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Tuition

By: Hubee



This story was co-written by myself and sacrificedangel. She is famous for her Romance stories but she has another side, she is revealing her with trepidation.

The story is long and character driven. But the action is hot and horny. 

We hope you enjoy - comments welcome

*

"Only one more month...One more month till Uni...one month. You can put up with this place for one more month, its eight grand! That's worth two years at Uni."

I repeated my mantra over and over as I worked on getting the dining room floor up to a high polish, or "shinin' till I can eat off o'it" as Mr. Barton had so eloquently put it. The butler clearly had a thing for two maids on their hands and knees with our backsides in the air and was probably thinking about us polishing something far different than these damnable floors. 

One more month...

This afternoon the Earl would be back from vacationing somewhere exotic and I could not help but wonder if he knew what Mr. Barton got up to while he was away. Helping himself to the fresh venison that arrived from the Earl's island estates earlier in the month, kitchen soirees almost nightly where he and his friends sat and sampled the wine collection copiously and delighted in tormenting us in passing with wandering hands and lewd remarks. I looked over to Alice who was currently muttering every swear word she had ever learnt in English in her dainty French accent and I knew that girl would be speaking most heatedly with the Earl tonight. Most likely no sooner than he made it through the door.

Like me, Alice had never met the Earl, both of us having started at the beginning of the summer break. The housekeeper, Mary, had so far managed to stay well and truly quiet on the matter, swamping the man in abstract mystery that left only the family portraits to give any indication to the man in charge. His portrait did not put me at ease, though I found myself glancing at it often during my daily chores. Stern and foreboding as only an Earl can be on canvas, the only thing the painter captured that made him look remotely alive and not made of stone, was his eyes. 

I swept my polishing cloth over the outer edges of the dining hall skirting, admiring the dark wood and how it shone in the mid-afternoon light when Mary appeared beside me silently and gave me a start. Smart black shoes gleamed beside my knees almost as much as the polished floor as she addressed us. As I stood, I felt self-consciously disheveled. Mary, as always, seemed immaculate from her tidy bun and pretty face to tips of her toes, dressed in an elegantly cut suit jacket and skirt that accentuated her slight curves and impressive cleavage. For a woman in her early fifties, it was fair to say she was stunning, if only she would just smile. It was safe to say, I did not like her much. Her stern countenance seemed a trait that would have been more appropriate in times gone by rather than the present day.

"Come upstairs both of you." She ordered. Her deeply voiced command sent an involuntary shiver up my spine as I went to follow her with Alice behind me. Waiting behind her as she unlocked the sewing room, Mary cast a smirking glance back at us before opening the door and letting us inside.

"When the Earl is in residence, there is a different uniform to be worn." She began, her voice stern, her eyes daring us to contradict her. "There will be no arguments. You both are contracted for the full three months in order to get the full payment at the end of your stay."

I nodded, up until she handed me the small black and white pressed bundle.

"Christ Mary, you cannot be serious non?" Alice asked, the shock displayed on both our faces was ragingly evident in her question.

"You both signed the contract..."

"Oui, but not to dress like whores!"

"You agreed to any uniform Alice, this is the uniform worn when he is in residence. If you go against your contracts you will be taken to court, and Alice that will be au revoir visa, and Kat, bye bye University. You will wear what is in your bundles, and nothing else."

She had us. And the smirking bitch knew it.

I had remained silent. I couldn't find my damn tongue, it had turned to ash in my mouth as we were dismissed and I walked silently to me room as Alice continued to rage beside me to her own. Entering my small room, I stood by the window, and looked over our 'new' uniform, and gasped...there wasn't very much to look over. The uniform was standard black, rather softer material than our usual starched uniforms; a low squared neckline...shit a very fucking low squared neckline. Jesus, I would be lucky if that covered my breasts!

"You will wear what is in your bundles, and nothing else."

Shit.

Stripping quickly down to bare skin, I pulled the uniform over my head and down my body before turning to look in the mirror...long bare legs looked back at me, legs that carried on upwards, and upwards, past where the normal uniform would have ended them with its sharp black lines, the shirt section of the new apparel flittered lightly around the tops of my thighs, a bare four inches from my pussy. I turned back to the bundle before appraising myself further, hoping that this uniform was some kind of over-jacket of some sort, that there was a fuller skirt, shift, pant-a-fucking-lets or something that I had missed.

There wasn't. The rest of the small bundle in front of me contained a pair of snowy white stockings, a lacy embroidered edge on the self-hold ups...and a pair of positively indecent lacy knickers, Christ, they weren't even knickers! Holding them so I could inspect them properly, I was shocked, and awed at the intricate lace. Barely there and crotch-less. I did wonder what Alice would think of them, but didn't have to wait long before I heard an outburst of spectacular proportions coming from her room next door. 

I almost laughed. Almost.

Still trying not to look at myself in the mirror, I pulled on the stockings over my legs, making sure they would stay up on my thighs...evidently Mary knew our measurements, before I moved to slide the crotch-less panties on, unable to stop the flush of mortification from creeping into my cheeks at the sight we would be, and in front of that perv Mr. Barton too. I flushed more when I felt the edges of the lace move against my bare puss, the slightly scratchy material molding itself to the edges of my lips.

I turned to look at the picture I made in the mirror, finally taking the entire uniform in. Long legs from my black work heels, clad in snowy white, reaching the inch white frill around the base of the fluttering skirt; the bodice was molded ending just below my breasts, evidently to keep my breasts pushed up and over. The low square neckline was lined with lace too, the black of the uniform ending under my 38 D's, and only the lace supporting them, my nipples evident to the world as the material rubbed against them.

The uniform continued over my shoulders but not my upper back, which was bared down to the edges of the molded bodice, the material that lay over my shoulders following a line down my side to join the bodice, little puffs of lace sprouting from the edges of my short sleeves.

Pulling the last of the items from the bundle, an apron so small it was entirely useless, I tied it anyway. I needed this job, I needed the eight grand. My course was not cheap, and the price of moving as far away from my mother as possible was a steep one. I had worked hard over the past two years since I left college, slowly squirreling away the earnings every month until the increasingly healthy balance had soon become the thing that restored my confidence. Getting my acceptance letter from Oxford and their highly recommended English Department had increased that tenfold. Now, her words and insults no longer stung quite so much. 

I repeated my mantra again as I viewed myself in the mirror, turning in every direction before finally daring to bend over. I was shocked. My hands braced on the bed as I imagined I was cleaning a table; I looked back at my reflection and drew in a shuddering breath. My arse was presented up, the flair of the skirt riding high, exposing my pale cheeks lightly shrouded by the nearly non-existent underwear. But that wasn't what shocked me. The glistening lips of my cunt, surrounded intimately by the lace, were protruding, the tight seam of the gusset rubbing deliciously against my clit whenever I moved and to my shock, was making me wet. The very sight of me, was making me wet.

The crash of Alice's temper tantrum from next door woke me from my trance just as my fingers were moving to touch the swollen pink lips, and I stood upright just as Mary entered the room with Mr. Barton to find the source of the noise. Obviously content that it was not me, Mary left and went to the next room leaving Mr. Barton standing in my doorway, his yellowed tongue flicking out grotesquely to lick his lips as he ran the flat of his palm undisguised over the rapid tenting of his black butler's uniform. 

After a few minutes, the stern voice of Mary quieted and Alice's temper became subdued, although I could still hear through the thin walls what was being said.

"I am bringing this up with the Earl. Je ne suis pas heureux!!"

"You can speak with him when he returns, but for now, get dressed!" Mary was livid, her face showing a pale flush of fury as she came back into my room.

"Very good Miss Soren. Go down and scrub the entrance hall. It needs to be spotless for the Earl's return."

I must have hesitated a second too long because she took a step closer, trying to make herself look broader and more threatening.

"Do you have an issue too Miss Soren?"

"No Mary." I lied; the fact that Mr. Barton was still in my room, still rubbing his palm over himself, being the main factor I had kept quiet about voicing my concerns about the attire. Besides...One month till University...Eight Grand...

I didn't take this job for nothing.

"Good, then get about your tasks."

