“Good day Uncle”
“Felicity, my dear. What a delight. I was just about to take a stroll to the rose gardens; are you fatigued by the journey or would you care to accompany me? The scent is particularly delightful at this time of day”
“Excellent idea Uncle Robert”
So began the most exciting part of my life. I should introduce myself. Lord Robert Perception Devises of Cordley; that’s my full name and title. I’m the second son of the 15th Baron Cordley. My younger brother died fighting the Waziris, he figures little in this narrative not because he was unloved; if anything he was the more lovable of the three of us brothers, but his proclivities meant he was never likely to begat an heir and since he died several years ago that permanently put paid to any speculation of his sexual preferences or his likelihood to overcome them.
My elder brother became Baron Cordley on the death of our father in 1809. He was always destined to inherit and we are an unusual family (as you will learn) in many ways, including how companionable we remained, even after our brother inherited the title, the estates and the money. Nigel joined the Royal Pioneers and volunteered to go to Waziristan. I joined the Duke of Borsetshires Own and fought (though I say so myself) with some distinction against the American Upstarts, the French, and (a lesser known contretemps, which so far has thankfully avoided the histories) the Swedes at Gulam. I retired two years ago as a full colonel and my brother gave me one of the rather ornate gatehouses to live in.
When Baron Richard died last year, I succeeded to the title as he had only sired a single girl child. The deeds of our estate and title were laid down by William Rufus. They clearly state that they may only be inherited by a male heir else they are resorbed by the crown. The story goes that William II was hunting when his horse went lame. He offered a title to the first person to give him a new horse and our ancestor was the first to come forward. Since he was fifty two at the time (a ripe age in those days, though as a fifty five year old myself I think it quite young now), William imposed some rules to the inheritance which he thought guaranteed it would be short-lived. Lord Robert (the first Baron Cordley) quickly made a match with a young, buxom serving girl who produced five fine sons before she expired before him of ‘the dropsy’ whatever that may be. So the line was established and flourished, waxed and waned through history.
That’s all the history you need.
“Uncle, you of course are aware of the limitations to the inheritance.” I nodded, it wasn’t a question, but some response seemed appropriate “I had some lawyers look at them, not the family ones, Baker, Strew and Gambit”
“Aren’t they rather, arrh, how to put it?”
“Pushy? Hungry for success? Yes, that’s why I consulted them. I thought they might see a way round the problem. Not to disinherit you, but to enable the line to continue”
“Nothing, the title can only be inherited by a legitimate male heir, and the lands follow the title”
“Uncle, you have to marry and have an heir”
“Easier stated than achieved. I’m not the best catch in the world. Who would have me?”
“True, no worthy first born daughters would look at you”
“Thank you my dear, don’t sugar the almond will you?”
“This is too important to beat round the bushes, we have to be blunt, and flush the game or lose the candle”
“An unusual mixed metaphor, but I know you have the family’s best interests at heart, continue”
“There are plenty of second and third daughters of good families who would welcome avoiding becoming governesses. Peter” (Peter is her husband, not the brightest, but good at business) “Peter says there are plenty of rich businessmen’s daughters who would welcome a title too”
“But how to find them”
“Well, don’t be angry. I have made some discreet enquiries”
“You mean about the children I begat abroad? I did think of looking for them but it is hopeless; they have been flung to the four winds by now”
“No uncle. I did wonder about those; but, as you say, they have vanished back into the melting pots of our empire I’m sorry to say. An exotic skinned heir might be just what the family needs to buck us up. No offence sir”
“None taken. It does seem that our ability to liaise with the opposing gender has weakened in the recent times; but, pray tell, what enquiries could you be meaning then?”
“I broached the subject with numerous families without being too explicit and found some candidates for your bride”
I could only listen in admiration. Felicity would have made an excellent Quartermaster General, she plans, she investigates, she plans some more.
“I narrowed it down to seven young ladies, all of good family, polite, well-bred and, I believe, of the type of looks that you prefer”
I wondered how she knew, I thought of myself as having eclectic tastes, a pretty face, good bosom, attractive behind and straight legs. A brain was not always required if the looks were above average. I have been known to avail myself of young ladies from the theatre on occasion; but they know how to avoid getting with child.
“So I have to choose between these seven?” I said
“Not exactly uncle. I hit a problem. How to decide if they would produce an heir? A male heir. Dear Ma and Pa only managed one, and that a girl. What if this happened again? I chanced upon a story in one of the Greek plays. Lysandria by Cleops. Do you know it?”
