age, but vastly the junior of Cleves. But Cleves was a female of extraordinary spirit. She had no intention of remaining in a secondary position. Her breasts jiggling from the effort, she took a purchase on the rim of the bathtub and by main force pulled herself upright-even as I never missed a stroke. I grinned wickedly at her discomfiture-I was relishing every second. But Angela Cleves shook her head and, with a steely grip, seized my hand-although, like some mechanical thing, her hips, that had been thrusting at my fingers before, continued to thrust. She took a deep breath. “Children,” she said. “Yes, dear governess,” James and I mockingly chanted in unison. “We will dry ourselves and proceed to the bedroom.”
“Yes, dear governess.” Once we were back in the bedroom I did a superb piece of acting. If I may say so, this was probably the first instance of the showing of my histrionic abilities. The motivation? Very simple. Although I was a child, I was nevertheless a Lady, the daughter of a Marquis, and I wished to prove to Cleves that I was quite capable of maintaining my superior position. What I did was the following-nothing complicated but, as it turned out, highly effective. James, alert to every shading of my moods, waited, intuiting that I had the situation well in hand and that we would take the play away from the redhead on the ground that the pleasures of the aristocratic blood took precedence over those of the working class.
I sat on the bed, daintily picked up a stocking, raised one leg high into the air and fell back, as though I were about to roll on my stocking from that stance, thus taking the first step toward absenting myself from Miss Cleves' quarters. With a strangled whimper of lust, the voluptuous redheaded woman advanced upon me in all her seductive nudity-she had stared for a moment at my position on the bed, with one leg altitudinously elevated, and what that had revealed of my outer and inner ramparts pinkly pouting among the black foliage.
“You little beast,” she hurled at me. “I will teach you to mock me-even in my presence!” She had no idea of what was to transpire. She did not notice, for instance, that the fine club of my brother had once again become poised. Simulating alarm, I raised the other leg, crooking it at the knee, and dropped the stocking.
“Oh, la,” said I, “whatever have I done?” Cleves' words were quite lost and unintelligible as she dropped to her knees-I had made certain to comport myself at the edge of the bed-and buried herself headfirst in my ebon coppice, her tongue darting furiously. I felt a huge victory-Cleves had genuflected. She was practically prostrate before me. I raised myself to my elbows and then sat up, a liquid fire engulfing my vitals because of the knowing lavings of my governess. I caressed the back of her neck and several times rudely pushed at her head so that she might search me out more thoroughly.
Then I nodded at James and he winked. I dropped once again to my elbows and, very slowly, began pushing myself away from the edge of the four-poster-pushing myself toward the center of the fresh sheets.
As I did so, Cleves never for a moment relinquished either her labializing of my rima pudendi or her rapid tongue inserts between the labia majora pudendi and the labia minora pudendi, laving the clitoris and foraging into the vagina (my dear reader, please to keep in mind that, while at the time of the instance described above I had no idea whatever of the proper names for the anatomy in question, I did learn them later in my frigid period to understand myself better, an account of which you will find later in my narrative). I tell you quite frankly, I would have surrendered then and there to the Clevesian ministrations and forgotten my noble blood entirely had it not been for my loyalty to my brother who had contrived to whisper to me, while the busy redhead was nibbling at my clitoris-which almost drove me mad-that if I got Cleves onto the bed, he, James would be in a position once and for all to have done with his virginity. So be it, I told myself. Now the redhead and I were roughly in the center of the four-poster. As she had at me with her little pointed tongue, her rump was high in the air. Her hands tortured my nipples.
My own breathing was shallow. I shut my eyes. I began to buck.
Then, suddenly, my genital system felt as if it had been stove in-Angela's teeth had cut into the tissues because the woman had been lunged at from the rear. I whined. Actually, the pain was short-lived because of the overriding zest that soon claimed me. It had been James, of course, who had come upon Angela from behind. As the head of his penis established contact with the tip of her womb, Miss Angela Cleves uttered an unearthly cry. Momentarily she raised her secretion-smeared face and twisted her head to cry to James, “You dirty little monster!” I supposed she was paying some sort of lip service to whatever remained of her conscience, because once again she applied her physiognomic lips to my vaginal ones, and once again I was flying a sortie of rapture while my brother plumbed Cleves from the rear-then I heard her groaning at my slit. He was being quite cruel to her but she deserved every shred for blackmailing us. He hung on to her breasts-literally hung on them-while he glided in and out of her, plunged in and out of her. She made pitiful nasal sounds which I intercepted and broke by shoving her face into my luxuriance and wrapping my thighs around her neck. I came. James came.