I began to step from the room, still hearing a furious Alice muttering in French from her room beside me as I tried to go sideways past Mr. Barton through the narrow doorway, the wretched creature deciding to rub against my almost exposed arse in the process. Rushing from the room, I practically ran down to get my cleaning basket, hoping Alice kept them busy enough for me to do this to completion without Mr. Barton bearing witness to my arse up in the air, my naked core up for display. Hearing Alice begin to squeal, I knew I was ok. I could literally hear them dressing her in the uniform, hear Mary blasting at her to quit her moving lest she ruin the stockings; and when she was finally escorted downstairs, red faced and furious, I had finished my task.

"Get on with setting out the dinner platters. The Earl will be home soon, he will want dinner to be served straight away. He has two friends coming for dinner. So make sure you set out enough from what Mrs. Hiddleton has cooked."

"Yes Mary." I said softly, even as I quietly seethed. One month. I was not one to let my temper show, and thought I was doing rather well considering these new circumstances. Alice, however, was the complete opposite, and I could tell from the set of her jaw and her stance, she was about to lose it in spectacular 'Alice' fashion. Nudging her discretely, to distract her from her anger, she finally answered Mary, albeit through gritted teeth before we turned and made our way through to arrange the platters. 

"C'est intolerable!" Alice hissed as we shut the kitchen doors behind us, blocking us in semi privacy as we went about putting on the gloves to handle the food.

"I know, but we signed a contract Alice, and I for one need that damn money for tuition." I hissed back. I instantly regretted my unusually harsh tone when I caught Alice's shocked expression, but dismissed that feeling when she opened her mouth once again and became almost shrill.

"You are not seriously going to go ahead with wearing this bloody awful uniform? Il est barbare!!"

"It is only a uniform." I squirmed, feeling that seam in the lace rubbing torturously against my clit again as Alice glared at me, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. "Oh all-fucking-right, I'm not happy about it, but I need the money."

"I will be speaking with the Earl tonight; I will not be made to wear clothes like a French maid."

"You are a French maid." I joked lightly. This night was slowly becoming depressing with Alice's foul mood.

"Bitch." Alice hit my arm hard, shhing me when we both heard the door open. "MERDE, quickly we need these plates on the table before that Barton-pig takes them through!"

I rushed to put the different items together, trying to make it look as perfect as possible before quickly taking it out, displaying it on the table, and rushing out before the Earl and his friends could enter the hall and catch a glimpse of my white arse fleeing. I may have accepted the fact that I have to wear this wholly indecent uniform, but I would be damned if I was not at least a bit shy about having so much flesh on display. Holding the door open for Alice, she ducked through just as they entered to be seated for their first course.

"Shh!" Alice whispered, as we moved to catch a peek at the men entering the hall. "They are quite handsome non?"

I was speechless, they were quite handsome. The three of them were tall, the two that sat in the lesser seats at the table were blonde, well built, and quite possibly brothers, both looked to be in their thirties, the man sitting in the Earl's seat at the end of the table was a little older, maybe mid to late thirties, and had the blackest hair; he too was tall, well built, though a little leaner than the other two. He should have that painting destroyed -- it did the man no justice at all. Strong jaws, and large hands, and all dressed like Lords and Earls usually were, in their finest Armani suits...and although laughing amongst themselves, their gazes turned cold, their mouths set in grim lines whenever Mary and Mr. Barton drew too close to the table.

"You are really going to talk to him?" I asked, wondering if the Earl's scowl could flay flesh from bones.

"Oui, I will be speaking with him tonight." 

Brave, or incredibly stupid. I thought.

The bell rang for their next course and I took a deep breath, carrying the tray as trained, to the table of men. As their eyes snapped up on our approach, I could feel my embarrassment turn me pink from my toes to my scalp, their blatantly male scrutiny palpable as I moved to the left, and went around the front of the table to place their plates as Alice gathered their dirty ones. I knew it was not the standard manner to deliver the meals, technically I should have been placing it in front of them from over their right shoulders...but the thought of having my bare cunt that close to someone where they would be close enough to reach, to see, and to scent me, just didn't appeal. 

Taking the lesser of two evils, I placed them in front of the men, beginning with the guests, as trained, terribly aware of their perusal of my breasts through the very revealing lace; the swells of my breasts threatening to spill from their half-arsed confines, my nipples swollen and protruding almost painfully against the lace as it rubbed and caressed them into sharp points, sending intense tingles and warmth over my skin. Yes, definitely glad I chose this direction. Right now the lace between my thighs was torturing me, and I could feel my lips slick and warm with every movement my thighs made.

Placing the last plate in front of the Earl, I hesitated as he pointed to his glass.

"Refill that."

Taking the decanter holding the red wine, I leant forward, concentrating on my task and praying I didn't spill anything over the pristine white cloth; my arms held tightly against my sides, unfortunately pushing my breasts together even more as I began pouring. I felt something and shivered, imagining things, must be...at least until I felt it again, cold, hard and shoving forcefully against my pussy lips. FUCK. I jumped, knocking the wineglass over the cloth as the hard head of it took advantage of my jump and pressed just inside me. Scrambling away quickly from the intrusion, I moved to keep my front facing the men, shocked to find the last blonde man licking the hugely rounded brass tip of his cane, which was currently glistening with my juices. I turned back to face the Earl, who's expression was one of barely controlled rage.

"Clean that up now."

Jesus, his voice gave me shivers. Laced with authority, menace, the deep timbre reverberated through the hall, up to the rafters as he gave me his order. Jumping out of my shocked trance, I took the white towel from my arm and began soaking up the spilt wine apologizing. 

"Not with that." The Earl growled, pulling my towel from me and tossing it carelessly onto the painstakingly polished floor. "Use your tongue."

Stunned to the spot, I was certain I had not heard him right and did not move; until he reached over the table and slapped me hard.

"NOW!"

Blinking back tears from the sting of his blow, I leant over the tablecloth, and lapped at the wine with my tongue, taking it into my mouth and hating the taste. I never could understand certain people's obsession with wine, it all tasted like varying versions of vinegar to me. Leaning further forward, I moved the table flowers from my path as I continued clearing the spillage, my tongue flicking out over the rapidly drying pink stain as his eyes never left mine. His scrutiny was intense, dark eyes set in a strong face, his black hair showing only the tiniest hint of grey coming in small strands as it lay around his collar, he elbow bent and resting on the arm of his chair watching me, watching him. 

I didn't hear the chair move. Didn't see anything but the pink liquid still in front of me, and the Earl in front of me, concentrating on praying the lace managed to keep my breasts in. My thighs rested against the edge of the table now, my body hovering barely an inch above the sodden cloth as I reached the last of the wine. I didn't even hear them leave their seats.

Suddenly I saw the Earl move, his arms rushing out and grabbing my own, pulling them from my sides and dropping me to the table hard as he yanked them out in front of me, his eyes focused over my back, over my now visible arse, as I felt the hard and cold head of the brass cane again, toying over my pussy lips, nudging them apart as I squirmed.

"Please, stop! Please, no, don't..." I squeaked and shuddered through to my core, as the hard slap of one of the blonde's hands came down sharply across my arse. I felt the hard head of the ball nudge harder, slipping in my juice, before beginning to enter my pussy, slowly and determined, even as I renewed my struggles, I felt my lips give way through the crotch-less panties, swollen and wet from the play of the lace against my intimate skin, the seam rubbing over my clit for the past three hours. FUCK, I felt my pussy give a little around the ball as he gave a light shove and growled when he couldn't get further.

"Fuck she's a tight bitch."

I felt like shouting, "of course I'm fucking tight, I've not had anything wider than my finger up my snatch!" but I didn't need to, as the blonde removed the ball with a sharp tug and shoved two fingers roughly into me.

"You've got yourself a little virgin here Bastian." The man chuckled darkly, his fingers continuing to play inside my pussy and finding me wet, I could feel his long fingers probe painfully against my hymen, and cursed my body's reaction to their abuse. Some things could be lied about, I didn't want them to do this, I was ashamed to be pinned down in front of these men, I was upset to be abused by a brass headed cane, and a stranger's fingers...but my body wouldn't lie...my body wanted him to push deeper and fill me up, my pussy wanted him to shove through my virginity with his cane and sate the twisting ache that had been growing in my belly from the second I had put on those fucking crotch-less panties.


