"Oh, Dennis, don't cover those lovely things. I came to see them too!" Guy laughed, pulling my arm away from my chest with his free hand. "I want to put my lips on your girlish titties, Dennis. Let me suck your titties!"
Without waiting for an answer from me, Guy plunged his head down upon my chest and hungrily began to suckle at my soft pink nipple.
Oh, if I could describe to you the exquisite joy and heated pleasure that I felt course through every inch of my flesh! No one's hands but my own had ever stroked or paid lusty attentions to my secret boobies. And now, in a moment's time, Guy Repton had fallen upon me, and with his lips he kissed and bit and sucked my tit. With his hand, he reached between my soft thighs and took my cock in his hand and began to stroke and fondle the shaft of my pulsing member. I could feel his strong rod bulging against my thigh and the weight and force of his body and mine, the way he was dominating me was exhilarating. I arched my back involuntarily to meet the kisses that he continued to lavish upon one nipple and then the other.
"Oh! Oh! Guy!" I moaned, my pleasure very nearly exploding.
Just as I was about to shoot my seed into Guy's fist, the door of my dormitory room burst open. There in the frame of the door, his face lit underneath from a kerosene lamp, was the dormitory master.
I shrieked and recoiled from the light that the headmaster brought in with him, while Guy shouted and tumbled off of me and the bed. He tried to madly scramble underneath the bed, but of course it was a futile attempt at escape. I was horrified and utterly shattered that I did not get to finish my passions. And I knew, as did Guy, that we would both be expelled for our "disgraceful" behaviour.
The events that immediately followed at the school were dreary, and I was very glad to get away from the dreadful place as soon as I had been booted. Had I known that the episode was the greatest thing that could have happened to me at the time, I would not have been so ashamed. As it was, I feared Helen's wrath, and thought about it the whole ride home. Well, almost all of the ride… if the truth be told, I did offer a moment here or there to the delicious memory of Guy Repton's hand on my cock and his pretty mouth clamped upon my nipple.
Accordingly I returned home, and nobody knew what to do with me. I could not go to another school. I was too young for the University. I stayed at home for six months. My father was already sickening with his last illness. There was no one to control me; and no doubt I bullied the servants, was tyrannical and threatening to the tenants, rude to Helen, and contemptuous of Miss. Priscilla. Miss. Priscilla had precise old-maidish neatnesses which it was a pleasure to me to offend. I would stamp about the drawing room in noisy muddy boots and fling myself on delicately upholstered sofas in dirty football clothes. These things I delighted to do because I saw how much they shocked her and offended Helen. Finally Helen made a suggestion to my father that I should be sent around the world with a tutor for a year. My father was delighted with the idea. He was very ambitious for me. He was unwilling to face the disturbing realities of my unusual feminine persona.
"There is no reason, my boy, why you should make money. I have done that. You must make a famous name. Marry and begin a great family which shall be associated with the history of the country."
Oh, how well I remember him saying that! Helen and Miss. Priscilla were both at his bedside at the time, and both were looking at me with enigmatic smiles, which, of course, I now understand.
"You must go into Parliament, become a Cabinet Minister, perhaps Prime Minister. Therefore go round the world Dennis and improve your mind."
I went, grateful to Helen, but after I had started, I began to wonder whether Helen had not some ulterior purpose. Whether she had not removed me from my father's neighbourhood in order to oust me by slander from his affections and rob me of my inheritance. I wrote to him, warning him against Helen and Miss. Priscilla.
"They are, both of them, designing women, I am sure. They wish to intrigue me out of my proper position as your son."
It was an unfortunate letter, for it ultimately came into Helen's hands. But at the same time it had its influence on my father. A couple of months later, I received a telegram announcing my father's death and that he had bequeathed the whole of his immense fortune to me, with a request that I should make Helen such an allowance as I thought sufficient for her and Miss. Priscilla. There was, however, a thorn in that, as in every rose. I was not to come into my inheritance until I was twenty-five, and until that time, Helen was appointed my guardian. I resented the idea of being subject to Helen, who certainly hated me. At this time she was only twenty years old herself. However I reflected that I had the upper hand. She would be absolutely dependent upon me and my money for her meals.
I returned to London where I found a letter from Helen asking me to go and see Mr. Willowes, the solicitor. Now Mr. Willowes was a friend of Helen's and she had removed the entire affairs of the family from our old solicitor, who had looked after them for twenty years, and put them into this new man's hands. I went to see him in a haughty mood of displeasure.
"I don't approve of the change," I said foolishly, "and I shall restore the business into the hands of our old solicitor when I come of age."
Mr. Willowes, a young sardonic looking man, twirled his moustache with an ironic smile.
"It is very kind of you to give me warning. Meanwhile here is your first-class railway ticket to Beaumanoir. I have paid off your tutor. Miss. Deverel expects you this afternoon and if you will take a word of advice, young gentleman, you will change your tone with her. You are sixteen and a half. She has complete control of you for the next eight years and I rather think that she has had quite enough of your ill manners and bad behaviour. Good morning."
Wild with rage, I was shown out of the office. I had hardly any money. I had to go down to Beaumanoir. Immediately upon my arrival, Helen threw off her mask. I arrived late, and noticed that all the footmen and menservants had been dismissed. There were only women in the house, plus new women-servants. All of the new maids were big and handsome and strong. I have to admit that deep within my bosom, I felt a renewed vitality being back at Beaumanoir.
"You have just time to dress for dinner," said Phoebe, "if you will hurry."
"I shall be late," I replied. "How is it that there are no valets?"
"You must ask Miss. Helen."
I had my bath, and coming back into my bedroom, I found Phoebe still there.
"What are you doing here? You can go," I said and I saw to my confusion that she was holding up a dainty corset of white satin.
"I must lace you into this first, Master Evelyn," she said impudently.
"How dare you? What impertinence!" I began to leave the room and I saw her move to the bell. "What are you going to do?" I cried.
"Ring the bell for some of the other servants if you are going to be silly. I have definite orders from Miss. Helen to lace you into a corset and smarten you up."
I remembered with a sinking heart Mr. Willowes' advice. I couldn't have a struggle with a lot of women-servants. It was a question I must settle privately with Helen. A minute's conversation would settle the matter and put a stop to the repetition of any such nonsense. And so I allowed Phoebe to lace me up in a women's corset. What a strange, luxurious feeling it was! It was an enervating, captivating sensation against which I felt the strong need to struggle. I had a sense now of truly being in a woman's power. The delicate corset, all lace and satin outside, but relentless as steel in its whalebone grip, seemed to me the epitome of womanhood. I loved the feeling!
I had carelessly allowed my hair to grow long. Phoebe insisted on curling it. I noticed that the dress trousers that had been laid out had a line of little effeminate black satin buttons running for a few inches from the hem upward on the outside of each leg. They were short and exposed my delicate ankles, which were clad in very fine black silk stockings. My stockings were attached to my corset instead of ordinary socks and my shoes were patent leather girls' pumps with neat flat bows and straight American heels, which were higher, of course, than those that men normally wear. I was mysteriously excited by this strange costume. Helen was already at the table when I went down, seated with five or six of her friends. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers and old General Carstairs, a regular degenerate, were there among other guests. I blushed, suddenly ashamed in my costume.