by Emily Tilton
“I’ll examine Miss Deaver first,” said Dr. Brown, “because she has had more experience in the ways of erotic stimulation. Miss Stewart, you are to listen closely to the instructions I give your maid, and prepare yourself to follow them when your turn arrives.”
Leticia’s only response was her breath, coming in sharp puffs through her flaring nostrils.
“Do you understand, darling?” Sir Henry asked. He moved a little closer to the bed so that he could once again gaze down at his charmer. She frowned as she saw him come into view, and bit her lip. He felt certain she had thought, just as he had intended, of the caning to come, and of how its severity could be so easily adjusted depending on her conduct for the physician’s examination.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and again he found the words the sweetest he could ever hear.
“Now, try to relax, Miss Deaver,” Dr. Brown said. “I am going to put my speculum in your vagina now. The same muscles you undoubtedly use to respond to your fingers’ caress, and which you used especially when Miss Stewart excited your clitoris with her tongue last night, are under your control when you concentrate. If you can relax them for me, the speculum will feel odd, but not painful.”
Sir Henry, watching a gynecological examination for the first time, looked on in fascination as the shiny metal penetrated Celia’s cunt, urging the pink inner petals to either side as it slid within the virgin tunnel of her girlish sex. The little maid cried out, and let go of her knees in alarm for a moment.
“Hold still, girl,” Dr. Brown said, becoming impatient and severe. “Or I shall have Sir Henry render you immobile with the restraints in my bag. And relax your vagina. A clever girl like you, who enjoys masturbation, knows how. Show me.”
With a delightful whimper, Celia took hold of her knees again, spread them wide, and clearly did as the physician had asked, for he said, “Good girl,” and the speculum penetrated her still further, though not at anything like full length.
“You’ll see, Sir Henry,” said Dr. Brown, “that I may easily spare her maidenhead for you to rupture with your penis by simply entering at a shallow depth and then…”
The baronet watched the physician’s hand close on the handle of the device, and Celia gave a soft, startled cry.
“…easing the vagina open just a little ways so that I can get a reasonably good look inside. There. Yes. Have a look for yourself: you’ll see the hymen, ready for first coitus, and a very healthy color to the vagina as a whole. This girl is quite ready for intercourse and, if I may be so bold, clearly very much in need of it.”
A quiet sob came from Leticia, whether in jealousy or in sympathy or both. Celia merely breathed quickly, her little breasts rising and falling rapidly as the doctor held her open for Sir Henry to look inside. The baronet gazed with great interest at the pale ring that seemed to be what the doctor meant him to understand to be the girl’s maidenhead. The thought of opening her there, of thrusting through the tender barrier, got him monstrously hard.
“I see,” he said to confirm his observation. “Lovely.”
“And now the anus,” Dr. Brown said. That, too, drew a little wail from Leticia.
“Hush, darling,” Sir Henry admonished her. “The doctor must make certain your bottoms are ready for training, too.”
Celia whimpered, then, as the speculum began to push into the much narrower aperture of her backside.
“You know how to relax these muscles, too, Miss Deaver,” said the doctor. “You do it every day. Let the beak in now. Sir Henry, you will find this bottom quite tight on your penis at first, but I shall order you a set of plugs that will widen the girl just as much as you like. In the meantime, anal coitus will be uncomfortable for her, but certainly not harmful if you keep Miss Deaver’s anal sessions to no more than once a day. I expect that having Miss Stewart’s bottom to use as well will make that restriction bearable. And of course you will be able to enjoy this girl’s vagina and mouth just as you please.”
“Quite so,” Sir Henry replied, his prick swelling even further at the physician’s dry but extremely stimulating assessment of the modes of pleasure that would soon be available to him.
“Oh, please,” Leticia whispered. Her eyes had closed once again, and she worried charmingly at the inside of her cheek as she listened to the men discuss the masculine pleasures to be found in two such beautiful, naked female bodies.
“You must wait your turn, Miss Stewart,” said the doctor in a jovial voice, turning to give Sir Henry a tiny wink. “Your bottom shall have the speculum in a few moments, I assure you—after I’ve given it a little bath in carbolic acid.”