Tuition Ch. 02



~~~Bastion~~~

I walked from the library quickly, my mind roiling with thoughts and emotions. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to marshal my thoughts -- and slow my racing heartbeat. Mary stood patiently and silently in position, awaiting instructions. If she thought my behavior or demeanor were out of the ordinary she was too well trained to say anything. Too well disciplined might be a better description. She had been the last 'plaything' of my father -- the 6th Earl. Now there was a man who knew the meaning of 'discipline' I thought, reflecting on the past. I remembered that Mary had been his favourite, eventually moving up the hierarchy of the house to become Housekeeper. It wasn't favouritism that had earned those promotions; she was good at the job. And if anyone had suspected otherwise I could have told them about the down-side of being my father's favourite. He had run his house to 'old fashioned' standards -- mistakes were punished. I'd learnt first hand that Mary could take the cane and tawse and paddle like none I had seen before - or since.

I kept her on after my father died and I inherited the title. Certainly I had fond memories of how she had been given to me by my father on my 16th birthday. An older woman is the dream of many a boy -- but one that came true for me. In her mid-thirties at that time it had been a wonderful introduction to some of the privileges that went with the title of Earl of Shorncliffe. But it was not a sentimental decision to continue her employment. Mary had shown the steel necessary to keep the other, newer, girls in line. She was indispensable.

I glanced at her, noticing the eyes correctly downcast, hands at her sides, waiting on -- there was no other way to put it -- waiting on my pleasure. Mentally I nodded approval at how inculcated she had been by years of training.

"You may attend to the library now Mary. Adam and Wren are still in there -- as are the two new girls. You may care to know that the girls performed...satisfactorily." 

To myself I wondered why I had chosen to phrase my words in that particular way. Was it because I did not want to reveal too much to Mary? Not to let her see how much what I had I had just experienced had affected me? Perhaps my thoughts and feelings were too disordered to process and express clearly? The girl had shaken me up in a way I had not expected.

I had become accustomed to the serving girls coming and going, staying in the house a summer, for six months, but not living in my memory more than a few days after they left. Well chosen by Barton they all, with greater and lesser degrees of enthusiasm, had succumbed and become playthings for my guests and myself. But my reaction to Kat had suddenly showed me that, what had seemed like a desirable way to ensure variety, might actually be turning stale and boring.

I realised that I needed to impose some discipline - upon myself for a change -- and make plans. I found myself strangely excited at the prospect, energized by the possibilities the new girl had revealed to me.

Mary nodded, bobbing her head in part curtsey. I started to walk down the corridor, then turned back to her as her hand rested on the handle of the library door, an inspiration occurring to me.

"Mary? That new girl, the Scottish one, not the French tart." 

She nodded her understanding of the distinction and waited for my instructions. 

"Fit her with the 'virgin's girdle' -- tonight."

Once more she nodded. Then she surprised me by smiling -- and looking directly at me. There was a sparkle in her green eyes and a smile on her generous mouth -- the look of a person recalling a fond memory. 

"It has been many years since the girdle was used in this house."

Her comment - and direct gaze - shocked me. 

"Mary! I do not pay you for....for such impertinence. You will see Mr. Barton first thing tomorrow morning and request six punishment strokes! Understood?"

Mary's eyes were downcast again. "Yes M'lord I understand." she said, before entering the library. But as she did, it seemed to me that she still smiled. But in the gloom of the corridor I could not be sure. Not sure enough to make an issue of it.

Once in my room I stripped and turned on the shower. My cock was still half hard, even after my exertions. Glancing down I noticed traces of blood on the shaft, witness to the surrender of the Scottish girl's maidenhead. Instantly my cock was fully erect. I turned off the shower and switched the taps to fill a bath. Once I was deep in the water I allowed myself to fall into a reverie, trying to sort out my feelings and deciding how to proceed.

"What a find that girl might be." I whispered to myself. 

"Kat" - I couldn't carry on calling her 'the Scottish one' pretending that depersonalizing her made me think differently. I went back over the events of the night in my mind.

She made an impression from first entering the room. The uniform suited her and she suited the uniform. Her exciting curves filling it much better than the French girl. Her pathetic attempts not to reveal too much, in clothes that were designed to reveal everything, were somehow charming. But I had really started to notice her as she served. I could see the trembling running through her, making the dishes on her tray rattle. A practiced eye told me that it was not fear or shame or any other negative emotion causing this - just pure lust; raw, native passion. But it didn't need expertise to see that. Even the unpracticed eye would easily notice the evidence every time she bent over, exposing her wet cunt, glistening in the candlelight -- how ever much she tried to avoid exposing herself.

Then I recalled my amazement as I watched her licking up the wine from the table. Now, thinking back, I almost regretted slapping her - now I knew how 'green' she was. Barton usually employed girls with a bit more experience. (How he found this out in the interview I had never enquired.) But it had been such a thrill to see her reaction! Shock and dismay were clear in her face, fat tears spilling from her lashes -- but there was an excitement in those same eyes, glowing like a banked fire. I literally shivered as I recalled the look on that pretty face -- cheek livid with my handprint.

But all these thrills had been surpassed by her reactions in the library. She had watched me cane Alice and it had obviously excited her; beyond anything she had experienced before. My cock twitched and swelled as I recalled breaching her hymen. She had loved it! I have often had the pleasure -- and sometimes the honour -- of being a girl's 'first'. But none of them had enjoyed it as much as Kat -- and none had enjoyed me taking their virginity as much as her.

Then the delights of her virgin arse! It was all I could do not start stroking my cock as I thought about how she had pushed herself back on me when I had stopped thrusting. Her first cock, first in her arse - and she wanted more! With lovers I am gentle when introducing them to buggery. With the serving girls I don't care. Either way I have not found one who actually liked it -- not the first time at least. Most had, at the very least, learned to accept it -- following a variety of 'inducements'. These varied according to their position and their temperament. For the servants the cane was usually enough. For lovers from my own social strata this would have caused 'talk' -- and I found jewelry worked (almost) as well. 

But not Kat. "First time and she loved it." I repeated in my head again. "She's a natural."

I couldn't help but make the comparison with Alice. The French girl was certainly pretty, and sexually skilled - but she was not a 'natural'. Nor was she a virgin, in any sense. Her reactions in the library had shown me that she was not a novice when it came to being to being dominated and punished. Someone had trained her; half trained her anyway -- but not well enough. She'd acquiesced to all we demanded of her -- but only after a hard beating.

In that way she reminded me of a horse I had once bought from a friend -- a French bred mare by coincidence. The horse was as pretty and well proportioned as any I had ever seen. She trotted and cantered like a dream in the paddock, but in the field, during a hunt; it was a different story. To get the best from her required almost constant application of the crop. But even then you always knew that, when it came to the really challenging fences, she would refuse, however hard the beating.

It gave me no pleasure to hunt, to ride, like that. Much better a well-trained mount that responded to a touch of the reins, the slightest pressure from thigh or knee -- or the prick of a spur just occasionally. To get that sort of responsiveness, that innate understanding and responsiveness, I believe you need to be involved in the training from very early on -- and allow no other riders until that level of mastery is established.

This theory shaped my thoughts as I drained the bath and made ready for bed. I made my plans accordingly -- and the excitement created by doing so kept me awake long after I turned off the light.

Day 2 - AM

In the morning I breakfasted with my guests from the previous night, Wren and Adam. The brothers were in fine fettle after last night's fun in the library.

The French windows of the breakfasting room are opened wide onto the South Lawn. Already the day promised to be warm and we talked about how to spend our time. Adam and Wren congratulated me on my choice of new staff but chided me for not sharing "the blonde with the big tits." I smiled and explained that the host must retain some privileges for himself.

"You can use Alice any way you like, as long as you stay. But I have plans for......the blonde." I told them.

Wren had obviously been thinking about how to 'use' the French girl and made some suggestions. I summoned Barton, and asked him to arrange things to Wren's specifications. With that done Wren grinned at Adam and said,

"We should have some real fun with the French slut tonight. It would be even better if you'd let us play with your one as well."

I couldn't help but laugh at his persistence, shaking my head. Wren, Adam and I, being cousins in a close family, had been raised together from childhood. They were literally like brothers to me and I loved them as such -- but they could be every bit as exasperating as any real siblings. Adam, the elder of the two, would inherit my title if I died without an heir. If this subject ever came up he expressed only disgust at the thought. A surfeit of money and an almost total lack of responsibilities allowed both of them to indulge in almost unbridled hedonism. Neither wanted this way off life to be constrained in any way.

This combination of factors freed them to explore any whim or desire -- and all they seemed to wish to explore was sex. Always curious and experimental they had, over a period of time, progressed from adventurous to daring and then quickly on to kinky. By the present day the heights of perversity have long since been scaled and they were now in a dark, uncharted region on the other side of that peak. 

With my own unusual interests and passions I had long ago learned not to judge others for theirs, especially not those of my cousins and best friends. But they had left me behind in their desire to 'try everything once, then a second time -- just to be sure.' They now indulged in areas that are of no interest to me whatsoever. But just having them around was a tonic to me and I could always rely on them for something outrageously inventive -- especially when it comes to 'playing' with the staff.

This thought reminded me it was time for the staff inspection. The bell pull summoned Barton quickly to my side.

