"Ouch! Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I do manage, but Henry pays no heed. This instrument is large and covers one entire cheek so that when the spank lands, the pain spreads over a great area. Apparently the injury to Henry's hand does not inhibit him in the least. Soon both cheeks hurt madly and I writhe, struggling to get away. And yet, there is something exciting about being so powerless. Henry, I realize, may paddle my behind as long as he wishes and there is little I can do about it, if anything at all.
"Henry. Please! I beg you. Stop!" These are the words I heard Mrs. Wilcox crying last night and Henry heeds them no more with me than Hyde did with her, and a part of me is grateful. He continues to spank me as though there were no tomorrow, I bouncing on his lap, a delicious sensation spreading as my front rubs the fabric of his trousers and the hard thigh beneath it. My hands struggle to get the thick clump of skirt and petticoat out of the way so that I may at least attempt to protect my bottom, but the minute I do, Henry clasps my wrists together and holds them tightly with one hand, prohibiting any type of barrier from blocking the paddle's path.
I cannot stand this pain and yet at the same moment I love it. I feel helpless, lost in Henry's powerful, exacting will. Knowing that I cannot stop him but must endure all that he decides to administer leaves me limp and trembling. I cry and scream and writhe with abandon, assured my reaction will not stem the tide. In fact, I sense my cries and movements inspire him to greater heights. I feel myself being driven beyond that awful barrier of which Mr. Hyde spoke.
This is so exciting. My bottom wants to rise up to greet these awful spanks, but I am ashamed of such wanton feelings. But soon I am overwhelmed with lascivious energies coursing through my body and I abandon myself to Dr. Jekyll completely, moaning shamelessly my ecstasy, offering my bottom for the harsh therapy he deems necessary.
He stops suddenly and I am left lying like a dish rag across his knees, sobbing. The heat welling from my derriere makes it feel on fire. Never has all my attention been directed to one area of my body like this.
Henry picks me up about the waist and deposits me on a nearby divan, over the arm, so that my flaming rear portion is shamefully high in the air. Having it so on display titillates me further.
I lay sobbing, hiding my face in my hands, not knowing what will follow. Soon his large hands are spreading my burning cheeks apart. Now I am thoroughly humiliated, to be exposed so after being punished severely.
I feel a nudging at my back entrance. He will insert his finger again. Or that awful tool. This I want and dread. For a moment he pokes and prods the opening and I feel something within me contract and a thrill pulse up through my insides. I shiver in anticipation of that finger entering me so ruthlessly and imagine that I may experience what Mrs. Wilcox did last night.
I hear a sound, like hands being rubbed together, something slippery like lotion between them, as if flesh is being well oiled. Within seconds that nudge at my back door again. I am ready for his finger to invade me. I look forward to it.
Suddenly a mammoth item shatters me. It is hot and wet and hard. This enormous flesh breaks into my tight area, forcing the door wide open. I clutch the cushion and scream. This fleshy instrument enters further, shoving the walls apart as it goes, making room for itself. The pain is dreadful and at the same time exquisite. Henry pushes in deeper and I wonder just how far he can enter me. To my stomach? My heart? Can he come out my mouth? Fear envelops me and I feel so ignorant.
Suddenly he pauses and I feel his hot body pressed against my hot bottom, making the sore flesh perspire and therefore irritating it further. I lie impaled by him, realizing now that he is buried inside, all the way. I lie helpless, pain streaking and pleasure pulsing through my body, as Henry's large phallus simply pierces me. I cannot believe what is happening to me. His thick rod inside me prohibits movement on my part. More than ever I feel under Henry's will.
He pulls his rod back out and my walls close again as it retreats. I breathe a sigh of relief and moan in disappointment. It will exit and I will be back to normal. I shall go home and marry Hyde. But just as he reaches the end of my canal, suddenly he shoves himself back in again, even deeper it seems. Again, I scream, my eyes unfocused by tears. I can only call pathetically, "Henry! Henry!" not knowing what I am trying to communicate.
