BEATRICE

by AnonYMous

  “Where shall you take them?” Aunt Maude asked.

  “To the stable. It is time they were coupled.” A short squeal came from Maria as Katherine moved behind her and inserted a finger upwards between the globing cheeks of her bottom. “So tight and plump—she will milk him deeply,” she smiled. Her smile had a taste of olives.

  Maria jerked forward and went to kneel at my aunt's feet.

  “M'am, I beg you!” she pleaded.

  Katherine clicked her fingers and Jenny came forward with a leather neckband and chain which she secured quickly around Maria's neck.

  My aunt's eyes were kindly. She gazed down at the top of Maria's bent head.

  “Beg me you should, Maria. What a foolish woman you are.” Her hands raised her skirt. The dark vee of her pubis was apparent to all our eyes through her white, split drawers. Her bared thighs came warm and sleek to Maria's face. Maria lifted her head slowly. Her tongue emerged, mouth hovering about the plump mound whose curls sprouted so thickly. The lips moved against her lips. My aunt's legs spread a little. Maria's tongue made a broad wet smudge around her pouting.

  “Rise now!” my aunt said to her. The chain clinked. Jenny pulled on it and drew the woman to her feet.

  “M'am. . . .” Maria's lips quivered. She looked like an overgrown girl who did not know what to do. Her nipples protruded thickly on her large, milky breasts. The surrounding circles were broad, crinkly. The flesh was firm.

  “You will obey, Maria. Mare and stallion in the stable—it is fitting. Go now!” Aunt Maude ordained.

  Katherine led them out. Through the windows I could see the trio crossing lawn towards the paddock.

  Aunt Maude funned to us. “Go upstairs,” she said, “you should not have watched.”

  In my room I made to remove my dress. We were never permitted in our bedrooms to remained clothed. Frequently now we were inspected. The hairs of my mount were occasionally trimmed to form a neat line below my navel. It would make the rest of my curls cluster more thickly, Katherine had said. She entered as I drew my dress up to my waist in preparation for removing it. Without halting her pace she stepped quickly forward and cupped the naked cheeks I exposed. I wriggled immediately to her fondling touch.

  “Do you want to go to the water closet?” she asked. I nodded. I had drunk much wine. “And I—come with me.”

  The water closet had been newly installed. There were not then many in use. The annex in which it stood was large. A mirror was fastened to the door which faced the white and blue-flowered basin. Leading within and bidding me to lock the door, Katherine immediately raised her dress and squatted.

  “Hold me—hold me while I do it,” she murmured.

  I held back. I hesitated, but she seized my wrist and drew my hand between her thighs. The hairs of her sex around the pouting lips tickled my fingers. A murmur escaped her mouth that I recognised as one of deep pleasure. I felt her moistness, tire oily slit. Her arm came up and drew my face down., Our mouths merged in a misty sweetness. My senses swam. Impulsively I cupped her furred treasure which of a sudden gushed out a fine golden rain over my palm as her tongue intruded into my mouth. Its long wet coiling around my own tongue together with the warm flooding over my hand hypnotised me. She gripped my wrists until the last trickle.

  “You now—you do it,” she said.

  I protested weakly. Rising, she moved me around and raised my dress. My bottom was presented to the bowl. My knees trembled. I loosed my waiting flow in turn, drenching her palm and fingers while we kissed. She held me until the last seepings. Then we dipped our hands into a bowl of water and dried them on a thin towel that hung on a nail.

  Emerging, Katherine laid a hand on my shoulder. “Your uncle wishes now to see you,” she said. “He waits in his study.”

  I had not visited the sanctum before. My footsteps along the passageway slowed. Katherine's hand pressed lightly against the small of my back. “Do not be wilful,” she urged. The kaleidoscope of my thoughts spun. The moment we entered, my uncle's arms engaged me. I pulsed in his arms like a small bird taken in the hand.

  “Has she been good?” he asked of Katherine over my shoulder. A laugh came from her. A sprinkling of falling silver leaves.

  “She wet my hand in the closet,” Katherine said, “her thighs are wet still. Feel her.”

  Moving swiftly up behind me she raised my dress clear to my hips, then caught my arms and drew them tightly behind me.

  “Open your legs and show him. See—the damp is still on her thighs,” she said. My face was scarlet. I writhed helplessly in her grasp while my uncle surveyed me at his leisure, the slimness of my calves, upswelling of thighs, the trimness of curls where my treasure was entrapped. White of belly.

