"Lift your skirts-part your legs," Katherine ordered. My uncle did not turn to look. Amanda's eyes were lanterns. The black flaring of her bush. The curls looked thicker now. The creamy tint of her flat belly.
"Wicked!" Katherine intoned. She took the bottle and moved to Amanda whose eyes hunted the ceiling. The neck of the bottle lowered and hovered beneath her pubic mound. It hung in a straight line down between her stockinged thighs. "Draw your legs together, Amanda-grip it!"
A long hush-rushing sound like a sudden movement of water surged from Amanda's throat. Her eyes screwed up. Her long eyelashes trembled. Ice-cold, the bottle was gripped between her trembling thighs. Expressionless, Katherine placed her fingers delicately beneath the base of the bottle and urged it gently up.
"Noooo-Aaaaah!" Amanda moaned. The black, round shiny cork parted her lovelips and was gripped within it.
Katherine drew down the tiny skirt.
"Whooooo!" Amanda jittered. Her skirt hid all but the base of the bottle. Her teeth chattered. Small pearls of white. 1 want to run my teeth around them.
"Finish the wine," my uncle said. He rose-an avuncular hostand filled our glasses. Arabella's head had sunk. Her spirit moved through forests afar. The cream had long been lapped from her slit, her tight-purse, her nutcracker, her penis-pouter. Her bottom cheeks relaxed in their fullness, naked upon her seat.
I dipped the tip of my tongue in my glass. It swam like a goldfish. I wanted to French-drink again. Was it forbidden? Arabella had opened her eyes and sat up. She seemed more composed. Her head inclined towards Aunt Maude's. Sitting beside me again, Katherine slid her hand on to my thigh and caressed it. I would not look at her. 1 cast my eyes down upon the tablecloth, the white, the serene.
"Are we loved?" she asked me. My mind had already begun to catch at the comers of reason. Amanda stood in her aloneness. I did not reply. I wanted to catch the words my aunt was speaking. Of them all, the Lady Arabella intrigued me most. Her coming was totally voluntary, I felt. Her body held an arrogance of desire, unfulfilled until it was drawn forth by persuasion. Were we all the same? To what dark altars were we led? Darkness was strawberries -the sunlight cream.
"It excites me-I fear it," Arabella said,
"The root of desire is fearing. When you were caught with your drawers down, did you not intend to be caught?"
"I was dragged to my room," Arabella muttered. Her voice contained a sulkiness of satisfaction.
"And mounted admirably," my aunt said dryly, "as you were here, after your bitching. You prefer to be bitched?"
"Not always, but the strap…"
"It subdues you, yes, but you must not grow reliant upon it. Marriage will be no cure for you. It will dilute the very qualities that give you such attraction, my dear. I shall recommend that you are blindfolded in future. It will enclose such modesty as you have."
My aunt twirled the stem of her wine glass. Even as I, she stared at the tablecloth and appeared to muse. "As I recall," she continued, "there is a particular manservant in your house. Is he not called Eric? He is young, lusty. During the act, when your bottom is bared, he will present his to your mouth. Blindfolded you will grope for it even while you are being pistoned…
A cry from Arabella interrupted my aunt. She covered her face. "Oh! I could not!" she burst.
Aunt Maude rose. "Thomas, you will entertain her," she announced. "Amanda, you may go to the kitchen, girl." Her glance encompassed Katherine, Jenny and myself. The drawing room received us. We stood. Parts of the furniture had been cleared away, leaving a space in the centre of the floor. There stood a chair-a black leather one that I had never seen before. It was a simple affair. The strong wooden legs were strutted and rose some three feet. The broad seat -if it could be called one-was a mere sling of leather. Where the uprights of the back rose, another strong width of leather was repeated. In the centre of it was a small hole. Facing the chair so that the fronts of the seats touched was an identical one. In general aspect it was like a crude couch without a back to it. 1 had seen such in ancient Egyptian relics.
We stood. Beside me, Jenny caressed the bulbous curve of my bottom cheeks lightly. Katherine went into the hall and returned shortly. Frederick came with her. He was naked. His prong pronged. Around his neck was a halter to which a chain was attached.
Unspeaking, Katherine led him to the rear of one of the chairs and turned him to face it. His eyes were blind in their unseeing. His balls swung. "Closer!" Katherine snapped at him. His feet shuffled forward, the chain clinking. With a slight grimace of his features, the knob of his erect penis touched the leather slingback. To a slight but disdainful guidance of Katherine's fingers the knob passed through the hole and continued its upward glide until his prick emerged completely on the other side, facing the back of the other chair.
Motionless he stood, the veins raised on his tool which seemed to swell more by the tight enclosure. His balls pressed against the leather below the aperture.
Jenny's fingers quested beneath my bottom, pressing the thin wool up between my cheeks. I strained my legs and endeavoured to stand still. Aunt Maude entered, surveyed the scene and nodded. A faint scuffling of heels came and Arabella was patted and persuaded within by my uncle. Her grown was wreathed up to her hips, her eyes blindfolded. Her legs were superb: statuesque, long, and beautifully curved. The fluff of her tunny was thick with curls. Her thighs rubbed nervously as she stumbled forward.
"It is a simulation," Jenny murmured to me.
Guided by my aunt's hands, Arabella was taken to the chairs and made to kneel upon the seats. But an inch before her mouthhad she but known it then-the servant's prick jutted its menace. Her magnificent bottom cheeks-cheeks such as Michelangelo might have carved in marble-pressed against the back of the other chair. The waiting hole there appeared to centre itself exactly in line with the deep divide between her hemispheres. Melon-full, her exposed breasts hung down. Her knees made to shift in nervous reflex, but the dipping of the sling-seat into which the weight of her legs pressed permitted little movement.
My uncle approached the back of the chair to which her haunches were pressed. His face had a haggard aspect. His jacket and waistcoat had been removed. The top of his breeches was unbuttoned.
"Not yet-you are not privileged," Jenny said. With a last searching caress her hand relinquished my bottom. In my emptiness I stood while she blindfolded me, voices around me. How strange in the darkness of my dark. Did the furniture move-the sideboard menace? I had imaginings. A mystic magic. "Hold her hips." It was my uncle's groan.
"There is no nerd, Thomas. She will be birched if she moves, save in desiring. Open your mouth now, Arabella -feel for it, absorb the knob-now press your bottom back, tight to the leather. Thomas, now!"
Groans, gurgles, cries-a gurgling, a moan. A blubbering, a slap, a sucking sound. Her mouth corked. Her lips would puff around the servant's tool. Creak of wooden legs. A croaking whine from Arabella. Her bottom corked in turn.
In my impossibilities I swayed. But feet away from me the thin inhissing of breath sounded through Arabella's nostrils. Tomorrow perhaps she would receive guests for tea. The polite questions of everydayness would be asked. Music sheets would lay decoratively ranged upon a piano. Her parents would flank her sides. It would be known that she was obedient. The servants would move quietly in their domain. The curtains would be dumb to speak. Her bed would wait for night to fall. Sperm-drops around her stocking tops. Was here salvation? Her eyes would be hollow, receiving messages.
"Ah! in her to the root. She has taken both." It was Katherine's voice. Her tongue licked in my ear. I trembled. I knew I must stand still. In my stillness standing.