Her Shameful Training

by Emily Tilton

  As Doctor Brown delivered himself of this opinion, Joanna yielded completely to the pleasure her master forced upon her. Her body, racked with spasms of pleasure, shook and surged in John’s and Mark’s hands. Looking at his fellow valet, John could discern that Mark Shepard knew to hold the girl tight and to allow her to feel herself restrained, as a means of increasing the pleasure that coursed through her lovely frame.

  Lord Stephen regarded the doctor with knit brows as Joanna’s climax faded, leaving the girl exhausted on the mattress, her eyes closed in clear embarrassment at the lewd spectacle she had just made of herself. In his lordship’s gaze John saw the genius of Doctor Brown’s saving this declaration for the moment he had, when his unrivaled skill at making young ladies as erotically submissive as any man might imagine. Lord Stephen could not now deny that the Scotsman knew best, and he would have no choice but to accede to a pronouncement to which he might well have objected, earlier. The doctor had saved Joanna the interior conflict that sort of objection would inevitably have brought to her heart and mind.

  “May my man Mark Shepard make one of that experienced company?” his lordship asked simply. “If so, we will travel up to town with Miss Middleton with a good will. I must insist upon the condition, though, for Mr. Shepard has served me loyally upon that basis, and his assistance in mastering young ladies has been invaluable to me.”

  John looked over at Mark, whose lip had curled into a pleasant, if rather mischievous smile. The former fusilier found that he could not help liking Lord Stephen’s valet. Whatever the outcome of the trial to be made in London, he hoped to better his acquaintance with his fellow servant.

  “Certainly, my lord,” replied Doctor Brown. “Indeed, he may begin the proceedings in the society’s erotic theater, where I purpose to hold the observation. I imagine you have promised Mr. Shepard the first use of the girl after your own?”

  His lordship nodded, glancing over at his man to see whether Mark approved of his proceedings in this odd sort of negotiation.

  “Indeed,” Lord Stephen confirmed. “I look forward very much to seeing him handle his prick in the incomparable fashion I have witnessed on many previous occasions.”

  “Will Mr. Eliot be one of those to use Miss Joanna?” Mark himself asked unexpectedly. John felt his own smile break out at the question, and he winked at the other valet, across the lovely naked body between them.

  “To be sure,” said Doctor Brown. “I consider Mr. Eliot one of the ablest of my cocksmen. Now, sirs, turn Miss Middleton upon her front, if you please. His lordship will replace the trainer with his penis now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lord Stephen’s prick had never, he thought, been stiffer than when he began to tug the hard black training plug out of Joanna’s little bottom. Something in the challenge Doctor Brown had just issued to his mastery of the girl, it seemed to his lordship, had caused his penis to rise as if in answer. He intended to show the physician and his valet how a natural man fucked an adorable young bottom, one well marked with the welts he himself had made with twelve strokes of the chastising rattan.

  Joanna, on her knees with her face in the mattress and her hands alongside her knees, gave a tiny sob as she tried to expel the invader from her bottom.

  “I can’t,” she wailed. “I can’t, my lord... it’s too big!”

  “Hush, darling,” Lord Stephen murmured. “Be patient. You will push it out, and then you will take my cock. Lift your hands now and pull your bottom-cheeks apart. That will help.”

  “Indeed,” Doctor Brown said. “A fine recommendation, my lord.”

  Lord Stephen knew that the doctor, unlike so many men and women whom he encountered almost daily—Mrs. Mund for one salient example—had not intended to flatter him. When this Scottish philosopher of the boudoir issued a compliment, his lordship could tell, he meant it. The doctor had made a determination, had he not, of a kind extremely uncomplimentary to Lord Stephen, in announcing his opinion that they must all now remove to London?

  The physician, it appeared now to his lordship, had waited until he felt certain that Lord Stephen Gaithwait possessed enough honor and natural feeling that force need not be employed in bringing Joanna away from her abductor. When Doctor Brown had discerned that his lordship wished not to ruin the girl utterly but rather to keep her as a submissive fucking piece, he had brought matters in the tower room to a pass where Lord Stephen had no choice—for both his own happiness and that of Joanna—to accede to his medical opinion, and consent to travel up to town, there perhaps to part with the girl for whom he now felt such a great affection.

