“My dear…” he began.
“You were not summoned to speak, but to obey, sir!” snapped my stepmother who made such a small, menacing movement in his direction that he fell to his knees upon the instant and, raising the wide hem of Clarissa’s dress, laved his mouth greedily over the polished toes of her shoes. Feet slightly apart, she did not stir.
“You may have him kiss your thighs before you retire tonight, Clarissa. He will kneel to do so, but his lips will attempt nothing else.”
“Yes,” was Clarissa’s quiet response. She stepped back smoothly but quickly then, causing his mouth to fall upon the carpet so that with the most foolish of expressions on his face he rose awkwardly and stared as though lost from one to the other.
“You may go,” my stepmother told him distantly. “Follow three paces behind her at all times.”
“Of course.” He stumbled and sought rather humbly to meet Clarissa’s eyes but she had turned away and swept in ladylike fashion into the hall.
“Another convert!” my stepmother laughed as their carriage departed. My mind, however, was on other matters.
“What did you mean about Sarah?” I asked, whereat her eyes took on a different look.
“She is to be put up to the cock in a manner that will teach her the best of lessons,” I was told, but could gain no more from her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For the next few days Sarah avoided me as much as possible and spoke coolly to me only when necessary. When I mentioned this to my stepmother-who was equally distant with her-she waved her hand airily and said, “She will learn.”
“When shall I?” I asked pertly, making her laugh.
“Do you want to?” was her response, and we both knew what was meant. I was torn for a reply and she, seeing this, asked, “Who with?” Again I could not bring myself to answer.
Finally I blurted out, “I want to. Like Clarissa.”
“How grown up you are in all reality, Clara! I mean to take you by the hardest route now, for nothing else will suffice. So far you have obeyed me. Do you promise to continue to do so?”
I nodded, being eager to please, though little knew my fate.
“What a pity,” she went on, “that Sarah has proved recalcitrant and quite unexciting, though I mean to get her over the hump. It brings me to a solution I did not yet intend, but sooner or later the full circle must be drawn. So long as it remains incomplete then we cannot draw other females and male serfs into the arena. You understand what I am saying, Clara?
For a full minute my mind remained blank, then as some intimation came to me of what she meant by completing the circle, I swallowed and stared at her and my lips quavered.
“It will be all right, you know,” she said gently.
“B… b… but… Sarah,” I blurted.
“She has been difficult, hasn’t she, but she will soon get over it. There is nothing nicer in all the world than bringing all together and having things nice and trim. One day you will wish to make your own way in such matters and I shall not impede you. You will see then even better how necessary it is to have free rein and not to have forever to arrange the training of young ladies and, of course, of males behind closed doors. The sense of freedom you will obtain will be infinite. You will, as a sage said, wear life like an old cloak.”
Until then perhaps it had all seemed to me like a bizarre game, but now it was clear that her intent was wholly serious.
It was at this time mid-morning and I had seen nothing of Robert whose manner remained pleasingly dutiful and quiet to us both. Upon asking where he was-which I did partly to distract my thoughts-my stepmother gave a mischievous grin and replied,
“I believe Bertha has made him ready. Come upstairs with me:”
On the stairs we passed Bertha who gave my stepmother a nod as if to say that all was well and then passed down. “You are going to milk him,” then was said to me and with trembling excitement I followed along the upper hallway and together we entered his room.
There to my profound astonishment he sat upon his bed attired in a chemise that I recognised as one of Sarah’s-a rather pretty blue one with white lace at the hem and neckline-stockings and shoes. His hair had been well brushed and there was rouge both upon his cheeks and on his lips which doubtless Bertha had applied. At our entrance he sprang up, the flurrying movement of his feminine garment betraying the gathered legs of a pair of white batiste drawers around his thighs.
“Robert! How sweet you look!” our stepmother cooed while he stood awkwardly with hands to his sides and blushed to see me regarding him. “Does he not?” came then and the door was firmly closed. While I scarcely knew whether or not to nod, she snapped to my brother to hold his head up well and stand in the centre of the floor the better that “she” could be inspected, as she said. So shuffling forward-and being then reprimanded for not stepping more daintily-Robert presented himself the better and gazed past me at the door. “The sweet thing is not yet fully accustomed to her new attire, but soon will be. Do you not like the feel of stockings up your legs, Roberta?”
“I d… d… do not m… m… mind,” stammered he.
“Do not mind indeed! Why they are lovely and of the finest silk. Feel up under her chemise to feel her garters, Clara!”
I would have blushed myself had I not now known better, but knew I must put a boldness on in front of him. Besides, being slim of figure and having a remarkably smooth skin, my brother indeed did look sweet, though his toes moved uneasily in the tight feminine shoes. Steeling myself and not without an intense fluttering of excitement, I approached close to him and ran my hand up beneath the lacy hem of the chemise, causing him of course to tremble. I felt the ridge of his stocking tops, the ruffling of the garters and then the warm skin rising up above.
“Go on, Clara. See if he is hard. I know you want to.”
My fingers crept like spiders to their prey. Robert jerked his hips but otherwise kept still and I knew that I was tickling him a little but could not help myself, so tentative at first my explorations were. The drawers being thin, I could feel first the heavy hang of his balls with my fingertips which felt all around and beneath them. My breathing sounded softly and I could feel my pulses racing as he stood passive under our stepmother’s eyes while I sought the stem of his prick.
“Yes,” I husked.
“Yes, what, Clara?”
“His prick is hard,” I managed to convey.
“The naughty thing, and one pair of drawers already wet in his excitement. Should she not be spanked?”
I giggled. Robert’s prick was thrusting out mightily through the soft cloth of his drawers and felt like a tentpole.
“As you said downstairs, Clara, a naughty girl does need to be. Turn her around and pull her drawers down. Make her bend over the bed!”
I thought Robert would resist, but he did not, though his eyes pleaded, but not entirely for salvation, I thought. Beneath the urging of my hands he turned full about and placed his palms upon the bed while I, flipping up his chemise with rising pleasure, untied his drawers and let them flutter down. In profile his penis was now to be seen at full stand.
“Now, Clara, stand to one side of him-that side, yes-and cup his balls firmly while I smack him.”
Robert’s gender seemed to change from moment to moment, but it did not matter. His plums nestled warmly on my palm, and heavily. I did not squeeze them, for some instinct told me not to, then heard his wincing cry as our stepmother’s hand landed SMACK! upon his bared bottom. Then came SMACK! again and I saw a glinting of tears come into his eyes which I divined were not entirely of pain. A pink hue showed on his white skin where her palm had blasted in.
“Now, Clara, hold his cock loosely. Ring it in your fingers and let it move back and forth while I spank him. He will come soon enough, far it stimulates as much as it stings, does it not, Roberta?”