by Emily Tilton
Mr. Oakes, demonstrating once again his intelligence and his highly developed instincts in the matter of the task before him, said in a lower, sterner voice. “So very naughty, aren’t you, you little flirt?”
At the same time, he moved inside her, held her punished bottom even closer to his lap, and the sob he won from her turned into a passionate moan, and then a whispered, “Yes, sir.”
“Did you have a fucking from a footman in the woods?” Mr. Oakes asked, now beginning a more regular rhythm that quickly assumed a faster pace, as if he provided a sort of further spanking with each motion of his hips against Miss Adams’ little bottom. “Did you?”
“Yes, sir!” cried the young lady.
“And now do you have another footman’s cock in your cunt, you sweet young whore?”
“Oh, heavens… please, sir… yes… yes, oh…”
“Are you going to spend now, Rebecca?”
“Yes… oh, sir… Thank you, sir,” Miss Adams cried out, bucking against her rider as he instinctively put one hand upon her shoulder, caressing her neck to enforce his control over her and give her the opposition she so desperately needed to feel. She reached orgasm, her body going rigid under the coitus as Mr. Oakes continued to thrust into her, very close now to his own climax.
His hips flashed back and forth now, and a warning growl came from his throat. The animal drama of natural masculinity unfolded so starkly before Dr. Brown’s eyes that he nearly grew misty-eyed at the thought of the happiness he had brought these young people. Mr. Oakes gave a loud cry of his own, holding himself deep inside Miss Adams’ vagina. Dr. Brown had told him to ejaculate inside her as often as he liked, so long as he did not mind having children, for the couple could be married very quickly if necessary, and Mr. Oakes had said he wouldn’t mind putting a baby in his young lady’s belly immediately.
Mr. Oakes’ climaxing in Miss Adams’ vagina, though, meant that their first anal coitus should probably be postponed until her next training session, since these sessions could not be prolonged more than two hours in view of the young lady’s social obligations. If Miss Adams were to have her vulva shaved and to be put into an anal harness today, both highly desirable things, Mr. Oakes must forgo opening her bottom with his penis until tomorrow.
From the appearance of the scene in Mr. Oakes’ chambers, that would probably suit the erstwhile footman. He had gathered Miss Adams into his arms upon the bed, now, holding her pretty face against his broad chest and stroking her golden hair as she cried a little from the excess of sensation.
“Sister Jones,” the doctor said to the matron watching at the other peephole, “please go to them, and advise Mr. Oakes that if he wishes Miss Adams’ vulva bared today she should be shaved immediately.”
“Shall I take Miss Adams to the bathroom, then?”
“Yes, if Mr. Oakes wishes it. And he may observe, of course, if he wishes. If he decides to put her in the anal harness, have him bring her back here, so that I can advise him on how best to seat the trainer in her rectum.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said the redoubtable sister, and departed.
When the door had closed behind the matron, Dr. Brown turned his thoughts to a connected matter, whose resolution he knew would probably prove even more difficult than that of Miss Adams’ case. Miss Thomasina Perkins had proven herself rather a troublesome instance of what the physician had come to term collateral entanglement. Under ordinary circumstances—that is, if Miss Perkins and Miss Adams had not been bosom friends at school, and had not, it appeared, discussed erotic matters—Miss Perkins’ case, as unfortunate as it seemed, would not have fallen within the bounds of Dr. Brown’s medical jurisdiction. Though the unnatural man in question, Mr. de Gerner, belonged to a set that had decided itself upon opposing Dr. Brown’s aims at every turn, he would not have considered attempting to assist Miss Perkins if the case did not also bear closely upon that of Miss Adams.
As matters stood, however, some intervention would probably be necessary. Miss Perkins would almost certainly be seduced, and just as surely left embarrassed and unwed, by Mr. de Gerner, barring some action on the part of the Society for the Correction of Natural Daughters. In the wake of that scandal the close association of Miss Adams with her friend could easily be used by Dr. Brown’s enemies to blacken the physician’s name and expose the workings of the society in a highly unflattering light.