"Bring the servants in for an inspection Barton." He retreated and shortly after opened the door to admit Mary, Alice and Kat.

Adam and Wren grinned lasciviously at the sight of the two younger girls. Alice responded by blushing and bowing her head. Kat did the same but it was obvious that there was much less artifice in her reaction. Mary, as always, betrayed no emotion.

"Before you begin your duties for the day I wish to inspect you and ensure my instructions have been carried out." I announced -- a little portentously I realized.

"Beginning with you Mary; show me."

Mary stepped forward, eyes downcast demurely and correctly. She turned her back to me and raised her skirt. Slowly the hem crept up over her stocking tops and then her firm arse. I knew her to be at least 50 but she had a body that would be the envy of a teenager. As her buttocks were revealed I saw the lovely parallel stripes left by Barton's cane. My butler is such an artist with a four foot length of rattan that it (almost) made up for his other failings.

"Very good work Barton." I told him and he dipped his head, trying to hide his smirk. 

Then I instructed Mary further, "Show the girls as well Mary."

I think I detected a hint of a blush, as she turned round to show her bottom to Alice and Kat. I thought it a salutary lesson for the two younger servants to know that not even their boss was exempt from my disciplinary standards.

Mary held her skirt up until I gestured to her that she could resume her place in the line.

"Alice." I snapped. The French girl stepped forward with a smile on her lips and dropped a flirty curtsey, which stopped just short of being mocking.

Keeping my face utterly expressionless I order, "Show me."

She turned and bent over, raising the skirt of her tiny uniform with one hand, staring back at me over her shoulder. Immediately I could see that Wren's suggestion - and my orders - had been properly carried out. The cousins started whistling and clapping as the bulbous head of the butt-plug was revealed -- nestling between her cheeks.

Without waiting for instructions she straightened and turned, still smiling. "Est mon cul... ....my ass......too fortement for you Monsieur, too tight?" She looks at Wren and Adam. "Did you not, last night, find my derriere tres réceptif?"

She looked back to me. "Do you really think my ass needs étirage...how do you say? Stretching?" 

I realized that this strumpet was trying to be coquettish, perhaps believing it came naturally to her - being French. This opinion was misplaced and her impertinence was intolerable.

"When I want to fist your arse you will be glad it has been stretched, you impudent harlot." I told her, voice like a whip crack. I was gratified to see a look of horror and fear replace the smile on her face. Then I almost smiled when I heard Adam whisper to his brother, 

"And he says we are the kinky ones?"

"Back in line - and fermez votre bouche." I told the chastened Alice.

I drew a deep breath to still my anger and looked at Kat. In a gentler voice I said, "Your turn now."

I waited to see how she would react. I was aware that much of what happened last night, occurred in the heat of passion. Now in the cold light of day (in a metaphorical sense, rather than a meteorological one) things were different. She stepped forward, and from her awkward gait I could tell that her knees must almost be literally knocking together. She looked at no-one and she turned deliciously pink with embarrassment, not just her face but across her luscious breasts as well. She was shaking so much I wondered for a second if those blushing breasts might wobble from their lacy restraints. 

But she didn't hesitate. She raised her short skirt to reveal the 'virgin's girdle'. I suppose that it might crudely be described as a chastity belt, but it was no mediaeval device. Created to my father's specification it was designed to prevent the wearer from stimulating her clitoris, vagina or anus. I had heard of -- and personally experienced -- women who could orgasm from stimulating other parts of their body than these. But for those lucky individuals it was always just a nice addition to the main menu of an orgasm from these 'primary sources', as it were. Even if Kat could make herself cum in these ways I knew it would not be the same. To be deprived of this stimulation when relief is required is, at best, like an entrée without the main course -- the sauce without the substance.

I smiled wickedly as she revealed herself to us, Wren and Adam chuckled. They had seen the effect the girdle could have - on other servants. They were obviously looking forward to seeing what it might do to Kat.

"When you need the bathroom you will need to see Mary for the key, for the lock." I explained - a humiliating but titillating by-product of the girdle's design.

When she heard me say this she risked a glance in my direction. "I need.....I need to.... could I have the key now? Please..........Sir?"

I paused for a second. I considered ordering her to relieve herself, there and then, in front of us all, but decided not to. I had some concern for my grandfather's Afghan rug that she stood on, but it had more to do with a desire not to move too fast with this one.

"Mary will accompany you in a moment." I told her, not explaining that Mary would accompany her every time until I decided that the girdle was to be removed, to ensure she didn't take advantage of the situation.

"You will attend my guests and I at dinner, and.....afterwards. You may go about your duties now." I announced and watched them depart. I had to make a conscious effort to tear my gaze away from Kat's retreating backside before turning to join Adam and Wren in their banter about our plans for the day.

Day 2 - PM

The second evening set the tone for the coming week. As usual we met in the Blue Drawing room for pre-dinner drinks, served by Alice and Kat - both looking disgracefully sexy in their uniforms. Alice, pleased with the attention she was getting from my cousins, seems to have forgotten her objections to the outfit. She flaunted herself outrageously, bending over at every opportunity. Mainly because the boys took these opportunities to slip a hand into the top of her uniform, to tweak a nipple; or up her skirt to finger her receptive cunt. They also delighted in twisting the head of the butt-plug, as if to make sure it remained deep and secure in her arse.

She made mock protestations about their attentions, which seemed to amuse them -- for a while. Wren got most of the attention because he used his walking stick whenever she was close, easily forcing it deeper into the French tart's pussy than he had managed with Kat the night before. But they soon tired of flirting with a sure thing like Alice.

It was Adam who changed the tone when Alice brought him a fresh drink. As she approached he unzipped his fly and took out a half-hard cock. Without a word to her, without a glance in her direction, he took the drink with one hand and forced her to her knees with the other. She opened her mouth in an outrage which was no longer 'mock', to protest at his rudeness. But Adam just took this as an opportunity to shove his length between her lips. When she tried to pull back he grabbed her hair, twisting it tight and rammed his rapidly hardening cock deeper into her throat. It was a good, old-fashioned skull fucking and Alice was quickly choking and gagging. But, as if totally unaware of her distress, Adam continued to chat with his brother and me as he abused her mouth. He put down his champagne when he came, but only to take his cock from between Alice's bruised lips and spray a huge load of sperm across her face, already wet with tears and drool.

Zipping himself he picked up the still cold glass of 1997 Blanc de Noir and downed the remainder with a satisfied gulp. Only then did he deign to glance down at the cowering girl. Then he looked at me, before asking,

"Do you think your slut looks better coated in spunk?".

I grinned at him and nodded.

Without looking at her Adam told the girl.




Tuition Ch. 02



"Spunk suits you. You are not permitted to clean yourself up until we are finished with you." Then he waved his empty glass in her face and added,

"Now get me another Bolly, sharpish!"

Alice tottered to her feet, legs rubbery. Her mood had changed quickly and is now much more to my liking. Eyes downcast, not speaking until spoken to, quick to serve when commanded. 

"Perhaps" I thought, "she is starting to learn that this not a game. As long as she is here she is our fuck toy, we don't have to be nice, or ask nicely -- we can just take what we want. Take her and use her, like a tissue, to be discarded when the need has been fulfilled."

But I suspected she might still need some encouragement in order to become the compliant toy I require her to be. I summoned Barton before we moved to the dining room and ordered a few items from the 'play room' behind the library. He brought them on a tray and left them where the girls could not help but notice them.

Once seated for dinner it became apparent that, if Alice was now more reserved with Adam and Wren, she was scared stiff of me. Alice served me my soup whilst trying to stay as far away as possible. The hot liquid was swirling in the plate as she placed it before me. I almost hoped that she would spill some so that I have a reason to punish her. Not that I needed a reason in this situation, but my innate sense of fair play made me resist the thought of giving a thrashing without some form of justification.

Instead I just smiled grimly at her, enjoying how she looked with Adam's sperm drying, flaking and cracking on her cheeks. She didn't look at me as served -- which was how it should be. Perhaps she sensed my feelings towards her; perhaps she was still worried about my anal fisting comment? I was sure she now believed it a real possibility, rather than a twisted joke on my part.

The bisque was delicious and much appreciated by Adam and Wren. Kat cleared my bowl away and I delighted in how she trembled as she did so. She didn't look at me as she took the plate. But I sensed again that her shaking was not symptom of fear. At least not the fear Alice was gradually beginning to know. 

As she departed with my plate I found myself having to exert a great deal of control to overcome my desire to stroke her exposed arse as she turned from the table. Thinking back on how we had found her last night I knew she had a deeply voyeuristic streak. She had been getting off on watching us use Alice. Now I wanted her to watch again. I wanted her to watch for as long as possible, to become excited but not involved.

The main course was roast beef -- one of Mrs Hiddleton's specialities. Cooked quite rare; the way I preferred and accompanied by hot horseradish sauce as well as asparagus and hollandaise sauce.

We polished off the main course with gusto, the girls temporarily forgotten. Adam and Wren demanded seconds -- their appetite for food almost matched their gluttony regarding sex. Kat and Alice removed the plates and cutlery and returned with strawberries and fresh double cream.

I saw Wren frown at something on the table. He picked up the Hollandaise sauce and looked up at Alice.

"Do you think we still need this?" he asked his voice ominously quiet. "Do you think this goes with strawberries?" I could see the concern in her eyes as she shook her head.

"Then why didn't you clear it away you lazy cow?!" He shouted, the change in volume making her jump.

Then he smiled and continued in completely different tone of voice. "It would be pity to waste it though, wouldn't it?"

