Emily: Or, the voluptuous delights of a once-innocent young lady

CHAPTER 20

Aftermaths in daylight are embarrassing to me. I wish to hide my eyes, conceal my face-huddle my body up and look away, remaining in my warm, pink dreams. It was not to be, though. 'Come, you sillikins, get up', Jane said and shook me gently. Arnold had already loosed himself from me, adjusting his dress with solemn care, and taken up his chair again. 'Go 'way', I murmured, but she swung my legs and forced me to sit up, my hair awry, face flushed and moist still with the kisses of the pair. 'Come here!', said Arnold suddenly. My feet wavered as they touched the floor, then mulishly I went to him and had myself tugged down upon his lap. Hiding my face, I let him stroke my hair. 'It is best when she is coaxed', said Jane. 'I know-I understand', quoth he and kissed my cheekbone while I huddled into him like a lost girl. – is it best?', he asked me, but I did not answer him- a rich scent of tobacco from his shirt. I started as I heard the door, but he wrapped his arm more tightly round my own and held me cuddled like an orphan child.

'She has been naughty upstairs now with George. It was not my fault'. The voice of Catherine. She stood somewhere behind the chair.

I did not raise my head to look. 'That is your second sin, my dear. To be so indiscreet, I mean. Ladies do not refer to other ladies in that way. Your hostess has a name. Go to your room. I mean to deal with you in a short time.' 'Am I… am I not in favour then?', she wheedled. I was pleased to hear the shakiness in her uncertain tones. 'You place too much upon yourself and are undisciplined. I SAID go to your room!' 'Oh, very well. I s'pose…' Her sentence lay unfinished, curled up on the floor. He did not turn. I would have felt him turn. 'You will be accommodated later, Catherine, I do suppose', said Jane. 'Oh, really?', the girl sneered, but then her shoes skittered, for he must have moved his head as though to look at her. -'You country girls are all the same', she spat. The door slammed. My new mentor sighed and urged me off his lap, stood up and brushed his trousers down fastidiously. 'Why do you put up with her?', Jane asked, and looked through the portholes, as I thought of them, though they were elongated panes of tinted glass.

'She has her uses-just as all of you…' He paused, looked at us doubtfully the while I stirred my ruffled hair and said, 'That was a jest'. 'A poor one, even so', I said, recovering myself while buttoning up my corsage that he had ripped apart during our bout.

'Then I apologise'. He took my hand and kissed my fingertips.

Then his eyes narrowed. 'Even so, obedience becomes young ladies, does it not?' 'I have been obedient-and so has Jane', I mumbled, rather causing him to laugh and assist my trembling digits with his own. 'Of course you have. Now is the time to be while you are free. A conundrum is it not-though it is true. Obedience brings less remorse and makes the stolen fruit taste sweeter. As to Catherine, she has been in domestic rebellion in the past and would not lend herself to what was not unnaturally sought of her. We have almost persuaded her otherwise by now. She hides her indecisions in a flighty way, I fear-makes brash of everything. With George she can play the role of conqueror. His timidity lends itself to that'. 'You have not had her, though, yourself?', Jane asked with some percipience. 'My dear, dear lady would have put her over, but the moments were not ripe; or so I felt. But now perhaps…' He paused and questioned us with his bright eyes. 'We shall assist', I said, to show my mettle both to him and Jane. 'Precisely as I wished you'd say.

