by Emily Tilton
Leticia laid back upon the bed, her face flushed and her back still arching a little, her hips still bucking slightly. Dr. Brown removed the iron at last, its heat gone. Sir Henry began to remove his clothing once again.
“Sir?” Celia asked from her station near the head of the bed. Her eyes had gone wide and her face red.
Leticia opened her own eyes at the sound of the maid’s voice. Sir Henry finished unbuttoning his shirt, and walked around to the head of the bed, his eyes fixed on hers. He put his hands gently behind her head as she blinked up at him, to unbuckle the bit and to take it from her mouth.
“Sir Henry… wh-what are you…?” she stammered.
“I told you what would happen next, Leticia. It is time.”
“B-but… I thought…”
“I suppose you thought I would fuck Celia first?” Sir Henry asked with a smile. “Indeed, no—though I did intend to do so. Your posture, however, and the freshness of your memory, both mental and bodily, of the training iron, makes it imperative that I take your maidenhead immediately. I wish this first fuck to serve as a lesson that lasts our whole blissful married life.”
He glanced over at Celia, who had taken hold of the bedpost in both hands as if to assist her in maintaining an upright position.
“You shall stay there, Celia, if you please,” said the baronet. “But turn about and place your hands upon your knees. I wish to have your sweet, punished bottom to look at while I fuck your mistress.”
Dr. Brown stepped back from his place between Leticia’s legs, and now began to busy himself cleaning the training iron with carbolic acid.
“Doctor,” Sir Henry said, “is this in fact an opportune time and method for the defloration of my bride?”
“Oh, yes, Sir Henry,” the physician said, glancing back with a detached air at the little scene from which Sir Henry did not think he could have taken his eyes even if someone had threatened him with a pistol for gazing one moment longer. “You may proceed to insert your penis just as you please and initiate her into the ways of coitus. As we discussed, Miss Stewart will experience vaginal pleasure, and may even climax, though in a manner quite different to the easy clitoral orgasm she would have produced with her fingers, or enjoyed with the assistance of Miss Deaver’s tongue.”
Sir Henry moved back around to the foot of the bed, his trousers, drawers, and shirt now upon the floor in an untidy heap. Celia’s charming little bottom confronted him, with the doctor’s well-measured welts gracing it in an orderly row, to the left of the even more heavenly sight that awaited him: Miss Leticia Stewart, securely fastened to her bed and ready for fucking, her shaven cunt open to his view between her spread thighs, her sweet anus wantonly visible just below like an invitation to forbidden delights, later on.
He had his cock in his hand, stroking it, merely enjoying the prospect before him. He saw Leticia’s eyes, across the lovely length of her body, her sweet belly, her young breasts with their brown nipples, widen at the sight of the cock she had taken in her mouth and must now take in her cunt like an obedient bride. True, according to the views of the strictest matrons of society, Sir Henry would take the girl’s maidenhead a few weeks too soon, but even such doyennes always proved themselves happy to wink at the fault when the bridegroom made good the girl’s waywardness in allowing herself to fall victim to temptation—especially if the bridegroom had the magic letters bart after his name. Should word reach the ears of the Duchess of Kent that Miss Leticia Stewart went to the altar a miss no longer, she would hardly even tut in the ear of the Marchioness of Hartletop concerning the matter.
Sir Henry found, though, that the apprehension in Leticia’s beautiful brown eyes made him more charitable than he had meant to be, when he had first begun to remove his clothing. He spoke without forethought but in the knowledge that the words came from his heart.
“Leticia, darling, do you wish me to fuck you?”
The lovely naked girl’s lips parted at the question, in clear astonishment. Her bosom heaved and she seemed—as Sir Henry supposed was only natural—at a loss for words.
“I… I do not… know, Sir Henry,” she finally said, a deep crease furrowing her brow as if at the effort of formulating even so simple a thought as this confession of ignorance as to her mental state.
