by AnonYMous
At the sight before him he stopped dead. Amanda was over the bar, her body freshly bathed and perfumed. I had deemed it necessary to tie her wrists so that she could not rise. Her long legs were neat together. Naked, her bottom rendered its perfect apple shape. I closed the door upon us.
“Remember my words—the fine balance,” I told him again in a whisper. He accepted with a nod—deeming himself perhaps in Paradise. His eyes were tentacles about her yielded form. Aloud, I added for Amanda's benefit, “Next week her common metal thigh bands are to be replaced by silver ones. You will no doubt think of an appropriate design to engrave around them. Remove your clothes now and watch.”
“R . . . r . . . remove?” he stuttered.
“Or you shall not have her. There are certain conventions that we have instilled in her,” I went on glibly. The entire scene amused me not overmuch but I intended to have it performed. It was my first experiment in any event with an unconditioned male. “You agree to give her solid silver stocking bands?” I asked.
“If it is wished,” he croaked. Under my waiting eyes his hands fiddled with the undoing of his waistcoat.
“It is wished,” I replied.
With others the edge of farce might already have been reached, but here within this strange room and with Amanda perfectly poised for his pleasuring, the dolt was ready to accept all that I said. Her very muteness added to the occasion.
A florid cast came into his features as he commenced with ludicrous reluctance to remove his clothes in front of me. I affected not to look at him. There was a certain brawniness in his figure which perhaps had its brutish attraction. His trunk was thick, his thighs tree trunks. At the first offering of his nakedness his penis lolled inert but rose in anticipation as I led him to her. I had oiled Amanda's bottom already in preparation for the moment. To all appearances she hung there dazed. Only a slight trembling of her knees betrayed her.
He himself appeared now as one in a trance. Placing my hand in the small of his back I urged him yet a step forward. Stemming upwards, his penis—which was of full girth and good length—pressed its pulsing column against the inrolling of her nether cheeks. Amanda immediately uttered a small cry, jerking like a nervous filly. The movement served only to bulge her bottom deeper against his balls.
“In silence, please, your wrists together behind your back,” I told him.
The gaping of his mouth at these words gave him an air of great stupidity. Nevertheless he obeyed. Taking him entirely by surprise in the fretful impatience of his loins, I manacled his wrists. His face became purplish.
“Silence!” I warned, “the first act is intended as a ceremonial. You will receive instructions on how to handle her during the first weeks hereafter.”
Amanda's head began to toss. She strained at her wrist bonds. The most tearful of protests escaped her. She had awoken it seemed from the lulling comfort of her bondage. I had expected it. My next act therefore surprised her since, moving around to the front of the bar where her shoulders hung, I untied her wrists.
“Do not move,” I warned her. “You have your choice even so. Accept his cock in you at last or you will stay for a further three months here. Do you understand?”
“P . . . please—I don't want him to.'
Her voice appeared piteous, small—of unutterable appeal. It moved me not since no upward movement of her back occurred. Some hint of slyness for which I had previously sought in vain was apparent in her at last for she gripped the bar, though nervously, and held her bottom remarkably still, her hair flowing down about her face.
I moved back to where her stallion stood, his eyes glassy with despair as—bereft of the use of his arms—he endeavored to manouevre his swollen crest against the rim of her rosehole.
“Permit me,” I said and seized his rod which throbbed enormously in my palm. Motioning him back and thereby permitting him for the first time in his life no doubt the intimate attendance of two females at once, I urged his stiff shaft down and positioned the ruddy knob against Amanda's well-oiled aperture. “Enter her slowly,” I breathed.
His knees trembled violently, jaw sagging, as the rubbery rim yielded with petulant moans and cries from Amanda. In but a second the knob was engulfed—the shaft itself standing proud. Its veins throbbed in their eagerness. Gripping the hairs at the back of his neck I drew upon them sharply, bringing from him a surprised groan. Sodomy—though males know it not—is an act of worship towards the superior sex. For to whatever bondage or apparent humiliations females are brought, they remain—as Aunt Maude had taught me now—the eternal victors of the act. Able as they are to receive a succession of pulsing and apparently dominant penises, it is the males who retire wan and spent.
