Chapter 12

The move back to Newborough might have been delayed. The bishop had moved quickly to sell off the small house that was owned by the church and used by the vicar of St Maximus’; when that vicar moved on, the church was closed, only two Church of England churches being needed it was decided. Simon might have moved into the house, but it was sold.

His (and Susan’s) house was to be renovated. They had sold their house in Oxford for a considerable profit: “Perhaps we should be property developers?”

“My dear,” Susan replied. “I think property developers do not find themselves homeless.”

“Quite so.” They had used the money from Oxford to buy the adjacent house in Acacia Avenue and then employed builders to add short corridors between the two houses. Now the rooms were being converted to be more suitable mostly for the unmarried mothers, with a small suite of rooms for Simon, Susan and any children.

Emmie had stayed, and was now enjoying her expanded role as nutrition advisor to these young women (mostly young). The plan was that in the Summer they would come for a week of sun and healthy air, and would learn a little about feeding and caring for a baby. In the winter they would stay longer and learn some useful skill hopefully. That was the plan. But until the work was completed, Reverend and Mrs Peters had no home. “You must stay with us, we have plenty of room the wife of The Very Reverend Canon Doctor Michael Walker had said. The vicar had been less enthusiastic, but the offer had been made; he wondered if he might persuade the newly married Mrs Peters to accept his special form of punishment, but then was taken badly ill in a fortuitous way and had to spend much time in the infirmary. “He moves in mysterious ways.” Mrs Marjorie Emily Walker said and Simon and Susan moved in temporarily. Simon took on the role of vicar in something of a baptism of fire; which mostly he did well.

Every night, the young man would take his marital right, or duty. In their room, as guests, they tried to be as quiet as possible. But Marjorie Emily clearly heard the noises from there, and her daughter Felicia heard the noise through the wall. They both drew the same conclusion as the sound was close to the similar noises that came from The Very Reverend’s study when he took some female to task: “Ohhh, Ahh, Ahh, eurgh. Ahhhhh!”

‘He seems so nice, yet he is very strict with his young wife’, Marjorie Emily thought as she heard these noises once more through the door. ‘perhaps she is very errant in her attitudes and opinions.’ Then she heard “Now present that bottom, do. I love this as you know! Bend over please” Mrs Walker wondered what he had been doing before.

In her room, next door to the couple, Felicia listened amazed, she had assumed that the occasional instruction was needed, for females were (her father had inculcated into her) notoriously lax in their morals. That was clear from Eve onwards through Jezebel and beyond. But next door she heard poor Mrs Peters being berated “Ohhh, Ahhh, aahhh, Oaaaa, AAHHHH! Oh, thank you husband, thank you.” And then she had to pretend to be so grateful after? “Oh yes, perhaps a little more, use your hand.” She was asking for more punishment! She must be such a sinner.

In the morning, Susan always looked radiant. It must be that she learnt a lot from the punishments, perhaps her husband took the trouble to explain the error of her ways and she was grateful. Yet in the evening it would all begin again, the grunts, the cries, the noises of flesh flip flopping. That these noises might be Susan’s naked and well-formed breasts bouncing up and down as she rode her husband’s erection did not occur to Felicia, and neither to Marjorie Emily who should have known better. The truth was that her husband’s love making was pedestrian, unimaginative and always in the same position. It was not that he selfishly opted to take his pleasure to the exclusion of hers, the truth was he had never even thought about it. Perhaps he was not even aware that a woman could enjoy it. Or they could be the noise made by a vigorous rubbing of a lady’s genitals as she reaches the climax of a process designed to bring her to shout “Ohhh, thank you! Yes, that feels much better now.”. Or it mght be the noise made by a male or female hand rising and falling on a significantly erect penis, circling round it and up and down almost violently to bring the man to expend his semen in a fountain of white strings onto a hand or onto a naked female form placed in just the position for the threads to land atop her breasts so that those same, or different, hands could massage it into the skin with noises that might be interpreted as pain: “Ohh! Ahhh, Ummmm” but are in fact pleasure.

None of this occurred to either of the permanent residents of the vicarage, and if the maids heard this and understood it, it was not their place to comment – and commenting when it was not your place could result in the vicar delivering some instruction.

