"Please, Dr. Jekyll! The servants."
"Damn the servants! Ursula, if you love me, you must pack your bags and come away with me now. This afternoon. Before this evening. Before it is too late."
"Run away with you? Whatever are you talking about?"
"Your happiness, and my own."
I do not know what to make of all this and in my confusion begin ushering him into the parlour where my Aunt Meg awaits us for, as a young, unmarried woman, I require a chaperon. "What have you done to your hand?" I ask, just as a distraction. Fortunately Aunt Meg comes to the rescue.
"Henry!" Meg says. She places her needlepoint onto the footstool and extends a hand, which Henry kisses perfunctorily.
"Please sit down. James!" she calls, "tea, please."
"No, Meg, there is no time for tea. I have come to ask for Ursula's hand."
"Well, this is sudden."
"Ursula!" He turns to me again and I am completely mystified as to the haste with which he is proceeding.
"Henry," Meg says, "you must sit and tell us what is going on, for obviously you are in a state."
Reluctantly he places his black medical bag onto the tea table and takes a seat across from Meg, on one of the loveseats expecting me, no doubt, to join him. But to tell the truth, his ardor is laced with a desperation that frightens me and I head for the sofa next to Meg.
"Now," Meg says sensibly, "why this rash proposal."
Henry seems to be coming to his senses somewhat. He runs a trembling hand through his hair. His face is gaunt, like a man who has consumed spirits for days on end and lives now in another realm. "This is not sudden," he reminds Meg, "for hadn't I mentioned marriage earlier in the week? Surely Ursula has had time to consider."
"Henry, you make no sense. Ursula hardly knows you. And there are other suitors, as you are aware."
He jumps to his feet in a rage. "Who! Not Hyde. No, not at all! He is no longer in the running. Ursula, you will dismiss him from your thoughts this instant!"
"Well, Henry, I'm afraid Ursula cannot dismiss Mr. Hyde. After all, he is scheduled to appear at my salon for a demonstration of his talents this very evening."
"He will not come, of that you can be certain."
"And how do you know this?"
Here Henry became hesitant. Suddenly he flops onto the loveseat and buries his head in his hands. The gesture is heart-wrenching and I begin to stand, to go to him, but Meg holds me back.
At that moment James arrives with the tea. We are poured a round, served with little tea cakes. Henry accepts the cup and balances it on his knee, not drinking from it. Once the servant departs, Meg places her cup onto the Queen Anne table and says sternly, "Henry, look at me!"
He looks up, his face haunted.
"If you are interested in courting my niece, you will do so in the proper manner. Now, you have come here to see her, which she has agreed to. I believe you own her the courtesy of a proper meeting. If you find yourself not in suitable form for such an interlude, perhaps another time might be desirable."
"Time," Henry says. "This cannot be put off."
"Then you will conduct yourself in a manner befitting a suitor."
With that Meg picks up her cup and head across the room. She sits by the window, just out of earshot, so that Henry and I might have some privacy.
I am astonished by all that has transpired. I cannot say I do not find such fervour intriguing, although I expect I would find it entirely more fascinating if it were tempered by a bit of restraint. For after all, what woman wants a man who is so desperate for her that he will lose himself.
While I have been thinking these thoughts, Henry has been pulling himself together, apparently aware that his behavior is odd and perhaps unappealing. He crosses to the sofa and sits beside me, taking my hands in his.
Close to him in this way, my heart begins beating rapidly and I feel that peculiar sense of being about to faint that has come over me of late. "Your hand," I say, for something to disguise this feeling coming over me. "You've injured yourself."
"It is nothing, dearest."Henry kisses the back of my hand, my palm and, in an instant too quick for me to stop him, presses his lips to the side of my throat. His hand slips around my waist and rides up to my breast. He pulls me close. Now indeed I am quite on the edge of collapse and when he whispers in my ear I can barely keep from trembling.
"Ursula, remember when my fingers thrust inside you? There is more to come. Far more. Say you will be mine and I shall bring you to the stars each night. Say yes now, so that we may have a life of love and peace, for if you hesitate, I may not be able to control the future."
