When we were in bed, she lay on her side nestling close up to me, while I kissed her soft, warm lips, and played the her delicious bubbies.
Then, pulling up her nightdress above her waist, I laid my hand gently on her bottom, finding that it was still rough with weals, and so tender that the light touch of my fingers made her shrink. “Oh; don’t touch it!” she exclaimed. I removed my hand, but I rubbed my prick against her belly, saying: “Do you think you could bear to let me ‘do it’ to you?”
“I am afraid not,” she replied. “My bottom is too sore to bear the least pressure. And I don’t think we can manage ‘it’ lying on our sides, face to face.”
As my prick was almost bursting, I determined to have a poke somehow or other; but I was puzzled for a moment to know how I could “have” her without more or less pressing her bottom. Then I remembered the “wheelbarrow” position. It is an awkward way of poking a woman, and one that I do not care for; therefore I had never shown it to Frances, although I had “had” her in every other fancy position. However, I resolved to poke her in that way now. So I said: “I can do it to you in a way that will not put the least pressure on your bottom; you won’t have to lie on it, and I won’t touch it. But you will find the position rather uncomfortable.”
“Oh, I don’t care what position you put me in, so long as you don’t hurt my sore bottom!” she said without hesitation, and at the same time squeezing my prick with her soft hand.
“We shall have to get out of bed to do it,” I observed.
She at once jumped out of bed, saying, with a little laugh: “Come along then!” I followed her, and turned up the wick of the shaded lamp which we always kept burning throughout the night. The room was now well-lighted, and Frances looked very charming in her long white nightdress, her pretty little bare feet showing under the hem of the lace-trimmed garment, as she stood with a puzzled expression on her face, evidently wondering how I could possibly poke her without touching her bottom.
She was soon enlightened! Lifting her up in my arms, I turned her upside down, with her feet in the air, and with her hands resting on the floor at the full extent of her arms; her nightdress falling over her head, and leaving the whole of her body naked. Then I made her put her legs round my neck, while I held her round the waist with my hands clasped on her belly, so that I supported her weight, and took the strain off her arms. Thus her body was in a slanting position; and as her bottom was uppermost, her cunt was just on a level with my prick. Then, by slightly bending my knees, and at the same time curving my back, I easily forced the weapon into the sheath, and began to poke her by moving my loins backwards and forwards. She did the same, and we had a satisfactory though rather cramped poke; during which, her wealed, red-striped, sore bottom was never once touched, or rubbed against in any way.
When all was over, I put her on her feet, and she remarked, with a laugh: “Well, you managed it very nicely; but I must say it is a very uncomfortable position. It makes all the blood run into one’s head.”
Then we got into bed again, and soon fell asleep.
Next morning, before getting up, I made her lie on her face outside the bed, with her nightdress up to her shoulders, so that I might make a thorough inspection of the state of her bottom.
It was very much disfigured, and it looked very sore-as no doubt it was. Cicatrices had formed over the broken places on the skin, which was very red, and the weals still showed very plainly.
However, her flesh was healthy, and it soon healed; but it was some time before all the marks had disappeared; and her pretty bottom had recovered its lily-like whiteness.
We got out of bed and had a poke “wheelbarrow” fashion; then we dressed and went down to breakfast with good appetites.
A week afterwards, I took Frances to Boulogne where we remained a month; bathing together nearly every day; and my pretty sweetheart looked most charming in her bathing costume. In fact, she was so enticing in it, that I often poked her in the bathing-machine after she had come out of the water dripping and rosy, looking like some beautiful sea nymph.
On leaving Boulogne, we went back to London, and I lived at the villa; occasionally paying a visit to Oakhurst for a few days, just to see how things were getting on. When the grouse-shooting began, I went to Scotland, and stayed a fortnight with my friend in Argyllshire. I spent September at Oakhurst, partridge shooting; and in October, I took Francis abroad again.
Volume Three
XVI
I will now pass over a space of three years. Frances was twenty-four years of age, and I was nearly forty. During the time that had passed, we had got on very well together; and I never again had had to find fault with her for any lightness of conduct; though she was much admired wherever we went, and she always had men dangling after her in the various hotels we stayed at when we were on the Continent. However, as she never permitted her admirers to become familiar, I did not mind her amusing herself by flirting a little. Brooke, we had never seen again.
Though Frances had never been unfaithful to me, I must confess that I had been occasionally unfaithful to her; simply out of desire for a change. But I never once had come across a woman who had a better figure, or who was a more delicious poke, than my sweetheart.
I had not constantly lived with her, but had spent part of my rime at Oakhurst; also going once a year to Scotland. And I had always taken her to some seaside place for a month in the summer, and had also taken her abroad part of every winter. We had visited Spain, and Algiers; and one year I had taken her for a six weeks cruise up the Mediterranean in one of the yachting steamers.
I had never again birched her, though I had occasionally given her a sound spanking; which she had invariably taken without making any fuss, other than the little squeals of pain she uttered, and the tears she shed while smarting under the operation. We were still fond of each other in a placid son of way, like old married people; and we both enjoyed our nights when we were together.
I had, however, latterly often caught myself wondering how it was all going to end: for I had an idea that sooner or later, I should find the connection irksome, and want to put an end to it. So, in view of that contingency, I had invested a sum of money in Frances’ name. in various safe shares and securities which were paying well; therefore in the event of our parting company, she would have a very fair income. After all, it was the least I could do for the woman whom I had seduced, and who had always been faithful to me.
I never said a word to Frances about the money I had set aside for her; and she appeared to be perfectly happy in her little house whenever I was with her; and when I was away she always wrote to me in good spirits.
But to resume the thread of my story. It was the end of November and I had just arrived at King’s Cross station, after an absence of two months, which had been spent at various country houses; and during the time I had been away, I had never seen Frances, nor had I once poked a woman; consequently I was eagerly looking forward to the moment when I should hold my pretty sweetheart in my arms.
I reached the villa about five o’clock, and was received in a most affectionate manner by Frances, who was looking very lovely in a pretty frock of some soft, dark material, cut square at the neck, showing the upper part of her white bosom. We sat down cosily beside the fire, in the well-lit, prettily furnished little drawing-room, and while Frances busied herself making the tea, I told her all about the various people with whom I had been staying. She poured out a cup of tea and brought it to me, standing behind my chair while I sipped the refreshing beverage, and every now and then bending over to give me a kiss.