The company of younger females, willing, eager, yes! Young ladies have a way of wreaking their revenge on others in a curious way. Now is the time'. 'Are you fit so soon? She has a lovely bottom-is that where the dart is to be aimed?' Jane asked, and bit her lip at such plain impudence. 'You read my mind as well as you would a book, my dear. I perceive in you something also of a voyeuse. Is that not so?' 'Ladies, sir, do not always answer direct questions. Suffice to say that there are certain visual experiences that I appreciate-perhaps enjoy', my sister answered coyly. 'And you, Emily?', he asked. 'I said, did I not, we would assist'. I hesitated- having seldom a bold tongue-but then drew breath and added, if you wish to really know, then yes, I would like to see her bottomhole expanded by your prick: the opening of her rose. Is that not what it is called?' 'It is called by various names-as for instance plugging a girl, corking her derriere, or more plainly buggering or sodomising her, though for neither of those latter words do I have much taste. They have not the voluptuousness one seeks, nor any touch of sensuousness. I have known ladies who preferred it that way to the more normal mode. As to yourselves?' 'Oh, we take it as it comes', Jane laughed, and was quite obviously delighted with her pun. In a moment we had ascended to the upper deck. Through its windows I perceived the water-wanderers, the boaters on the river's moving surface, and thought of the great apartness of all people, and how what we were doing, and were about to do, would remain unknown to those who moved beyond, so close to us, and how their actions, too-whether innocent or perverse-would remain totally unknown to us forever amid all the ever-changing scenes of life. It is not good to think thus: one feels strange and utterly apart. In a moment, though, my more immediate anticipations returned and warmed themselves as if before a fire. Passing along the passageway, or whatever it might be called on such strange habitations, there appeared from a doorway the figure of our hostess who had discarded her chemise and wore only the peignoir, held so lightly about her figure that her bosom and her thighs were seen. The door to the bedroom remaining open, I spied George sitting on the bed, naked as the day that he was born. His penis hung limp and a blue bow of silk adorned its root, as though it were a gift to be presented, though patently its recent contents had been drawn upon. 'What is to do, my pet?', she asked of Arnold. 'I am to see to Catherine, my love. These young ladies had kindly volunteered assistance'. 'They have, they will? How utterly divine of them! You will not need me then?', she asked in such wheedling tone as a younger female employs when she hopes to receive something that may surprise her pleasantly. 'In a certain sense I shall, my pet. George may be put to her afterwards-if he is fit-and by the same route that I intend to follow. If you would see to his revival, I will call you when the minx has had her bun well buttered'.
Time it is, dear Arnold, time indeed, or she will need to be returned to the paternal fold untutored, and that would not do at all.
He is quite fuming to present himself to her', said she, and at that she winked at me and closed the door, her voice heard saying, 'George, lie down!' As to Catherine, she sensed at once some purport of our entrance into her abode and sprang up from off her bed defensively. 'Oh-have you come to apologise?', she asked with hope that faded quickly after one long look at us. 'I, dear Catherine, have come to present you with a compliment', said Arnold, and wrapped his arms around her so suddenly that she had no time to retreat. 'What are you about?', she screeched. Her calves swung as he raised her feet from off the floor and flung her willy-nilly on her face down on the bed, exhorting us at the same time to throw her dress up and remove her drawers. 'No, no! You shame me! Don't!', she howled while, business-like, we gathered up her pink, silk gown and uncovered the most heavenly of legs sheathed in fine stockings of a matching shade, with rose-red garters and-to my surprise-white, frilly drawers when I had expected a bold, naked bottom. Arnold held her shoulders firmly while we got them off despite her kicks, the strong thrusts of her legs. 'You beasts! I'll tell Papa!', she screeched, arms flailing wildly like a bird with broken wings.
'Oh, Catherine, what a lovely bottom!', Jane exclaimed. The skin was milky, flawless, and the twin globes as round as the two halves of a split apple yet resilient as rubber, warm as toast. 'Toy with her first. I will hold her up', said Arnold wherewith, to a wild cry from Catherine, he eased his free arm underneath her belly and by main force lifted it so that it poised three inches off the bed, her feet scrabbling to take purchase on the floor, but all in vain. She was deliriously elevated, ready for our fingers and our tongues, her vain cries pealing through the air. 'Emily, twist on your back and put your mouth up to her quim', said Jane-a throaty thrumming of excitement in her voice. I could scarce see how I could, for my back would be precariously supported on the bed's edge, but by digging my heels into the carpet and with Jane a-straddling me and gripping my slim waist between her legs, I managed the quaintly acrobatic act and lay face up beneath the girl's furred quim while my sister bent and thumbed her bottom cheeks apart to run her tongue around her puckered rose. 'THOO-AH!', moaned Catherine while Arnold gripped the nape of her neck and pressed her face into the quilt, I in that moment sleeking up my tongue and finding that small bud at the upper meeting of her lovelips which extols desire from even the most frigid of females, given she is firmly held. 'Mmmm…', came from Jane who evidently had snaked her tongue into the girl's warm bottomhole.
'MA-MA! MA-MA!', moaned Catherine in smothered tones. In her up-slung position her tummy was supported both by my up-reaching hands and by Arnold's arms, and from the wild movements of her fine, long legs, I knew her feet to be raised from off the floor. -'No, no, no, no!', whined Catherine, but her cunny by then was moistening well. The sleek folds of her cunny parted to my tongue. I sought within and found the silken walls and heard her whimpering as Jane, too, titillated her. 'Do not let her come, my pets. My prick will do that', I heard Arnold say. 'Her bottom is open for you now', said Jane, and at that I slithered-back down-on the floor as my sister stepped aside, though gripping the girl's rich buttocks in her hands, as I saw on rising. 'He can't! He mustn't! Oh, dear heavens, save me- let me rise!', screeched Catherine. 'Fetch the birch, Emily.
I have one ready in the cupboard there', said Arnold, pointing as he spoke. A letch-as men are wont to call it-came upon me then to see it done: to see, perhaps, how Jane herself had looked when being trestled. Had her legs kicked much as Catherine's might, and had her bottom reddened, had she screeched as this girl surely would? There was in me a hardness I had not expected-a sense of that 'revenge' of which Arnold had spoken, though I knew not the source of that emotion nor-its real direction. The implement being quickly found, I turned back to the bed where Catherine was alternating pleas with imprecations all the while that Arnold held her neck and Jane her bottom cheeks, her fingers well pressed into the proud flesh. Was I to swish the twigs? I knew not how to, though. Indeed, there is an art to it, for only a third or so of the bunched teasers should hiss a path across an offered orb, and even so with artfulness, not rage. The wrist should act with suppleness. I speak in hindsight, having learned much since. 'I will do it, Emily. Come, hold her neck. Keep a firm grip thereon-ignore her howls. She may have to become more used to this in future weeks'. 'I won't-no never! Don't you dare!', cried Catherine while my hand slid beneath his own, and I extending the birch to him. 'You, Jane, sit on the bed and ring her waist', came the command, the which my sister gladly did, her legs askew and facing him, as I was with my feet tucked under me. 'I will do anything!', squealed Catherine in pleading, though she most obviously knew not what she said. 'You are going to', replied Arnold coldly. Taking up position at her bumptious rear, he tapped her with the twigs and brought a nervous squeak from her. 'Don't, please! I will let you-honestly!' 'After your medicine, no doubt you will, but pray remember, Catherine, that it is not I alone you have to please. There are other pricks that wait, my sweet, to invade your bottomhole and squirt their urging juices in. Your bottom cheeks will positively bloom with all the nourishment they will receive'.