Venus in the Country

Chapter three

Lady Belinda Bromley was, as she often nowadays told herself, in full bloom. At the age of forty-one, she possessed the full curves that drew so many men's eyes to her. Her ankles were slender and nicely turned, her bosom bold and firm. Her bottom and thighs were as well-fashioned as any in the neighbourhood, and if she thought that herself, then so did a dozen or more of her admirers.

Belinda came of good stock and knew it. Her husband, Sir Richard, was of a quieter nature, though given to the occasional discreet frolic. His wife never interfered with him in that respect, nor he with her. It was understood that the county aristocracy were of a sporting nature, and Belinda was considered a leader in many things that had to do with boudoirs and convenient sofas.

Her great rage of late was fancy-dress balls, and she was already planning another. Seated with her at this moment-or rather seated under her since Belinda's proud bottom was resting indiscreetly upon his cock-was Captain Henry Dancer, who looked as sprightly as his name. Fondling Belinda's breasts he sighed and endeavoured to move his stiff tool back and forth under her bottom, but her weight was too much for him.

“Such a bore, Henry, but I must see the girls' new companion. No, do not go, dear boy. I understand she is quite enchanting.”

So saying, Belinda rose and looked down with a pleased smile at the horny condition she had aroused in the Captain who was ten years her junior. Belinda adored younger men, but equally she adored some younger women and had entertained a number in her bed when her husband was absent. Sometimes these little affairs had taken place in the company of discreet gentlemen-a matter which called for much quiet movement between bedrooms when the servants were abed.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Belinda seated herself opposite her new paramour. A pleased smile broke across her beautiful features at Pamela's timid appearance.

“My dear, how enchanting to meet you! May I introduce Captain Dancer?”

The said gentleman had of course already arisen, though in doing so his trousers showed considerable signs of strain. Not being unaware of what was going on in the world, Pamela could not help but glance down once she had noted the swelling there. Seeing this, though saying nothing of it, Lady Bromley smiled anew. Being in a particularly sportive mood this day, she wanted some rather special enjoyment. So, begging Pamela to be seated and plying her much with sherry, Lady Bromley engaged her in apparently earnest conversation about her plans to give occasional lessons to the girls.

Pamela had dreaded this moment. She was little aware that rudimentary education among the rich was often little better than among the poor. The well-to-do had often better ways of disposing of their time than in learning drab additions, multiplications and divisions. In fact, though Belinda could count her bank balance, she was frequently to be found a dunce in other matters. She did not care. Bank balances and pleasure were the most important things of all.

So as much as she asked, Pamela was able to answer to her satisfaction. Whereupon Belinda put her slyest question.

“And the birch, my dear Pamela-you are schooled in the use of that?”

“Oh, no! I mean-not very much.”

Pamela was downcast. She wished that she had pretended she did know a lot. After all, it was surely easy enough to apply a birch to a young girl's bottom. Her expression appeared to say so, but her Mistress- though smiling for reasons of her own-was shaking her head.

“No, Pamela, 'tis not so simple. There is an art in it-is there not, Henry?”

Henry, very concerned in carrying out a private survey of Pamela's lissome figure, had listened to little that was said. Nevertheless he deemed it vital to agree and nodded.

“Oh, yes, m'dear, yes-lessons must be learned. And indeed the teacher must be taught.”

It was so exactly what Belinda had wanted him to say that she all but applauded. Thereupon, to Pamela's astonishment, she found herself rising as her companions suddenly did. They were to repair to the summer-house for a very important piece of education. Having rather fond memories of summerhouses, Pamela rather wondered what her fate was to be.

Captain Dancer walked ahead of them, looking very military and manly. Not only had his condition not abated, but to Pamela's eyes it seemed to have become even more stiff. Walking elegantly beside her, Lady Bromley explained that Pamela need only receive a small lesson, but one sufficient to brighten her up, as she put it. Pamela coloured at the thought of this, little knowing how even more attractive it made her look.

To her further surprise, Lady Bromley held her comfortingly by the waist as they entered the summerhouse. It was a much larger and more comfortably furnished one than Mr. Rumple had. There was a carpet, a divan, a sideboard, cabinets-and a bed in one corner. Bed, it was explained to Pamela, was the best place to birch a young lady. It added a touch of comfort to the experience.

