by Emily Tilton
But… but I do… She wished her mind would stop thinking, would stop agreeing with Joe and Miss Reynolds, and just let her feel, because it felt so good to have his hands there in the naughtiest places, rubbing and pressing, and entering her gently.
“No, thank you, Miss Reynolds. I’ve got this sweet girl under control. So nice and smooth,” Joe said. “So lovely down here, Alice. I sure do hope I’m the one to pop your cherry and open your bottom.”
“Spank her now,” Miss Reynolds instructed. “Quite hard, I think, so that there’s no mistake.”
“No!” Alice wailed, some of her reason finally returning in a desperate attempt to stave off the punishment. “I’ll suck it! I’ll suck it!”
“Yes, you will,” Joe growled, and then he started to spank her.
Alice didn’t know how she kept her wits even as much as she managed to do, through the terrible pain of the spanking. Having the ability to think, though, continued to make matters worse, because all her brain could produce seemed to be more puzzled thoughts about why she did feel grateful—why she felt grateful even for Joe’s big, firm hand spanking and spanking where Miss Reynolds’ birch had already taught her such a fiery lesson.
At last he finally stopped, and stood her up, lifting her nightgown over her head in a single sweeping motion to make her as naked as all the other girls at the table, who had continued to eat, though very quietly. Miss Reynolds had made it clear to Alice soon after her arrival that when a girl was being punished or enjoyed in the presence of other girls, the others must remain respectfully silent, in acknowledgment of their own submission to the authority of the man to whom the girl being chastised or fucked belonged. Alice supposed she belonged to Elder Shaw, now, but as his delegates Miss Reynolds and Mr. Smithers had the same right to have their use of her accorded the dignity with which the citizens of Brownsville managed erotic matters.
“Kneel, Alice,” said Miss Reynolds, and Alice knelt, the tears drying quickly on her cheeks because Joe’s hand, now that it had finished its terrible visitation of her bare bottom, had lit a fire in its wake, like the fire Mrs. Gantner had once awoken, and like the one Mary had quenched in Joe’s cabin, but much, much hotter. She ached down there, and the little bud Miss Reynolds had taught her to call her clitoris tingled so that she had to squeeze with her thighs. The squeeze made her cry out in a way that Alice already knew to be unmistakable for anything but a girl with a needy cunt, and that brought a helpless giggle from several girls at the table.
“Silence, girls, or more of you than Alice will feel correction this morning,” said Miss Reynolds.
In front of her, Joe had lowered his canvas work pants, and his big cock, the one that she had seen in his cabin, the first one upon which she had ever laid eyes, hovered before her.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” Joe said, his voice gentle now.
His cock was bigger than Ken Sweeney’s, Alice saw. She didn’t know how to feel about that, since Irma Fenton had whispered to her that Alice would surely be given either to Mr. Sweeney or to Mr. Smithers. It would be easier to suck Mr. Sweeney’s penis, she supposed, but she also felt that same strange pride she had imagined she might as Joe sheathed himself in her mouth.
He moved himself in and out while she tried to keep her lips open wide, with her tongue over her teeth, as Miss Reynolds had instructed while Mr. Sweeney enjoyed Miss Fenton the previous day. He held her head gently at first, but she supposed he must be enjoying himself greatly, for his grip tightened and he fucked her face as he had fucked Mary’s bottom, until his hips jerked and the white seed spurted into Alice’s mouth. He gave a grunt of unmistakable pleasure, and the pride in Alice’s chest grew even as she swallowed the strange, salty stuff desperately, wanting not to let any spill as a little had spilled out of Miss Fenton’s lips.
Joe held himself inside her lips, stroking her cheek with one hand, for a long while. “Good girl,” he said. “Such a good girl.”
Chapter Twelve
“Irma Fenton says that Miss Reynolds is trying to make Mr. Sweeney and Mr. Smithers compete for Alice,” said Miss Sally Treadway, Thomas’ first young lady, as she knelt before him to take his hard cock reverentially in her mouth.
