the hands about her. Hot flushed as she was her cheeks sucked in once and then with a gargling cry puffed out again.
“Very well, that will do. Out with it, Robert, and turn your face to the wall. You have seen today more than you have merited:”
Turned about he then was by Bertha and quite roughly. Poor thing. I did feel for him. Our stepmother bent then to untie Sarah’s ankles, but then suddenly appeared to recall my presence. Motioning Bertha not to let my sister turn her head-though such would have been exceedingly difficult for her to do-she ushered me out through a quietly opened door.
“Return to the house. Sarah will soon be out. You must comfort her, you know,” she said almost quaintly.
I wanted to. It was my task to do so, as I saw it. I would kiss her poor bottom and comfort her indeed.
“We shall have time to talk later,” my stepmother added, which saying gave me a feeling of ever greater importance so I took myself quickly back into the house and there awaited Sarah’s return. Indeed so impatient was I that I peeped from my bedroom window which gave out on to the garden and in but a few moments saw her stumbling back, her hair awry and bodice open. She was not crying but had a hollow look on her face.
I left my door open, pretending to be busy and of great innocence. Upon mounting the stairs I heard her give a little wail which I knew was intended to draw my attention and so hurried out on to the landing and gazed down in seeming wonder upon her.
“Oh, Clara!”
It was then that she gave way fully to emotion and so stumbled against the wall that I ran down a few steps to her side and supported her.
“Sarah, what ails you? How dusty your dress is!”
“You d… d… do not know what has h… h… happened to me!”
“Come to your room, dearest, and lie down. Tell me all”
Led sobbing into her room, she fell upon her bed in a posture of abandonment, lying on her tummy. I sat beside her and stroked her hair, much indeed as our stepmother had done but long moments before.
“Tell me all. What is so terrible? Where are the others? Have you been attacked?”
So well did I act my part that I chided myself inwardly for my duplicity. As I sat back, Sarah’s head moved and slumped into my lap. At any other time the gesture would have been one of great innocence, but I was no longer in that state. The side of her mouth was upon my thigh, above my stocking top. I felt its softness and its moisture through my dress and could not but help think that these were the same lips that had enfolded themselves around Robert’s cock.
“Oh, Clara, I was wh… wh… whipped!” she burst out.
“What? Oh, you could not have been! Who would dare do such a thing?”
“Why, Stepmama, of course. Oh, and Bertha was there and she held me over! My poor bottom, and I had done nothing, Clara, nothing, I swear!”
The strain of hysteria in her voice aroused me and I moved her so that she lay full upon her back, a perfect cascade of shining tears rolling down upon her cheeks. Her bottom moved fretfully. Her whole posture demanded comfort and attention. I cast myself upon her as though to restrain her in her movements, making to affect great agitation at her news. She had not mentioned Robert, though. I thought that strange and yet could understand her motive.
“Of course you have done nothing,” I soothed. “Come, let us have off with your dusty dress and make you pretty again.”
“I hate her, I hate her!”
“Yes, darling, yes.”
“Don’t undress me.”
Her plea was all too late. She was willing, it seemed to me, to be bundled about a little. Females in a certain state of excited distress are often so, as I was since to learn. I had to rumple her much in removing her dress and then her chemise, my exclamation of apparent surprise bursting out when I pretended to discover that she wore no drawers.
“Oh, you poor thing, she took them off!” I burst.
“St… st… stop it!” Sarah jerked. Her garters were white and pink, most pretty in appearance and matching well with the creamy shade of her stockings. Her legs, being long, were finely tapered, though swelling voluptuously at their junction where a proud and well-furred bush flourished its dark brown curls.
“Show me,” I urged and rolled her over on to her tummy. The sparkling pink of her bottom was still evident. It bumped a little as I touched it with my fingers and a mewing sound came from her while her fingers clawed into the quilt. Since she was clearly in no great physical discomfort, I divined instinctively a sense of excitement in her that she would have preferred to hide yet could not help but let seep forth. Murmuring my condolences, as it were, I bent over beside her on the bed and applied my lips to her quivering halfmoons which had all the appearance of strawberries and cream.
“Don’t, Clara,” she whispered, but I knew her frailty now for she did not kick nor endeavour to roll over.
“Shush-let me comfort my poor baby,” I murmured and in so doing put on a greater maturity than my years indicated. Soothing my lips all about, I slyly observed the relaxing of her shoulders and a shy hiding of her face which she effected by crooking up one arm and burying her head in the fold of her elbow. “Now it feels better, now it feels better,” I intoned. The warm silky surface of her well-cleft moon enchanted me. The taut smooth skin seemed to stir willingly under the moist blessing of my mouth. “Is it nice?” I asked a little daringly. Her cheeks contracted and then relaxed.
“No,” she answered pettishly, but I knew it not to be true.
“I will make it nice, truly I will,” I whispered and began to stroke her naked back which rippled agreeably to my touch. My other hand I cupped gently beneath the lower bulge of her firm bottom so that she might not move and then with a rising thrill of sensuousness dipped my tongue into her cleft and wisped it up and down.
“C… C… Clara!” she uttered in pretended shock, “wh… wh… what are you doing?”
There was no strength nor rising reprimand in her voice and then came to me such words as our stepmother might have uttered.
“Be quiet-it is for your good,” I said. The die was cast. I was tasting her and finding the sensation wickedly exciting. Without further ado I parted the springy cheeks of her bottom with both hands and twirled the tip of my tongue all around her puckered rosette.
“N… n… no!” she blathered, yet her bottom gave such a little jerk as betrayed and denied the refusal of her cry.
Such being my arising nature, I suppose, I pressed my fingertips tighter into her and thereby exposed her nether aperture more fully. Indeed, it opened a little, which permitted me to flick the tip of my tongue within. A frantic moan came from Sarah and she kicked, though not viciously. It was rather as though she were endeavouring to avoid something that she found pleasurable. So very much indeed can be read by such febrile movements of the body. I was determined as it seemed to me then to conquer her now and held her bottom cheeks ever further apart. As I did so she made to rise by pressing up with her hands, but in that moment the bedroom door opened and a voice sounded above us.
“It is called feuille de rose,” I heard my stepmother declare. So quick was she in response to the revealed situation that her words were immediately followed by the snapped command, “Hold her!”
I shrieked in apparent alarm as did Sarah, but prevented her from rising and indeed pressed her tightly down once more by appearing to collapse upon her. With great presence of mind, however, our stepmother made it seem that I would escape for she then spat, “Hold her, I say, Clara, or I shall whip you in turn!”
“Oh!” I quavered for good effect while Sarah drummed with her hands upon the quilt in dismay.
Then with the swiftest of steps we were joined at the bedside. Bending and taking hold of Sarah’s knees while I slyly relaxed my weight upon her for a moment, our stepmother deftly swung her over on to her back wherewith I fell across Sarah with a well-considered shriek. Thus having my face hid and my back turned upon our intruder, I felt only a flurry of limbs and then a soulful cry from Sarah.
“Ah-oooh! Don’t let her!” she cried, but already our stepmother had knelt and-thrusting back Sarah’s legs until her knees all but touched her tummy-applied her lips and tongue to her moist honeypot. “Noo-nooo-noooo!” hummed Sarah. Her wild face was jerked from side to side, the tendons on her neck straining.