The French girl stood mutely, waiting - unsure and unsettled by his questions. I had watched Wren's almost psychopathic mood changes unsettle stronger wills than hers in the past.

"Are you hungry Alice?" he asked her pleasantly. The sudden changes in Wren's emotional state threw her off-guard. She made the mistake of nodding and answering, 

"Oui Monsieur."

He opened his trousers and poured the remaining Hollandaise over his hardening cock.

"Then have some of this." He ordered, gesturing at his prick. 

I watched her control herself so as not to roll her eyes in disgust - then she sank reluctantly to her knees, taking his member into her mouth. She paused, as if awaiting instructions, but Wren was now playing the laid-back type and he let Alice make her own mind up. She soon started to bob her head, taking half his length with each stroke. The sauce stained her cheeks, mixing with the dried spunk, as she felated my cousin.

Then I looked at Kat, to gauge her reaction. She was standing, watching in a trance -- completely mesmerized by what was happening in front of her. I smiled as I saw her unconsciously licking her lips. I knew that all she wanted right now was to be in Alice's position, however degrading that may be. She wanted Wren's cock in her mouth. From the look on her face I guessed that probably any cock would have done right now.

The sight of what Alice was doing to his brother roused Adam into action. He moved behind the kneeling French girl and roughly raised her hips. She now knew better than to stop sucking before she was told otherwise.

"Perhaps she'd like a big helping of British beef at the same Wren?" he said as he pressed his eager cock head into her cunt.

Now it is my turn not to roll my eyes and reveal my feelings towards the cousin's crude attempts at humour. Adam and Wren's idea of a 'good joke' had always been different to my own. For them no joke was too old - and no prank too clichéd. 

But when it comes to refinements in sadism they were constantly inventive.

I watched as Adam took a handful of horseradish from the Spode serving dish and smeared it on his partially withdrawn cock.

"But it wouldn't be right to feed our French slut rost bif without a suitable sauce." He laughed, before plunging his cock into her cunt with a vicious lunge and began to pound her vigorously.

It only took a few minutes for the horseradish to start irritating Alice's delicate internal membranes. Immediately she started to struggle. She wanted Adam's cock out of her suddenly burning pussy and Wren's cock out of her mouth so she could moan. But neither of them was going to give her that chance. 

Wren forced her head down on his cock and seemed to be enjoying Alice's strangled cries of pain. And Adam loved the way the French girl's arse wriggled franticly, as if trying to throw him off. He slapped her arse repeatedly and even shouted a few 'Yee Haws', like some sort of perverted rodeo rider, whilst he drove his length deeper into a cunt that must have felt like it was on fire. 

I stole another glance at Kat and saw her in the throes of excitement. Her eyes were half closed, hooded, but focused intently on the three people fucking in front of her. I could see her panting, trembling, and her hands clutching the hem of her uniform -- knuckles white. I sensed that she was so aroused that all she wanted to do was thrust her fingers into her pussy and climax. Perhaps she knew the 'girdle' would make any attempt futile? Perhaps she feared the punishment that would automatically follow if she did try?

I wondered if I was looking at her too often, then looking away like a callow adolescent. Had she noticed? It seems unlikely. She was watching everything with an intensity that was captivating.

Shaking off these thoughts I clicked my fingers to attract her attention, then again, but that failed to break her focus. I had to almost shout -- "Kat!" - before she looked at me. Her face at first showed shock, as if she had been woken from a dream, then alarm when she realised I have been trying to get her attention. I gestured at her to come and stand at my side and she hurried to comply.

Beside us Adam was still pounding Alice from behind. The end of the butt-plug in her arse must have been jamming against his pubic bone as he drove into her. I knew the horseradish must also be stinging his prick almost as much as her pussy. But, knowing his predilections as I did, I was sure it is all added spice for him -- or added relish in this case.

As if too prove the point he pulled out of Alice's cunt and smeared more horseradish on his hard cock at the same time as he wrenched the butt-plug from the abused French girl's arse. Guessing what was coming she started to writhe more; her mewling around Wren's pistoning cock grew louder. He in turn slowed his thrusts and held her head hard up against his groin, her throat full of his cock. Eventually either the lack of air or the helplessness of her struggles overcame Alice and she stopped squirming.

The butt-plug had left her arse gaping open and, thick as Adam's cock was; it drove easily into the depths of her bowels. He hit bottom with a satisfied grunt and grasped her buttocks, digging in his nails to skewer her burning arse with every last inch of his shaft.

The effect of the stinging horseradish in her rectum was much more immediate and dramatic. Alice started screaming, gagged though she was by Wren's cock, and thrashing around like a fish on a hook. Instead of putting off my cousins it seemed to encourage them and they started humping away at both ends. They roughly spit-roasted Alice like a piece of fuck-meat. With the precision of a practiced team they built a rhythm. As one fucked forward -- into mouth or arse -- he forced Alice onto his brother's cock. They even 'high-fived' each other over her sweating back as they ruthlessly used her.

I could sense Kat's barely restrained passion as she stood at my side, now not even pretending not to watch. Her pent up lust was like some sort of aura -- resonating, radiating out from her. You couldn't see it or hear it - but you could feel it. I was surprised small items of furniture weren't moving around in sympathetic vibration.

I turned her gently towards me with the slightest pressure on her hip. I looked up at her as I raised the front of her uniform skirt. I saw her lovely full lips trembling and an instant blush flashed across her face. She knew what was going to be revealed in a second and the realisation was a cause of great shame to her. 

I glanced down and saw the wetness that has soaked her thighs. The 'girdle' might prevent Kat from pleasuring herself but it was totally incapable of holding back the copious excitement she was experiencing. Her pale thighs glistened with cunt juice in the light of the candles on the table and I felt my breath rasp in a throat that suddenly felt restricted.

I tore my gaze away to try and compose my emotions. I spotted the bowl of strawberries on the table and, instantly inspired, I picked one up. Slowly I ran it up the inside of Kat's thigh, feeling her shudder, liberally coating the ripe, red fruit in the sticky evidence of her lust. I looked up at her and our eyes locked. At this point in time she could no more look away than she could fly away.

Very slowly and very deliberately I bit into the pulp of the fruit, without taking my eyes off her. As the flavours filled my mouth I saw her eyelids flutter and close and the tiniest, most erotic moan escaped from her lips. For a moment I thought she was actually going to faint dead away. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked straight at me again. I groped on the table for another strawberry without looking away -- I dared not break the connection created by our eyes. Another strawberry slid slowly and slickly up her thigh. I held it aloft and motioned to her with the slightest crook of my finger. My heart nearly stopped as she instantly divined my intentions and complied with them instantly. She lowered her head and bit into the plump, red, cunt-soaked fruit.

Close to my ear I heard her breath catch in her throat; in front of my face I saw the crimson flush flare across her face and breast. I raised my hand and grabbed her elbow, fearful that she would fall because she was trembling so much. Amazement gripped me, there could be no mistake. Without being touched or physically stimulated this amazing creature had just had a shuddering orgasm.

At that instant my attention was dragged away from Kat by the increasing noise made by the other three players in our sexual drama. Wren withdrew his shaft from Alice's tortured mouth and stood up. With his cock no longer blocking her throat I could hear her hoarsely gasping for breath. With his trousers still around his ankles he shuffled round behind his brother; still busy fucking the French girl's arse. He slapped Adam on his buttock, which caused him to slow his thrusting.

In a moment of intuition I realised that I we were about to see Adam and Wren's famous 'party piece'. I had heard about it, but never witnessed it before. Barely able to watch, but unable to tear my gaze away I saw Wren part Adam's buttocks and spear his cock into his brother's arse. I watched with amazement as he slid in easily. I couldn't tell if it was Alice's saliva on Wren's cock, or the receptiveness of Adam's rectum that was the reason. All I knew was that after the briefest pause Wren start to hammer his brother's arse, which had the effect of shoving Adam deeper into Alice. Within a few strokes her face was pressed into the floor and she grunted under the double assault of two cocks.

In the middle of Alice and his brother, Adam was soon shouting almost incoherently as he gave and took pleasure at the same time. Wren was panting and digging his fingernails into the buttocks of his brother as his orgasm began to build up into an unstoppable wave, ready to crash.

Alice was just their fuck-meat and they weren't bothered how she fared -- she was just their unwilling receptacle for cum. I saw Wren shudder and empty his balls into his brother's bowels. This seemed to be a trigger for Adam who pumped her arse full of his seed a moment later. 

I risked a glance at Kat, who had recovered from her orgasm, although she was still as unsteady on her trembling legs as a newborn foal. I was fascinated to see that she was engrossed by the debauchery she was witnessing -- eyes wide, licking her lips.

Wren was the first to disengage, standing and casually pulling up his trousers -- as if nothing unusual had happened. Adam merely rolled off Alice, flopping on the floor, arms and legs outspread like a starfish on a beach.

Alice, free of the double assault of my cousins foolishly let fly with a torrent of insults in gutter French, complaining about how her arse is burning. Wren bent over and grabbed a handful of her hair to pull her half upright before slapping her face, without emotion, forehand then backhand. The girl slumped to the floor, sobbing.

I felt the evening poised on a knife-edge. If Wren turned nasty his cruelty could spoil a scene. It occasionally had its place -- but I felt that tonight was not that place. I needed to distract him and I was suddenly struck with the desire to test Kat, to find her limits and push her beyond them.

I snapped, "Kat!" and saw her jump, watching me now, waiting for my command.

"Thoroughly clean Alice....use your tongue."

Without consciously thinking about it, my breathings stopped; and I waited for Kat's reaction.



Tuition Ch. 03



I snapped, "Kat!" and saw her jump, watching me now, waiting for my command.

"Thoroughly clean Alice....use your tongue."

Without consciously thinking about it, my breathings stops; and I wait for Kat's reaction.

