The Instruction of Olivia

by Geoffrey Allen

  With consummate skill and long practice with Helena, he lifted Olivia's bottom from his thighs and slid sideways across the chair, and at the same time lowered her back again.

  'What's going on?' Flora breathed.

  It was Helena who answered her question. 'Master's going to have you,' she said, planting a kiss on Olivia's burning bottom.

  Before Flora could take that in he was behind her, aiming his cock into her soaking silt.

  'You're going to fuck me?' she asked, wide-eyed.

  Then her hips jolted as Walter plunged savagely into her. It took only one thrust to fill her; she was so wet and hot. Helena watched with mixed feelings of jealously and want as Flora gasped and panted in time with Walter's thrusting. Flora's hips moved in accordance with each powerful jerk of his pelvis as he rode into her with long, slow strokes.

  Helena was quickly back between Olivia's legs, burying her face in the deep, dark slit, feeling the heat of her cheeks against her face. Olivia was like a furnace inside, and when Helena found again her swollen clitoris she let out a loud howl and sucked all the more harder on Flora's teat.

  Suddenly, she drew back and looked up pleadingly into Flora's flushed face. 'Hit me,' she whispered.

  Flora did not at once hear her, for now Waiter was taking her with longer and faster strokes. He had lifted himself up to make his shaft glide against her clitoris, and the feeling of that was unbearable. All she could do in reply was clutch and tear at Olivia's hair.

  'Beat me!' Olivia shrieked. 'Beat me as hard as you like, but just beat me!'

  'Do as she says,' Walter instructed. 'Beat her hard, if that is what she wants,' and he slipped his belt from the loops and passed it over Flora's shoulder.

  She took it and without interruption landed it on Olivia's back. The belt struck just as Helena's tongue touched her excited bud. A shiver shook the whole length of her body and the belt whistled into the small of her back. Fortunately, Helena's head was well under Olivia's legs and in the safety of her fork when the belt struck again. The end of it lashed around hips and buttocks with such force that Helena felt its reverberations go through her own shoulders.

  Flora felt the same go through her breasts, for Olivia had planted her mouth firmly on both nipples and was sucking as if her life depended on it. She had placed her hands on the sides of Flora's orbs and crushed them together, the nipples had touched and Olivia had taken them both.

  Flora was suffering more than anyone else in this sudden and unexpected orgy. She made tremendous efforts to whip Olivia, and indeed had done herself great credit in the way she striped her back and buttocks. But her strength was failing. It would not be long before both she and Walter climaxed. Inside she could feel his organ suddenly heat and go rigid. It rubbed hard against her clitoris and then, with a wild shriek, she flooded her juice from her slit. Walter emptied into her a second later, and was no less forthcoming in his own emissions. A barrage of darting spurts filled Flora's hot, dripping tunnel, and with a groan she let the belt fall haphazardly over Olivia's back.

  It lay there like a dead serpent; the end trailing between Olivia's bottom-cleft, the buckle resting between her shoulder blades. She also was fast approaching orgasm. Helena was almost demented in the way she flicked her tongue into Olivia's slit. There seemed to be no pattern or control. She let her tongue go where it would, and to Olivia it was as if a thousand tongues were torturing her, so fast did Helena move.

  When Olivia came it was with muted sobs and moans, a quaking of her body and trembling lips.

  'Dear God,' she whimpered. 'Help me. Flora, help me.'

  Flora was quickly down on her, kissing her full on the lips, pushing her tongue to the back of Olivia's throat, pressing their heads so hard their jaws ached. She went on tonguing and kissing until Olivia was spent. Only Helena had not come, and she drew back from Olivia's drenched fork and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

  'This isn't fair,' she complained.

  And neither was it. Olivia and Flora, still flushed in the afterglow of orgasm, lay panting on the carpet. Walter had seated himself back in his chair and was gazing proudly at his organ; it was still erect.

  'Sit on me,' he commanded of Helena. 'If you would be put out of your misery.'