This procedure occurs again and again, my rectum ravaged as his enormous manhood thrusts in and out. This is what Hyde did to Constance. No wonder she looked so blissful by sunrise.
I can only submit to this, letting the fire in my bottom and the fire in my rectum sear towards one another, fearful of what will occur when they meet. I pant as rippling waves of alternating pleasure and pain roll through me. I so want this to continue but am embarrassed to say as much. Henry, though, has his own agenda. He will drive in and out of me until he has had his fill.
It suddenly occurs to me that I too should have my fill. I struggle to relax my bottom area. I imagine myself a container for his offering. The moment I think this way, suddenly an explosion takes place in my rectum that snakes out and rocks my body with shocking, pulsing sensation. I have felt nothing like this before. I can only convulse and scream as my insides seize up. For moments my mind shuts down completely. It is as though Henry and I have become one person.
Slowly I come back to myself. My bottom is still a forest fire, burning uncontrollably. Henry's member feels colossal within me and yet I love the size and the feeling of fullness it creates. I am disappointed when he withdraws and emptiness now exists where once I was packed.
I lie on the divan catching my breath. Henry moves about the room, doing this and that. Eventually I find the energy to pick myself up. I pull up my bloomers and drop my skirts. When I turn, Henry is staring at me, an attractive darkness lacing his eyes. He opens his arms and I enter them immediately.
His mouth finds mine and I taste his sweet tongue as it explores my mouth. Oh how I want this man to enter me in so many places!
We break apart and he stares at me. His face is so masterful, so firm. A man who will set limits within which I may be free to explore and experience all the ecstasy of which I am capable. "Well?" he says.
"Henry, my love."
"Then you will marry me."
"Yes, of course. I belong to you already, for have not you taken my virginity?"
"In that one place only. We must save something for our wedding night."
"You must make an honest woman of me," I say coyly, flirtatiously. He pulls me close and grabs my bottom, causing me wince in pain, another signal that he controls me.
"Then we will hear no more of Hyde."
I tilt my head back and open my mouth, which he kisses. But he will not be dissuaded.
"Promise me, Ursula. You will not see Hyde again."
"I promise you, Henry, my love."
Chapter Sixteen
"Alan! And Constance. So good to see you both," Gabriel says, shaking hands with the former and nodding to the latter. "Come in, come in. Lanyon has arrived already and is in the drawing room with Meg and Ursula."
His guests follow him down the narrow hallway lined French-style with artwork, mainly landscapes and portraits, the framed canvasses of varying sizes and shapes arranged helter skelter. Meg's idea, of course. Much of his life since his marriage a decade ago to the voluptuous Meg has fallen under her domain. Gabriel does not mind. In fact, he far prefers it this way. She is the engineer who drives his powerful engine fast and furiously along the track of life. She is demanding, exacting, and although there are times when he fears his supply of coal might give out, Meg always seems to know better. Just as he seems depleted of fuel, she manages to shove the throttle forward and stoke his fires. Often he performs with a power he is not aware he possesses. He feel grateful to his wife for her infinite patience and her meticulous care.
As Gabriel shows Alan and Constance in, Meg greets them both warmly, Constance in particular. Ursula, the demure virgin, rises, her lemon curls bouncing fetchingly against her shoulders.
Never has she looked so ravishing as at this moment and Gabriel wonders what has inspired this dazzling look.
"Come, Connie. And you too, Ursula," Meg says. "We'll retire into the next room and leave the men to smoke and drink and commune in the manner the male gender so enjoys. Besides, I want to hear the latest." She winks at Constance, who blushes and glances at her husband. Alan smiles broadly.
"Well, well," Gabriel says, as Meg closes the door behind herself, Connie and Ursula.
"I've come to my senses in one regard," Alan says, taking an armchair.
"And what's that?"
"With Connie. I see now how I've neglected her. Had that not been so, Hyde would have never gotten her in his clutches. But I've remedied that now."
"Have you?" Lanyon says, his tone the listless, melancholy one of late. He falls into another armchair and Gabriel takes yet a third.
"Indeed. And you, Hastie, how are you recovering?"
"Yes," Gabriel adds, tell us.
