'Oh, that must have been horribly tantalizing,' observed Miss Martin. Then she said: 'I wonder you don't get married again.'
'Perhaps I will some day or other,' replied Frances, laughing. Then she stood up, saying: 'I feel inclined to dance. Let us have a waltz. You shall be the "gentleman" this time, and you must hug me tightly.'
Miss Martin laughed, and getting off the sofa, put her arm round her 'partner's' waist in a 'manly' fashion; then they began to revolve briskly to a waltz tune hummed by Frances. They were both good dancers; and it was a most charming spectacle to see the two shapely naked women waltzing gracefully round and round the room; their beautiful bubbies undulating, their broad hips swaying voluptuously, and the movements of their legs.
At last they sat down, flushed and panting; I thought that all the fun was over: but Frances had not finished her little game. As soon as she had recovered her breath, she put her hand on Miss Martin's bottom, and stroked it; saying in a tone of admiration:
'What a splendid bottom you have got; so plump and so firm. I thought I had a big bottom, but yours is far bigger in every way.' The governess smiled, and looked very much pleased. 'Yes. I have got a big bottom,' she remarked complacently. 'My husband used to admire it very much.'
'Well, it is worthy of admiration,' said Frances. 'I believe men like women to have large bottoms. But, talking of bottoms, puts me in mind of whipping. I suppose, during the years you have been a governess, you have birched a good many bottoms.'
'Yes, many a one. I have birched girls up to seventeen years of age.'
Frances laughed, then she asked, in the most innocent way: 'Were you ever birched when you were a girl?'
'Yes, very often.'
'Were you really,' said Frances, as if she were much astonished. 'At a boarding-school, I suppose?'
'I never was at boarding-school. I got all my birchings at home. I will tell you. My mother died when I was ten years old, and I was brought up, and educated entirely by my father. He was a stern, hard man; and whenever I failed in my lessons, or committed an offence, he used to lay me across a chair, bare my bottom, and birch me severely. He kept me under discipline until I was seventeen years of age.
'But I was a strong girl, and could take an ordinary birching with considerable fortitude. Of course, I used to cry and writhe, but I never screamed unless he birched me hard enough to draw blood. He used to whip me with a full-sized birch rod; a very different thing to the little toy you use when you whip the children.'
'Well,' said Frances, smiling, 'toy as it is, I don't think you could bear a dozen smart cuts of it, without crying out.'
'Oh, I'm sure I could,' said Miss Martin, with a little laugh.
'I'll bet you a dozen pairs of gloves to one pair, that you don't take a dozen cuts in perfect silence,' said Frances, laughing.
'I'll take the bet. I want some gloves, and I am sure to win them. Get out the toy,' said the governess, also laughing.
Frances went to the cabinet for the rod, and as she passed close to the curtains she turned towards them and smiled mischievously. The artful creature, knowing how fond I was of seeing a woman's bottom whipped, had regularly humbugged the governess into allowing herself to be birched.
Flourishing the rod in the air, she said: 'Now, Miss Martin, lie down. You may wriggle, and kick your legs about as much as you like while I am whipping you; but if you utter the least sound, you will lose the bet.'
The governess stretched herself at full length upon the sofa, saying laughingly: 'All right, Mrs Markham! You can begin. You won't have much trouble in preparing me for punishment. But you must whip me fairly. Don't strike always on one place; and don't strike me on the thighs.'
As the end of the sofa was towards the curtains, I had a splendid, full-length view of Miss Martin's plump, naked figure, as she lay prone; the swelling hemispheres of her great bottom standing out in high relief, while the cream-like tint of her skin was well shown off by the dark olive-green colour of the velvet on which she was lying.
Frances placed herself on the left side of the sofa, so that I saw her naked figure in profile, and very lovely it looked. Her beautiful white skin glistening; her delicious, round, pink-tipped titties rising and falling quickly, a smile curving her ripe red lips, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her blue eyes sparkling with excitement at the idea of using the rod. She was fond of whipping.
