Innocence Examined

by Emily Tilton

  “A what?” Caroline could hardly contain her astonishment.

  “A kiss upon your pretty little cunt,” said Sir Gerald.

  “Oh!” said Caroline, for she did not know what else to say. The thought seemed so very wicked, and yet also so delicious: Miss Anne kneeling in front of her, kissing her there. Caroline heard herself emit a little whimper at the way the thought seemed to rekindle the fire between her thighs.

  But could Miss Anne truly mean that she and Charlotte would welcome Caroline to their friendship thus? Was there perhaps a little triumph in Miss Anne’s tone, seeing that Caroline must be the junior mistress—the lesser fucking piece? Caroline was so grateful, though, that Miss Anne was not angry with her, that she resolved to accept any such pride from Miss Anne with a cheerful heart. She remembered how strangely lovely it had felt to have Miss Anne spank her, and she found herself longing to have such a chastisement again.

  The roast was removed, and the pudding brought. Sir Gerald spoke to Mr. Vance in low tones, and Caroline wondered, with an again quickening heart, whether they were planning their treatment of poor Mary. Caroline pictured the little maid naked over the divan, and that made her heart beat even faster: what would she see in the drawing room after dinner? All the mysteries, it seemed, were to be revealed, and Caroline must watch, or she would be punished. The brazen courage she’d had in hiding behind the settee to watch Miss Anne and Miss Charlotte suck Mr. Vance’s cock failed her, and suddenly she wished only to return to her bedchamber, and try again, another day, to plumb the depths of her amorous nature.

  Chapter Fifteen

  James heard Caroline’s breathing quicken, where she sat next to him pretending to eat her trifle. He wondered whether she was thinking of the maid strapped to the divan in the drawing room, or of her own fate—the fate Vance had forced James to declare to her, curse the man—upon the stage with Sir Gerald and then the invited audience.

  “Miss Hollins,” he said softly, “are you alright?”

  Caroline turned to him, her eyes wide and her nostrils flared. “It is all so very new to me,” she said. “But I do… I do wish it.” She cast her eyes down to the table for a moment, watching herself push her spoon about upon her plate. Then she turned her eyes back up to his and said, “You will take care of me, will you not, Dr. Fairleigh?”

  Something about the way she said ‘take care of me’ struck James to the heart. Caroline meant that James must keep her safe, but behind that simple, mundane plea lay a deeper need, the need that seemed to match his own. Caroline’s heart seemed to speak through, above, and under her words, saying, “I do not care how many men must fuck me upon that stage, as long as you make one of the party, and that we agree that, whatever Sir Gerald may say about me, I shall belong to you.”

  Did he imagine it? Somehow he must discover whether his fancy was playing him so very false as to pretend to himself that Caroline felt as he did.

  “We shall have our port in the drawing room with the ladies,” Sir Gerald said.

  “Very good, sir,” said Martin, the butler.

  James heard Caroline’s breathing quicken again. He thought perhaps he could even see her pulse in the veins of her delicate neck, so gracefully exposed by the grown-up hairstyle she had affected this evening, her beautiful auburn curls piled high upon her head.

  “I promise I will take care of you,” James murmured, as he stood and helped her move her chair back from the table in order to stand up.

  Despite the thorough preparation of the lascivious table talk, Caroline gasped at the sight of the naked girl over the divan. James, who had seen such things at Mrs. Taylor’s, felt a little lightheaded himself to have such a view in the elegant surroundings of Cadogan Square.

  The little blond maid lay at full length over the red velvet cushion of the low, backless couch, bound at hand and foot to its corners. A bolster had been placed under her hips to raise her bottom, and the divan had been turned so that Mary’s bottom was the first sight to confront the fully dressed party coming in from the dining room. Though James tried to think only of Caroline, he could not deny that Mary’s pert little backside presented in the pale ovals of its cheeks a most diverting—indeed, enticing—prospect. He thought of the section of Dr. Brown’s essay about the importance of using a girl’s anus regularly, and swallowed hard. He’d had the bottom of Nancy Givens, the girl in Shropshire, despite her reluctance, and under the persuasion of Dr. Brown’s pamphlet he felt he should not hesitate to admit to himself that he would like to make regular use of Caroline Hollins’ anus as well.

