Muriel

CHAPTER NINE

Eveline's Day-Book

Claudia played her part superbly, but she always does. I believe she is quite fixated to this role and can probably play no other, but then she will never appear upon the stage as such. Her theatre is a drawing room.

Deirdre behaved extremely well and I have no doubt was quite convinced by Claudia's performance, as a few other of our friends have been. I expected her to stay, but discreetly she withdrew and thus-although she knows it not-has passed her test. Our small circle of Libertarians is comprised only of those who can behave when the time calls for it, and who will not blather to the world at large.

As to her confession on her second day here, that did intrigue me much. Young men are difficult to handle when drawn in on chance from outside. Perhaps her Richard may fill a role. Well, we shall see. I do not wish to interfere. Deirdre is obviously doubtful about her sin, but has not acted weakly, as perhaps she thinks. She had little solace from her husband, after all, and so should feel the minimum of remorse-if any, I would add, if such she needs to feel.

Deirdre's Day-Book

Richard is forlorn, the silly boy. 'Mama, do you not love me still?', he asked, thereby betraying that he had tried my bedroom door. I told him that I did, of course, but that we must not embrace so much. Immediately I said that, he embraced me, kissed me passionately and made to push me on the sofa where I would not go.

'I shall find a nice young lady for you', I declared, at which he flushed and said that was not what he wished. I was a little angry with him, for I had not demurred in letting him caress my bottom and my breasts the while we kissed. It should have been enough, I said. He stomped upstairs and slammed his door just like the naughty boy he is-though he is scarce a boy now, more a man.

Amy listens to all that happens. I am sure she does. I fret at that. She evidently takes after her father more than me-in some ways. I trust she will not prove as glacial as he. It will bode her no good in the end. I fear to talk to her about such things or she may well throw back at me my 'sins', and that would do no good at all.

Phillip's Day-Book

I am told by Jane to write a novel of erotic tone. How can I when it is quite against my will? Think and make notes', she said. I was locked in my room again today, my drawers on underneath my trousers. More and more I find myself sinking in a torpor of despair.

'You like to suffer, Phillip-that is certain', Jane said while I ground my teeth and could not bring myself to answer her. Can it be true? I tell myself that it cannot. If I am to be forced to write of women's limbs-and all such else as they would have me write-I know not how to formulate the words, nor how to strain myself to write them down.

Long did the paper lie in front of me untouched-then squeals and cries came to me from below. I ventured to the window at a pace and in recording what I saw can scarcely hold my p)en without a trembling now in all my limbs. There, on the sunlit lawn, dear Sylvia lay on her back, legs bared-indeed, her dress was round her waist. Upon her Daisy had been thrown-I swear she had-and showed a naked bottom to the world.

Over them both my sisters stood. Muriel had one foot planted in the small of Daisy's back, thus holding her upon my dearest girl, while Jane knelt and smacked Daisy's nether cheeks which, to my gaze, assumed a rosy hue. Resultantly, the poor child squealed although, to my amazement, several times she laughed as well and smothered Sylvia's lips beneath her own.

Of course, I could not bear to look for long. My damned drawers teased me as I watched, producing an eruption once again. Then Sylvia was made to raise her legs. Dear heavens, they had robbed her of her nether garment, too! No knickers were in evidence upon the grass, and so must have been cast off in the house-no doubt by the same threats that I receive.

How difficult it is to tear one's eyes away from that which one does not wish to see! I reeled back from the window-felt a fearful throbbing that I did not wish to feel. The sickliest sensations seized me, and I sat, whereat, to my utmost dismay, I spilled into my drawers that manly substance which both Muriel and Jane extol from me, and thus sat weak in horrid, sticky state.

I would brace myself, humble myself, to write to Deirdre. Yet, what could I say-what could I say? I am caught in such a trap as no man ever could have been before.

I have failed to say that I saw Rose there, too-some distance from the scene, yet looking, smiling, with her finger in her mouth, the wanton that she too has now become.