The company of younger females, willing, eager, yes! Young ladies have a way of wreaking their revenge on others in a curious way. Now is the time'. 'Are you fit so soon? She has a lovely bottom-is that where the dart is to be aimed?' Jane asked, and bit her lip at such plain impudence. 'You read my mind as well as you would a book, my dear. I perceive in you something also of a voyeuse. Is that not so?' 'Ladies, sir, do not always answer direct questions. Suffice to say that there are certain visual experiences that I appreciate-perhaps enjoy', my sister answered coyly. 'And you, Emily?', he asked. 'I said, did I not, we would assist'. I hesitated- having seldom a bold tongue-but then drew breath and added, if you wish to really know, then yes, I would like to see her bottomhole expanded by your prick: the opening of her rose. Is that not what it is called?' 'It is called by various names-as for instance plugging a girl, corking her derriere, or more plainly buggering or sodomising her, though for neither of those latter words do I have much taste. They have not the voluptuousness one seeks, nor any touch of sensuousness. I have known ladies who preferred it that way to the more normal mode. As to yourselves?' 'Oh, we take it as it comes', Jane laughed, and was quite obviously delighted with her pun. In a moment we had ascended to the upper deck. Through its windows I perceived the water-wanderers, the boaters on the river's moving surface, and thought of the great apartness of all people, and how what we were doing, and were about to do, would remain unknown to those who moved beyond, so close to us, and how their actions, too-whether innocent or perverse-would remain totally unknown to us forever amid all the ever-changing scenes of life. It is not good to think thus: one feels strange and utterly apart. In a moment, though, my more immediate anticipations returned and warmed themselves as if before a fire. Passing along the passageway, or whatever it might be called on such strange habitations, there appeared from a doorway the figure of our hostess who had discarded her chemise and wore only the peignoir, held so lightly about her figure that her bosom and her thighs were seen. The door to the bedroom remaining open, I spied George sitting on the bed, naked as the day that he was born. His penis hung limp and a blue bow of silk adorned its root, as though it were a gift to be presented, though patently its recent contents had been drawn upon. 'What is to do, my pet?', she asked of Arnold. 'I am to see to Catherine, my love. These young ladies had kindly volunteered assistance'. 'They have, they will? How utterly divine of them! You will not need me then?', she asked in such wheedling tone as a younger female employs when she hopes to receive something that may surprise her pleasantly. 'In a certain sense I shall, my pet. George may be put to her afterwards-if he is fit-and by the same route that I intend to follow. If you would see to his revival, I will call you when the minx has had her bun well buttered'.

Time it is, dear Arnold, time indeed, or she will need to be returned to the paternal fold untutored, and that would not do at all.

He is quite fuming to present himself to her', said she, and at that she winked at me and closed the door, her voice heard saying, 'George, lie down!' As to Catherine, she sensed at once some purport of our entrance into her abode and sprang up from off her bed defensively. 'Oh-have you come to apologise?', she asked with hope that faded quickly after one long look at us. 'I, dear Catherine, have come to present you with a compliment', said Arnold, and wrapped his arms around her so suddenly that she had no time to retreat. 'What are you about?', she screeched. Her calves swung as he raised her feet from off the floor and flung her willy-nilly on her face down on the bed, exhorting us at the same time to throw her dress up and remove her drawers. 'No, no! You shame me! Don't!', she howled while, business-like, we gathered up her pink, silk gown and uncovered the most heavenly of legs sheathed in fine stockings of a matching shade, with rose-red garters and-to my surprise-white, frilly drawers when I had expected a bold, naked bottom. Arnold held her shoulders firmly while we got them off despite her kicks, the strong thrusts of her legs. 'You beasts! I'll tell Papa!', she screeched, arms flailing wildly like a bird with broken wings.

'Oh, Catherine, what a lovely bottom!', Jane exclaimed. The skin was milky, flawless, and the twin globes as round as the two halves of a split apple yet resilient as rubber, warm as toast. 'Toy with her first. I will hold her up', said Arnold wherewith, to a wild cry from Catherine, he eased his free arm underneath her belly and by main force lifted it so that it poised three inches off the bed, her feet scrabbling to take purchase on the floor, but all in vain. She was deliriously elevated, ready for our fingers and our tongues, her vain cries pealing through the air. 'Emily, twist on your back and put your mouth up to her quim', said Jane-a throaty thrumming of excitement in her voice. I could scarce see how I could, for my back would be precariously supported on the bed's edge, but by digging my heels into the carpet and with Jane a-straddling me and gripping my slim waist between her legs, I managed the quaintly acrobatic act and lay face up beneath the girl's furred quim while my sister bent and thumbed her bottom cheeks apart to run her tongue around her puckered rose. 'THOO-AH!', moaned Catherine while Arnold gripped the nape of her neck and pressed her face into the quilt, I in that moment sleeking up my tongue and finding that small bud at the upper meeting of her lovelips which extols desire from even the most frigid of females, given she is firmly held. 'Mmmm…', came from Jane who evidently had snaked her tongue into the girl's warm bottomhole.

'MA-MA! MA-MA!', moaned Catherine in smothered tones. In her up-slung position her tummy was supported both by my up-reaching hands and by Arnold's arms, and from the wild movements of her fine, long legs, I knew her feet to be raised from off the floor. -'No, no, no, no!', whined Catherine, but her cunny by then was moistening well. The sleek folds of her cunny parted to my tongue. I sought within and found the silken walls and heard her whimpering as Jane, too, titillated her. 'Do not let her come, my pets. My prick will do that', I heard Arnold say. 'Her bottom is open for you now', said Jane, and at that I slithered-back down-on the floor as my sister stepped aside, though gripping the girl's rich buttocks in her hands, as I saw on rising. 'He can't! He mustn't! Oh, dear heavens, save me- let me rise!', screeched Catherine. 'Fetch the birch, Emily.

