Devon Cream

by Aishling Morgan

  Keen to have her body flaunted to best advantage, Jervis demanded that she put on fresh underwear. She complied, her every movement betraying nervous excitement as she donned scraps of black lace at chest and hips, a brief corset that enhanced her breasts and buttocks but left both exposed, black silk stockings that fastened with red ribbon.

  Jervis made her pose, enjoying his control over her and her willingness to present her most intimate details for his inspection. She accepted every command, pushing out her breasts while he caressed her nipples through the thin fabric of her chemise, bending double to allow him to touch her between her legs and insert a gloved finger into her vagina. Only when he tired of the sport did he order her to mount the clysopomp.

  She did it with enthusiasm, wriggling into position and pushing her bottom up with a gay laugh. Her high, excited humour continued as he strapped her in place, attaching first her wrists and then her ankles to the frame. The belly-strap came last, forcing her buttocks high and open to stretch the drawers out into a neat ball of taut black lace. Jervis came behind her, admiring the way her buttocks stretched the lace out and how the lips of her quim strained against the gusset. His cock was hard and the urge to simply use her in cunt or anus was close to overwhelming, but he held back, determined to make full use of his advantage.

  A few adjustments to her clothing completed her vulnerability. Her breasts were pulled out of the chemise and the nipples tweaked to erection, then clamped with a pair of brass clips. For a space he played with these, tugging out her nipples and enjoying her little gasps of pain and the way it made her pant and shake her breasts about. He then pulled her long hair loose and tied it into the lacing of her corset, forcing her to keep her chin well up and increasing the prominence of her breasts.

  Returning to her bottom, he gave the lace-clad cheeks a few hard smacks each, bringing colour to them and making her cry out once more. The drawers unbuttoned at the back, and he unfastened them, then pulled the two halves apart to expose her bottom, a perfect peach of soft flesh with the cheeks well parted to show her most intimate details.

  Genevieve’s anus was extraordinarily prominent, a puckered ring of wet pink flesh in a nest of dark fur, wet with her own excitement. It was pouting as she relaxed it, implying an eagerness for entry that set his pulse hammering. Taking the nozzle from its hook, he greased it in preparation for her enema. Between her buttocks it went, tracing the crease down from the top as she sighed in delight at the prospect of penetration. He poked the round tip at the actual hole, watching it slide in among the wrinkles of wet flesh in fascination. Genevieve gave a low moan as her anus was penetrated and Jervis withdrew the nozzle from halfway in. So greatly was he enjoying the act of puncturing her bottom-hole that to do it suddenly seemed a terrible waste. Pulling the nozzle free, he watched the little hole squirm closed with his face set in a manic grin of delight. Once more he prodded at her bottom and watched her sphincter give, only to withdraw the nozzle. Now it had gone in further and for an instant the frilled red flesh of the inner part of her ring was revealed, with the black cavity of her rectum beyond it. Jervis’s grin became broader still as he imagined how his cock would feel embedded in the tight sheath of girl flesh.

  At the withdrawal of the implement Genevieve had given a low moan of disappointment. Clearly she was desperate to have her gut filled, yet Jervis could see no reason to hurry the process. Several more times he penetrated her and then withdrew, until her bottom-hole was a gaping ring of red flesh that pulsed obscenely in the light. Only when she had begun to beg did he choose to complete her entry, stuffing the nozzle well in and telling her to clamp her anus tight around it.

  She obeyed and, with the nozzle held firmly up her bottom, he attached the four thongs that held it in place around her thighs and belly. Utterly helpless, she waited to be given her enema. Jervis turned to the reservoir and its controls, which were complicated but seemed mainly to rely on a single toggle. Turning the tap on the nozzle to full, he gave the toggle a gentle tweak. Genevieve sighed and he knew that she was taking a measure of water in her rectum.

  ‘Remember, not fast,’ she said thickly. ‘Let it build, let me know what happens to me.’

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ he answered. ‘Slowly is always the way to get the most pleasure out of a helpless woman.’

  With a careful motion, he opened the toggle to marginally increase the flow of liquid up her bottom. She sighed and he opened it a touch more, drawing a sound like that of a cat purring from her. Again he twitched the toggle.

