“In a little while, when you are gone, Robert, I shall remove my drawers, which you will find well warm and musky with my scent, and will toss them quickly on to the landing. You will wait there and catch them and may take them to bed with you if you wish. Would you like that?”
Her voice, so tender again, stirred my heart anew. Her hand continued to rub, lightly and maddeningly, I have no doubt.
“Yes. Yes, Mama,” he croaked.
“Very well-cover yourself and go. Be quick on it. I may exercise you again tomorrow if you are good. Beware that you do not spill your lust into my drawers, for I shall know of it. You may suck upon them, but that is all.”
I heard all in a daze, conscious of a melting moisture in my own most intimate garment and unable to tear my eyes from my brother’s rampant pego until it was fully covered and his jacket on. Turning away from him, our stepmother waved her hand airily in dismissal, at which he literally slunk out and closed the door. I then burst out, unable to contain myself and fell into her embrace.
“Oh, how naughty!” I exclaimed involuntarily.
“Wait,” she laughed, “let me give him his little treat.” Most boldly then she doffed her drawers, easing them off over her bootees. The crotch was damp as I well expected to see it. With almost a giggle she waved the cotton before my face, bringing a deeply feminine effluvia to my nostrils, opened the door a little, tossed them out, and closed it. A scurrying sound came to our ears and she laughed and said, “You see!” Then her expression changed and became one of seriousness.
“All men and boys are so if properly taken in hand,” she said, and asked-as though I were much older than my years-“did you not know?”
I bit my lip, feeling embarrassed at her question yet wanted withal to appear bold.
“It is too soon for you to understand,” she said gently, “but I mean to progress you quickly. The choice is simple, Clara. You may live what Society is pleased to call the normal life. You will marry, suffer the boorishness of your husband, become infinitely bored and wonder what to do with all your days. As you grow older he may desert you for other women. Do you wish that?”
“Oh, no!” I must have looked more deeply concerned than I felt for she kissed me all about my mouth.
“Robert has a good cock, has he not?” she asked. Before I could think of how to frame a reply she went on, “I cannot let it remain unmannered, you see, and by that I mean that he requires training, as all males do. Some females, too.” Her eyes twinkled. “It is a precious thing to be able to guide the destinies of those who would otherwise live haphazard lives and became so dull that they bore all about them. Robert is really happier than he has ever been for he waits upon my ministrations and knows that I will finally comfort him. I have given him a direction and a purpose, you see, and have concentrated his mind wonderfully, if I may use dear Dr. Johnson’s phrase. Stern and remote-though also sometimes teasing-I may seem to him, but were I to leave him to his own devices he would soon begin to poke every girl in sight. He would come too quickly and afford the girls no pleasure. In a word, he would be uselessly ruttish. That would not be good, would it?”
I shook my head, so persuasive were her words and so urging her tone. Most of all I wished to know Papa’s place in all this and how we might keep our secret from him, for all three of us had now been in her hands.
She saw the wonderment in my eyes and said carefully, “There are mysteries, are there not? Does it not make life more exciting? Think on it.”
“I don’t need to,” I said impulsively, whereat her eyes glowed.
“I truly believe you do not, Clara. I judged you well from the start. You display neither bewilderment nor incomprehension. Truly were you born to the part I mean to have for you-that of a Mistress of many households and of many eager souls. Go to bed now. Judge levelly the events of the day. Tomorrow I must begin to bring Sarah to fruition.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, but there were to be no more confidences that night and I was firmly ushered out. Going to my room I thought again and again of Robert’s waggling cock and blushed-yet it was so nice to see. Perhaps in my imagination I even put my fingers around it as she had done.
CHAPTER THREE
Breakfast was ever a quiet affair, broken only by the movements of the servants about us, the tinkling of cups and spoons and the careful sounds of knives and forks such as are made by gentlefolk in eating.
Papa looked as dapper as ever, his goatee beard being well trimmed, though his face a trifle pale. My stepmother appeared to defer to him, being gentle in her talk, though now and again it seemed but a cloak for the proddings she gave him such as to his business and the estate. Occasionally he would appear to begin to offer a light opposition to her views, then her magnetic eyes would meet his and he would wipe his mouth hastily with a napkin, take a further sip of coffee and say for all the world as if he had made the suggestions himself, “Of course, my pet-this is how things should be:”
Indeed when he made that remark I saw Sarah’s lip curl a little and positively hated her for it. Our stepmother, I believe, did not miss the facial gesture for she gazed at her sharply, went on eating for a moment, and then said, “We shall go to the summerhouse immediately after breakfast, Sarah.”
“Oh, I do not wish to,” replied my sister pertly.
“I said we shall go,” came the quiet and cutting reply. Papa gazed from one to the other.
“Sarah might prefer to go riding,” he murmured.
“She will have plenty of riding to do, William-I shall see to that as I shall to all else,” came the reply whereat a silence fell. Sarah flushed and pushed a piece of bacon away with her fork. Robert appeared to be in tremulous excitement. As for myself, I seemed to draw strength from merely gazing at my stepmother who radiated as ever a positive aura and glow of confidence such as I believe is given to few women. I thought of strange things-the roundness of her bottom on the seat, Robert’s prick upstanding the night before and how he might have disposed of her drawers without the maid finding them when she did his room. I glanced at Sarah’s breasts and saw how beautifully rounded they were. Such thoughts had never entered my head before and yet I felt no strangeness at them nor even immodesty. All was surely as it was and must be. So perhaps was the basis of my own philosophy then formed. Above all I bathed in the glow of our stepmother who I knew would be victorious, though if asked in what I would have been unable to answer.
“Robert, you have my instructions,” she next said and, though there was otherwise silence, it seemed to deepen as her voice ceased.
He nodded and appeared too awed to speak. No sooner were we done and Papa risen-for in such small matters all etiquette was observed-than my brother went out, passing through the conservatory into the garden where I wondered much what he was to do. Our stepmother rose next.
“Come upstairs, Sarah. I wish to speak to you,” she uttered in a tone that brooked no refusal.
My sister stirred pettishly in her seat, avoiding my glance, then got up and followed. As my stepmother reached the door with Sarah in train, she turned and said gently to me, “You will be in attendance, Clara. Wait in the conservatory.”
“Yes,” I replied simply. The door closed and I wished to move but could not. Some urgent wish impelled me to know what my sister’s fate might be and so after a moment I daringly followed, creeping up the wide staircase until I was within sight and sound of our stepmother’s room.
“Take them off this moment, Sarah!” I heard her say and then a smacking sound and a small cry from my sister.
“Oh, why must I?” she wailed, then another smack.
“Because I tell you. Leave them on the bed now. Are you not cooler thus without your drawers? You have no need to wear them in the house, nor in summer out of doors. I am mindful as to all your ways, Sarah, though you believe it not. Tidy your hair again-you may use my brush-I wish you to be looking your best. A little rouge upon your cheeks now.”
“I don’t like it, though.”
“It is not a question of what you think you like, Sarah. Rub it well in and smooth it out towards the edges-so. Let me look at you. Your eyes do not glisten as they should. I shall have to smarten you up. Come!”
Oh good heavens, with what fearful trepidation I scurried down lest I be caught! All too breathlessly I