  The maid clambered up onto the arms of the chair, which in its design could have been made for the purpose to which it was now being put. Her knees rested on the fabric, thighs well spread, and between her legs the slit was open and wet. With as much skill as her master, Helena lowered herself, spreading her bottom until Olivia, now watching in amazement, thought it would split. Then, with Walter's plum just inside her, she jerked her knees from the arms and took him in a single drop of her hips.

  Flora, who had recovered somewhat, reached for the belt and stole up behind Helena. She lashed without respite, covering the maid's back with a dozen welts in less time than it would take to even think about it.

  'Lay them on hard!' Walter exclaimed, breathless at this sudden and unexpected bonus.

  Helena wriggled under the force of the blows, twisting her hips and bottom as each lash cracked against her skin. She came much sooner than she would have liked for Walter, thrilled at the sight of her grimacing face and the cries of anguish that filled the room, was as hard as a rock.

  But if she thought her torments were over after she had climaxed, she was profoundly mistaken. Flora handed the belt to Olivia and stood back, arms folded across her chest, legs together as if she were back in the House of Correction ordering a punishment. She could not forget with what authority she had beaten, and had commanded others to beat her charges.

  'Complete the punishment,' she said to Olivia, in her old familiar gravelly voice.

  Walter looked over Helena's shoulder. The sight of his niece, naked and holding the belt, was too much. 'Do as Flora commands,' he said. 'Give Helena a good beating.'

  He took Helena under the arms and lifted her clear of his organ, and threw her over the back of the chair. Her bottom rested on the uppermost rung, her legs spread over the arms.

  'You can't miss from here,' Flora observed, staring into the maid's open fork.

  'You want me to beat her there?' Olivia asked, following her intent gaze.

  'Of course. Or have you forgotten how you were whipped and the effect it had on you?'

  Olivia blushed. She had not forgotten.

  The belt sang into Helena's fork, catching her in the open slit. Another four strokes struck her swollen pudenda with unerring accuracy.

  'I can see that your spell in prison was not entirely wasted,' Walter reflected.

  Olivia, surprised at the pleasure there was to be found in beating the maid, continued with her strokes. Up and down her back she went, forming a perfect ladder of welts, each one directly below the other until she reached the out swell of Helena's hips. She stopped for breath and looked at Flora and Walter in turn, wondering if she had delivered enough.

  'And her bottom,' they said, almost in unison.

  Olivia lashed the raised buttocks until she had no strength left and Helena hung lifeless over the chair.

  'I've killed her!' she exclaimed, rushing round to where the maid's head hung between her trailing arms.

  'I doubt that,' Walter replied dryly. 'It would take a great many more stripes to finish off Helena.'

  'You mean, that you beat her like this all the time?'

  'Only when she has been disobedient or rude to my guests, which I am sorry to say does seem to happen with alarming frequency. That is why she is beaten regularly.'

  'As were you,' Flora reminded her. 'You were one of the worst of my charges.'

  'Was she as disobedient as you claim?' Walter asked, intrigued.

  'Not so much as disobedient, more unwilling, I should say.'

  Walter looked at the ring in Olivia's labia. 'Did you promise to obey the man who put that ring in you?' he asked.

  'I did, but in truth, I never saw his face. All I know is that he promised to marry me when the tim
e came, and the ring was to keep me pure.'

  'But you did let men whip and feel you there, before and after the ring was put on you.'

  'That was only because I had too. It was my job, but if I'd known I would never have complied.'

  'I don't believe that,' Walter said thoughtfully, and casting an eye at Helena's punished flesh. 'You were ready enough to suck Flora's tits, and asked to be beaten into the bargain.'

  'I can't help the way I feel sometimes. I wasn't always like this, not before I went into that dreadful prison and was subjected to all sorts of terrible things.'

  'But you did participate. Flora has told me all about you. I know everything.'

  'I think she's learned a lot more since then,' Flora added, rather maliciously.

  'I did suck men,' Olivia confessed.

  'And you enjoyed it,' Walter said, mockingly.

  'I might have, if I had loved the man in question.'

  'If that be the case, you would also enjoy having it up your bottom, would you not?'