  ‘Enough, ah, my bottom!’ Genevieve moaned. ‘Oh, that is so good! I am filling up! I can feel it in my belly!’

  Jervis smiled and inched the toggle a little wider, drawing a fresh gasp from Genevieve as he watched the effect of the water on her body. The flesh around her anus began to swell out as her rectum filled, while her bottom rose slowly with the distension of her belly. Jervis watched in fascination, trying to think of when he had seen anything so rude or so compelling to watch. Certainly the sight had made his cock stiff, while the more subtle details such as her panting and the marvellously wretched way in which she was wriggling her toes appealed to his sense of beastliness. Jervis also kept an eye to the level of the water in the reservoir, wondering how much she could take. Slowly it dropped, and her agitation became more violent, her breathing sharper, her pathetic wiggling motions more pronounced.

  ‘No more!’ Genevieve suddenly begged. ‘My belly is full, that is beautiful, but it is all I can take!’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Jervis answered and flicked the toggle fully open.

  There was a peculiar sucking sound and a huge bubble rose up through the reservoir of water. Genevieve screamed and Jervis quickly turned the toggle back to ‘off’, leaving her panting and calling him a bastard over and over again. Finally her complaints subsided and once more she lay still.

  ‘Now take the nozzle out, make me hold it all in,’ Genevieve sighed.

  Jervis went to work, keeping carefully to one side as he unstrapped the nozzle and then pulled it carefully from her anus. As the nozzle came free, a little spurt of water erupted from the hole but then she clamped herself tight with a grunt of effort. He could sense her strain and it was easy to imagine what she was going through, knowledge that gave him a cruel thrill.

  ‘Put it in me if you like,’ she gasped. ‘The sensation is said to be nonpareil.’

  ‘Cunt or arse?’ he enquired.

  ‘Cunt, or it will spill,’ she answered, ‘but if you want to have me you must bring me off afterwards, with the water still in. Do you promise?’

  ‘I don’t see you’ve much say in the matter,’ he answered, prodding the bindings that held her ankle with his boot. ‘Still, I’m not one to deny a girl her fun, even a filthy trollop like you. No, I’ll fuck you and I’ll make you come but, if you make a mess of my uniform, by God I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget in a hurry.’

  ‘Take your trousers off then, silly man,’ she answered, her tone again showing a hint of coquetry, despite her condition.

  Jervis grunted, then reluctantly began to unbutton the fly of his dress uniform. Remaining dressed while the women he enjoyed were naked or near-naked had always been an important part of his pleasure, yet now he could see the advantages of nudity. Genevieve was wriggling in her straps, and clearly having some difficulty in keeping the load up her bottom. Yet he took his time, undressing slowly and folding each article carefully on a chair well out of the range of any possible mishaps.

  By the time he was naked her panting had become truly desperate and he could see the tension in her sphincter and the surrounding muscles. He gave her bottom a pat, watched the soft flesh wobble back into place and then walked to her head end, sank down and offered his half-stiff cock to her mouth. She took it willingly, sucking him with little sharp motions that mirrored her breathing. Her eyes were closed in bliss, and the sight of his penis protruding from her pretty mouth as she was so cruelly tied quickly brought him to ful
l erection.

  When he withdrew, there was a thick ring of red lipstick on his cock, which he pointedly wiped off on her face and chemise before walking back to her rear. Her vagina was plainly ready, and he wasted no time in squatting over her bottom and prodding his cock to the wet hole. As his cock slid inside her, he could feel the bloated state of her rectum, a bizarre and unfamiliar sensation.

  He began to fuck her, enjoying the odd feeling as the weight of her water-filled insides pressed down on his cock. With her quim filled, her distress became greater, and she was soon grunting and panting in an abandoned, pained ecstasy. He took his time, occasionally slapping her bottom or pulling her hair, all the while moving his cock inside her. Again and again she begged him to come up her and then finish her off, but he ignored her pleas, finally withdrawing without having come. She began to beg for orgasm in a rough, uncontrolled voice, swearing and pleading, asking again and again for him to touch her cunt.

