by Golden Angel
“Spread your legs.”
The air on the inner lips of Vivian’s pussy was cool against the hot, wet skin. Fingers probed Vivian’s folds, from both hands, stroking and gliding up and down the slick crevices of her sex, wetting Mrs. Banks’s fingers with the sweet cream that Vivian’s body had produced in response to her punishment. With two fingers of her left hand liberally coated in honey, Mrs. Banks transferred the attentions of those fingers to the rosette of Vivian’s anus. The tight orifice opened as Mrs. Banks pressed forward, causing a different kind of burn between Vivian’s flaming cheeks.
Mrs. Banks smiled as she listened to the young woman’s small sounds of embarrassed pleasure. The grasping ridged entrance was very tight, but it gave way easily in this position; with her legs spread the way they were, it was very difficult for Vivian to clench her buttocks with any strength. The channel burned inside as Mrs. Banks pressed inwards, her other hand rubbing gently over Vivian’s welts and reawakening the sensitive nerves in her skin. The slick press of her fingers invading and retreating felt almost good by comparison, even though the stretch of her rectum stung and tingled.
Moaning, Vivian felt her hips thrust as Mrs. Banks began to play with both her holes, inserting her fingers into them and moving them back and forth in different rhythms. The invasion of her anus tingled as her pussy creamed, her holes tightening down as she began the slow climb to pleasure out of the smoldering embers of her erotic response to punishment.
“Does it hurt, Vivian?”
“A little,” she said back, panting as Mrs. Banks twisted her fingers back and forth in circular motions. The sensation was incredibly strange and yet very erotic. The more Mrs. Banks plundered her backside, the wetter Vivian’s pussy became. Mrs. Banks pressed her fingers against the little bud of Vivian’s clitoris, rubbing it gently.
“How about now?”
Vivian couldn’t formulate a response as the manipulation of her clit sent waves of needy pleasure washing through her. Part of her loved the punishment, even as she cried out and begged for it to stop, and the moment any kind of pleasurable sensations began to mix with the pain, it was like a jolt of lightning to her pussy. Immediately her confused senses began to spiral, constricting and releasing. Her inner muscles worked against Mrs. Banks’s fingers, tightening down and trying to suck them further inwards.
“Very good, Vivian, squeeze my fingers . . . good. Your husband will like that a lot. Keep squeezing, sweetheart. Doesn’t it feel good when you squeeze your muscles?” It did, even though it also increased the sensation of burning friction in her anus as it spasmed.
Despite the strain of having her anus breached, the slick penetration began to feel incredibly good as Mrs. Banks worked her clitoris with increasing speed and intensity. The movements of her body made her sensitive breasts rub against the sheets, and her nipples started to throb for an entirely new reason. It hurt deliciously, her body interpreting it as more pleasure and sending her heart racing faster.
Mrs. Banks thrust two fingers back and forth in each hole, exploring and twisting her digits. Vivian’s swollen folds were aching from all the stimulation as pain merged with pleasure. It seemed to happen faster every time now, her body confusing the responses more quickly as it was trained to the erotic torment. The new burn on her breasts, as well as Vivian’s emotional reaction, made her need for some kind of release more heightened than ever. She wanted the pleasure, felt she deserved it after the unexpected and undeserved addition to her evening punishment.
With her hands still tied at the small of her back there was nothing Vivian could do but give herself over to the bursts of ecstasy and torment as the erotic pleasure melded with the irritation of her punished parts. Everything burned, everything tightened and tightened and tightened, like a spool of thread that shrank as it wound around.
