The Darker Passions

by Nancy Kilpatrick

  Henry sucks in his breath as though the idea frightens him. He glances around the room, catching the eye of each of his friends. "Capture Hyde? For what purpose?"

  Alan, ever the orator, continues. "In order to bring the fellow to justice."

  "Justice? What crime has he committed?"

  "His crimes are legendary. Hastie and Constance at this very table have been used by him."

  "Used? Surely not against their wills."

  "That's not the point. It is his intentions which are not clear."

  This logic confuses Henry, as it does, apparently, most everyone at the table. He is about to argue the point, playing devil's advocate on Hyde's behalf, quite likely, when Alan interrupts.

  "All this aside, my plan is to capture him and the others have agreed to participate." He goes on to explain the plan. "Since you are here, perhaps you will take the first watch, unless your loyalties are divided."

  Henry looks startled, like an animal caught in a snare, but immediately he says, "Yes. The first watch would suit me to a T."

  "Fine," Meg says, and rings for a servant. When the maid arrives, she instructs her to move the spare cot to the salon in the basement room. Ursula and her belongings are to be brought down there as well.

  "In the morning we shall arrange a proper schedule,"

  Alan says, wiping his mouth and standing officiously. He slides a hand under Connie's arm and helps her to her feet. "We should be on our way, then. Time for bed." He looks at his wife who giggles and snuggles close to him. Alan, Meg realizes, is in a mood and Connie intends to take full advantage of it. As well she might, for his reputation far exceeds his ability to deliver, from what Connie has reported.

  "I, too, shall be running along," Hastie says.

  They all stand and say their goodbyes and Gabriel sees his guests to the door. All but one.

  When they are alone, Meg confides in Henry, "I must tell you of an event which occurred earlier in the evening. Hyde paid a visit to Ursula in her bedroom."

  Henry sighs deeply. "I know all about it, Meg. Hyde himself boasted of his exploits to me."

  "I see. Then you also know that Ursula is now bound and determined to marry him. This, I presume, is the reason for your visit at such a late hour."

  "Indeed, Hyde is the sole reason why I am here."

  "Come," she tells Henry, and stands. He picks up his medical bag and she leads him downstairs, to her secret salon.

  They detour through the furnace room and find a new room, built where the spare coal bin had been. Never traveling to this part of the cellar, Meg would not have found this place on her own. Indeed, Gabriel is a clever soul after all, she thinks.

  The small door leads into a dark space five feet square. Henry must bend to enter, whereas Meg need only bow her head a bit. Within is a comfortable chair and nothing more. The chair faces the wall, into which a one foot square pane of glass is imbedded. On the other side is a darkened corner of the salon where the gas lamps shed no light. Little wonder I never noticed the glass, Meg thinks.

  Through the glass they watch the maid lead Ursula into the room. She then opens the cot and makes it up. Ursula's toilet items are placed on a table and her clothing, neatly folded, on a chaise lounge. When the maid retires, Ursula is alone. She turns, looking about the room she has only visited once before.

  The girl wears a white nightgown which covers most of her body from neck to ankles. Through the thin cotton, her breasts jut nicely. Her waist-length hair hangs down her back and she does, indeed, make a fetching picture.

  One look at Henry's face and Meg can see he heartily agrees. "I shall permit you to visit with her, but first I have business with Ursula."

  "Business?"

  "She was disobedient in a very direct manner. I forbade her further unchaperoned contact with either you or Hyde and made her promise to first gain my permission before any visit. She expressly defied me. Perhaps you and Hyde are more lenient, but I shall not tolerate such naughtiness while she is still in my charge. When I have punished her sufficiently, you may then see her."

  "Alright," he says, an eagerness to his voice, for apparently it has dawned on him that through the glass he shall witness the punishment of his beloved at the hands of another woman.

  Meg leaves Henry in the tiny darkened room and stops off to root through her enormous steamer trunk before entering the salon.

  Ursula looks up immediately. Now she sits so prettily on the cot, her hands folded nicely in her lap. It is a pleasing picture, but not one that fools Meg.