Part of the baronet wished to question her further before he did anything else, but another part—by far the most powerful—demanded pleasurable satisfaction, in the sight of such erotic possibility. He stepped forward to take a position right between his girl’s lovely naked thighs, gazing down for a moment at the terrible mess of welts he had made upon her bottom with his cane, so much less regular than Dr. Brown’s work with regard to Celia’s backside. His own mind in a whirl, Sir Henry placed the sensate head of his prick against the sweet coral lips that made the entrance to what seemed to him now the land of all delights.
The time to test his ideas concerning the docking of his girls’ pleasures had arrived. From behind him, he heard Dr. Brown’s voice, the physician’s dispassionate rationality sounding at once dissonant and oddly exciting.
“The discomfort produced by the training iron in Miss Stewart clitoral region, as well as that from her whipping, may perhaps have a salutary effect on the pain you will cause when you rupture the hymen. By comparison, I hypothesize, the girl may hardly feel the usual mild pain caused by defloration. Miss Stewart, I hope you will let me know, once Sir Henry penetrates your vagina fully, whether your experience of first coitus confirms this theory.”
Leticia moaned as the baronet moved the head of his cock gently up and down. “Oh, no… please, Sir Henry, don’t…”
“Don’t do what, Leticia?” he asked softly and tenderly, though he also had never felt so rapacious in his life. He wanted to thrust in, to invade, to fuck, to claim so urgently that he thought his blood might literally boil. The velvet head of his prick felt the velvet lips of his charmer’s cunny enclosing him, and the beginnings of that supreme pleasure nearly stole his reason away. The heat between Leticia’s thighs seemed to radiate up so as to infuse his whole body.
“Don’t…”
Sir Henry mastered himself, stepped back.
“Oh, no!” Leticia cried. “Oh, please… Don’t… don’t stop!”
Joy filled his breast, and he moved forward again, his eyes flitting between his girl’s cunt and her maid’s punished bottom in a sort of optical mastery that made Sir Henry feel he walked on Cupid’s rosy clouds. He put the head of his manhood again at the entrance to paradise, and Leticia gave a happy cry. Gently he worked himself in, the pleasure making his own breath come faster and harsher even as Leticia panted with need for the consolation to be had from her bridegroom’s fucking after her well-earned punishment.
“Oh, Sir Henry… thank you… I… I am so…”
She had closed her eyes, but suddenly he needed to see them, to see her submission and the beginnings of her love for the man who would marry her.
“Look at me, Leticia,” he said, in a commanding tone that made her eyes fly open and go wide with alarm.
Sir Henry smiled back, though.
“I love you, darling,” he said softly, and then he moved his hips with decision, and his hard cock surged through her maidenhead. The ecstasy that invaded his whole frame stole the baronet’s power of thought for a moment, and he felt suddenly that he, and not Leticia, had been deprived of pleasure for so long that this act of erotic fulfillment brought him to some new plane of bodily delight of which he had never dreamt.
She, for her part, gave a little cry, and then seemed to prove Dr. Brown’s hypothesis in an instant, for the tiny movements of her body within the restraints the physician had placed upon her, pressing against him, riding his cock as he began to fuck, certainly seemed to show that the pain had receded between her legs. The pleasure he now allowed her, from his thrusting phallus inside her newly opened vagina, made her look up at him with wonder, and turned her sounds of discomfort into moans of delight.
; His feeling of mastery increased, adding to the purely physical pleasure that emanated from his cock, as he looked down into her eyes, moved his gaze to his bloodstained penis as it surged in and out of the shaved cunt of his intended bride, glanced over at the well-whipped backside of the maid who had discovered Leticia touching herself and earned them both such a day of discipline and delight. Sir Henry took firm hold of her spread thighs and fucked hard, loving the heat in his young lady’s bottom and the way the renewed smart of the cane seemed to become pleasure for her as her master rode her for the first time.
“Oh, I am… I… I shall…” she cried, her eyes closing again, and then she gave a wordless scream of ecstasy, her whole body arching, rising off the bed. Sir Henry had not meant to spend inside Leticia’s cunt, for he had no wish to start a family so soon, but he found that he could not help himself—nor did he wish to, for he meant to marry Leticia within the month, come what may. His hips jerked and his cock spurted, and he too gave a cry as Leticia’s pleasure seemed to go on and on.