  Looking upon the bottom he would now fuck, rendered so very yielding by Doctor Brown’s ministrations, and hearing the little cries and whimpers that Joanna gave, of mingled alarm and need, his lordship pumped his cock and found he felt not the slightest resentment. Indeed, the prospect of lending Joanna not only to Mark, as he would have done very soon in any event, here in his tower room, but also to John Eliot and other cocksmen of the doctor’s choosing, made his lordship’s hardness leap a little in his hand. He saw in his mind’s eye the little theater in the London clubhouse, the lords and gentlemen—and perhaps even the ladies—gathered to behold the mutual fucking of Miss Joanna Middleton, fashionable slut and fucking piece currently of Lord Stephen Gaithwait.

  The doctor’s compliment to his lordship’s gesture of having Joanna spread her own bottom, which the girl now did with a moving cry of shame, made Lord Stephen more cognizant of his mastery in this erotic moment, rather than less. Miss Joanna Middleton sobbed at that feeling, of being made to offer herself so wantonly for the unnatural practice her master would now enforce upon her, and his lordship smiled as he pulled more firmly on the big, hard plug in the girl’s little bottom.

  With a sound that brought the crimson to Joanna’s cheeks once again, the device came free. Lord Stephen laid it next to the smaller trainer upon the mattress.

  “Continue to hold your bottom open, darling,” he commanded, stroking her back and assuming his favorite position, behind a girl with her cunt and anus at his command beneath him. “I am going to have a brief fuck in your sweet cunny before I open your bottom’s pretty flower on my cock.”

  His lordship did not wait for Doctor Brown’s approval, for as he rubbed the head of his penis in the soft furrow of Joanna’s cunt he felt how much she needed him in the slick arousal of the velvet folds and heard it in the whispered, “Oh, please,” she shared, it almost seemed, with the mattress alone.

  Lord Stephen pressed inside his lovely young lady and felt his manhood gripped in the pleasurable tightness of the nearly virginal sheath. So heavenly did Joanna’s cunt feel that his lordship began to fuck hard and fast from the moment he entered her.

  Joanna cried out as his lordship’s muscular hips pounded her punished bottom, and only then did Lord Stephen know why his irrepressible instinct had told him to fuck that masterful way from the beginning: he knew his young lady’s response to it would demonstrate her need for him, and he knew Doctor Brown must hear it. Yes, they would go up to London, and there the doctor would evaluate his lordship’s mastery. But even should the philosopher decide that for her own good Miss Joanna Middleton must become the lady-wife, the fucking piece, or even the whore of another man, Lord Stephen would know that she belonged with him—not merely as his plaything but as his own lady. His lordship needed neither Brown nor Anti-Brown to tell him that, for Joanna herself made it entirely plain in the way her body responded to his mastery.

  His lordship’s difficulty now lay in the sheer physical excitement building in his body as he fucked the girl and felt her move under him. She thrust her bottom back and moaned loud, shuddered, whined.

  “Did you spend, naughty girl?” Lord Stephen demanded in a voice that sounded thick in his ears. He held Joanna’s hips firmly, thrust hard, slowed his rhythm not at all.

  “Oh, please... I am... I’m sorry, my lord...” Her back arched and she clutched convulsively at her pret
ty bottom-cheeks, running her fingers along the marks of the cane as if the soreness there added to her wild pleasure.

  “You may spend as much as you like, when my cock is inside you, darling, from henceforth,” his lordship said, and felt her cunt clench around his driving penis so deliciously that it drew a grunt from his chest. Joanna cried out, and now he felt he knew exactly what her climaxes looked and sounded like: she had found another one, and it almost pushed Lord Stephen over the cliff of his own.

  He stopped his motions, though, holding himself deep inside, listening to his young lady’s sobs of pleasure. For a moment he became conscious of his audience: Doctor Brown and the two valets, watching this glorious act of carnal passion. He heard Mark say something under his breath to John Eliot, and John Eliot respond in the same low voice. The words could not be made out, but Mark’s tone of admiration and envy came across, as did the assent of the doctor’s servant.