A press on her insides in a particular spot, and the constricted channel of her asshole tightened even more as Vivian bucked. Her nipples rubbed over the fabric of her sheets and the fire inside her flared as if another stick had just been thrown on it. Her insides burned and tingled until the sensation became too much and the inferno burst outwards, a combustion reaction of beautiful rapture that had her writhing and convulsing in ecstasy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN Vivian AWOKE, SHE WAS FEELING especially drained after the rigors of her punishment, and the addition of her breasts as part of that punishment. She had become somewhat used to her bottom being sore; the tenderness of her breasts and nipples was an entirely new experience.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
A gentle voice had Vivian turning, and then she squeaked and froze as the sheets passing over her breasts felt uncomfortable and scratchy against her tender skin. Her nipples tingled, but the sensation was not entirely unpleasant.
At the side of the bed, her maid smiled gently at her. “I have your breakfast, miss.”
“Thank you,” Vivian said, holding her night rail in place against her chest to keep the fabric from moving over her skin.
After the maid had laid out her breakfast, Vivian sat up to eat, moving very carefully. Even the weight of her breasts wobbling slightly felt strange. Would the earl really punish her in such a manner? Would he enjoy doing so?
Giving her an encouraging smile, the maid bustled around the room, laying out everything Vivian needed to ready herself for the day.
Vivian tried to shake off her daydreams of Gabriel as she applied herself to her breakfast. She needed to remain focused, because she had no doubt that Mrs. Banks would punish her assiduously if she made any mistakes today; last night’s previous activities notwithstanding.
Reading over the letter Mrs. Banks had sent him that afternoon, Gabriel had mixed feelings. He was pleased to hear of his future wife’s progress, and yet frustrated by the current need to stay away. There was a bill in Parliament his father wanted passed and the entire family was focused on garnering support for it. Unfortunately, it meant Gabriel had no time to go to the school and visit.
At night, he dreamed of red hair the color of sunrise, and pale skin that turned pink under his hand. Although rumors of his engagement were making their way round the ton, the absence of his fiancée meant more than one marriage-minded mama was still trying to foist her offspring on him. Other ladies, whose interests were decidedly not matrimonial, weren’t shy about offering their favors either, but not one of them tempted him.
He wanted only one woman, and the idea of slaking his desires with a poor substitute held no appeal.
Sighing, he put the letter down in the box where he kept all the reports on his future wife, trying to refocus his mind back to what he’d been working on before the letter had been delivered. He would be with Vivian soon enough. Not just the formal visits he’d been making either; soon he’d be a part of her training.
Shifting his breeches to a more comfortable position, Lord Cranborne bent back over the letter he was writing.
Over the next two days, Vivian worked harder than ever. The day after Mrs. Banks had punished her breasts, she’d earned ten spanks to her bottom, which nearly made Vivian sigh with relief at the more usual punishment. Those ten had been peppered and warmed her skin, making her squirm, just not in pain. The back and forth of sensations Mrs. Banks elicited from her was quite confusing and wonderful. Each evening, following her punishment, Mrs. Banks continued to insert her fingers into Vivian’s body as she was given her pleasure.
Thursday evening, after her punishment, Mrs. Banks introduced a new device to her training. Vivian had become used to having her bottom fingered; now Mrs. Banks kept the young woman on her lap as she oiled up a rubber contraption. Mrs. Cunningham had found the rubber dilators were just as useful for stretching out a young woman’s bottom, replacing the marble and polished wood instruments that had been used in the past.
It came in three different sizes, although the largest was rarely used as they didn’t want to stretch out the tight ring of muscle too greatly. Just far enough to accust
om the young woman to an intrusion.
The rubber felt strange in Vivian’s tight hole. She moaned and clutched at the legs of the chair as Mrs. Banks pushed it back and forth, shoving it deeper with every stroke between her reddened cheeks. Beneath that slim, pumping rod, the lips of her pussy were swollen and wet, becoming even wetter. It tingled and burned as her muscles stretched and pulsed around the invader. She could actually feel the same kind of pleasure building in her pussy, even before Mrs. Banks inserted her fingers into that sopping orifice.
