Van Der Mere leaned back and set his quill in the ink well. “The cane. Yes, you will have to be caned. You, whatever your name is, go into that closet and fetch the cane.”
Melanie looked uncertainly at her friend. Had the Judge forgotten her so soon?
“Go,” said Gretchen softly. “It will be all right.”
It was not the sort of cane with a curved handle that Melanie had expected to find. Rather, it was a straight, slender piece of bamboo that rested against the wall of the Judge’s closet. Loath to touch it, she grasped it between thumb and forefinger and carried it in front of her as though it were a snake.
“You will use it on her,” the Judge said when she brought it to him. “You will strike her briskly as she lies over the edge of the desk.”
Gretchen was already in place, having lifted her skirt, shed her underwear and laid her cheek down over the rich mahogany. “Please, sir, may I be hit only two times today?” she asked, eyelashes fluttering.
“Silence, bad little girl!” the Judge snapped. “You shall take one for each year in your age. How old are you?”
“I am eleven, sir.”
“Very well, eleven hits it is.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. Gretchen had just sentenced herself to nearly a dozen blows. And at Melanie’s hands, no less. “Your honor,” she gasped. “I cannot do this thing.”
The Judge looked at her scornfully. “You can and you will, or else Gretchen will strike you thrice that number herself. And I don’t need to tell you how much stronger she is than you.”
Gretchen twitched her buttocks, inviting Melanie’s correction. “We have to do it, Melanie. I was a bad girl. I need to be punished.”
Melanie sensed the urgency in her voice. Appeasing the Judge in this way must be part of her plan to win his support. Somehow in taking this beating, she would be able later on to win favors from him with regard to Lyla.
Her first hit was more of a tap.
“That does not count, young lady,” he informed her. “Unless an immediate welt is raised, your blows will not be scored.”
Melanie hit her friend harder. The stick impacted on the fleshy globes with a thick smack. Gretchen’s cry seemed real enough, though she was still increasing the pitch of her voice to fit her schoolgirl persona.
“Better,” the Judge grumbled. “But only passably so.”
This time, she wound back her arm and landed a formidable hit, inducing Gretchen to scream out in pain. Melanie beheld the instant success, the angry furrow, rising hot and red. She aimed lower the next time, at the base of the girl’s cheeks. Gretchen’s cry deepened, into a kind of deep groan that continued well after impact.
“Feel her,” demanded the Judge of Melanie. “Tell me if she is deriving pleasure.”
Melanie blinked. There could be only one place he meant her to check.
“Do it,” came Gretchen’s ghostly wail. “Don’t be a little fool, Melanie. Do what you’re told.”
Emboldened by her pique at the girl’s insult, Melanie jabbed a finger into the exposed opening. It sank quickly, lost in gushy wetness.
“She’s aroused, isn’t she?” asked Judge Van Der Mere, pushing himself back from his desk.
Melanie nodded as the Judge’s hands disappeared from view.
“Oh, sir, what are you doing?” Gretchen wanted to know.
“Never mind, girl. Take your punishment.”
Melanie struck her again, cutting crosswise over an existing mark.
“Oh, sir,” she moaned. “Please show me what you have in your pants. I need something, and I think you have it there for me.”
The Judge’s breathing quickened as he rubbed his cock through his trousers. “Bad, bad girl.”
“I am bad,” she agreed, her voice hissing like a snake’s, her sideways eyes looking straight at him from her place on his desk. “I’m so bad that I want a cock. I want your cock.”
“Hit her again,” commanded the Judge.
Melanie obliged.
“I beg for it, sir. Please sir, punish me with your cock. I’ve never had one in me, sir. I don’t even know what it feels like.”
“Wicked girl!” The Judge shoved himself further back from the desk. “Come over here girl, and let me take care of your insolent mouth.”
“Sir? I don’t understand,” feigned Gretchen as the Judge opened his pants and pulled a small but stiff member. “What am I to do?”
“You must get down on your knees, between my legs. You must put this inside your mouth and suck on it, like a lollipop,” he told her as though she really were an innocent schoolgirl.
