'Clara Birch' - Chapter Seven (Part Two)

CLARA BIRCH by Anonymous - Chapter Seven (Part Two)


"Oh I cannot watch THIS!" gasped Sarah, who sprang up.

"You cannot? Really?" came the cold reply. "Very well, Sarah. It cannot be said that I have not done my very best to bring you to the true way of womanhood. You have, then, a week to mend your ways or I shall have no recourse but to put you under as big and as stiff a penis as I know. Go to your room!"

Hot-cheeked, my sister fled - I tactfully allowing her to before descending the stairs and entering the drawing room. Robert and Charlie were nowhere to be seen. Clarissa's guardian had been loosed from the chair but not from his bonds. His wrists now were secured behind his back and the movements of his legs were impeded by a hobble, which is to say a short length of rope tied to both ankles that permitted him to take only a short step at a time. He was now also gagged.

"He is to go up?" asked Bertha who appeared to know everything and who must have been in league with my stepmother for quite a while. I nodded and stood to one side as she snapped around his neck the selfsame hound-collar that Robert had worn and led him stumbling forward. His eyes appeared glazed, as well they might, though his erection threatened to burst through his trousers. I followed them up discreetly, his passage being necessarily slow.

The bedroom door to my stepmother's private abode was closed. Bertha knocked in true servant style and waited. An interval obtained before the command "Enter!" was given. "Close the door!" she commanded as we went in, and there upon the bed I saw Clarissa kneeling, naked to her stockings and with her bottom jutting moon like over the bed.

Her guardian's eyes bulged and his complexion took on a crimson hue. It was as well, perhaps, that the gag impeded his speech, though hollow sounds were to be heard coming from beneath it. Receiving a sharp smack on his brawny buttocks, he was pushed forward by Bertha until he stood in waiting immediately behind his pretended ward's luscious derriere which gleamed its pallor most invitingly, the sprouts of cunt-curls showing temptingly dark beneath.

Holding her head up and with breasts proudly heaving, my stepmother addressed him.

"A new word is about to enter your vocabulary, sir, for I doubt that you already know it. Clarissa is to be serviced or - as a farmhand might put it - she is to be covered. Your bonds are intended to assure that you do not otherwise defile her sweet form with your mauling hands. Spread your knees wider, Clarissa, for a lady need have no hesitation in doing so before a serf. Take his trousers down, Bertha, and let us see his equipment and whether I deem him sufficiently well hung for the task. Ah yes....a reasonable exhibit. His balls weight well, do they not?"

"Fair as big as my husband's, m'am," said Bertha, who for a moment brought them from under his upstanding tool and onto her palm and then let them dangle again. The man's head shook wildly, but no mute gestures could avail him now. The prize he had so desired was well displayed before him, but in circumstances that I doubt he could have dreamed of. He snorted as my stepmother took hold of his big leathery prick and rubbed it suavely with her fingers. The knob glistened in its huge swelling and the veins on the stem stood out fit to burst.

"The principal pleasure is to be Clarissa's," my stepmother informed him briskly. "You will not therefore come before you have afforded her at least fifty full strokes of your cock. I shall guard your motions well. Fail to pleasure her and you will receive this a dozen fold!"

Thus saying she produced a cane which looked most fearsome in its aspect, causing his head to waggle as though it might fall off. I gathered that he was denying any intended weakness on his part.

"Clarissa henceforth will be your true Mistress, which is to say that she will ordain your movements, your monetary disbursements, and such pleasurings - or not - that she feels in a mood to dispose. Should you at any time choose to disobey her, you will know my wrath, sir!"

With that, my stepmother placed her hand upon Clarissa's head and gently urged it down, the better to see her bottom mounding up. "This is agreed between us, is it not, my darling?" she breathed, whereat Clarissa nodded as blindly as might be. Her hair having been loosed of all its pins, virtually naught of her profile was in view on either side. In the superb thrusting out of her bottom and the displaying of her fig-like quim, which both combined with her sleekly stockinged legs and smooth, dipped back, she appeared as a totally anonymous symbol of supreme femininity. How dearly would I have liked to lick up between those ivory-smooth cheeks and then sought the moist bouquet beneath!

"Put him to her then, Bertha, and may he have marked well what I have said," came my stepmother's words, while the cane moved menacingly in her hand.

Bertha cackled and, even from beneath the gag he wore I could hear a coarse croaking sound as the plumb-like knob of his penis was brought close to the pouting lips of Clarissa's cunt. For an eternity, it seemed to hover there, my stepmother placing the palm of her hand gently between the young woman's shoulder blades, then - to an upward jerking of her guardian's chin - the swollen crest was eased between the rolled lovelips, causing Clarissa to jerk a little and utter a moan. Mouth open - as if I wished to absorb the succulent male fruit myself - I watched it urge within, the pulsing stem being severely controlled in its forward motion by Bertha's ringing fingers.

"ZZZOOOOO-OHHHHHHH!" came from Clarissa, but the sound was quickly bitten back, for which I admired her.

In such circumstances of control, there are few more enervating sights than to see a long, thick, erect penis entering a female's honeypot. The lips of Clarissa's cunny urged apart, like two small waves that encounter the prow of a boat. Her fingers clenched and her nose buried itself in the counterpane.

"Half in and hold!" my stepmother said and with that Bertha, with her free hand, pinched his big buttocks and so made him give such a start that Clarissa received a full four inches of his cock, her cunny becoming even more distended while her hips waggled rebelliously, but at a soothing of my stepmother's hand were bravely still again. Her guardian's legs trembled mightily, his thighs resembling small tree-trunks and his calves quivering.

"She's going to be lovely at it, m'am. I knowed it the moment I saw her. See how still she is, how nicely she comports herself."

This from Bertha, of course. From my stepmother a mere nod, as though it was what she had expected of her pupil all the time.

"Let him proceed," she murmured. "Take the cane, Bertha, and station yourself behind him. I shall begin the count...ONE!"

"FEEEE-OOOOOOH!" came Clarissa's muffled hiss as now the big banana of flesh sheathed itself slowly in her quim and his balls hung down beneath her curls.

"TWO, sir!"

Out it withdrew, and with full majesty until the knob hovered almost beyond the fig-like entrance and then drove home again.

The knuckles on Clarissa's hands distinctly whitened, but my stepmother was scarcely watching her as such, having full faith in her, as it seemed, she monitored such tiny signs of Clarissa's hip movements which might seem to have indicated that she wished to expel the invader. My cunny itself moistened all the more and surreptitiously I stood with my legs parted.

"The male is but a penis-bearer and a provider of our means of livelihood and our luxuries, Clara," my stepmother told me later. "True, he may be taken up in conversation sometime, and if proving witty or in any way informative, may be listened to, though not with respect. For a woman listens to a man's mind as much as his words and, given that she is ripe of figure, will divine the speech that goes on silently in his head, that being concerned solely with the taking down of our drawers and the penetration of our holes!"