The doctor returned to the unfinished letter on his desk, addressed to the ‘aunt’ (of no true blood relation) with whom Miss Perkins had taken up residence for her first season in London. He took some comfort at least in it being possible to avoid involving the girls’ parents: Mrs. Teasdale, the aunt, had a reputation as an urbane woman despite outwardly favoring a strict application of the standards of moral probity—which application had led to the stern hair-brushing of Miss Perkins’ bare bottom after the incident in Hyde Park.
Dear Mrs. Teasdale,
I take the liberty of writing to you despite my being hitherto not fortunate enough to number myself among your acquaintances. My name is Reginald Brown, and I am a physician who takes a professional interest in the complexities of female adolescence. I write because I am currently involved in the case of Miss Rebecca Adams, whom you do know, I think, as Miss Thomasina Perkins’ intimate acquaintance at school.
It has come to my attention that Miss Perkins has been detected in, and suitably punished for, an indiscretion committed with a young man of the lower classes, to wit a stable boy from the livery stable whence you obtain your equipage and your horses for daily riding. I understand that because of this scandal you—I am sure with the consent of Miss Perkins’ parents—are eager to see her settled, and so have looked favorably on the pressing suit of Mr. John de Gerner.
I shall be frank, though I am certain I shall offend you by it. It is my hope that my frankness will nonetheless save Miss Perkins from a grave danger. I imagine you know Mr. de Gerner not to be a man of good moral character, and have decided to allow his suit out of a certain desperation as to Miss Perkins’ prospects in light of the episode with the stable boy. I urge you to reconsider, and to see that Mr. de Gerner, even if he did consent to marry Miss Perkins, would only do so in order to impose upon her a most unnatural life of vice and shameless debauchery, of the sort about which I am sure you have heard whispers, in regard to his cousin the Earl of Hobberly.
I wish to offer you an alternative, as hard to credit, or to endorse, as you may find it. I have sought out the stable boy, whose name is Joseph Mead. I have interviewed him at length, and I have determined him to be, despite his low birth, what I term a natural man—that is, with regard to the present matter, the sort of man who could, if given the chance, render Miss Perkins happy. I have also arranged, if Miss Perkins’ parents should consent to allow me to apply to the young lady in this regard, for the granting of a sufficiency, from an anonymous source, to set the young man up as a farmer in his home county of Oxfordshire.
I am sure that you, and Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, had much higher hopes for the young lady, but I am sure also that you can see that those hopes have flown, and that Mr. de Gerner represents not the prospect of their recovery but rather the probability of a further sinking, and of great unhappiness. Miss Perkins has certainly been a naughty girl, but I urge you to see that she does not deserve to be consigned into a rake’s clutches for that peccadillo. Though wedding her to a stable boy will perhaps seem a terrible fate to you, I wish to assure you that Mr. Mead will treat the young lady as she should be treated, both with tenderness and with the firm hand and consistent discipline for which you yourself have seen her need.
Send me word of your decision as soon as possible. If Miss Perkins is to be wed to Mr. Mead, I will undertake to prepare her for the change in her condition here in my chambers. You may inform her that she will, like Miss Adams, attend at daily sessions meant to teach her the value of submissiveness in a bride—a quality I feel certain that, despite your probable misgivings about the match, you, Mrs. Teasda
le, will thoroughly endorse.
In hope of doing Miss Perkins this benefit, I am
Your humble and obedient servant,
Reginald Brown, MD
A knock came at his door. “Come in,” he called, and smiled when he saw Miss Adams enter, with her hands on her head and her vulva neatly depilated, followed by Mr. Oakes. The redness of the girl’s cheeks indicated that some constructive modesty had taken hold, as a result of the shaving. She had a furrow in her brow, too, and she looked pleadingly at Dr. Brown as if begging that perhaps she might be allowed to dress now and return home.
“Sister Jones told me to bring Rebecca here, to have her harness put on for the first time.”
