“You will receive now, sir, one cut of the cane as a warning of your fate should you sperm her prematurely.”
Oh my goodness, what a yell he would have uttered if he could as then Bertha whipped the cane in full across his buttocks! His head jerked further up so that his chin pointed to the ceiling, and his eyes came out on stalks while in trying to evade the whippy cane his prick thrust full up Clarissa’s quim and held there tight.
“Thirty-one,” my stepmother intoned mercilessly even while his eyes creased up in a grimace and a red streak showed across his bottom.
True, she was putting him to his task severely, for the male serf’s cock is usually nursed over a period of time until he learns to have it rubbed more and more beguilingly, but without coming save on command. In the first weeks of disciplining, the male is not permitted to come at all and so learns that the hand that soothes him is also the one that masters him and which he must obey, whether it is nursed in the palm, urged up the female bottom or sheathed in a clinging cunny.
I will not, though, detail the sweet agonies of Clarissa’s guardian-if such he was-at any greater length. No man could have wished to reach the post more urgently than he.
“Fifty-and now!” came from my stepmother whereat, the tendons on his neck straining violently, he brought Clarissa’s bottom to smack against his belly and injected his tribute in long throbbing spouts of such abundance that both of them quivered and rubbed together for ages before his dripping spout was finally withdrawn, whereupon Bertha gave him no time for settlement but simply led him out.
His task was done. I saw the meaning of it then better than any words that might then have been uttered to me. The whole role of the male had changed before my eyes. Such food for thought is rarely given to a girl of my then young age.
Immediately his steaming weapon was withdrawn, Clarissa sank down and wriggled on her belly where she lay supine. At that, my stepmother raised her fingers to her lips and motioned me to withdraw. I did so, but lingered at the door, hearing murmurings and kisses.
“Yes, if you want,” I heard Clarissa say and then came a rustling of clothes and I guessed that my stepmother was undressing. It was a full threequarters of an hour before they reappeared, both looking cool and faultless in appearance as my stepmother ever intends after such an event. As to my brother and Charlie, Bertha had tied them up back to back in the potting shed, nursed their cocks, and then left them so. They were more severely in training now.
Clarissa’s guardian sat transfixed and knowing not where to look, being completely attired and unbound, so free to move.
“You may escort Clarissa back now, but you will return within two days so that I hear what she has to say. Kneel, cur, and kiss the toes of her shoes as a token of your obedience!”
There was a moment’s silence, as may well be imagined, and then he stepped forward to his “ward” who looked now utterly demure.
“My dear…” he began.
“You were not summoned to speak, but to obey, sir!” snapped my stepmother who made such a small, menacing movement in his direction that he fell to his knees upon the instant and, raising the wide hem of Clarissa’s dress, laved his mouth greedily over the polished toes of her shoes. Feet slightly apart, she did not stir.
“You may have him kiss your thighs before you retire tonight, Clarissa. He will kneel to do so, but his lips will attempt nothing else.”
“Yes,” was Clarissa’s quiet response. She stepped back smoothly but quickly then, causing his mouth to fall upon the carpet so that with the most foolish of expressions on his face he rose awkwardly and stared as though lost from one to the other.
“You may go,” my stepmother told him distantly. “Follow three paces behind her at all times.”
“Of course.” He stumbled and sought rather humbly to meet Clarissa’s eyes but she had turned away and swept in ladylike fashion into the hall.
“Another convert!” my stepmother laughed as their carriage departed. My mind, however, was on other matters.
“What did you mean about Sarah?” I asked, whereat her eyes took on a different look.
“She is to be put up to the cock in a manner that will teach her the best of lessons,” I was told, but could gain no more from her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For the next few days Sarah avoided me as much as possible and spoke coolly to me only when necessary. When I mentioned this to my stepmother-who was equally distant with her-she waved her hand airily and said, “She will learn.”
“When shall I?” I asked pertly, making her laugh.
“Do you want to?” was her response, and we both knew what was meant. I was torn for a reply and she, seeing this, asked, “Who with?” Again I could not bring myself to answer.
Finally I blurted out, “I want to. Like Clarissa.”
“How grown up you are in all reality, Clara! I mean to take you by the hardest route now, for nothing else will suffice. So far you have obeyed me. Do you promise to continue to do so?”
I nodded, being eager to please, though little knew my fate.
“What a pity,” she went on, “that Sarah has proved recalcitrant and quite unexciting, though I mean to get her over the hump. It brings me to a solution I did not yet intend, but sooner or later the full circle must be drawn. So long as it remains incomplete then we cannot draw other females and male serfs into the arena. You understand what I am saying, Clara?
For a full minute my mind remained blank, then as some intimation came to me of what she meant by completing the circle, I swallowed and stared at her and my lips quavered.
“It will be all right, you know,” she said gently.
“B… b… but… Sarah,” I blurted.
“She has been difficult, hasn’t she, but she will soon get over it. There is nothing nicer in all the world than bringing all together and having things nice and trim. One day you will wish to make your own way in such matters and I shall not impede you. You will see then even better how necessary it is to have free rein and not to have forever to arrange the training of young ladies and, of course, of males behind closed doors. The sense of freedom you will obtain will be infinite. You will, as a sage said, wear life like an old cloak.”
Until then perhaps it had all seemed to me like a bizarre game, but now it was clear that her intent was wholly serious.
It was at this time mid-morning and I had seen nothing of Robert whose manner remained pleasingly dutiful and quiet to us both. Upon asking where he was-which I did partly to distract my thoughts-my stepmother gave a mischievous grin and replied,
“I believe Bertha has made him ready. Come upstairs with me:”
On the stairs we passed Bertha who gave my stepmother a nod as if to say that all was well and then passed down. “You are going to milk him,” then was said to me and with trembling excitement I followed along the upper hallway and together we entered his room.
There to my profound astonishment he sat upon his bed attired in a chemise that I recognised as one of Sarah’s-a rather pretty blue one with white lace at the hem and neckline-stockings and shoes. His hair had been well brushed and there was rouge both upon his cheeks and on his lips which doubtless Bertha had applied. At our entrance he sprang up, the flurrying movement of his feminine garment betraying the gathered legs of a pair of white batiste drawers around his thighs.
“Robert! How sweet you look!” our stepmother cooed while he stood awkwardly with hands to his sides and blushed to see me regarding him. “Does he not?” came then and the door was firmly closed. While I scarcely knew whether or not to nod, she snapped to my brother to hold his head up well and stand in the centre of the floor the better that “she” could be inspected, as she said. So shuffling forward-and being then reprimanded for not stepping