Thus did I monitor the act. Gliding my hand between them and taking his pendent eggs in the palm of my hand, I restricted his entry half-inch by half-inch, ignoring—as I well knew I could—the anguished cries and sobbings of Amanda and the febrile jerkings of his loins as he sought to sheathe his rod more quickly.
“Whoooo! Whoooo! No! No-Oh! Ah! stop him, please!” Amanda moaned endlessly. At the half mark, however, his heavy trunk had now leaned more on hers until he was all but fully bent over her, his breath raucous. I had taken his balls now from behind. The pressures of my fingers were warnings enough for him to proceed as if by stealth into the clamlike gripping of her depths.
“B . . . b . . . b . . . b . . .!” Amanda moaned incoherently. I knew the wildness of her mind—the surging of the seawaves there—the outward rushing of the breath. Her eyes bulged. For a moment her hands deserted the gripping bar below in such a gesture that I feared rebellion. Loosing his testicles I gave then his buttocks a hearty slap, the immediate result of which was to ram his root completely within her bottom.
Ah! her wild, high-pitched shriek!
“Na-ah-aaaaaaaaah!” she shrilled, but deeply corked as she now was, her hips were immobile, her sobs spilling down upon the blankly staring floor.
Straps, whose purpose had not signified themselves to him, came swiftly to my hands. Groaning, he felt the grinding of her bottom warm into his belly as I strapped their thighs together at the top and buckled quickly. Only the slightest movement of his loins was now possible. I could but guess at the ecstasy of sensations he was experiencing. Bound thus in the most bizarre manner, his wrists strained helplessly at the manacles, his buttocks twitching as Amanda's gripping bottom first tightened upon him and then undoubtedly relaxed.
I moved and knelt before her, raising her hot-flushed face to mine. Her eyes were half-closed, giving a pretty fluttering to the lashes. Easing my palms forward uppermost, I allowed her tits to weigh upon them. Her nipples, as I had expected, had hardened into thornlike points. Her lips lolled wet beneath my passing kiss. There was no need for speech. Her mind did not communicate itself to me. “R . . . r . . . release!” he croaked.
I saw no need to. Her bottom needed to accommodate itself to him more fully. Leaving them in their posture, I descended and found Caroline drinking lemonade in the breakfast room. Aunt Maude had taken Jenny and Katherine out, it seemed. More immediately upon my appearance, however, Caroline rose and threw herself into my arms.
“May we not go home?” she asked.
I took her hand, having kissed her, and led her to a couch.
“You will be obedient, Caroline?”
She nodded. Her eyes were faintly blurred with happiness, her cheek was velvety warm to mine. I felt for her breasts. The resilient mounds were snowy white and firm, the nipples like tiny cherries. In two years perhaps I would have her wed. It was not an experience I proposed myself to indulge in again. In the meantime I would nurture and develop her to a point where her usefulness would be unbounded.
“Wait for me in my room,” I told her.
“You will not be long, Beatrice?” Her eyes were the spaniel eyes of Father, brushing my skirts, nudging my calves—reaching to caress.
“Of course not,” I smiled. My voice was at its most gracious. I reached th
e caging room in but moments and there gazed for a moment at the tableau which still presented itself. Amanda breathed softly—sniffling a little at my entry. With quick efficiency I released him from her. His cock emerged bubbling at the tip. The very suction of her bottom had produced an energetic pulsing of sperm, it seemed. Amanda was as quickly released. As coyly as she endeavoured to hide her face from him, she could not escape the darting of her eyes towards the now almost pendant penis that had entered and injected her.
“Dress and go down, Amanda. Prepare yourself for departure,” I said simply. With only her dress to don, she was ready in a moment, her face a dull pink as she passed him in the act of restoring his trousers.
“And Amanda . . .” I called after her.
She turned at the door, endeavouring with little success to bring a look of remoteness to her features.