  The girl sees on Meg's face that she means business. One look at the peculiar metallic object in Meg's hand and Ursula throws herself at her aunt's feet, prostrating herself on the floor. "Mercy, Aunt Meg."

  "Get up!" she snaps.

  Ursula stands immediately.

  "Do you really believe a cheap theatric like that will sway me? I am not a man, charmed by a little weeping so that I soften the blows."

  "I...I'm sorry Aunt Meg," the girl says.

  "Now, why do I hear defiance still in your voice?"

  She looks at Meg petulantly. Henry, Meg is certain, has seen this side of her and it's curious that Ursula has only shown this stubborn quality to him and not Hyde, at least from what Meg has seen. It will do Henry good to observe how another deals with it, she thinks, else he is in for it later, should he be the one fate decrees will wed her. At this moment, though, Meg is not certain of who will claim her niece. Perhaps Hyde is the better man. All this remains to be seen.

  "Before you came here, Miss, to what type of correction were you subjected?"

  "I required none."

  Again that testy quality to her voice. "I see. So you were not disciplined because you needed none."

  "That's correct."

  Her tone grows more insolent by the minute. "Apparently you do not see the need for correction now."

  "In truth, no, Aunt Meg. Hyde forced himself upon me. Why should I be punished?"

  "Forced himself, did he? And yet, when I entered your room I found you with your mouth free enough. Apparently it was also free enough to entertain Mr. Hyde's cock and yet not free to call for help."

  Now the girl says nothing, for what is there to say.

  "Ursula, I strictly forbade you to see either Hyde or Jekyll without my express permission. You defied me. I will not permit such disobedience to go unpunished, not while you are still in my charge. You will lift your skirt and seat yourself in The Virgin's Seat."

  The girl hesitates but when she looks in Meg's eyes, Meg readily sees that Ursula has no intention of further defying her. Slowly Ursula moves to the low stool with the hole in the seat. She raises her nightgown to her knees and squats readily enough, lowering herself over The Virgin's Seat. Her bottom falls through the opening and she bends her knees, familiar with the proper position.

  "I shall not tie your hands and legs because I want you to submit to this well-deserved punishment freely."

  "Yes, Aunt," she mumbles.

  Meg stands beside her and grabs a handful of the silky hair streaming down her back and yanks her forward. Ursula gasps. Her hands reach straight out to catch herself. She clutches the edge of the stage to keep from toppling. She is on her knees, her bottom in the air, her head low.

  Meg raises Ursula's simple cotton nightie to her shoulders and exposes that delectable plumped mound of a rear end wedged so firmly into the hole in the seat. Her bottom cheeks, still pink from a double workout today, are nicely displayed and Meg is aware that Henry can see well from his vantage point. "I suspect, Ursula, you believe that whatever I can dish out will be nothing compared to the hand of a man. You are sadly mistaken."

  The girl sighs but has the sense to keep her mouth shut.

  There are many tools Meg could use to make her point, but since she is acting the mother to this capricious child, she recognize the need for something appropriately homey. Among Ursula's things she discovers a solid oak hairbrush, boars hairs on one side, the back flat, smooth
and oval. It is a heavy brush and Meg expects it will carry quite a bite.

  "Since you so relish having your bottom warmed, Miss, I shall endeavour to raise the temperature higher than what you have thus far enjoyed."

  "Aunt Meg, have mercy!" she sobs. "My poor heinie cannot bear much more. First Henry spanking me so hard, then Hyde with his burning powder and those sharp quills! All in the same day. My bottom is so very sore. Oh, do have mercy!"

  Meg drags the high stool down from the stage and places it next to The Virgin's Seat. Henry still has a clear view and her arm will enjoy plenty of room for a good swing. The angle and height are both excellent, for Meg can raise her arm high and simply let the weight of it make it fall down towards Ursula's waiting ass.

  Already the girl is sniveling. Her tears do not hinny Meg, though. "Miss, you will ask for chastisement, else how shall you know you deserve it."

  In a distressed voice she says, "Aunt Meg, please paddle me so that I may understand where I have gone wrong."

  Meg responds immediately. The hairbrush smacks each of Ursula's cheeks smartly. It is a wondrous sound, very solid and sharp at the same time, and produces an immediate reaction. The girl's bottom jumps into the air, bringing The Virgin's Seat with it.