“Oh, darling,” he said in a thick voice, stroking her thigh as the sensation left him little by little, holding himself deep inside her. “Oh, my sweet darling. You are a very good girl, are you not?”
“Am I?” Leticia asked in wonder, her eyes opening again. “I meant to say that I am a very, very naughty girl, and then…”
Sir Henry laughed. “Then what?”
“Then you fucked me,” she said, the color mounting into her cheeks. “And… well, can a girl be good and naughty at once?”
“Of course she can,” the baronet replied. “I believe even Dr. Brown would verify the fact.”
Chapter Nineteen
Celia, still bending over to display her punished bottom, gave a little whimper of need, of envious arousal. The sounds of Miss Leticia losing her maidenhead had stirred such a desire for a cock in her own cunny, despite—or perhaps even because of—the pain from the horrid training iron, that as she heard Sir Henry and his future bride spend, she had to shift from foot to foot to try to soothe the ache. It took all her will, and the memory of the hot metal against her poor little clitoris, to keep her from thrusting a hand between her thighs.
When Nell had told her of the way their uncle had thrust into her cunt, over the whipping stool, Celia had shuddered with fright, but even then she had known the need she felt now. Hearing Sir Henry fuck Miss Leticia so very close by, while Celia had to show herself for his pleasure in the sight of a naked, punished bottom, made the wanton fire, the craving to be made a woman rise higher than she had ever known it, even while touching herself for hours in her bed at night.
It had started when she had to watch Miss Leticia get the training iron just as Celia herself had. Though her clitoris stung terribly with the heat, the arousal inside, the need for something there that she had never known, caused the maid to feel very faint as she watched her mistress pay for her lying and her self-pleasure.
Now, when Miss Leticia had received a reward that had seemed from the sound of it so delightful, Celia felt she would die unless she, too, could have that reward. She gave another whimper, hoping Sir Henry might hear it and take pity on her—might deflower her as well.
Dr. Brown noticed Celia’s need, at any rate. “Poor Miss Deaver,” he said with an air of pleasantry, “requires something of the same training, when you are recovered, Sir Henry.”
The words made Celia blush to the roots of her hair, glad that neither man—nor indeed Miss Leticia—could see her crimson face. She bit her lip, and again she could not keep herself from shifting her weight, attempting desperately to soothe the ache that seemed only to burn hotter the more she tried to ease it.
“Is that right, Celia?” Sir Henry asked. “Do you need fucking like your mistress?”
“Oh, sir,” was all Celia could say.
“I fear it will be some minutes before Sir Henry’s penis is ready to deflower you, Miss Deaver,” said Dr. Brown. “Why do not you release Miss Stewart from the restraints, and assist her in washing up?” He addressed Sir Henry next. “I will take my departure in the meanwhile, having seen accomplished both the disciplinary measures and the principle act of erotic congress which I came to facilitate. I feel entirely comfortable leaving Miss Deaver’s defloration to you.”
“Oh, but Dr. Brown,” said Sir Henry. “I should like to have your assistance in these girls’ anal training. How may we arrange matters so that their bottoms receive the penis in a way fully suited to the sort of scheme we discussed?”
Celia remembered Nell whispering about having their uncle’s prick in her little bottom-hole. The thought made her feel faint. Nell had said that she didn’t like it as much as having the penis in her cunny.
“I am afraid my calendar is quite full for the next several weeks, Sir Henry,” the physician said doubtfully, “though it is true that there is advantage to be gained from closely regulating the introduction of the male member into the female anus.”
Celia heard him rummage for something in his bag, and then she heard the soft sound of pages flipping in what must be a little book containing the doctor’s appointments.
“Let me see… Yes, indeed. Sir Henry, I know it is a rather onerous request, but if you can enjoy yourself in your young ladies’ mouths and vaginas for a month, you may bring them to me on the thirtieth and we shall ensure that their anuses give you the pleasure to which a natural man is entitled—and moreover that thanks to this capital idea that you have already begun to put into practice, they will beg to have the penis in their bottoms.”