  Of a sudden then I was flung against him. His prodder, hidden by his breeches, stung my thigh. In his bear hug I was lifted, swung. The edge of a waiting couch came against the backs of his knees. In falling he drew me with a simple motion over his lap, my jellied breasts exposed in turn by the upwreathing of my dress.

  “No, Uncle, no!”

  My gasp came in the upsweeping of his hand which blasted down on to my naked bottom.

  I yelped, I cried. The burning was immense.

  “No, no, no, NO!” I sobbed again. My training had left me. Fire blazed in my cheeks. My legs kicked. I clawed at the carpet. The splatting of his palm came down again and again. I was woman and child. My bottom reared and flamed. Pearls of tears cascaded down my cheeks.

  “Ya-aaaah!” I screeched again and again until he stopped and I lay limp, helpless to his caressing. The big palm glossed my globe, his fingers delved. I burbled out my sorrows. His free hand sought my dangling gourds.

  “Get up, Beatrice!” Katherine intoned.

  Blear-eyed and wriggling like a fish I came upright. Her arms clasped my waist tightly, allowing the insensate wriggling of my bottom to continue. Her mouth sought mine. I choked. Salt tears were at my lips. Her voice coaxed me, murmuring upon my mouth, breath to breath. A haze of wine and perfume. She had raised her dress. Our stocking tops rubbed together. The cream of my bubbling bubbled to her lips. Cunningly she parted her legs, rubbing her slit against mine, her hold not lessening about me.

  “How oily your quiet—how stiff your nipples, sweet.”

  I gulped her words within my mouth. Wildly they swam, my head invading. Gulping to pulping of lips and tongues. Hot tongues in my bottom licked my groove. Long she held me, coaxing, kissing. My torso shimmered. A stickiness between our bellies grew—a mist of perspiration. In silence my uncle sat behind me waiting.

  The stinging in my bottom eased, became a throbbing. Lost in time and space I stood, Her mouth was my haven. A strange torpor seized me. I felt my legs parted until I stood straddled. Katherine's fingertips quested my globe, parted its cheeks.

  “Let him see—let him see, Beatrice. He has stilled you, has he not—after your whipping?”

  “St . . . st . . . st. . . .” I stuttered. Her fingers clawed the opening of my cheeks. She held me but loosely. An insolence of power.

  “Stilled, yes, Beatrice. His rod in your bottom. A single plunge within. We call it that. Move backwards now. Move slowly, inch by inch.”

  In the cobwebs in the comers were there words? Released, my hands caught empty air, fastened upon the wraiths of yesterdays. With a small shriek I fell upon my uncle's lap. Exposed, his penis upthrust 'twixt my thighs. My bottom churned, uplifted, fell—the velvety knob of his penis-prober against my belly.

  I bounced, I burbled, twisted and was held. Then Katherine bent over me. My chin upraised. I felt him jerk. Her working fingers round his penis worked. Her knuckles grazed my belly in his working. Her eyes were laughter. Her hand moved faster. His hands beneath my armpits weighed my breasts. The bud of my slit swelled, my rosy clitty. His balls chattered against my bottom.' A finger sought my nest and rubbed.

  My uncle groaned. His teeth bit lightly into my shoulder. His palms burnished my stiffened nipples. I felt his loins move in t
heir strength. Of a sudden, thick jets of sperm spattered my belly. I melted, died. I moistened his balls in my spending. My breasts swelled. My belly was wet with his come. The last drops sprinkled. I swayed back to his swaying, legs apart.

  “Go,” Katherine said. She pulled me up, my dress high-wreathed. The door mouth opened, swallowed me. There was a sound of kissing behind me.

  His come dried quickly on my skin. Some had spattered the tops of my stockings. There was quiet in the house as always, as if everyone had left. From the landing window I looked out upon the lawn and saw Caroline lying on the grass. Jenny was kissing her.

  I lay down on my bed. The ceiling darkened and lowered until it enfolded me.

  I ran through caverns and saw magic lights.

  SIXTEEN

  AUNT MAUDE wakened me in my early morning warmth. She brought me tea. I sat up and drank from a translucent cup.

  “You were bad yesterday—do you know you were bad?” she asked. She fondled my hair while I drank. I did not know what to answer. Often in those days I did not know.