“Acid?” Leticia exclaimed, her brown eyes flying open again. Celia, too, had widened her blue gaze in alarm.
Dr. Brown chuckled. “Have no fear, Miss Stewart. That certainly isn’t what Sir Henry and I mean by the special measures we plan to take with regard to your young vulvas, before he deflowers you there.”
“B-but…” Leticia stammered. “You said… acid, didn’t you, Doctor?”
Her fear made her face crumple into a moue that Sir Henry found intensely arousing, but he also felt a tenderness toward her distress rise rather unexpectedly in his heart.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he said. “Carbolic acid is what the doctors have begun to use to make sure the germs Dr. Pasteur discovered don’t go where they shouldn’t.”
“Indeed,” Dr. Brown confirmed, “that is a very sensible explanation, Sir Henry. Don’t be afraid, Miss Stewart: I shall clean the speculum with carbolic acid, but the acid will be gone by the time I use the instrument to examine your vagina. Miss Deaver, you may lower your legs for the moment. I am finished with you.”
As he spoke he began to do just as he had said: he took a vial from his bag and applied a solution to a rag, with which he thoroughly cleansed the shiny speculum. Leticia watched as well as she could manage from her vantage point, raising her pretty face, wreathed in slightly disheveled brown hair that had grown a little damp from perspiration caused no doubt by the excitement of her brief spanking and the stimulation with which Sir Henry had followed it.
“As I was saying, Miss Stewart,” he continued, “your own anus will have the speculum inside it soon—never fear. Society has developed some absurd notions about anal coitus, but I think I can assure you that however you feel about it, the act will soon be an important part of your married life. Or do I speak falsely, Sir Henry?”
“Oh, no,” the baronet replied, trying to keep a broad smile from his lips so that Leticia would see just how seriously he took the sexual use of her anus. “You speak most accurately, Doctor. Both these girls will receive regular bottom-fucking, just as you prescribe in your estimable treatise.”
As Dr. Brown moved the chair from the foot of the bed to the head, where Leticia waited with her brown-haired cunt, the lovely girl asked in a horrified whisper, “Treatise?”
“Oh, indeed,” said the physician, wasting no time but pressing the beak of the speculum into the sweet pout of her young cunt. Leticia let out a forlorn sort of wail. “Pray relax your vagina, Miss Stewart. You have not given your vulva as much pleasure as Miss Deaver has, I know, but I am sure the memory is quite vivid. Moreover, I would have you reflect that these same muscles will be those Sir Henry trains to give his penis pleasure when he penetrates you in the act of matrimonial coitus.”
“Oh, no,” Leticia whispered, twisting her head slowly from side to side upon the mattress. “Oh, no. Please.”
“See how she lubricates?” the doctor said. “This one is more naturally erotically inclined even than the country girl. It happens that way sometimes, when the arousal is tamped down by society. Relax, now, Miss Stewart. There we are. Good girl. Yes, definitely intact. Have a look, Sir Henry, if you please.”
Leticia whimpered, and her head threshed more rapidly in quiet, ineffectual defiance. For a moment she let go of her spread knees, but Dr. Brown gave her left thigh a sharp slap, and with a cry of startled pain the girl reassumed
the posture demanded.
“Very nice,” Sir Henry commented, peering into the place he could not wait to thrust his hard cock. Leticia’s cunt was a darker shade of pink than Celia’s, and the redness inside the cavern of her vagina seemed to tell of a greater heat. “Both you girls have just the sort of cunt a man loves to fuck.”
“Indeed,” the physician contributed. “I cannot remember ever having seen a more attractive pair of vaginas and anuses. Sir Henry is a very fortunate man to have the right of the phallus over you.” He withdrew the device from Leticia’s cunt, and seemed to recall a train of thought he had left behind a few moments previous. “You asked about my treatise, Miss Stewart, I think.”
Leticia whimpered, then, for Dr. Brown had accompanied his words with the pressure of the speculum’s beak against the tiny brown button of her anus.
