SMARTS!

by Jay Lawrence

  "Don't fret, sweet child. I will have Dr. Frater look in at the vicarage to ensure the old chap is made comfortable for the night. Nothing that a spoonful of morphia won't right. I'm afraid this is quite a regular occurrence."

  "But it was when you uncovered my face... I do resemble your first wife, don't I? The old man thought he had seen a ghost..."

  "Frederica."

  Lord Urquhart's voice hardened to a stern warning and, again, he placed the tip of one leather-gloved finger upon the young woman's nose. Beneath the white fur cape, the wedding gown appeared to tighten about her breasts, as if some phantom maid were pulling on the lacing of the narrow bodice.

  Heavens, I feel as if my bosom is about to escape from the dress! Overflowing like a wet nurse, like bountiful Chastity.

  "You will behave, young lady, or I shall take my leather strap to you the moment we reach the house. Do you understand?"

  "Oh!"

  Aghast, Frederica stared up at her husband, unable to find warmth in his craggy visage. His mood had changed as swiftly as the weather and he fixed her with a steely gaze. Tears of confusion filled her eyes and she looked down at her shoes, counting the rain spots on the ivory silk.

  "Ah, do not imagine I shall spare the rod, lovely Frederica. You have become my property, a mere chattel, and I shall do with you as I wish. When we reach the Hall, we shall begin your very first lesson, which concerns obedience. For the moment, there will be no more foolishness about ghosts. Answer me. Yes, sir."

  Biting her lower lip, the young woman murmured in assent, unable to look at her strict instructor. Slowly, Lord Urquhart slid one gloved hand between the ermine cape and the straining bodice of the wedding gown, briefly cupping Frederica's breasts before wresting one from its silken nest and exposing her creamy flesh to the freezing air.

  "Please don't!"

  "When I request an answer, madam, I expect the response to be uttered in audible tones."

  The trap completed the awkward descent to Urquhart Hall, the pony stumbling on skittering stones, its shaggy fetlocks caked with thick mud from the sudden storm.

  "You will enter your home with naked breasts and buttocks, Lady Urquhart. Remember this one, most important word. Obedience."

  "I don't understand, sir..."

  Swiftly, Lord Urquhart jumped down from the halted vehicle, slapping the silent driver on the back and crying:

  "Come on, Lepage! Time to carry my blushing bride across the threshold, what?"

  Frightened, Frederica shrank back against the cold seat of the trap, as the strange, black-cloaked figure slowly climbed down from her perch above the stamping pony.

  "Bring the whip."

  "Oh, no! Please, sir! I beg you..."

  "Oh, the begging will come later, my precious love. You will expose your breasts and your bottom for me, as if you were a common harlot, seeking to entice a fine gentleman to your squalid lair."

  "I cannot, my Lord. William, please..."

  "You will call me sir at all times without exception. On your feet."

  Shaking violently, Frederica stood up in the trap, suddenly fearful that the restless pony might bolt and carry her away into the gathering gloom. Lord Urquhart took the driver's whip and approached the vehicle, smiling in a sadistic fashion.

  "It's all right, my sweet. Chancery shan't dash off with a helpless maiden cowering on the back seat. Now, remove your cape and take out the other tit. Carefully – don't rip the dress. Excellent!"

  Blushing scarlet with shame, the young woman did as she was bidden, the howling wind whipping the rain soaked veil about her naked shoulders as she slowly bared the other breast, the soft pink nipples hardening in the freezing air. Grinning with satisfaction, her husband drew the tip of the whip around the contours of his bride's bosom.

  "Not bad, my dear. I see I shan't be able to lose myself in a veritable feather bed of tittery, like some other young girlies of my acquaintance possess. However, you shall do. Now, drop your drawers and tuck your skirts into your bodice."

  "What? How?"

  Frederica had begun to cry, hot tears coursing down her lovely face and she gazed down at her cruel husband imploringly.

  "Are you going to pretend that you don't like showing your buttocks and your little pink cunny to gentlemen, Frederica? That's not what I've heard."

  "Uncle Frederick! How could he? They made me do it!"

  "Ah yes. The eternal cry of the ravished maid. They made me do it! When said maiden has been flaunting herself about the house, turning an artful ankle at the lust starved youths..."

  "It's NOT true!"