  Sir Gerald patted Mary’s naked bottom. “Are you going to be a good girl for us, Mary?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, the anxiety clear in her voice.

  “Anne, we shall have you get started preparing little Mary’s cunt and bottom, if you please.”

  Wordlessly, Anne got a little jar of oil from the mantelpiece, and knelt behind Mary’s bottom. The maid cried out when she felt her mistress’ fingers rubbing and pushing to ready her between her thighs for the gentlemen’s pleasures.

  “Mary,” said Sir Gerald, “how do Miss Anne’s naughty fingers make you feel?”

  Mary moaned. “Oh, s-sir… I-I cannot say.” Now James watched Anne lower her face to kiss Mary and tongue her upon her little cunt. The maid sighed and her breath quickened at the lewd attentions of her mistress.

  “That’s a fine answer. Now let me tell you about what’s going to take place. First, Dr. Fairleigh is going to thrash Miss Charlotte in front of you.”

  “What, sir? Why?”

  “You should be very grateful to her, Mary. She is being thrashed because she protested when we said Dr. Fairleigh should thrash you before we fucked you. Let it serve as a lesson to you in how important it is to obey the men who commands your charms.”

  “Oh, please, sir… Don’t thrash Miss Charlotte!”

  “Silence,” said Vance, standing in front of her, and suddenly and unexpectedly dropping his trousers.

  Caroline gasped at the suddenness of it, and clutched James’ arm.

  “Suck my prick, Mary,” Vance said and, grabbing her head as he bent his knees to bring his cock to bear, he commenced to employ the girl’s mouth for a few moments in silence. “That’s it, girl,” he said softly. “Charlotte and Anne, take off your clothes. Move one of the chairs over here, and Charlotte, you get over it. Fairleigh, you’ll find a cane in the cupboard by the mantelpiece.” As he gave these orders, he did not withdraw his cock from the little maid’s mouth, and James could hear how she struggled to please him.

  Sir Gerald stood smiling at the sight of his household arranged as he liked, and superintended by Vance. He turned to James and Caroline. “Caroline, go sit upon the chair just there.” The baronet pointed to an armchair that seemed ideally positioned for the observation of the trials Charlotte and Mary would undergo. “Fairleigh, you may stand behind Caroline’s chair, after you finish caning Charlotte.”

  James led Caroline to the chair. As she was sitting down, though, Sir Gerald said. “We’ll have your gown and petticoats off, though, miss. You shall show Mr. Vance and me that pretty cunt while we fuck little Mary.”

  “Gerrie, you have such marvelous ideas,” Vance said, finally pulling his cock out of Mary’s mouth. “You and Fairleigh certainly have the advantage of me, having seen that cunt this morning while I had to wait in the library. I congratulate you on this scheme of redressing the balance! Fairleigh, I lay it upon you that you not allow Miss Caroline’s shift to fall across her cunt to hide it from view, nor, of course, that she touch it.”

  James felt his indignation rise, not at the sentiment—for he could not help but look forward to such duty—but at Vance’s presumption to instruct him thus. “I will, sir,” he said, “but let me make it clear that I have been instructed by Dr. Brown to manualise Miss Hollins, should I judge that necessary to the optimal success of her lessons.”

  Vance narrowed his eyes at that, and James realized that his
suspicions had been entirely correct—he and Vance were at a little war over who should control Caroline’s erotic awakening. But James knew he must win this first battle, and he clearly had, for Dr. Brown’s word was amorous law to Sir Gerald. “Indeed,” said the baronet, “that is what Dr. Brown said, Vance, and it seems only fair to Caroline.”

  Caroline herself stood in front of the chair, arrested in the act of sitting down. Anne came to help her out of her gown and corset, now that she and Charlotte were themselves dressed only in their shifts, and looking, James could not help thinking, extraordinarily bewitching.

  “You will manualise my cunny, Dr. Fairleigh?” she whispered. “As Dr. Brown did?”

  “Yes, Miss Hollins,” James replied. “I fear that is my duty.” He did not know why he had said “I fear,” but certainly in any other house it would have been a fearful thing for a young girl to have to submit to such a procedure.