She began to birch and, though the rod was but a toy, the birching was no child's play. Swinging the switch high above her head for each stroke, she laid on the cuts slowly, with graceful sweeps of her round white arm, and with such force, that her bubbies shook, and the muscles of her bottom quivered each time she struck the blow.
The little, beribboned birch rod hissed as it swept through the air, and it made a sharp swishing noise as it fell on the firm flesh of Miss Martin's big bottom. The creamy skin reddened rapidly, and small weals rose in all directions on the broad, plump cheeks. She had winced sharply on receiving the first cut; the pain evidently being greater than she had expected: then she stiffened herself, clenched her fingers in the palms of her hands, buried her face in the sofa cushion, and lay perfectly still. But her flesh quivered involuntarily at each stinging cut of the little rod.
She certainly showed a great fortitude. Not a sigh, or a moan escaped her lips, though the birching was a severe one; and when the twelve cuts had been inflicted, her bottom was scarlet and also considerably wealed. But she had won the dozen pairs of gloves. I thought they had cost her dear.
Frances threw down the rod, and Miss Martin got off the sofa, heaved a deep sigh of relief, and stood with both her hands pressed to her bottom. Her face was red, her lips were trembling a little, and her eyes were moist. Smiling faintly, she said in rather a shaky voice: 'I have won the bet. But I must say that the "toy" stung in a way that disagreeably surprised me. I should never have believed that it could cause such pain. It was as much as I could do to take the twelve cuts in silence.' Then twisting her head round, and looking over her shoulder, she said: 'My bottom is very much marked, and it is still smarting dreadfully.'
Frances said, in a tone of sympathy: 'Oh, you poor dear! I did not think you could have borne the birching. I fully expected you would have told me to stop, after I had given you two or three cuts. You have got pluck. I am sure I could not have taken one cut without screaming.'
All this was to flatter her victim. She went on: 'You had better go to your bedroom, and bathe your bottom with cold water. I will put away the camera, and see to the plates.'
Poor Miss Martin, with a rueful face, rubbed her bottom, and said: 'I shan't be able to sit down comfortably for hours. I remember that I used to rub vaseline on my bottom to allay the smarting after a flogging. I will apply some now.'
Then she put on her chemise and wrapper; thrust her feet into her slippers and left the room.
Frances, still perfectly naked, threw herself down upon the sofa and burst out laughing; and I came out of the alcove, in a state of intense excitement. The whole spectacle had been most lascivious, from the moment the two ladies had stripped themselves naked, up to the moment the governess had left the room. My cock had been in full erection the whole time, and now it was positively aching from the prolonged strain; so I at once threw myself upon the lovely naked woman, and clasping her lithe, yielding body in my arms, I poked her with such vigour that I astonished both her and myself.
When she had put on her scanty attire, she sat down beside me on the sofa, and after complimenting me on the vigour I had shown; she said: 'I hope you enjoyed the entertainment. I think it was quite a variety show.'
'It was splendid,' I replied, giving her a hearty kiss. 'I never enjoyed anything more in my life. You are a very clever woman. The way you worked up Miss Martin was a triumph of art.'
Frances laughed merrily. 'Oh, she is a perfect innocent! She has learnt more this afternoon, than she ever learnt in the whole of her previous life. Now, tell me truly what you think of her figure.'
&nbs
p; 'She is a very well-made woman, but her figure is not so good as yours,' I replied; and I meant what I said.
Frances was very much pleased, and she kissed me. Then she observed: 'Well anyhow, she has got a bigger bottom than I have. I really do admire it; and I should often like to birch it, as I did just now.'
'I daresay you would,' I said, laughingly. 'But I am very sure you will never be able to get her to let you birch her again. You flogged her right well, and she must be rather sore at this moment.'
'I did lay on smartly,' said Frances smiling, 'and I am afraid I shall never again have the pleasure of touching her big bottom with the rod. But now you had better go away. I don't want her to find out that you have been in the house at all. Come back at seven o'clock and dine with us; but be careful not to drop a hint about what you have seen.'