  "Again, Ursula, for we must drum it into your head by way of your behind."

  Her tone is far more distressed. "Spank me!" she cries.

  Meg brings the brush down again, once on each cheek. Again, that lifting of that delightfully plumped buttock. "Again," Meg says, like a school mistress attempting to teach a particularly dense student a lesson by repetition.

  "The paddle. Please, Auntie!" she cries, her tone most sincere.

  Meg rewards her immediately.

  Her arm wishes to spank hard and fast, for she so enjoys delivering a good whipping, but the girl needs correction that leaves a lasting impact. Meg knows the stinging spreads across her cheeks during the pauses, which is an added benefit to a slower licking. She hopes Henry can see the changing of colors from where he sits.

  Ursula is clever. Likely she believes her bottom will numb, but Meg's careful strategy prevents that. She paddles a new spot each time, rounding the circle of those cheeks again and again so that the tops, sides and hyaena are not ignored. The centers as well receive the hairbrush, perhaps a bit more often, since Meg likes to accentuate the high points and watch them tremble as they redden.

  Ursula is responding nicely. It isn't long before her bottom rises to meet the brush, eager for its sharp attention.

  Her sobs and moans are a mixture of pleasure and pain and Meg thinks to myself that this girl can take a good licking. The man who marries her must be up to her requirements.

  Time flies, they are both been having such a fine time, and Meg hears the clock strike eleven. She has paddled Ursula's behind for an hour. The girl is beside herself now, barely able to speak. The hairbrush has deepened the pink of her cheeks to a brilliant cardinal. This behind with its crack down the middle is shaped like a peach, although the flesh reminds Meg more of the color and texture of a red tomato, ripe, ready to burst open and release its succulent juices. She holds her hand above Ursula's submissive bottom and feels heat rising off it. A well-cooked tomato, to be sure. The girl's flesh must be singing loudly because of the songs coming from between her lips. Each smack of wood on bare skin is accompanied by her request for another. Her voice has lost that peevish quality and been replaced by a sweet, wistful, hungry tone. Often when she begs for the paddle, she improvises with words like, "More, if you please" and "I deserve harder, Auntie". It makes Meg wonder if either Jekyll or Hyde is the right fellow to deliver here.

  "Has my message a meaning for you?" Meg asks her.

  "Oh, Aunt Meg, you are so stern. I should think twice before defying you in future."

  "That's the idea, Miss. I'd say another twenty minutes or so should make a lasting impression."

  "Auntie, sweet Auntie!" she wails. "My cheeks shall split open!"

  "Nonsense. They will merely be raw for a day or two, a constant reminder that obedience is worth striving for."

  For the finale, Meg vacates the high stool and takes a position on the stage, sitting with my legs over Ursula's arms. The girl hinny her head and through her sobs she watches Meg lift her skirts. Beneath, Meg wears nothing and Ursula's eyes convey how startled she is by this.

  "Pull yourself forward, Miss, and be quick about it."

  Still gripping the stage, Ursula inches forward on her knees, her red bottom a picture, swaying from side to side, caught in that perfect frame. When her face is at Meg's cunny hole, her aunt covers her head with my skirt. Her bottom is within easy reach of Meg's brush, her lips of her aunt's slit. "You may kiss me now, Ursula, to prove you are truly repentant."

  The girls lips take action where needed. Now Meg lets her have it but good, the brush smacking out a fast rhythm, more in keeping with her own natural pace. Ursula's behind jumps and quivers as her lips and tongue keep time on Meg's clitoris, sucking and licking and lapping at the swollen little mound.

  All the while sounds of pleasure and pain come from her, reverberating up through Meg's vagina.

  The licking has worked Meg into a frenzy and she comes very quickly. But she has promised the girl twenty minutes more and cannot renege. "Continue," she tells her, and enjoy another orgasm before the brush finally leaves Ursula's screaming ass cheeks in peace.