  “I think I will not mind it, from you,” Caroline whispered even more lowly, but James saw that Anne had heard it, for she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Was she Vance’s ally? Where would she stand, and how would she advise Caroline, should the time for a decision come?

  “Hush, my dear,” Anne said into Caroline’s ear, though James overheard it. “You must be careful, or Dr. Fairleigh will spank you for being so forward.”

  James was left only with the impression that Anne understood what was passing between him and Caroline, but no knowledge of what she might intend to do with that understanding.

  Caroline, now herself only in her shift, turned to him. “Will you?” she asked softly, with a tiny smile.

  “Oh, yes,” he murmured back. “Oh, yes.” The thought of having Caroline over his lap for the kind of spanking a man gives a little girl occupied his entire mind, and suddenly he thought he could know no greater felicity than that.

  But Sir Gerald said, “Very well, Dr. Fairleigh, have you the cane?” James turned, a little dazed, and searched out the cupboard Vance had mentioned. Trying to cover over his slight confusion over what had just happened with Caroline, he strode to it, opened it, and revealed a panoply of punishment implements: strap, tawse, cane, birch, and even a cat-o’nine-tails were all present. He took the terrible-looking cane, of whippy bamboo a half-inch thick, and closed the cupboard.

  Though his natural masculine urges called to him to give Caroline a tender paternal spanking, he must now give Charlotte Dalrymple, whose bottom loomed a few feet from Mary’s face, pushed out for him as Charlotte bent her face into the cushion of an armchair, a severe thrashing.

  Conscious of the need to demonstrate to Vance that when called upon to administer chastisement, he would not be found wanting, James took up a position on the left side of Charlotte’s lovely white backside, and swished the cane through the air. He had spanked his Shropshire girl, but he had never caned anyone, let alone a girl with a bottom as shapely as Charlotte’s, though he had to be sure seen at least a dozen girls caned at Mrs. Taylor’s.

  He made his voice resolute. “Miss Dalrymple,” he said, endeavoring to sound like a stern schoolmaster. “I shall now give you twelve cuts of the cane, to demonstrate that I am a stern disciplinarian for any girl who needs to feel the importance of masculine rights.” He did not dare look around, though he felt Caroline’s eyes burning into his back, and suddenly he wished that it were her bottom he was about to thrash. Truly, he wished to administer that tender spanking, but his blood and his cock called out also for this harsher sort of lesson.

  James whipped the cane down upon Charlotte’s bottom, loving the sound of it through the air, and the thwack of it against her tender flesh. Charlotte cried out, and James had the cock-stiffening pleasure of seeing her bottom clench and bounce deliciously, just as the girls’ did at Mrs. Taylor’s. He swung the cane again, even harder this time, and Charlotte screamed. A little sob came from Mary, and James glanced at her, and then saw to his surprise that Vance had gone to crouch over her and fuck her that way while James thrashed Charlotte.

  “Charlotte,” Vance said, “I am fucking Mary now.”

  “Oh, heavens!” Charlotte shrieked, as James, at a loss for what else to do, continued her thrashing. The cuts of the cane had begun to make the lovely double lines that he always found such a moving mark of the authority of the one administering just punishment to a naughty girl.

  Mary was crying out and moaning now, under Vance’s cock, and Charlotte kept screaming as James gave her the eighth and ninth cuts.

  “Gerrie, come try the cunt,” Vance called, and so, as James counted “Ten,” Sir Gerald, who James saw now had been raising his hardness in Anne’s mouth, with her on her knees before him, changed places with Vance. Vance thrust himself immediately into Anne’s mouth and began vigorously to fuck her there, holding her face firmly, while Mary cried out under the new assault upon her cunt by the baronet.

  Charlotte sobbed into the cushion as James gave her eleven, and finally twelve. Vance said, “Well done, Fairleigh. I hope you will give our Miss Caroline the same, when she needs it. Charlotte, I want your bottom in Mary’s face now, so she can see how very wet you are after a caning. I shall pull her hair to raise her mouth so that she can please you. Bend well over, so her tongue can get at your cunt. That’s right, girl. Take hold of your ankles. There you are. Lick that little cunt now, Mary. Come now, girl you can do it better than that.” Charlotte moaned loud, then. “There we are,” said Vance, still thrusting in and out of Anne’s mouth.