Sylvia's Day-Book

My aunties are very naughty, making us do that upon the lawn today! Oh dear, I hope that no one ever finds that I have written this, but Daisy's thing kept rubbing to my own each time that Aunt Jane smacked her, and I got such funny feelings, too, just like when I'm in bed with them. Aunt Muriel told Daisy to put her tongue into my mouth. She did. It was quite nice, though-a nice licky-lick. Then she began to moan and twist about. Our hairs rubbed and she made me come, and did the same herself. Aunt Jane said that spanking often makes one do that. The most awful thing was that I thought I glimpsed Papa looking from his window down on us, but he could not, of course, or he would have been awfully stern.

Afterwards I whispered to Aunt Jane that I thought I had seen him at his window, and she laughed and said that he liked looking at nice views. I think that was really horrid of her, yet she makes me laugh as well, so I do not think she meant it wickedly. She just says things that come into her head.

Daisy has been spanked by her Papa. She told me so. I wonder what it feels like to do that? I shouldn't think such things and yet I do. She said he made her take her drawers off, too. I can't imagine Papa ever doing that. I would blush ever so much, I'm sure. I told Daisy so. She said she expected he would like to, but I shushed her up. I told her that it wasn't true and that I wouldn't speak to her again for ten whole minutes. She said she didn't care, but waited that whole time for me to speak again!

Jane's Day-Book

Muriel has confided in me (after many hesitations, I believe) as to what passed between herself and Roger. I am not sure that she has told me all, but clearly he is both vigourous and brash, and not to say adventurous. I prefer, as she does, more spontaneous events than was suggested in his conversation with her-if it can be called such! So does she, I know. Moreover, we have always marked out our own destinies in amourous affairs. 'I believe I am a little in love with him', she said. What nonsense! She is almost of that 'certain age', but of course I did not tell her that. He is certainly not to be made a 'free gift' of dear Sylvia who needs more tutoring yet, in any case. His advice about Phillip, though, was sound, though I am quite sure he merely believes that we have simply bullied our dear brother.

I am positive that Phillip is not yet fully aware that he wishes to be obedient to us. I found his drawers very patchy last night and asked him what he had been doing. He would not say. There is a look of shyness in his eyes when he is called a 'naughty boy' and he secretly likes to be called such, I think. I said to him that he must pay a penance for toying with himself (the which he vehemently denied) and must kneel and kiss my feet, my knees, my thighs.

After much hesitation he obeyed. I only have to mention Sylvia to him! His face worked slowly up beneath my skirt, whereat-he having reached my thighs-I clamped him tightly in-between and made his ears to burn, which also made him groan. What a delicious feeling to hold a humbled male thus-even my own brother, I confess!

After two minutes or so of clamping him, I told him he might lick, but bent and held his hair lest he might struggle. Thereat I opened my legs wider and squashed my pussy down upon his mouth. He spluttered much, but finally acceded to my wish. Fortunately, Muriel did not interrupt. I held my legs straight and bent myself back a little, loosed his hair, and enjoyed his doglike licking thoroughly until I creamed his lips and tongue, made him stand up and lick his lips, which he did, much shamefaced.

His cock was very stiff after that exercise. I avoided touching it-felt that was best. I told him to go to bed and made my exit then. He looked forlorn and-for the first time-almost pleaded with his eyes for 'fond attention'. But he must learn: it is the only way. I who have been under men who ruffled me so much and often told me what to do am pleased that I can conquer one in turn! It is an utterly new experience. Muriel says it was her idea, but it was I who put the leash around dear Phillip first.

We had Rose in bed with us last night-I at her bouncy bottom while Muriel attended to her quim. After a few minutes of attention, she was very eager to have more and tongued us dutifully afterwards.

Deirdre's Day-Book

There is nothing for me but to go to Eveline and tell her what has passed, and which I hesitate to put to paper- but to leave blank pages now would only irritate me much in years to come, veiling my weakness, as I would be bound to think. I have no one else to confide in now but Eveline.

Richard brought home a friend of his-a youth of his own age, good looking and of good appearance. I judged him thus to be a nice young gentleman. Ah, how appearances deceive!