Gretchen stood up and put her hand over her heart. “But, sir, that would be disgusting.”
“Come here girl, right this instant!”
Displaying theatrical reluctance, not to mention terror, Gretchen went to the Judge’s lap, putting herself in position on her knees to receive him.
“Now I’ll teach you, girl.” He took her hovering head and thrust it onto his erection. Gretchen made a precious little gurgling sound, a perfect simulation of innocent distress. The Judge’s eyes lit up as she took the length of him. Melanie wondered how long it had been since the man’s last erection. In all of their sessions together, she’d hardly ever noticed him being aroused, even when she was over his lap. She caught herself being jealous of Gretchen’s sexual prowess for a split second then forced the emotion from her mind. She was here to assist Gretchen in her ruse, nothing more.
“On all fours,” the Judge said now. “Let your sentence be completed. Melanie, attend to her beating once more.”
Gretchen shuffled herself into position, the basic mouth to genital contact remaining intact. From behind, Melanie lifted her skirt, beholding once more the punished, fiery buttocks. Where had she left off?
Gretchen absorbed more blows from the cane now even as she continued sucking. Five more times Melanie delivered Van Der Mere’s brand of justice, all the while feeling yearnings of her own. Would Van Der Mere have her punished like this as well – at Gretchen’s hand?
“Stop...that’s enough.” The Judge was puffing hard. He tugged at his collar, loosening the material about his scrawny neck.
“Sir, you don’t look so well; perhaps we should go now,” offered Melanie, remembering how the sheriff had seemed so anxious for them to get the man’s blood pressure up.
“Nonsense, girl!” He pushed Gretchen off of his cock. “I have not yet finished punishing you for your vile behavior with one another.”
Gretchen rose to her feet and pulled her dress over her head. She wore a corset underneath and nothing else. “Melanie did things to my titties,” she said, holding her lush breasts in her hands so that the flesh spilled over the top. “Naughty things.”
“Your breasts,” the Judge nodded to Gretchen, his eyes bugging out. “She touched them, then?”
Gretchen bent her head to lick the top of her own nipples. “Ooh, yes, sir. She touched them and made them hot all over.”
“Your nipples are erect, Gretchen. That is disgusting.”
Taking each of her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, she squeezed them hard. “Yes, sir,” she winced. “Very disgusting.”
“You, there, Martha,” he barked to Melanie, whose name he was either unable or unwilling to remember, “pinch Gretchen’s nipples. Gretchen, put your hands on top of your head and don’t move them.”
Melanie cast Gretchen a forlorn look, trying to convey how far it was from her own will to be doing anything like this. The nipples were large and spongy. Gretchen gritted her teeth as Melanie seized them.
“Use your nails,” the Judge instructed.
Gretchen threw back her head as Melanie applied the sharp tips of her fingernails. Operating as gingerly as possible, Melanie imposed on her the cruel discipline of the perverted Judge.
“Hold still,” complained Van Der Mere, this time to Melanie herself.
Melanie gasped as she felt him at her backside, the small but hard cock probing between the chee
ks of her buttocks. He intended to take her. He’d lifted her dress, revealing her open, vulnerable sex and now he intended to possess it.
“Sir, please, don’t,” Melanie pleaded.
The Judge seized her hips in a grip of steel and impaled her. “Naughty, naughty girl,” he breathed hotly into her ear. “I’ll teach you a lesson.”
Inadvertently, Melanie cinched Gretchen’s nipples a notch tighter. The girl cried out, her face contorted in pain and arousal. “Sir, please don’t spill your hot, sweet jism yet. Sir, please save it for me.”
The Judge was pumping at Melanie. “Insolent wench, don’t tell me what to do!”
Gretchen leaned forward and planted her lips on Melanie’s, making a veritable sandwich of the standing girl. “There,” she exclaimed, having delivered a hot, wet kiss that left Melanie on the brink of orgasm. “Now I showed you. We can be as naughty as we like.”
The Judge pulled himself free of Melanie’s opening. “We’ll see about that, you wicked little creature!”