“Open this, please,” the doctor said brusquely. “Remember what I told Miss Deaver: you do this every day, and soon you will do it for Sir Henry’s penis as well, when he masters you.”
The baronet’s lovely, naked bride-to-be gave a cry of shame and unmistakable if unwilling arousal, and Sir Henry had to swallow hard at the lewd spectacle of the girl obeying Dr. Brown. Her sweet round bottom surged, her hips moved, and the shiny device entered deeply.
“That’s it, Miss Stewart,” said the doctor. “Good girl. Now I’ll just open you up a little.”
She wailed again, and repeated the movement of her backside upon the counterpane. Sir Henry watched her hands clutch spasmodically at her knees, and he noticed how very shiny her sweet cunt had grown with her need. Miss Leticia Stewart, disgracing herself utterly as the doctor spread her bottom open upon his speculum, constituted the most arousing sight the baronet had ever witnessed.
Chapter Eleven
Celia felt fainter at the sound of her mistress undergoing the awful examination than she had during her own ordeal with Dr. Brown’s speculum. The sensation of having her bottom opened by the strange metal thing lingered in Celia’s anus, and Miss Leticia’s noises as the physician did the same to her seemed to make the feeling come back in a ghostly, aching way.
The remembered feeling of shameful fullness spread from her bottom to the cunny Dr. Brown had also examined, just as he had just examined Miss Leticia’s. The phantom sensation seemed to want something… like a lewd demon whispering in her ear, it tried to make Celia’s hands, resting now on the thighs the doctor had allowed her to lower, move further up, just to touch, just to soothe a tiny bit. She kept her hands where they were, but her fingers trembled, gripped her soft skin, so near the golden-curled cunny that still lay exposed to Sir Henry’s view. The feeling gave life to the memory of the speculum, and the memory of the things the baronet had said about the life he intended to lead, and intended his bride and her ladies’ maid to lead. Celia whimpered softly in need for even the most shameful parts of that life to begin as soon as ever they might. Her mistress’ little noises and the terrible things the men said about the haughty girl’s cunny and bottom seemed to send liquid fire running through the maid’s veins.
“This bottom is a little fuller and looser than the other, Sir Henry,” said Dr. Brown. “Anal coitus will be more comfortable for Miss Stewart than for Miss Deaver, though you will still find the act extremely pleasurable for your penis, of course. You will have to decide whether you want to use one or more of the larger plugs to open her still further, but you will have ample opportunity to make that assessment on your honeymoon.”
Oh, how could they? Even her horrid uncle hadn’t spoken like that… yes, he had used Nell’s bottom rigorously, but something about the refinement with which Dr. Brown approached these matters seemed beastly and terribly stimulating at one and the same time. When Nell had told Celia about her uncle taking her anally for the first time over the whipping stool, Celia had felt an awful morbid fascination that she hadn’t understood: she hadn’t wanted the prick up her own bum, but somehow she had wanted to know what it felt like. Now, listening to the gentlemen discuss how precisely Sir Henry would train their bottoms for his cock that feeling returned so strongly that it nearly made Celia faint away upon the bed, making her heart jump but also making her seem to melt into a puddle of wanton need.
Miss Leticia seemed to respond in a similar way, for she gave a low moan at the doctor’s continued use of the speculum—a sound that seemed to convey wayward pleasure as well as discomfort and crushing shame. The thought that a man of Sir Henry’s stature ought to respect the modesty and innocence of his society bride came to Celia’s mind, and to her horror the baronet’s clear refusal to do anything of the sort made her fingertips move further up her thigh, and that made her give a tiny cry of need to match her mistress’ moan.
“As I was saying, Miss Stewart,” said the doctor, “I have published a rather well-known treatise, On the necessity of men’s exercising their natural rights in erotic matters, from which I would encourage Sir Henry to read to you from time to time, though I recommend that young ladies not be allowed to read the work as a whole.”
Miss Leticia gave a tiny, wailing cry.