~~~Kat~~~

Huh?

I swear that was my most coherent thought as his words permeated the thick fog of hedonistic lust that filled the room and his meaning sank into my consciousness. Not one of my brightest moments for sure, but we are all entitled to at least one of those moments every so often, when the least expected thing in the world is suddenly there in front of you. His words sank claws into my brain, his command dragging me from the almost lethargic state my orgasm had dropped me into, and left me wide awake. And wanting.

I glanced over towards Alice, now kneeling beside Wren's chair and wiping her eyes furiously with the backs of her hands as a flurry of tears broke free. It wasn't pain that made her weep...it was her temper and right now it was flaring almost out of control. Her cheeks were flushed red and purple in places I had seen him strike, but even now before my eyes, the livid marks were fading. I began to move, merely the barest shift in my weight, a tensing in the muscles of my legs before he stopped me. His hand tight around my wrist as he ceased my miniscule movement with a tug that only we knew was happening. I looked down, my lashes almost brushing against my cheeks as a warm blush suffused my skin in mild mortification. It was unsettling to realize how swiftly I had already done something wrong.

I lifted my lashes only slightly, just enough to see him sitting there, almost a bemused smile teasing even as his expression remained fearsome. He awaited my answer. Even though in body, in moving, in direction and knowledge of destination I had confirmed I would do as commanded...I had not answered him...

I rectified my mistake. "Yes Master." I whispered, yet it seemed loud to my ears. I felt him release me, watched him sink back into his grand chair and reach for a strawberry. 

My god. I could feel my pussy clench around nothing -- out of my peripheral vision as I walked to Alice -- I saw him savor the fruit.

I knelt beside her, smoothing her hair back from her face as she began to whisper her insults, her rage, and her accusations. She had heard his command, she hated him, and she didn't want to play anymore. I was certain only I could hear her, her voice was so low as I leant closer, but the dark look I saw from Wren over Alice's shoulder as he quietly watched us clued me in to the fact that his hearing was in no way impaired. She told me, she was quitting, she was leaving this instant, she was changing into proper clothes and leaving this silliness behind her. She told me she wasn't going to kiss me, she growled even as her lips met mine in a swift trembling sweep that even I was unsure had happened.

Heeding the burning I could feel in the back of my head from his gaze, I tentatively reached out my tongue towards her skin. I began with her tears and ended each sweep of my tongue over her closed eyelashes. This was a helluva difference to licking wine from a damn table, and it took me a moment to recover before I tasted her skin again. It was not just her tears that marred her cheeks; it was a taste of Adam that added to her flavor. I shuddered, felt my confidence waver. I'd never done this before, never kissed another woman, never tasted a guy's dried semen, had never wantonly stared at the weirdest three-some I had ever -- never -- seen. Now I was here, on a floor I polished daily, the reflection in its almost black speckled beauty showing the smooth skin of Alice's thighs where she had collapsed to the floor, the fluids leaking from her body even as I licked more of it from her face and softly kissed pink swollen lips. I could see Adam, his body still prone in his post-orgasmic bliss yet his eyes were intent, alive and so very more alert than his pose suggested. He watched with an intensity that was almost frightening, that is, until I caught sight of his brother. I was barely inches from him, his heavily booted foot rested close to where my feet were tucked beneath my arse, his long leg stretched out as he too rested back in his chair as though nothing out of the ordinary other than dinner and a little light entertainment had graced this room tonight. But his eyes...

They were darker than the floor I was sat on, and gleamed just as brightly.

I closed my eyes, my hair fell forward some escaping from the clasp and shielded me for a moment. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I fought back the feeling of panic that now raced through me. Why the hell was I here? Why was I doing this? What the fuck made me want to...hell almost yearn to continue? I knew I was panting quietly, my breath coming in painful little gulps as I fought the uncertainty. I opened my eyes again and was surprised Alice hadn't shifted much from the moment our lips had met, her eyes were closed too, her tears had stopped and her mouth was parted. She looked -- well, women are not my thing, or at least I didn't think they were -- beautiful, her skin looked like it burned, but not painfully. Much like the pleasant burn, the ache I had felt when the hard strokes of the paddle had met my skin. I licked her face slowly again, savoring the unusual taste of her angry tears and Adam once again.

I felt the pain in my chest lessen, as though the chord that had been tightening in my panic and uncertainty relaxed a little, giving me a little more freedom. I wanted to...do this...I had watched them fuck her with abandon, I had watched them use her for their pleasures and somewhere in the back of my mind I had placed myself in her position while I watched. It was unnerving how the sight of it had affected me...but my body's reaction could not lie.

Aware of the eyes on me, I mentally shut out the two in my peripheral vision but could not bring myself to block out the third behind me as I pushed Alice back with gentle hands and gave in to my own curiosity.

