The Indulgences of Isabelle

by Penny Birch

  I had a pretty good idea what Eliza would do to me, but at least she was a woman and had been in charge of my discipline and training. Submitting to her would be deeply humiliating, and probably quite painful, but it was a lot easier to face than the prospect of going to Walter Jessop. I even thought about backing out, because considered outside the context of the Rattaners it was an unthinkable thing to do, sending a young woman to spend the night with a dirty old man as a punishment. Unfortunately, within the context of the Rattaners it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, if perhaps a little harsh. Yet it was my own suggestion, and over the course of the previous year I'd voted for both Portia and Caroline to suffer similar fates. Both had gone through with it, and I'd thoroughly enjoyed the thought of their degradation.

  Jasmine had arranged for me to go to him the following Friday, and she told me, which meant the intervening time seemed to pass minute by leaden minute and yet simultaneously to rush past. To make matters worse a message had come back, accepting my submission with pleasure and asking that I be dressed in a corset and Victorian split-seam drawers under a long coat. Caroline made the drawers specially, great lacy confections that no respectable woman would have been seen dead in, while Jasmine put her ha'p'orth in by insisting I put on one of her corsets, which was low-cut and scarlet. I added a chemise in the same style, stockings and boots, so that I wasn't actually indecent under my coat, although I was plainly dressed for sex, which made just cycling out to Whytleigh a hideously embarrassing experience.

  It was bad enough knowing that under my coat I was dressed up as a Victorian prostitute, but as I rode the split of my drawers kept working apart, so that after a quarter-mile or so my pussy would be rubbing bare on the inside of my coat. I had to keep stopping to adjust myself, but at least by the time I got to Whytleigh I could tell myself I was wet because of the rubbing and not because I was aroused by what was about to happen to me.

  Walter's house, and shop, was one of a row of old red-brick cottages facing the Cherwell across a strip of cobbles. It was already dusk when I got there, with the only noise a group of ducks paddling in the river and very little even to indicate which century I was in. I'd been trying to make it easier for myself by imagining I really was a Victorian call girl sent out to a client's house, but if anything the fantasy only made my feelings of humiliation stronger.

  As I fastened my bicycle to the old-fashioned street light opposite Walter's shop I was thinking back to my first visit there. I'd been far less self-confident then, and had found it really quite easy to let my arousal at the thought of doing filthy things get the better of me. I had been defying the self-righteous minister who had done so much to turn me against religion and onto punishment. I was also defying my parents to some extent. All that was behind me now and my delight in having to play with a dirty old man's cock and balls was an embarrassing memory. I had sucked him off and let him come in my face and down my chest, something which was now once more a very immediate prospect.

  It took all my willpower to cross the cobbles and ring the ancient bell. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows, and I saw the curtain twitch aside and Walter's red, seamed face peer out, his loose mouth widening to a lewd grin as he saw that it was me. His face vanished, leaving me waiting, close to panic as I wondered what I could get away with, whether he'd want to spank me, to make me suck and lick on his ugly outsized scrotum, to slip his skinny little willy up my pussy to give me the first real fucking I'd had in nearly a year . . .

  'Ah, Isabelle, good evening,' he greeted me as the door swung open.

  'Good evening, Walter . . . sir,' I responded, remembering how he liked to be addressed.

  As I entered the shop I let my coat slip from my shoulders to show what was underneath, not really from any desire to display myself for him but because if I had to go through with it I preferred to maintain at least a little style. He looked me up and down appreciatively, then shot the bolts on the door and twisted the key in the lock. I was trapped, his plaything until the morning.

  'Very pretty,' he remarked. 'Now, straight upstairs with you, I think.'

  Walter was rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation, and he motioned for me to walk in front of him so that he could watch the sway of my hips and the wriggle of my bottom in my drawers as I made my way upstairs. Every step had either books or antiques piled to one side or the other, sometimes both, a clutter of objects that meant I had to place every foot carefully. His room was little better, with everything crowded together without the least sense of order, and even the bed seemed to have been hastily cleared, for me.

  I stopped in the middle of the room and hung my head, wishing that my lower lip would stop trembling and trying desperately not to fidget. Walter stepped past me, avoiding a table piled with china knickknacks, and picked up something that seemed very much at odds with the rest of our surroundings: a small, very modern digital camera.

  'Stay just as you are,' he instructed. 'You do know that Eliza said I was to take photographs?'

  'Yes,' I admitted.

  My sense of chagrin was boiling inside me as he took careful aim and shot a picture of me standing forlorn in the centre of his room, my head hung and my hands folded in my lap.

  'Excellent, excellent,' he said, checking the image in his LCD screen. 'Now, if you would open your chemise?'

  I complied, unbuttoning my chemise and opening it across my breasts. Walter took several pictures, all the while with the tip of his tongue poking out to one side. I found myself looking at the crotch of his trousers, where a little bulge had begun to appear, bringing blushes to my face and making my fingers shake as I held my chemise wide to show him my naked chest.

  'Excellent, excellent,' he repeated. 'You have such elegant little breasts, Isabelle, artistic even. Now, turn around, and we'll have a few shots of you baring that delectable little bottom, shall we?'

  I responded with a weak nod and did as I was told. With my back to Walter I pushed out my bottom, fumbled for the split in my drawers and slowly drew the 'curtains' wide. He was clicking away as fast as the flash would recharge, and took maybe ten or twelve pictures of me baring myself before he spoke again.

  'Very sweet – you are an absolute darling. Now, stick it out a little more.'

  What he meant was that I should show off my pussy and bumhole, but I deliberately turned my hips a little to one side in an effort to deny him the view.

  'A little more,' he instructed, 'and turn your bottom to me.'

  There was a firm edge to Walter's voice and I almost rebelled. But I found myself adopting the rude pose he was demanding, with my bottom stuck well out so that my pussy would show between my thighs and my bum cheeks would open to let him see between them. My bottom-hole is naturally brown, something I've always found embarrassing, and the burning sensation in my face reached a new intensity as I heard the whirr of the zoom lens and realised that he was taking a close-up of my exposed genitals and anal region.

  'Perfect,' he declared. 'That should keep Eliza and the girls happy.'

  Walter put the camera down, and I allowed myself a touch of relief and gratitude. Evidently he felt that a few rude photos would be sufficient evidence of my surrender, but the girls had seen me naked a hundred times and so the pictures would be no more than mildly humiliating. Ones of me sucking cock or having my bottom spanked would have been far worse.

  'I have you for the night, I believe?' he said. 'So perhaps a little amusement first, and then you can cook and serve my dinner.'

  'Whatever you say . . . sir,' I responded.

  Walter chuckled and sat down on the bed, his thighs splayed apart to show off the now prominent bulge in his old grey flannel trousers. Pulling two large pillows from beneath his coverlet, he made himself comfortable, with his back to the wall, very casually pulled down his fly and hooked his cock and balls free of his underpants. He looked obscene, there was no other word for it, fully dressed save for his weedy little cock and the bulbous mass of his huge s
crotum, all of it protruding from his open trousers, his wrinkled face split into the most lecherous grin I had seen in quite a while.

  'Suck my cock,' he told me, entirely unnecessarily.

  I could have sat down on the bed and laid across his lap to take him in my mouth, but I got down on my knees before I could think about what I was doing. As I crawled between his open legs I was telling myself it was the sensible choice because it meant he couldn't grope me while I sucked, but I knew that was a lie. I'd gone on my knees by instinct, as a properly obedient girl should when she is to give oral sex to a man.

  'What a good girl,' he remarked, chuckling.

  He knew, because I'd made Caroline kneel at his feet to perform the same dirty task – Jasmine, too – while I'd looked on with haughty amusement as they attended to his cock and swallowed his come or took it in their faces if I ordered it. Now it was me on my knees, with his ugly genitals right in my face as I tried to find it in myself to do as I was told. I hesitated a bit too long.

  'Come along,' Walter urged. 'This is no time to act the little madam, is it?'

  I hadn't been acting the little madam, I'd been thinking of my dirty fantasy about being made to suck Jack's balls and trying to pluck up the courage to act it out. Walter made the decision for me, at least in part. As he'd spoken he had taken me by the hair, pulling me firmly forward until my lips were pressed to his bulging ball-sack. I caught the smell of him – and the taste – as I gave in, opening my mouth around his balls to suck in just as much as I could. To have my mouth full of scrotum felt as obscene and ridiculous as it no doubt looked and he chuckled once more as he began to move my head about.

  'That's better,' he said. 'You have no idea how long it's been since I had my balls in a girl's mouth.'

  It was not a question I was likely to be asking, at least not soon. My jaw was agape just about as far as it would go and I could hardly breathe, save to snuffle in the thick scent of cock and some cheap aftershave through my nostrils. Talking was out of the question, so I tried to suck, mouthing on the leathery skin and bumping the fat eggs of his testicles over my tongue. It felt every bit as rude and dirty as I'd imagined it would, helping to bring out the feelings of erotic humiliation that I knew I'd need to get me through the night.

  When Walter finally decided I was being a good girl and relaxed his grip on my hair I began to lick instead, running the tip of my tongue over the skin of his scrotum and up and down his cock-shaft. He'd already been quite stiff, and now he quickly grew to full erection under my ministrations, while I was getting ever more randy and eager for my own humiliation. I wanted his balls back in my mouth, and gaped wide to push them in. At that he tightened his grip once more, keeping me firmly in place as I mouthed on the turgid bulk of his scrotum and rolled his balls over my tongue.

  'Why don't your rub your little cunt while you're doing it?' Walter asked suddenly. 'I like you to have your fun too.'

  It was about the most humiliating thing he could possibly have said, suggesting that I'd need to masturbate because he'd forced me to go down on him. Unfortunately it was true, but I shook my head, trying desperately to resist, although having been given permission made that harder by far. I closed my eyes and tried to think of the diplomatic relationship between the third Viscount Palmerston and Napoleon III, only to have both men appear in my mind with their genitals swinging from their open trousers. It was hopeless. My hand went back, to burrow into the slit of my fancy drawers and find my sex.

  I was hot and wet and puffy, ready to be penetrated and ready to come. My finger found my clitoris and I was masturbating as I sucked on Walter Jessop's balls. It was a truly filthy thing to do, and for all my rising ecstasy I felt utterly humiliated. But the stronger that feeling grew, the higher my pleasure rose. I was going to come, my thighs already tight, my bumhole starting to wink, my pussy squeezing – only for a sudden burst of red across the insides of my eyelids to startle me. He'd taken my picture, with his balls in my mouth and my face set in utter bliss, and that was the final, appalling humiliation that I needed to trigger my climax.

  My whole body went tight as my orgasm hit me, with the flash exploding in my face again and again, catching me with my cheeks bulging and as much of Walter's scrotum in my mouth as I could get, with my tongue stuck out to lap at his balls and shaft like some demented cock-hungry little slut, with my face pushed firmly against the slippery spit-wet mass of his genitals.

  The shame of what I'd done and what I'd been photographed doing hit me long before the contractions had stopped running through my body, to leave me sobbing on my mouthful of scrotum with tears running from my eyes as he continued to take pictures. I still sucked, now broken to my task, and continued doing so until he spoke again.

  'Now my cock,' Walter demanded. 'Suck me off – and you're to swallow properly, no tricks.'

  He'd still been holding me down on his balls, and I pulled back gratefully, gulping in air only to have him stick his erection unceremoniously into my open mouth. I took him in hand, tugging on his little stiff shaft as I mouthed on the bulbous helmet between my lips.

  'You've been taught well,' he sighed.

  It wasn't exactly the first cock I'd had in my mouth, just the first for a very long time, but I couldn't help but feel resentful at the remark, as if how to suck men off had been an important part of my education. I hid my feelings, working on Walter's cock with every pretence of eagerness and wishing that I didn't feel like lifting my bottom to be penetrated from the rear despite having just come. My mouth was full of the taste of him, particularly his balls, making me want to gag and pushing up my arousal again at the same time. I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything but what I was doing and the overwhelming humiliation of my situation.

  'That's perfect,' Walter gasped. 'Keep pulling, with just my knob between your lips. That's right . . . good girl.'

  I obeyed, thinking it was the way he wanted to come and bracing myself for my mouthful of slime, only to catch the flash of the camera once more. He'd taken another close-up, just at the instant when I'd expected a mouthful of come, which no doubt meant that my expression had been one of utter disgust. Portia was going to love it.

  'Hey, look . . .' I began, pulling my head up, only to have it eased firmly back onto his erection.

  'Shut up,' he ordered. 'I'm going to spunk soon . . . yes, like that . . . just like that . . . oh, you are such a darling little tart!'

  Walter finished with a grunt, pulling on my hair again and thrusting with his hips at the same time, jamming his cock down my throat even as he erupted. I started to choke, but he wouldn't let me up and a great mass of come mixed with snot exploded from my nose, all over his trousers. Even then he didn't seem to care, his eyes closed in bliss as he fucked my gullet with my eyes popping and my hands slapping futilely at his legs, spunk bubbling from my nose and the tears streaming down my face.

  'Good, very good,' he said, and finally let go of my hair.

  I came up, gasping for breath and trying desperately not to be sick all over Walter at the same time. He'd reached for the camera, but he took one look at me and put it down again with a soft, dirty chuckle.

  'Maybe not, on second thoughts. Would you like a tissue?'

  I nodded earnestly, still unable to speak.

  'Here we are,' Walter said, reaching out to his bedside table to retrieve a packet of tissues the normal purpose of which was all too obvious, and not so very different from their present use. 'Oh dear, I shall have to change my trousers. I do think you might have at least tried to swallow everything, Isabelle.'

  'You stuck it right down my throat!' I protested. 'You're lucky I wasn't sick.'

  'Now, now,' he chided. 'No hoity-toity behaviour, I said, or I may have to spank your bottom.'

  I sat back on my heels, thinking bitter thoughts. He had the right to do with me as he pleased, by my own rule, and I knew he'd be making a report to Eliza. Refusing anything would only make my coming punishment worse, and she could be horribly in
ventive. I decided to behave.

  'Sorry, sir,' I said, although my voice was thick with resentment.

  'You probably will be, before the morning,' Walter assured me. 'Now, let me see how that last one came out. I was a little over-excited at the time.'

  My curiosity was too strong not to want to look, and I bent forward. It was quite a good picture, at least in the sense that I was easily recognisable and it was quite obvious that I was masturbating him into my mouth with my lips around his helmet. I'd been right about my expression too, which gave the impression that while I was doing my sorry best I was hating every second of it. Portia was really going to love it, and I came to a quick decision.

  'I'll make a deal,' I offered. 'If you promise only to send the first few photos to Eliza, the ones you took of me showing off, I'll be extra good.'

  'Hmm, I'm not sure,' Walter responded. 'I know you, and I suspect that once you get going you'll be extra good anyway, but still . . . maybe, if I have no complaints by morning.'

  It was a typical bit of manipulation, but it was the best I could hope for. The question was, how much was I prepared to suffer from him in order to reduce my humiliation in front of the girls?

  Five

  The answer was: a great deal less than I had expected. Having made me suck him off he told me to prepare and serve dinner, which consisted of grilled pork chops, well-boiled cabbage and mashed potato. Walter seemed to appreciate my cooking, because he ate so much that by the time he'd finished he could barely move, let alone make proper use of me. I let him fiddle with my bottom and boobs, even put a finger in me, but his cock remained obstinately flaccid. Even in bed he couldn't get properly hard, despite having me sit nude on his chest as I worked on him with both my hands and my mouth.