That which was happening before me now I wished never to end. As he came upon his twentieth stroke, his movements seemed bolder - so much so that Bertha seized the short hairs at the back of his head and hissed a warning in his ear. As for Clarissa, her cunny had distinctly moistened, for I saw her exudation glistening on his shaft as it emerged and the distended lips seemed positively to cling around its girth,

"Twenty one - twenty two - a little faster now for a moment - let her feel the slapping of your balls, sir. That she will empty them for you I have no doubt," my stepmother said. Her lovely face showed no emotion whatever save that there was a glistening in her eyes that came, as I surmised, from pride in her accomplishments.

He was breathing more heavily now, as the snorts from his nostrils betokened. I had little doubt that he wished to spill already and so did my stepmother for she halted him with his bulbous knob just inside Clarissa's nest and thrust his chin up.

"You will receive now , sir, one cut of the cane as a warning of your fate should you sperm her prematurely."

Oh my goodness, what a yell he would have uttered if he could as Bertha whipped the cane full in across his buttocks. His head jerked further up so that his chin pointed to the ceiling, and his eyes came out on stalks while trying to evade the whippy cane his prick thrust fully up Clarissa's quim and held there tight.

"Thirty-one," my stepmother intoned mercilessly even while his eyes creased up in a grimace and a red streak pulsed across his bottom.

True, she was putting him to his task severely, for the male serf's cock is usually nursed over a period of time until he learns to have it rubbed more and more beguilingly, but without coming save on command. In the first weeks of disciplining, the male is not permitted to come at all and so learns that the hand that soothes him is also the one that masters him and which he must obey, whether it is nursed in the palm, urged up the female bottom or sheathed in a clinging cunny.

I will not, though, detail the sweet agonies of Clarissa's guardian at any greater length. No man could have wished to reach the post more urgently than he.

"FIFTY and NOW!" came from my stepmother whereat, the tendons on his neck straining violently, he brought Clarissa's bottom to smack against his belly and injected his tribute in long throbbing spurts of such abundance that both of them quivered and rubbed together for ages before his dripping prick was finally withdrawn, whereat Bertha gave him no time for settlement but simply led him out.

His task was done. I saw the meaning of it then better than any words that might then have been uttered to me. The whole role of the male had changed before my eyes. Such food for thought is rarely given to a girl of my then young age.

Immediately his steaming weapon was withdrawn, Clarissa sank down and wriggled on her belly where she lay supine. At that, my stepmother raised her fingers to her lips and motioned to me to withdraw. I did so, but lingered at the door, hearing murmurings and kisses.

"Yes, if you want," I heard Clarissa say and then came a rustling of clothes and I guessed that my stepmother was undressing. It was a full three-quarters of an hour before they reappeared, both looking cool and faultless in appearance as my stepmother ever intends after such an event. As to my brother and Charlie, Bertha had tied them up back to back in the potting shed, nursed their cocks, and then left them so. They were more severely in training now.

Clarissa's guardian sat transfixed and knowing not where to look, being completely attired and unbound, so free to move.

"You may escort Clarissa back now, but you will return within two days so that I may hear what she has to say. Kneel, cur, and kiss the toes of her shoes as a token of your obedience!"

There was a moment's silence, as well may be imagined, and then he stepped forward to his 'ward' who now looked utterly demure.

"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 quick 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 to the cock in a manner which will teach her the best of lessons," I was told, but could glean no more from her.

The Master

"Sir, I came because I needed...I mean...I missed..I...I..."



"I know what you needed, Caroline. I haven't spanked you for a week and that's way too long."

"Yes, Sir."

"Get that dress up and let's have a look at you.....mmmmm......skin far too creamy...definitely needs a good reddening, doesn't it?"

"Yes Sir"

"Right let's have that dress off first of all!"



"We'll have these fancy knickers off. I want a good look at the state of your arse."

(Blushes) "Of course, Sir!"



"You really have got a beautiful little arse, Caroline. Stop looking so embarrassed."

"I can't help it, Sir, when you look at me that way."

(Laughs) "Then we better get down to business , hadn't we....Kneel up on the bed and hold on to the radiator."



"Aaaaah Sir, it hurts!"

"Of course it does....and you just love it. By God, you do have a succulent little arse. I love the way it responds to the slap of my hand."

"Oh Sir, you give me just what I need."

"I always know what you need, Caroline."



"Ooooohhhhhh Aaaaaaaaaah!"

"That's it, I love to know I'm getting through to you. This little arse deserves to be spanked every day!"

"Yes Sir."




"Oooooo..I'm really warm now Sir....my bottom is throbbing!"

"We're nearly there, Caroline. I've brought you almost to your peak!"

"Oh yes, Sir...I've never felt so.....aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"




"Now I'll kiss it better....and we'll use the bed for another purpose altogether!"

"Oh YESSSSSSSSSSSS Sir!"


(Pictures from Janus)

'Clara Birch' - Chapter Seven (Part One)

This is a long chapter so rather than keep you waiting too long while I type it in, I've split it in two


CLARA BIRCH by Anonymous - Chapter Seven



As she moved towards them, my sister and Clarissa twittered and swayed nervously on their feet, though they could not have helped but feel some little excitement.

"Put them over!" she commanded, walking round to the back of Clarissa so that I was then immediately behind my sister.

"Don't you dare!" cried Sarah but all in vain. Struggling to no purpose at all they were moved but a few steps to an accommodating broad settee and pushed into a kneeling position upon it, their bottoms jutting over the edge and each with her shoulders held by Bertha and I.

"Up, you young curs!" then came from my stepmother to the boys. At that Sarah screeched and tried in vain to wriggle free, but no time was wasted in the due performance of 'dipping'. Led stumbling to the girls, Robert was placed behind Sarah, and Charlie put to Clarissa, which is to say their cocks were taken - my stepmother standing between them and using both hands - and nudged against the maidens' bottom-holes.

"HAH! HOOOOOOOO! NOOO!" cried Sarah, but by placing one knee in the small of her back (whereby I imitated Bertha) she was held almost motionless and her lovely bottom forced right up.

"Your knobs within and then an inch beyond - no more!"

So ordained my stepmother, and purplish indeed was my brother's face as he found his swollen plum invading his sister's nether aperture. Charlie, being quieter and more set in the face, had clearly done this before.

How dearly I wished I could better see! In my position, facing the two young men, I had only the vision of their cocks bent down a little into a straight position and disappearing up between the fulsome cheeks. Their penetration, though, was but a symbol. Gritting his teeth, Robert urged his inch within - so Sarah held more than two in all and yelped and squealed galore.

"Hold!" My stepmother commanded the young stallions. That they were put to exquisite torture I had no doubt. As to the feelings of Sarah I could not them imagine them for she was at last receiving her brother's prick in her bottom.

"Ho, ho, ho - MAMA!" sobbed she.

"Darling," I breathed to her, though whether she heard or cared about my tender endearment I did not know. I wanted her to truly enjoy and knew perhaps some day she would. Her frettings and her pullings seemed to me unnecessary, for I wanted it myself. His cock was in - just in - and his balls were cupped. So patiently did my stepmother hold them both, and neither dared to move.

"When the girls are quiet," she breathed, "you will take them out."

In truth Clarissa had barely uttered a sound. She was to become a darling of my heart for that, proving herself eventually to be ever so and maintaining ever her pride thereby even when her Papa -for so I discovered her 'guardian' to be - was put to her , his cock full up her orb.

"Be quiet, Sarah, now - did you not hear?" I asked.