My hands were on her hips over the now creased fabric of her uniform, her tight perky breasts had long since escaped from their meager confines and protruded from the lace, the material actually pushing them higher up. I let my tongue trace the path of Adam's cum down over the bared skin towards her nipples and I felt Alice shudder against me. Her nipples puckered as I exhaled near to them and Alice gasped quietly when I finally licked them, slowly drawing them into the heat of my mouth. It sent tremors of longing through my own body when I looked up at her and saw her biting that pink lower lip between her teeth, her lashes fluttering against her cheek as her breath became deeper - her breasts began to lift towards my mouth. My lips curved into a small private smile -- I was doing this to her -- I was wringing shudders from her body with each pass of my tongue and lips over her heated skin, and the thrill I felt from that was nothing short of wicked.

Allowing my hands to move of their own accord, I watched their path almost absentmindedly as they smoothed over the tops of her thighs before pushing the skirt of her uniform up and over her hips. My thumbs rubbed slow circles over her skin before I dipped my head and touched my lips to her almost entirely smooth cunt. Her short curls were damp, sticky and scented with both arousal and everything else and I knew I wanted to taste it. Even without the command...the curiosity was there. I later pondered what my life would have been like if I had never taken this job. Would I never have known the shivering rush of delight and perversion and how they merged and intermingled with one another? I would never have experienced anything like last night, would never have yearned for a brutality that I had not even known wished to be experienced within me or wish to experience again. Would never have been licking copious combined fluids from a French maid's cunt and arse and actually been feeling an odd sense of thrill and exquisite erotic tremors. I wondered too, whether it would have found me in the end...this curiosity...and wondered if I would ever understand it.

I was brought back to reality by the sensation of warm fingers tickling up my leg, my eyes opened and through the escaped waves of my hair I caught sight of Adam now leaning on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he perused us almost lazily. Although the cock protruding from his still unzipped tailored trousers was anything but lethargic. Its fat head glistened with new pre-cum, and his shaft was still coated with the horseradish sauce. I winced mentally -- it had to be hurting both of them. I was tasting it, my tongue was on fire with both the scent of Alice, and the mixture of mustard, vinegar and grated horseradish, I moaned softly before I could prevent the sound's escape. It was intense, unusual, and as my tongue lapped slowly up from her arse to her cunt, I swallowed what I could before the fingers on my leg could tease me further. I squirmed minutely, knowing that if he reached further towards my imprisoned pussy he would find what the Earl had. It didn't sit well with me...him knowing. It was embarrassment tenfold; this depravity, unsettling and new -- I surmised 'new' was technically the most important word in my thoughts just as Alice moaned beneath my tongue.

As soon as I had that thought, his fingers disappeared, and I felt them tangle in my hair and roughly lift my head from Alice and I squeaked with the sudden searing pain. A warm body appeared at my back, a face beside my own as it growled against my ear and I saw Wren missing from his seat. His grip was as tight as his brother's, almost at my scalp and he pulled me high enough that my hands were no use in supporting me and easing the pain. His voice was dark, demanding and filled with an almost unnatural fury as he 'tsked' by my ear and I felt the backs of Adam's fingers make use of my incapacity and run up between my thighs.

"You were not told to pleasure her. You were told to clean her." He shook me slightly, eliciting a whimper that I only just managed to keep behind my lips. Was he waiting for a response...but what did I call him? Was he master? No...somehow I knew he wasn't. He was Sir...wasn't he? The uncertainty came back just as Adam chuckled darkly and his fingers came away with more proof of my arousal. It made my thighs itch, slick and smooth it was torturous now I only had that and Wren's dark gaze beside my head to focus on. I wanted to squeeze my thighs together and moan, wanted to somehow press the front of this damn girdle hard against my clit, but knew especially now that it would do no good. I was slick, I was soaked, and it coated my thighs and cushioned my clit in a way that made it agonizing because it meant I couldn't find any source of friction. I was too well lubricated. It dawned on me just how this virgin's girdle was meant to work and I felt both frustrated fury and a begrudging appreciation for the contraption simultaneously.

My scalp started to go numb and I realized dimly that my hands were resting on Wren's, the muscles in my arms tense to try and take my weight. My legs could not move as his leg was pressed up hard against my rear and I feared any movement of my hips would only increase the torment between my thighs as well as push me closer to the hard bulge I could feel against the bare skin of my leg. Though it had only been a few seconds since his warning, it felt like a lifetime with only one breath before he released me and my knees connected with the floor once again. I resisted the urge to massage my scalp and instead focused on that numb ache rather than the furious one between my legs.

"Ah good, the brandy." His voice -- suddenly so normal -- was a shock to my system as I felt Wren's heat and hardness move away and seat himself in front of us once more as though nothing had happened when Mr. Barton deposited the silver tray in before them. I saw Adam however -- his fingers still glistening with my juice -- smile first as he caught my eye before licking them clean and simultaneously push his hard cock back into the confines of his trousers. A low growl reached my ears from behind me and Adam's gaze left mine immediately. I didn't have to look to know from who the sound had originated, the deep rumble could only belong to him. I absently wondered whether he knew it was the same sound he made before he came last night. Adam leisurely brought himself to standing, stretching out, before returning his chair to its correct position at the table and landing in it with as little grace as possible. The brothers sat at apparent ease and reached to pour themselves large glasses of the amber liquid, yet there was something that lurked there that made me want to cringe from them both and move closer to Him -- a certain cold barbarity that I could sense beneath the surface. It had been there in Adam's smile...and it had existed in Wren's eyes. It was something I did not want to bring down upon myself.

Their conversation sprang into life over mundane everyday things and I found myself rigid and unable to move. Crouched over Alice as I was, my hands now rested against the floor, my knees were slightly apart and I was pretty much on all-fours on display to the Earl. Granted, I was shielded by this wicked creation locked about my hips, yet I felt I may as well have been naked. I literally felt the moment his eyes left my prone form and focused on his two conversing cousins, but there was no relief...and I didn't dare bring it back to me by moving. Alice shot half-hearted daggers and pouted at me from her position spread open beneath me, resting her open knees lightly on my arms to give me something to lean against if I needed it -- or knock me over so my face would meet with her cunt once more -- I never found out which one. Idly I was wondering whether my order to clean Alice 'thoroughly' extended to the small puddle on the polished floor beneath her, but his voice cut through my thoughts and dismissed us with the order to clear the table and the mess.

I stood on shaky legs, and although my acquiescence was still quiet, barely above a whisper, it was more immediate than before. I began to extend my hand to help Alice up but paused at the look on Wren's face. In the millisecond I dared allow my gaze to connect directly with his, I felt a tremor -- not delicious in the slightest -- race through me. There were things in that black look that I should not delve into. The warning was clear. Leaving Alice to stand of her own accord, I know it afforded the brothers a decent flash of both her cunt and her arse as she too attempted to rise on unsteady limbs. She had barely moved an inch before the Earl's voice caught my attention and I stopped reaching for the first of the plates.

"You missed a bit."

I glanced up slowly; I could feel myself twitch as I thought about having to get down on the floor once more and the uncomfortable lack of pressure yet silky teasing my clit would receive again, but his next words were a minor relief.

"Miss Rousseau, I think you should taste yourself, clean the patch on my floor you have marred immediately. Miss Soren, continue with the plates."

I nodded my head and obeyed -- gathering the plates with hands that shook when Alice gave me a truly irritated glare -- before she knelt once more, arse in the air and grimaced at what awaited her. Now cold and mixed with the taste of polish, I almost grimaced with her. Escaping to the kitchens with the plates, Mrs. Hiddleton was there before me, a flustered look upon her face which I couldn't comprehend until I saw Barton's hand stroking one side of her voluptuous bosom, the yellow of his fingers stark against the pristine white of her apron making it seem more vulgar even than some of what I had just witnessed. I ignored them as I put the dishes aside and tried not to smile as the rather nice woman tried to hold a normal conversation with me. I made my excuses to hurry though and went about my task in a distant haze. When I collected the last of the cutlery and lifted the tablecloth it was to find that as Alice licked the floor -- a floor which had long since run out of fluid to offer her tongue -- Adam was absently fingering her cunt and arse simultaneously with his index finger and pinky while sipping brandy from a crystal glass in between the conversation.