  My aunt drew down the sheet and tutted. “Your stockings are laddered.” she said. I had not bothered to take them off. She rose and took new ones from a drawer. The sheet was laid down to the end of the bed. Caressing my legs she drew off my stockings and replaced them. The new, black ones were of openwork style that came to the very tops of my thighs. “It is better so,” she said and waited until I had finished the tea.

  “You will be a good girl now, Beatrice, will you?”

  I said yes with my eyes. My eyes were soft with the morning. My aunt removed my nightdress and attended to my face with powder and rouge.

  “Maria was bad—do you remember?” she asked.

  I said yes. My voice was soft with the morning. It was yesterday or the day before. I had forgotten the day.

  “Amanda improves a little. Arabella is properly settled now of course,” Aunt Maude continued. She glossed my long hair with a brush. Its bristles tickled my back. “They are not as you are, Beatrice. Turn over now—your bottom up, well up.”

  I obeyed. I drew my knees up. I was to be punished for my wickedness in the water closet and the study. My wrists were strapped to the sides of the beds where the iron supports ran beneath the mattress. Then my ankles.

  “Dip your back properly—present yourself, Beatrice!” Her tone was sharp. When I did, she moved back behind me. I laid my cheek on the pillow and waited. “Such a perfect bottom—you surpass us all,” she breathed.

  The whip was in her hand, taken from beneath my pillow. The thongs flicked out, making me arch and rear like a filly. I turned my face inwards and bit into my pillow. The tips stung and searched me—messengers of seeking. They sought my crevices. Their small mouths nipped and made me writhe. Heat expanded. Tendrils of fire—hot in their seeking. The hissing hissed to my bold cheeks, my pumpkin, skirting my offered fig, my honeypot. Much as I squirmed and gasped the sensation had its bitter sweetness. The straps held me.

  A sound beyond. The whip fell. My face rustled in its hiding in the pillow. My uncle entered. I knew his steps, the heavy footsteps falling. I struggled at my straps. My hips weaved. My eyes closed, opened, closed. The bed sagged between my legs—my legs splayed wide.

  “No, Uncle, No!”

  “Be quiet, Beatrice!” Her hand stroked my hair. “Slap her hard, Thomas, if she wriggles. She must learn!”

  I gargled, gurgled, squealed. Thong-kissed, my cheeks were parted. The knob of his wicked nosed against my O, the puckered rim. Hands clasped my hips and stilled their wayward motions. The rim yielded. I received an inch of throbbing shaft. I endeavoured to tighten. Too late. The piston pistoned. Half his cock was sheathed.

  “How tight she grips!” he groaned. Subtle and smooth he urged it more within. “What a bottom of glory—hot hot, how clinging! Your tongue, Maude!”

  I heard their lips, the licking. Her hand slipped beneath my belly, fondled the lips of my quim and parted them, seeking my clit. I bucked. The movement allowed my uncle's prick to bury itself farther. Their lips sucked apart. I moaned in my writhings, in his steely grip.

  “Aaaaah!” I gasped, my breath expelled. Without warning he had lodged it full within. The long thick prick throbbed deep within my bottom. Leaning over me, his palms cupped my swaying breasts.

  My aunt moved back, forcing her way beneath me where I knelt. My head swam. My moistening anus held its velvet grip. Half-emerging, his tool sheathed itself to the full again, emerged, and then repeated the gesture. Sparks sprinkled in my belly. My hot cheeks churned against his form.

  Aunt Maude drew my mouth down upon her own.

  “Move your bottom, Beatrice—move it on his cock.”

  I blubbered in her mouth. Her tongue lapped my seepings. Moving more easily now his stiff penis commenced its majestic indriving. I jolted with his jolts. A sharp tingling sweetness in my slit increased.

  “Move your bottom—you are on the rocking horse—pretend.”

  Coarse in her excitement, my aunt clasped my cheeks. Our mouths were sucking sponges together. I lapped as greedily as she. I moved my hips. An insensate lust seized me to feel his spurting. Lewdly I churned my bottom, drawing hoarse cries of delight from my uncle whose cock pistoned me ever faster. His hands caressed my stockinged thighs. They joined with my aunt's in fondling my breasts.

  “Yes!”

  In my aunt's mouth I moaned my lostness.

  “Make him come in your bottom, Beatrice.”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you not know your power, my love? Ram his belly empty his balls!”

