First training

CHAPTER TEN

To venture into Papa’s bedroom where he sat helpless and stripped to his shirt seemed to me the most daring of all the things I had yet done, yet I knew it must be. Perhaps it had been too late for me to turn back from the first moment when my stepmother had kissed and caressed me-or perhaps I never wanted to.

My palms moistened again as I opened the door. Papa turned his head and saw me immediately. Our eyes locked like thorns that become snagged together. I knew the sense of both seeing and not-seeing. His shirt being tucked up and caught behind his back, I could see all. His legs were slimmer than I had imagined and were curiously smooth, though muscular and strong, his calves having a line turn to them while his thighs, being somewhat compressed by his seated posture, looked lovingly strong. His penis lolled thickly over his balls, rather, as it seemed to me, like a big sleeping worm. Beneath it, his appendages, being distended by the pressure of the chair, gleamed not a little and had dark curls sprouting all about.

Perhaps I expected him to make some violent gesture of his head and to struggle equally against his bonds. He did not, but sat passive as though a mantle of fate had fallen upon him and from which he could not escape. So long did we gaze at each other that it seemed an eternity. I ventured perhaps a tiny smile, though I do not remember well and may have added this touch in retrospect. Then I stepped back and withdrew. His thing was not “up,” as my stepmother had asked and I wondered what to do. The second half of my instructions was clear, however, and I tripped halfway down the stairs where, leaning over the bannisters and gazing down into the well-which I loved to do-I softly called for Bertha.

“Yes, I know, Miss Clara,” she answered back, though invisible.

I hesitated then for a moment and went back along to Sarah’s room. She had sat up and had our stepmother’s arm around her naked back. Her head was hung and her hair all awry, though in later times it was always carefully pinned and arranged for what our stepmother lightly called “entertainments.”

If I digress here briefly it is to say that neatness in appearance and tidiness of attire is always requisite for the female, particularly one who has concluded her training. She wears the best perfumes, fluffs up the pad of curls about her quim, keeps her stockings ever taut and has her boots or shoes polished to perfection. Bangles of gold or silver or various colours, drawn well up the arms, provide an excellent embellishment, as do fancy garters with broad rufflings and tiny rosettes or ribbons.

Some Mistresses affect a severe manner of attire which I do not like myself but which suits some. I recall well the sister of a local curate who was in her early thirties and wore her hair ever in a tight bun which suited her, for she could coil it immaculately, which left her swanlike neck in full view and hid nothing of the pale oval of her face, but as to her I shall return later for I was to mark her conversion one of my signal victories.

Sarah was subdued, quiescent, though I wished her not to be. I would have had her smile and embrace me and our lips to meet, for I always loved her tenderly, as now. An approach sounded.

“Turn over, darling, and kneel,” our stepmother murmured to her.

Sarah raised her face a little, stirred, seemed indolent and then finally allowed herself to be manoeuvred over so that her bottom rose as sweet and round as an apple, her breasts pendant. Moving one hand beneath her while she was thus poised on all fours, our stepmother brushed her dangling tits gently with her palm. Her nipples, being already erect, quivered to the touch as did her glossy back and bottom which was caressed in turn. Shifting her right hand down under Sarah’s bottom, our stepmother thus cupped and held her fore and aft as one might steady a nervous filly. Upon that, the door swung full open and Bertha led in Robert, attired in his chemise and stockings and with a blue ribbon clasping his hair at the back. His drawers having been removed, his prick stuck up like a flagpole.

Sarah then twisted her head-having her bare bottom arranged to his view-gave a squeal and would have started up had it not been for the soothing motions of our stepmother’s hands.

“Shush, dear,” she murmured, “bring your bottom back to the end of the bed.”

Robert being guided forward meanwhile by Bertha’s commanding hand, Sarah once again wildly shook her head and needed to be restrained.

“Please, no! Please, no!” she pleaded as though in anguish whereat our stepmother ceased fingering her titties and ringed her tightly about the waist so that Sarah’s shoulders were partly hidden from my view and Robert’s as she was leaned upon.

“Quickly, then, Bertha,” came the order and a slight downward nod of our stepmother’s head which had the intention of showing wherein our brother’s prick was to be guided.