"The body heals deliciously slowly, for those sensations are desirable. However, they cannot help but draw my attention to other needs, as deep, and now unfulfilled."
"You're speaking of Hyde and his abandonment," Alan says.
"I am."
"My poor fellow. I do so feel for you." Alan puts and arm around Hastie's shoulder. Lanyon lays his head upon the other's chest, and Gabriel finds this act sweetly erotic.
"Well, gentlemen, I believe a drink is in order. Port? Vermouth?"
"Absinthe," Hastie says.
"Well, it is evening. Meg will be fearfully annoyed with me should I reach too relaxed state."
"We shan't let that occur," Alan says, and Gabriel brings out the bottle. He pours the pale green liquid into tall flutes and hands one each to his friends. Once the glasses are in hand, he proposes a toast. "To Hyde."
"To his capture and punishment!" Alan contributes.
The three drink down the absinthe and Gabriel refills their glasses. Already the bitter licorice taste has lined his mouth and stomach and the liquor gone about it's work of rearranging his thoughts. "It feels awkward, not inviting Henry."
"Henry is a friend of Hyde's, though for the life of me, I can't see the connection," Alan says, pulling out his pipe. He stuffs into the bowl a blend of tobacco sprinkled with tiny black seeds, packs it down firmly, then lights it with a stick match. Aromatic smoke curls into the air.
Alan passes the pipe. "A new mixture. From India. You'll like the poppy seeds."
Gabriel decides to have a puff or two, although Meg will be angry at him for smoking more than one pipe a day. He knows his flesh will suffer for it, but the immediate draw of the exotic blend is too great and he proceeds.
Hastie is the only one not smoking. He shakes his head when offered the mixture. His face is grim, forlorn, actually, and Gabriel wishes there was some way to comfort him. As if reading his thoughts, Alan declares, "I've a plan, you know. It involves Ursula, the object of Hyde's desire. I suspect that should she and Henry marry, Hyde will be discouraged, provided Henry does his duty by her."
"Indeed," Gabriel says, inhaling the sweet tobacco smoke and sipping more absinthe. His thoughts are becoming ragged at the edges and seem to drift apart like clouds on a fall day, shaping and reshaping.
"I believe Hyde should be invited here, to Meg's salon."
"I don't know if Meg will agree to this and I myself have reservations in terms of involving my wife. You know, I've often thought we fellows should have our own salon, of sorts, and..."
"Are you literally in the dark, Gabe? Hyde has already been here."
Gabriel sits bolt upright. "How do you know that?"
"Last evening. Friday night. Constance was here and she was one of the objects of his interest that night. It was only when I returned home in the morning and found her sleeping in the buff that I discovered how he had marked her. Naturally I was furious. And worried. Her mental state was, how can I put it, not in tune as it normally is. It was Henry Jekyll who examined her and, with his help, Connie and I patched it up and I learned that it was my failing which had been the root of all this to begin with."
"My, my," Gabriel said. Images of his wife having her ample behind warmed by the black-clad Hyde stimulates him to no end. He can hardly concentrate on what Alan is saying. Hastie, who sits forlornly between them, sips at his drink, smoke from the two men he is sandwiched between curling around his head, and Gabriel is suddenly aware of the man's presence.
"My plan," Alan continues, "is that Hyde will be drawn by Ursula. I shall lay in wait and when he appears confront him both verbally and physically if I must."
"He's strong," Hastie contributes, his eyes leaving the floor only briefly, only to glance longingly at Alan, then Gabriel. "He used me utterly and masterfully."
"Indeed?" Gabriel says, feeling his cock respond to the idea.
"Yes, I was truly under the control of his leather and his cock."
Gabriel's cock obviously enjoys the story and wishes for more detail. He is about to ask for same when Alan, who seems in a world of his own, continues with his great plan.
"I'm trained in fisticuffs, as you both know, and have no fear of the man. And, as an instrument of the law, it is my prerogative to take him to the Yard for questioning."
"Hastie, say more of how he controlled you," Gabriel says, refilling all the glasses.