With her bottom filled by the strange dilator and her pussy full of pumping fingers, Vivian had an explosive orgasm over Mrs. Banks’s lap before she was put on her knees to clean the companion’s fingers. The dilator remained securely lodged between her lower cheeks as she performed this service, a slightly uncomfortable reminder of how little control she had over her own body.
Afterwards, Vivian was laid down on the bed and the dilator was removed before she was tucked in under the sheets. Her bottom felt sore and tingly from being stretched, but it also contributed to the feeling of warm satisfaction between her legs. Sleepily, Vivian smiled at the reward she’d been given.
Saturday had her restless, as usual, especially since she’d had no word from the earl all week. It made her feel pouty, if she were to be honest, but Emily helped to dispel some of her gloom by insisting they go riding together in the afternoon. On Sunday she went to church services with the other students and spent the rest of the day in the school’s gardens.
The next week was particularly hard on the young ladies who were part of the practicum as they prepared for their first real social event. The tea they would be holding that Friday afternoon was part of the practicum curriculum, but it was also a chance for some of the respected and powerful ladies of the ton to cast their eyes on the latest crop of students before they were introduced to society. Those venerable matrons could hold the key to a young woman’s success once she was out, as long as she made a good impression on them. They were to show all the elegance and grace they’d learned at the school, and their companions rode them hard on matters of etiquette, propriety, and demeanor all throughout the week. After all, their performances would reflect upon the school.
None of them were pushed as hard as Vivian, however.
What the young ladies were unaware of was that the ladies who attended the tea would often bring male escorts other than their husbands. Instead, their sons, nephews, grandsons, and various other young male acquaintances would be dragooned into attending with them. For those marital-minded young men, this would be an opportunity to look over the newest crop of young misses.
For those who were less interested in the marriage mart, it was a move made to placate their older female relatives.
Vivian knew from the guest list that Lady Audrey Cecil, the Marquess of Salisbury’s wife, and stepmother of the Earl of Cranborne, would be in attendance.
Of course, she wanted to make a good impression on her future parents-in-law, but she felt reasonably comfortable in her manners and social acumen. Facing them would be nerve-wracking, but since she had no idea what they knew of her training, she assumed they would be looking her over to ensure she wouldn’t be an embarrassment to their family. She felt fairly confident she could comport herself well enough to reassure them on that part. What agitated her the most was wondering if the earl would also be in attendance.
However, she had plenty of other matters to fill her mind with during the week, between her fantasies of the earl. On Monday evening she was tested again after Mrs.
Banks plied the hairbrush to Vivian’s blushing bottom before filling it with the small dilator. Just thinking about the earl being so intimately acquainted with her body had Vivian’s climaxes reaching epic heights.
The next day it was even harder to keep up her concentration during the practicum; she found her mental state to be divided between concentrating on the tasks at hand and lost in physical need. She smiled and chatted naturally with the other girls, not one of them guessing her head was filled with thoughts of amorous things she might do with her earl.
That night Mrs. Banks introduced her to the crop. Not because she had been bad; in fact Mrs. Banks reassured her she’d been very good, but in order to introduce her to more of the implements she might be punished with. Rather than being put over Mrs. Banks’s lap, Vivian found herself bent over her bed with her body propped up on her elbows so her breasts swayed beneath her. Every jerk in response to the bite of the crop had her nipples brushing against the covers of her bed.
Each mark was harsh, but so small she couldn’t decide whether or not she thought the crop was worse than the hairbrush. It was certainly a very different sensation. She sank into the punishment, her pussy clenching every time the crop landed on the rising heat within her bottom. Blows to her sit-spot had her crying out, as the intense sting was particularly painful there.
When Mrs. Banks landed the first strike to Vivian’s clit she spasmed, her body bucking hard as the little nub throbbed and swelled. Then the crop landed and stayed, leather rubbing over the swollen, sensitive clit, and Vivian screamed into the mattress as she came hard with a gush of fluid that trickled down her thighs. The climax left her sobbing with ecstasy.