“I confess, my dear, soldiering does not leave much time for obscure classical writers. Enlighten me”
“Lysandria is one of four sisters. Before they were born, their father promises his daughter to the future king of Pimento. When he dies he has not said which daughter. They decide on a test, whoever can make the king happiest in bed in one night will be his bride.”
“Well, the rest is not important”
“What happens? You cannot leave such a delightful plot unexplained.”
“The king is overcome by his passions and on the fourth night he dies of overindulgence, leaving the kingdom to be ruled by the four girls; but that isn’t the part that gave me the idea. What if” and here she paused and smiled “what if the girls similarly allowed themselves for trial, so to speak. And the first one to become with child would become your wife?”
“Preposterous” I remonstrated, yet I knew that she was telling me this for a reason
“Five of the girls accepted, as did their mothers. In answer to your question, the one you haven’t asked, the fathers would agree if they knew; younger daughters are simply a drain on the resources to be invested in marrying the boys and older daughter well”
“Are you really serious?”
“With your permission the young ladies will arrive at your invitation in one month’s time. Ostensibly for discussions; but their mothers will all find last minute reasons why they cannot accompany their daughters. And their daughters will stay as long as needed”
“In your play the king dies”
“But you are tougher than that uncle. And even if you’re not,” she gave the most innocent of smiles “it would be a most pleasurable way to discover that fact would it not?”
I had to agree, a most interesting proposition. So one month later my lovely niece travelled up the drive from the lodge (for I gave her my old house when I inherited the mansion) to act as hostess for the young ‘contestants’. They arrived by carriage through the day, each bearing a letter from their mother explaining that they had been called away at the last minute. The girls looked variously nervous, enthused or bored. I was surprised by this last, a lady with beautiful long blonde hair, slim, well made and intelligent looking; but decidedly less than enthusiastic; still, as long as she’ll deal the cards I thought, I’ll play with the hand.
Felicity made the young women welcome and they were shown to their rooms, five rooms adjoining each other on the East Wing, a wing normally empty these days so no servants were occupied there. The girls would therefore be private during their stay.
It is a truism that, whether they are in the room or no, servants always know what the goings on in big house amount to, and the smiles from the female servants clearly showed that they were aware of what was afoot. One footman made so bold as to smirk and was dismissed immediately for lack of respect, when I heard I ensured he was re-employed but he had learned his lesson no doubt.
“Ladies” Felicity called them together in the Drawing Room. I know I should not, it was undignified, but I listened from the Library. The false door in the Drawing Room actually backs onto a small private room in the Library where some of the more special books and art are kept; including a cartoon by Leonardo De Vinci, one of Shakepeare’s plays in his own handwriting, a book of erotic pictures and the signed autobiography of Lady Lucinda “My life as a Harem Slave”. In that room it is easy to hear everything in the next room.
“Ladies, we all know why we, well, you, are here. My uncle needs an heir, and a wife; the first to be with child will marry him. I put your names in a hat and picked them out in order to allocate the rooms. Uncle will visit each in order, one per night.
One further point my dears. My uncle is not a young man” I shuddered, she was going to tell them to go easy on me to avoid the fate of king whats-his-name “so he may need especial encouragement if you wish to receive his services more than once in the evening. I hope I’m being clear enough”
One of the ladies piped up “You mean we might have to tell him we are ready to receive him again?”
Another “No, she means” and then the voice went ‘sotto voce’ as she whispered the bawdy truth (for I at least understood Felicity’s meaning and began to look forward to these nights of passion). There was a muffled gasp but no more; it was clear none were so shocked as to be non-runners, so to speak.
My niece really had allocated the rooms without fear or favour. The first room was occupied by the daughter of what might be called an ‘arriviste’. The father had made his money in fur or somesuch; he sent his son to Oxford, his eldest daughter was to be married to an earl’s son (that family needed an injection of cash to stay living in the manner to which they were accustomed). A mere baron for the second daughter might seem a comedown, but we were very old-established, very respectable, and (perhaps more importantly) very financially stable. No need of a liquidity injection, we held what we had, and added to it slowly and carefully. That was almost the family motto (“Tribuo absentis nusquam”).
I arrived at the appointed hour, when servants were asleep (probably with each other), though they were quite aware of what was going on.
