I should not need to remind you again that if I fall, you will be injured.
I sigh, feeling wretched. Hyde is correct. Our fates are inextricably linked together. Hence my visit here tonight, to warn Ursula that she cannot wed either of us. To marry either would be to marry half a man.
I say we divide the time in two. We each possess Ursula for three hours. What could be more fair than that?
"Fair? You speak of fair? When you crept in here tonight like a common thief, stealing your pleasure. Bringing her roses, for heaven's sake, courting her like a normal suitor."
And you, paragon of the community, where is your bouquet? And you took pleasure enough this morning, spearing her nicely, as I recall. Share her willingly tonight or I shall take the lion's share!
Hyde has me over the proverbial barrel. If I do not agree to his terms, he may usurp the entire evening. If I agree, I hand over my darling Ursula to a villain bent on stealing her from me. I decide to stall him. Perhaps he will weaken as the night progresses and my resolve may hold. If I can turn Ursula against both of us with the truth, then she will reject Hyde as well as me.
"You must give me your word. You will not take her from the premises."
Agreed.
"And you will not breech her hymen."
A clinical way of phrasing it, doctor, but I agree to your terms. Besides, Meg Utterson has made that all but impossible.
"True enough, but where there's a will, there's a way. I know it, and you know it too."
He grunts in disgust.
"Alright, I take the first shift."
And why you?
I merely hiss at him, pick up my medical bag and leave the furnace room.
I enter the salon without knocking. Ursula still lies over the edge of the stage, her wounded ass prominently displayed like a delicious fruit. She whimpers poignantly, but it is more a delicious torture she expresses.
Up close, that bottom is a violent red. I am awed by the color and impressed by Meg's abilities. Even Hyde utters a sound that bespeaks admiration. I suspect both of us realize we have misjudged the fair Ursula; she is not so fragile a flower after all.
When Ursula sees me, she struggles to her feet and throws herself in my arms. "Oh, Henry, save me! My Aunt is so wicked. She has spanked me fiercely with the hairbrush and I am in such pain. And I must wear this awful belt. Oh, take me away from this dreadful house! Tonight!"
"In due course, Ursula. I suspect you deserved the paddling."
She looks at me with a flicker of fury in her eyes, red from crying. This makes me angry and a desire to paddle her myself fills me. I glance at the hairbrush Meg has left on the stage, wondering if she left it there for my use. Ursula follows my eyes. The flash of anger disappears from hers. She throws herself against me again, her body hot and pliant. "Oh, I am so confused! Do not listen to my silly words, darling, only comfort me."
Now that she is standing, her body is encased in white cotton again from head to toe. Take off the night dress, Hyde chides me, as though I am a fool. Yet, I, too, desire to view her naked.
I begin unbuttoning the dress. Her large violet eyes stare at me submissively, laced with an undercurrent of hunger. When enough buttons have been undone, the gown falls to the floor. Her breasts are high, the nipples pink fruits, inviting my lips to taste their sweetness and ripen them. Her waist is slim and from it luscious hips flare. Unfortunately the most interesting parts of her lower anatomy are beyond my reach.
I sit on the edge of the stage and pull her to me, prepared to tell her the awful news. "Onto my lap, then."
"I cannot sit," she tells me, crying "Ouch!" as her bottom falls onto my right thigh.
I brace my left foot on The Virgin's Seat, which raises that leg, and pull her back by the hair so that she is reclining against my knee, somewhat. Her long sunny tresses fall straight down towards the floor. Her hands drop to her sides, the one closest to my body rests easily against my crotch like a subtle promise.
She closes her eyes and lets me hold her up. Her pretty lips part, her wet lashes sweet against her flushed cheeks.
Damp little curls have matted to her forehead.