"Silence, Clara!" I was admonished, and properly so. Such events are ceremonies proper and should not be interrupted. Despite our stepmother's stare, I stroked Sarah's hair. Her sobs were low and pitiful, yet came not from the heart but broken pride. Robert gave a little jerk and a twitch and was scolded, though gently. I sensed that Sarah was gripping him tightly. It was an excellent preparation for what she was to receive when her pleasure finally mounted - not then but later on when she would allow herself to be mounted. The present, febrile jerkings of her bottom were insufficient to dislodge her brother's cock and this she finally learned and buried her face with a great sobbing sigh till all was over.

"Yes, my beauty," our stepmother breathed at her then, and as if in approbation.

Not fully understanding the purpose of what she had called 'dipping' I waited then for what seemed to be the utterly desirable moment when both pricks would be fully sheathed in the girls' bottoms - but it was not to be. They were being given a 'taster', while as for the males this was a discipline. A hint of promise lay therein, yes, but in all it was to keep them thoroughly obedient to the Mistress of their fate.

Even so, my stepmother allowed them to remain so embedded for another long minute, their thighs quivering much and their eyes quite agonised.

"Out now, slowly, and down with you again!" she then commanded, and with the most haggard of expressions and thickly-waggling weapons they obeyed, the process of uncorking bringing a soft "OOOOOHHH!" from Sarah and Clarissa. "Up now, girls!" my stepmother said then almost merrily and much as their legs too, quavered, they were doubtless glad to, though would not have turned about to display anew their furred nests to the males had they not been swiftly smacked and told to turn around.

The face of Clarissa's supposed guardian was of course a picture to see in all of this, but no one really paid him heed, and as Robert and Charlie sank upon their backs upon the floor again, so Bertha magically produced two pairs of drawers which, being thrust into the hands of the two girls, they all too gladly put on.

"You have seen the males queened and perhaps by now know the purpose of it, or if you do not your minds will come to it soon enough," they were told. "You may now take greater pride in your femininity than you have done in these past minutes. You, Clarissa, go down on Charlie even as Bertha did. Sarah - you will teach your brother a similar lesson!"

Both girls stood frozen for a moment, though left free to move. Perhaps some semblance of understanding came to them then for it was my sister who moved first. The psychology of it then made itself better understood to me. The male had taken advantage of the female, and though he had been bidden to mattered not. Now the female could reassert herself. So my thoughts spun as I hoped Sarah's would too. Reaching within a foot of our brother who lay biting his lip and trying to outstare the ceiling, she appeared to hesitate but was spurred on by the quite gentle voice of our stepmother saying, "Yes, Sarah, NOW, Sarah."

Her shapely form wobbled a little as, with a constrained look on her lovely face, she placed one foot over Robert's body and then, as if casting a beseeching look all around, sank slowly down. Urging herself awkwardly on her knees, she gritted her teeth slightly and threw her head back as one might in appealing to unseen angels of deliverance. She could not help but still be thinking of his prick in her bottom. The sensation would still be there, both shaming and exciting her. Would she now take the revenge that was offered her?

At that moment Clarissa,being firmly taken in hand by Bertha, was being carefully positioned. Her knickered bottom hung like a full moon over Charlie's face , but neither had yet touched.

My stepmother and Bertha saw to it that they did. "When a girl learns to queen the male and does it thoroughly and well, and with a sense of satisfaction, she is more than halfway there," my stepmother told me afterwards, saying it was a moment of crowning glory to be achieved, whether with a stranger or with one's kin. Indeed she demonstrated it upon me so that I knew for myself the sense of utter submission in being so imperiously smothered by that fleshy globe.

"Sometimes," she told me, "they first take the scent of you that way and will follow ever after at your skirts with their tongues lolling like eager hounds."

"Are they allowed to put their tongues up?" I asked.

"Only when commanded to, Clara. To do so otherwise is to call down punishment upon themselves. The wearing of drawers is a sign of contempt and of protection. The thicker the garment is, the greater the punishment, particularly if the female keeps her bottom as cool as possible before going down on the male. Should she wish to excite him and frustrate him the more, she will wear the thinnest possible drawers and make sure that she has been well seated on a chair beforehand and warmed her orb so that the effluvia of her cunny and bottom-hole comes the more pungently to his nostrils. There are variations, of course, but you will learn those in due course and may even invent a few yourself."

I became eager to, yet at this moment now I was watching my sister's bottom as, by sudden pressure of our stepmother's hands on her shoulders, it was plumped firmly down on Robert's face - she enjoining him fiercely to keep his mouth closed and his tongue in.

"PMFFFFFF!" I heard from him the while that the deep colour spread up into Sarah's face and she wriggled inanely as though to get up, until my stepmother stilled her and bent and whispered something in her ear, at which Sarah bit her lip and instantly obeyed. Clarissa, being then well down on Charlie, sat inert, her expression proud as ever or perhaps now even a mite more so than heretofore. Then did my stepmother place one leg astride Robert and sit down firmly on his stomach so that she faced Sarah, whose lips quivered.

"There, my darling, is that not better?" she was asked quietly. Tears brimmed in Sarah's eyes, her mouth opened as though she might cry. Our stepmother's arms enfolded her shoulders tenderly and Sarah's head sank upon her offered shoulder. "Is it not better?" was whispered to her then, "to have the male under you and not rampant at you, Sarah? Yes, my dearest, urge your bottom down upon him well. Has he not been wicked?"

"Ho, yes!" sobbed Sarah and clung to her, her fingers hooked as though frantically into our stepmother's arms.

Poor Robert - he was puffing madly, but I could not doubt that Sarah felt a certain victory in it. Her nostrils flared as his own breathed fire into her bottom, and yet she had him as certainly as a cat has a bird and must have sensed it, while her erstwhile enemy had now become her friend who stroked her hair and murmured sweet endearments to her.

Of course the act of queening produces a complementary warmth between the parties and so cannot fail to stir the female somewhat, though, as I have since learned, she does well to hide her emotions and to concentrate upon the proper disciplining of the male. Thus it was that our stepmother appeared to give not a jot for Robert's role in this and did not even glance down at him when finally raising Sarah to her feet.

"Come, dear," she murmured, "we will bathe you now, Clarissa too. Bertha will see to the males."

My sister was indeed subdued as was Clarissa who bore a look of concealed wonderment on her face. Upstairs then and to the bathroom we adjourned where both were refreshed. Then did we repair to my stepmother's bedroom where wine was dispensed and at first drunk in an almost cathedral-like silence. Sarah knew not what to say any longer, or how to protest - if indeed she still wished to - while Clarissa, being a guest, was bound to remain quiet.

"You did well, Clara, to obey me," was said and thus I was made to appear, if not guiltless, then at least in part innocent, for the subtle menace in my stepmother's voice was patent for all to hear. "Do you then enjoy obeying me?" she asked craftily.

I played my part well, at first hesitating, then darting a glance at Sarah which seemed to beg her forgiveness. I sought for reply that would give credence to my appearance not as an accomplice but as a submissive.

"I don't mind if Sarah doesn't," I replied, thus endeavouring to convey that my sister had not struggled screamed or protested as much as she might have done.

