observed, and Clive put down to kneel before her all the while.”
“Clive! Oh, he is weak-how weak he is! I, his wife, who should have been defended!”
“Did you wish to be once the pulsing and tingling of your parts had met and made acquaintance? I think not. Shamed you felt at first, but then excited, he put to pleasuring you and well observed. The glory was not his but yours, my pet. Your bottom formed a divine altar of love whereat he worshipped with Priapus, but once expended then he had done his duty.”
“His duty? Is that the way it is! I do not want to see his face-oh, no!”
“When he is put to you? You have no need to yet, but there will come a time when, mounted on your belly, you will gaze up at him impassively, or-better-you will straddle him and sheathe his cock yourself while he lies prone, obedient, arms at his sides. He will learn soon enough the lessons of obedience, for Millicent will not touch him otherwise. He will be in a blind alley, knowing better to crawl than to walk. Upon command he will lick your feet, your thighs, your pouting cunny, as a dog might, yet will not attempt you.”
“I never wished to be beholden to any male.”
Jennifer pouted as she spoke and spoke as though to herself.
“Nor shall you be if you are bold enough. Come, sit up and let us have some wine.”
“You c… c… caned me!” Her voice trembled. She gazed at me accusingly.
“For your own good, my sweet.” I smiled at her beguilingly and helped her sit, though she made to fluster awkwardly. My stepmother departing to fetch refreshments, I bathed her face and brushed her hair, she feeling mollified at this attendance on her.
“Did you not like it? Oh, be truthful?” I asked.
“What?” she responded, though well knew what I meant and tried to tease a grin from off her lips.
I made a real merriness of it and tickled her, whereat my stepmother entered with a tray and smiled to see us so. The act of laughing had given Jennifer greater release of her spirit.
“Is he really as you said?” she asked.
“Have you not eyes to see? Come.”
Such conspiracies between women are ever stronger than those between males. Being persuaded along the corridor, though timidly at first, the miscreant was shown to her view, his trousers full rucked down below his knees, cock limp, and haggard eyes that stared back to our own.
“See if he may be brought up, Clara,” I was told and being not uneager to show my prowess in front of Jennifer, lolled upon the bed beside him at arm’s length and caused his prick to stiffen and to rise, massaging my fingers all about at will until his majesty Priapus stood.
“He does not speak, you see, for he may not,” my stepmother observed cuttingly and then for good reward raised her skirts and queened him heavily, causing him to splutter much beneath the weight of her knickered bottom and his tool to quiver all the more while Jennifer, bemused, stared on. His breast heaved as he fought for air. I ringed his cock with my fingers and so held it, then beckoned Jennifer.
“Come-hold it,” I murmured, though with a fine strain of command in my voice. Her footsteps slurred. His face being completely hidden under my stepmama’s bottom, the fact that he could not see her encouraged her. Her arm extended itself slowly. I took her hand and guided it to the root whereat, perhaps to her dismay, the smothering bottom was lifted from his face and my stepmother quickly stood on the floor beside her, daring her with silence to withdraw her hand.
Mr de Vere Lacey’s face was sheened with perspiration and his eyes were hot. His lips moved and yet he seemed afraid to speak. I slid in turn from the bed and so Jennifer stood, only the faintest trembling making itself apparent in her limbs and the glowing crest of his penis emerging from her grasping hand. The longer that she held it, the more her confidence appeared to grow. A look now proud, implacable, came on her features that did not fail to convey its message to him. Indeed, he looked cowed.
“Hold him so, for he knows now well enough who his true Mistress is, Jennifer,” my stepmother said and turned and opened a drawer. That she had anticipated every contingency and made all ready was apparent to me when she drew out a large broad dog collar and a chain affixed thereto, the sight of which I was well accustomed to.