  Sobbing hysterically, Frederica jumped down from the swaying trap, beating her tiny fists against her husband's chest.

  "It's not true! It's not true! They are liars and monsters, all of them!"

  "You little minx. I'm going to take you down into the cellar and give you the whipping of your life for this impertinence."

  His lined face as dark as thunder, Lord Urquhart pushed the weeping young woman down upon the wet gravel of the drive and swiftly reached under her skirts, wrenching the flimsy drawers down with one violent action.

  "I'll teach you one lesson you'll never forget, you trumped-up whore!"

  "Oh God, please..."

  "In God's eyes, you are now my wife, you vexatious trollop! Tuck your skirts into your bodice. Turn over onto your hands and knees. Now – crawl into the house."

  Moaning softly, Frederica did as she was told, several unruly auburn ringlets falling across her tortured face as she shuffled forwards on all fours, her bare buttocks fully exposed, the silk gown reduced to a bulky cummerbund. The sharp gravel tore her fine silk stockings to grubby tatters and her knees and the palms of her hands were marked by the stony ground.

  "A woman, a spaniel, a walnut tree – the more you beat 'em, the better they'll be!"

  Suddenly, Lord Urquhart snapped the whip down upon his bride's exposed bottom with a resounding crack, causing the young woman to jump violently and then reach back to clutch her stinging behind.

  "Oww! Oh mercy!"

  "Mercy is a virtue, my angel. I have made her acquaintance but fear she's not as beddable as her sister, Charity. Come along now. The wedding breakfast awaits!"

  Oh! Am I to attend this banquet in my honor with my breasts and bottom bared?

  Frederica continued to crawl into the house, rough, wet ground giving way to the sepulchral chill of the flagstoned portico. Every few yards, Lord Urquhart assisted her progress with a sharp taste of the slender whip, and each time, she leapt as wildly as a hooked trout, crimson welts springing from her milky flesh. The secret door was ajar, the marble nymphs smiling down at such divine debasement, as the young woman entered the concentrated night of the hidden passage.

  "My, you do resemble a tunneling mole, my dear! Not to worry, we're nearly there. I must say you're doing very well indeed. Such a marked improvement in behavior cannot be ignored."

  "Oh!"

  Frederica gasped in wonder at the glittering tableau, which greeted her emergence from the suffocating tunnel.

  "Why, it's like a scene from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves..."

  Lord Urquhart smiled indulgently and gestured in the direction of a magnificent golden tent.

  "And there, my precious love, is the scene of your deflowering. Feast your beautiful emerald eyes upon the rival gems..."

  Tentatively, the young woman approached the fanciful erection of shimmering embroidered silk, which was filled with a myriad of colorful cushions.

  This must have cost a king's ransom!

  "Step inside, Scheherezade. Relax upon the houri's bed. Let the entertainment commence!"

  At this, a strange, wavering flute began to play from the shadows of the gallery and Sydonie appeared at the top of the broad flight of stairs, which led down to the great hall. Lord Urquhart settled himself beside his wide-eyed bride and they gazed up at the glamorous vision, which slowly descended the ancient oak steps, glimmering in the flickering lampl
ight.

  "Oh! She looks so exotic..."

  A sharp pang of envy inserted its steely blade between Frederica's ribs as she watched the dusky maiden sway from side to side, her heavy mane of ebony hair skimming her supple torso like a sensuous cape. She was dressed as an odalisque, her long, firm legs loosely clad in flowing harem pants of such a translucency that the outline of her bronzed limbs was clearly visible through the shimmering magenta silk. Naked from the waist up, her upper body was draped in heavy and elaborate jewelry and the tip-tilted mounds of her breasts glistened with a slick coating of oil. Two golden tassels were attached to the dark stalks of her nipples and they twitched and frisked as Sydonie began to dance, ankle bracelets of tiny silver bells adding percussion to the haunting flute.

  And here I am – the bride – with my stockings in muddied shreds and my hands and knees dirty and grazed.

  "Sydonie's breasts do seem to have a life of their own. Don't you think, my sweet?"

  Lord Urquhart placed his hands on either side of Frederica's bowed head and pointed her face towards the undulating girl.

  "Watch her. I did not stage this little extravaganza for my bride to sit and stare at the holes in her stockings. Keep your eyes on those luscious bonbons or you'll get another lesson from my whip."

