“All right,” my stepmother snapped. She sensed exactly, it seemed, when Clarissa might come on and spill her dew. I had been about, in fact, to delve my face up right between her thighs and bring her fur upon my mouth. A little disappointed that this final pleasure had not been afforded me, I rose, quivering with excitement, while with a sudden movement my stepmother swung Clarissa up into a standing position and whirled her around so that their bodies bumped together, face to face.
“Now, my dear, you will be quiet,” came in a steely tone.
“You… you… you…” moaned Clarissa wildly, her skirts still wreathed up and her bottom a perfect glory of pink and white.
“Yes, I–I, Julia,” came my stepmother’s response and with that she dragged the young woman’s head back and forced her to stare full into her eyes. Even as I had been, Clarissa appeared mesmerised, her chin gripped commandingly and one hand cupped beneath her naked bottom.
“Go, Clara-I will bring her down in a moment,” I was told. Disappointment showed clear in my expression yet I did unquestioningly as I was told. There are moments, as I learned, when there should be no witnesses to what is said or done. Descending to the drawing room, I felt an air of awkwardness obtaining.
“What is to do?” Sarah asked me rather pertly, though I could have sworn that she knew very well what was to do, for some scuffling at least must have made itself heard.
“Clarissa is being tutored,” I said casually and gave her a slightly cold look for asking so open a question. A silence then obtained as if no one knew what to say, all minds being busy above stairs, so to speak. “Will the gentleman not have more wine?” I asked and then in a sharper tone than I intended, said to Robert, “See, please, to his glass.”
Clarissa’s guardian cleared his throat, his eyes not being above perusing both Sarah’s breasts and thighs as well as my own. It was the first command, if it could be called such, that I had ever given to my brother, he being more used to ordering me about, and I was no doubt as much surprised as he when without question he rose to oblige, not so much out of courtesy I felt as at receiving an order from a female. Going to the sideboard, he obtained the bottle and was in mid-stride with it when our stepmother appeared leading Clarissa, who looked unconscionably pale.
“That will not be needed, Robert,” we were told. My brother then stared from her to me and then back to my stepmother, which I was vaguely pleased at, as though he were caught between two fires. Being urged forward gently, Clarissa sat in a chair neighbouring that of her guardian. We were then as an audience might be that waits the rising of the curtain. The bottle was replaced upon the sideboard.
“An air of expectancy reigns,” my stepmother smiled. Totally in command of us as she was, she took the centre of the floor so that we gazed on her as pupils do a Mistress. Her words were cleverly put, for no one could comment upon them. She waited a moment as if daring one or another to do so and then clapped her hands, making us jump, or making at least myself jump. At that Bertha appeared, dangling the little whip in her hand, and with her a tall, slim youth close to Robert’s age whom I had seen about their cottage on the estate. I knew him as a labourer but upon this occasion he wore what might have been styled his Sunday best-narrow black trousers and a white shirt.
“Excellent,” my stepmother said and, while all looked a trifle apprehensive as Bertha turned the key in the lock, went on blandly, “We now have three males to three females here. Of them all perhaps Charlie is the better trained, for you have seen to him well, have you not, Bertha?”
“That I have, m’am. He’s allowed a sniff or two around me but no more than that if you don’t count his queenings.”
The meaning of that last word being unknown to me, I sat fair still. Sarah and Clarissa had turned into statues. Robert was transfixed. As for Clarissa’s guardian, he made play at first to be intrinsically interested in a tidying of his cravat.
“Yes,” my stepmother said. She crooked her finger and the young man approached, looking neither wary nor nervous but as one in a dream who is hailed to step towards a goddess. “Do you like it, Charlie? Do you like what is done to you?” was asked him softly.
He shuffled thereat, seeming not to be able to meet her eyes-or wishing so much to do so that he did not dare. “I have my obediences, m’am,” he murmured, the statement producing a broad smile from my stepmother who, turning, asked of us, “You see? One here at least knows his obediences, as you all shall. Robert-you will lie down in the centre of the floor as will Charlie. Head to feet I will have you, and about a foot apart.”
I heard Sarah swallow. Clarissa shifted in her chair. No sooner were the words spoken, however, than Charlie slid down on to his back and I saw now the reason why my stepmother had disposed of so many oddments of furniture. There was room for all to move. Robert was hesitating, but a further snapped command brought him up. He moved stiffly, shaking not a little and then laid himself down in the manner ordained so that his head came level with Charlie’s feet. At that, Bertha moved into the room and came closer to my stepmother, so that I knew a further drama was to ensue. All eyes were on her whip.
Clarissa’s guardian made as though to rise and then sank down again. “I think…” he began.
“You may indeed do that but be quiet about it,” came the cold reply. “I will have no arrogance of male wishes here. Think you that you have come to a playground for your lusts, or a brothel? Has he learned to dip?” my stepmother asked of Bertha, inclining her eyes towards Charlie who lay quiet and supine, his fingers clenched, as did Robert.
“Full well he has, m’am, and keeps it there long minutes when he is called to.”
“Good. The art is one that Robert has to learn, but soon now shall. Sarah, Clarissa-get up!”
“Oh! can I not go upstairs?” Sarah wailed.
“Later, my dear, when you are fit and ready for it. Stand forward both of you and side by side. Bertha-tie their hands. I will have no nonsenses.”
“Mama! I beg you!” cried my sister, but Bertha was already bustling past her to the sideboard where-all having evidently been prepared in advance-several lengths of cord were to be found. A quavering “No!” came from Sarah who stared over her shoulder at what was revealed, whereat my stepmother, advancing on the pair, seized both their chins and all but barked, “Heads up! Look straight ahead! Hands behind your backs!”
Sarah began to cry. I expected her to. Clarissa paled but did not struggle, In a trice they were bound with arms behind them. The young lady’s guardian appeared as one spellbound.
“P… p… please do not whip us,” Sarah burst, and was ignored.
“Draw their dresses up and wreath them to their hips, Clara.”
“No!” came a screaming cry from both, yet all was done in a flash and Sarah-having no drawers on and Clarissa’s evidently being left upstairs-both stood with bellies, pussies, bare, and thighs unveiled. Their heads hung. How sweetly desolate they stood!
“Sir-you will sit upright and upon this chair,” Bertha then said, bringing forward a plain wooden one with straight arms. Her words were of course directed to Clarissa’s guardian who looked as dumbstruck as a man might be.
“Look here, I say!” he expostulated, but at that my stepmother moved quickly to him and so grasped his hair at the back of his head that he cried out and flailed his arms, though not daring to strike her.
“Up! Up!” she spat, whereat like a craven schoolboy he allowed himself to be raised (I swear with tears starting in his eyes at the way she tugged) and was rapidly flopped down into the plain deal chair to which Bertha then swiftly tied his wrists and then his ankles which were secured to the legs of the chair. His knees thus being drawn apart, he looked a total prisoner.