First training

CHAPTER ELEVEN

My stepmother was true to her word, though had I anticipated the manner of it, I might have tried to retreat from my fate. Robert was not seen for the rest of the day. Was it to be he? Sarah was quiet but a little more communicative now and seemed not unkindly towards me. I felt sure that our stepmother must have dropped at least a hint as to what was to happen in my own respect for there was a touch of complicity in her manner toward me, little as we said.

When Papa appeared downstairs again all was quiet, my stepmother spurring on such conversation as occurred. Indeed, she encouraged him to read items from the newspaper to us that we might discuss them. Appearing naturally hesitant at first, Papa gained more confidence under her careful guidance for which I much admired her. Sarah blushed a lot, but that was expected of her. In all I knew the net to have been completely cast and tightened just a little, though not so much as to impede us in the generalities of life

“As sheep are guided into their pens at night, so they may be allowed to wander freely in the meadow to graze,” she said to me afterwards. Confessing, however, that this sounded a trifle cruel, she went on to say that this was but a rough comparison. “Soon enough my own pets return to the fold of their own accord and do not need to be led. They know where it is, Clara, and what is its purpose, and there they find warmth and safety. And love,” she added, “for what is at first a discipline imposed from without rapidly becomes a pleasure. There is naught but love in entering a firm strong cock into a receptive cunny or a tight, warm bottomhole, and ecstasy in receiving it.”

“What, though, of a girl who would refuse utterly?” I asked. For at the time of speaking-which was two days after my initiation proper-the question had floated much in my mind.

My stepmother’s expression took on a serious mien. “As to that, one must judge, Clara. Some young women can be extremely fretful and give every sign of refusing with all their might. It is easy to be misled in this, particularly when a great deal of sobbing and squealing is involved-perhaps even some kicking. When resistance appears overmuch, then the girl is best left to think over the matter, may be spanked perhaps and then coddled. One must not give up at the first attempt, but try a second and a third. Complete strangers are best left alone. One must learn a little of the tenor of a young woman’s ways, how she thinks, and so on. Her bodily movements should be observed, and whether she is given to flirting or not. Beware that she is not to be given up to the lusts of but one individual, for you may rue the day that you brought her to what you thought of as ‘training.’ She may-once out of your grasp-find herself given up solely to her elder-for he is bound to be that-and will never know salvation. True, the male may be the first to indulge with her, but then he must be brought to heel afterwards and she must have the seeing of it.”

“As with Robert,” I interjected.

“Precisely so. And you were minded to say your Papa also, were you not?”

“I do not know.” I twisted my fingers shyly.

“Bear in mind, my sweet, that your dear Papa is under my care and attention, intends no harm to you whatever, and is fundamentally obedient by nature, as many men are, though they do not always know it. Such punishment as he receives for his seeming sins, he enjoys, for it is a humiliation with promise. His is a privileged position, and he knows it. On the other hand, many males regard being humbled as a privilege, and perhaps also a form of titillation, as Robert does. In a few weeks’ time, he would be lost without the occasional luxury of wearing silk stockings and soft, frilly chemises. Such brings his proud pego to a condition of stiffness and readiness he might have never otherwise known. What a darling he is-we must treasure him!” she exclaimed impulsively.

“But if a girl DOES finally refuse?” I insisted, for I wondered in my heart of hearts what she would do in such a case.

“My dear, her wishes must be respected,” my stepmother said simply. “If she is one whom you like, then continue to nurture her subtly and perhaps you may still bring her to it, but if not…” she shrugged.

“You would not count her, then, a dullard?”

“How kind you are in your heart, Clara! Not if her personality otherwise pleases. One little trick is to ask her advice upon as many matters as possible. In this wise you may see more clearly into her mind and may even. with guile, make her an accomplice, for while some girls will not do such things themselves, there are occasionally others whom they would like to see doing it.”

Her frankness made me laugh as ever, but I have wandered-I trust not to the reader’s annoyance-from the scene I was about to describe and which I had imagined, perhaps hopefully, would take place in the privacy of my bedroom. It did not. I was not so much as to be made an example of as to present one, as I was told. There was a subtle and clever balance made in affairs, for Sarah was to watch, as I indeed had watched her. This would give her solace in knowing that she had not been “picked out,” as our stepmother said. Conversely, however, I would give the best of examples by not refusing, fretting, squealing or crying.