"Oh, but I do," Sarah blurted, but realising that she was but one against three immediately took on an awkward expression, compressed her lips and toyed with the bed-cover as though her thoughts were really elsewhere.

"You are bound to. All of you are bound to," my stepmother replied, "yet every step I take and every form of guidance I give you is for your own good. You have seen the lusting of the male and how he never frets to put his cock to a bottom or a cunny. Think you that we are to encourage such behaviour? Well, Sarah?" she asked sharply.

My sister showed retreat. "I don't know what you might make us do now," she mumbled.

"I shall MAKE you pleasure yourselves and in doing so will guide you along such paths as will teach you how to discipline pleasure itself, how indeed to weave a net into which you will not yourselves fall victims, but will learn how to use it as a snare and a weapon. Let us take a practical case. You, Clarissa, would have fallen victim to your guardian in due course. I doubt it not and believe you do not also. You would have tired of struggling to keep his hands from your skirts and the warm bulge of your bottom. In due course apathy would have overcome you. A fumbling descent of your drawers would have occurred. Some errant fingering of his might have aroused you against your will. Torn between excitement and the fear of intrusion by another, you might have yielded haphazardly and taken the steaming cock in your quim silently and quickly until his lust was expelled and you were creamed."

"Oh!" exclaimed Clarissa and cupped her face in her hands.

My stepmother took her wrists and drew them away slowly. "Swear to me that it could not possibly have happened and I will absolve you, Clarissa. Look into my eyes as you speak!" she declared solemnly.

Clarissa's lips twisted. "I..I don't..I don't know," she uttered lamely, whereat a victorious look came over her questioner's face.

"Once he has rodded you, my sweet - as he surely will - you will become prey to his lusts, will lie in waiting for his coming, too timorous to object and having no one to run to. In part you will desire what you will receive and so will be the fluttering butterfly in his net. Your cunny, oiled by his sperm, will throb so appealingly as to make you forget your scruples."

"Oh, scruples, indeed! How can you speak of them after what you have subjected us to?" burst forth my sister whom I expected to be immediately smacked at the least for that, but our stepmother spoke to her most softly.

"A stave of good hard wood hardens in flame, my love, and so shall you. Remember this as a precept all your life. Do not give way to emotion for it is the worst of teachers, producing only abject pupils whose minds run hither and thither and have no resting place. Clarissa knows the truth of what I speak - do you not, Clarissa? Say quickly, girl, what lies immediately in your mind."

"Yes," Clarissa said simply and would again have covered her face but was prevented.

"Your truthfulness, my dear, is like a shining light amid so much duplicity in the world," she was told, no doubt to her great surprise. "I propose then," my stepmother went on, " to hasten events, though entirely to your advantage. You have freely confessed that the lips of your cunny and - I have no doubt - your succulent bottom-hole as well - will open in time to your guardian's cock. So be it, but it shall not be in circumstances of shame and wonder but of womanly pride and - yea - victory!"

"You....you do not mean NOW?" gasped Clarissa.

"What better time, my dear, now that I have made him subject to my whims? Let him be subject to yours also. He will be duly punished afterwards, while you yourself will be feted."

"Madam, I cannot!" gasped Clarissa, this interruption being however ignored.

"Have Bertha bring him up, " my stepmother said to me, accentuating the command bring.

'A Sweet Revenge'

Here is one of my stories you may have read elsewhere, if not enjoy it afresh.

A SWEET REVENGE

by Alex Birch


The summer of 1941 was warm and sunny, kids of my age spending most of their
free time paddling in rivers and brooks, the war temporarily forgotten until
night time when shelters became a second home and the night sky was filled with
the sound of German aircraft, their drone interspersed with that dire and
ominous whistle heralding another ear splitting explosion which seemed to rock
the very foundations of the air raid shelter. Although I was just fourteen, I
was very frail for my age and must have looked three years younger. I was a
nervous, highly strung kid too, who unashamedly clung to my mother's neck crying
bitterly with terror as the bombs came whistling down.

I think I was a disappointment to my father who wanted a real man for a son, a
boy who was strong, fit and who won honours at football and athletics. Instead
he got an only child with asthma, a nervous stammer and an obsession with
science and chemistry which took up all my free time when the other kids were
out playing sport. My father seemed to have little time for me, tied up as he
was with war work, and he seemed to blame my mother for the way I'd grown up,
'tied to a woman's apron strings ' as he put it.

The bombing around London got worse and lots of pressure had been put on city
families by the authorities to evacuate their children, thus it was no surprise
when my father and mother summoned me into the lounge one evening and informed
me that they had decided to send me away to the home of my uncle George and my
mother's sister,aunt Ruth, who owned a farm near Rushlake Green in Sussex. I
was to stay for the duration of the war and, although mother swore they would
visit often, I threw my arms around her and pleaded not to be sent away, father
walking out of the room in disgust at my antics. That night mother packed my
clothes and belongings, my plea to be allowed my chemistry set having been
granted as long as I 'behaved responsibly'.

The next day, before going to his office, father shook my hand gravely and told
me the experience might 'make a man of me' and wished me well then, turning on
his heel, left the house with no other gesture of affection while mother took me
out to the taxi and on to the railway station. Our parting at Waterloo was
painful as I hugged my mother tightly begging her to reconsider, but with tears
in her eyes she bravely kissed me goodbye and put me on the train for Battle.
At Battle station, after a long journey by local train, I brightened up for I
recognised the smiling faces of my aunt and uncle standing beside their old
Austin car, my aunt rushing forward, arms outstretched, as I stepped down from
the train. On the journey to their home, my aunt gushed with questions about my
health, then about mother and father, amusing me by asking if father was still
such a 'sourpuss'. I was beginning to relax and feel wanted until my aunt said
'You'll be pleased to know Julie's home from college. It's been five years
since you met. She's got a friend staying, too, and they're both looking
forward to seeing you!'

Somehow I managed to avoid bursting into tears on the spot, just nodding and
forcing a smile before peering out of the car window to mask my true feelings.
The last time I had stayed there I was only nine and my cousin Julie nearly
thirteen but she had proved the most frightening ogre in my young life, the
prime reason why I'd dreaded coming back. Even then she had been a pretty girl
but a vicious bully, insisting I did every little chore for her on pain of
violence if I did not. I had been punched and kicked, once having my nose split
open but Julie had quickly told her parents I'd fallen over a log. I'd been too
frightened to tell the truth and now I was to face her in the same house again.
I could only hope she'd changed.

When we arrived at the farm, my heart stopped and I felt cold all over, for
there was Julie and her friend waiting to greet us. She had grown up into a
stunningly beautiful girl, her friend very close in the good looks stakes too,
and I began to hope for the best. My hopes soon evaporated for aunt Ruth said
'Give your little cousin a kiss, Julie' and she stepped forward, lips pursed as
I responded reluctantly, the full weight of a woman's mouth on mine for the
first time. She hugged me to her and held her mouth over mine until my air
passages became devoid of oxygen and I began to panic, trying to gasp for breath
as my face began to redden.

'Julie ...' I heard my aunt cry '...not so enthusiastic, he can't breathe!' and
Julie let me go suddenly as I reeled away coughing and spluttering, an asthmatic
wheeze filling my lungs. 'I'm sorry, Robert ...' she said softly '... I was
just so pleased to see you' but I stared into her laughing eyes as that look of
malice bored into my face and I knew my time here would be a nightmare. Julie
stepped back to join her friend and I saw a little confidence exchanged between
them, the two girls staring at me and grinning with delight.