So it was that Felicia and Marjorie assumed the new curate followed the same course of action as their father/husband and therefore it was perfectly normal.

Which is why, when Felicia was heard using the ‘D-’ word when she dropped a large piece of coal on her foot, she was not surprised to be remonstrated with. “Damn! Oh, Mr Peters! Sorry, my shoe, you see? It has a nasty black mark. And my toe hurts! I was just going out.”

“Oh? Well perhaps we might talk later.” He actually wanted to discuss a slight change in the procedure for bringing the collection to the altar, but she assumed, naturally, given the timing and circumstances, that he was taking his role as ‘temporary Vicar’ in earnest. She curtsied and left, cursing quietly again that she had been caught.

On return from her trip out to buy a new hat ribbon, she found Simon Peters in the library. She assumed he was awaiting her. “Ah, Mr Peters.”

“I do wish you would call me Simon.”

“Hardly appropriate in the circumstances. My father always carried out talks in his study, should we maintain the tradition in his absence?”

“Hmmm? As you wish.” He stood up, not seeing that Mrs Walker had brought him in a cup of tea. He knocked her arm and the tea cascaded over her dress.

“Oh, Mr Peters! I am sorry. I -”

“I did not see you!” He meant that as an apology, but she took it as an accusation. The dress might be ruined. That meant expense, even if it could be repaired. That meant she had cost the family money, and that meant she was at fault. That was how her husband’s mind worked and she had got used to it.

“Mama, we are just going to Papa’s study, perhaps you should come too. To save two discussions.” Simon was not sure what that comment meant, but since Felicia was already moving towards the study, he followed. He was the guest, no matter that this seemed an odd tradition. Mrs Walker followed. As they left, Susan, Mrs Peters arrived from checking how the building work was proceeding, she watched the small procession going into the study as she removed her coat.

Simon held the door of the study open, the two women filed in, and he turned to close the door. When he turned back to look at the women, the older woman had removed her dress – intending to pass it to a maid immediately after, and the younger was already bent over the desk at one end. Her mother joined her at the other end. Both lifted skirts and underskirts and finally made to drop their final covering. At that moment a slight draught signalled that the door behind him had opened. He hastened to turn and close it; he had no clear idea what was happening, but he was sure it should not be seen outside the room.

“Susan! I -”

“Why, whatever is going on? ... Marjorie? Felicia?”

“The good reverend is about to remonstrate to teach us the error of our ways, like he does with you each night. My father is indisposed, as you know.” Felicia explained in a matter-of-fact tone that suggested this a perfectly normal activity.

“The carpet beater is in the corner.” said Felicia’s mother, helpfully.

Susan, ever quicker on the uptake of a new idea than Simon, connected the rumours, the carpet beater left in Miss Barker’s will and the fact that it was sitting in the corner now; before Simon could deny or refuse, she responded. “Oh of course, how remiss of me to realise that without Reverend Walker my dear husband would have to take up the burden. Perhaps I should be remonstrated with as well for being so thoughtless. But husband, you might do that later in our room? To spare my blushes. However, is it entirely appropriate that Mr Peters uses the carpet beater? Perhaps he should not?”

Marjorie Emily Walker was not so quick, she was not clear how using the carpet beater was less appropriate and wondered what he should use instead.

“Should he, I mean Mr Peters, should he use his hand rather than an implement, think you?” Felicia asked.

“I do, Felicia, and I am pleased to hear that you agree.” Which she hadn’t, she was just thinking out loud; she wasn’t sure why using the carpet beater was inappropriate either, but she was young and realised that perhaps she had not understood this delicate piece of decorum.

Simon, meanwhile finally found his voice. “I’m not sure that this is appropriate in an case -”

“That they should be addressed alone? You are right, as ever, my dear husband. I shall stay, since you request it. My husband is always so careful of the proprieties. Naturally we, none of us, need to speak of this outside the four of us. It should be private between us.”

“Thank you. I fear if father heard of it, he would spank us again.” Felicia said.