While I contemplate just how to bring up the subject of the demon who dwells within me, my free hand roves over her skin, caressing her neck, her breasts, careful to avoid the nipples. She sighs and relaxes back against me. The gauze covering the cuts in my hand annoys me and I rip it off in order to wander down Ursula's stomach to the harsh metal surrounding it. Her flesh is soft as velvet, warm in places, cool in others. I brush my fingers over the metal and down her thighs. Her legs spread wide of their own volition. As I stroke the white flesh there, her nipples harden further, standing out from the areolas, calling to my lips. All this time her hand has been busy unbuttoning my trousers. My swollen member now stands out in the air, receiving her undivided attention.
My medical case is near and I open it and reach inside for a Spenser-Wells artery clamp. This scissor-like object is ratcheted so that when used for the purposes intended—holding back skin and muscle during surgery—it stays securely in place. I squeeze the handle ends together and the clamp end opens. I contemplate the best angle from which to approach Ursula's waiting flesh and decide that from top to bottom would be best.
"Ursula, your eyes will remained closed until I permit you to open them, do you understand?"
A small sigh of acknowledgement comes from her and her head nods slightly. I move the clamp to her left nipple, the one furthest away. Cool metal touches her flesh and the tit hardens more from the contact. I release the handles and, with one hand, turn the knob that tightens the business end. The metal grips then bites her jutting nipple, turning it before my eyes into a brilliant ruby.
Her body jerks as she cries out. The clamp bobs in the air but holds its ground. Her little tittie becomes larger and redder still, a berry to be picked. Her hand automatically squeezes at my crotch, gripping my cock hard and holding on to him tightly so that she may brace herself against the pain. I give the knob on the clamp one final twist to secure it.
My darling breathes in quick little breaths through the initial agony until it passes. Her face, which had creased from the torment, relaxes. Through all this her eyes remain closed. Tears leak out from between the lids, though, and bathe the sides of her face and her rosy cheeks.
"My good girl," I tell her, kissing her cherub lips. A small smile plays on her mouth, which opens readily to me.
"Henry. My love," she says, sighing, resting back.
I stroke her body again, wishing my fingers could slip beneath the metal belt and toy with her tenderest spots, but the bands are too close to the skin and I cannot. I must content myself with her stomach, her thighs, slipping under to pinch her steamy bottom, which makes her moan and squirm. The clamp bobs gently and her angry little nipple is slowly draining of color, numbing as the blood draws back.
Once she is fully relaxed again and I sense she is eager for more, I locate a second Spenser-Wells and affix it to her other nipple.
Again, my sweet Ursula cries. Small gasps of agony come from between her lips and her bottom cheeks tighten against my thighs as I tighten the clamp. She squeezes my cock, now fully hard from her urgent touch.
"You have obeyed me and kept your eyes closed. For this, Ursula, I shall reward you. Lie back, my love, and wait."
My tongue laps at her trembling flesh. Tiny goosebumps of sensation appear on her skin and she shivers. I find her bellybutton and tickle it, licking it thoroughly while Ursula moans beneath my ministrations.
Her nipples have paled considerably and she soon relaxes again with their numbing. In another moment I shall surprise her with fresh sensations.
I lick her stomach while I toy with her thighs and what flesh between her legs I have access to, particularly the hairy mound of Venus which so invites climbing. Her legs spread wide for me and I feel certain she would admit me if she were able. Suddenly a solution to my dilemma dawns on me that for some reason I had
overlooked: admittance to her secret room is the key to this quandary. For were I to pierce her hymen, she must be mine! Where have I been? While I played this game of warriors battling for the trophy with Hyde, my victory was assured from the onset with one earnest thrust. I've wasted my strokes, but, no more.
A plan quickly forms. I shall put it into action immediately, as the time is ripe. But first, I must remove both clamps, for I cannot chance any permanent injury to my sweet one's luscious breasts.
"Ursula," I instruct my soon-to-be bride, "in a moment you will feel overcome again." Her pretty little brow frowns and then softens into a receptive posture.
"As you wish, Master Henry."
"There's a good girl," I tell her. "And will you open yourself to my will fully?"
She nods, her little nose rubbing the air, her pretty cheeks pink with excitement. I feel her pulse quicken and her breathing increase.
Within seconds, I release the pressure on one clamp, then the other, and remove them.