Cynthia was shy, solid, not fat, just not a skinny rake of a thing. Good bones; and good child-bearing hips. She was already in her night wear in bed and watched, seemingly unflustered as I undressed. I’m not young, but I am fit, not run to seed. About to put my nightshirt on, I thought better of it and walked naked and increasingly priapic towards the young woman who was watching me.
I bent to kiss her and she barely returned the kiss
“Come my dear, not cold feet surely?”
“No, may we just achieve what we have to?” Perhaps this was the one who didn’t understand about ‘encouragement’. “I just want you to do it, then we can sleep”
“You, umm? You want me to take your maidenhood with little preamble?”
“I’ll do my duty”
“I’m not sure that’s enough”
“Surely you would enjoy forcing your way into my untouched byways? I thought soldiers did that all the time”
“Not me, I’ve never forced a girl against her will”
“Well, I’m willing, just not willing to wait for hours”
Thus reassured, in a sense, I proceeded in methodical and military fashion to invade the territory. Sliding her nightdress up her body, I took time to admire the firm, rounded thighs that led towards the place to which I should lay siege. Or not, since it had already thrown itself open to full occupation. Yet, recognising that (for me at least) expectation is part of the pleasure, I delayed the triumphal entry to raise her light cotton covering up to her armpits. Her full and impressive breasts were exposed to my decidedly lascivious view and, if the nipples were an indication, she was telling the truth in stating that she was not particularly excited at the prospect of the loss of her virginity.
I thrust my mouth onto the soft tissue at the centre of her red and bold areola, and commenced not just sucking but nibbling at it. True to form it rose into prominence and the other did so in sympathy. Whether because she was excited by this assault or no I cared not. I wanted prominent nipples and felt that a barony (or the fifth chance of one) was at least worth that. As I continued my rough wooing of her breasts, my hand began to fondle her outer lips in a no less rough manner. Since she stated she was not intending to enjoy the experience I felt I might as well take her at her word and ravage her as if she was a prize of war, to be used, abused and discarded after use.
My fingers opened her outer labia and pushed roughly past the inner lips, my longest finger now penetrating her vagina; a yelp of pain from her (and a slight barrier to progress) confirmed the fact of her virginity. Now my blood was up, as, unmistakedly, was my member.
Taking no prisoners I began the invasion of her personal space between her legs. I knew she was ill-prepared for the assault but chose to ignore the realities and focus on what she had said. “I just want you to do it”. Well then, I would. I thrust into her with force and little consideration, using her as I might a prostitute who was used to male impetuosity.
She gasped a few times as my penis opened her further and my weight landed on her at the thrust peak. At the hymenal entrance I had not stopped but simply rammed my way through, covering her mouth to stifle the scream I felt she would probably make. Now I was mad for it. Mad for her. Mad for the satiating of the animal lust she had awakened by saying “Just do it”. My thrusts were rough, harsh and long; each one enjoying new, untouched space until I was entirely in and still pushing with a kind of manic desire to reach orgasm but also to (and later I admitted this with a little shame to myself) hurt her. Did the pain entice and excite her to become sexually engorged? It is impossible to tell at this distance in time and space, and since I cared little at that moment, it is perhaps irrelevant.
At last the moment came; I felt my body stiffen, almost as if I was somehow not of it myself. My loins contracted and sent my cum spirting into her in a series of waves that lessened by stages; and then I was expended and tired. Within minutes I was asleep on top of her; and too heavy to heave off. Half of an hour later I awoke and removed myself from inside and on top of her. But as I slid to the side I murmured that I would be ready again soon, at least I hoped so. The night was just beginning.
She would have got up and cleaned her nether regions had I let her; but I would not. I wanted her leaking and smelling of male spunk and female sweat and pee (for my ministrations had made her lose a little control). I pulled her hand down to the region of impropriety between her legs, smearing her fingers with the mixture of fluids before making her suck her fingers.
“I think my dear you had better be prepared that to achieve a third assault we may need your lips to encourage me down below”
“You’ve only been at me once sir, not twice” She clearly thought me an ancient old goat
“I know, this next time will be twice, then in the morning you’ll have to suck me to start me going. I’m simply giving you prior warning of what shall take place”
With that I rolled onto her yielding body and rammed my hardening sword into her sheath. She gasped with pain and surprise, to be assailed so, again. As I reached full length I was already making great strides up her tightened channel, which I made more tight by opening my legs beyond hers and then closing them, forcing her legs shut too. Had I the time that night I would have taken her arse too, though how that would have helped her get pregnant is anyone’s guess. Instead I assailed that other hole with a judicious, exploring finger. Wiggling my finger made her pelvis move in quite delightful fashions and I soon expended again, to my immense relief, and hers too I suspected for her worn vagina was in no-wit welcoming of this second visit.