Sally sucked the elder’s penis every day at this time, just after sunset, in his little den, while he sat in his overstuffed easy chair. Miss Mae Burton, the elder’s second young lady, sat primly by on the settee, her blue skirts spreading around her like a pool of cool water. Mae had arrived from Miss Reynolds’ school to complete Thomas’ household only the previous month, and she still blushed when Thomas made her watch Sally pleasure their master on her knees that way.
He rested his hand atop the dark brown hair of his darling girl as she moved her mouth skillfully up and down upon his manhood, eyes respectfully down and hands respectfully at her sides. Sally wasn’t allowed to use her hands until instructed to by Thomas. He stroked her hair gently as he watched the lovely, shameful sight of his cock in a pretty young mouth, silencing any further words Sally might have on the matter of Miss Alice Rhodes.
“What have you heard, Mae?” he asked his second darling, not taking his eyes from the delicious fellatio that made him thrust himself a little deeper inside Sally’s mouth. He would climax soon, he knew, as he usually did when sucked by Miss Sally Treadway, well trained by Miss Reynolds to please a natural man. He wanted as much sensation, then, as he could have, and he said, “You may use your hands, my dear. Cup my balls, if you please.”
Thomas glanced at Mae, whose eyes had gone wide at the unusual request that she speak while observing her senior young lady’s lewd pleasuring of their master.
“Come here and lift your skirts, Mae,” he said. “I want to play with your sweet cunny while I spend in Sally’s mouth.”
Mae nodded, biting her lip, and rose from the settee. Lifting her skirts to expose her pretty white drawers, split between the legs like all the drawers ordered by Miss Reynolds for the young ladies of Brownsville, she came to stand next to his chair, her petticoats covering Sally’s back and head a little—very cozily, Thomas thought. He put his hand out to finger her adorable cunt through the split in the thin cotton lawn chosen by Miss Reynolds because it posed little hindrance to a spanking, when a girl required punishment at a moment when baring her bottom might prove inconvenient. Mae gave a little whimper and closed her eyes, as her master drew her always ready wetness from the sweet aperture between her neatly shaven labia.
“Open your eyes, Mae,” he said gently, “and watch Sally suck. It will soon be you on your knees every afternoon. Tell me what you have heard about Alice? Is she often punished in front of the visitors?”
“Y-yes,” Mae stammered. “Irma says that she’s spanked every time, and it’s always Mr. Sweeney or Mr. Smithers who does it. Miss Reynolds says it’s to make her respectful, but Irma thinks it’s to make sure that if the men are in a contest for Alice they’ll do their best to master her.”
As he had supposed it might, Mae’s account of visiting days at Miss Reynolds’ school, together with the delicious feeling of her slick cunny and the even more delicious, obedient feeling of Sally’s mouth, sent Thomas over the edge into a lovely climax. Sally swallowed every drop hungrily, as she always did, and Thomas advised Mae with gentle authority to do the same when her turn came, and thus to show proper gratitude for the guidance and protection young ladies received from the natural man who held the right of the phallus over them.
As he calmly taught blushing Mae and gratefully kissed naughty Sally, though, Thomas thought about what Stella Reynolds had decided to do with regard to Alice. He had to confess himself dismayed at the schoolteacher’s efforts to set Joe Smithers and Ken Sweeney at odds. In principle, the elder knew, Miss Reynolds had only followed the course of action recommended by Dr. Brown for such occasions in the lives of natural men and submissive young ladies.
When establishing the right of the phallus, read the beginning of Chapter 5 of On the necessity of men’s exercising their
natural rights in erotic matters, care should be taken by anyone who happens to be in authority over the girl in question to allow those natural men who might press a claim to that right to show themselves to best advantage. Competition in this regard can prove very healthy, provided no ill will be allowed to develop. Moreover, the contests set before the men, in mastering the girl (and such other young ladies as may happen to be loaned for the purpose by their own masters), can provide a whole natural community with opportunities for enjoyment and education.
But the matter between Joe and Ken seemed to Thomas by no means guaranteed to avoid the sort of ill will the doctor had mentioned in this passage and which he also, in confidence with his elders, had told them could be the greatest difficulty facing the happy life of Brownsville. If only Joseph Shaw had returned from San Francisco a week earlier, Thomas thought, he might well have counseled his young lady the schoolteacher to take a different course.