I accepted the invitation to dinner; then I gave Frances a kiss, and slipped quietly out of the house, while Miss Martin was still in her room - putting vaseline on her bottom - I suppose. It was then four o'clock, so I took a stroll in Regent Street, and 'drew' the Burlington Arcade. Then I went to my chambers and dressed for dinner, and at seven o'clock, I was again in Frances' drawing-room, waiting for the ladies to make their appearance. In about five minutes they came into the room with their arms round each other's waists; both were prettily dressed, Frances looking handsome, and Miss Martin looking quite pretty. She shook hands with me in her cordial way; her face showed no trace of disturbance, her eyes were bright, and her manner was as calm and composed, as if nothing out of the common had occurred during the afternoon. The birching had not affected her spirits; though no doubt her bottom was still tender.
We had a very nice dinner, and when it was over we spent a pleasant evening in the drawing-room, conversing on the various topics of the day. Miss Martin talked well, and sensibly, and, as I chatted with her, I often caught Frances glancing at me with such a humorous twinkle in her eyes that I had some difficulty in keeping my countenance. How horrified the demure-looking lady would have been, had she known that I had seen her, stark-naked, being birched a few hours previously!
Eveline
The Lady Eveline, with her gargantuan appetite for sensual pleasures and erotic intrigue, is surely the most Machiavellian of Victorian erotic heroines. Her desires are as capacious as any cock-sure male and her seductive charms are exercised with the same ruthless disregard for others' needs. For Eveline, as for the most despotic Casanova, sex is power.
In this excerpt, Eveline revels in the manipulation of her household and immediate family. Her cousin from the country has been inconveniently thrust under Eveline's wing with the request to equip the girl with a new wardrobe. As they take to the clothes shops of the West End, Eveline sees the opportunity for a little sport while completing naive young Emma's essential education. One thing is sure, Emma will return to the country with more to remember than a simple shopping trip...
Uncle Edward and his family lived in Herefordshire. They were not often to be found in London except during the Season. Entering the drawing room I found him, bluff and bucolic as ever, drinking port. My cousin Emma, still bonneted, sat beside him as if ill at ease.
Emma was then eighteen, a girl of slightly round countenance whom I had always found too quiet and secretive for my tastes. I adhere to secrets myself but Emma's, I felt sure, were of an exceedingly dull or sly type.
Immediately upon entering I became aware of the flimsiness of my gown and the fact that I wore nothing beneath save my stockings. A parting of the folds permitted my uncle to feast his eyes for a moment upon the legs that revealed themselves even to my thighs. Emma blushed. I frowned at her and sat down quickly, my uncle rising and falling again like a puppet.
'Father is exhausted or he would have come down.'
'My dear Eveline, yes. I feared much to disturb you at this hour. A thousand apologies. I was minded to bring Emma to town for dress fittings. The hotels it appears are full. We have wandered around many, have we not, Emma?'
She nodded. Her eyes were slightly small but her nose straight and pleasing. She had a little mouth almost forming a perfect Cupid's bow.
'Have you not drunk, Emma?'
'A glass of water only, cousin.'
I hated being termed that. I felt sure that she knew it. It was the normal parlance but belonged to more common folk.
'We shall accommodate you most gladly, uncle. Have you eaten?'
They had dined well, it appeared. My curiosity was further aroused in that my aunt at last had not accompanied them. I asked if she were well. In order, as it seemed, to address my questions my uncle moved his chair around the table a little. To his undoubted dismay I kept the folds of my gown together.
My aunt, it appeared, was indisposed but was anxious that upon attaining her eighteenth birthday, as she just had, Emma should not be rivalled in her attire by other young ladies of the district. They were to have called upon us on the morrow in any event. It was a considerable annoyance. I had seen my uncle but a few times since my return from France. He did not please me entirely, though he was obviously a man of some vigour. His lecherousness was obvious in his frequent glances at my legs and at the rather low nature of the neckline of my gown.
Since they had feasted and wined, I had no need to detain them downstairs. Their rooms were quickly accommodated. I bid both the best of nights and kissed both dutifully. My uncle's lips fell upon my own, though I had offered him my cheek.