Blessed Mab visited us both after we had each found it necessary to answer Nature’s call. I knew she used the arse rag to wipe herself a little cleaner, I didn’t object this time.
The cock crowed a welcome to the morning and I awoke refreshed, she awoke looking worn, hair all disarrayed, her nightgown pulled down but stained and smelling of the night’s exudations.
I smiled “Do you remember our conversation last night?”
“I’m not likely to forget any of these events sir, you have used me as an farm animal –”
“At your invitation, madam! And now I would remind you of my need for a little encouragement”
“I shall not behave like some common whore!”
“As you wish, just remember, the more lusty spunk “ she winced at the crudery “I give you, the more likely are you to win the race”
At this she found her senses and reluctantly followed my instructions on approaching my groin with her beautiful mouth. In truth I was already approaching full extension, but I was looking forward to her sucking me. I could have happily come into her mouth, holding her head to me to prevent escape; but the aim of the game was pregnancy and she would not get with child with a mouthful.
After some few minutes of great pleasure with her tongue on my tip I bade her prepare to receive me again. I pulled off the obscuring gown and as she lay down on her back I took her no less roughly than before; taking no note of the whimpers of pain that escaped her. I found a surprisingly resurgent font of semen spouted into her and felt myself gasping for breath, this last was a good feeling of drowning rather than the drowning I had nearly experienced in the Wamdigoo while crossing the River Wi-De. There I had swallowed half the river and was lucky to hit a sandbank. I would happily have made her swallow my river, but that was not the deal.
She was sore, I was exhausted. I left her to wash and clean up, and returned to my own bed for a couple more hours sleep.
Lady Arrabella Rose Saint-Michael Le Blane had, it transpired, nearly become a nun. She was so demure she peed with her eyes shut so as not to see her lady-bits down below. I also heard later that she bathed in a linen shift for the same reason. She studiously avoided knowing anything about the conjugation of male and female; even being embarrassed at what bees do to pollinate flowers.
So why, I wondered had she agreed to such a base and lewd trial?
“I am twenty-five sir. If I am not to find a vocation I need to find a husband else I will be left childless and loveless”
“Twenty five is hardly old my dear. Why I’m fifty-”
“But you can still sire children at that age. Soon people will pass me over as...” she stopped, realising she was talking her way out of the competition.
“You are young, beautiful and intensely desirable, I hope you win my dear”
She gave a little curtsey and looked towards the bed, unsure of what to do next.
“Would it make it easier if I took the lead entirely and told you what to do?” I asked
“Thank you my lord” she actually looked relieved to be agreeing to me telling her exactly what I wanted her to do to please me.
Was it really possible for someone to reach the first quarter century and be entirely ignorant of the procreation process? How had she avoided seeing animals I wondered? Later it transpired that she had been actively shielded from such lewd behaviour. The occasional massive horse dick had been explained away as an ailment that was soon treatable (and since the horse appeared ‘cured’ the next day she accepted this explanation).
Here then was a woman willing to do anything ‘normal’ to get with child, without in any way knowing what ‘normal’ constituted. I explained that the tradition is that a woman has to undress her man to complete nakedness. As she addressed this task with care she took little interest in the erection that misshaped my clothes and then later got in the way as she removed my lower garments; could she have only a little idea of its purpose!
“There are some essential activities that must encourage a man to take part in correspondence with a woman with any hope of success. The ‘lever’ that you see between my legs must be encouraged and lubricated; the most convenient way is to wipe your saliva on it. In a short while she concluded that rather than licking her hand and wiping it on my cock, she would be better with direct transmission, and she took at least the end third into her mouth. Ecstasy! Her assiduous and enthusiastic ministrations had my soldier standing to very stiff attention. I encouraged her to take as much into her willing mouth as possible (and had to resist the temptation to ram it home in a manner which would have choked her and spoiled the moment).