She was almost dazed as Mrs. Banks began to work the middle-sized dilator into her bottom for the first time. The muscles cramped and stretched, so very sensitive in the wake of her climax, as her bottom was pushed open by the bulbous instrument. Vivian moaned and lifted her hips, offering herself up.
“Good girl,” Mrs. Banks crooned. “I’m so very pleased with you, Vivian, and the earl will be too.”
Fingers pressed against her clit, rubbing knowingly, and Vivian found herself writhing again as pleasure burst through her. This orgasm was gentler and more complete, traveling all the way to the tips of her toes and fingers, as if her entire body was one large sexual organ. Her breath sobbed in and out with the overwhelming pleasure.
vivian’s last hazy thought, as she was tucked into bed, was that she very much enjoyed being a good girl.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TO Vivian’S SURPRISE, ON FRIDAY THE MAID came in with a new dress that had been made especially for her. It was a gorgeous creation of mint green and ivory with tiny accents of gold; the exact hues that set off her coloring beautifully and made others murmur that, in the case of Miss Stafford, perhaps red hair wasn’t always an affliction. And for those who actually appreciated the unusual coppery red tresses, it raised her to the level of a goddess.
She had no idea Lord Cranborne had commissioned the dress, with the measurements provided by the school, from one of the most well-known and in-demand modistes in London. The soft fabric slithered over her skin, caressing her body, and Vivian shivered with the sensual pleasure of it. The dress was easily the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn. With delicate beading around the neck and bodice, it was cut to accentuate her hourglass figure in an elegant way. There was nothing overtly sexual about the dress, in fact it was quite modest, but it was enticing.
Admiring herself in the mirror, Vivian couldn’t help but smile. The dress gave her the extra little boost of confidence she needed, especially since at the tea she was going to be meeting her future parents-in-law. While she had confidence in her manners, she had to admit this was better than she’d hoped to look when meeting them. Not that any of her dresses had been shabby since she’d begun attending Mrs. Cunningham’s Finishing School, but none of them compared to this, either.
Finishing off the toast that had been provided for her breakfast, Vivian hurried from her room and to the school’s entrance. The other young ladies were gathered there—all of them were early and chattering excitedly. While they were aware that today’s tea was a test, they were also in high spirits and feeling fairly confident, which was exactly how their training was supposed to make them feel. They were also all dressed in their finest day dresses, looking splendid as a group. The companions watched with the smug satisfaction of
teachers who had every confidence in their students, bolstering the morale of the young ladies even further.
It quickly became apparent that the gentlemen escorting the ladies who had been invited for tea were not their husbands, but their sons. The revelation sent the young misses into even further heights of tension, although they were all too well-schooled to show it. Several of the young men attached themselves quickly to some of the students, while others looked bored as if they desired to be anywhere but where they were, although they were too mannered to say so. Several did a kind of round-robin between the young misses in an effort to speak with each of them. They were spread out on a patio beside the gardens of the house, as the weather was cooperating beautifully, and it gave them a good bit of room to host a section of the party.
All in all, the tea was going well, although Vivian was still on pins and needles waiting for Lady Salisbury to arrive. Would she bring the marquess, her husband, or would she bring her stepson and Vivian’s betrothed?
Despite the attentions of several young gentlemen who had arrayed themselves in the group around her settee, Vivian’s eyes were constantly flicking to the doorway as her tension ratcheted upwards with every passing moment. Several of the grande dames of the ton inserted themselves into her group, silencing the young men who waited for the delightful Miss Stafford’s attention again. Vivian’s demeanor was quite natural and sweet, her manner unaffected, and the grande dames found themselves delighted by her, despite the ostentatious color of her hair.
Satisfied, the ladies smiled and uprooted themselves to move on to the next student. As they did so, the men naturally scooted closer to Miss Stafford, each making an effort to be the one to gain her attention now that it was free again—and it was this sight that greeted the Earl of Cranborne when he walked into the room with his stepmother on his arm.