  'I suppose so,' Olivia agreed.

  'And in your other hole also.'

  'It is more natural to have it there.' She paused and watched the maid heave herself off the chair.

  She did not seem unduly damaged from the whipping, and when her feet were planted firmly on the floor she rubbed her bottom, smiling lasciviously in the process.

  'You didn't do too badly,' she said, addressing Olivia. 'You made me feel quite excited.'

  'Are you ready for more?' Walter asked. 'My niece seems insatiable.'

  'I am not insatiable,' Olivia snapped. 'You make me sound as if I can't pass a day without wanting a man's thing up my bottom, or in my mouth, or... or anywhere else.'

  'Calm yourself, Olivia. I was merely testing you. For soon you shall meet the man who ringed you, and I have no doubt that he will be glad to hear of your fidelity under such difficult circumstances.'

  'Who is this man?' Olivia wanted to know.

  'His identity he wishes to keep a secret. And for a while you must be content with that. I have appointed Flora as your maid in waiting.' He smiled at Flora, a broad appreciative smile that suggested she was much more than just a maid in the household. 'And I have no doubt that she will keep you safe, and until you do meet your future husband I have allowed Flora to share your bed, unless of course, you have any objections.'

  'None at all,' Olivia replied, too startled to offer an objection.

  'I have instructed Flora that she is never to leave your side, and as a reward for her loyalty both to you and me I have permitted her licence to take you whenever she pleases. Up your bottom, of course.'

  'She did rescue me,' Olivia agreed. 'And for that I shall always be grateful. But does my gratitude have to extend that far?'

  'How else could you repay her?' Walter asked. 'You have no money of your own, or property. I should think that Flora's request was quite a modest one, considering the immense danger she faced in bringing you here.'

  'Why didn't you summon the police?'

  Walter shifted uneasily. 'That was not possible under the circumstances. I doubt if they would have been able to rescue you, and besides, I have no desire to do Effie any real harm.'

  'Real harm?!' Olivia exploded. 'You should have seen the things she made me do. She deserves to hang!'

  'Hush, girl. I will hear no more of your hysterical outbursts. What has been done cannot be undone. There is no need to pursue the matter. You are now under Flora's care, see that you are well behaved, and obedient.'

  Olivia, excited at the prospect of meeting her mysterious lover, obeyed her uncle's wishes to the letter. Every night she bared her bottom to Flora, who took her repeatedly with a huge phallus strapped to her waist. To open Olivia wider, she requested that she keep the phallus inside her for a while, and when her anus had sufficiently opened, she produced another, bigger than the last, and every day or two the size was increased until her bottom would stretch no more.

  'Are you pleased with me?' Olivia always asked, after Flora had buggered her.

  And always the answer was the same. 'Very, but next time hold back your climax just a little bit longer.'

  Flora often tied Olivia to the bed frame and whipped her bare bottom; sometimes she spanked and caned her, and more often than not expected her to suck the phallus that had been fresh in her bottom. Olivia was totally unaware that all this was on her uncle's instruction. She was being prepared for her lover.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One morning soon after Helena escorted Olivia to her uncle's parlour. She was naked, a situation she was coming to accept as nothing out of the ordinary. The maid was dressed only in her drawers, and led her mistress into the centre of the room. The furniture had been previously cleared to create a space before a blazing fire.

  'Please kneel, miss,' Helena said kindly, indicating the hearthrug.

  'Now what's happening?' Olivia asked.

  Helena removed her drawers with a dexterous sweep of her hand. 'I'm only obeying my instructions, miss,' she replied, tossing her drawers over the end of the sofa.

  Olivia watched her go to a cabinet where Walter kept his private papers, and return with a large Oriental jar. When she took off the lid, a sweet, aromatic perfume drifted into Olivia's nostrils. She scooped out a thick syrupy grease and inhaled its vapour.

  'I have to cover you with this,' Helena informed Olivia. 'Will you now please kneel?'

  Olivia stepped backwards closer to the fire, savouring its warmth on her bottom. On the mantelpiece stood a decanter and glass that Olivia insolently filled. She was unused to her uncle's brandy, but nevertheless swallowed it in a single gulp. Then she poured another.