There were no further incidents that evening for we had tea and sandwiches,
though I had little stomach for either as I glanced frequently and fearfully in
the direction of Julie and her friend Clare, but neither seemed at all aware of
my presence. The two girls went out to a local dance after tea with orders to
be home by 11 pm so I was left with my uncle and aunt for the evening, to my
great relief. We played chess and I beat uncle George,to his surprise and my
delight, for chess, a game of intellect and beauty, was one of my rare talents.
Around ten o' clock, aunt Ruth suggested I might retire to bed after such a hard
day and I gratefully accepted the suggestion.

The bed was comfortable and soft and it was not long before I was in the land of
nod dreaming of my mother waving me goodbye at Waterloo. How long I had slept I
don't know, but I became vaguely aware of someone standing over my bed and,
struggling from sleep, I sensed the top sheet being pulled back before the
crotch of my pyjamas was suddenly doused in warm water. I let out a loud shriek
and shot up in bed as a chuckling figure in a nightdress ran out of my bedroom
and closed the door. I threw off the bedclothes and got out, groping for the
bedroom light and switching it on. To my horror the front of my pyjamas and
part of the sheet were soaked in water and I burst into tears of despair just as
the door opened and my horrified aunt surveyed the scene.

'Oh you poor child ...' she exclaimed '...your mother never mentioned this
problem. It must be the new surroundings or something but we may have to call a
doctor if you do this again!' I was dumbstruck for not only did my aunt think
I'd wet the bed but she insisted that I take off the soaked pyjamas immediately.
My embarrassment and despair were total as I stood in front of her, half naked,
as she found me another pair and changed the sheets. The remainder of the night
was spent in fear and misery for I could not lock the door, thus I slept
fitfully jerking upright at every click or bump wondering if my tormentors had
returned.

Next morning, aunt Ruth came in to wake me and found a white faced and exhausted
little boy who looked washed out and sleepless. She fussed over me for a few
moments before telling me to come down for breakfast and eat with the girls. No
prospect had ever seemed so uninvitiing but I reluctantly dragged myself
downstairs and into the breakfast room where I found Julie and Clare already
munching toast, both girls breaking into giggles as I walked in. The tears of
mortification were close but I bravely sat down at the table as aunt Ruth went
out to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast.

As soon as I was alone with the two girls, Julie smirked at me and sneered 'Mom
says you wet the bed last night, Robert! I thought only babies did that!' and
dissolved into laughter as my face went red. 'You know I didn't, Julie ...' I
stuttered '...wh..why did you do that to me. What have I ever done to you?'
A look of pure evil crossed her face at that point and her eyes narrowed as she
glared across the table like an angry cat. 'Because you're a simpering little
weed ...' she hissed '...and I can't stand the sight of you. You're only here
because you're a mommy's boy who doesn't like big bangs. I don't know why you
got dumped on us but I'm warning you,. stay out of our way and one word to mom
or dad about last night and I'll really hurt you!' then she turned to her
friend, both girls chuckling as aunt Ruth returned with my breakfast but I
couldn't eat, my stomach turning over and over with terror, yet I couldn't say a
word.

Things got better over the next few days, primarily because Julie and Clare
chose to ignore me and went out on their own despite aunt Ruth's entreaties to
the girls to make me feel welcome. I didn't mind at all, for I felt safe in the
company of aunt Ruth when the girls were out and my appetite returned, to my
aunt's obvious relief. I heard her mention 'problems of settling in' to uncle
George and I was tempted to tell them the truth but, of course, my courage
failed me. I was counting the days until Julie and Clare went back to college
in a further two weeks and then perhaps my temporary home would be a home and
not a frightening hostile jungle.

All went well until three days later when aunt Ruth had to go into hospital for
a day and was unable to take me with her. Uncle George had to supervise the
crop spraying in the fields after chauffeuring his wife and could not be
responsible for me either so my aunt demanded that Julie and Clare look after me
for the day, berating Julie furiously when she sulkily expressed her reluctance.
Julie's dismay was nothing compared to my own for, in a state of panic which
bewildered my aunt, I begged to be allowed to stay in the fields with my uncle
but my well meaning aunt would not hear of it, insisting that the two girls take
me with them on a planned picnic.

As uncle George revved the car, aunt Ruth waved at me from the passenger seat
and I bravely waved back. 'Look after your cousin, now' she shouted as Julie
smiled and put her arm around me. It was like the grip of a python as waves of
fear consumed my frail body.
Left alone with the two girls, Julie grabbed my arm. 'We seem to be stuck with
you...' she snarled '...but one foot out of line and you'll regret it,
understand?' and I nodded miserably as I picked up the haversack provided by my
aunt and followed them across the fields in trepidation. Once into the depth of
the woodlands at the back of the house, the two girls linked arms and strode on,
leaving me to stumble on behind in dejection.

'Come on, creep, keep up!' I heard and tried to accelerate to keep up, my
breathing now becoming painful. By the time we reached the picnic site I was
out of breath and suffering, reaching into my pocket occasionally for my
inhaler, much to the scorn and amusement of Julie and Clare. They refused to
share any food with me, leaving me to eat the few sandwiches in my small pack,
though the food was intended for all of us. My misery and resentment grew as I
sat on my own, deliberately ignored by the two girls as they chattered away.
The crunch came when Julie abruptly got up and decided it was time to return
then ordered me to clear up the picnic things on my own. Forgetting my fear,
resentment driving me on, I shouted 'No, I won't. I'm not your slave. Clear it
up yourself!' and then looked in terror at Julie's hate filled face, cursing
myself for my foolhardiness.

'NO ...!' she shouted as she advanced on me menacingly '...did I hear NO! You
don't refuse me, weed, as you're about to find out. You're a very naughty
little weed and I'm going to teach you a lesson!' I couldn't move as she came
towards me, my legs as weak as water, unable to run as Julie grabbed hold of my
arms.

'What are you going to do, Jules?' I heard Clare's voice, breathless with
excitement and Julie's answer 'I'm going to teach the weed a lesson he won't
forget, come and hold his arms!' I tried frantically to resist but I was too
frail to succeed, the grinning Clare holding my arms tightly as I heard Julie
walk a few feet away and snap something off a nearby tree. I looked up and saw
her holding a long sapling in her hand which she tapped menacingly against her
palm, yet I was still bemused about her intentions as they both dragged me over
to a nearby tree stump and forced me head first over it until I was lying face
down across it. The horror of what they intended began to dawn as I tried to
struggle free, the tears beginning again for they were too strong for me and I
lay helpless. Suddenly I gave a terrified shriek as first I heard Clare giggle
then I felt a sharp wrench at my waist and cold air on my rear as Julie pulled
down my shorts and underpants. I lay crying and shouting, my bare bottom
exposed to the two laughing girls and then 'whaaack' the first stroke of the
sapling whipped across my tender flesh as I howled in agony.