“Oh, sir, what are you going to do?” cried Gretchen, putting her hands over her mouth. “Your cock is so hard, sir!”
“I’m going to teach you some respect, young lady,” the man huffed. “Get down at once, onto your hands and knees.”
Gretchen made a little gasping noise.
“Now!” commanded the Judge, the little vein at his temple fluxing visibly.
With a great show of reluctance, Gretchen complied, putting herself into position on the floor. The Judge retrieved the cane, intending to strike her with it. “You, come here at once,” he called to Melanie. “And take off your clothes.”
Melanie crossed her arms over her chest, defensively. “Sir, please reconsider what you’re doing. I think it’s gone too far, and it isn’t good for you, or us, either.”
The Judge laid a savage blow against the backside of poor Gretchen, helplessly exposed on palms and knees. “Do not talk back to me like that, you little imp!” he threatened Melanie. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Melanie,” came Gretchen’s voice, tight with emotion. “Remember what I said? About playing along?”
The game, yes—the one that would wrap the Judge round Gretchen’s little finger.
Melanie steeled herself with a sigh and took off her dress and slip. Lacking underwear, she was now reduced to stockings. As she bent to remove them, the Judge called out impatiently. “That’s good enough. On your hands and knees, now. Yes, that’s it, directly behind the other little trollop. Quickly now!”
Melanie was not sure what the Judge wanted. Poking her with the cane, he maneuvered her until her face was directly behind Gretchen’s buttocks.
“Show me now what it is you naughty girls do to one another. Show me the evidence.”
Gretchen’s moist sex lips beckoned blatantly from her quartered position. Melanie had never imagined such a thing between females and yet she was intrigued. It was a sin, surely, but if the Judge was ordering her to do it, what harm was there?
“Judge, oh no,” she shook her head, feeling the need to voice her own fading morality. “You can’t make me—”
He delivered a large smack with the cane across Melanie’s exposed buttocks. The sting of it brought tears to Melanie’s eyes. This was all so humiliating, so degrading. How dare a man command her in this way, especially one old enough to be her grandfather.
“Put your mouth where it belongs, you little tramp, or I will thrash you like the devil!” the Judge threatened.
Melanie dabbed her tongue, the hot helpless feeling pervading her, tensing her body with pleasure seeking agony. Gretchen moaned at the touch of the girl’s mouth. At once she began to pour forth her fluids onto and in Melanie’s mouth. She sucked at the sweetness, a pungent bittersweetness.
“You will bring her to climax,” the Judge commanded.
Melanie’s shoulders slumped with defeat. She could never accomplish such a task.
“Faster,” said Van Der Mere, swinging the cane across her back.
“Nnn,” cried Melanie, the pain serving to focus her and also to arouse her all the more.
“You, too,” the Judge chided Gretch, “assist her, place your bottom against her face.”
Gretchen tremored as the Judge brought the cane to bear on her backside, just beside Melanie’s head. He struck at Melanie next, then back again to Gretchen. It was a terrible, cruel rhythm, the man lording it over the two of them. Melanie did not know which was worse – to be pleasured as she was being beaten, or burning with unmet sexual need while she serviced another. Desperately, Melanie tried to speed the process. She’d no idea what it took to climax a girl and she was sure her technique was terrible, and yet she had no choice but to keep going.
“Wicked, wicked little creatures,” hissed the Judge. “The Reverend Fortesque must hear about this and soon.”
Melanie shivered imagining another session with the lurid minister and his wife. She scarcely imagined she could survive it. They’d make her beg, and say evil things, they’d make her scream like an animal. A naked beast, a sex crazed demoness.
“Wicked, wicked little creatures!” The Judge’s scorn was meted with the cane, an instrument she now both feared and loathed.
“Oh, sir, it’s happening!” Gretchen declared. “I’m about to climax!”
“Not yet!” The Judge reached down and seized Melanie by her hair, yanking back painfully to prevent her licking the other any longer. “There must be more punishment first. Turn around girl, attend to me.”
Melanie went to him and was at once treated to a mouthful of hard, hot manhood. At once, she went to work. Perhaps if she could finish the man off quickly, he would lose interest in the entire miserable game.