Richard asked me if his friend might stay the night, and I agreed. Amy retired to bed at ten. I believe she was taken with Jeremy who has an undoubted outward charm, but since I cannot tell her what has passed, I cannot warn her. Such is the web we weave, as the Bard said. But in truth I must castigate myself for having acted foolishly. 'Entertained' as I felt myself to be by the engaging chatter of Richard and his friend, I permitted myself too much indulgence both in wine and relaxation, and was scarcely aware of passing time.

At my age, of course, it is all too easy to imagine oneself as being able to bridge the gap between maturity and youth and to fancy oneself as being less than one's years, particularly when one is being lightly flattered, as I found myself to be by Jeremy who took upon himself the filling of our glasses-I having loosely given permission thereto, and the which I now regret. I was prettier than his own Mama, said he, at which I told him he should not say that, though even so (as I am sure all women do) accepted it as a compliment.

Our voices were hushed, for the hour was late. Several times I made to stir myself and rise but was seized by that torpor of languorousness that has too often been my undoing.

In providing me with a fifth or sixth glass (for I had lost count), Jeremy made so bold as to accommodate himself beside me on the chaise longue while Richard intimated his own devotion by settling himself at my feet. The conversation being but light (and often foolishly skittish on my part), I know not what we were discoursing on when Richard suddenly said, 'He wishes to kiss you, Mama', and I replying 'What?' rather than to offer an offhand reply, as I feel certain I would better to have done.

Indeed, I found myself endeavouring to gather further words which certainly evolved in my head but never appeared on the very lips that the wanton youth then attempted with his own. I confess that in the surprise of the moment-for the action followed within seconds of Richard's pronouncement-I made no move to evade the unbidden kiss that was one of undoubted, would-be passion. I recall uttering a small choking sound of surprise, but by then Jeremy's mouth was all over my own, the while- to my extreme amazement-Richard (being, as I have said in an inferior position on the floor close to my knees) moved his hands up beneath my skirt and commenced caressing my legs.

So feared was I that Jeremy would notice this rude gesture, that I pressed both away hastily, though this did not prevent Richard's friend from raining further tempestuous kisses on my averted neck.

I am not one given to great displays of temper. Even when in great discord with Phillip, I rarely raised my voice, but spoke coldly and quietly. In this particular circumstance, however, I blustered out some protest (though not in a common manner) and endeavoured both to show dismay and yet to try to make light of it at the same time, saying-no doubt feebly what a foolish boy Jeremy was. At the same time, my head was swirling somewhat with all the wine we had absorbed, which circumstance I can only extend as a frail excuse for the roguish pair as well.

I must to bed, I said, not wishing to confess even to myself that Jeremy had passed his hand across my breasts while kissing me, for I could not bring myself to say that outwardly.

'Mama, please stay and talk with us', Richard pleaded, but I would have none of that, merely saying that such foolishness was not proper and that it was time we all retired.

Thereupon I rose, settled my gown, and departed- leaving the two, as I thought, in a state of embarrassed, if not shamed, confusion. Such is the wilful simplicity of the human mind, that-having entered the hall and hearing them whispering-I assumed them to be exchanging regrets and even arguments over what had passed. Reaching my room, I lit a cigarette and threw myself on my back on the bed while uncaringly casting ash upon the floor. That small detail comforts me for in retrospect it at least indicates to me what a carelessly foolish state of mind I was in, which is to say that I had not let anger overcome me as it should have done. I am weak. I am prone to make excuses for others. How else could I have endured a marriage as fruitless in responsive desire as I did?

Were I to search my soul, I would say that I am also given to believing that others are as I myself am. Therein, however, lies a betraying irony in the light of what was to occur.

I know not how to frame these passages, and yet would be a coward if I did not. Extinguishing the cigarette, half-smoked, I rid myself of my dress, my drawers and my chemise and-being naked to my waist corset and stockings-brushed my hair, though more in absent-mindedness than otherwise and conscious that my steps were not entirely steady. The floor itself appeared to waver underneath my feet, and yet I felt in no mood then for sleep, was restless, knew my cunny to be tingling just a little with desire, though I believe that normal in a woman such as I-which is not to denigrate myself, I trust.

