Chapter 3: Just Desserts

Mrs. Dalrymple stalked into Corky's room. "Margaret Dalrymple," she demanded, "just what do you think you are doing to that poor young man!"

"Nothing, mother," Maggie said sheepishly.

"Nothing? Nothing? You call being naked on top of Mr. Brandywine with his prick inside your cunt nothing?"

"Nude, mother," Maggie corrected her.

Mrs. Dalrymple sniffed scornfully. "Naked, as I said, on top of Mr. Brandywine, with his prick in your cunt, and your clothes strewn about his room."

"They're neatly folded," Maggie protested.

"Well, folded, at any rate," Mrs. Dalrymple conceded.

Maggie started to climb off of Corky, and his softening member slipped out of her tender folds. Mrs. Dalrymple slapped her daughters broad white bottom with a loud CRACK. "Stay right there, young lady! I'm not through with you yet, rest assured. Under what circumstances did I tell you you could fuck Mr. Brandywine today?" she demanded.

"None at all?"

"Correct! Since your memory seems to be in such excellent working order, perhaps you could reiterate for me what my precise instructions were?"

Corky, still lying beneath his model, was apparently being ignored for the time being by both parties. Though this seemed preferable to the imaginable alternatives, it can not be said that he was comfortable with the situation at hand.

"You... you said I could play with Mr. Brandywine, and show him my bubbies-"

"Bosom," corrected her mother.

"My bosoms, but I-"

"Bosom," corrected her mother once again."

"My bosom, but I was'n't to let him spend."

"And?"

"And... I was'n't to fuck him under any circumstances."

"And?"

And... and I suppose we got rather carried away."

"I suppose you did! And now you're going to pay for it." And she began to land sharp open-handed blows on her daughter's exposed bum-cheeks. Maggie yelped at each smack, and wriggled her hips in a manner that Corky found distressingly pleasurable. As mortified as he was by his current position, another cock-stand could only serve to make the situation worse.

"Oh, oh, oh! Mother!" Maggie cried, as she bounced and shook, fruitlessly trying to avoid the stinging blows. "Could... could Mr. Brandywine punish me instead."

"Oh, he'll get his chance," Mrs. Dalrymple replied, punctuating each word with another smack to her daughter's wriggling bottom. "You disobeyed me and you're paying for it now. You were disrespectful to our new boarder, and no doubt he'll want to give you a piece of his mind for that later."

"Oh, oh, Momma, please I- Oh!" cried Maggie incoherently, one arm wrapped about Corky's torso, the other buried between her raised thighs, her flushed face pressed against his chest, her bottom elevated to receive its proper punishment. "Oh, hold me, Mr. Brandywine!"

Corky gingerly put his arm about the girl and gently stroked her hair as she sobbed and groaned against him. And still the sharp and stinging blows came. Eventually, he was on the very verge of speaking up to protest Maggie's harsh treatment when the spanking ceased, and Mrs. Dalrymple took a step back, rubbing one stinging palm with the other, her countenance flushed and her eyes sparkling.

Maggie sobbed into Corky's chest a moment more before looking up at her mother, who said, in a somewhat gentler tone, "Now clean Mr. Brandywine off, Maggie, and we'll be on our way."

Sniffling a little, Maggie reached for the discarded washcloth. "Not that way," her mother said quietly. Maggie turned herself perpendicular to Corky's recumbent form. As he realized what was about to transpire, Corky finally found his voice.

"Mrs. Dalrymple, this really isn't nec-"

"Now, William, Maggie has behaved quite shamefully toward you, and you really must allow her to begin to make amends. It will only take a few moments."

Meanwhile, Maggie was pulling Corky's legs apart and lifting his cods, to get at their underside. She glanced up at her mother and the bent down and began lapping at the skin of Corky's scrotum, damp with rivulets of their combined fluids. Her hot little tongue worked at the mixture with apparent eagerness, sending exquisite little tingles up his spine.

"Oh my goodness!" he cried, as she moved upward, running her delicate little mouth along the sticky base of his rapidly-thickening member, as her mother looked on approvingly. She steadied the swollen head with her fingertips to prevent its wild twitching as she ran her pointed little tongue around the rim. She took the very tip into her mouth and sucked, her cheeks hollowing, her eyes stealing glances at Corky's flushed and startled face as she plied her skills.

Then she buried her face in his crotch once more, running her tongue along the base, as her hand tugged rhythmically at Corky's straining tool. His hips bobbed uncontrollably at the sensation of her hand and tongue, and her head moved to follow his motions.