Miss Adams’ eyes went very wide, and she turned to Mr. Oakes in clear distress. Sister Jones had obviously spoken in Mr. Oakes’ ear about the matter, and the young lady had now heard the word for the first time in application to herself.
“Yes, indeed,” said Dr. Brown, smiling. “Miss Adams, stand next to the bench, there, please. We’ll get you into the belt and harness straps first, and then we’ll insert your trainer.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Harness?” Rebecca whispered, turning her attention from James to Dr. Brown and then back again. Her hands came off her head for a moment, but that provoked a warning glance from James, and she swallowed hard and returned them where she had been told by Sister Jones they belonged, “especially now that you look so sweet and bare down there.” She intertwined her fingers in her hair and bit her lip, still looking into James’ face and hoping that the visions that had flashed into her mind at the word harness would have nothing at all to do with what befell her next.
“Do as the doctor says, darling,” said James.
James. How could it feel both so strange to think of him that way, and so comfortable—literally comfortable, for when she heard his Christian name in her mind, it seemed a comfort to her. When he had been a footman, to call him James meant that he had a lower place in the household, lower than such servants as butlers, housekeepers, and ladies’ maids. Now to call him James meant… something else, something intimate.
If she were on this intimate footing with him, though, the man she no longer wanted to deny she had begun to love, then should he not spoil her, as husbands were supposed to? How could he, her James, have done what he did in that other room—spanked her… fucked her so very masterfully, making her turn her face down to the coverlet and holding her so firmly… stilling her wayward motions as his cock came and went in her wet cunny. How could he have allowed the matron to use the little scissors, and then the razor upon her private parts as Rebecca sat in the special chair that raised and spread her knees.
“Ah, look,” the matron had said to James in the bathroom, “your seed is trickling from her. You had a fine climax, I see.”
“I did indeed, sister,” James had said. “I hope I put a fine baby in there. Rebecca, you will be a wonderful mother, and I promise you and your children shall lack for nothing. I shall repay your father by and by, once I am in parliament, and with his patronage we shall live as well as any member can.”
Rebecca had almost been able to forget, then, that the matron was baring her cunny with her razor as James made this comforting pronouncement. She did wish to be a mother, after all, and to give a child the security of a name and a home that she herself had never known.
“There,” the matron had said at last. “As smooth as a peach. She will have a difficult time keeping her fingers away tonight, Mr. Oakes, since she is a known masturbatrix, so you will wish to consider your commands and arrangements in that respect.”
James had looked for a long time at the places from which Sister Jones had smoothed away all the pretty golden curls, which lay now in a little heap on the bathroom floor.
“She looks very sweet,” he had said at last. “Thank you, sister. Darling, I wish you to remember that your cunny is bare because I prefer it that way. You may play with yourself tonight as much as you like, to help you become acquainted with how it feels to have such a reminder that you belong to me—your cunny most of all.”
The sister had begun to sweep the flaxen remnants of Rebecca’s private thatch into a dustpan, but she said, looking up, “Thank your master, young lady.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rebecca had said in a whimpery little voice, thinking of how hard it would be to get any sleep, for she already ached for more of the pleasure James had brought.
Sir… the other thing as which she must think of this man. Her master. The man who would tell her when she might touch her cunny and when she might not, unless… unless she wanted to feel his big, firm hand upon her bare bottom, correcting her faults.
For a moment, yet again, Rebecca’s mind rebelled, but as she watched that defiant part of her rise up at the notion of the harness—whatever sort of thing that harness might be—a realization suddenly flashed in upon her. She felt the contrast between James and sir, between the intimate, affectionate relationship that bound a wife to her husband and this other thing that James had sensed, somehow, Miss Rebecca Adams needed, in her bedchamber at Rand Park, this utter submission to him. That difference—that paradox, of needing both things, love and discipline—put her need to defy the world in a new light.