  'Will you please hurry, miss,' said Helena, looking decidedly worried.

  Olivia lifted the glass to her lips and sipped with deliberate slowness. 'Not until you've told me what all this is about.'

  'All I know is that I have to grease you in preparation for your...'

  'My what?' Olivia snapped, draining the glass.

  'Please, miss, I can't say.'

  'Then I shan't do as you wish.' And she lifted the decanter, and looking over the rim took a bold draught.

  'But the master said that—'

  'I know what your master said. But what he wants and what he gets are two different things,' and she belched loudly.

  Helena was about to utter another fearful protestation when Walter came into the parlour. The sight of Olivia leaning on the mantelpiece, decanter in one hand and his favourite brandy half gone was too much.

  'I thought I ordered you to prepare my niece,' he said, turning on Helena, who visibly trembled.

  'I asked her to kneel down, but she wouldn't, sir. She just helped herself to the brandy.'

  'And you just stood there and let her do it in flagrant defiance of my instructions.'

  'But there was nothing I—'

  'Did you try to prevent her?'

  'No, sir.'

  Walter regarded his maid with utter contempt. 'Then put yourself over the back of that chair.'

  With lowered eyes, Helena walked to the nearest chair and leaned over its back. She straightened her arms and planted her hands firmly on the seat. Her legs were still together, as straight as ramrods, but trembling at the thighs and knees. Even from where Olivia was standing she could see the flesh of the maid's buttocks quivering with terror.

  'It was all my doing, uncle,' Olivia interjected, replacing the decanter on the mantelshelf.

  'Rubbish! She had her orders and disobeyed them. Now she shall be justly punished. Fetch me that cane.'

  Olivia followed his gaze to the cabinet where a cane hung from a hook at its side.

  Olivia fetched it, but instead of handing it to him she pleaded again on the maid's behalf. But her uncle would have none of it and snatched the cane from her hand.

  'Kneel on the rug as you were supposed to do in the first place,' he commanded. He flexed the cane in his hands, letting one end go so that it whistled ominously th
rough the air. Helena winced at the sound. 'When I have finished with this wretch she will oil you,' he told Olivia. 'And you will do as you are told. Understood?'

  Olivia nodded dumbly and dropped silently to her knees. She watched, overcome with guilt as the cane slashed into Helena's backside. He delivered half a dozen more in rapid succession, slicing into her buttocks and tops of her thighs. Poor Helena yelped and sobbed, tossing her head with pain and digging her fingernails hard into the seat.

  'Keep your legs together,' Walter growled, when her feet shuffled slightly apart.

  He went on beating her, beginning on the sides of her thighs and knees and then progressing downwards to her calves, halting only when he reached her ankles. The cane would have ascended again to her buttocks but he thought for a moment and said softly, 'Lift your left foot.'

  'No!' Olivia shrieked. 'Not there. For pity's sake, uncle. Not her feet!'

  Walter turned to face his niece. 'If you had not been so disobedient this would never have happened. And since you are now so concerned, you shall assist me. Take her off that chair!'

  Olivia knew not to disobey any further, and went sadly to the maid. She put her arms under Helena's shoulders and lifted her from the chair back.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered, raising the whipped body upright.

  Helena made no reply but hobbled to the centre of the carpet. Her bottom and backs of her legs were a blazing scarlet.

  'Lie her on her back,' Walter said.

  Olivia lowered the sobbing girl to the floor and looked up at her uncle, her eyes wide and pleading. But the effect was lost. Obeying his instructions, Olivia slid her arm under the maid's knees and raised them to her chest. Then she fetched a length of curtain cord and tied it around the lifted ankles. When that was done she used her bare hands to hold them in place. The maid's feet were close together, soles facing upwards, toes flexing in fear.

  'A little trick I learned in Constantinople,' Walter informed them both. 'Usually, the slave would have her feet secured in a pair of stocks, but on this occasion we shall have to improvise. Won't we?'