“You will not disobey. I shall visit to ascertain your progress,” I told her. A mischief seized me. I knew the butterfly thoughts in her mind—the bumbling and buzzing of words that escaped before she could speak them., “Your allowance will be increased. Is that not so?” I turned and challenged him. It would not be my way with others, but these—as I have said—were there oddments of people.
“What?” he ejaculated. The coldness of my stare was evident. Ludicrous in its peeping as he strove to cover himself, his penis lolled palely through the unfastened gap in his trousers. A wan bird that had flown and returned. “Ah . . . ah, yes. . . .” he stammered.
I nodded to Amanda whose expression was a picture. Whether I had undone or encouraged her conversation I knew not. The door closed upon her with the silence of one who leaves an unread note behind.
“My aunt would have a bracelet. I doubt not that you will fashion one well,” I told him.
“Ah, yes.” He seemed for the moment incapable of any other words. In slightly dishevelled state he was led without. On the landing I paused, closing the door to the caging room with such solemnity as I felt was due.
“You will have her, of course, tonight,” I said, “and in the same mode. She is not however to be tied. The arm of a sofa will suffice. As to strappings . . .
“Yes?” His lips quavered wetly. I found the sight not to my taste.
“Once weekly of a morning, immediately upon her waking. You will modify her with some pretty nightgowns—of a transparent variety, of course. Shell-pink and a pale blue would suit her. You will take her bottom formally and without preliminary caresses or kisses. It is desired,” I said regally, knowing him sufficiently insensitive not to appreciate that I was bubbling with silent laughter within. Cosseted more than she had been before, and no doubt later to be endowed with her own small carnage, Amanda would lend herself to it, I thought, with less difficulty than he anticipated. Within days she would derive more pleasure from it than she knew.
He nodded as if we were engaged upon some solemn discourse of State. Our footsteps sounded quietly upon the stairs. Amanda waited patiently in the hall, her features slightly constrained. To her surprise I kissed her cheek. Outside the horses of his carriage pawed the ground impatiently, their heads tossing.
“The requirements are understood,” I said to her.
Not knowing of what I spoke she nodded, bit her lip, stared briefly at him and then dropped her eyes. He, believing obviously that she and I had already discussed such matters as I had conveyed to him, took her arm with rather more of a beseeching gesture than he had anticipated.
I opened the door. It is never my intention to have servants present at such moments. Bowing, he allowed me to precede them. I moved towards the carriage, motioning to the hastily clambering coachman not to descend. I opened the door.
“Raise your dress to the tops of your thighs when you are seated, Amanda, and so keep it until the end of your journey,” I said. She blushed fiercely. Her eyes fenced briefly with my own and then indicated their surrender. “He will not caress you,” I added as they entered, “you are both to remain constrained. Forward, coachman!”
Straining in their harness, the four horses moved forward. My last glimpse for the nonce of Amanda was of her thighs flashing, her lips parted in a rosebud O of wonder.
A ripple of laughter escaped me. My fingers toyed about the full, rich blooms of the rhododendron bushes which lined the driveway as I returned to the house. They had obeyed me—they would obey, no doubt for months, until a greater loosing of lust took them.
It was of no matter, though out of an impudence of power I would visit upon them later. The older female of the house—she who had sat so complacent upon our visit there—might then need attending to. I would anticipate no objections either from her spouse or from Amanda. The occasion would provide a first exercise for Maria.
NINETEEN
CAROLINE lay waiting for me upon my bed with a look of such tremulousness that I slid down upon her. The petals of her lips grew softer under mine.
“Do you remember French-drinking?” I asked her. She blushed, nodded and murmured softly, drawing me more protectively upon her. I toyed with her thighs gently and with my other hand ran my forefinger along the succulent curve of her lower lip. “You liked it?” I asked. She hesitated, then lisped a sibilant yes. Her breath flooded warm over my cheek.
“When we return I will dress you as a little girl,” I said.
She giggled and clutched me tighter. “Will you?” she asked shyly. Her heart palpitated, our breasts bulbing together.
“There shall be sweetness, punishments and pleasures, Caroline. I shall bring you to them all. Fetch wine now—an uncorked bottle—go!”
