room. When he pressed his lips to mine I virtually swooned in his arms. Ever after he left, the party was abuzz with comments and speculations. Everyone was intrigued, except poor Hastie, who was so unnerved, but why I could not fathom.
The good doctor
checks my eyes, ears, nose and throat for signs of illness. He uses his stethoscope to listen to my heart, although other doctors I've known have listened more towards the center of the chest, not on top of the breast itself. Still, I suppose each has his own style. He taps on my back and asks me to cough.
"She has had fainting spells of late," Aunt Meg says.
"That's not entirely correct, doctor," I say. "I merely felt faint. Of course, that was after the long train ride down from Newcastle, and I hadn't eaten."
"You have been a very bad girl, not eating properly," he says, removing the stethoscope from his ears. His face looks a bit stern, giving me pause. "That is a habit we must correct."
Although I am a bit upset, his voice also sends a thrill through me, for some reason. His eyes lock with mine for a moment and I have difficulty breathing.
Suddenly he turns to Aunt Meg. "Well, she seems healthy enough now." His tone alters again, more to the way it was before, making me doubt what I'd heard a second ago.
As Henry returns his tools to their proper place, Aunt Meg says, "Doctor, may I have a word with you?"
"Certainly, Meg."
They step across the room for a conference, leaving me standing all by myself like a child.
This laboratory is immense, one of the type used for both the living and the dead. It also contains an area devoted to experimentation and I wonder what prescriptions Henry is working on.
I look across the room. Henry Jekyll is a very handsome man. He is tall and slender, without being thin. His sandy hair and eyes are gentle and yet there seems to be a firmness there I notice now which I did not see in the looks he gave me at the party. Still, he is a gentleman. I like that. I wonder if he finds me attractive, although why such thoughts should enter my head at this time I have no idea. I am not the least interested in a romantic liaison, although I realize that's exactly what Aunt Meg and Uncle Gabriel have in mind for me.
Henry and Meg walk back across the room together, Meg looking like the cat that has swallowed the canary and Henry looking non-plussed.
The Darker Passions Page 6