She saw that James wanted to make her happy, and she saw that the master in him would not find the pleasure for which he yearned unless he could bend her to his will. But her master wished to overcome her willfulness only in such a way that Rebecca, too, must give into the voluptuous delight he could call forth in her body with his caressing hands and his pounding cock. She wanted him to conquer her, but to conquer her with love.
Over and over he had brought her to heel already, and every time she had thought, Yes, now I will obey him. When he had spanked her such a very short time ago, because she had not knelt to suck when told. When he had moved her mouth upon his rigid penis. When he had thrust and thrust and thrust into her cunny as he fucked her for the very first time. Rebecca had felt mastered, and she had gone along, her hands on her head, to have her private places bared for him.
Now, though… at the idea of the harness… the resistance and rebellion returned, but she could see that he would do what was necessary to teach her to obey him, over and over, and, suddenly, she realized that that knowledge made Rebecca feel safe. She would defy, and he would make her duty clear, with his firm hand when necessary, upon her bare bottom.
“Rebecca,” James growled. “Must I punish you again so soon? I shall have to whip you with one of Dr. Brown’s straps, this time. I don’t intend that you shall leave here in any doubt of the need to obey me.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she felt sure James would not understand that they were tears of relief and joy, rather than of fear. Perhaps she could make him understand some day. The thought of the strap made her move, though, for her bottom still stung from the spanking he had given her over his knee.
“Face the bench, if you please, Miss Adams,” said Dr. Brown.
The bench, which really looked much more like a punishment block than anything Rebecca would have termed a ‘bench’ hitherto, had places clearly meant for her knees and for her elbows. When she laid herself over the inclined structure, which seemed to have been fashioned of oak, with padded leather upholstery, she would present an even more shameful spectacle, she could see, than in the special chair in which Sister Jones had shaved her.
When she had done as the doctor instructed, she heard a drawer opening, and then a sort of jingling sound that made her face hot, for she knew it must be the harness, whatever that article comprised. Rebecca remembered when she had thought, that day she made it clear to William, the footman she had so foolishly thought preferable to her James, that he might have her for the fucking, how her blushes would soon be gone, and how glad she would be of their departure. The girl William had fucked in the little woods at Rand Park would never have imagined that such things as a harness for training girls could exist. How could such a thin
g, even imagined, not produce what Dr. Brown had called constructive modesty?
“The belt goes around the waist, of course,” the physician said now. “The cuffs just above the knees, with these straps in front and behind the thighs, running from the belt to the cuffs. Then the trainer with its straps is attached to the fittings in front, and the center one behind. The whole produces a sensation of domestication in the young lady that accustoms her quite rapidly to yielding herself for the exercise of her master’s natural rights.”
Rebecca tried desperately to picture what the doctor meant, but beyond the idea of the belt she failed utterly.
“You will put the belt and cuffs, with their straps, on her standing, and then place her upon the bench to seat the trainer.”
Rebecca heard a little whimper come from her throat, then, for the idea that that trainer must be seated had stirred in her the beginnings of an idea concerning the nature of the thing, of its purpose. James’ hands upon her came as a surprise, the next moment, for she had instantly become rapt into the terrible world of her imagination. She started, and trembled.
“Shh,” James said in his soothing, low voice. “Shh, darling. It will require some getting used to, I know, but you will learn to enjoy it, for I have decided that when you wear your harness not only tonight but every night, you shall have permission to masturbate whenever you like.”
Rebecca bit her lip, and could not suppress a second whimper.
“Do you not wish to thank me, Rebecca?” came the soft voice again.
She sobbed at that. “Yes, sir,” she said, thinking of the strap. Would he whip her if she did not touch herself in bed tonight? She felt the heat in her face grow. “Thank you, sir.” Suddenly she wanted to lower her hands from her head, but only that she might take his big hand and kiss it in gratitude.
But that big hand, along with its companion had begun to gird her hips with a narrow belt that buckled behind, so that she might not easily remove it herself. She felt along the belt’s lower edge cool metal rings, like those on a horse’s harness though smaller, to which the straps the doctor had mentioned must be meant to fasten.