“Try to relax, Miss Stewart,” Dr. Brown admonished. “I must make certain you are ready for your future husband—as indeed I outline in my treatise, for I wish both you girls to understand one thing as clearly as possible: from an enlightened, scientific standpoint a natural man’s penetration of a young woman’s anus with his erect penis represents not only his right but his duty. Only thus can he ensure that she possesses the sort of happiness that comes from knowing her place, in submission to his will.”
“Oh, no. Please,” Miss Leticia whispered.
“Pleading will do nothing to change the natural order instituted by divine providence,” the doctor said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sir Henry’s penis will soon teach you precisely the lesson you need in this young bottom, Miss Stewart.”
“Everything is very much in order, then?” Sir Henry asked the doctor.
“Oh, very much. I would advise that Miss Stewart now be made to shave her maid’s vulva and anal region, and also to perform cunnilingus while you observe. Miss Deaver should do the same for her mistress, and after that I believe the time for correction will have arrived.”
Celia held her eyes tightly closed as she felt her breath start to come in little pants. How could they? The wickedest thing, the thing she had made Miss Leticia do in this very bed the night before, from which Mrs. Graves had thrown back the veil… How could Sir Henry’s strange doctor advise that it… that it happen again. Her fingers moved again, clutched anew.
“Observe, Sir Henry,” said Dr. Brown, “how Miss Deaver finds it difficult to refrain from masturbation as she thinks of her mistress engaged in such a lewd act upon her own clitoris and vagina. That is owing I believe to her exposure soon after turning eighteen to the more natural life to be found upon the farm—not only the animals’ copulation, but also that of her uncle with her friend.”
Leticia gave a little cry, and Celia heard a whine come from her own throat at this latest revelation of the physician’s wisdom.
Sir Henry’s interest seemed piqued. “Once I have fucked her, and trained her to the cock, will Miss Stewart show a similar tendency, do you think, Doctor?” he asked.
“Given her clearly lubricious and lascivious nature, as seen in the way her vagina prepares itself for the penis, I have no doubt about it. You will need, I fear, to continue some at least of your special measures until both girls learn not to masturbate without permission.”
Special measures: there was that phrase again that made Celia’s heart jump even as it made her hands tremble all the more.
“Raise your knees again, now, Miss Deaver,” the doctor said. “Sir Henry, if you would place a towel under her bottom and a pillow upon the floor, upon which Miss Stewart may kneel, we will begin by acquainting your bride-to-be with the sexual anatomy shared alike by mistress and maid.”
Celia couldn’t look: she kept her eyes shut, wishing that she could some
how stop up her ears as she heard the pillow placed on the floor, could stop her body from sensing Miss Leticia rising from the bed.
“Kneel down, now, Miss Stewart,” said Dr. Brown, his voice turning suddenly avuncular. “And pray have a clearer look at Miss Deaver’s vulva than you could possibly have had in the dark last night. Sir Henry, would you kindly fetch the blunt-nosed shears and the safety razor from my bag, and also bring the basin over? As Miss Stewart bares Miss Deaver’s private parts, I shall teach them both about the region the razor uncovers.”
Wet, sloshing sounds. Metallic sounds. The doctor’s cool fingers again on poor Celia’s cunny.
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Stewart. Go ahead and begin to cut away those golden curls. That will make the area easy to shave, once we soap Miss Deaver thoroughly.”
Celia whimpered. Cool, smooth snips. A feeling of loss as the hair, not present for very long, really, was shorn away.
“There, Miss Stewart. You can already see how very intricate is the hood that hides Miss Deaver’s clitoris. No, keep cutting, if you please. You must trim even those hairs around the girl’s anus. A natural man such as Sir Henry prefers that the whole region be hairless. Very good.”
Sir Henry spoke then, to Celia’s dismay. “Give Celia a kiss, now, Leticia, before you soap her cunt and bottom.”
Celia tried to remember why she had felt so resentful toward her mistress, only a short while before, as she heard Miss Leticia give a little sob at the command—not a sob of defiance, but one of helpless need, for the thing she knew society would call so wicked. This proud girl had lied… she deserved to have her face pressed, as Sir Henry surely now pressed it, into the cunny of her maid, a girl from a Devon farm.