  Jervis put the silver tip of his swagger stick in between Genevieve’s sex-lips and began to rub it about in the wet flesh. Her convulsions became more pronounced as she was masturbated, her cries shriller and louder. All the while her bum-hole continued to pulse, clenching tight against the pressure within only to open and emit a small spurt of water each time her pleasure overcame her resistance.

  Then it happened. Genevieve gave a long scream of unbridled ecstasy as her orgasm hit her. Simultaneously she lost control of her bowels and her anus opened to emit a long spray of water that spurted from her rear in a broad arch to splash on the tiles beneath her. Jervis laughed at the sight, thinking that he had never seen anything quite so debauched, nor so humiliating for the victim. The noises of her climax and the splash of water mingled with his laughter as the arch of water cascaded from her rectum, then stopped, only to burst forth once more, stop again and restart, finally dying to a trickle that ran down over her vagina and into her open drawers.

  Quickly straddling her bottom, Jervis put his cock to her sodden anus and pushed. It popped inside and Genevieve gave a low, animal grunt as her rectum filled with cock. Her insides felt oddly cool from the water, a delicious sensation around the hot tip of his penis. Mounting high on her upthrust buttocks, he buggered her with quick, hard strokes, now intent on his orgasm. She grunted her way through the buggery, then began to squeal aloud as his thrusts became harder. His cock seemed huge in her rectum, a great bloated thing and incredibly sensitive. He thought of the way he had beaten her, of how he had pissed on her and of how she had begged him to torment and humiliate her. Then it had simply become too much and his cock was erupting inside her, filling her bowels with hot sperm as she screamed and writhed beneath him.

  The orgasm seemed to last an eternity, but finally it was gone and he was settling down on to her abused rear. Her whimpering subsided gradually, to be replaced by silence and then a contented purring.

  ‘That was wonderful,’ she sighed, at length. ‘Truly beautiful. You are finished, surely?’

  ‘Almost,’ Jervis answered, and made no move to withdraw from her bottom.

  His erection went down slowly, but at last his cock was limp in her bottom-hole. Her hole was tight, but hardly in the way an anal virgin’s would have been. Only when his cock was limp and he had still not begun to bugger her again did Genevieve seem to realise his intentions.

  ‘No, not that!’ she squealed suddenly. ‘Not after I have come!’

  ‘Why not?’ Jervis drawled. ‘I’ve a mind to get my full pleasure of you while I can.’

  ‘Another time, please,’ she begged.

  ‘Another time?’ he sneered. ‘After the way you flirted and teased, you say there’ll be another time?’

  ‘As many as you want,’ she answered. ‘Whenever you want me, however you want me. I’m yours!’

  ‘So you say,’ he responded and tensed his bladder.

  ‘No!’ she shrieked. ‘I mean it! I’m yours, I truly am yours, truly!’

  Jervis hesitated, weighing the pleasure of filling her bottom with urine against the possibility of another session with her. Her distaste for what he intended was obviously genuine, yet her objection was not born of revulsion for the act but because she had had her fill. With a shrug he began to pull his cock from her anus.

  ‘I must be getting soft,’ he announced, more to himself than to her. ‘When I was young I’d have filled your arse and left you for the attendant to find.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she sobbed as his cock pulled from her anus with a sticky pop.

  ‘Still,’ Jervis went on, ‘I’ll be ready again in a spot and I want you drunk and willing, so here’s a different drop to keep you merry.’

  Her anus was slick with sperm and sweat, an open hole with a sore, red rim from extensive abuse. It had begun to close after his cock had been pulled free, but the insertion of a finger kept it open as he picked up the Champagne bottle.

  ‘What do . . .?’ she began.

  ‘Salut,’ Jervis said cheerfully and replaced his finger with the neck of the bottle.

  Genevieve gasped as her bottom filled with Champagne, then gave a little shocked cry as he pulled the bottle out. She clenched her cheeks hard as the remains of the Champagne splashed out over her naked bottom and into her vagina, then began to pant again as the bubbles in her rectum began to tell. Jervis gave her bottom a playful slap and then knelt to start untying her.