"Henry," I blurt out breathless, "of course you cannot control the future. No one can."
I try to think of all the things Meg told me over the last few days, about men, and how best to deal with them. Boldly I say, in a voice harder than I intended, "And as for making a decision on the moment, Doctor Jekyll, I cannot. I expect that I should need time for consideration. After all, as Aunt Meg points out, there are others in the wings and I should make the best choice I can after careful consideration of all my options."
He draws away from me sharply and a dark look blankets his face. "Ursula, you are being obstinate and although I do not like your words, it is your tone that infuriates me. That I shall not tolerate. If you act like a child, you shall be treated like one. Don't be surprised if I lay you across my knee, bare your bottom and give you the spanking of your life!"
My mouth drops open. My eyes, I know, bulge. His face has become fierce, determined. Suddenly a thrill of fear and excitement ripples through my stomach, and lower, and I feel a strange wetness break between my legs.
I seem to see him with new eyes, as if for the first time. His features are mysterious, his cheek bones finely honed and prominent. There is a hunger to his face that assures me I am truly the object of all his desires. And I know beyond a doubt that whatever has been troubling Henry Jekyll is but a passing disturbance. He intends to sate his appetites with me and suddenly I realize that I shall not be able to thwart him. And I no longer have either the desire nor the will to do so. I want to cry, 'Yes! I shall be with you. Always!' but suddenly Aunt Meg is beside me, jerking me to my feet. I stare at her dumbfounded.
Henry too is on his feet, demanding, "Meg, you cannot come between us. She is of age, capable of making up her own mind."
"She is of age, Henry, but Ursula has been entrusted to my care and I do not intend for her to be swept off her feet by a sweet word or two. Marriage is a serious consideration. One must find the proper mate who will be the up to one's down, the day to one's night, the top to one's bottom, if you catch my meaning. I refuse to allow my niece to make a hasty decision which she may regret all her life."
She leads me forcefully out of the room and up the stairs. I turn and see Henry standing there, looking furious, impotent with rage. As we reach the top, Meg calls down, "If your zeal can last another day or so, perhaps you may see her again after the weekend. We will see. In the meantime, James will show you out."
When we reach my room, I am furious myself. I turn on Meg. "How could you do that? Henry has come to see me. As he says, I am of age. It is my decision as to whether or not I choose him."
Meg dismisses me with the wave of a hand. "You are young and incredibly naive. How can you know what you want?"
"I know!" I stamp my foot, acting just like the child Henry accused me of being. The promise of his treatment of such antics flashes through my mind and I begin to feel that delicious heat spread through my lower body. What can Meg know of such desires?
"Ursula, you will undress immediately."
"I shall not."
"Then I shall call your Uncle Gabriel to help me and together we will undress you, is that clear?"
The horror that she might do just that sobers me. I strip off my dress angrily, defiantly.
"Your undergarments also."
I remove my bloomers, and the lacy corset Meg and I purchased t
he other morning.
"Lie on the bed, young lady, on your stomach. Now!"
I hesitate, but realize I have no choice. If I do not, some worse fate might befall me.
I do as she bids me.
Meg walks to the window and pulls the sashes from the curtains, collecting four all together. She proceeds to tie my wrists to the bedstead, then my ankles, and I am spread-eagled.
"Why are you doing this?" I demand.
"Because you are being driven by lust at the moment, young lady, and that is a poor place from which to make a major decision. I suspect that if you were to roam free I would soon see the back of your head through the rear window of Henry Jekyll's carriage."
"So you're going to tie me here, a virtual prisoner."
"That's the idea," she says.
Meg pulls a large handkerchief from her pocket, folds it and ties it around my eyes so that I am for all intents and purposes blind.
"Why this?"
"This and more," she says. "When I am through you will be lying bare-assed, unable to see, hear or speak and you shall remain so until this evening, when you will be brought down first for supper and then for the salon, at which point you shall meet Mr. Hyde and see what he's about. This I do for your own good, Ursula. You must consider all the information before you decide."