On the other hand, Joseph had finally gotten into Brownsville the previous night, with a group of six new girls. At least three girls from the school would have to be assigned at the next town meeting, and publicly claimed by their new masters. One of them of course must be Alice, thanks to the unusual mode of her arrival that had made the question of her possession quite pressing. If the man who didn’t get to fuck away Alice’s maidenhead over the bench of claiming could be given another girl in her stead, things might work out fine.
But Miss Reynolds’ attempt to spur competition between Ken and Joe seemed likely to get in the way of that idea. The same strange story of Alice’s coming to Brownsville that gave Joe a sort of prima facie claim to the right of the phallus over her made her, it had quickly become clear, very attractive to Ken as well. Even before Sally and Mae had told Thomas of the spankings Alice got on visiting days, he had heard from Vic Rottner, the number two man at the bunkhouse, that Ken had announced his intention to be the one to pop Alice’s cherry, in that delightful new American phrase. Now the increased spur to competition occasioned by the extremely natural envy of one dominant young man toward another who gets to spank a pretty bottom while he himself must look on would make matters worse, unless Thomas could do something to avert ill feeling.
He decided to attend the next visiting day, and see for himself. With the weather having eased a bit and the paths well worn from town to the outlying farm cabins, all the men who hadn’t yet gotten a young lady of their own came on Mondays and Thursdays to observe a lesson and then spend time with the schoolgirls in the spacious parlor and the training room on the second floor.
The scene, to Thomas’ eyes, resembled a sort of Western American version of Dr. Brown’s school in Westmoreland, back in England. He knew Miss Reynolds, herself trained as Elder Shaw’s young lady at Dr. Brown’s college, had attempted to recreate the same atmosphere, where false modesty might be shed and the delights of Venus enjoyed to their fullest for both natural men and submissive young ladies.
Thomas didn’t think, however, that Miss Reynolds had intended the flavor of the saloon to pervade the scene quite the way it did—among other things she forbade strong drink to the men, though the girls were allowed to sip cordial in order to help them overcome their reluctance to learn the special sort of lessons the young men wished to teach. Miss Reynolds did not allow them to become drunk, of course; any girl she judged to have over-imbibed went straight to the dormitory, ground off-limits to men.
Nevertheless the men themselves, with their wonderful rough mixture of low origins in the East and frontier swagger, turned visiting days from the sort of refined erotic episodes that one might recognize from the manor house of a naughty squire to rowdier affairs that cross-pollinated that sort of scene with a bracing hint of the bordello. The result never truly threatened to escape Miss Reynolds’ control, her rather posh accent ruling over all with the ultimate authority that even the rougher men from the bunkhouse obeyed without hesitation. The lovely brunette’s natural grace accomplished that, with some reinforcement in the galvanizing presence of more experienced cocksmen like Ken, Vic, and Joe, always there to keep the newer fellows in line.
As Dr. Brown himself had observed in his treatise, It is a central paradox of the education of the natural man that he can be most easily civilized by the judicious granting of his natural rights. What man interested in such affairs has not seen an ill-educated man strive to gain refinement when a pretty girl’s bodily charms will constitute the reward of his scholarship? Those who have young ladies to lend to this civilizing process will find themselves repaid a hundredfold in the gratitude shown by a worthy young natural man given the opportunity to master a girl through coitus and discipline.
Joe and Ken, two men thus civilized in their first year in Brownsville, when the girls had been a good deal scarcer, stood tall and broad-chested at the back of Miss Reynolds’ schoolroom when Thomas made his way in to observe the lesson. Visiting days always began in this fashion, partly in order to build the delightful erotic charge of the occasion and partly to allow the men who watched to see something of what the girls who might one day belong to them learned from Miss Reynolds. It represented another civilizing touch—this one proposed by Miss Reynolds herself to Dr. Brown and heartily approved by him back at the beginning of the enterprise, in Westmoreland.