  Genevieve writhed and gasped as he worked on the straps, desperately trying to keep her load in. Jervis took his time, deliberately working slowly and pausing occasionally to take a sip of Champagne. She writhed, squirmed and panted, clenching her buttocks in desperation and alternately cursing him and saying he was wonderful. At last the final buckle came loose and she came free with a great gasp of relief. Immediately she jumped up and ran for the door, her little soft bottom wobbling behind her as she went. Jervis laughed at the sight, then again, more loudly at the gush of water and sigh of deep relief which signalled that she had successfully reached the lavatory.

  Retrieving his clothes, Jervis made his way to the bedroom and sat down to wait for Genevieve. Their sex had been a delight, and he was looking forward to another bout as soon as he felt ready. Genevieve’s devotion also seemed genuine, while her depth of perversion was satisfying, to say the least. Confident that he had at last found a genuinely dirty lover, and also an outwardly respectable one, he drew a cigar from his pocket humidor and allowed himself a broad smile.

  Jervis lay back against the pillows and lit the cigar. Outside the air was still and warm, yet occasionally the window would shiver and a low rumble would reach his ears. This was the sound of the guns at the distant front, but Jervis showed not so much as a flicker of interest.

  That same low rumble was audible on the high moor above Erme Head Farm, and listening to it had become a compulsion for Octavia. Most evenings she would climb to the crest of Hangingstone Hill and stare towards the sea with her face set in an expression of horrified fascination. Unlike Jervis, the thought of war filled her with a numb dread that worsened with every report that returned from France. Yet more and more often she had found herself drawn on to the high moor where the guns could be heard as a faint and distant thunder.

  She had been standing more or less still for nearly an hour when she finally shook herself and jumped down from the low crest of rocks. The sun had begun to sink into the western sky and she knew that Polly would be expecting her. Her mood lightened as she descended the hill and she found her thoughts turning to the evening meal. Her breasts were also beginning to feel hard and heavy, and she knew she needed milking.

  Since the departure of Jervis Maray for the front, they had kept themselves in milk – largely out of habit but also because doing so provided a link with what now seemed the carefree days before the war. Richard Haldon would occasionally visit and take a little, especially the clotted cream that had become Polly’s speciality. Yet his work with one of the ministries in London kept him away most of the time and his visits were rare. The bu
lk of their produce they made into hard cheese or drank themselves. Becky had married and no longer participated, although Eliza, with her husband away in France, continued to do so.

  Approaching Erme Head Farm, she found Alice and Lucy playing happily in the orchard and oblivious to anything but their game. The smell of stew was coming from the farmhouse, and she quickened her pace, finding Polly in the kitchen.

  ‘Postman’s been,’ Polly announced, flourishing a large cream-coloured envelope in proof of this unusual event.

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Octavia answered.

  ‘It all looks terribly important, with a crest and all,’ Polly continued, ‘but I can’t make head nor tail of it, so I put it back in its envelope for you to see.’

  Octavia took the envelope and withdrew the letter within, finding a single sheet headed by an elaborate crest and the words ‘War Department’. Beneath was a paragraph of text containing numerous words she did not understand but the essence of which was clear.

  ‘There’s to be training on Dartmoor for the army,’ she presently announced to Polly. ‘We’re to make the farm available to somebody or other who’s to be in charge, a Major Penrose.’

  ‘Penrose?’ Polly answered. ‘That’d be a Cornish name. I’m not at all sure I like the idea of foreigners in the house. Still, it all sounds frightfully important and I suspect we must do as it says.’

  ‘I expect so,’ Octavia answered doubtfully, ‘but it’ll be dreadfully awkward. I mean, what about us and the milk and everything? I mean, he’s not likely to approve.’

  ‘He needn’t know,’ Polly replied. ‘We’ll make the girls’ room smart for him and he won’t think it odd to find the two of us sharing a bed. If he’s a major, he’s sure to be a gentleman, so I dare say we’ll be fine to have a cuddle without getting caught. The girls can go in the old shippen so long as the weather’s fine.’