The Indulgences of Isabelle
Page 23
Most of the others were sitting around a pair of tables, drinks in their hands. Katie was on Duncan's lap and gave me a knowing smile. Tiffany was sitting splay-legged on Stan Tierney's knee, his hand down the front of her bottle-green school panties. Portia and Sarah were cuddled together, kissing lazily and toying with each other's breasts. Yazzie was suspended from one of the beams, stark naked, her pussy open and obviously newly fucked. Osman was behind the bar, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Amy Jane was carrying a tray of drinks to the table, still in her pretty red corset but with no knickers. I'd never seen her look so happy.
'Ah, there you are, Isabelle,' Eliza said. 'I hope you enjoyed your enema?'
'Yes, thank you, Mistress,' I said, the words slipping from my mouth without conscious thought.
'That's what I like to hear,' she said. 'We've been having a little talk, and everybody agrees that you should say sorry to Amy Jane for spanking her without her consent, and for being rude to her.'
'Gladly,' I said. 'Sorry, Amy Jane.'
'Properly,' Eliza stated firmly. 'You are to give her a nice kiss.'
'Yes, of course,' I said. I stepped forward, only to be brought up short by a cough from Eliza.
'I think you know what I mean, Isabelle,' she said patiently. 'Get on your knees.'
I got down, still feeling far too submissive to even think of disobedience but a little shocked for what I was expected to do.
'Do you really want me to do this?' I asked as Amy Jane stepped close.
'From the day I met you,' she told me. 'Something, anyway, not this . . . I never imagined that any woman could want to do anything as rude as this, except me. Now I know better.'
I managed a weak smile. For all her looks and all her shy manner, the Owl's fantasies had been as dark as mine all along.
'I'm sorry,' I told her, 'genuinely sorry, and I'll show you. Make me do it from behind.'
A murmur of appreciation ran around the room. Amy Jane hesitated, but then she turned, presenting me with the full cheeky globes of her bottom, fat and nude, her bum cheeks parted to show a deep, tightly puckered bumhole and a sweetly pouting virgin cunt. I moved forward, closing my eyes in blissful submission and very real apology as I began to lick, tasting her pussy and anus as the others started to clap. Amy Jane gave a soft moan and reached back to take me gently by the hair, pulling me against herself to smother me in ripe meaty girlflesh. I stuck my tongue up her bottom in response, probing deep in her anus to let my mouth fill with the taste as my hand slipped between my own thighs. She started to gasp, her big cheeks already squeezing against my face, and I put my mouth to her pussy instead, licking eagerly even as my own ecstasy rose up. I had Amy Jane's bum in my face, the Owl's big round bottom, the perfect humiliation to make me come, especially when I so thoroughly deserved it. I was rubbing myself hard as she came full in my face, bringing myself to climax seconds later.
'Good,' Eliza said as our mutual shivers died down. 'Very good, in fact. Keep her there, please, Amy Jane, but not too tight.'
The grip in my hair grew looser and I moved back a little, held with my face just inches from the cheeky peach of Amy Jane's bottom as Eliza carried on. It was an awful position, kneeling with my face held to a girl's bottom, and not just any girl. But Eliza had ordered it and that was enough for me.
'We have also decided that it is important to allow each member of the Rattaners to fully express her sexuality, and that we need to give greater consideration to those men who know about the society, which we hope will also avoid some of the difficulties we've experienced this term. This also has to be formal, and fair. You evidently need regular spankings, Isabelle, so you will be dealt with once a week . . .'
'Once a week?' I asked.
'Once a week,' Eliza said firmly. 'Or more frequently if necessary, and by either Duncan, myself or Sarah . . .'
'Sarah?'
'Yes, Sarah. Why not? And please will you let me finish.'
'Sorry, but . . .'
'In addition to which,' she went on, 'we have agreed to establish a rota among the eight of you . . .'
'Eight?'
'Yes, eight. Not Sarah or myself, obviously, but you, Portia, Jasmine, Caroline, Katie, Tiffany, Yazzie and Amy Jane, who are to make themselves available for oral sex . . .'
'Oral sex! With who?'
'Duncan, Isadore, Walter, Stanley, Osman and perhaps one or two others. And please don't try and pretend you won't enjoy it every bit as much as the others, Isabelle.'
'Yes, but that's not fair! At least—'
'Do make her shut up, please, Amy Jane,' Eliza said.
My protests were reduced to a muffled gulping noise as my face was pulled firmly back between the Owl's bottom cheeks. But it wasn't really necessary. I would be doing as I'd been told, because only that way would I be true to myself.
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Sir Richard Francis Burton was a soldier, spy, explorer, linguist, diplomat, master of disguise and the greatest swordsman of his time. He was also a notorious rake, and during the period of his life recounted in The Persian Girl, he carouses and womanises his way around the world. From the depraved 'governess' Abigail and her debauched young wards, to the Ethiopian Amazon who takes him prisoner, Burton's journey leads him to his greatest challenge of all – schooling a dozen lusty young wenches in the more arcane arts of the bed chamber.
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