In the morning I dressed myself a trifle more sedately than is my wont. I intended Emma not to rival me in her gowns. Neither did I wish to display more than I needed to my uncle. By mid-morning Papa had engaged him at his club. A boredom settled upon me. Emma was evidently taking her time in visiting the dress establishments.
An idea came to me that was as perverse as it was enjoyable.
I would take her, I said, to the shop of M. Dalmaine, my own bootmaker. I needed in any event some new boots for myself.
Emma assented with far less enthusiasm than I would have displayed. I was minded to shake her. Instead I lent her the softest of my tones and the sweetest of my cousinly smiles. The sooner she was outfitted the sooner we would be rid of them.
M. Dalmaine was overjoyed to make my acquaintance again - as well he might be. He led us into his atelier behind the shop and a little above it. I could sense a certain frustration in him as he produced his latest fashions from a glass case. I surmised that the presence of Emma had put him out of countenance. On my previous visit I had 'driven him to the mad' as he expressed it. His big member had foamed in my grotto in tribute.
Now, however, I saw the cause of his unease. The door which led further into the house opened to admit a lady of some thirty-five and of considerable attractions. It was his wife, Monique. She had returned from a stay in France. Greeting us both, her eyes stayed for a moment in mine.
'I have something of special interest to show you, Mademoiselle. If you care to accompany me while your pretty friend is being attended to?'
'Of course.'
I left Emma gazing after me, perched on a chair while M. Dalmaine knelt before her to measure her feet. How much else he would try to measure I wondered with amusement as I was led within a small but comfortable sitting-room.
'Something special - oui, Mademoiselle. I bring from Paris. Soon we copy for special young ladies here.'
I gazed down at what she presented to me from a large box. I was flattered, after all, to be considered 'special'. The boots were as none I had ever seen before. They were of a length that would encompass not only my calves and knees but at least half my thighs as well.
'They must be extremely uncomfortable, surely?'
'They are for private occasions only. One soon becomes used to them. See! I have a pair on myself.'
Madame Dalmaine laid the boots down and stepped back. Smiling with a slight air of shyness she raised her skirts. Her calves were well-turned, her thighs smooth and of a perfect whiteness, showing not a blemish. The soft leather b
oots hugged her pretty limbs to perfection and were held with thin leather ties, which emerged from loopholes, midway up her thighs.
The vision was entrancing. I had not believed one could walk in them. In this I was wrong. The leather was so thin and supple that movement was not impeded. Madame walked back and forth, still holding her skirts up, and then approached me.
'Feel how soft they are, Mademoiselle.'
I placed my hand upon her nearest leg, feeling with my fingertips how the warmth of her flesh came through the leather. A certain silence obtained as I moved my hand upwards. I encountered no resistance.
'Yes, very soft, Madame Dalmaine.'
'Yes? You think so?'
My fingers scouted around the rim of the boot. The surface above was silky. Her skirts raised themselves higher. Beneath the line of my vision, without obviously lowering my glance, I could perceive a fine dark bush of curls at the junction of her thighs.
'You would like, Mademoiselle?'
'You may measure me.'
I made my voice slightly curt. I did not intend to entertain, but to be entertained. Madame Dalmaine nodded, smiled, and knelt before me as I sat. Her hands lifted my skirts delicately. A murmur of appreciation broke from her lips. My patterned white silk stockings attracted her gaze as did the paleness of my thighs above.
I parted my legs and waited. A small sigh perhaps escaped me.
'Your husband has my measurements, Madame.'
'Have you his, Mademoiselle?'
Before I could think to reply I felt both my calves lifted. In a second my knees dangled over her shoulders.
'Ah, what perfection, Mademoiselle! What delicious curls, what pretty pouting lips! Donnes-le-moi!'
I had never felt another woman's tongue between my thighs before. The sensation was unexpected and rapturous. The tip of her tongue licked upwards, first parting the lips which the journey in the carriage had already made moist. Seeking further it sought my bud. I husked a cry and tightened my knees over her shoulders. My clitoris erected itself immediately. Bending forward as best I could I seized her head and drew her lips in full contact with the lips of my cunny.
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