Ursula struggles to keep from tensing as the blood rushes back into her nipples, sending pins-and-needles stabbing into them. She cries out my name. My mouth finds hers as she writhes under me. My lips move down to her swollen throbbing tits and suck and nip them, alternating. She squirms and spasms, her hips buckling in my lap as the orgasm takes her. Automatically, her hand strokes my cock and he throbs and pulses uncontrollably, releasing his heavy load. And through it all my brave girl has obeyed. Her eyes remain closed while she suffers these agonies and ecstasy willingly at my hand.
I lap up the tears that pore down her face. She laughs and cries my name again and again, begging me to pierce her deep, "as a man takes a woman," she says, "so I may truly belong to you."
I clutch her to my chest. I came here to warn her away from both Hyde and me. Now I whisper in her ear a promise: "Soon, Ursula, my love, very soon you will belong to me."
Even before the words have left my mouth, I feel a tremor pass through my body as if the earth beneath me has opened up and the devil himself shot through.
Chapter Twenty-TwoGabriel paces the room, impatiently awaiting his wife's return. He listens as the grandfather clock chimes out the half hour. "Hurrumph! Eleven thirty. What could the woman be doing?"
The devil take her! he thinks and opens the closet door.
On the top shelf is a tan box within which is the powder Henry attempted to dispose of recently. It's fortunate, Gabe thought, that he discovered Mrs. Poole at Kensington Market yesterday and recognized the label. After a discrete inquiry, he discovered the box was destined for disposal, or so she said. He deduced quickly her real intent and paid the exorbitant sum of one pound for an ingredient worth a few shillings.
Once he'd taken possession of it, he'd visited Lanyon and gathered his assessment about the remaining ingredients in Henry's potion. Before returning home, Gabe duly purchased them and mixed all together save one. Now that last powder waited to join with the others and then the entire mixture could be heated.
He'd planned on waiting for Meg, to surprise her, but the woman was obviously enjoying herself too much with Ursula and quite likely would be depleted by the time she did arrive. Well, he'd waited long enough. Quickly he mixes in what seems like the amount of powder Jekyll used, then throws in an addition scoop for good measure. He had the sense to smuggle a long-handled sauce pan from the kitchen while cook had her back turned. A bit of absinthe and he cooks the entire brew over the fire in the fireplace.Once it bubbles and changes color, he poured the black liquid into a tumbler. Impatiently, Gabe waits for it to cool enough to have a taste. "Ugh!" he cries, never having partaken of such a foul drink. It reeks of things mouldy and defiled. And yet there is something appealing about this beverage and, despite the repulsive taste, he longs for more.
Gabriel holds his nose and drinks it all down. At first he feels no change. "Well," he says, "it was worth a shot," assuming that something is amiss in either his calculations or in Hastie's guesswork. More than likely Henry was telling the truth: this magic elixir only works on the more bestial creatures.
Suddenly the room alters. It is as though he has turned on his head and is being spun like a top. He claws at his throat, feeling a need for air. His face feels swollen. His cock rises and feels huge, far more out of control than ever. Sweat slides down his armpits and the crack of his ass cheeks. His knees are weak and, at the same time, his legs have never felt so strong. His balls tighten and rise. They are heavy and full and Gabe realizes that for once he will last the night. If only Meg were here to see this alteration! He felt certain she would be pleased.
Suddenly the door opens and Meg strides through. Gabe is surprised at how attractive she looks tonight. He watches her slip off her shoes and unbutton her dress. She slips it off, then unfasten the stays on her Merry Widow by reaching behind.
"Well, Ursula will be obeying more in future, I suspect," she says. "I paddled the daylights out of her. I am concerned, though."
As he thinks of behinds, his eyes travel to hers. It is plump, the girdle accentuating those cheeks that seem so eager for attention. "What concerns you?" Gabe asks absently. "That you went too far?"
"Certainly not," she says sharply. That edge to her voice acts as a dart aimed at his left testicle. It stabs in and the ball quivers, sending a current of energy through him. "I'm worried neither Jekyll nor Hyde is made of the right stuff. A girl like Ursula needs a great deal of curbing else she will not realize her potential."