As I stood naked before her, she kneeling before me and acquiring more and more of my solid phallus into her mouth, I found the temptation to let fly nearly too great to bear. I brought all the tricks I had learnt in India to the fore and resisted. Her hands held my legs to steady herself, I took a hand and passed it round to my arse, encouraging her to stroke my crack and then with both hands to open my buttocks a little and explore the small round eye inside. At my suggestion a finger from each hand made a tentative exploration of this inner sanctum. Only up to the first joint, but it was plenty to give me unbridled pleasure at being ravaged a little as I would like to ravage her.
I found myself wondering at what stage her credibility would run out.
“It is essential for ensuring good conception that my body should be attuned to yours, to achieve this simply it has been found worthwhile for you to share your fluids with me as I shall later with you”
“Of course sir” She clearly had no idea what I meant.
Pulling her to her feet I bent and kissed her fully on the lips that had so recently been wrapped around my member. I broke off and asked her to open her mouth that I might explore her with my tongue and then she explore me. Then we set to again, kissing in as frank a way as an experienced doxy of my past acquaintance had done for money. She was surprised to feel my tongue explore her teeth and the roof of her mouth but she responded with no less vigorousness.
Now I Iay back on the bed and bade her sit astride me. She sat on my chest and I pulled her higher up to her surprise; she no doubt thinking that her nethers would be of an unattractive nature to my face. Now my tongue and lips began to explore her front, that cushiony slit of flaps and fur that constitutes the ultimate pleasure a man (and a woman hopefully) can discover. She stiffened, surprised, as she discovered a little more what was expected of a lady to achieve conception. I was pleased to discover that the events so far had had the desired impact of encouraging her inner temple to exude the lubrication that would ensure free entry to me as we proceeded. She tasted, as all women do, of something like fish. I like fish in all its guises and I like the taste of a woman’s cunt juice no less. Her skirts still covered her body entirely and therefore also my face was entirely enveloped in her many layers of virginal clothing.
Muffled by the clothing, she did not at first respond to my next request
“You must pee my dear”
“I misheard you sir, what did you say?”
Pulling back her skirts I repeated my order. Her face clearly said I had found where her limit was. But I was in a strong position to ensure this last was achieved. My fingers entered her far enough to press her bladder and, before she could remove herself (though I found no indication she was starting to do so; perhaps she simply needed me to impose this on her) her pee hole opened and began a small fountain of urine onto my face. Only daylight to see this act would have made it more enticing. I licked her cunt and then licked my face. Why should pee turn me on? Something that happened in India which I haven’t time to dwell on in this narrative made me realise the erotic charms of a woman’s pee.
I slid her back to where my priapic dick was getting impatient.
“Now is the time, and here,” my fingers found her fanny “the place”.
She was confused, she was sitting above me and had always thought congress was achieved, or imposed, somehow, by the man. I explained that there were multifarious positions and that this one was one such which gave her more control and more responsibility. She it was who had to bring me to coitus rather than me taking it.
Opening her minge with my fingers caused her to lift herself away from my prying digits; a desirable result to allow my rod to achieve the correct angle for entry. Then I bade her allow herself to drop onto the pinion that would remove her virginal cherry. Uncomfortable and unwilling she kept her thighs tense and her body off the bed, a position I felt certain she could not keep for long. Sure enough slowly her muscles tired and she slowly sank, little by little, onto me and I into her. Her thin skin protection stretched and accommodated this slow entrance. It would tear only later when the thrusting began. Her tight but thankfully lubricaceous vagina was wedged open, the opening to paradise. She jumped at one point, finding her passage too tight and concluded that she had taken me in all the way it was possible to.
“Now sir, you must impregnate me, that is your side of this unholy bargain”
“Not so, we are not halfway in. I am nothing loath to expend in you, rest assured, but your virginity is yet to be fully popped. Drop hard and you will find pain and pleasure in equal measure await” (I suspected that all the pain would be hers and, this first night, all the pleasure mine; but there was no need to explain that).
She hesitated and in that second I grabbed her waist and thrust my mid region upwards. Her hymen, which had until then stretched at the entrance uncomfortably for her, but not broken, now split to the accompaniment of pained cries followed by tears and she sought to remove me from her cunt, which was dribbling a little blood now. Her struggles increased my ardour and that in turn increased her struggles; each writhing brought fresh pleasure to my loins until the friction brought the inevitable release. She was still shocked, even at this stage, to realise that the pumped white fluid that filled her inner space was what this ceremony was designed to achieve.