I smell beeswax burning and realized a candle has been lit. Within minutes warm wax is being shoved into first one ear canal and then the other, effectively cutting off sound. I thrash about, screaming. That doesn't last long, for I see it gets me nowhere. My Aunt forces something soft, like bunched up fabric, into my mouth.
I do not know if she is still in the room or if she has gone. I only know I am alone, forced within myself, made to contemplate my situation.
I must admit that lying here, so removed from the world and naked, my bottom cheeks brazenly spread wide for any and all who pass this way to see, the area between my legs exposed to whoever might be interested in investigating my openings, all this permitted me to indulge myself in thoughts, feelings and fantasies of a nature which hitherto I had not allowed myself.
My nakedness focuses me on my lower half. Thoughts come to me, heating my body to a temperature that at moments I find nearly unbearable yet entirely desirable.
Hyde's thick tongue forcing its way into my mouth, brooking no resistance. My mouth aches to receive him. Meg switches Gabriel's behind until it rivals the color of an apple. My bottom trembles in anticipation of her wielding such a switch on my derriere. Henry's finger slides deep inside me. My female aperture clenches tight and desire washes over me to be filled. Henry threatening to warm my bottom. My lower cheeks heat up as I imagine his hand administering sharp spanks while I lie helpless across his lap.
I lay in an agony of desire, how long I cannot say. My mind relives those fragments of memory and fantasy and more, expanding on them, creating a world of fancy that sweeps me through fiery rivers of passion. I am helpless lying here, offered to all who might care to have me in any manner they wish. That knowledge rocks my body with insane cravings. I feel lewd, lascivious. I am invaded with a desire to be used ruthlessly, a plaything for both men and women. These shameful thoughts do not repel me as they once would have. They seem perfectly natural.
As my body throbs and pulses and the fires rage within me, I come to understand what Aunt Meg has been getting at. A woman is a multi-orificed being, thirsting to be quenched. One must find the proper source of liquid nourishment or always be parched. She has been trying to tell me this, to keep me from making a serious mistake.
Suddenly I feel a hand on my backside, or do I imagine it? Cool skin rubs me, all over. My bottom rises hungrily into the air for more. The hand slides down between the crack in my backside and a finger pauses at my bottom hole. Oh, the need that rushes through me! I buckle and thrash about, struggling to force that digit inside me, but it only rests there, teasing me, taunting me with its power to pleasure or pain or withhold.
I do not know if this finger is real or a creation of my tormented imagination. I do not know whose finger it is, even whether it belongs to the hand of a man or woman. I feel no shame that it may be the hand of my aunt or my uncle, or even a servant. I only know I am crying out in frustration, unheard, of course, because of the gag. Heat soars through my body, threatening to burn me to a crisp. I can hardly breath. Perspiration slicks my flesh. I am starving. I need to be entered there, to be entered everywhere. All at once. And soon, or I shall go mad!
In a flash of enlightenment, I greet my base nature and discover an elemental truth about myself, one I had not previously known. I know who I am and what I want. And to the one who will fulfill me, I shall give all.
Chapter Twelve
"Come along, Ursula. You are not worst for wear from your solitude, I take it."
"No, Aunt Meg. Quite the contrary. I expect I now have a fresh perspective."
Meg smiles indulgently at her young niece. It is as though the girl has seen the moon for the first time and does not yet realize that the stars also await her.
She leads Ursula down the stone cellar steps and unlocks the door that leads down one more flight, to the hidden basement below the house. It is here that Meg has perfected all the tricks of her hidden trade, and here that her guests await them.
When they enter the salon, Ursula's eyes widen.
"You did not expect such an elaborate setting, I take it."
"No, Aunt Meg, I did not. My, but this is a peculiar blend of elegance and simplicity. What is that thing there?"
She points to the small stage about two feet off the floor, on which sits a wooden horse, like the rocking horses built for children, although this one is rather larger, apparently for an adult. Affixed to the horse's back is a saddle of a peculiar nature.