“Naturally, my dear Pamela, you will have to bare your bottom, as all young females must. Occasional struggling is to be ignored and-if necessary-put down. The twigs of the birch must be well soaked beforehand to prepare them for the swishing across the offered cheeks. Now, Pamela, you must kneel on the bed and prepare yourself. The Captain will do the honours. Have no fear; it will only be what we called a taster, but it will warm your bottom well. You may wriggle all you wish if you do not otherwise move.”

“Oh! but I may not be able to help it!”

Pamela would have dwelt longer on her protest, but nothing availed and she wished not to offend her Mistress or jeopardise her post by refusing. Somewhat reluctantly and fearing the kissing of the twigs, she placed herself at last on all fours and had her skirt thrown to her hips.

“By Jove, what a bottom, what legs!” the Captain exclaimed.

It was a perfect posture, for the high bed allowed both him and Belinda to see almost all the curves and secret crevices of Pamela's form, even to her slit.

“A perfect treasure, as I knew she would be. Permit me to kneel in front of her so that I may hold her shoulders for the first stroke.”

Arranging herself thus on the bed in turn, Belinda bore lightly down with her fingers, so causing Pamela's head and shoulders to sink down and her bottom to rise more. Enjoying the resulting vista more than Belinda, who could not see as well, Henry picked up the birch, swished it vigourously once and then brought it smartly across both cheeks of Pamela's bottom.

Pamela immediately cried out, as both knew she would. In fact, as she was told afterward, she hooted rather like a baby owl at the first cutting stroke.

“Oh! It burns!”

“Of course it burns, Pamela! What do you think it is for? Up with your bottom higher now-no nonsense, Miss!”

“Oooh! I cannot! Oh! Ow!”

Thus were the many exclamations and cries that Pamela repeated in the next few moments, though little by little, as the good Captain applied the twigs with more regular rhythm, a completely different sensation entered Pamela's being. Despite her sobs and the fiery heat in her bottom, her hips jerked impetuously, as if seeking more.

Knowing not whether the dear girl was virgin or not, Henry at least knew the signs. A few more strokes would settle her perfectly, for somehow during her squirmings Pamela's mouth had settled upon her Mistress's thighs which, by similar magic, had managed to bare themselves.

Pamela's tears fell wet upon the selfsame voluptuous columns of flesh against which her hips increasingly pressed. She was quite sure that she was melting now beneath the heat which the birch had induced and longed for nothing so much as what the Captain was about to present her with.

Henry had mounted many a young filly on heat and saw a chance now to add to his laurels. A nod from Belinda was all he needed, and now he received it. It would not be the first such trio of lust in which either had participated. Preparing for the event as Henry cast down the birch Belinda forced Pamela's head not only down but farther up toward her. Having secretly drawn her skirt up higher, she brought Pamela's mouth to nuzzle against the front of her drawers which were so split back and front as to present her always to the best advantage.

With a quick cry, Pamela thus found her lips tasting the excited juices of her Mistress while in the same heady moment her birching-master knelt with his penis exposed behind her.

“Ah! No! Oooh! Oh!

Pamela wriggled and cried, conscious that she must not reveal that she had entertained the staff of life before. In doing so, her lips moved in unison with her hips, causing Belinda delirious sensations. Quite confident of quelling any rebellion, the Captain thereupon gripped Pamela's bottom at both sides and with one long, manful thrust buried his lance exactly where he intended it, between the petulant lips of her slit.

Alas, so excited were all three combatants that the course was run more quickly than any wished. Henry's cock, closely but eagerly accommodated, flashed back and forth. Being well juiced by the caressing of the birch, Pamela spilled her liquid treasures immediately, causing Belinda to loose a salty spray in turn over her tongue.

“Oh, my dear, what a naughty man!” Lady Bromley cried, as if to excuse all. “He has me in such a froth that I can do naught. Oh, pray, lick me faster!”

Pamela puffed and licked. It was more wonderful than she had thought to have three going at it at once. She knew that Captain Dancer was going to inject her at any minute and the thought increased her labial attentions, difficult as it was to reach the crevice that she sought.