My mind was mazed. Do I excuse myself? Perhaps I do. The door opened and I made to turn about. Before I could do so it had closed again, and there to my considerable dismay, astonishment-or call it what one will- were Jeremy and Richard, naked, with their penises erect, their faces flushed with fearful eagerness.

'Ah! How DARE you!', I remember uttering, but in that fraught moment they had advanced upon me. Richard clasped me round my waist and pressed his throbbing pego to my belly, bidding me to shush or Amy would be disturbed. I gasped, I thrust against him wildly, but to no effect. Indeed, such efforts as I made to free myself were entirely frustrated by Jeremy who took up post behind me and pressed his prick upright between my bottom cheeks.

Dear heavens, how loosely could my pen now run if I should let it!

'Get out! My god, get out!', I moaned while Richard tried to kiss me passionately. Their cocks rubbed fore and aft-aroused me all against my will, though weakened as it was by wine and thought. My wrists were gripped by Jeremy who held them tight down at my hips and coursed his knob up-down between my nether cheeks while Richard's pronged itself beneath my fur.

'Come, Mama, let us-do it, please!', choked Richard.

Thereupon I screeched unwittingly-the last cry of despair perhaps.

'Mama! What is it?', then came Amy's voice from behind her door, along the hall.

'I t… t… trod upon a pin! Now, go to sleep!', I called, and knew perhaps that in my answer was surrender to their wickedness. They knew I dare not then cry out again. Such almost soundless struggles as I made availed me not, and I was urged and drawn on to the bed, cast down on my back thereon, my shoulders pinned by Richard while I gritted out my pleas to him. I threshed my legs, but Jeremy seized diem underneath his arms and scissored them apart, then-falling on me-probed his penis to my nest.

I bucked. I clawed at Richard all in vain. The knob slipped in.

'I'll fuck her first, then you, old chap', said Jeremy.

' Ri-chard!', I choked, but in the moment Jeremy was sheathed. Dear god, the stinging sweetness of that stiffened rod that pulsed its message to my clinging walls! — 'Ah, no!', I heard myself moan out. The cry, however, was but a cloud of out-pulsed breath in Richard's mouth. Jeremy's belly flattened down on mine. His rod grooved slowly back and forth-and not, as I expected, with excited thrusts. He has clearly had a mentor of some sort, a married one, perhaps. Despite myself, I came. Almost at once I spilled and further oiled his prick.

'She's coming on, old chap, leave go of her. I have her now', said Jeremy.

Dear heavens, had they only held me all the time! I could at least have snuffed my conscience out. Richard leaned up, and Jeremy sleeked full upon my form. I blubbered, blustered, yet he too captured my weakling mouth and stung his tongue to mine, panting his pleasure and yet not beyond control. 'Twas I who slipped across that boundary with my acquiescence to the wicked deed. The working of our lips was heard, and all such soft and liquid sounds as come when mouths and naked bodies move in an abandoned unison.

Of the long hour that followed in that darkling room, I have but a mosaic of lewd memories. I moaned, I whimpered, sobbed-and yet to all their crudities of muffled speech I uttered not a word, was as a limp and willing plaything to the pair who spermed my nest in turn.

I was not spoken to by Jeremy. I was spoken of, and that alone intensified in a most curious way the dark excitement that I did not wish to feel. After both had spurted their liquid treasures, I allowed my fingers to be drawn around their pricks-played with them feebly, as in some far dream, and yet I did. That, and their youthful ardour, brought them to a stand once more.

'I say, get her up on to her knees now, Richard. What an arse she has!', was said.