'That's a nice stripe across his bum!' Clare giggled as Julie proceeded to whip
me with the sapling until I was screaming in pain. I don't know how many she
gave me, probably a dozen before the whipping ceased and I fell off the log
howling in agony. Clare sounded nervous . 'Christ, Jules, his bottom is like a
skinned tomato ...' she gasped '.... how are we going to explain that away?' but
Julie just laughed. 'We don't have to...' she muttered, gripping my hair
tightly '...because weed won't say anything or weed will get a lot worse!' and I
nodded and gulped, tears of pain and shame rolling down my face. The return
journey was agony for me and the tears were rolling down my face as I tried to
rub my bottom and walk at the same time but it was sheer torment. When we got
home there was nobody else about, so the two girls dragged me upstairs and into
the bathroom where Claire ran a bath of cold water.

'Get undressed!' Julie ordered and I obeyed with alacrity, my swollen, roasting
bottom completely eliminating any concern for my modesty. When I was naked,
Julie hauled me over the side and dumped me into the icy water as I yelled with
the sudden cold, my body temperature dropping immediately. 'Now sit there for
half an hour till that swelling goes down ...' Julie ordered '...and if you keep
yelling we'll stick your head under!' I did as I was bid under the scrutiny of
the two girls, shivering with cold yet glad of the relief to my burning
buttocks. When I was nearly frozen with cold, Julie and Clare hauled me out and
left the bathroom, ordering me to my bed for the rest of the afternoon. Crying
tears of rage and humiliation, I dried myself gingerly and took to my bed,
rolling over and over to try and ease the pain in my bottom.

I must have lain there for two hours until the urge to pee forced me to get up
and walk down the landing to the bathroom. As I reached the top of the stairs,
I heard the two girls in loud and earnest conversation downstairs. Worried in
case they were plotting further abuse, I stopped to listen.
'I know they're nice looking boys...' I heard Clare's high lilt '...but we can't
afford a trip to the seaside, we haven't got two pins to rub together.'
'WE haven't ...' I heard Julie's deeper reply '...but Mom's got over £100 hidden
under the clock in her bedroom. She went to the bank on Monday and she always
keeps it in the same place. We'll sort of borrow it.'
'We can't...' Clare replied '...your mom'll miss it. How do we get over that?'
I heard Julie giggle. 'Easy. She'll be back at seven but I'll nick the cash
before that and then plant a couple of tenners under weed's pillow and that's
the end of him. We'll say he hid the rest. We can go to Brighton and weed gets
sent home to his parents in disgrace!'

I reeled away in shock as I realised how evil this girl was, callous and
vindictive. Suddenly I turned on my heel and went quietly back to my room, a
new determination filling my being, a new resolve in my step. I took my
chemistry set out of my battered holdall, wedged my bedroom door shut and began
to mix some powder. When I'd finished, I tiptoed out of my room towards aunt
Ruth's bedroom desperately hoping the girls would not hear me.

I left my aunt's bedroom just in time for I heard Julie's voice on the stairs.
'Are you up yet, you little worm ...' she shouted '...for mom and dad will be
back soon and we don't want any funny questions do we!'
Throat dry, I began to descend the stairs, passing Julie on the way and she
grabbed my collar. 'Not a word about your sore little bum, understand?' and I
nodded fearfully as she let me go and continued on her way. I turned and
watched her back with a smile on my face.

Aunt Ruth and uncle George returned from the hospital a little later, everyone
making a fuss of my aunt as she reassured us all that she was perfectly fine.
The evening meal was conducted in relative peace, though my aunt did say I
looked flushed and uncomfortable but I burbled some obviously suitable response,
Julie watching me through narrowed eyes. Some time after tea my aunt went
upstairs to her room and reappeared some ten minutes later looking shocked and
upset.

'There was £100 under the clock in my bedroom ...' she said shakily '...and now
it's gone. We haven't been broken into so though it breaks my heart to say it,
the culprit is in this room. Now who is it?'
Immediately Julie stared at me accusingly. 'You little wretch ...' she shouted
'...you''re the only one who's been up there today. Come on, give it back!' as
I protested my innocence desperately. 'Mom, I suggest we search his room ...'
Julie demanded '...the money can't be far away. I knew he was trouble!'

'That'll do, Julie ...' her mother said quietly, then '...are you prepared to
accept that, Robert?' and I nodded meekly as, led by my aunt, the family trooped
upstairs and into my bedroom. Julie pretended to search but made sure it was
her mother who found the two notes under my pillow case as everyone stared
accusingly at me.

'What have you got to say for yourself, Robert?' my aunt demanded, tears in her
eyes and I looked bravely into her face.
'It wasn't me, aunt Ruth and I can prove it. I've never even touched the money.
Please aunt Ruth, give me a chance. Pick up those two notes and hold them in
your hand for a minute.' I pleaded and, despite Julie's indignant entreaties to
punish me, my aunt did as I asked, her face a picture of bewilderment. 'Now
look at your fingers ...' I asked and my aunt did so, her eyes widening as she
saw her fingers stained a light blue. I showed her my own unsullied hands then
I saw Julie quickly look at her own fingers, a gasp of anger and frustration
breaking from her lips as she tried to edge out of the door but her father,
spotting this, seized her hand and raised it, revealing the tell tale stain to
all.

'I heard them plotting to set me up, aunt Ruth ...' I said ' ...and I heard
Julie tell Clare where the money was so I used my chemistry set to make a slow
dyeing powder, then sprinkled it over the notes and waited. It's clear who's
planted that money!'
Julie tried to deny it but guilt was all over her face, the truth confirmed when
uncle George confronted Clare angrily and demanded the truth. Her resistance
collapsed into tears as she blamed Julie for everything.

'You little cow ...' Julie screamed '...miss goody goody. Whose idea was it to
soak the weed's pyjamas in hot water?' as Clare shouted back 'And whose idea was
it to smack his bottom with a stick?' then the two girls nearly came to blows as
a shocked uncle George and aunt Ruth shepherded them back down to the lounge,
aunt Ruth taking me into the kitchen to verify Clare's accusation and gasping
with horror when she saw my bruised bottom.

I had never seen uncle George look angry before but he was red faced and shaking
with rage, Clare and Julie cowering under his wrath as the whole sorry story of
my treatment was forced out of the now whimpering and frightened girls. When
they had finished their tale of infamy, my uncle addressed them both.
'I have never heard such an appalling saga ...' he thundered '...and I'm ashamed
that my own daughter has been exposed as both a thief and a bully!'.'

By now, the beautiful eighteen year old monster had been reduced to a weeping,
shivering funk as her father's words sank home and she cried out as he told her
she had a simple choice -to accept his punishment or to leave home and not
return. She pleaded not to have to make such a choice but finally begged not to
be thrown out and that she would accept her punishment if only I would leave the
room but my uncle refused this request. The sobbing girl then submitted to the
inevitable, my uncle addressing us all gravely.

'I am now going to perform a grim duty which is obviously overdue and one I
hoped never to have to consider. Clare, you will watch before I take you back
to your father and recommend that you receive similar punishment, and Robert,
you too will watch and I hope what you see will in some way make amends for what
has happened to you, though I am bitterly ashamed of it and beg you to forgive
us!'

