I did not exactly care about being treated as an absolute baby, and as such Beatrice and Sophie between them treated me.
Will it be believed, that, on our very wedding night, Beatrice locked me up in my dressing room, while she was being put to bed?
When once there, Sophie led me into my wife's room like a lamb to the slaughter.
As Beatrice lay in all her finery, Sophie undressed me before her, and put me to bed naked, not without a very careful examination and display of me. Then she undressed and got into the same bed herself.
I loudly protested, whereupon Beatrice held me, while Sophie smacked me.
"If you think Mademoiselle's lessons are thrown away upon me you are greatly mistaken," said Beatrice.
"I wish to have you all to myself. You are mine," I asserted.
"You are greatly in error," rejoined Beatrice, "you are mine. Lie down. Now I can have this fellow," she asserted, grasping him, "and Sophie 394
will see that I do have him. Put him in! I don't want any nonsense. Sophie will see that you do it properly."
"Certainly, Milady," answered Sophie. "Now, Milord!"
Without any compunction this French damsel got her hand under me and inserted me into Beatrice, to whom, impelled by Sophie's hand, I gave too soon an evidence of passion if not of affection.
"It is all your own fault," I said, beyond myself.
"Fetch a birch, Sophie," directed my wife, holding me tightly with her arms and legs.
Sophie, with very great alacrity, skipped off for a birch.
As soon as Beatrice saw her maid re-enter the room, she stretched out her alabaster thighs and placed me between them, grasping me vigorously with her hands, in a manner which obliged me to catch my breath and to cry out. Being hauled about in this violent and masterful mode convulsed my being to its foundations, and caused me to tremble with delight.
Without explanation, request, or hesitation, she placed me against her, and clasping me with her powerful limbs, she said peremptorily: "Now, Julian, get in-right in."
She wriggled and pressed against me-pushed and pushed-so did I. She was very tight, and the accomplishment of her desire occupied some time, and necessitated considerable effort. She flushed violently and her pulse very much quickened. She began to look love sick, her eyes drooped and her lips grew moist, and opening slightly, shew her perfect teeth.
"Come-come, Julian!"
The effect of all this upon me may be imagined. It very nearly brought about the crisis before its time as on the first occasion. I pushed and pushed. Beatrice seconded my efforts.
"There," said my wife, at length, "there, now I have him right up to the hilt. Oh, how delightful! Now, do not slip! Now, Julian, now let me know how you love me-now," biting my lips and casting down her eyes, "now… fuck me!"
The word made me jump. Beatrice was so tight and grasped me so closely, so like a close, tight kid glove, that I felt as if I were in a vice-and although she kept up sufficient mechanical excitement to prevent my instrument decreasing, yet the physical destroyed the intellectual emotion, and I knew well as I drew a deep sigh, that there was no hope of an orgasm being accomplished like this, and very great danger before long of my shrinking out of her.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Beatrice, as Sophie stood beside us, an idle spectator, with a birch in her hand, and with a very amused and yearning expression upon her features, and as she and I gave ourselves up to the throes of the love struggle: "Oh, I declare, I can feel him at the mouth of my womb! Oh, Julian! Oh, Julian!" and she bit and pressed my lips, and breathed stentoriously. "Oh, Julian! Now!"
I contemplated her face. I drank in the love which flamed from her eyes. I gazed at her neck.
My wife looked at me with astonishment and contempt.
"Indeed, you deserved the petticoats," she exclaimed.
"Sophie, uncover him, whip him, birch his bottom severely, until he satisfies my desire, dastard bridegroom that he is! You shall catch it for this, Julian!"
Sophie pulled the bedclothes right down, discovering me naked between my wife's legs.
"Yes, Milady, I will birch him," said the pretty girl. "To be a log between his bride's legs, Mon Dieu! I will make him feel."
Beatrice contracted her legs and arms, holding me more tightly. Sophie raised her rod, made it whistle through the air, and it fell with a terribly stinging blow upon my defenceless buttocks. I felt it lessened my chance of success. But Beatrice announced her determination of having the punishment continued until I complied with her requirements. The birch had been well pickled and it hurt confoundedly; I could not, however, get away from those strong legs. Swish, swish, swish.
Sophie calmly scanned me all the time in my nakedness. She slipped her hand behind and played with my testicles. Swish, swish, swish, she then recommenced; I bounded up and down; so did Beatrice. "Oh!" I exclaimed at length, and Beatrice's eyes flashed.
"Harder, Sophie!"
Sophie, with a calm smile, continued her study of my anatomy, and the regular administration, slow and methodical, of her stripes, which, delivered as they were by a well-balanced and elastic birch, were very hard to bear.
Beatrice shut her mouth, and a curious smile overspread her face. I am sure she wondered how long I should hold out. In her glance there was a glimpse of unexpressed admiration.
Then she said, "Harder," and, needless to narrate, Sophie gladly obeyed.
"Whip well in," directed my wife.
Sophie, changing her position, delivered the strokes more between my legs.
I began to feel an unusual glow of warmth about my buttocks and thighs. In front, too, there was a sensation of strength caused by the increased flow of blood, attracted by the operation of the birch, more than by erotic images which should have caused the blood to flow in those regions in fuller streams.
Women are, indeed, very scientific in the matter. The birch is an admirable substitute for passion; and I suppose it is this connection with love functions that prevents a woman from ever referring to or hearing a reference to the birch without blushing.
"Beatrice!" I murmured.
"You good-for-nothing block! What is the matter with you?"
I clasped her soft, fleshy form-warm and flowing with life-more closely to me. I fell upon it in the enervation of love.
Beatrice made a signal to Sophie and the rod was suspended in the air. I wished more ardently than I can express that I had been covered and had not had to discharge this office naked under Sophie's keen and curious eyes; but I was not covered, I was fully displayed before her, and I knew she watched with eager attention my quickly accumulating passion.
Beatrice gave little calls and cries of love.
"You good boy, Julian, after all! I can feel you increasing, swelling inside me, filling me, gratifying all my longings. You good boy! Oh, oh, oh!"
Then the sense of being possessed by a female came to me. It struck me where I was, and, convulsed with passion, I injected into Beatrice, under all the auspices of marriage, that warm infusion, that germinating fluid, that essence of myself, which she claimed and demanded as my wife.
Before the spasm had completed itself, Sophie put her cool little hand on the cord of the instrument between my legs. The shock of the touch fanned the dying embers again into a flame.
Beatrice was thoroughly satisfied.
"I felt you regularly inside me-in my womb, Julian. Nothing can please a woman more."
Then she kissed me and permitted me to lie beside her. Sophie put out the lights and jumped into bed; and indeed I was asleep almost as soon as I was conscious that she had done so, for I was quite exhausted.
We spent that day at Dover and the night at the same hotel, Beatrice enjoying the freedom with me alone so much that she was quite content that we should stay where we were; but on the following day we went on to Paris on our way to Switzerland.