  Unwillingly, Frederica did as she was told and, as the music intensified, Sydonie danced towards the entrance of the tent, her gleaming breasts gyrating to the tinkling rhythm of her stamping feet. Smiling almost cruelly, she slid to her knees before the bride and groom and, arching her spine and waving her bracelet bedecked arms above her head, she thrust the frenetically twirling tassels into Frederica's face.

  "Mmm. Yum yum. I see the sweetmeats have arrived!"

  Blinking as a stray frond of gold silk caught her in one eye, the young woman turned to see Chastity approaching with a tray of assorted delicacies. This time, Frederica could not help but exclaim out loud.

  "Oh, my! Oh, look at her bosoms!"

  At this sudden outburst, Lord Urquhart threw his head back and laughed uproariously, offering a glimpse of an assortment of gold encrusted molars.

  "Ha! Ha! She is amazing, is she not? Indeed, I wonder that she can walk alone without recourse to some assisting device upon which to prop the mighty mounds. They are as vast as watermelons, you know. We compared them once at another soiree. Now then, Miss Bountiful Boobies, let's see what you have to offer."

  As Sydonie slid down upon a mound of pillows, Chastity advanced, kneeling before her employer, the round gilt tray a kaleidoscope of sweet delights beneath the twin blancmanges of her wobbling bosom. Like the other girl, she wore graceful harem pants of transparent silky chiffon, this time in a vibrant turquoise shade. Clearing her throat a little nervously, as if about to make a carefully pre-rehearsed speech, she began:

  "I have sugared a'monds, sir, an' ripe figs stuffed wi' marzypan an' Turkish Delights."

  Lord Urquhart examined the beautiful tray of sweets, which had been artfully prepared to form a mosaic-like design, the sugared almonds tinted pink and blue as if to match the outfits of the exotic attendants. Large chunks of gelatinous Turkish Delight formed a pale yellow halo about the candied nuts and the center was piled high with sticky figs, each dusted with icing sugar and oozing with fragrant marzipan. Frederica's mouth began to water and she realized that she had eaten next to nothing during the day. Eventually, after an agony of indecision, Lord Urquhart selected a piece of Turkish Delight and placed it against his young wife's lips.

  "Lokoum, as it is properly called. Haven't had it since I was out at Aboukir. Open your mouth, sweets, and take a nibble for Papa."

  At this, Sydonie snorted with mirth and Lord Urquhart turned to give her a look of intense disapproval.

  "Silence, cock slut, or I shall feel obliged to scourge your sturdy stern as an example for my precious wife."

  Frederica opened her mouth to take the delicious corn flour dusted square of lokoum, which tasted of orange and lemon and something else, which she could not determine. Smiling in satisfaction, Lord Urquhart reclined upon the bed of gorgeous pillows, an impish Puck in formal dress. Loosening his cravat and removing his shoes, he beckoned to Chastity, who still knelt with the tray of sweetmeats.

  "Come here, Miss Busty Milkmaid! I need a drink to wash the sweetness from my tongue."

  At that moment, it seemed to Frederica that the tent began to rock like a small boat in a restless sea. The young girl laid down her brimming tray and climbed on top of Lord Urquhart, straddling his narrow torso with her plump, chiffon clad legs. Laughing like a child at play, she dangled her massive breasts over her master's face and, pouncing like a cat upon a mouse, he drew one fat nipple into his mouth. Chastity began to moan, her brown hair falling in reckless strands across her rosy face, eyes closed in ecstasy.

  "Oh! Oh! Sir..."

  Frederica watched, the rocking sensation swiftly being replaced by a vague lethargy and a sense of heat between her thighs. Voluptuously, she stretched and slowly began to unfasten her garters, all self-consciousness receding with the rising tide of desire.

  They have given me something. Some opium perhaps, concealed within the sticky sweet.

  Lord Urquhart's head had almost disappeared beneath the crushing mountain of pink bosom and Frederica watched him swallow, his mouth massaging the peak of the breast. Milk leaked steadily from the other nipple and dripped down upon his immaculate shirtfront, causing a stain to spread and one hand to reach up and smack Chastity upon her squirming buttocks. The young girl flinched but could not move as her nipple was held fast within Lord Urquhart's mouth. Finally, he came up for air, releasing the extended teat and cupping the broad buttocks of the wriggling girl with both hands.

