“Oh, I've already told him that,” she said, put fallen hairpins in her mouth and grinned at me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
On such occasions as young ladies are brought to us for training, Caroline will be heard to say, in a measured but cooing manner, “We will keep her for a week and I will then communicate with you.” This while the girl stands looking wonderingly around, adopts a posture of great modesty, or affects an interest in the floor and knows not what to do with her gloved hands.
It is rather like taking in pets when owners close their houses for the season and retire to Baden-Baden or to Paris, I have often said.
“It is nothing of the sort-though of course they are pets,” Caroline will rejoin, and so gives me a partial victory in that.
Miriam we kept chez nous for just four days. She required attention more in the manner of a child than an amorata. A collar and lead being procured from a saddler, Adelaide would lead the lady around the house, having attired her most enticingly in a black waist corset, stockings and boots to match-this leaving her bottom bared and her tits a-wobbling freely above the fringed lace of the garment. Several times she was stabled and left alone, bound by her wrists to a hook in the dark barn. If she howled, Caroline would say briskly to my sister, “Go and use the schooling whip on her.” There would come cries across the paddock, then a silence.
Adelaide would return looking flushed and saying, “She is well dealt with,” the net result of such being that either she or Caroline received my salutation, which delighted them.
“You may work her bottom just before she goes to bed, and that is all,” said Caroline of Miriam. I do not know to this day what possessed her to have a latent jealousy. Many a younger girl had been more entrancing. No doubt it was because Miriam lived alone and might therefore be thought to entice me to her residence.
I had no such desires, however. It is an oddity that a wholly submissive woman will eventually entrap one by virtue (if such a term may be used) of her constant needs to have the same attention all the time. I would find it infinitely boring to be constantly up and down with collars, leads and ropes. There was no future to be had in it. Upon bidding Miriam farewell, and she leaning from the window of her carriage, she asked tearfully whether I would not visit her again.
Caroline, of course, considered it an affront. “We will send Charlie,” she said-just as if such a person really existed-and then motioned to the driver to be off.
“That was a little cruel. We are perhaps her only salvation,” I said, which caused an air of coldness to come between us for an hour or so. It is an understood thing, in our particular conventions, that I do not attend alone upon females who have visited us. Caroline relented, however-though grudgingly at first-and hit upon a solution. There being a young gardener who had worked on and off about the place, she had him come to us and closeted herself alone with him.
He emerged looking rather awed, and after a longer interval than I thought was needful. He had agreed to present himself to Miriam, apparently, and was to call himself Charlie.
“I gave him three sovereigns for his future trouble, though no doubt Miriam will reimburse him, too,” said Caroline. I regarded her that old thrill of jealousy that I had previously known and have never quite lost even now.
“Presumably you took pains to discover whether he is fit for his future duties,” I said stiffly.
“By proxy, as it were,” she replied and laughed at my discomfiture, adding quickly, “Or at least, Adelaide did so and I had a look. She brought his standard up, but did no more than that. Really, my love, considering the license that I give you…”
“Because you like watching,” I said tightly.
“Yes, I do. And participating,” was her cool reply, “But since your moral attitudes have changed of a sudden then we will do no more entertaining.”
At that, she turned and went upstairs and closeted herself in her room. My sister had meanwhile gone out to guide the new “Charlie” to his destination. An awful silence followed. Women can be devilishly clever at this sort of game and have more patience for it than men do. Half an hour of continuing silence passed. I smoked a cigar, drank whisky, fretted. She would not open the bedroom door until I ascended. I knew that. Was she smiling up there, or were her lips still tightly pursed, and worse, would she tell Adelaide of my “childishness,” as she is wont to call it?
I gathered myself together. I suppose I knew the role I had to play and ventured slowly up, making each footfall sound as though I regretted it yet found it necessary. Entering the bedroom, I found her lying over the side of the bed in an indolent posture, her legs dangling and her gown a little ruffled up to show her knees.
“I suppose you want me to birch you,” said I, at which she covered her eyes by casting her forearm across them.
“Because I had a good look at his cock,” she said, and said it in a doleful tone.
“Caroline, turn over. Present yourself.”
She obeyed, though with every sign of reluctance and lay upon her belly with her bottom orbed in readiness while I took the birch down from the top of a wardrobe where if often lies in readiness. I turned and bared her bottom, for she wore no drawers. The perfect majesty of her cleft globe never ceases to thrill me. The skin is faintly gingery where her plump, firm cheeks inroll.
I swished her lightly and she squealed. I had no intent to hurt her, and she knew it well.
“Did you handle it, Caroline?” I asked sternly.
“Just a little to feel how stiff it was. I felt his balls as well, oooh-ah!”
The birch had swept across her bottom once again. Her predilection to be tingled up in this respect has never left her. The inheritance of girlish training always holds.
“You would have let him mount you, had I not been here.”
“Perhaps, yooo-aaar!”
It was a slightly harder cut.
“Tell me you wanted him to fuck you, Caroline.”
“I didn't, no! theeee-ooooh! All right-I did!”
“You wicked, wicked girl!” I knew it not to be true, and so did she, but in a moment thus it does not matter. All females have a Miriam inside them, though it does not subjugate them, make them act by rote as was the case with the lady who was the unspoken subject of this erotic interlude. I swished her once again, her bottom churned enticingly, the pink streaks showing clear across the lustrous bulb. I passed the birch from one hand to the other, reached down and felt the throbbing, silky warmth.
“Wh… wh… what are you doing? oooh! You shouldn't put your finger there!”
“Be quiet, my dear. Your growing amorousness is evident to me. It is time that you were spermed. Be still, I say, and keep your bottom up! Come, girl-now move your legs apart!”
“OH-WOH! It's naughty! No! You mustn't no!”
SMACK! SMACK! I made her blatant cheeks to quiver then, contracting to the splatting of my palm. She mewed, she whinnied, as I felt her sticky quim, the ridging of its lips in her excitement so desirable.
“OOOH-HOOO! I'm… m… mustn't let you-and besides, Mama may come!”
“Be quiet!” I growled. My stiffened prick was out, the knob presented to her queasy slit. I felt the curls, the plumpness, oiliness. She bucked and twisted, but I held her hips and nubbed my knob within her honeypot. Her head snapped up; she beat upon the bed.
“Don't, don't! Oh, it's too big! nooo-hooo!”
I clamped my palm across her mouth. Such roughness is requisite now and then, and Caroline-in such a mood-finds it exciting, as I know. One slewing motion of my cock and it was buried to the hilt. Her bottom rolled its sleek, hemispheres against my belly, then was still. She gurgled and I loosed my fingers just a little. Then I got my loins to work. She snuffled, hissed her breath out through her nose.