  As Ursula trembles and pants and cries full out, Meg pulls the stool from her bottom. "Lie over the edge of the stage," she tell her, and Ursula does so immediately. Meg slips the cool metal of the chastity belt into the crack between the girl's cheeks. It lines her openings, coming down from her waist at the front and up to her waist at the back. Fortunately, there are but two small holes in the belt, Meg thinks, neither large enough for any normal man to enter. To this piece Meg affixes the waist belt, then locks it all into place with a small padlock to which there is but one key, and that she pockets.

  "There," she says. "Impervious to invasion. Now you will be chaste, whether or not you or Hyde or Jekyll likes the idea."

  She leaves Ursula lying across the edge of the stage gasping, her cunny no doubt as hot as her buttocks, crying her pretty little eyes out in pain and frustration. Meg believes it is as clear to Ursula as it is to herself that whatever Henry offered the girl this morning, and however much discomfort Maw's powder and the quills produced on her bottom earlier in the evening when Hyde applied them, nothing has had quite the effect of the licking administered by her aunt's hand. If she has any sense, Meg thinks, she will worry about her future. Now is the time to test these men, not when the vows have been taken and it is too late.

  A sudden wistful quality invades her. For a moment she considers her own marriage. Gabriel is a wonderful partner and she so enjoys dominating him. Still, she thinks, everyone longs for a change now and again, which is surely as good as a rest.

  The other night, for example, when Hyde enacted a brief demonstration on her bare bottom. It was clear he glimpsed her soul's desires, what her husband cannot see—she might enjoy both ends of the switch.

  She shakes her head. All this is nonsense, a fool's contemplations, she chides herself. She has just completed a necessary task, thoroughly executed, and that brings great satisfaction.

  Meg feels relatively pleased with herself when she reenters the tiny room on the other side of the glass.

  Henry sits in the dark, his face inches from the glass. The dim light shining through the window shows her a man with a semi-hard phallus in bandaged hand. Apparently, she thinks, Doctor Jekyll has been enjoying the show immensely.

  "You may see her now, Henry. The night shift is yours. Gabriel will replace you at dawn. You will, of course, not attempt to touch her maidenhead, but I doubt now she would permit you near it even if there were not a barrier in place. Elsewise, do as you will."

  "I shall," he says, in a voice that, interestingly enough, reminds her of Master Hyde's.

  Chapter Twenty-On
e

  Hyde struggles for ascendency and it is all I can do to hold him at bay.

  "Fool!" I hiss, once Meg has retired and we are alone. "Have you no sense? This is a trap. They expect to find you here and incarcerate you in short order."

  They will not see me here when it is you whom they trust with the night shift. If I end up in jail, you will also.

  "Still, I am in charge now, and you will be silent! Or else!"

  Or else? A hollow threat. You have no options, Jekyll.

  In my heart I know that to be true. This constant jockeying for power leaves us both exhausted.

  "Listen," I tell my nemesis. "Utterson will arrive in six hours time. Then you may reclaim your freedom." This is an idle promise, as I have no intention of permitting Hyde to dominate me again.

  Do you think me a fool? With Utterson here, my appearance will be reported to Wilcox.

  "Ha!" I say. "So you are afraid of Alan."

  Not in the least. He is all bluster, as you may recall from your days at the Academy. Need I remind you of the time when the mature students got hold of him and used the cricket paddle?

  Despite myself, I smile at the recollection. Each of us, Utterson, Wilcox and myself—Lanyon's mother called him home that week, rather conveniently, it seemed to the rest of us—were paddled severely in the tradition of the school. Each newcomer had his breeches lowered. In the middle of the night we were made to grip the Head Master's desk while the fellows took turns laying the cricket paddle on our bare asses. Only Wilcox refused to break and for that they gave him double, then double again, trying to get a rise out of him, but he would not play the game. It was the words they were after, but he could not utter them. We all knew he felt it shameful to submit thusly to another man.

  "Be that as it may, he is now an inspector with the greatest police department on earth," I remind Hyde. "He can interrogate you, that is legal."

  For what crime? Diddling about with his neglected wife?

  "There are others, you know. Lanyon. Various and sundry prostitutes and fancy men, cabinet ministers and high society ladies. Your appetites know no limits, which will be your downfall."