“This will place you on a rung immediately below myself,” I was told solemnly, and though for a fleeting while I thought it a bit of a trick, I soon understood that it was true and that my complicity in what had gone before had not proved in vain.

The appointed time was immediately after dinner, for a full tummy makes for satisfaction, as is said, and I had also imbibed enough wine to make me feel very pleasant indeed. From the dining room I had heard movements afoot, no doubt by Bertha whom I am pleased to say was not otherwise present. Nor was my brother, who was sent upstairs to “study.” Papa appeared to sense something, but said nothing, for my stepmother overlaid all with bright conversation and to my slight bewilderment, I must confess, he too retired upstairs unhindered, leaving me with my sister and stepmother.

“We will go into the drawing room, then,” was said. I, being the first to reach the door thereto, opened it and saw to my heartbeating surprise that a greater space than usual had been cleared in the centre of the floor and that there stood there now a stout wooden trestle-much as used in sawing wood-upon the top of which was strapped a cushion.

“Sarah, dear, your sister is to be caned. Pray lead her to the trestle, bend her well over it, fasten her wrists and ankles with the leather clamps that are affixed fore and aft and raise her dress up to her waist,” our stepmother said.

I stood perfectly still. Sarah evidently wanted to run and gazed all about as if haunted.

“Well, Sarah?” came sharply from our stepmother and, seeing that I was unresistant, my sister took my wrist hesitantly and led me to the stout wooden bar that was placed at waist-height across two sturdy pyramidal forms. Making a strange little sound in her throat, she then bent me over it gently so that my tummy came upon the cushion. My arms, hanging limp, were soon constrained by the short leather straps buckled about my wrists. I felt then such helplessness as I had never known, but at the same time a sort of distant curiousity about my posture, even envisaging other girls in the same pose and with their bottoms bared as mine was about to be.

Squatting down, my sister then drew my ankles wide apart so that they might be similarly affixed. Then, with a certain vengefulness that I could not help but sense (and even, I might say, sympathised with), she bared me to the waist, finding that I-no more than she-wore no drawers and so offered my cleft moon and pursed quim to view.

How open I felt! My legs were straddled a full two and a half feet apart and I felt a thrill of submissiveness entire. Whose cock was I to have? From whose balls would I receive the throbbing emissions of desire? Would I cry out despite all my endeavours?

Perhaps I thought an interval would then obtain. It did not. My stepmother, taking up a cane she had secreted under some cushions, whistled it softly through the air.

“Oh, do not hurt her, pray!” came from Sarah in the background, for which fond cry I loved her much.

“Hurt her, Sarah? Indeed not. She is to be inducted, even as you have been, or rather in a manner that you will be later on. Mark what I say for I will have no truck with disobedience from either of you. You know that by now-do you not?”

My sister evidently nodded, for I heard no word from her. Then came a shuffling of feet as our stepmother positioned herself and ran out the cane (as I afterward always knew her to) lovingly across her palm. I must confess that I felt a panic then. All such words as had been uttered to me had seemed fine and fair and just, but now reality was upon me. I was to receive.

Sweee-issssh!

Ah, how it bit and burned, that first caressing of the cane on my exposed globe! Caressing yes, for such was her manner that it skimmed my hemispheres, though I would have thought for an instant that it had urged white heat deep into me. I ground my teeth and closed my eyes, feeling the insurgent heat and stinging deep inside my peach. Hoooo-iitttt! came then the song of the cane once more, and this time its passage was lower, coming up beneath my bulge so that I all but squealed out loudly and felt the tongues of fire lick all about my cleft.

“What a bumptious young bottom she has, has she not?” our stepmother asked quite conversationally.

“It… it is lovely, yes,” Sarah choked.

“So smooth, so round, so pert, so beautifully offered. Mark that her hips move well but that she has not cried out. What a young Amazon she will be!”