He groaned and shut his eyes as her rubbing accelerated, and she murmured in return, her brows knitting as his excitement communicated itself to her.

Suddenly with a yelp she was off him. Corky opened his eyes and found that Mrs. Dalrymple had seized her daughter by the ear and hauled her off of the bed. Suddenly painfully aware of his exceptionally compromising position, he failed to note the exquisite contrast of the two females, one fully clad, eyes flashing, the very image of feminine authority; the other nude, back arched and bosom outthrust from her mother's firm grip on her ear, thighs glistening with fluid, beseeching eyes turned to her mother's stern but delicate features.

"I think your task is complete, dear," said Mrs. Dalrymple. "And you do'n't want to waste Mr. Brandywine's time, do you? Now gather your clothes, and be off to your room. I'm not quite finished with you yet."

Maggie snatched up her garments and scurried out of the room, her reddened bottom showing brightly for an instant as she passed through the doorway.

There was a moment's quiet. Corky snatched up a pillow and held it over his exposed genitals, still shining with Maggie's saliva. He attempted to arrange himself so that his entire lower half would be hidden behind the pillow, meeting with little success.

Mrs. Dalrymple sat down on the bed, and said, with melting eyes, "I am terribly sorry, William. That certainly wasn't supposed to happen nearly so soon."

"So, so, so soon?"

"Certainly," Mrs. Dalrymple assured him. "I'd imagined when you took Maggie for the first time, it could be a special moment for all of us-a private little ceremony, the four of us holding hands as you eased your dear prick into her cunny." She sighed wistfully, "Well, we don't always get what we want, do we? It's the way of the world. And a woman's task is to make the best of the situation she finds herself in." She brightened considerably. "You'll simply have to take her bottom-hole instead. That should make for a memorable evening, don't you think?"

"Her, her, her bah..."

"I'm terribly sorry, William. You must be positively exhausted. I must let you rest up before dinner. Afterwards, Beatrice can play the piano for us, and you can take a hairbrush to Maggie's wicked little posterior. What do you say?"

"Mrs. Dalrymple, I really can't-" Corky began nervously.

"You do disapprove of Maggie's imposition on your good nature, do'n't you?"

"Well, well, well, yes!" Corky answered.

"And you would'n't want her to do it again, I'm sure?" she asked, with a hint of a smile.

"Well, no."

"Then you must demonstrate that you are not a man to be trifled with, you understand?"

Corky nodded hesitantly.

"You must show her that you are firm! Resolute! Do you want Maggie to grow up thinking men are playthings that can be toyed with and manipulated?"

"Certainly not!" Corky said with more vigor.

"Then you must show her the natural authority of the male! You must teach her the respect, nay, the reverence that is a gentleman's due! And you must do it tonight"

"I'll do it!" Corky cried, inflamed by his landlady's inspiring words.

"Excellent, William, excellent. After dinner, then." And she kissed him warmly on the lips, and strode out of the room.

Dinner was a rather quiet affair. Maggie was uncharacteristically subdued, shifting uncomfortably in her seat a great deal, but keeping her moist eyes primarily on the plate before her. Mrs. Dalrymple politely quizzed Corky on his University experiences, interrupting herself occasionally to urge Beatrice to chew with her mouth closed or Maggie to keep her elbows off the table.

After the cheese tray had been put away, they retired to the parlor. Beatrice sat down at the pianoforte bench. "Perhaps something German tonight, Beatrice," suggested Mrs. Dalrymple. "Something with Sturm und Drang," carefully enunciating the foreign words.

Beatrice began to play. Maggie and Corky stood about nervously, waiting for Mrs. Dalrymple to direct them.

"Now, lie across the divan, dear," said Mrs. Dalrymple to Maggie. "Let me help you with your skirts."

In a moment, Maggie was kneeling on the floor, her shoulders supported by the divan, her skirts bunched around her waist, her head bowed. Her mother sat beside her, parting her drawers to expose her plump cheeks, still blotched pink from the afternoon's hand-spanking.

The sight of the girls rosy posterior galvanized Corky into sppech. "Mrs. Dalrymple," he croaked, "I've changed my mind."

"What?"

"I'm not going to spank Margaret. It's, it's, it's not right, and it's not decent."

"But William-" Mrs. Dalrymple began, when Maggie interrupted her.

Voice a little muffled by her inverted position, she said, "But I want you to spank me, Mr. Brandywine. Wasn't I awfully cruel teasing you like that this afternoon?" She wiggled her hips indecently at him. "Don't you want to give my naughty little bottom what it deserves?"