First training

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“They will be back soon, will they not?”

Having retired back to the drawing room and there taking wine and biscuits, Millicent put on an air of agitation that however was purely in respect of her husband and daughter-in-law. Immured still in his room and unregarded, Clive brooded on the mystery of it all. As Millicent had confessed, she had not so handled him since his marriage two years before, though had longed to do so. Jennifer was cold to him, she averred, and had no understanding of such things.

“I think her not a dullard, though, Millicent. We must take care in making our judgements. In presenting yourself to her as you have-and she mindful ever of your husband’s wicked ways-she has taken an impression other than the truth of how things stand.”

Millicent coloured up and would have denied the matter, but fighting inwardly with herself under my stepmother’s mild but enquiring gaze, she finally confessed that such might be true.

“She would not know how to handle him even so,” she remarked with evident jealousy in her voice.

“Has she need to do so save as pupil to yourself?” replied my stepmother craftily. “Oh yes, I know, my dear, there is the little matter of your husband. We are aware of his intrusiveness. I think him ruttish, too, if you will forgive the term.”

“He is,” declared Millicent flatly, “but… but what did you mean by pupil?”

“I mean that there are arrangements to such matters. I suspect him of wishing to mount your daughter-in-law. He has perhaps fondled her already to her dismay-perhaps even her aggravation. Therein lie embers to be kindled, Millicent.”

“Oh! You would have him possess her?” She all but sprang up and I saw jealousy once more in her expression.

“You would have him interfere and your precious prize lost again? How shall you keep Clive in training once he has returned to the marital fold?” Thus my stepmother challenged back and Millicent put to silence for a moment.

“I had not thought of it thus,” she mumbled.

“Then you must. Let there be no hesitations on the matter. Leave things in my hands, my dear, and all shall be well. You will have not one male servitor, but two. Yes, your husband as well! Do not tell me that he cannot be quelled-put down. I know better. Do I not, Clara?”

“Oh yes, Stepmama,” I was glad to intercede. “Papa is most docile now, as is my brother,” said I coyly to Millicent whose eyes were as saucers upon hearing that. Her fingers worked together with a nervous excitement. She sought to know more, but my stepmother was adamant that practice preceded idle chatter, as she put it, and that to begin with Jennifer was to be left to our hands.

“She will not mind, I am sure, spending an evening alone with Clara and I,” she declared. Thus-though further talk followed which spun around the subject rather than entering into it-all was settled, at which Millicent took herself upstairs to attend, as she said, to Clive. She was not long about it and in no time at all brought him down, once more in his own attire. She would have been loving with him, had him sit beside her and hold his hand, but this was not my stepmother’s way. In minutes he was set to cleaning our shoes, but his activities no longer interested me for the nonce. It was Jennifer I was looking forward to. She made no difficulties, nor asked any questions, about being left alone with us that evening while the more closely related trio went to dinner.

“What a strange boy he is-how he adores his mother,” my stepmother remarked to her when they had gone. “He is not a boy but a man,” Jennifer answered, yet her eyes looked troubled.

“A boy at heart, my dear, as we within ourselves are still girls. At school, I do recall, there was as much kissing between girls as between boys and girls. I have ever thought it nice so to be. Have not you?”

A pretty colour came into Jennifer’s face. She made seemingly to reply while I tumbled down as though casually beside her on a chaise-lounge.

“I do not know,” she said thickly.

“Oh, but I think it’s nice,” said I quite bubblingly whereat my stepmother laughed and said, “That is because you want to kiss her, you little minx.”

Jennifer said “Oh!” in surprise and turned to face me. Her lustrous full lips, short aquiline nose, large eyes and flawless skin all attracted me. “What?” she responded in soft surprise while I flung my arms about her neck in girlish and impetuous fashion so that before she knew it our mouths met and merged in the most intoxicating fashion. I felt her shift uneasily despite that. She would have stirred, perhaps sought to break the embrace had my stepmother not then sat down on the other side of her, pushing her shoulders back against the wall and saying in a merry tone, “How sweet to see you both kissing!”

At that I think Jennifer grew embarrassed at such open display and raised her hands, though weakly, to fend me off. My tongue, entering her mouth, had found her own and was there wantonly indulging itself. A gurgle escaped her and the pressure of her hands weakened, my stepmother settling matters by drawing her sideways and shifting her own body so that the bemused but already partly excited young woman found herself lying prone. Perched on the edge of the long, brocaded seat at her side, my stepmother pressed upon her shoulders with a deliberation that she must have felt for she strove to rise but was impeded.

I, kneeling over her then, gazed down at her flushed face lovingly. “Jennifer, let me tongue you,” I murmured, to which she replied a startled, “WHA-AAART?” and cried, “Oh, let me up!”