At a nod from my uncle, aunt Ruth, still in shock and obviously very angry, left
the room and returned some minutes later holding a length of rattan in her hand.
When Julie saw it, her eyes widened and tears ran down her face as she pleaded
for mercy. I, on the other hand, began to tremble with excitement on realising
that Julie was about to get her bottom caned.

'You should have thought about mercy before your appalling behaviour...' my
uncle thundered '...and now you will be publicly humiliated in addition to being
very, very sore! Ruth ...' he demanded '...hand me that cane ...' then he
swished it through the air as Julie squealed in fright '...and you, take off
your skirt!'

I smiled at my tormentor as, her face crimson and her eyes pouring tears, Julie
unbuttoned her skirt and slipped it off, revealing her lovely bare legs and her
shapely bottom covered only by her white lace french knickers, her humiliation
immense as she prepared for a public thrashing. Worse was to come as my uncle
ordered the bitterly weeping Julie to face the back of the armchair, then took
his time studying his daughter's plump bottom cheeks, hardly protected at all by
her delicate lace knickers but, to my delight, he was not satisfied!

'Take your knickers down and bend over the chair as far as you can, your bottom
right up!' he bellowed and my throat went dry as Julie squealed in shame and I
heard Clare's disbelieving gasp. Shaking and weeping, my beautiful tormentor
reached down with trembling fingers and pushed her knickers down to her ankles
before bending right over the chair. I was right behind her and my shorts
tightened with a sudden erection as I stared at those two milky white globes
thrust up submissively for punishment, my eyes feasting on the crevice between
them garlanded by a cluster of dark hair peeping out from the narrow gap between
her thighs. I could hear Julie's gurgling tears as she awaited her nemesis,
then uncle George raised the cane to his shoulder and brought it down with a
whippy swish across the centre of Julie's bare bottom. She let out a wail of
pain and shot bolt upright, her hands grabbing at her punished bottom, her head
turning in mute appeal as she gasped for breath.

'Hurts, doesn't it! ...' her father said grimly '...well it's going to hurt a
lot more because that one doesn't count. Every time you move and rub your
bottom, I'll deliver the stroke again. Twelve to come!'
Julie cried in horror, then bent down again, her bottom writhing gently in pain
as my uncle waited, then craaack, the cane struck again about half an inch below
the first one and again with a howl of pain, Julie shot bolt upright then
remembered and resumed her position but too late.

'We still haven't started, Julie ...' my uncle said sternly '...twelve to come!'
and my cousin was now in pitiful tears of despair but there was no relenting.
The cane whipped in again and a third bright stripe appeared on Julie's arse but
this time she somehow managed to stay down though her scream was awful. By the
time she'd had eight strokes, each one a fiendish half inch apart and with six
still to go, her bottom looked like a beetroot covered in raised scarlet welts
and she was howling the place down. In addition my once proud cousin was quite
unable to prevent her legs scissoring as the cane struck, my excitement mounting
as the thin pink seam of Julie's sex and the tiny wrinkled button of her anus
came into view as her bottom cheeks parted and tightened in a pain racked
frenzy. Clare was watching in blushing horror as her friend received her just
deserts, presumably imagining what would happen to her when she got home and her
father was informed. I just wished I could be there too!

My uncle raised the cane again and whipped it across Julie's thighs, a blood
curdling shriek resulting and a graphic parting of her legs which revealed
everything she had, Julie staying in the thighs apart position for some seconds,
her legs jerking rapidly as the terrible sting took its toll. Two more across
her legs and the last three hard strokes across the welted bottom and Julie's
punishment was over. She sank to the floor, gasping for breath and screaming in
pain, her body jerking backwards and forwards as she tried to alleviate the
agony.

My uncle laid down the cane then walked over to his daughter and lifted her
chin. All fight had gone now and Julie looked terror stricken in case there was
more to follow.
'It's over, Julie ...' my uncle said quietly '...now I want to hear you
apologise on your knees to Robert for everything you've done! If you step out
of line once more, young lady, you will feel the weight of my rod again and
twice as hard!.

I remember floating on air as the chastened Julie, kneeling half naked with
knickers round her ankles, begged my forgiveness and promised never to ill treat
me again. I never found out if she meant it because she returned to college
early next day, too ashamed to face me again and life at the farm was idyllic
from that moment on.

Relations between us improved over time and Julie and I eventually became quite
close, her manner improving with age. She is a grandmother now and we keep in
touch occasionally at Christmas and birthdays but I always remember with
affection that summer of '41 and how the benefits of a little scientific
knowledge could bring a bully to heel!.

'Clara Birch' - Chapter Six

CLARA BIRCH by Anonymous - Chapter Six

There is an element of glee, I do confess, in warming a young lady's bottom, particularly when she is fey or shy. Men are so rarely dab hands in this sort of exercise, for their enthusiasm for a different kind of sport soon overtakes them. The exercise brings up the cock and swells the balls and ere she knows it and before her bottom is brought to proper condition, the female is plugged, corked or reamed.

I am using here, of course, terms that I learned later. My stepmother told me that there was a wondrous gleam in my eyes as I stung dear Clarissa's bottom, perhaps enjoying doing so the more for knowing that her ardent cheeks had not been so treated before. Upon receiving the first, her head shot up but quickly was pushed down again. Firmness in such initiations is all.

SPER-LATT! I smacked a second time, the roundness of the paddle covering almost two thirds of her bottom and bringing a rare shade of pink to her cheeks.

"The left cheek, then the right, then full across her orb and then beneath," I was instructed.

How privileged I was to be taught and with such an elegantly-formed pupil as Clarissa! Her face turned violently from side to side, my stepmother permitting the movement but ever keeping her palm clamped over the girl's mouth. My strokes beneath, coming up under her bulge, were not so effectual for I had not yet learned the particular and subtle wrist movements that since are second nature to me. A certain cushioning of air prevents the paddle by its very nature from belabouring too hard and yet it has a perfect sting and at the same time affords a deep sensation of heat.

Tears rolled from Clarissa's eyes over my stepmother's fingers as she strove by wild undulations of her hips and bottom to evade the strokes. As so often in such moments, a chance swinging of her hips would often bring her nearest bum cheek in perfect contact with the leather and so she was stung the more.

"Now, darling, three beneath. Bring them up well," I was told.

Clarissa's rounded derriere was by then a bright pink and merging into red. This time I measured the angle of the paddle and brought it up well, causing her to reach right up onto her toes under the impelling sweep of the paddle. "GAR_HARRRRRRRRR!" I heard her choke at each one and saw her burning cheeks contract and then relax. A nod from my mentor and I dropped the paddle. I wanted dearly to kiss those heated hemispheres and my stepmother could not miss the fact, so gave yet another nod and a little smile. Her lips distinctly formed the words, "Feuille de rose!"

Enchanted, and quite unable to resist, I fell silently to my knees behind the sobbing girl so that her luscious bottom loomed before my face. How violently she bucked when she first felt my lips! My stepmother, anticipating this movement, pressed her free hand firmly down into the small of sweet Clarissa's back and so restrained her movement, though her hot bum still bumped agreeably against my nose.