The compliment was well taken, but not the next sweeee-iissssh! which I swear stung deeper into me and brought tears splashing on the carpet from my eyes. I wanted truly to scream out to ask her to stop, but knew that such would be my true undoing. I squeezed my nether cheeks which reared and jerked. Slivers of fire shot through me and I felt as if I had been sat in nettles, so awful was the sensation.

“My sweet Clara,” I heard our stepmother say, and then to Sarah: “Fetch the oil, my love-that little flask upon the table there.”

Oh, was it over? I begged for it to be, shut my eyes tight and felt the swimming of my helpless tears.

“Hold the cane a moment, Sarah. It becomes you to do so, for you will learn to wield one soon enough-though not on Clara. Still, my pet, hold your hot bottom firm,” was said to me and then a finger came, well oiled, and rubbed all round and into my rosette, bringing a faint squeak from me that evidently was forgiven. Round and round the fingertip swirled on the perimeter of my rosehole, urging drops of oil within. A little loving smack then on my burning cheeks and I was seeming done-the wicked route prepared. But no.

“Do you understand, Sarah?” I heard asked and then hoooo-itttt!

“Theeee-ooooh!” I gritted, though as silently as can be, for it was indeed a harsh one and bit me deeply as if my poor bottom had been assailed by a thousand wasps.

“I d… d… d… yes,” responded Sarah.

“WHAT do you understand, Sarah?”…sweeeissssh!

“Nar-har-haaaaar!” I cried within myself and screamed as silently for Sarah to reply.

“That… that… that we must be s… s… submissive.”

“To their pricks, when I wish it. WELL?”

“Yes!”

Oh, what a heartfelt cry, for she saw the cane raised anew, as afterwards she told me, and thus did our stepmother play off my “punishment” against her confession. My bottom cheeks were raging. I could no more fend off the fire than I could rise. By clenching my hemispheres I sought to draw it in and by doing so felt a certain heat in my belly and pressed my derriere out as much as possible to the cooling air.

“What a divine posture! Is she not asking for it now?” my stepmother laughed and then clapped her hands. The doors were out of my vision, but I heard them open and with that a gasp from Sarah, quick suppressed, no doubt by a quick gesture from our stepmother.

A padding of feet came to my ears. I was alert to all, knowing not whether to writhe my bottom more or still it. I heard Sarah’s feet shift as though she had retreated. My eyes screwed up still against the insurgent stinging and I felt myself ready for naught but a large bowl of cool water in which to plunge my derriere.

“You are well ready for her, I see,” I heard my stepmother say. “Obey the rules and give her pleasure. The route will be tight. Give it to her an inch at a time. Sarah-take hold of this.”

A little quavering sound from my sister then. I knew it not, but as I learned afterwards a long silk ribbon was looped twice around the root of my conqueror’s stiff penis, my stepmother and my sister each standing to one side of him and each holding an end of the ribbon taut so that his movements were at least symbolically monitored. Then came male hands at my hot, throbbing cheeks and parted them as one might split a peach. Hung full over the trestle as I was, and tight secured, I had no means of defense even had I sought one.

“Oil his knob a little, Sarah,” our stepmother ordained, ensuring that my sister was as much under duress in obeying as I. I heard a groan of satisfaction of the male at her fingers’ touch and then the swollen crest came against my rosy aperture.

I wanted of course to scream, despite all my tuition, and yet withal a sense of lewdness seized me. I had watched Sarah accept our brother’s in this fashion-albeit but an inch or so-and had felt much fervoured excitement in the sight. Now I in turn was at pillage and even more brazenly in my posture than she had been. “NOOO-HOOO!” I wished to scream, for now the cork urged in and therewith all the breath seemed to rush from my body. How thick it was, how warm, how pulsing! I felt my hole expanding to receive it, much as does moist, warm sand when the tide has receded and the fingers are pressed down within it. AAAAH! another inch, and from him another groan.

I held my silence even though I wished to cry. The sensation was delirious. I had a cock in me! “WHAA-HAAAR!” I cried in my head and all about me was a swimming heat. I yielded, yielded, urged a little back and so enforced his knob within my tube. Ooooh, the feeling of it and I cared not whose it was, believing wickedly that it might be dear Papa’s.