Inert and well-juiced as I was, I made to stall their efforts by dumb slothfulness, by mournful sounds that veiled my sad hypocrisy. As heavy as a sack full of potatoes was I rolled, urged up until my bottom bulbed to Jeremy who knelt behind me and, despite my gritting squeal, entered his knob between the deep cleft of my nether cheeks and forced the tight ring of my bottomhole. I jerked, or tried to, but he gripped my hips. In girlhood had I been invaded such, but never since. I grinched, I bit the pillow as the knob urged in, the helmet slipping past the rim, insinuating inwards till my breath puffed out. I bit the pillow, tried to glide down on my belly then, but Richard ringed my waist and held me up.

“Good fellow, Richard, hold her so. I have her now'.

'Oh no!', I sobbed-but did the words escape my lips, or sang they only in my head?

One long, slow thrust-a grunt-and he was in. His balls brushed underneath my sticky pouch, his hands replacing those of Richard where they clasped beneath the soft curve of my belly and thus held me corked. I whimpered. Thus we stayed, then he began to work it in and out with long, slow movements, making my head swim, feeling the suction of his penis there.

O dark miasma of desire-O dark! I heard my breath out-gasping, screwed the pillow up and strove not to cry out the secret pleasure I sustained.

'She's taking it, old chap, I knew she would!', gasped Jeremy, whose prick moved faster then, finding an easement in my narrow aperture, causing my fleshy buttocks on and on to slap against his belly as he worked.

'Come-work your hips more, Deirdre!' Ah that voice that came to me from a long, distant past, a bed squeak-creaking underneath my knees after the birch had done its burning work…

Do I excuse myself? Excitement dons a mantle often of confused delight and shame that mingle even while the deed is being done. If such is my excuse, then it must be. One's emotions oftimes are as hounds that willy-nilly chase the fox. I yielded, I received, first to the one, and then… But no, I'll write no more of that. The morning, come dimly to my eyes at last, found me alone in my much-tousled bed, the stains of sin like puddles on the sheet.

I cried a little-silent tears-then heard the maid approach, and she surprised to find me clothed still in my corset with no nightgown on. I spoke not to her, though, save just to ask if all were up.

'Master Richard's guest has gone, ma'am', I heard to my joy. The young rogue had risen early and had fled. My tears dried at the thought of that. He would live all day in fear of my appearance at his home-angel of vengeance with unfolded wings demanding audience with his Mama. Then came the sound of Richard's voice, asking the maid if I were yet awake. At that I sat up in the bed and called him in, to his astonishment, no doubt.

He entered like a vagrant, thief, as well he might- stood dolefully regarding me. I beckoned, motioned him to close the door. His eyes lit up. The dark deeds were forgiven, in his mind. My naked breasts loomed to his willing view. I kicked the sheet down idly and exposed myself, my dried bush well fluffed up and dark upon the white skin of my belly and between my thighs.

'Mama?' His voice was scarce more than a squeak.

I put my finger to my lips, brought him to kneel up on the bed and undid his trouser buttons carefully while motioning silence all the time.

How eagerly and with what wolfish grin he nodded then! I drew out his limp cock and fondled it, pushed down his trousers and caressed his balls. He thought himself in Paradise, of course, and grunted, and his face was flushed.

'Come dearest, lie beside me', I invited. For a second then his eyes veiled over with an instinct that, alas for him, came much too late. No sooner had he come down to my side than I rolled upon him, clamped my hand over his mouth and-impressing my full weight upon his body, squeezed his balls as strongly as I could while agony showed in his bulging eyes. His face paled, was as white as was the sheet. His eyes rolled-then he lay in a limp feint for which I felt no pity, none at all. Indeed, I rose, began to dress myself. Long moments passed and then he groaned, eyelashes fluttering he doubled up his legs and lay in patent, searching pain which I ignored.

His groans, his whimpers, all were meant as pleas that found no home within my vengeful heart. Passing without, I took the key and locked him there within. When Amy asked me where he was, I said he had gone out a-riding with his friend.

'Oh, he is very nice, Mama, is Jeremy', she said.

I gave her no reply. Such was the only hint I could extend of my displeasure. Not till four hours later, and she out of sight, did I release Richard who had not dared to make a sound to expose his presence in my room. He slank into his own, head down, will get no word from me until I wish. I have not finished with him yet, and nor with Master Jeremy.