“She wishes to tongue you,” my stepmother said as though explaining something to a child. “Let her.”

“Oh! B… b… b…!” Jennifer stammered madly, but already her dress was being raised. Beneath as I had suspected were two of the most elegant legs I had ever seen, swelling up from well-turned calves and dimpled knees to lustrous thighs that gleamed above her stocking tops. Rosetted garters clasped the sheened silk tight. A cry escaped her and she wriggled but was held.

“Clara will tongue you-be still!” she was commanded and with that my stepmother scooped one arm beneath her knees and drew them up so high that they all but touched her tummy. At the same time she held her chin in quite a forceful manner with her other hand-a trick I was to learn, for it holds the “victim” helpless, though I did not wish her so, nor my stepmother.

The posture, with her legs drawn high, exposed her completely and in a trice while she squealed and tried to bump her bottom all about, her drawers were loosed and with some quick fumblings on our part, pulled down. Ah, what a treasure came then to my eyes! Her bush was neither sparse nor thick but perfect in its texture, forming a delightful triangle upon her Venus mount. Between the curls and tendrils of stray hair her cunny peeped, its lips quite small-delicious to the tongue.

“WHOO-WHOOOO!” the first cry, as though of amazed pleasure, rang from her as I protruded my tongue and roamed it all about the succulent dell. Her legs kicked, drummed on my back and then were still. I flickered in my tongue and licked, my nostrils tickled by her downy curls. She moaned, hips twisting, then I sought her spot-the little rosebud of desire. How quickly it perked up! A trilling sound escaped her throat. Her muskiness and feminine odours flooded my face with the warmth of love.

“THEEE-OOOH! No! NAH! Not there!”

My fingertip had sought and touched her rosette which she evidently would defend. I roamed the tip around the puckered rip and dipped it in while twirling then my tongue. Another cry escaped her and her hips churned.

“DOH-DOH-DOH-DON’T!” she moaned, but all was too late. Holding her chin still and taking her slumbrous mouth, my stepmother began kissing her despite her seeming sobs of wilfulness. Her tongue sought to retreat, as I afterwards learned, but the passion of the moment was already overcoming her. Feeling the gentle lowering of her legs, I let them rest upon my shoulders and bore their weight gladly in my ministrations to her pleasure. I had worked the first joint of my finger by now into her bottom hole, making her squirm fretfully, yet her emotions betrayed her for no sooner was she thus plugged and my finger and tongue working in unison than she sprayed my mouth and chin with salty bliss.

To my great pleasure her tight warm bottom then began to work up and down as though urging me on. I circled my tongue around her risen bud and heard her throbbing moans as I did the succulent sounds of their tongues and lips. Again her belly shimmered and again she came. Twice more did her tribute inundate my lapping tongue and then with face besmirched by her sweet outpourings I let her legs glide down and rest upon the seat, there lying splayed.

“How she came!” I murmured-my stepmother straightening then while Jennifer lay inert, only the faint quivers in her pale belly betraying the echoes of her pleasure.

“How wondrously she must take the manly shaft,” came the reply, whereat she stroked the young woman’s face and moved damp tendrils of hair from her smooth forehead. “What a pity her husband is such a weakling, yet he can be further trained, I suppose.”

At this, Jennifer sat up with a sigh and put her back to the wall. “What do you mean?” she murmured, yet almost as though to herself.

“His Mama nurtures him-did you not know?” my stepmother asked inconsequentially.

“N… n… nurtures? What?” Her half-closed eyes opened. “I do not know what you mean! What do you mean?”

“His cock was well brought up this afternoon while you were out, my pet. Was it not, Clara-and dare his dear Mama deny it now?”

“By you? OH! Pray give me my drawers.” Her hand waved weakly and then fell.

“We were not the final instruments of his pleasure, Jennifer, nor would lie to you upon the matter. His Mama milked him of his sperm while he, poor weakling, suffered her frigging, his eyes all wild and lured by dreams of lust. Are not men ever so?”

“I do not believe you! Oh, it could not be so!”

“I believe you know it is so, though have not utterly confessed it to yourself nor made images in your mind of the matter. How often does he thread you in bed? Once weekly? Once a month? Is he shy? Is your hand needed to stir him to erection?”

“He is shy. Oh, why do you ask? What conversation you have got me into! Please may I not put on my drawers?”

“You are too proud to say how well you have been pleasured. That is the truth of it. As to putting on your drawers, you will need them less about your bottom than you have been used to. Opportunities have passed you by, but shall not in future. I ask you once again-how often does he take you?”

“You seem to have the knowing of it already,” Jennifer replied sulkily and then burst out, “Oh, why should his Mama do such a wicked thing? Is is true, Clara? Tell me it is not?”