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen.

"Retire to your room Miss Soren. We have no further need of you tonight." I nodded and softly agreed before leaving the cloth and cutlery in the kitchen and fleeing to the quiet of my room to escape the piercing scream of Alice's release. In my haste, I missed the look he had cast his housekeeper and it was only a few moments before I opened my door to her smirking face. 

~~~

At 7, she had finished her task and I was about as mortified as I thought I could get. I had always kept myself neatly trimmed, but apparently in this household, bare and smooth was the way of it. Armed with a bowel of hot water and an antiquated blade, I had endured her steady hand and was left with a sensitivity that was mind blowing. Every millimeter of skin surrounding my pussy tingled and I ached. As she reached for the girdle, I realized I needed the bathroom. I was foolish to have hoped for privacy. I now had a newer horizon for embarrassment, and having a fifty-something-ish woman watch you pee after shaving your cunt was that horizon. I almost dreaded to think what could trump that.

By 10, I had watched two of the saddest movies I could find in my pitiful collection on my laptop and cursed at the fact my clit was now throbbing so much I couldn't focus on the dying cast and their anguish. It was actually grating on my nerves how they lolled about in their grief. I briefly considered selecting the one film resembling porn I had downloaded but after the past twenty-four hours, the double-penetration and mild cock sucking seemed tame in comparison to what occurred here.

By midnight, I had wrapped my sheets around my body so tightly that my left leg had gone to sleep in my vain, half-conscious attempt of relieving my body against the material. No chance of that. I groaned when I heard Alice's door close softly in the night and truly didn't know whether to feel sorry for the girl who seemed to be the brother's ideal playmate for skull-fucking, or jealous she at least had been able to come. Had he fucked her? I shook my head at that unbidden thought and wondered why I would care. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, the covers moving over my breasts and drawing another moan from my lips. My nipples stood proud from my breasts, puckered tightly and pink, it almost hurt to touch them. I imagined Alice in my place on the floor from that evening, her tongue licking my body, her mouth closing around each rigid bud and drawing them into the heat of her mouth...

By 3, I was moaning against my pillow as denial and vivid imagination tormented me more than touch ever could.

By 5 I had fallen into an exhausted sleep plagued with dreams of many hands, mouths and tongues setting off pinpricks of fire across my skin. A cool breeze and lapping water at my sides was in stunning contrast and only sought to make my body tighten and writhe. I felt my head be brought beneath the water and my lips kissed until my lungs burned with lack of air, I felt the girdle be removed and a cool tongue lap at the heat between my legs and I felt my entire form soar as my heart beat faster and my pussy clamped down on the tongue invading it.

It was at 6 my dream broke with the sound of my alarm and my fury filled growl.

~~~

"Ok, tell me. What is going on in there?" My sister sipped her coffee and I squirmed a little in my seat. "Who is he? The stable-boy...the Lord of the manor." 




Tuition Ch. 03



She laughed, nicely though -- she wasn't a bitch -- she was bringing up my longtime love of romance novels and I wasn't going to ruin her imagination by telling her it wasn't the stable lad amongst sweet smelling hay but instead was the Earl himself, releasing himself over my arse and pussy after paddling my bare behind while his relatives watched. Some things were best left unsaid. The twinge of concern I thought I saw in her eyes as she wondered if it was him was too fleeting to hold my attention, but later I would wonder if Sarah actually knew what went on behind Shorncliffe doors.

"Just give me the damn box." I smiled, grabbing the small carrier bag off of her and checking she had brought me enough. Sure enough there was one full strip and an extra week just to be sure. "Thanks."

"So, no details?" Sarah was older than me by approximately nine months and barely more, and where I was -- had been -- rather introvert, quiet and shy, she was loud and outrageous and had lost her virginity the day she turned sixteen and was legally allowed to leave home and throw it at someone. She wasn't a slut by any means; she just didn't limit herself to the shackles of what she deemed 'the prison of a relationship'. I didn't know why I didn't just tell her what was going on, not jealousy that she would thrive in such a situation or anything -- just that, well it was nice to have something to myself. But I think mostly, it was because she thought she knew me so well and if I had told her the truth of the last few days and all that had occurred, she would never believe that it had been something I had wanted. Let alone begged for.

'You beg so prettily...' His remembered words made me squirm in my seat.

"You sure you don't want a coffee?" Sarah asked, motioning to the millions of selections behind her that I would usually have had at least four of by now.

"No, I'm fine thanks." I did not want to have to explain to her four coffees later why I needed to use the bathroom but had to 'just pop back up the road to my work to go'. That was something I could easily list amongst the things I couldn't tell her at the moment. Mary and her key released me for long enough to shower and perform other necessities -- by far the most mortifying ramifications of wearing the girdle -- but all too soon I was secured back into it and she left with another of her smirks as I got ready to come meet Sarah.

'Yeah sis, its technically a demonic chastity belt, except the demonic part is that now I know what I'm missing and I swear the thing has a mind of its own and is making me want to come on purpose...oh and the main housekeeper at work has the key for it.'  

It wouldn't go down well.

I groaned mentally as my aroused mind thought of things that would...and then felt amused at my own sense of humor.

"How is she?" I asked, before I could think better of it. Despite the fact she was a vicious hell beast, I did worry for her now I was no longer under the same roof.

"Oh, don't get me started." Sarah groaned and took another sip of her drink. "She left a very long message on my answering machine alternating between praising me and ranting at me. She wants to know where you are, I told her you were keeping yourself busy with work and would be in touch when you had the chance."

I was lost for a moment in my own thoughts and Sarah knew me well enough to change the subject. 

"So how long before you have time off for good behavior?" Sarah asked, slipping a mocha flake as I envied her drink with my eyes.

"I actually have tomorrow night off." Hopefully, I amended mentally. I was not sure now whether the Earl being back affected our pre-booked time off. "It might change..."

"...do you fancy the three D's?" She asked with a smile.

"Ah, drinking, dancing and debauchery -- on your part at least -- I don't see why not." I smiled at her mock-wounded look.

"Since you have had your proverbial cherry popped however, I hope I can interest you in a little sport at the club." Sarah snickered. "Its not serious is it?"

"No...it's not serious." And yet it was, but in an entirely different understanding of the word and was not to be confused.

"Good! Let me know once you have it confirmed." Sarah drained her mug and licked her lips to rid herself of that cocoa look that usually came with a mocha flake grande and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I've got to be off, am doing the late shift tonight instead of Cheryl so I can have tomorrow night out with you...so don't disappoint your big sister and make sure you are really persuasive if your boss tries to change your time off."

As I bid her farewell, my own dry sense of humor doubted Sarah's idea of persuasive would be quite the same as his. I had no doubt I was not going out tomorrow night, the Earl's return had no doubt changed it. Glancing at the town clock, I squinted at it in the glare of the sun, I had an hour and a half before I was due to begin, but as I looked up the wooded land towards the big house on the hill, I was struck with a deep sense of foreboding.

Indeed...I sometimes hate it when I'm right. 

I used to believe the St Andrew's Cross was merely the flag of my homeland -- Until the Seventh Earl of Shorncliffe strapped me to it.

~~~

"It is entirely out of the question."

To say I felt peeved would be an understatement; various other words crossed my mind before they swiftly turned into mental insults towards Mary and her smug expression even as I remained silent. I was just glad I hadn't gotten my hopes up about going out. I got myself under control swiftly, it did not bear thinking about what He might do if I flattened his housekeeper in a temper tantrum -- but after the night I had experienced, lain in my small bed and being tormented by my own imagination -- I wasn't currently the most rational and calm-headed person in the world and the thought was damn appealing.

"I have not taken any other leave..." And I had it booked...I finished in my head because already she was shaking her head and her face was growing splotchy. A sign I had begun to associate with her anger by now.

"No." Mary growled, picking up the printed pages and frowning. "Mrs. Hiddleton, take Mr. Barton's car and go into town and collect these. These ones are to be chilled, but leave these ones out when you get back so they will be at the right temperature."

I barely heard Mrs. Hiddleton's reply. I knew this was not going to happen. I wasn't sure which was worse...arguing with Mary more about it...or dealing with my sister. Turning, I took new rags and cloths from the cupboard and prepared my tray before I left to go upstairs and let Sarah know.

"Miss Soren," