The Instruction of Olivia

by Geoffrey Allen

  'She whispered something in their ears and they all glanced at me, whereupon she rested her head on my stomach, and lying on her side, lifted her thigh so she could be had in that fashion. One of the men got behind her and slipped in. I saw and felt her head jolt with the pleasure of it, and then of course it was my turn.

  'I thought she was just using my belly as a pillow, but soon discovered otherwise. After riding me for sometime, the man at my fork withdrew and put it straight into her mouth. She sucked it for quite a while, then back into me it went, hot once again from her devious tongue.'

  'Were you obliged to return the compliment?'

  'No, I wasn't. But they did make us do it with each other. I was too tired to resist, and besides, I knew that I was doing it all for you, and that every penny I was earning would help us.'

  'Very thoughtful,' said Henry, polishing off the remainder of the whiskey.

  'Well anyway, there we were, atop of each other, our forks in each other's faces and licking for all we were worth. I emptied out before she did; she was so good at it. Her thumbs pressed into my lips and opened them right up, stretching them so wide I knew I was baring my all. Her long tongue went deep inside me and I wriggled from the shock of it. It was in that deep I could feel it tickling my sides, and all the while her lips were pressed against my own, trying to eat me, it seemed.'

  'What were the men doing while you were eating each other?'

  'They stood over us and tossed their hands about their cocks, showering us with their spurtings. I felt it spotting all over my back and bottom, and the black woman, being underneath me, took hers on the thighs and all in her hair. It didn't bother her in the least; she just kept on pushing her head harder and harder into my fork.

  'Her teeth went nibbling all around my petals making me gasp and pant between her dark thighs. My own head was well in them and I was nibbling at her hair. She was quite a size down there, and my face fitted easily in her gaping cavern.'

  'You sound jealous, my dear. Are you sure you're not exaggerating her blessings?'

  'Cross my heart and hope to die. It was as big as the slit on that girl what run away.'

  Henry did not wish to be reminded of that. He had seriously considered getting rid of Charlotte and replacing her with Olivia after whipping her into obedience and half starving her into submission. His mother, who owned the business, had threatened to reduce his allowance after Olivia's escape. She would have made a hard working slave for many a year.

  'And you went on nibbling while she was searching into your cunt?' Henry said rudely.

  'I did, but not as clever as she. Her teeth went on nibbling until my juices flowed and I heard her lapping them up, her lips and tongue drinking from my fork like there was no tomorrow. I had to keep on going until I'd done my job, which weren't easy, 'cos she took such a long time in coming.

  'When she did her legs rose off the floor and started waving about all over the place. Her thighs rubbed into the side of my 'ead and I thought I'd suffocate. Everything went black.' She paused and laughed at her own joke, but Henry wasn't laughing. The more Charlotte continued the greater his desire to meet the woman. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be worth a half-sovereign of the takings, even for half what Charlotte had experienced.

  Charlotte, seeing the serious look on his face, guessed what he was thinking and quickly ended her delivery.

  'I found her bud and nibbled that, then with a cry to wake the dead her arse shook and she came as well. I could hear her tunnel making sucking noises as well as the lips slapping into the sides of my face. Disgusting. Horrible. I wouldn't want to meet her again for all the tea in China, even if she does want to meet me.'

  Henry sat bolt upright. 'What did you say?'

  'Nothing.'

  Henry slapped the side of her face very hard. 'You said that she wanted to meet you again. Don't deny it. I heard you.'

  'If you really want me to meet her, I will,' she said, grovelling at his feet and reaching for the bulge in his breeches which was bigger than she had ever seen.

  'Did she tell you where this meeting was to take place?'

  'The same spot as where the carriage drew up, and tomorrow night if it pleases me.'

  'It will please you,' he said sternly. 'And if you're offered employment in that quarter you will take it, d'you hear? You did well tonight, and shall do so again with as many as pleases. The more men you have the better for us both.'

  'I only want to please you,' she said, releasing his organ and rubbing it between her fingers.

  'You did that right enough,' he said, smiling artfully. 'Indeed, I should like to meet this woman. For your protection, you understand.'

  'And so you shall,' Charlotte replied. 'If I am to be set to work, I should want you with me.'

  'And what if I should have to chain and beat you? How would you like that?'

  'I would be honoured, Henry.'

  'And you wouldn't care at all how many men you had to have?'

  'As many as it takes to make you happy.'

  With that she took his organ into her mouth and started sucking for all her worth.

  'You're a dirty girl,' he complimented, 'and will make me - us a fortune. The dirtier you are, the richer my purse. What good fortune when you got your fat arse into that carriage.'

  Charlotte didn't hear him. Her mouth was working hard, unlike her brain, which almost ceased to function the second Henry's organ stiffened in front of her.

  Chapter Twelve

  All the trials and tribulations of Olivia's former life began to fade from her mind as she revelled in her new found happiness. She had been in her uncle's house for a week and was slowly becoming accustomed to his peculiar foibles and quirks. She didn't mind in the least the young women who arrived there at night, sitting on the mattress and doing nothing more untoward than feasting his eyes on her beauty, reminding himself perhaps, of the days spent with her mother, which he told her had been the happiest of his life.

  Quite suddenly he announced that they were going to visit an old friend of the family, who for the present wished to remain incognito, but was desirous of making her acquaintance. Olivia rode in the carriage alone on the short journey that brought her to his door. She was shown into a small, dimly lit, but comfortably furnished drawing room, and left alone while the maid went off to inform her master of Olivia's arrival.

  While she waited she amused herself by looking at the photographs on the wall, hoping to find a clue as to his identity, but there was none. Most of them she recognised as her uncle's handiwork; women in various stages of undress, baring their bottoms and in the process of receiving a flogging. She was so absorbed that when a strong pair of hands gripped her from behind she nearly passed out with fright.

  'Don't move,' he told her, and in the next instant slipped a mask over her eyes.

  She was spun round, blinded, with the man so close that she could smell his cologne drifting into her nostrils.

  'Who are you?' she asked.

  'It is not necessary that you know my identity, only that you do exactly as you are told. Do you understand?'

  She nodded and told herself that there was nothing to fear. She as sure that this was a game her uncle was playing, and soon he would reveal himself much to the amusement of the participants.

  'You will now remove your clothes. Your underwear you will leave for the present,' the stranger said, and she heard him step back from her, giving her room to undress.

  'Does my Uncle Walter know I have to do this?' she asked, thinking that this sort of game was not entirely to her liking.

  'That does not concern you. Your obedience is all that matters here; obedience without question.'

  The timbre of his voice left Olivia in no doubt that any disobedience on her part would be very foolish.

  'I will obey,' she said reluctantly, reaching behind her.

  She loosed the tiny pearl buttons of her dress and slowly drew it away from her shoulders, constantly aware that, although
she was in darkness, he was watching her every move. The jacket slipped from her arms and fell to the carpet with a sad plop.

  'Now your skirt,' he said. 'Take that off, and when you have done that, stand up straight, hands by your sides.'

  Olivia tutted to herself and wriggled the skirt to her knees. It fell of its own accord to her feet and she clumsily stepped out of it and kicked it away. Then she stood upright in the position he had demanded.

  Suddenly she felt very vulnerable, standing in her underwear, blindfolded, and in front of a perfect stranger. From behind her mask she could feel his eyes boring into her, studying her figure, going all over her stockinged calves and the bare area of chest above her corset.

  'Now your petticoats.'

  Olivia tutted louder, which he ignored and watched with great interest as the five layers of cotton came off, one at a time, forming a pink and yellow heap over her already discarded dress.

  'I have a right to know just what you are going to do with me,' she said abruptly.

  'You consented to obey without question, so why now are you making these demands? If you were lawfully married would you question your husband, or disobey his will?'

  'You are not my husband,' she retorted.

  'But if I were you would obey me, would you not?'

  'Without question, sir,' she said suddenly, as if the power of his voice had transformed her into an obedient and willing wife.

  'Then remove your corset.'

  'And my drawers?' she asked dumbly.

  'Just do as you're told.'

  Olivia struggled with the strings, fumbling with knots and trying desperately to do his bidding. She heard him walk across the room, open a drawer and return softly, standing directly in front of her. A length of cold steel slipped under the string nearest her waist and tugged sharply upwards. Olivia caught her breath. No one had ever used a knife blade to cut away her corset, much less so close to her bare skin! She stood rigid while the strings broke away up her belly and over her breasts, where because of the tension, they suddenly flew apart and her breasts burst forth, naked and proud.

  'Now you can remove your drawers,' he said, clattering the blade on a table.

  Olivia bent over and slid them down her legs, knowing that her breasts were swaying to and fro as her shoulders hunched forward and each knee was raised and then lowered. She stood up again, attired only in a pair of black thigh length stockings and high-heeled boots. It was a miracle that she had not lost her balance during the proceedings.

  'Are you going to whip me?' she asked fretfully.

  The mysterious gentleman made no answer, but placed his hands on her hips. They drew slowly upwards into the curve of her waist, pinched it for a while, and then continued up her sides, not stopping until they rested at the outward swell of her breasts.

  'Touch your nipples,' he whispered close in her ear.

  They rose immediately, partly from the resonance of his command, and partly from a fear that she could not quite readily understand. A cold chill rippled through her belly when, at his next instruction, she gathered the full weight of her breasts and lifted them high in the air, still teasing the teats with her thumbs. She kept up her fondling until he told her to take her hands away and lie herself on the floor, legs open.

  Groping in the darkness, she lowered herself to the carpet in front of the fire, whose heat now radiated through her back and thighs. Awkwardly she shuffled away from the crackling flames and the sparks that now and then, with a loud crack, fired onto the hearthrug.

  'A while ago,' he began, 'you allowed a stranger to put his hand inside of you, an action which you did not resist, and indeed found most pleasing.'

  Olivia had to think about that. Quite a few strangers had put their hands inside of her of late, but none, to the best of her memory, had actually pleased her.

  'At the undertakers,' he reminded her, 'where you were chained like a dog.'

  'I do remember,' she faltered. 'But how...?'

  'Your uncle has told me everything,' he said, 'and now I wish to see it for myself. But from the ministrations of your own hand.'

  'I'd rather I was whipped!' she replied, turning her knees inwards and obscuring her slit from his gaze.

  'That will come later,' he assured her, 'after you have obeyed this command, and to my satisfaction. Or do you dare risk disobeying me?'

  Dumbly obedient, Olivia let her knees fall open and stretched her hand down into her groin. Under the mask her eyes were tightly closed as she recalled how the stranger had put his fingers inside her; had aroused the chill in her belly and made her go wet and dizzy. A feeling she had not encountered since with anyone.

  The mask served its purpose as her fingers encountered the quivering slit between her parted fleece. Others had touched her there, in her most private place, but then it had been under sufferance and almost always against her will; something she suffered because she had too. Occasionally she had fingered herself, but in aspect of curiosity, and always in the furtive privacy of her bed, well away from prying eyes. Now she was expected to do it herself in front of a stranger, but the mask at least spared her blushes.

  She wondered, as her fingertips searched around the perimeter of her lips, why he was making her perform such an act. Perhaps it was mere curiosity, but that could not be true, being as he was obviously a mature man who doubtless had had many women, or was it because they were related and, like her, he did not wish to look into the eyes of one engaged in what was, after all, her private affair?

  As her fingers slipped in through the wetted portals of her slit, Olivia recalled an incident from childhood; one that she had forgotten until now. She had been gone into the nursery and seen her cousin, Adele, stretched out on a couch, one leg draped over the edge, her head thrown back moaning, her hand rubbing her fork. Olivia had watched her face redden, and had seen the look of undisguised pleasure on her face when she had reached her climax.

  Olivia's own fingers now penetrated to the knuckle, and slowly she worked them to and fro, feeling them get wetter and wetter. Her mouth opened and she heard herself beginning to pant, the breath starting to come in short, urgent gasps as if she were running. A bead of sweat formed on her brow and trickled across her temples.

  Adele had told her that when she worked as a governess she had felt the urge to rub herself, and in the schoolroom, when she was alone, had laid across the desks and put her fingers inside her. Her employer had heard the noise and caught her in the throes of her climax. When Olivia had asked if she had been dismissed or confined to a madhouse, Adele had laughed and replied that he had ordered her to take off her drawers and continue with the exercise. When she was again panting and blushing he had entered her, and many times after that, it seemed.

  Olivia wondered, as she recalled how disgusted she had felt, whether the same would now happen to her. She knew the man was sitting close by, possibly between her open legs watching every move of her wrist. Was this what he meant by obedience, doing everything she was told? He could hardly accuse her of not obeying him, for now her fingers were moving faster and the heels of her boots digging deeper and deeper into the carpet.

  'Is this what you want?' she panted, opening her eyes and finding herself still in darkness.

  His silence unnerved her, only his unseen presence willed her on. Her back arched high off the carpet. Her bottom lifted, supported by straining thighs and bent, trembling knees. Using her heels as levers, and with the back of her head pressed hard into the floor, her whole body lifted, exposing her dripping slit and a hand that moved so fast it blurred before his eyes. Suddenly the room seemed to spin, and it felt as if her whole life's blood were draining from her fork. She let out a piercing shriek and went rigid. Drenched in sweat, her body crashed to the floor and she lay still. Only her head moved, lolling gently from side to side.

  The gentleman waited until Olivia's chest resumed its normal breathing, and then ordered her up on her feet. She reached out for his hand but no help came. In the dark
she struggled onto her haunches, then her knees, and finally tottered on her heels to wherever he was leading her.

  She followed blindly, bumping her knees against the furniture, until she found herself positioned against a wall.

  'Put up your arms,' he commanded, and Olivia obeyed without question, without thinking, without offering the slightest resistance.

  She knew that the rings being fitted around her wrists were another test of her obedience, as would be the whipping she knew would not be long in coming.

  'What will you use on me?' she asked, her body flattened into the wooden panelling.

  He made no answer, but lifted the chain that bound the rings and slipped it over a hook, thus suspending her up on her toes.

  'You choose. Which method of punishment causes you the greatest pain?'

  'The cat o' nine tails,' she murmured.

  In the interlude when he went off to fetch the required instrument, Olivia wondered why she had so willingly complied, and not had the good sense to mention a cane or strap that would hurt far less.

  He came back and she heard, or thought she heard, the clanking of metal.

  'While you were in the House of Correction, you were fitted with an iron belt, were you not? One that penetrated you from beneath.'

  Olivia nodded. 'A belt with an iron spike, that went up inside me.'

  'I cannot vouch for the pedigree of that particular fitment, probably a relic from the Inquisition. I can however explain the history of this, which you will find equally as painful, but as you are flogged will give you considerable pleasure. Please open your legs.'

  Olivia shuffled her soles across the floor until her weight was taken on the tips of her boots. Her knees caved in and touched the panels and seemed to hold there.

  'It was used on slaves,' he told her, 'by the Sultans of Turkey, when the girl in question was less than forthcoming.'

  Olivia's buttocks went taut as he slid a long cylindrical, metal tube into her vagina. At the end of the tube, appearing from between her parted lips, was a key which he slowly turned. Against the wall of her tunnel she felt a curious tingle which grew more painful with every turn. The spikes coming from the tube were not honed to points, but nevertheless were sharp enough to make her catch her breath as he went on turning.