The Wards of Harwell Tusker
Copyright© 2012 by Freddie Clegg
Chapter 3: Sponsorship
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 3: Sponsorship - In the second Victorian era, a father despairs of the behaviour of his two wards. How can they ever be made ready for marriage? A BDSM - steam punk romance. A sequel to "The Adjustment of Nicola James"
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Coercion Slavery Fiction BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation
The conundrum I faced was two-fold. There was, of course, the matter that I wished to be suitably rewarded for the efforts that the project would undoubtedly require. Although I enjoy my work, it is, nevertheless, the way by which I make my living and it has always been my view that a fair day's work deserves a fair day's pay.
The second problem was the issue of fairness to my other clients. Without exception, they make a substantial investment in my services, staking a significant part of their future wealth on the delivery of a life partner entirely able to support them. To provide my services for Harwell Tusker without some similar arrangement would be a betrayal of those I had helped in the past.
Slowly, the bones of a proposition began to form in my mind. My thoughts turned to Brankston Tusker, Harwell's unfortunate brother. He was, I recalled, an experienced and capable engineer. As such, he was a member of a profession whose practitioners had both the means and the need to take advantage of my services. Perhaps, I thought, rather than an individual commission, I could convince the Institute of Practicing Engineers that a speculative investment on behalf of their members would be of value to the Institute. Perhaps it would even be a fitting memorial for one of their members or some inducement for their younger members? In any event, it was clear that I had a way forward. I would suggest that Harwell and I should call on the President of the Institute.
I was keen to put my thoughts into action at the earliest possible opportunity, but in order to do so I needed time at my writing desk without the danger of distraction. It is not often that I put my own needs ahead of those of my trainees, but I must confess that I did so on this occasion. Arianna should really have spent the evening in coming to appreciate the delights of my mechanical stimulator. However, I really did not have the time or attention needed to make a success of the encounter. Instead, when she presented herself for the evening, I took the opportunity to give myself the quiet that thinking required.
Arianna was dressed in a simple outfit designed to make easy those acts of punishment and penetration that were currently such a feature of her existence. A loose, off-the-shoulder blouse recalled the dress of those peasants of central Europe and provided simple access to her breasts should I require it. Her black, embroidered, peasant skirt, knee-length, full, circular and gathered tightly at the waist could be easily pulled up to give access to her sexual parts. "Good evening, Sir," she said, anticipating some task or other.
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