"All in good time, my dear," Meg says, leading her niece through the room to greet one and all.
"Ursula!" Constance Wilcox says, taking the girl's hands, although Meg perceives from her manner a certain insincerity. "Welcome to Meg's salon. I'm so happy you could join us. It will an enlightening experience, no doubt."
"For you both," Meg says, winking at Constance.
She explains to Ursula, "This is Constance's week, you see. She will be the star of the performance."
Ursula, naturally, looks baffled. She is about to ask, 'What performance?' when Meg pats her arm and nudges her forward so that she may introduce her to Louise and the four other ladies present.
All have changed their attire and now wear as Meg does the simple grey frocks of Meg's design. There is much kissing and fondling among the women, but none dare touch Ursula. Once she has said her hellos, Meg takes her behind a lacquered Chinese screen and hands her a similar garment. "Put this on."
Ursula holds up the simple rough cotton dress as though it were a rag. The floor-length smock is covered with buttons and button holes and Meg knows she can't make head or tail of it. "Why, Auntie?"
"Because I tell you to, Ursula."
"No, I meant what's wrong with the dress I'm wearing?"
"Do you not see that all the others are dressed the same? Do you wish to stand out like a sore thumb? Embarrass them? Make them feel shabby by comparison?"
"Well, no, of course not..."
"Then do as you're told!" Meg pulls a segment of the screen around her smartly but then says from the other side, "And, Ursula, no underthings. None at all. Simply the dress and bare feet. And loosen your hair. Do you understand?"
"Y...yes, Aunt Meg."
The moment Meg returns to the others, Louise demands, in her petulant manner which so annoys on occasion, "Where is our guest of honor? We've been kept waiting long enough."
"Open it!" Meg says, pointing to her left breast. Louise inhales sharply. Her eyes tell Meg she regrets her outburst, but it is too late for regret, and she know that. Obediently she unbuttons the twenty tiny pearl buttons that hold the top and sides of the round flap over her left breast. When she has finished, the flap falls and her breast is ex
posed. The nipple is large, the areola dark. Meg pinches the fleshy underside of Louise's breast hard, just beneath the nipple, catching the areola. A gasp escapes her lips and her face distorts in pain as their eyes meet.
"Who is mistress here?" Meg demands quietly.
"You are, Mistress Meg. Of course you are. There was never a question of that."
"And you are?"
"Your obedient and worthless servant," she sobs.
Meg holds onto the flesh, squeezing and twisting it hard between her thumb and finger until tears fill Louise's eyes.
"Now, Louise, did you have a complaint?"
"No, Mistress Meg. None whatsoever."
"Good. And I shouldn't like to hear that tone out of you again this evening or you'll be astride the saddle until sunrise with an aching backside besides."
Fear clouds Louise's moist eyes. She falls to her knees and kisses Meg's bare toes. At that moment Ursula appears from behind the screen. She sees Meg, with Louise at my feet, and hurries over.
Ursula has a trim waist, a full rounded ass and breasts that will provide many years of enjoyment to the one lucky enough to claim ownership, Meg thinks. All of this fills out the simple grey smock that clings to the girl's body, flattering it in a manner that the others present cannot hope to match. She is such an innocent, so virginal in every manner of speaking. So ripe! The way she walks, her mannerisms. Her golden hair hanging to her waist and sways seductively as she walks. But Meg realizes she must restrain herself. After all, Ursula's value lies in her purity.
"Well," Constance says, "eying Ursula with both lust and jealousy, "what shall we do with her? After all, this is my night, and she's new here."
"No one will deprive you your due," Meg assures Connie. "Ursula will sit in The Virgin's Seat, naturally. Where else would you put her?"
"Marvelous idea, Mistress," Louise chortles from the floor, lapping Meg's arches.
"As long as she's not in my way," Connie says, turning her back, her fiery locks flying as she walks across the room. It will be a pleasure, Meg thinks, watching Connie's flesh turn a shade to match that hair.
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