“It is called buggery or sodomy, my pet, but neither word pleases. Both are ugly of sound and offensive to the ears,” my stepmother afterwards told me. “Better,” she went on, “to say a girl is corked or plugged or put to it, for the meaning then is clearer and a vision of it better taken. When lewdness takes you then you may work back and forth with your hips in concert with the male, though the most imperious ladies receive their corkings often without movement, and in particular if one male slave after another is put to them.”

In this moment, however, I knew nothing of theory but only of sensations. My conqueror, snorting not a little through his nostrils, but otherwise kept quiet by the attendance of my stepmother, had soon succeeded in gaining his libertine entry with half of his pulsing shaft upon which I could not help but squeeze since its girth invaded me to the uttermost. I would have retreated in that moment, perhaps, but had nowhere to move. The instinct, as I learned, is to repel the invader, and yet the faint wrigglings of one’s hips invites it. His hands clamped me tightly about the sides of my buttocks and I heard his feet shuffle apart as though to gain purchase on the carpet for his task.

How manly a well-proportioned male looks in such a posture I can well admire-his calves straining, knees unflexed and balls waiting to swing once the full plugging motions begin. Infinitely more beautiful, however, is the subdued-or apparently subdued female-for in the correct posture her ardent derriere is fully raised and thrust out for the amourous assault which she soon learns to long for.

Once the halfway mark is reached, the remaining passage becomes easier, as I now learned. He would have plunged in then, I know, had the ribbon wound around the base of his stiff penis not provided warning tugs. I was intended to feel every inch of his lewd entry and did. The breath whistled softly from my own nostrils and my fallen hair cascaded down on either side of my face to sweep upon the carpet. I wanted to sob, to cry out, to implore, but remembered ever the final role to which I was destined. A humming sound of frustration emitted itself from his throat which I dimly interpreted as a plea for him to be fully at me, but my stepmother was inexorable in her treatment of the males. Indeed, as I had heard from Sarah afterwards, her free hand was at the back of his hair to restrain him further if need be, for I was said to be a toothsome piece whose apple bottom every male would plug on sight and with full randiness were he able to.

A gasp escaped me as the last two inches were rammed up. Such small sounds were thankfully forgiven and with a sense of extreme excitement and ecstasy, I felt my heat-sheened bottom mounded to his belly. The inevitable “HOLD!” came from my stepmother then and never was the compression better felt than when his pego pushed away in me, tight-clenched as it was between my ardent cheeks.

I had almost forgotten my stinging-or rather the sensations I had so resented and which indeed had pained me, merged now into an otherness of bliss to find myself male-corked at last. My legs stiffened of their own accord and I presented-fully cleft as I was-the prettiest of sights, or so was told afterwards.

“Had you rotated your bottom eagerly, I would have forgiven you, Clara,” my stepmother said afterwards, “for I never knew so sweetly docile a pupil, nor one so eager to receive the sperm. What did it feel like?” she asked me but half an hour afterwards, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, like a big fleshy poker,” I sighed. “At first I wished to reject it, but was then invaded by delicious sensations of complete surrender. My bottomhole felt larger than ever before and yet was so tight about his cock I thought him never able to move it. When he drew out slowly to the knob I wanted to cry out for its entry, but you stayed him thus and teased me horribly!”

“Yes, what a delicious moment that was, to see you so a-tremble and almost in doubt that the cork would return into the neck of the bottle, so to speak! I leaned forward then, stroked the fronts of your thighs while they quivered and felt the sticky moisture of your quim before permitting him to drive the peg in again. I heard your teeth chatter distinctly and a little mewing cry come from you. You will have no doubts about your pleasure there again, will you?”

“No, never! Will it be as nice in my cunt?”

“Of course, though the sensation is different. The two pleasures are twins to one another, though a true Madame, I think, prefers it up her bottom, for she can judge the full entry of the tool better and feel the squirting of the come. How you puffed and worked your hips towards the end, you naughty thing!”

I giggled and said I could not help it and wished I had had a mirror to watch Sarah’s eyes.