I bade her sit further on me and unlaced her bodice. As she sat, motionless I freed her breasts from the restriction and required her to remove her arms from the dress. She had perfect shaped bosoms. An artist’s delight of curves, slight concave above, convex below culminating in a delightful red circle where the curves came together. Greedily I felt them, caressed them and brought her down to me so that I might nibble the nipples.
“I hope you achieve motherhood in my company so I may taste the milk from these pure white dugs my lady”
She coloured most wonderfully at the thought of breast feeding me with yet more exudates of her body. Her lower regions still covered she did not see, but possibly felt me slip out of her recess. Now nature took its course and I found I needed to make water. I had no wish to lose my place. She, it seemed also had needs. As we lay on she tightened her loins in an effort to stop the inevitable loss of urine as it became desperate. Still I would not release her.
Finally, as she found herself barely able to contain it, my roving fingers once more entered her and pushed against her bladder, her pee cascaded onto my legs and the bed. At that moment I too let rip and sent a fountain of yellow piss to soak her undergarments.
There was little choice now but to divest herself of her clothing. Attempting to un-clothe herself without revealing her cunny she stood away from the bed while I watched her bottom slowly revealed from beneath its camouflage. It was as I predicted, a most well shaped affair. I ordered her to lift her arms and slowly rotate that I might see all. Her legs were flecked with blood and other fluids but her shape was one of near perfection.
We entered the bed together and later I once again disabused her of her innocence, this time in the more conventional position that found her trapped beneath me and unable to resist the thrusts of my urgent desire.
Miss Sarah. I didn’t, I confess, at this time even know her family name. When I entered she was sitting on the bed crying. Not a very auspicious start to this night of supposed pleasure.
It transpired that her tears were for the wrong she was about to do.
“You are not being forced Sarah. I would not for my life force a girl that was not willing”
“But I must, I know. I am willing. But I know it to be so wrong yet ... yet I wish to proceed, and that distresses me greatly”
We talked around this conundrum. It was not that she was unwilling, as she said, she was most willing to give her all; but the fact that she was willing to do so caused her distress as it meant she was a sinful woman in contemplating these acts.
“Would it help if you were punished a little?”
Her face lit up “Would you sir? I would feel much more agreeable if I was punished for my evil thoughts and was unable to resist the actions that are to happen”
When I was young – 12 perhaps – I was staying in a relative’s country home when one of the young maids committed some act; broke a plate or swore or some equally trivial misdemeanour, the crime is unimportant. It was my wont to explore the lower reaches of the house and I came upon her being held down by two other maids while a footman delivered blows to her naked bottom with a carpet beater. I stayed absolutely silent and was unobserved and found the whole event very arousing. It was that event I think that made me start on the road to discover my sexuality in all its perverseness (which my posting as a subaltern to India did much to encourage). Here, now, I was being encouraged to indulge in my earliest form of fantasy.
It took us little time to become as Adam and Eve; still she encouraged me to punish her
“Most severely if you please” she said “for the acts we are to commit are very bad, so the punishment must be appropriate to the crime”
I could not feel that a night’s pleasure with a dainty bird was such a crime, but I was ever willing to comply. Wondering if her idea of severe equated to mine, I resolved to start more lightly than my desire had my fantasy thinking.
A few minutes later found her tied with her own hosiery face down on the bed, her arms and legs stretched in a rough star shape pointing to the four corners. Her buttocks visibly quivered in expectation and so I began remonstrating with her bottom using my hand. Her cheeks went a delicate pink under the instruction, and I stopped after a time with a stinging hand.
“Sir, I hope you haven’t finished?” Truly she did mean severely!
I took up her hair brush now and laid about her fleshy parts with vigour. Even when her bottom glowed red she asked for more, truly she believed mortifying the flesh in this way was a way to maintain her purity! I stopped, more and I would break her skin and possibly scar that pure, smooth arse.
An idea leapt unexpected into my head and I (putting on a robe) went quickly to me room and returned with my après-shave; a liquid that caused my naked cheeks and neck to sting mightily after my servant has shaved me. I splashed some on my hands and then smacked her buttocks again; she began to feel the stinging glow in seconds. Before she could say yay or nay I opened her buttocks to view that brown hole that women so often regard as out of bounds and inserted a finger similarly covered in my shaving liquid. Now she felt her nethers hot and stinging; like having stinging nettles inside you she said. Yet this was all for her! She was both mortified and delighted.