Sarah bucked at that, but then our stepmother gripped her hips more tightly the while that Bertha, taking hold upon the stem of Robert’s rearing prick, nosed its rubicond head full under Sarah’s plump quim and urged the knob within the rich, moist aperture of her cunt.

“NA-AH!” Sarah screeched, whereat our brother’s cock slipped out again, so eel-like were her motions. It did her, however, little good, for while Bertha then held him and waited, and Robert stood with the most bleared expression on his face, our stepmother afforded Sarah’s bum three hearty smacks which left it rosy-pink and her sobs resounding.

“Now, my girl, you will take it up you,” our stepmother said sternly, and with greater purpose then Robert’s pego was slipped in to gritting cries from Sarah as she received the first three inches, four-then five-and ah! a sudden jolt inspired by Bertha’s hands and he was in her to the root, her bottom bulging to his belly’s thrust.

“HOLD!” was then commanded by our stepmother who peered over and down under Sarah’s bottom the better that she might view the sensuous conjunction of their private parts. Only the root of Robert’s prick then showed and Sarah’s shoulders hunched themselves and shook. Her bottom moved infinitesimally and then was. stilled. Bertha, restraining Robert, placed her hand under his buttocks and so held him tight in to his sister. Indeed, I distinctly saw Bertha’s index finger curl and seek between his cheeks whereat he flushed and bit his lip and strained up on his legs.

I had no doubt that Bertha was tickling his bottomhole, and so it proved, for I have since learned that it is a fine and cunning way to stimulate the male to his best endeavours.

Robert was breathing heavily but was silent, for which I admired him, for the sensation of the spongy grip of Sarah’s cunny round his tool must have truly been exquisite. Little hissing noises came from her as if of rebellion and yet wonder. So were they held together, locked in love’s motionless combat, for a full two minutes before our stepmother nodded and Bertha-giving a little pinch to Robert’s buttocks-made him work. In-out he thrust his gleaming cock, and such a sight I had never known. Sarah began to moan and squirm her hips, causing me to wonder whether she was enjoying or escaping, but the ringing of our stepmother’s arms about her waist was inexorable and tight as a vice. Puffing not a little now, Robert half closed his eyes and there came upon his face a look of perfect ecstasy, his sister’s cuntlips pouting round his tool which ever glistened with her exudations. Smack! went his stomach to her bottom in its forward thrusts while I, misty-eyed, wished it full up me instead.

“Oooh-wah-wah-wah! Mama!” sobbed Sarah.

“Faster!” our stepmother ordained. “Faster for ten strokes, Robert, and then slow again.”

Poor boy-he did his best to obey. His lips trembled, his face full flushed and eyelashes quivering prettily like a girl’s. Some wicked instinct told me that Sarah might well be sucking upon his tool with her cunny while yet pretending to reject it for in his outward strokes-so close I stood to them-the veins around his penis swelled mightily. Silently I counted, though the flashing of his cock was fast indeed, his knees bending and Bertha but holding the back of his head beneath the ribbon she had made him pretty in.

Eight… nine… ten. “HAAAR-AAAR!” he gasped and it was indeed a cry of amourous longing such as seemed to touch even our stepmother’s heart.

“Come, then, Robert-come if you wish. Full in and give her your injection-NOW!”

It was indeed a benediction in all aspects, for otherwise she would have monitored his every move, though saw (unusually) the urgency of his case.

“Oooh-haaaar!” came from him then. His entire being quivered, his stiff cock thrust full up Sarah who uttered a low-moaning whine then sank her head and screwed her bottom into him so that they seemed stuck together as do dogs while from the whimpering sounds that escaped his own lips I knew him to be spouting well in her.

“Feee-ooooh,” gasped Sarah, though in a muffled tone, her face pressed into the coverlet of the bed and her toes, as I noticed, distinctly curling and uncurling very much as a cat’s paws when they experience pleasure. “Mer-mer-mer-mer!” came from her incoherently the while that Robert’s sperm gushed and splashed within her maw, there was received and held in bubbling warmth. Then did Robert quiver mightily, his knees giving a little and his head being allowed to hang back, mouth open, while he expelled his final jets and dribbles.

They were done, Sarah, too-despite herself-had come, for I distinctly saw the shiny glistenings of her sprinklings on his cock as it emerged and would have then plunged in again had Bertha not withdrawn him.