I have one ready in the cupboard there', said Arnold, pointing as he spoke. A letch-as men are wont to call it-came upon me then to see it done: to see, perhaps, how Jane herself had looked when being trestled. Had her legs kicked much as Catherine's might, and had her bottom reddened, had she screeched as this girl surely would? There was in me a hardness I had not expected-a sense of that 'revenge' of which Arnold had spoken, though I knew not the source of that emotion nor-its real direction. The implement being quickly found, I turned back to the bed where Catherine was alternating pleas with imprecations all the while that Arnold held her neck and Jane her bottom cheeks, her fingers well pressed into the proud flesh. Was I to swish the twigs? I knew not how to, though. Indeed, there is an art to it, for only a third or so of the bunched teasers should hiss a path across an offered orb, and even so with artfulness, not rage. The wrist should act with suppleness. I speak in hindsight, having learned much since. 'I will do it, Emily. Come, hold her neck. Keep a firm grip thereon-ignore her howls. She may have to become more used to this in future weeks'. 'I won't-no never! Don't you dare!', cried Catherine while my hand slid beneath his own, and I extending the birch to him. 'You, Jane, sit on the bed and ring her waist', came the command, the which my sister gladly did, her legs askew and facing him, as I was with my feet tucked under me. 'I will do anything!', squealed Catherine in pleading, though she most obviously knew not what she said. 'You are going to', replied Arnold coldly. Taking up position at her bumptious rear, he tapped her with the twigs and brought a nervous squeak from her. 'Don't, please! I will let you-honestly!' 'After your medicine, no doubt you will, but pray remember, Catherine, that it is not I alone you have to please. There are other pricks that wait, my sweet, to invade your bottomhole and squirt their urging juices in. Your bottom cheeks will positively bloom with all the nourishment they will receive'.

SWOOO-ISSSH! 'NAR-HAAAR! Oh NO!', came from the maiden then, and I admit to screwing up my eyes as the twigs assailed her lovely derriere, making her roll it all about while Jane held both arms to keep a hold on her. 'Please, please! It stings! No more!

WA-HOOO!', wailed Catherine beneath the searching sweeping of the twigs. 'No MORE? Are you to say the same after your first cock, Catherine? You who have taunted, teased, and boasted of that which you have never had?' 'I have… I almost… THOOOO! It's burning me, it's burning!' 'It is meant to, dear', said Jane, and cast at me over her shoulder a look of utmost mischief, and at the same time challenging such thoughts as I had often had of her. 'No, stop-no, stop! It's not fair! HAAAR! YEEE-OUCH!' 'A labour of love, and all is fair in it. Six for a girl who teases, Catherine; a dozen for a stubborn one. Which will you be?', growled Arnold then.

'I'll be… I'll be… I'll be… FOO-AAAARGH!' 'I find that no reply at all, my dear. Quite clearly you need extra ones. You must take the cock freely, Catherine, or else must take the birch before the cock. Which shall it be?' 'I will t…t… take… I will!'

'Freely, I said. You heard me, girl!' SWOOO-ISSSSH! again, and a long, sweet howl that came from twixt her lips. 'Freely, yes, freely yes, I'll let him-let you-do it. Please, oh please!' 'Say that you want a prick up your bottom, Catherine, now-say it!', commanded Jane while the girl writhed. 'She has said sufficient for the moment. Ladies, let her be. Release her! Catherine, you will not move except to push your bottom up', said Arnold as we eased off from the bed, Jane moving to one side of him and I the other.

'MOO-HOOO!', sobbed Catherine. Her cheeks were reddened-strawberries and cream, hips swivelling. Her feet had taken purchase on the floor again. She looked most piteous and defenseless, as a birched girl does, yet I felt no pity in me for her plight.