But Angela had not conquered. On the contrary-she had not reached her climax. Her sweaty and lubricated face pleaded with us to finish her off. James was adamant. I was adamant. We grinned, my brother and I. “Masturbate,” we said in unison. “We will do you the pleasure of observing.” The redhead had no other recourse. She asked us to leave. We shook our heads. “Blackmail invites blackmail,” James said. Shivering-the fire had gone down in the grate-the girl parted her cleft and, her jaw gone slack, manipulated herself. James and I then were newly excited. “You take one,” I said, “and I'll take the other.” “Agreed,” James said. And we chewed at Angela's nipples as she fingered the node in the female that so resembles the male's prick. Finally she gave a great humping. Stupor was on her face. She uttered high piercing cries, and a series of tremors giddied and eddied all over her body. Unwilling, now, to let her go, I continued to savage her nipples while James mouthed her pubic region. Again Angela convulsed, flopping about like a fish on a hot plate. “Let me alone now,” she said in a low voice when her flop-about had subsided.
“I beg you, let me-” James slapped her face. She shut up.
Yes, I thought. This was our revenge for Angela having threatened to inform on us to our parents. This was bringing her to book. She would become our sexual slavey. So the revenge turned out to be very simple. And when she was satiated, she would leave and we would never see her again. But now we had her where we wanted her… James held his shriveled instrument out to her. “Harden it,” he said.
“We don't have very much time now,” Angela said. “The Marquis and Marchioness will be-” “Harden it,” James said pitilessly.
“Quickly, Angela.” Her head hanging, abased, our governess knelt before my brother and flicked her fingers across his rod and redeemer.
She grazed her fingertips along the base of his still modest column- still modest when erect-until it essayed little pumping motions. Then she brushed her nipples across it and then it positively gave a heave, its rocketlike shape quite startling but capable, of course, of fireworks. “James,” she said. “Yes?” “James,” she said again, piteously. “What is it, Miss Cleves?” “I quite realize I'm your senior by a number of years, but would you consider staying with me a few more hours-because on second thought I don't believe your mother and father will look in on us.” “Holy faggots of Christ,” James cursed, “I should hope not. Nevertheless, Cleves, there will be other occasions so that I think it best to break off for the moment.” Angela's face burned. “Just another hour,” she pleaded. “I am terribly tense and overactivated and need thoroughgoing satisfactions.” “I am not your man,” James said decisively. “I am grateful that, because of you, I am no longer a virgin. But I am not your paramour. I'm a very gifted and avant-garde boy, and therefore I will inform you as to our next rendezvous, my sister Clarissa to be included as well.” “Children are terribly cruel,” she said.
“Only as a result of their governesses,” I said. She shook her head. “I cannot stay here. I shall have to ask my contract to be nullified.” She spoke in very low tones, as if the words were simply for her ears alone. James and I had dressed and we were standing by the door. “Good night, Miss Cleves,” James said. She did not reply. Nor did she say a word when I wished her the same. We left her squatting naked in the middle of the four-poster bed, for all the world in the dim gaslight some burnished, holy statuette from some lost land, her red hair tumbling disheveled about her face and shoulders… I tarried a few minutes in James's suite. “Do you think we did right, James, in using her?” He leaned back in a leather armchair in his elegant way. “Of course we did. She had no right threatening to tell tales to Mother and Dad.” “Perhaps,” I said, “she did evil because she's our last governess. She's our introduction into the world.” “Yes,” he said, “what fragments we see of it.” I sighed. “What is it, Clarissa?” “It's hard to say, James. After sex, even though, technically, I'm still a virgin-I feel sad. As if I've given everything away. Don't you feel that way at all, James? After all, you're no longer a virgin.”
“Well, I rather feel as if we're going through the last of our childhood, Clarissa-and that we should make the most of Angela Cleves.” “You don't believe she'll try to break her contract?”
“I doubt if she'll make any such effort. I think she feels she's got the perfect picture here, you know-lewd lad and lass join their governess in secret sex rites.” “Well, she is a beauty. Those teats… ah… I can't wait till I get my