Thereupon I grasped her cheeks and, thumbing within her groove on both sides, drew the plump elastic half-moons just so far apart that her crinkled orifice came into my view. I heard the snorting of her breath through her nostrils, delved my tongue and found her coy, tight hole. Twirling my tongue, I felt a sense of ecstasy as the rimmed ridge came to my touch. What a melange of scents I experienced - that heady odor di femina of which only the most knowing and subtle think to write! Then perhaps in that moment the true meaning of feuille, or leaf, came to me and I curled my tongue upwards on both sides like a leaf that has drawn up its edges, and worked it tight within.

"THOOOOOOO!" I heard Clarissa whine.

"Very delicately, dear, just back and forth. Reach in as far as you can," I was then told.

Again and again Clarissa's bottom bumped my face, but I held her. Then, reaching up one hand, though not instructed to, I felt her quim, its softness, its rolled lips, its moistness. Running my forefinger between the oily cleft I sought her spot and there rubbed gently as my stepmother had done to Sarah.

"NEEEE-UUUUMPH!" Clarissa exploded, yet her most intimate parts were divulging secrets that her mind would not. Her legs began to tremble as I circled my fingertip and felt her bud erect itself the more. My tongue squirmed in her bottom-hole, drew out and then invaded once more. At that her bottom began to to rotate a little rather than to rebel, and of course my stepmother was watching, like a hawk, her every move. The urgings of Clarissa's hips were a little more womanly now rather than merely childish. The bulging flesh of her bottom glowed to my face and her exudations were becoming excitingly sticky. The breath rattled in her throat.

"All right," my stepmother snapped. She sensed exactly, it seemed, when Clarissa might come 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 seemed mesmerised, her chin gripped commandingly and one hand cupped beneath her naked bottom.

"Go, Clara - I will bring her down in a minute," I was told. Disappointment showed clear in my expression yet I did unquestioningly as I was told. There are moments, I have learned, when there should be no witnesses to what is said or done. Descending to the drawing room, I sensed 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 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 above perusing 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 much surprised when without question he rose to oblige, not so much out of courtesy I felt as 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 uncomfortably 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 than as an audience might be that awaits 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 of us to do so and then clapped her hands, making me 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 best 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 word was unknown to me and 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 or 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 hard. 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 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 that Robert has to learn , but now soon shall. Sarah, Clarissa - get up!"

"Oh! Can I not go up to my room?" Sarah wailed.

"Later, my dear, when you are both fit and ready for it. Stand forward both of you and side by side. Bertha - tie their hands. I will have no nonsense."

"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...please do not whip us," Sarah burst, and was ignored.

"Draw their dresses up and wreath them to their hips, Clara."

"NOOO!" came a screaming cry from both girls, yet all was done in a flash and Sarah - having no drawers on and Clarissa's evidently being left upstairs - both stood with bellies and 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 in 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.

"M..M..Madam, if I had known!" he spluttered, whereat my stepmother wheeled on him, her face a perfect fury and her half-veiled breasts rising and falling.

"Had known what? That you might take Clarissa's drawers down and pummel her at pleasure with your prick? Does your wife know of such tricks? Be silent, sir, and observe."

My surprise was no less great than that of Sarah and Clarissa who both peeped up from their shameful stance and then dropped their heads again.

"Very well, to their queenings," my stepmother said. Very gravely she then removed her gown as did Bertha who - plumper than she - was still well modelled in her fulsome curves. My heavens, what a sight! Both were corseted and tightly so, their breasts full bulging naked over rims of lace, nipples erect upon the ripe and creamy mounds. Arrogantly their bottoms moulded full into their directoire drawers whose crinkled legs were tightly spanned about their thighs.

"Make them look up, Clara. Hold their heads back!" my stepmother ordained so that I - a minor Mistress in my realm - stepped behind my sister and Clarissa, pulling on their hair, whereat both cried out and Sarah would have spat at me if she could.

"I h...h...hate you, Clara!" she hissed but was heard and received a sharp smack on her bottom from my stepmother who stepped forward and intruded her hand between us. "Oh woh woh!" Sarah sobbed and writhed her hips.

This done and all settled, as it were, there began what seemed to me on that first occasion to be a most bizarre ceremony. Moving to the two prone males and standing imperiously astride their forms, Bertha lowered her knickered bottom full over Charlie's face while Robert received the same salute from our stepmother. I held my breath, wondering what they were at, and had no doubt that Sarah and Clarissa were staring equally with wide-open eyes. Within seconds those two closely-sheathed moons had settled firmly upon the mouths and noses of the young males, Robert giving a great start but his companion remaining docile.

Down they thrust and there settled, knees fully bent and hands on hips while all sorts of splutterings and gaspings came from below. My stepmother wriggled a little and then settled herself even more firmly, as did Bertha, a look of utter triumph and pleasure on their faces.

This then was 'queening' when the female so subjugates the male in shameless fashion and asserts her full authority over him by thrusting the most 'shameful' part of her anatomy over his face, keeping it there the while that he gasps for breath and with his nose thrust up between the plump, splayed cheeks. Each facing the feet of her 'victim' , the two women stayed so for a full minute while great puffing sounds were heard from Robert and Charlie. Then, leaning forward, fingers found the young men's trouser buttons, flicked them open one by one and displayed to our eyes the already stiff bananas of their pricks.

"OH WOH-WOH," Sarah sobbed again at the sight and would have swayed had I not held her hair. Truly, I was most impatient with her, for the cocks - being of almost the same size and with foreskins drawn back and knobs displayed - looked most beautiful. Were they to be milked now? No. Having so revealed the shameless excitation they had caused, both the illustrious females then sat up again - for so I thought of them even though Bertha was of lowly social rank. The suspenders of both strained twixt stocking tops and corsets, thus somehow giving to the view an even lewder appearance of voluptuousness.

"GAAAAAAAAAR!" choked Robert in most muffled fashion. He was clearly at the end of his tether and even his neck becoming purple. Aware of this, my stepmother lifted her bottom an inch or two clear of his face and instructed him quietly to lick at her crotch and all else he could find with his tongue.

Sucking in his breath and flooding it out again, how eagerly he did it! Despite the ardent titillation, however, she remained perfectly still as did Bertha who had the same performed on her. Their eyelashes fluttered a little as though in token of the pleasure they were receiving from their 'slaves' - for such I late learned males often to be called. Their crotches grew distinctly moist so that by peering closely between the shoulders of Sarah and Clarissa I was able to see the rolled lips of their cunnies then impressed themselves through the fine material of their drawers, no doubt maddening their 'slaves' the more.

My stepmother breathed deeply then as though controlling her excitement. I had seen my brother put under her, as had Sarah. It was such a demonstration as we could never have dreamed of. I sensed the power of Woman then in all its majesty and my heart beat the faster. I was transported into a new world where Woman was the Queen and her 'King' but subject to her bottom's weight.

Bertha rose first. There was a certain gleam in her eye that betokened something else to come.

I was soon to learn - as were Sarah and Clarissa - exactly what it was to be.

Some nice old vintage spanking pics for you

Just to get the blog going again. I may have published some of these before but its ages ago and they are worth another look. I love some of these old black and white prints. Next chapter of Clara Birch is next.

My computer's health this time!!!!

Sorry readers but I have been off line for a week after my puter was hit by a virus swarm. I had to clear the disk and then slowly reload stuff but I will be posting over the next day or so

Alex