Of course Thomas knew, though the other men watching did not, that Miss Reynolds saved a special sort of lesson for Mondays and Thursdays. The other days’ teachings had much less of Venus and much more of Minerva, as the girls learned the home economy that would help them do their part on the frontier, as well as the cultural refinement that the elders hoped would elevate the society of Brownsville in the course of time into one that might suit the thriving metropolis they envisioned, a sort of Mecca for natural men and submissive young ladies.
The lessons of Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays (for the girls received only Sunday as a day of rest) would have bored these rough men to tears, Thomas knew. The lessons of Mondays and Thursdays never failed to interest them greatly. Today Miss Reynolds taught her twenty-three young ladies out of a book of classical mythology that Thomas knew very well: Dr. Brown had enthusiastically adopted it on the advice of his friend the Duke of Panton, who had had it specially prepared by his own beautiful young lady, Miss Clarissa Halton.
Alice sat at the desk next to Mary Jones, and Thomas smiled to see the newcomer glancing every now and again at her first friend in Brownsville, as if reassuring herself that Mary found Alice’s conduct becoming. The girls of course all wore school pinafores over modest blue dresses as suited the scene best. Underneath, as every man present knew, their school knickers were of a much more tight-fitting cut than the drawers they wore beneath the formal dresses they would don later in the day. The tight pants made girls not quite used to them fidget in their seats from time to time, and Thomas observed especially the new girls, who wore them this morning for the first time, squirming almost continually as they became ever more aware of how the fabric clung so closely to their newly shaved private parts.
Alice seemed to have become mostly used to her underwear, but Thomas saw her, too, shift a little as she listened to Miss Reynolds read from the book of myths.
“Perseus was the son of Jupiter and Danae. Acrisius, alarmed by an oracle which had told him that his daughter’s child would be the instrument of his death, locked Danae in a tower. But Jupiter saw her as he traveled by in the shape of an eagle, and he entered her chamber as a shower of gold. He made Danae kneel before him, and he put between her lips the fullness of his godly strength, until he chose to possess her more completely.”
The new girls looked about at one another as they listened, eyes rather wide. Alice looked at Mary, who smiled back a little mischievously, and then she stole a glance to the back of the room, to flash a shy smile at both Joe and Ken, who stood side by side. She noticed Thomas, then, and gave him a wider, less complicated smile. Before she turned back to look down at her own book on her desk, though, Thomas thought he saw a clo
ud pass across Alice’s brow.
Is she thinking of the spanking she’ll get later, according to Miss Reynolds’ idea of teaching her respect? Of which man she would rather have give it?
Chapter Thirteen
Alice did wonder who would spank her today. She wondered that, as resolutely as she could, because she didn’t want to let herself wonder something she knew held a greater importance, in the end: who she wanted to spank her?
She had no doubt at all, by this time, that she would be spanked, by Ken Sweeney or by Joe Smithers. Miss Reynolds had made it perfectly clear to her that as a newcomer in Brownsville, with the very special status of the girl who had come in from the cold to Joe’s cabin, special measures needed taking. The reasons for those special measures seemed rather less certain, but their basic nature—regular spanking over the knee of one of the two male citizens who stood most in need of a young lady of his own—had become entirely clear.
“You must learn respect, Alice,” Miss Reynolds had said on each of the five visiting days so far, when she had gone with drawers down, or, worse, naked, over Ken’s or Joe’s lap in the schoolroom or the parlor, where everyone else, girls and young men, could watch her bottom being well reddened by a big, firm hand.
Alice knew that to at least a small degree she had earned each of the spankings, through some small fault that Miss Reynolds quickly attributed to her newness in town, and pronounced sentence upon as a kind of remedial justice for a girl in Alice’s odd position.
The previous Thursday, while taking a cup of tea with Mr. Sweeney, she had glanced over at one of the newer bunkhouse men, a handsome fellow with a golden beard. She hadn’t meant anything by it; she just felt a great curiosity about the stories all the settlers of Brownsville, male and female, might tell concerning the path they had taken to the exceptional community. But Miss Reynolds had noticed, it seemed to Alice, the instant her eye had wandered from Mr. Sweeney’s, and the schoolteacher had spoken sharply.