Rather did I hold my breath as he thumbed her stricken cheeks apart and exposed the dark-brown orifice between, Jane fumbling at his straining buttons as he did, and bringing his big pego out. Restored in majesty, it glowed its head, albeit showing dried flecks of my spendings, and of his. 'N… n… n… n…!', came then from Catherine as the great, quivering prodder nosed against her waiting hole. Arnold then flexed his knees and pushed hers inward from the back, making their positions utterly lewd, and yet with an animality that came sweetly to my eyes. I could see the plum already sinking slowly in her orifice, forcing the rubbery ring and making her fingers clench and unclench. -'No, no, no!', she moaned, but such a petulance is permitted from a girl untried before. Her shoulders rippled, hunched. In vain she tried to squirm her hot bulb sideways, but Arnold- already the part master of his goal-had clamped her hips on either curving surface, strained his loins, and sank a full third of his penis in, mouth open as he did so, for my eyes like fireflies danced about the pair. Catherine had raised her face, chin resting on the quilt, mouth open in a wondering O. Fair fit to take another cock, I thought, and wondered if I ever might-would dare-to take two males at once: one twixt my lips, the other working in my honeypot. 'Go on, go on-oh, Arnold, let us see it go right up', urged Jane. Her eyes were polished pebbles, bright and clear. 'Doh-doh-doh-don't!', whined Catherine, but it was clear that she had surrendered to his will. As I had done, upon a different bed, she stilled her hips and peeped a long pink tongue out as his prick surged up and buried itself firmly in her fundament. – 'WHOOO!', came from her, and then her head hung down, her bottom bulbing tight into his loins. 'My god, she's tight-the first one in', he groaned, but like a gentleman he held it in to let her savour the huge pulsing of his rod before he stirred it slowly back and forth, drawing out almost to the helmet's rim and plunging powerfully within again, each stroke bringing from Catherine a whimpering moan. 'Let me kiss her-feel her titties', Jane exclaimed. Already she was wriggling her own hips, as I was, too.

'No! Not until she is more docile and does not need the birch. A girl should not be cozened at her trials. Unless she is much younger', he added thoughtfully, grimacing at his pleasure while he worked.

The sounds that came from Catherine were much as I had uttered, too, upon the first invasion of my derriere. At first there is a stinging, then it dies. The crest of a warmer wave approaches, laps the cunny, warms and moistens-subtly-the tight interior wherein the cock stirs slowly back and forth. He who goes like a whippet to his task will never bring a girl to pleasure. The action must be that of pumping strongly on each inward stroke-never with haste, but with a powerful ease that speaks authority. The girl may whimper inwardly-may utter now and then a sob-but pleasure will soon take her if the male is knowing at his task. Nor should she roll her bottom in the act, for that destroys the rhythm of the thrusts. As the moment of delicious crisis comes on her, she may work her hips a little, back and forth, the which will tell him that she wishes to receive the cooling draught. He will feel her nipples hard, tits slightly swollen.

Should he brush her cunny with his fingers, he may feel her spurt, and know that she has yielded to the fleshly bliss with all abandon.

Whether to finger a girl when she is being corked for the first time in her bottom is a matter that concerns as much the character of the girl as the finesse and determination of the male. A maiden who has been ultimately stubborn, not even lending her bare bottom to caresses-one who averts her lips and blushes and will not be kissed-should be pumped the first time, and no more. Only afterwards is her pouting cunny fingered to see how moist it has become-whether it pulses, whether she has spilled. She will then be left to her thoughts, and given a playful smack perhaps, but no more 'comforting' than that. Silent treatment of such a stubborn maiden is the best. On the next occasion she may be seized without warning, and the cock urged up her bottom without recourse to the birch. On such occasions the gendeman must control himself and keep his shaft full buried inbetween her cheeks, holding her neck pressed down until at last she stills herself. Or a female accomplice may at the same time feather her then untried cunny until she brings her on, whereat the gentleman is free to 'work her', as the saying is, and she receiving him with softer moans and final acquiescence. And, as may be guessed, those last two words were appropriate to the fate of Catherine. Huffing and puffing gently for his part, and urging her hips back-forth in rhythm with his vibrant motions while her eyes glazed over in the spell of it, Arnold released his warm sperm into her with grunts of pleasure that accorded with her own soft cries at being inundated with his gruelly juice. He ground his teeth, rolled up his eyes, rammed it full home and let it spout while Catherine churned her bottom urgently as though demanding every single drop.

'Hooo!', she gasped and hid her hot-flushed face, squirming tempestuously as he at last withdrew the long, thick, steaming rod that left her rosy bottomhole a-froth. Thereat, with a slight, mocking bow to Jane and me, he exited, I drawing the quivering girl's dress down again to hide her gently squeezing derriere. My arm was taken and Jane led me out, shaking her head lest I should speak a word. 'Silence is golden the first time', said she upon the closing of the door behind which Catherine was left to meditate.

'I suppose you were very quiet', I answered, not being able to resist the thrust. 'Oh, I was dear. Well-the first time, anyway', she laughed, and left all sorts of wicked pictures in my mind.