"Tell me, Meg, do all women have potential?"
She pauses from removing her corset and stares at him.
"I suppose so. Are you under the weather, Gabe? You look a bit peeked. Have you lost weight recently and I've not noticed?"
"I am well, my dear. I only ask to understand you better."
"Me? Well, and after so many years together, I should think you know all there is to know."
"Perhaps not."
Again, she looks at him quizzically. "What is the matter with you? Here, let me feel your forehead."
She rises and places a hand on his forehead, then his cheek. "Well, you may have a fever after all. Into bed with you."
"Not just yet. It's been some time since we've enjoyed a good chat."
"Gabe, I said into bed. You're not defying me?"
"Bring three of your little bags tonight, will you, Meg?"
A gleam comes to her eye but she says, "I'm not certain you're up to anything strenuous. And why three?"
"Oh, but I am. Unless, of course, Ursula has worn you out."
Meg, who never ignores a challenge, goes to the dresser and takes out three little drawstring bags, a pink, a blue and a yellow. "I still do not seen the need for so many."
"Well, give them to me, and I'll show you their true purpose."
Meg hands them over. Gabe opens one bag, but rather than tying it to his penis, as would normally occur, he slips the bag over Meg's left nipple and pulls the strings tight.
"Oh my!" she gasps. "You're no end of surprises lately."
Before she can say more, he does the same with the other nipple, again pulling the strings tight so that she moans.
"Well, this is innovative," she says, looking a bit disconcerted, which suits him.
"Turn around," he says, surprised she obeys so readily. He is equally surprised that he has never taken this approach with her before. Who know, he thinks, what interesting occasions have been missed.
He unfastens the rest of her corset and soon she stands naked before him. Her plump behind seems so impatient for attention. He wonders why he's not noticed until this night such a need. The cheeks are lovely and wide, high and heavy. On impulse he pinches one. Hard.
Meg squeaks. She turns, looking astonished. "Gabriel!
Such nonsense. You will cease this minute!"
Her words say one thing, her tone another. He decides to listen to the tone, which has more possibilities.
"Sit there!" he tells her.
She looks surprised at this order, an
d compliant, as if his own tone has affected her. Unlike her usual self, Meg perches on the edge of the vanity bench.
"Open your legs. Wider!"
She obeys again, and Gabe realizes he is enjoying the power he holds over her.
He kneels between her legs and spreads them wider with his hands. He leans into her cunny opening. Juices glisten along the red slit. The clitty knob is large and erect tonight. He licks it and feels his wife thrust herself towards him. She leans back, resting her arms on the vanity. He uses his tongue like a crop and whips her little clitty harshly. She moans and her head drops back. The smell of her fills his nostrils and becomes the only scent in the room. She tastes tart and sweet and he sucks in her juices greedily. It is as if he smells and tastes and feels for the first time.
When he has her clitty tight and high, he ties the third bag around it, drawing the strings tight slowly until she comes.
He moves back to look at his wife. Her head is back, her covered nipples high in the air and hard-pressed against the fabric. Her legs are spread, displaying her red slit nicely and the covered clitty. Juice has moistened the third little pouch. He decides that he wants to see it sopping wet before they close their eyes to sleep.
On the table by the window is a vase with the left-over birch branches. He takes a handful with him back to the vanity.
Meg, her eyes still closed, moves sluggishly as he lifts her arm.
She begins to get to her feet but partway he turns her and presses her over the bench, her back within easy reach, her juicy ass exhibited prominently.
"Oh, Gabe," she mumbles from her relaxed state. "What do you propose?"
"To stimulate you, Meg, and take my pleasure."
She turns and looks at him, her face showing slight bewilderment and clear interest. "My, but you are different. What brought about this change?"
"Change is always in the wind, my dear, and a marriage must offer new diversions."
She stares at the birches and shivers. "It has been a long time since I've been birched," she says. "Since I was a girl, really."
The Darker Passions Page 17