  The words . . . were they the words . . . the power? I moved, I choked, my senses swirled. My tongue in my aunt's mouth, I drew the cheeks of my bottom forward until I could almost feel the knob at my rim.

  “Hold now!” Aunt Maude instructed. She had slid from beneath me and joined her husband. I squeezed upon the knob which like a plum was lodged just within. “Be still, Thomas!” I heard, “Beatrice, you will move at your wish now.”

  Head hung, my lips pursed tight beyond her seeing. A final test of my total obedience? The leaves of old albums turned their pages slowly in my mind. My teeth chattered briefly. The lure was now exquisite. Unmoving as my uncle was in his stillness, I urged back. A certain oiliness between us had eased the passage. My bottom expanded comfortably but tightly round his tool. I heard his breathing come more coarsely as inch by inch I absorbed it to the full.

  “No movement, Thomas,” my aunt breathed. A small husky sob escaped me. I began to jerk my bottom in little frenetic stabs. Each one allowed me to feel the full length of his pestle. The rubbery rim of my anus mouthed it more tightly. I could accommodate my pressure, as it seemed.

  “At your own pace, Beatrice. Are you coming?”

  I could scarce breathe for the excitement of sensations. The feeling was unique. The heat in my bottom added to the wicked, itchy-burning of my submission. The pressure of my cheeks to his belly in the slow backward strokes had an intimacy all its own.

  I had come twice in far-faint thrilling spillings. Lifting my head slightly, I rotated my bottom with his cock half lodged within me. His croaks were my reward. The urgent throbbings of his tool redoubled.

  “You wish him to come, Beatrice?”

  I did not understand. Why was I asked? Who then was master here? His hands no longer held my hips. Each movement was of my own volition.

  “Y . . y . . . yes,” I stammered. My voice was a small girl voice. Sunlight in the attic, hazed with dust. The stone cooler where the wine had waited in our aftermaths. The wrigglings of my bottom as I descended the ladder, my mouth clouded with summer.

  I heard a gasp from my uncle. His statuesque pose astonished—the root of his manhood unmoving as I urged upon its lusts. A deep quivering seized him in the next soft smacking of my bottom to his belly. The mouth of my O gripped him as in a velvet vice. As of an instinct I held my plump cheeks now tight into him and squirmed. His groans resounded. Ah! the jetting,
the deep liquid in-spurts—each long thick pulsing of come known, felt, absorbed in spongelike warmth. I sniffled, tightened, hissed my breath. The globs shot out again, insucked. My anus flowed with riches, trickling out.

  Swimming in sensations, I collapsed. The slug of flesh plopped out wet nose upon my thighs. My bonds were loosed. A shuffling from behind and he was gone, seed spent, the sac of his balls lighter.

  Drowsy in my sweet fulfilments I was turned. I lay upon my back. Her mouth touched mine. Fingers felt my wetness both at my mound and my bottom.

  “It is good,” Aunt Maude murmured. My body fluttered and trembled still. My thighs lay open, wanton. Our tongues touched. My lips were petals to her stamen—seeking. My aunt turned the pages in my mind and read from them silently, slowly.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  I sought a word. “Everything,” I said. The word was a butterfly caught in a net. Its wings were unbroken. Her eyes released it again. It flew about us and melted within me. Her finger traced my lower lip, causing me to pout. Without meaning to I giggled.

  “Jenny is in a cage,” my aunt said.

  I did not believe her. For a moment I did not believe her. I tightened my thighs together but she tickled me and made them lie wide again, my legs straight in their net stockings.

  “Dress now. Wear drawers. Be firm with her. Tell her what you would have her do.”

  In my rising I stared at her. The room yawned about me. I fussed with my dress. Oozings of sperm slide-slithered down my thighs at the back.

  “It is true?” I asked.

  Aunt Maude laughed and lifted my chin. “Why else were you sent? Do you not know yet your beginnings and your endings? Have you not been nurtured, led to this? Their cocks would have been your undoing. Would you be as Caroline, Amanda, or Jenny?”

  My head would not move. I was rigid in my knowings.

  “Even so, there may be lewdnesses—at your permitting. Your freedom is entire now, Beatrice. I shall mark your progress. Instill, train, command. Do you understand?” She loosed my chin. I nodded. The air about my eyes had lost its mist. The sperm had bubbled from Caroline's bottom, perhaps, long ere this. I made appraisals, promisings—within myself I delved and sought. The cheeks of my bottom were heavy, warm, fulfilled.