“My foolish, beautiful one, it is. Nor was it horrid to see as you might think. Made to stand-and in such pretty finery as she has put him in before-he held his legs apart. They were not face to face and neither did she raise her dress or show her bosom even to his gaze. Is that not so, Mama?”

“It is, my pet. The young man has his whims and she has hers. Until your marriage, my dear, she spermed him regularly and thus kept him tamed, quiescent, as all males should be. As to your father-in-law, Jennifer, that is another kettle of fish. Have his hands not sought around the proud bulb of your bottom-touched your tits?”

“How do you…? Oh! I am shamed!”

“Do you not like it?” I moved to sit beside her, touched her arm, and wore an air of great naпvetй.

“It is h… h… hateful! Yes, he does. Would feel right in my drawers were I to let him.”

“Jennifer, we must speak more plainly. Truthfulness becomes us on both sides, for matters now will change.” Thus saying, my stepmother sat before her on the floor. Jennifer’s legs being still bared, she pressed her lips to her thigh most tenderly and made her start. Seeing her lips linger and her tongue extending around the rich rim of flesh above her stocking top, I drew Jennifer’s lips around to mine and felt to my surprise a softness greater than before.

“You think of his cock, though,” I murmured to her lips.

“I doh-on’t!” she trembled, making her mouth quiver deliciously to mine, but her voice betrayed her. The tips of our tongues touched, making me quite spoony with her.

“You do not get enough of your husband’s, hence you think of others. What is there in that?” came my stepmother’s voice while of deliberation she held the young woman’s thighs apart, admiring them as much as I, as Jennifer could see. Perhaps indeed that tiny point weakened her.

“I do… I do think of his cock, but I do not like him. Oh!” she exclaimed at her own temerity and covered up her face. I drew her hands away and rubbed her nose to mine playfully which I believe softened her the more.

“You do not betray yourself by so speaking, my sweet,” purred my stepmother, caressing Jennifer’s thighs as she spoke. “We are your accomplices and not your enemies. Dear Millicent’s actions are in trust to us, as yours shall be.”

“Mine? Oh, but I could never…!”

“Shush, child, for you are almost one at heart and yet withal a proud young woman. You will not be brought to him, but he to you, as Clive was brought to his Mama.”

“I do not wish to think of that! How could it be?”

“You will think of it, Jennifer. What help have you now save to do so? There is nothing so lewd in such motions as you believe. The male is brought to the female for her satisfaction. Once given, then he is removed, or put to further service as you wish. Your pleasures have been limited until now, though need not be.”

Jennifer twisted her fingers, turned her rings around and knew not where to look. A silence obtained. We waited for her to speak.

“If, if… if I gave in to him once-oh! I know how it would be!”

“Foolish girl, have you not imbibed each word I spoke? His prick is all you seek, and briefly perhaps, for there will be others when you find your way and learn to conquer and not to submit.”

Jennifer gazed at her nervously, though there was also a tinge of curiousity in her look, “You will not always be here,” she mumbled.

“Nor shall I have need to be, for once quelled and mastered he will remain so. How proud and cold you can look when you wish it! Why, you are halfway there to your own salvation.”

“It is true, Jennifer.” I soothed her arm. She could not mistake the meaning in my eyes. I tugged at her sleeve. A thought had struck me, and proud I was that it had perhaps escaped my stepmother. “Come-come to the room you have with Clive,” said I. She hesitated for a long moment and then uncoiled her legs. Her drawers lay on the floor and she would have picked them up had I not drawn her with me.

“What is to do?” she asked.

“You will see,” I replied. Her uncertainty as to our truthfulness was melting rapidly. I uttered, however, a little prayer as we ascended with my stepmama in train for I relied on old habits. Not mine, but those of Millicent. Fate proved me right. Reaching my hand beneath the pillows in the bedroom where Clive had been sent to wait, I drew out triumphantly the underclothes he had worn.

“They are not mine!” declared Jennifer and sought her nightdress quickly as if to assure herself against some trick.

“No, my dear, they are Clive’s now-his uniform of petulance, submission and sin. Show her the drawers, Clara!”

I had forgotten that small touch and opened them. The stains of sperm lay dry for her to see. Her eyes opened and her hand went to her mouth. “Oh then, it is true!” she gasped.

“What else but truth have we purveyed to you?” my stepmother responded. “Yet do not think of revenge in sheathing his father’s prick in your cunny. There is no revenge. It shall be on his part an act of equal submission to the power of Woman.”

“Oh no! I cannot, I cannot!”

My stepmother sighed and made her sit upon the bed. For a full moment she gazed at her soulfully and then turned to me. Her lips formed words that I well could read: “Fetch the cane!”