  The scene was terribly lewd, and terribly attractive to James, but he nevertheless only wanted to see a single thing: Caroline’s face, and so at last he turned away from the general debauch towards his charge, the innocent observer in her armchair, holding the hem of her shift up to reveal her lovely cunny, which positively glistened in the firelight. James could see that the part of the shift on which she sat already had a darker spot where her arousal had wet it. Between the milk-white outer lips, lightly covered with auburn curls, he could see the coral inner lips, looking as if, tidily and primly, they waited for a man to open her and claim her.

  Caroline’s eyes shone, and her lips were slightly parted. Her chest heaved with the excitement caused in her by what she saw. Surely James must take her off the boil? He didn’t hesitate, but strode to her chair, dropping the cane onto an end table. Trying to appear to Vance, who James could see was watching closely, like he did it in a purely clinical way, James pulled a footstool next to Caroline’s armchair and sat upon it, forcing his face into a dispassionate mask.

  “I shall manualise you now, Miss Hollins,” he said, and reached his left hand out to touch her adorable cunt, playing in the soft red hair there. “Spread your legs.”

  “Oh, doctor… oh, Dr. Fairleigh,” Caroline cried out as she obeyed, allowing him to work his hand further down and cup the whole little treasure of her sex. “Oh, please!”

  James moved his fingertips up and down, gently parting her inner lips and demonstrating to her where the cock would go when she should finally lose her maidenhead. “Shh,” he murmured, “shh, Miss Hollins. It is alright. You may have your climax.”

  He rubbed more firmly around her clitoris, and Caroline cried out, her whole body shuddering against the chair. “Thank you, Dr. Fairleigh,” she whispered. Reluctantly, James withdrew his hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Charlotte could scarcely believe how terribly exciting it was to obey Charles and thrust her bottom against poor Mary’s face, completely bent over so that Mary must see her cunny entirely open. She felt shamefully, warmly aroused at the maid’s inexperienced licking and kissing, as well as at the terrible caning she had received from Dr. Fairleigh. Charlotte pictured what Mary must look like with her head held back by her hair, her cheek perhaps stroked condescendingly by the backs of Charles’ knuckles as she worked desperately to draw from her mistress contented sighs and passionate moans.

  She turned her head to see Caroline looking back at her, her eyes relaxed and even sleepy after the spen
d to which Dr. Fairleigh had brought her. Caroline smiled a little wanly, and Charlotte, though she had her head down in the humiliating posture into which Charles had placed her, found she must return the smile.

  Her secret: yes, it was Charlotte’s secret, how much she needed the degradation her lover heaped upon her, and how wet it got her, always. She found that she was grinding her bottom against poor little Mary’s face, and that she had come a hair’s breadth from whispering out loud, “Gamahuche me better than that, you little hussy.”

  It made her think of the rumored plan of the Hebrides, which, from tonight’s table talk, seemed soon to be going to come truly to pass. There, the rumor—well, Anne, really—said that they must live in a harem of girls, but that they two would play the senior wives. Now it appeared that Mary had become one of the other girls, and that Caroline would share her fate after this strange training period.

  Dr. Fairleigh stood back up and took his appointed place behind Caroline’s chair. Charlotte watched her turn her face up to look at him, and realized that Caroline had fallen in love with Dr. Fairleigh. Had Anne seen it?

  Just then Charles put his hand on Charlotte’s hip and stroked it, and Charlotte knew somehow that he did love her, even though his cock made him fuck other girls too. Charlotte pushed her bottom back against Mary’s face, not caring whether the maid could breathe and simply seeking her release, and she got it, shuddering into a spend just as she heard Sir Gerald say, “Vance, I am going to take this arsehole now, and spend there.”

  At these words, while Charlotte’s spend seemed to go on and on, Mary uttered a little shriek, whether simply at the knowledge that she would be deflowered anally in short order, or because Sir Gerald had introduced a finger into her tight rear portal, Charlotte could not tell, because she faced away from the scene, her burning, punished bottom proffered to her maid’s enforced attentions. It seemed to make Charlotte’s spend go on and on, so long that before it had left her body, she heard Mary sob as Sir Gerald entered her little ring.