“Wicked little creature,” he grunted, shuffling forward so that Melanie’s feet brushed against those of Gretchen behind her. The way she was positioned now, Melanie was tight between the two of them. She was uncertain as to his intention, but as he wielded the cane, she understood. He desired to abuse her mouth while beating Gretchen; sexually frustrated, bruised and whimpering Gretchen.
“I’ll teach you,” the Judge vowed.
As he raised his arm to strike Gretchen’s back, he made a terrible loud grunting noise, kind of a growl. At the same time, his penis exploded, shooting out hot liquid till Melanie’s mouth was flooded. The Judge’s arm came down now, smacking the cane on Gretchen’s back. Just as she let out a scream, the Judge made a sick little noise. His limbs went stiff and he clutched at his heart.
Melanie’s mouth was freed as the Judge fell straight backward, toppling onto the floor. He was still holding the cane, the other hand at his chest. Melanie swallowed the remains of him then said, “Oh my God, Gretchen. Something’s happened to the Judge!”
Gretchen scrambled round to his head, cradling it in her lap. After a few moments of calling his name and massaging his forehead, she said, “I think he’s dead, Melanie.”
“That can’t be,” Melanie declared, compulsively untying his shoes. “We just need to increase his circulation.”
Gretchen laid his head down and went to her friend. “No, Melanie, it’s not his circulation. He’s dead. Feel him, there’s no pulse.”
Melanie grabbed his wrist and squeezed. Nothing. “Judge Van Der Mere,” she cried, “can you hear me?” She shook him for several minutes more, then she began to cry, issuing large sobs as she put her head on his chest. “We’ve killed him,” she said, her voice a fierce whisper. “We’ve killed him.”
Gretchen crouched beside her and was silent.
“We’ve killed him,” repeated Melanie a third time, throwing herself into Gretchen’s arms. “We really did.”
“No, Melanie, we didn’t. He died of a heart attack. It was an accident.”
“I’ll be the Judge of that,” said a voice.
The girls looked up to see Sheriff Harkin framed in the doorway. His gun was drawn and aimed squarely at the pair of them. “Step back,” he ordered. “And put your hands in t
he air.”
“Sheriff, this isn’t what it looks like,” Melanie explained, though she had no idea what it did look like.
“Melanie, hush,” cautioned Gretchen, her voice grim as she rose to her feet. “The less you say now the better.”
The sheriff laughed. “Wise girl, Gretch. I guess you know your place in the community after all.”
The stocking clad girls stood side by side, their arms overhead.
“What have we got here?” drawled Deputy Homer, newly arrived, rifle in hand.
“Looks like a murder to me. Run and fetch the doc—he should be out at the Conner ranch by now lancing the old woman’s boils.”
The deputy looked at the Judge’s body and shrugged. “Whatever you say, boss.”
As soon as the deputy was gone, Harkin holstered his gun and opened his pants. “Reckon we got a little time to kill. Which one of you wants to be first?” he asked the two girls.
Gretchen stepped forward.
“Not you,” he shook his head. “The other one.”
Melanie went to him, scarcely aware of the movements of her own body. As she knelt for him and took him deep in her mouth she was only vaguely aware of the things he was saying. Something about a new order in town, and about things were changing for her and Gretchen in a big way. Just before he was to come he pulled out so that he could spurt himself on her face. It was a hot, full load, and she took it humiliatingly on her cheeks, lips and nose, even her eyelashes.
“Leave it,” he barked when he’d finished.
Melanie closed her eyes, the sticky fluid already adhering, purveying her skin.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered, brandishing a pair of steel manacles.
Melanie turned to see Gretchen standing there, nude and at attention. Her face was white, full of worry. The steel bit into her wrists and Melanie was filled with momentary panic. Things were going to be different now, the sheriff had said. She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew it could only mean something terrible was in store for them both. Something that would make Lyla’s tortures look like child’s play.
“Gretchen, take Melanie’s stockings off her,” ordered Harkin. “And her shoes.”
Mastering Melanie Page 12