  “Your cunt, darling,” he said softly to Joanna, “is a wonderful place to fuck, but I must have all of you now. Prepare yourself, if you please.”

  Lord Stephen drew his prick from Joanna’s vagina, noting with great satisfaction how her need had made the shaft glisten with the lewd preparation for her tightest place that she herself had bestowed on her master’s phallus. His lordship placed the fluted head of his sizable cock against the puckered hole that tightened and relaxed as Joanna clutched the two round cheeks that bore his marks. Leaning forward, he began to push in, as his girl gave a sob at being made to have him there, where until Mrs. Mund’s singular lesson in the way of a man with a maid, she had never imagined she might have to accept a lover’s will.

  The knob entered, a sight so moving that Lord Stephen felt he might spend in an instant. The tightness of her anus gripped his prick like a glove, the pleasure almost stealing his wits.

  “There, darling,” he breathed. “Such a good girl. Now take more.”

  Joanna cried out in passionate discomfort as the penis pressed into her young bottom, her little arsehole yielding to the masculine bulk. Part of his lordship wanted to be as gentle as he could in her most private place, while the urgency of his need demanded that he fuck the girl’s bottom hard and deep, taking his cock’s pleasure as he liked. The idea flitted into his mind that Doctor Brown might find this or that way of enjoying a feminine anus more worthy of the natural man, but Lord Stephen found he cared not a bit: he would fuck Miss Joanna Middleton’s pert eighteen-year-old bottom as he liked.

  His lordship took her hands from her backside, then, and held her wrists as he began to use the anus properly, his hips thrusting further and further with each inward stroke. Joanna gave a little whimpering cry at each thrust. The pleasure of her pretty, well-caned cheeks around Lord Stephen’s penis, and against his lap, quickly grew so great that he knew he must spend.

  “I shall put my seed in you, girl, in just a moment,” he growled. “Shall you like that?”

  Joanna shuddered, and seemed to struggle a little, but Lord Stephen sensed she did so to allow herself a greater release. “Oh... please... my lord...” she moaned, throwing her head back.

  “Shall you like it, Joanna?” his lordship asked again more sternly, his hips still moving steadily back and forth, his cock still surging in and out of her prim little arse.

  “Yes!” she cried, then, “Oh, no!” as if her shame at having affirmed that part of her liked having a penis in her bottom had grown too great, and finally, “Yes,” again, in a whisper.

  Lord Stephen thrust into her one final time, and gave his own shout as the seed spurted out of him in a spend as great as any he had ever known.

  “Very pretty, my lord,” commented the doctor behind him. “I have no doubt whatever now that you are a true specimen of the natural man.”

  His lordship did not turn to look at the physician. Perhaps, he thought, he should feel gratified by these words of praise, but now, with his prick beginning to soften in his wonderful young lady’s bottom, they seemed beside the point. He placed first Joanna’s left wrist, then her right, gently upon the bed, then helped her get upon her elbows.

  “My lord?” Joanna asked in a tiny voice. Lord Stephen knew precisely what she wanted, and what he wanted for her. He reached his right hand down under her hips, and began to caress her, his cock still gripped pleasurably in her anus, which contracted around him now as the girl gave a gasp, and then a cry of helpless pleasure.

  Doctor Brown spoke again. “I wish to be certain, my lord, that my hesitation in declaring Miss Middleton to be most benefited by remaining with you does not leave you under the impression that I have the slightest doubt of your intentions or your abilities—indeed, what you are now doing to her clitoris convinces me you are well qualified to train young ladies in the proper submission to the right of the phallus.”

  His lordship’s fingertips slipped deliciously around the tiny bud of Joanna’s pleasure, and she moaned softly, her hips riding his hand and the penis still half-erect in her sweet, no longer virginal, bottom.

  “Do you hear that, darling?” Lord Stephen murmured, bending down to say it in her ear. “Do you believe me well qualified to play with a naughty girl’s cunny?”