Now I was ready to take this girl. Clearly she would be mortified to enjoy such congress so I did not attempt to give her the pleasure that I knew such a perverted lady could have received. I found her opening and positioned myself at it and with some firmness began the steady entrance that would result in my orgasm. She was surprised at the tightness of her cunt. I was surprised that she was surprised for it indicated that she had had it open before. I discovered little hint of a virginal protection inside and began to wonder if I was not the first to follow this path. Yet, I thought, what of it? I have her now, and I have had the great pleasure of giving a pretty lady a good spanking. As I thought these erotic thoughts and ran over the view of the quivering bottom in my mind, I found my ardour overwhelming and thrust in harder and fast to the evident discomfort of Sarah and the great ecstatic pleasure of myself.
When I came I found again that I was able to deliver fully to her; I had wondered if I might go off the boil as the days went on, but no, it seemed that variety really added spice and spunk to my life.
I extracted myself and proceeded to her top half.
“You should clean me”
“I cannot, unless you untie me. Then I will willingly wash you”
“No, we haven’t finished the evening’s entertainments so I will keep you as you are, but open your mouth my dove”
She refused such a lewd request, and in response I held her nose, when she could hold her breath no more she opened her mouth for a gulp of air and I thrust my limp todger into her unwilling gob. Tied as she was her movement away was limited and my hand prevent her releasing my member from her face.
“Come, lick and suck it clean and then I will release you”
She did, having no option, as she was bade and after some few minutes I found this so much to my liking that I was stiff again.
So I returned to her leaking slit and re-entered for a second assault. It was longer and less was delivered but no less pleasurable for that. She moaned a little of being sore.
Still I did not release her instead I found myself drifting to sleep while still ensconced within. An hour later I awoke to find myself involuntarily achieving erection again. She was most surprised to find some magic beanstalk grow rapidly up inside her; but still even more discomforted for she was tight and sore now as I took my pleasure again. In truth this third time was a little painful even for me as I had little to give but when I fell exhausted beside her, yet still I felt I should not release her.
I held her thus captive all night and in the morn I found that after a good few hours rest I could indeed address the issue again. But she begged me no, I could see she was red and perhaps a little swollen from all the rough usage.
“Tell me true, was I your first?”
“Sir how can I answer?”
“With truth only, else I will know you are lying”
“I was once taken by another, but unwilling it was. The curate said I needed release from my euphoria and I did not realise his intent until it was too late”
“The dirty dog!” I said angrily, dissembling for I had used this argument once myself on a lady of my acquaintance. In that situation she had been most grateful; and most satisfied.
“Please sir, anything but another round in my parts, they are so sore and ill-used”
“Very well, since you offer any other means of relieving my pressure, I shall take you at your word”
Perhaps she thought I would approach her mouth again, she was wrong. Instead I inserted first one, then two fingers covered in her hand cream; into her inviting and accessible anus. At first she was unbelieving, then as I opened her more fully she acquiesced since there was nothing to be done to prevent this very personal violation. My erection was becoming insistent so perhaps I made the attack before she was open enough; but she was unable to prevent me taking this hole by force and that I did with a great eruption of grunts and delight from myself and an
“ohhhh! Oh! Ohhhhh! Please! Ohhhhh!” from her.
She begged me to tell no one. Which I have done since this memoir will not be published for 100 years after I die.
The next day I was informed that Lady March of March had had second thoughts and would be leaving. She was told that to be allowed to leave she had to do one thing – she had to stand naked in front of the 4 other girls, my niece and myself. This was not to cause her shame but to make it impossible for her to breathe any word of what went on, since we would all tell of her nakedness.
I was impressed and sorry not to have had that woman for she was statuesque. But I was also pleased to have a day off from the labours of Hercules that I had embarked on.
“Oh no Uncle, we’ve moved the last young lady forward”
Therefore this night brought two surprises. The first that I should be discovering a different woman to the one I had expected and second, well I had developed the clear impression that this last lady was the most willing, yet my niece told me she was insisting on total darkness in her room. She would be naked in the bed and ready to receive me and my precious fluids.
I was further directed to go to the original ‘night 4’ room for consistency. This seemed odd, but ladies are after all a foreign country to the likes of me; and if a horse receives its oats it is not concerned in which stable it receives them. If you grasp my meaning.
The room was, as promised, completely dark. A small thin voice called me to instruct me which direction to take and, upon finding the edge of the bed I divested myself rapidly; not least because the weather had turned a slight chilly and wished to warm myself on my naked bed companion.