"You have yet to see his marks?" Hastie asks.
"Show me," Gabriel answers quickly, or what feels quickly to him, for now his actions and thoughts travel in slow motion.
Hastie undoes his fly then slides to the carpet. He pulls his breeches down and his underbreeches, revealing an ass tortured but on the mend.
Gabriel kneels down himself, eager to investigate. The lines are now faint, scribbled across patches of yellow, the bruises nearly faded. He can tell, though, it must have been quite the whipping for them to have lingered so long.
For some reason his cock feels constricted and he struggles to shift it around inside his trousers, without relief.
He decides to just unbutton his fly, for temporary relief. After all, they are all men here.
The sudden silence accosts him. Alan has ceased talking.
Gabriel glances up to see him standing before Hastie, looking down at him. He, too, is unbuttoning his fly and Gabriel feels the room temperature has somehow shifted. It is unbearably warm in here, hence all of the men need to loosen their clothing.
The weight of his cock and the pressure again the fabric causes him to lift it out into the cooler air. His fat fellow is huge. He watches him point in the direction of Hastie's bottom as if telling Gabriel of the direction he intends to go.
And that slim bottom is not unappealing. Gabriel spreads the cheeks. There between them is a fine hole, puckered, the pucker opening a little as if awaiting company. Below that a large set of balls hang. Gabe feels beneath them to discover Hastie's cock at attention.
Suddenly he is aware that Alan, too, is kneeling, but at Hastie's other end. His penis is out and at the ready. Gabriel watches him slide the monster into Hastie's eager mouth.
Now the hole calls to him. His cock seems to move of its own volition towards that portal. He knocks lightly and feels it give way. The invitation is clear and he enters straight away.
Hastie is slack, allowing access, but tense enough to provide stimulation. His ass thrusts back, at Gabriel's cock, then forward, as if asking him to leave. Gabriel has no intention of departing just yet. His balls feel full and demand an eruption. A sudden picture of Meg being whipped by Hyde flashes through his mind again, exciting him, and his cock thrusts in and out happily. Briefly he and Alan exchange grins.
The Inspector is also thrusting, Hastie moving back and forth between the two men, admitting one, then the other, in a balanced rhythm.
Yes, Gabriel thinks, we fellows should start a club of our own.
Chapter Seventeen
"Well, that's quite a story," Meg says, sitting back and staring at Connie. Ursul
a rocks quietly in the Bentwood in the corner, no doubt enthraled by the tale. "I'm glad the situation is somewhat improved between you and Alan. That should make life in the bedroom a bit more enjoyable."
"Already it has," Connie beams, sipping her Chardonney.
Meg hopes her friend is not letting herself in for a disappointment and tells her so. "You know, men are lazy and need constant prodding. Once they've started in on a bad habit, it can't be broken overnight. You'll have to keep at him or find yourself dancing alone, my girl."
Connie nods, but Meg senses she will need to come to this conclusion on her own.
"So, Ursula, how was your visit with Henry this morning?" Constance asks.
Meg is shocked and turns to my niece. Ursula looks like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. "You went to see Dr. Jekyll? And when was this? During your shopping trip?"
The girl shifts uneasily in her chair. "Yes, Aunt Meg. I meant to tell you about it."
"I'm sure you did. And what exactly occurred between the two of you, unchaperoned, I take it!"
Ursula looks guilty. Her face fills with color from the neck up. She claps her pretty little hands together and puts them over her lips, hunching her shoulders in consternation.
"Out with it, Ursula, and now!" Meg says.
"Oh, this should be good," Connie chuckles, sipping her wine.
"Well, Auntie, we had a row."
"About?"
"Oh, Aunt Meg, it was all innocent enough, at first. I went there to tell him I'd decided to marry Hyde."
"Marry Hyde!" Connie laughs. "That's a good one! According to Alan, he's left one after the other. His limit is a night and then he's gone."
"He feels differently about me!" Ursula announces hostilely.
"Be that as it may," Meg tells her, "I wish to hear the rest of your tête à tête with Jekyll."
The Darker Passions Page 13