“Well? Will you complete your preparations? Or should I help?” Susan asked, already a tingling in her loins indicated that this was an erotic pleasure that was causing her to be ready for the later evening early. She stepped forward before any answered and removed the last vestiges of both ladies covering. Simon was now looking at two naked bottoms, the one a small, perfect, rounded pair of cheeks that showed little evidence of the growth into full woman hood between them. Felicia stood with her legs slightly open – when sitting fully clothed she knew to keep her knees touching, but her father had once explained that standing slight open legged during the punishment meant she was more stable, less likely to fall over. He was considerate that way. So far, standing in that position there was just small evidence of the ridges that emphasise the entrance to a woman’s vagina. There was some. The other bottom was broader and rounder and softer in appearance. Her legs were tight together, conscious of what was exposed. Her husband had similarly told her the myth about stability and insisted she open her legs a little.

Simon waited, unsure of the next action. His eyes travelled from the bottoms to the crumpled underwear at their ankles, to his wife who was smiling broadly like she had heard a wonderful joke, and back to the exposed rear ends of his hostess and her daughter. “Are you both ready?” he asked, not being sure what to say.

“Are you both ready?” Mrs Walker heard and understood him to mean that she was not, in fact, ready as she was not standing in the approved manner. Reluctantly she opened her legs a little, displaying the full glory of the two ridges that were much more prominent in her. In that position one could now even see a hint of pubic hair beyond. Mrs Walker’s bottom cheeks glowed pink, not from a spanking that had not started, but from embarrassment at being viewed in such a way by a near stranger.

“Simon! You had better start.” Susan said. “No, not like that. Haha, remember what you do to me.” He looked at her and did remember, his heart started beating faster. “I’m sure there two lovely ladies want to feel that they are suitably punished for their ills. Otherwise they won’t feel redeemed.” That thought may never had occurred to either of them, but it did now. They both agreed. He slapped Marjorie this time, harder. Her bottom wobbled in a way that seemed positively enticing. As it wobbled, the anal ring of muscle appeared and disappeared. He was pleased that the two females were looking away as he adjusted his increasing erection. Susan laughed, which confused the two ladies being punished. “Sorry, I was laughing at his weak slaps.”

Simon slapped her harder; his hand stung, but he carried on. With each slap, her buttocks wobbled and opened. He tried to see that other hole again. Susan did not realise that it was giving him ideas. At the next stroke down, he made sure his hand was central and therefore a finger or two slipped into the gap. “Ohh?” was Marjorie Emily Walker’s comment. His finger had touched the entrance to her vaginal opening and she found it not entirely unpleasant. Poor Reverend Walker lacked the imagination to realise that there was ‘more ways that one to skin a cat’ or to excite a wife. His slaps continued. He realised that what he would have done if he was alone was to allow one of his fingers, perhaps two, to force their way into that tight ring of muscle. He knew it was probably wrong to even think about such a thing, but the idea was embedded in his head, as he was thinking he would like to be embedded in her. At least, he told himself, at least it was not her sex part; at least he was not imagining cuckolding his own vicar. He was honest enough with himself to know that he was being hypocritical. He stopped.

“Well done Simon. Marjorie?”

“Oh yes, thank you Mr Peters, thank you.”

“Perhaps stay in that position until your daughter has been dealt with too.” Simon said, finally warming to the task at hand. Task at hand, he thought, Oh yes, I wish my hand could ... He distracted himself by slapping the younger lady. Her bottom did not wobble. She was solid and her muscles were tight. Every slap was down onto her fleshy parts with a lovely feel to them. Instead of letting his hand go between, into the valley, instead of pushing his fingers down that very tight vale of beauty, he let his hand slap first left and then right; if she didn’t notice him giving each buttock a squeeze then she was insensitive to an unusual degree. But she did feel it of course, his fingers compressing first one side and then the other. He told himself he couldn’t help it, he told himself he wasn’t really doing anything. Once more, he knew he was lying to himself and therefore to his God, he would pray for forgiveness later.

“There, that will do I think. Thank you for being so obedient. I hope not to have to remonstrate again.”

“Thank you Mr Peters, I feel I have learnt a lot.” said Felicia “Though I fear there may be more need at another time.”

“Off you both go. Yes pull up the underwear and smooth down the skirts of course. Susan ... I have a conversation I need to have with you. In our room.”

