“L… l… let me! Oh, I beg you!”
“Most certainly not, William. Your mind is clearly overheated with wicked visions. Sit still, I tell you, for I am removing my hand. We shall discourse upon your return. I shall expect to find you in as fine fettle then as I do now. Fasten your trousers lest you disgrace yourself. Would you present yourself to Clara so, should she return?”
“Wh… what imp… impossible thoughts you have, Julia!”
“And what nonsense you talk, dear William. How can they be impossible if I have uttered them? Logic should be arranged as neatly as cups and saucers on a dresser, should it not?”
“You b… b… bewitch me and dismay me and…”
“Excite you? Did you not believe me when I said that Sarah has a delicious bottom, and Clara as well?”
I crept away. My ears burned, my face was full flushed. Running up to my room I doused my face in clear cool water from the bowl upon my marble washstand. The laving of the water settled me a little. Not only had I heard but I had envisaged her stroking of him as she had stroked dear Robert. Her power it seemed was infinite, her sway upon Papa complete. Yet he had not admonished her for it as strongly as he might. Thus I realised and thus did I contemplate. He was but putty in her hands. There was but one ruler of the household now, and she the one whose lips I longed to taste. Would she know that I had listened? It seemed to me that she knew all. Upon coming to me later and seeing to my appearance, she gave no hint of it.
“Your Papa will depart in the morning. There will be visitors,” she said mysteriously.
“Are they nice?” I wished to ask, but the question would have sounded foolish.
“They are not known to you but soon will be, Clara, as also to your sister and brother. I have decided on a course other than I first set myself. I shall inculcate both you and Sarah by example.”
At that I pouted, for it seemed to me that she was treating me once more as a mere beginner. I told her then of my conversation with my sister in the bathroom, whereat her eyes shone.
“Do you think I take you for a sillikins, a muff? I know you not to be. You set the finest of examples. Better however for the moment that Sarah and Robert do not think us both in league. Though we are, are we not?”
“Oh yes! What will happen? Who are the visitors?”
“A young lady and her guardian, my dear. They come by close and secret invitation. She is not unlike Sarah in appearance, nor as I understand in her ways. Bertha will assist in all. I have but a week to prepare the maiden who is called Clarissa. Her guardian will say little to you. I wish you not to speak to him.”
“To keep him in his place?”
“How quick you are! You will not be dismayed by what you see, I know. Sarah may be difficult, but I will deal with her accordingly. If I have to deal with them together…” She paused, then added quietly, “It may be necessary, of course.”
“All right,” I said quickly and felt with an upsurge of excitement that she was in part seeking my permission.
“Very well, then. You know I will bring Sarah to no harm. It is for her good-and yours.”
“Yes,” I replied dutifully.
Sarah, of course, being all put out, would not speak to her and avoided dear Papa until the moment of his leaving which seemed to worry our stepmother not a whit. She had made herself look lovelier than ever in a cream gown of some daring deshabille with such a plunging neckline as almost made her nipples peek above the lace and caused a dull flush to appear on Robert’s cheeks at every wobbling of her tits. Of the visitors, she said nothing to my brother and sister and so their surprise was the greater when at precisely three that afternoon a carriage rolled up on the drive and there deposited them both.
All introductions being effected, I observed both closely. Clarissa had indeed the same figure as Sarah, though being even more patrician in features. Calm as she held herself I sensed her inner tensions as I did those of her guardian, a large quiet man of middling years whose voice ran deep upon the few occasions that he spoke. Clarissa looked slightly bewildered and sought to sit near Sarah, but my stepmother placed herself deftly between them and spoke of everything other than that which I guessed was on her mind.
Wine having been dispersed and drunk by all, my stepmother after half an hour rose, smoothed down her gown in such a manner that all eyes fastened on her and said to the guardian, whose name perhaps was Harold (for I have since learned that identities are oft disguised), “Shall we then go up?”
At that, Clarissa appeared to grip the arms of her chair but was gently prised into a standing position.
“My husband’s study will be best,” opined my stepmother who then led the way while Robert and Sarah sat in wonderment. I hesitated, but then in the doorway she turned to me. “You may come-as chaperone,” she laughed. Two pairs of eyes followed me as I went out. Clarissa cleared her throat. A faint flush appeared on her smooth cheeks and she gathered up her skirts delicately as we ascended. The door to the study being open, my stepmother led the way in and closed the door, giving me a nod as an indication that I should take my seat on a couch, which I did. The desk was of mahogany and a wide one. It was a room I entered rarely, for its bookshelves then interested me not, imposing as they looked.
“Clarissa, you look very sweet. Come and stand by me,” my stepmother said, seating herself in Papa’s chair which had a round back and swivelled all about.
Hesitantly the young woman did so and thus faced her guardian over the barrier of the desk. My stepmother then most unexpectedly looked across at me and asked, “When did I last cane you, Clara?”
“Oh, I-er-three days ago, or four perhaps,” I stumbled, having been caught quite unawares.
“Are you the better for it now?” I was asked. “Yes,” came out like a little bolting rabbit so that she laughed, half turned and looked up at Clarissa, asking, “And when were you?”
Clarissa blushed to her eyebrows. “Oh, I have not been!” she answered, shocked. My stepmother dotted, making a tut-tutting sound, and turning to Harold asked, “Have you not been lax with her?” As she spoke so she raised the arm that was just behind Clarissa, swept her hand up the backs of her thighs and gently tested the firm globe of her bottom so that the young woman jerked.
“I have-er-tried,” stammered her guardian.
“You have removed her drawers?”
The question came so smoothly that it seemed a long interval passed before Clarissa uttered a shocked “Oh!” and went more pink than ever.
“Do be quiet, please,” my stepmother urged her gently and then quite deliberately circled her hand about the girl’s bottom, feeling no doubt its warmth and silkiness.
“There… there were objections,” he stammered.
“From you? From you, Clarissa?” was uttered by my stepmother in astonishment. “Have you not let him put you over? Do you fear the cane? Would you prefer the birch or strap? Have you been mishandled? Is that the truth of it?”
“Madam I never…” began Harold but was quieted by a steely glance and the words, “She will answer for herself.” All the while her palm circled as if reverently and appeared to calm Clarissa a little though I would have sworn she wished to move.
“It is r… r… rude,” she stuttered and tried to gaze everywhere but at her guardian.
“Rude?” my stepmother echoed in amazement. “All young ladies-or at least those of comely forms and merit-must be put up to it and before your age. Come dear, let me see your drawers.”
“Oh, I beg you no. Not in front of him.”
A perfect flurry ensued. I sat as still as a stick insect which pretends to be a twig. Clarissa made a wild dash around the desk, my aunt crying “Hold her!” which her guardian did. Head down and back bent, she struggled fiercely, but his strength being much the greater and with a fierce flush of his excitement in his face he had her bent full over on the desk the while that my stepmother, getting up, gripped the nape on Clarissa’s neck in steely grasp.
“Leave her. I have her,” she snapped at him, whereupon he took several paces back, his complexion unpleasantly florid and a certain bulge making itself to be seen already in his trousers. Then, clicking her thumb and finger at me as though I were but a servant (such was her manner to be at times), she commanded me crisply, “Uncover her.”
Have I need to detail Clarissa’s plaintive cries? She sobbed, expostulated, all but swore indeed as, crouching down, I took her gown and underskirt and raised them with a flourish to her hips. At that she screamed wildly, but by clamping her free hand over her mouth and keeping her head pressed down, my stepmother suppressed her cries and, bending slightly back, observed the beauty I already saw. Or I should use perhaps the plural. Clarissa’s white