“Lift your head,” she instructed him solemnly and he did so, meekly allowing her to fasten it about his neck, the chain clinking and hanging limp beside the bed. At that, Jennifer gave a little start but her eyes remained steadfast. That she was putting herself on her own mettle, so to speak, I had no doubt. The thrumming of his big erection in her palm must moreover have been exceedingly pleasant.
“Wh… wh… what is to happen?” he asked then, and thus are the mighty fallen, for to my considerable pleasure his words appeared to be addressed to Jennifer and thus he paid first homage to her.
“You are to be exercised,” Stepmama told him coldly and held then the chain taut while I untied his bonds, casting a warning glance at Jennifer not to relax her firm, tight grip. Her knuckles whitened a little. Evidently she was enjoying squeezing him. With his trousers, socks and boots removed, he neither kicked nor strove to raise his arms, but ever kept his eyes on his daughter-in-law’s as though pleading with her silently. That he should have done so was the best of chances for it increased her will, I am sure, and taught her more than many words could have done.
“Bring him downstairs,” was then said curtly to me and with that my stepmother swept out and descended the stairs with firm and meaningful tread. At that, Jennifer’s eyes appeared to become a little haunted, but I-moving around the bed and behind her-took up the chain and said to him as briefly, “Come!” then added, “Continue to hold his prick, Jennifer, for he has been wicked and well knows it. He must be quelled.”
Thus did the bizarre procession occur, Jennifer leading the way and stepping down most lightly while keeping purchase on his cock. I, following at the rear, held the chain taut and kept his head up. Being led into the drawing room, he saw then my stepmother waiting imperiously there, her arms folded.
“On your knees! On all fours like a dog!” she spat to him. The chain clinked once more as I loosened it. Jennifer hurriedly released her grip. Down he sank and looked like a great hound, I straddling his back, the chain drawn tight again. The posture, being instinctive and not consciously intended, amused my stepmama who murmured, “Very well-let him be ridden.”
I had exercised the males at home thus. While she took the chain from my hand and held it-and he groaning in anticipation of the as yet unknown-I raised my skirt to — my hips and, being knickerless, brought my cunny to rub along his spine where I had ruffled up his shirt. The chain being then put back to my hand, I gritted, “Move!”
Ah, how he groaned and how Jennifer stared! Heavy as I was upon his back he was forced to grind his knees forward little by little, I reaching behind with my free hand and frequently slapping his bared buttocks while he was forced to circle round the room. Coming back to where we had started and my stepmother clapping her hands lightly, Jennifer was then told to mount him in turn-“For you will do it often at your whim,” she was told.
He panted, hung his head and waited humbly, cock still erect as ever we had made it and his balls dangling heavily. My stepmother, giving Jennifer’s bottom a little smack, urged her skirt up out of sight of him and put her on him. His back all but creaked! Jennifer’s cheeks were rosy red and yet excited. A little kick from my shoe impelled him forward yet again, his progress this time being even slower. In truth, Jennifer’s feet sometimes touched the floor and so both lightened his burden and urged him forward. Her eyes were bright, her back upright. Upon her rising from him at last, he arched his aching back in humble supplication.
“Madam! May I…?” he croaked, raising his head wearily, though cautiously not attempting to rise.
“You address ME, sir? Address yourself only to your Mistress!” snapped my stepmother.
“I know not what to say to her,” he groaned whereat to our supreme pleasure Jennifer strode in front of him and stood with legs astride.
“You may speak,” she said quietly.
“Have I… have I your forgiveness?” he asked, his eyes upon her legs.
“Are you obedient?” she asked curtly in a tone that owed much to my stepmother.
“Yes.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“And will continue so to be?”
“Yes! I swear! Even to my dying day. Were you to ask me to lick your shoes…”
“I may or I may not.” Her voice was skittish and yet stern, so finely threaded that he would not know what to make of it. Her nostrils pinching with high emotion, she tossed her head and gazed at my stepmother as though proudly.
“He may be put to you, then, but must withdraw before he comes. I will present him to you, my dear. Clara