  With a cry of ecstasy and a great shudder, Joanna seemed to affirm, in her climax, precisely that. As she spent, Lord Stephen kept speaking to her, and his words seemed to make the girl’s pleasure go on and on.

  “Yes, I shall take you up to town, and there you shall be fucked upon a stage, by Mr. Mark Shepard, and Mr. John Eliot, and by as many other men as the good doctor shall choose. Shall you like that, Miss Middleton? To be fucked before me by so many hard pricks?”

  Joanna did not answer in words, but her bucking hips seemed to provide an ever greater yes, until at last Lord Stephen withdrew his cock from her lovely bottom and let her sink exhausted to the bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They blindfolded Joanna to lead her onto the stage of the little theater.

  “You shall not know who fucks you,” said a masculine voice she had never heard before, after the doctor had put the silken mask over her eyes, and led her from his chambers along a corridor and down a stairway, “until they have used you as shall best please them.”

  Back at Gaithwait Castle, five hours earlier, Lord Stephen had—as he had promised—allowed Joanna to don her chemise after he had fucked her bottom. Then, however, Mark Shepard had merely cast a cloak over her to carry her to the closed coach that then had brought them to London, Joanna sleeping fitfully most of the way with her head upon his lordship’s shoulder.

  In town, with the sounds of the city around her, Mark Shepard and John Eliot had bundled her out of the coach and into an elegant and imposing but otherwise unremarkable building. This edifice, it seemed, housed the wicked society now charged with disposing of Joanna. They had taken away the cloak. Then, in the foyer of the club, only yards from the London street, with several men standing about conversing with one another and taking little notice at first of the new arrivals, Doctor Brown had told her to remove the chemise.

  “Young ladies who come here for this sort of trial are not permitted clothing,” the doctor had said.

  Trembling, Joanna had begged that an exception might be made, had pleaded with Lord Stephen that he had allowed her the chemise, had promised she might wear it.

  “You must do as you are told, Joanna,” his lordship had said sternly, and then he had nodded to Mark. The valet had stooped and pulled the chemise up, as the conversation around her had ceased. Joanna had felt her cheeks flare, hot and red, as the men turned to look at her bare cunny. Desperate to have it over with, she had put her hands above her head, then, and Mark had taken the chemise all the way off.

  “Lord Stephen Gaithwait, is it?” a man behind her had said. “Didn’t know you were one of our number. She’s a pretty piece. Had that pert little arse yet? I see you’ve had to flog her.”

  “Your grace,” Lord Stephen had said. “I am rejoiced to see you. Yes—I fucked this sweet b
ottom for the first time only a few hours ago.” Joanna had closed her eyes and bit her lip as she felt his lordship’s hand stroke the marks his cane had made, wondering how she could feel so degraded and so valued at once.

  “Here for a trial, then, I gather,” the unknown duke had said. “I suppose I shall see you in the theater, and get a look for myself at how the girl behaves with the prick up her bum. I look forward to it! Doctor Brown, good day. Fine work as always. Fine work.”

  Now she sensed that she must be upon the stage. The Misses Pettigrew had delighted in treading the boards of the tiny stage in their village assembly hall, and Joanna had often stood behind a velvet curtain with them, ready to perform a scene from Shakespeare or even Sophocles. Despite the blindfold upon her eyes, she sensed around her naked form the space of the stage and felt the peculiar movement of the stage boards beneath her bare feet.

  She gave a little cry as she felt a masculine hand upon her bottom, urging her a few steps forward and to her right.

  “Doctor Brown?” she whispered. “My lord?”

  The unknown man’s voice said, “They are not here, now, slut. Reach your hand out to touch the bench that stands upon your right side.”

  Trembling, Joanna obeyed, and felt the padded leather top of what seemed a sturdy piece of furniture.

  “We shall bind you upon there in a few moments, for your fucking,” said the voice. “For now you will stand as you are, your right hand on the bench. Put your left hand behind your back. Good girl.”

  This expectant posture, together with the promise of what would happen next, made Joanna feel as if she had a part to play in a shameful drama. The tension in her left shoulder made her feel already restrained, while the smooth, cool leather beneath her right hand seemed to threaten her with unknown lewd acts even as it steadied her stance.