Miss Leticia made a tiny whining noise in her throat at that, and Celia felt sure that her mistress’ face had grown just as red as Celia’s felt.
“Hmm,” said Sir Henry. “I shall I think have married Miss Stewart by that time, and I do wish to have her bottom on our wedding night. Can you receive us no earlier?”
His voice moved in the room, and now Miss Leticia’s throat sounded a wailing note of forlorn protest. Celia felt her whole body flush as she understood it must mean that the baronet had withdrawn his cock from her mistress’ cunny, and the newly deflowered girl wanted her future husband’s manhood back inside her.
No, Miss Leticia, Celia thought with a shiver, I shall have that cock in my cunt first. You must share with your maid.
“Celia,” came Sir Henry’s voice again. “You may turn and do as Dr. Brown said, if you please. I shall dress and see him downstairs to the door. Your fucking will occur this evening in my bedchamber, I think. I mean to have you both sleep there with me from this day forward, so I may have you just as I like.”
“Oh, but…” cried Miss Leticia, but she did not go on, and when Celia turned she could see why: Dr. Brown was looking minutely at the little book that must hold his calendar and Sir Henry, still naked, stood in conference with him. Miss Leticia had no say, it would seem, in the arrangements concerning the fucking of her bottom upon her wedding night.
“No,” Dr. Brown finally said as Celia moved to the bed to begin unbuckling the straps that secured her mistress. “I fear it is impossible. Of course you may have the bottoms any time you wish, with my blessing, Sir Henry. I do not believe your pleasure will be much lessened by delaying the formal training you intend.”
Sir Henry shook his head. Celia turned her eyes to Miss Leticia, whose own gaze had fixed itself upon the back of her future husband, her cheeks scarlet red. The baronet was saying something to Dr. Brown in a lower tone that Celia couldn’t hear, but from the rise and fall of the words she felt sure that he had gone on talking in the same very businesslike, matter-of-fact manner about Miss Leticia’s anus, and Celia’s own, and the delight his prick could have inside them, were they trained precisely according to his specifications.
For an instant, as she gazed at the proud girl’s face, and took in the mixture of abject humiliation and helpless arousal upon the lofty, deeply creased brow and in the tight line of Miss Leticia’s lips, Celia felt boundless sympathy for her mistress. The spread of Miss Leti
cia’s legs, and the sight of her poor no-longer-virgin cunny, a little blood upon its lips now from Sir Henry’s vigorous defloration of his future bride, stirred the wanton, wayward sensations in Celia’s own aching loins, but that lascivious feeling only caused the maid to repent of her part in the two girls’ descent into Sir Henry’s clutches.
Celia put out her hand to unfasten her mistress’ right thigh from the strap that led from the leather cuff to the bedpost. Her fingers touched the tender flesh of Miss Leticia’s knee, and she couldn’t help stroking gently, to reassure Miss Leticia, at the same time putting a smile upon her lips and turning to look into the beautiful face whose expression held such confusion.
Miss Leticia turned to her, and for a moment Celia thought that her sympathy would be accepted: her mistress almost seemed to begin a smile of her own. Then Sir Henry’s words became audible for just a moment: he was saying to Dr. Brown, “Very well, I shall simply have the mouth and the cunt upon our wedding night. Their arses can wait until the thirtieth for the cock, if you think the implement you mentioned will assist in keeping them obedient.”
The beginnings of fellow feeling vanished from Miss Leticia’s face in an instant, and wrath appeared instead. Celia felt her own face crumple in grief, for she could well understand Miss Leticia’s emotion: to have her maid be party to this degradation must necessarily inflame her aristocratic pride. Celia thought she had never felt the difference between her station and her mistress’ so strongly: the maid had come from a farm where her uncle had enjoyed country pleasures in girls’ young bodies, whipping and fucking Nell just as he pleased, and so this idea of the natural man made some sense to Celia. Miss Leticia, however, had never anticipated that such a fate could befall her.