Felicia smiled at her mother as they left “I think she is in trouble too. If you come to my room we can listen if you like.” They went up to Felicia’s room and Marjorie locked the door. She had in her hand a tub of ointment to reduce the stinging; this was something they had always done after Reverend Michael’s attempts at driving them to the right path. If he knew what the ointment did to their imaginations as a hand smoothed and rubbed it on, he would have despaired at the perfidiousness of women (and enjoyed applying more instruction).

“Yes Simon?”

“You remember you said that you would obey me in all things and I said I would not expect that? I wonder where the line is.”

“Ask what you want, I shall comply. I see you need relief. Should I lift the front of my dress?”

“It is ... that is to say ... when I slapped them ... well, Mrs Walker anyway. I saw ... that is I perceived that ... Well I saw her back hole. And ... well, I think ... I mean.”

“I think the mist is clearing. I have heard of such things. I heard one of the mothers say that she wished she had encourage her beau to ‘take her up the arse instead of the fanny’. Is it your intention to demand this of me?”

“Well, I mean. I ... that is ... oh.” His wife had already pulled off her dress.

“I promised you any delight you desired since you treated me well before we married and have kept the houses in our joint names after marriage. Only, I have no idea how this should be accomplished. Do you just ram it in? It is, perforce, a very tight seal; unlike my cunny.”

In the other room, Marjorie was finding her ears reddening with shame at the conversation she was listening too, and her daughter was hearing of something that ... surely that was condemned in the Bible? Surely it was? And her daughter heard that it was the sight of her mother’s anal exit that had excited this corrupting idea. Felicia had taken a little longer to realise what was under discussion, she had assumed that Susan would be spanked but now, as her mother gently caressed her bottom with a cooling lotion, she was hearing that next door the woman was about to be ... well, fucked up the arse – she tittered at the crudity and the idea.

“I shall insert a finger with some of your hand cream, and then ... yes, now I can get two in.” So he continued. It took some time, by the time he reached four, in the next room Felicia was being encouraged to apply the lotion to parts of her mother’s bottom that were never touched. Her mother was sighing with pleasure at the feeling being engendered. Her daughter was stroking the folds and indents of her mother as they leant against the wall to hear better; she had realised that the cooling lotion was all working in to the skin and yet her fingers were still slippery and wet. “Try and insert now. I shall lie on the bed.”

“No, if you lie on your back and lift your legs then you will have to hold them. Lie on your front like when we do it with me on your back. Yes, now let me put a pillow under you to lift you. Oh you are tightening up already.”

“Push it in! Push it in! AhhH!! It hurts a little. No! Do not stop. Push!”

“Rub yourself. Like when I watched last night. Yes oh yes.”

“Mother.” said Felicia in her bedroom. “He is inside her behind, and he is telling her to do what?”

“To pleasure herself, I will tell you later. Don’t stop massaging, there’s a good girl. Oh yes. Oh Yes that is making it much better.”

So, in Simon and Susan’s room, he was buried deep inside her in a way that the two students had been rusticated for and he was encouraging Susan to enjoy herself at the same time; while in Felicia’s room, she was finally realising that she was bringing her own mother to the same extreme.

“AHHH!! OH YES!” Simon shouted out loud, unable to control himself as his stream of semen was pushed into his wife’s tight backside.

“Ohhhhhh!!!!ooooooo!” Susan responded thirty seconds later as her fingering action brought her to the climax she wanted.

“AGGGGHHHHHHH FUCK YES!” Marjorie Emily shouted very loudly as her daughter’s caresses from behind were added to by her hand at the front. Felicia spoke loudly that her mother should be quieter. Her shouts were not unheard next door. She wasn’t sure where the expletive came from, it was not language she would normally use, so perhaps it could be excused for the extremity of feeling caused by the orgasm. Certainly Simon would have ignored it. But Marjorie was ashamed at what she had shouted, in front of her daughter too! At dinner that evening she suggested quietly to Simon that she needed more correction. By that time her daughter had taken the late afternoon quiet time to discover what her mother had done, and had also found a crescendo of feelings and was delighted with the slippery wetness of her fingers after. She licked them again – for she had tasted her fingers after her mother’s climax and confirmed it was definitely not the soothing lotion. Now she knew it was made by her own body. She knew such touching was frowned upon by good people, she would need more correction as well.