  "Oh, you want my pole to fly your flag so terribly, don't you, Miss Lust-titty? I think I shall put you across my knees and spank your bare behind for spoiling my fine new shirt."

  Oh, yes, yes! Redden her bottom, then chastise mine!

  Frederica continued to undress, unrolling the tattered remnants of the delicate stockings as the delicious lassitude enveloped her body.

  I don't care what I do. Perhaps I shall borrow Sydonie's tassels and undulate upon the rug, waving my bosoms to and fro...

  "Oh! Oh! Please, sir!"

  Chastity's voice was rising to a near scream as Lord Urquhart roughly turned her plump form across his knees and pulled down the waistband of the silky harem pants.

  "Oh God! Oh God! Master!"

  "I'll master you all right, you delicious whore."

  The young girl's buttocks were very full and wobbled wildly as the first slap resounded through the scented air. Lord Urquhart laughed.

  "You remind me of a girl I had in New Orleans. Quivered like a prune mould every time I spanked her ass and liked me to chastise her with a ping-pong bat. Wibble wobble, wibble wobble..."

  "Aaaaahhhh..."

  Chastity shrieked, climaxing violently, her bare feet kicking impotently against the heap of pillows as she writhed and sobbed across her master's lap. Bewitched, Frederica stared at the twin scarlet orbs of the young girl's buttocks, feeling a drop of love dew wend its sinuous path from her moist cleft to the inner contours of her thigh.

  I'm ready for Love. Oh, take me now!

  Lord Urquhart appeared to be lost in reminiscence, a quality frequently found in those gentlemen who have achieved a certain vintage.

  "Now, what was her name? Nana-May Potts. Drawled like a Negro cotton picker."

  "Please."

  Gently, Frederica laid her hand upon Lord Urquhart's arm and he released his grip upon Chastity's waist.

  "Please, sir – Papa, if you prefer – please make love to your wife."

  How could she say such a thing out loud? The tainted sweet had made her brave.

  "Ha! My little bride is a spankophile, I see! A Nana-May. But yew ain' no' voodoo chile, ah hope, mah hunny."

  Grinning like the skeleton at the feast, Lord Urquhart pushed Chastity aside and turned to appraise his
youthful wife, who now wore nothing but the crumpled silken sash of wedding gown and the voluminous veil.

  "Take off the dress but keep the veil on."

  His voice had changed again, like an intimation of a coming storm. Frederica's heart began to beat like a drum as she carefully extricated herself from the band of folded silk, then lay back, white and naked upon the glowing colors of the Arabian bed. It seemed right to part her slender thighs and open her graceful arms in a languid gesture of submission. The drug in her bloodstream reached its full potency and she suddenly threw her head back, arching her spine and giggling, as her beautiful red hair spilled upon the lavish pillows.

  "Sydonie."

  What does he want with the love slave, now?

  At Lord Urquhart's command, the statuesque young woman knelt between Frederica's creamy thighs and lowered her voluptuous mouth to taste the sweet juice, which flowed from the other girl's sex.

  "Ohhh..."

  "Sydonie possesses a talented tongue, my precious. Relax and let her take you to the perfumed garden of sensual delight... Chastity – take Lady Urquhart's toes into your mouth, one by one, and suck them as if they were peeled grapes..."

  "Aaahh!"

  The most incredible sensations were washing over Frederica's body, and she almost imagined that she was floating in the sun-warmed shallows of a tropical sea. Briefly opening her eyes, she saw the glistening purple mouth of the mulatto girl pressed against her downy mound of Venus, hungrily lapping and sucking on the tiny rosebud, which rose to greet her busy tongue. Somewhere, miles away, down at her feet, her toes were submerged in another hot, wet hole. At her side, Lord Urquhart was now stripped to the waist and unbuttoning his trousers. There was a brief glimpse of his large, rock solid member, held firmly in one hand as the other stroked his moaning bride's hair, then a misty cloud seemed to descend upon the helpless young woman.

  The veil! He has lowered the veil to cover my face...

  The hazy shape of a dark head bent to caress her hardened nipples with moist, velvety lips before withdrawing and she felt the figures move about her, suddenly grasping her wrists and ankles in a steely grip.