Henry groaned and thrust. The girl was as fine a mount as he had ever had, and better than many. The sperm literally churned in his balls and then spewed out. It was a veritable cannonade, sucked in by Pamela's velvety purse. Not a drop escaped her in fact, even to the last pearls that dribbled out, for she held Henry's prick very firmly and possessively as he had rarely known any such young filly do.

Quite exhausted he drew his limp member out at last and sank down, bereft even of speech.

“Now, my dear, you must rest, for you have had as pretty a birching as I ever saw,” Belinda exclaimed. “Henry, assist me. The poor girl is overheated. Help me in removing her dress. Then, I fear, I shall have to take off my own for you have completely flummoxed me with your naughty ways. Such behaviour was most unexpected, sir!”

Thus the merry comedy ensued until all three lay naked with Pamela between the two. Receiving Belinda's long tongue, she began to stroke her bottom and found it deliciously large and round.

“Ma'am-am I to birch the girls in such wise also?” she asked. _

Belinda scarce heard the question for she had already guided Pamela's hand around to nestle under her cunny. Or, if she did hear it, she pretended rather not to fully understand it. The girls were best kept out of the way while she had her little frolics, and how just such a thing was effected she did not mind.

“Of course you must-exactly.”

Pamela was delighted with the reply, for she thought that Lady Bromley had fully understood what she meant, especially as the voluptuous dame then rolled upon her and began frotting her slit hotly against her own.

“Put your cock in her mouth now, Henry-it will help bring it up!”

Turning her head, Pamela eagerly received the morsel. Or at least it seemed such until her tongue and lips began to work on it. She knew that her Mistress must have her injection next, so she made the Captain's cock as long and thick as she could until it stood proud and gleaming.

“My goodness, will you do the same to me now? Oh, Pamela, stop him! I dare not be so wicked!”

“Permit me, ma'am, I will hold you even as you held me,” the damsel's reply came. Then, winding her legs tightly about the good lady's waist, she gripped her firmly while the Captain clambered aboard.

Quite squashed beneath the pair, Pamela panted for breath. Lady Bromley shrieked for good effect. Couched on the majestic cheeks of her bottom, Henry began his second poke. Mindful of poor Pamela beneath the pile, he rose, being half-sheathed, drawing Belinda's hips with him. A moan from both and he was sunk within. Lady Bromley's maw was slightly more capacious than Pamela's, yet it gripped him as firmly.

Bouncing her bottom cheeks to his belly, her ladyship cast all cares aside. Taking Pamela's oval face in her hands, she inserted her tongue once more in the girl's mouth and began to work it as vigourously as the Captain was pounding her.

Meanwhile, to further her education, Pamela felt down between them and tickled the conjunction of their parts, which made them heave all the more. Quite delighted at having such a willing pupil, Belinda took the searching fingers and guided them to her button. Having achieved this the wanton then saluted Pamela in like manner, whereat the proud girl spread her lovely legs wider and jerked up and down beneath them.

The bed shook beneath them. Cries of joy came from all. The most delicious quiverings seized them. Henry groaned and came. He had been caressing Pamela's spread legs meanwhile, and it was all too much. Dammit, he must get the girl on her own and teach her a few more tricks. A few guineas in her purse would do wonders. Panting, he expelled the last jets as hotly as Belinda received them. Collapsing in the final ecstasies, they all but squashed Pamela beneath them.

Wriggling her way from beneath, Pamela wore an air of great confusion.

“Oh, ma'am, what must you think of me! How wanton I must have appeared!”

“Tut, girl, we all have our pleasures. They shall not be our last today. Say nothing of this, however, or you shall truly be birched.”

“Yes, ma'am, I do understand. It all has to be a secret.”

“I am pleased, Pamela. You had best go see to the girls now.”

Belinda stretched herself indolently. The girl appeared useful at present. If she attempted to rise above her station, she could quickly be dismissed.

“Shall I take the birch ma'am? For the girls, I mean.”

“Take it, yes, but do not use it unless it is needful. Their Papa will expect to find them in good trim- quiet and obedient at all times.”

“Oh, yes, ma'am, that he will.”

Pamela smiled and went out. Whether she and Lady Bromley meant the same thing, she wasn't sure. If Lady Bromley did, then she would pretend that she didn't, for Mr. Rumple had taught her that that was the way of the world. They all knew, but they pretended they didn't. It surely was a fine game.