“Good boy,” Bertha intoned softly and dear Robert looked fit to cry for pleasure, but did not. His face softened, his legs trembled, and he was led out, tool dripping and slimed well with desire.

“Good Robert,” our stepmother called appraisingly after him and then the three of us were alone again while Sarah, sinking down upon her belly, quivered, clutched the coverlet, and lay still. Our stepmother stroked her smooth back gently, running her hand down all over her pert bottom, and winked at me as though to say, “She’s done at last!” I watched my sister’s long and shapely legs tighten together and then relax. “You may sleep now,” she was told and her legs doubled up while she coyly hid her face and was bundled beneath the cover. Her face turned a little on the pillow, showing her profile, and she looked perfectly angelic, I thought.

“She was well seen to, but yet will have better,” my stepmother said in a whisper as she led me out and closed the door behind us. “Does it not make you want it more?” she asked mischievously and well seeing the rising palpitations of my breasts whose nipples felt like thorns.

I nodded, my face suffused and my body feeling hot. I was, it seemed, to be ever a witness, but not a participant. No doubt my flushed expression told its tale in that respect and I could not help-standing as we were upon the landing-glancing at Papa’s door.

“He will be released now. Bertha will see to him,” was told me gently, for she ever read my thoughts. “It was nice for Robert, but he must not expect too many favours,” she went on. “You see, my dear, the male must be kept in check and the female must learn to suppress her own desires if necessary in order to maintain discipline. Both he and your Papa will be looked after well so long as they obey me. All willingness to meet my endeavours to train you all will be rewarded. Sometimes sparingly,” she mused, “but still they will be. You have many little tricks to learn yet, Clara. Your calmness is admirable, though. I chose well in you.”

I was silent, but felt flattered. Had it not been for Robert’s pleasure I might have felt that I had betrayed both him and Papa, but I knew I had not. I was easily converted, perhaps, though no less so than other females who see within the guidance of an unerring hand the chance to loose the shackles of convention and become Mistresses of their own fate.

“The circle is sealed. That is always requisite, Clara. It matters not whose cock a girl is put up to, or takes in hand, provided that the male has learned the mastery of the female and knows his place within the immediate realm. It cannot be otherwise. You have not been hard done by, nor has Sarah. In time you will have the males brought to you, at your bidding. Their training will be such that they will be acquiescent to your every wish, will take pride in it, if you only knew, and hasten to do your every wish. It is a reversal of what normally obtains, but therein lies the pleasure and excitement of it. None are cruelly treated-unless they err-but that is rare. Even when whipped or smacked their cocks stand up proudly, as you have seen with Robert, for they know with brimming hearts and eager balls that, come what may, they will be put to good use afterwards.”

“Are there none who resist and will not obey?” I asked.

“Oh pouf, as to them you may ignore them. There are females such, too, but we may discount their existence. They do not serve our wishes and are of no account,” my stepmother said crisply. “Should any such approach you with lustful intent, treat them coldly and with scorn. Cowards as they are they will go in hope of another. Their eyes are mean and their temperaments equally so. Even though you whip the males’ buttocks you will do so with love. I refer to our submissives, of course, Clara.”

I nodded. I had such images before my eyes as I would not have dared to think of months before.

“There are none here who will resist now,” my stepmother said. I could feel her nipples hard through her gown as she pressed against me and the long railing of the bannister on the landing came to my back.

“I know,” I replied thickly.

“You want to, don’t you, Clara?”

I could not answer. My mind ran hot with thoughts.

“I shall cane you first a little. You desire that?”

“Yeth,” I lisped in my excitement. She would not do it hard. I knew she would not do it hard. I trembled, clung to her. Raising my gown at the back she explored my knickered bottom with her hand and felt its tightness and its heat. “Oh, b… b… but,” I bubbled.

“It does not matter whose it is. You must learn that or you will never conquer. You may wish to cry a little before the pleasure comes, but you must learn not to betray your emotions to the male. When the plunger is tight up you, grip on it and hold. In no wise shall you speak, you understand? Yes, I believe you do and shall keep you on tiptoe for it. The dawn shall not come before you have had the pleasure of it.”