So astonished was she at my sudden command that she leapt up immediately as I rolled away from her. “And a napkin,” I added. Clattering with unseemly haste she was gone and had returned within several minutes. In the meantime I had stripped to my boots and stockings and told her to do the same. Then, before her wide-eyed look, I lay back with the napkin beneath my bottom and my legs spread and dangling over the edge of the bed.
“This is the way we shall French-drink in future,” I told her and motioned for the wine, at the same time making her kneel between my legs. The bottle came cool, between my breasts. I inverted it so that the neck pointed downwards towards my belly, laid flat. The ball of my thumb held tightly over the neck.
Raising my feet I laid them against her back, impelling her mouth inwards where the lips of my quim awaited her first salute. Ali! the sweet brushing of her mouth, half shy, half bold. Slowly I eased my thumb from the bottle neck until it but covered half. The wine trickled down. Down in its trickling down it meandered. Over my belly coursing, into the bush of curls seeking.
“Lick—drink,” I whispered. The cool flowing of the wine which I released in bubbling streams was sweet to my skin, yet no sweeter than the more eager lapping now of Caroline's tongue. The tip curled and filtered between the lips of my lovepot, seeking upwards to my sprouting bud as the wine rolled gaily upon it and was received into her mouth. I longed to buck, but I dared not or the wine would have shivered in sprinkling sparklings everywhere. My legs quivered and straightened, sliding down from her back. Brazenly I parted them wider, arching my toes as a myriad delicious sensations overtook me. The gurgling of Caroline's throat as she received the increasing flood of wine was itself music, yet I must not forget my place, my purpose, nor my disciplines.
“You shall French-drink so, Caroline—the prick in your bottom,” I husked. “Wriggle your bottom as if now you were receiving it—lick faster!” I desired to cry out that I was coming, yet some instinct told me not to divulge even to Caroline the degrees of my pleasure. Muted whimpers broke from my pursed lips as a thousand tiny rockets seemed to soar and explode in my belly. The saltiness of my spillings in their spurtings no doubt communicated itself to her in a fine spray over her tongue.
I sighed, relaxed, and knew at long last my pleasure. My thumb covered the mouth of the bottle anew. I permitted no more to flow. With a tender but firm motion I pressed her mouth away. I was truly soaked.<
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“Bathe me,” I murmured. I rose and preceded her into the bathroom. “Do not speak—you may speak later,” I told her. The sponge laved me. I arose and was dried again. I took her then to the basin, bending her over it with my hand gripping the nape of her neck and washed her face.
We returned to the bedroom where I lay back full length. A scent of saffron came from the drawer of my dressing table where Mary or Maria had evidently sprinkled it with herbs. Waiting with owl-like eyes of blue, Caroline sat tentatively beside me and gazed down upon me. My fingers played with the backs of hers.
“Do you understand?” I asked.
Her lips moved as if to seek words that had long flown.
My arm reached upwards, looping about her neck and drawing her down of a sudden so that the comer of her mouth came to mine.
“You will know your purities, Caroline. The O is a purity. It circles within and without itself, knowing no otherness. Your mouth is an O—your bottom presents an equal roundness. Between your thighs the O has surrendered itself in its outerness to an oval, an ellipse. Within its knowing is the O—between your bottom cheeks another. The O of your roseness. The male stamen will enter it and impel the long jets of its succulence within. You will receive, absorb—even as your mouth absorbed. Did it not?”
I seized her golden hair, making her squeal. Her face lifted in startlement. Then, by a loosing of my clutch, she slithered down and buried her nose between my breasts. Her arms encircled my waist.
“Do not punish me for it,” she murmured.
I played with her locks, running my fingers through the silky curls.
“Punishments and pleasures, Caroline. Have I not told you? You will suck it in my presence, bent upon your task. The while that it throbs in your mouth your bottom will receive the whip.”
“Oh, please no! Beatrice, no!”
“There shall be stables, too, Caroline. I have engaged Maria to keep them clean—to monitor my captives. Shall you be one?”