“Hah! they were like saucers, Clara! How her bosom heaved and such a sullen look of pleasure on her face that no dissembling on her part could disguise!”

“You have not told me who it was and neither will Sarah tell.”

“She dare not speak of such without my permission. There need be no secret in the matter. It was Bertha’s husband, Tim-a brawny man with a fine cock that Bertha has seen to it is well trained for its tasks. And why he? Because, as I have told you, my pet, it matters not within all reason, who your provider is. Tim is clean and firm in body, which is all that matters and was the mere provider of your pleasure. Did you feel the jetting of his come?”

“Oh, it bubbled and throbbed and pelleted in me until I thought it would never end and even through the gathering thickness of the sperm I felt his shootings on and on. How delicious!”

“He was kept from coming for a full week, in readiness for the task. Bertha saw to that, massaging his pecker daily.”

A cloud passed across my mind. “But, Mama, when he sees me again, comes upon me, oh I shall blush and know not where to look!”

“Tush and nonsense, my pet. This is the very lesson you have yet to learn. You will gaze at him directly, calmly and impersonally. So far from being bold with you, his eyes will drop. He knows you to be the conqueror and not the conquered.”

“But were he to come upon me alone-perhaps at the far end of the grounds and I defenceless?”

“Defenceless you never now can be. You received his prick imperiously, my sweet, uttering not a cry nor a protest. He will know your merit. His cock will stir, will rise upon sight of you, remembering as he will the luscious tightness of your orb, the way you sucked on him.”

“That is exactly what I mean!”

“What can I teach you, Clara, more than I have done? Had he been untried, not trained, truly the picture might be different, but such a male would never be put to you, nor would such a one be allowed to darken our doors. He regards you now as hallowed, as a female supreme. The very fact of your youth will put him more in awe of you. Call him now and bid him lick your shoes.”

“Oh, I could not!”

“Could not! Ha! Do you intend to fail me then?”

“I do not know where he is,” I mumbled, for by then my initiation had long ended, of course. The trestle had been removed, Sarah had gone up to her room-there to ponder much, no doubt-and I was alone in the drawing room with Stepmama.

“He waits beyond, outside the door-as fully he expected to. I shall go into the morning room now, Clara. Call him.”

“Oh!” The little exclamation passed my lips and then I was alone. My palms moistened, even as my bottomhole felt sweetly creamed. I knew not whether to stand or sit. Finally I stood up, hands behind my back, tight-clenched. I would feel much smaller in his presence, I knew, for Tim was a tall, strong man. I parted my lips, but quite comically only a croak came. How silly and nervous I felt! But then at last I summoned my will. I was to be alone at last, even though for a moment, with a male subject. Such was my stepmother’s clear intention.

“Smithers!” I called, for such was his surname and instinct told me not to address him in this moment other than by such.

The door opened immediately and he stood there, then hesitated and entered, closing the door quietly as might a footman. I held my head high although in truth I quivered inwardly. Standing to attention, his head bowed, he waited.

“Here!” I all but barked and pointed to the floor immediately in front of me. Not meeting my eyes, he came forward and the silence about us seemed tremendous. “Kneel! Kneel and lick my shoes!” I said, keeping with great effort a quavering from my voice.

He obeyed on the instant, his nose first scraping the ground and back bowed. Raising my skirt no more than was necessary, he uncovered my buckled shoes and impressed his lips upon the toes of them fervently, one after the other. It tickled a little through the leather, but I liked it. I knew my stance, my high station. I had reached, as it seemed to me, the very summit of female ambitions. His mouth brushed again back and forth with the submissiveness of a trained dog.

“Go!” I said coldly and therewith, without the faintest protest or raising of his eyes to mine, he lumbered up and retreated, not wiping his lips as I fleetingly thought he might, for that would have been a sign of gross rebellion and discourtesy. Indeed, his tongue flicked quickly about his mouth as though the very taste of the dust on my shoes pleased him. Then he was gone, the door closing soundlessly once more, and immediately after my stepmother entered and drew me lovingly into her arms.

“My little conqueror!” she crooned and it was then as if the gates of life had opened wide to me and I waited upon our new adventures.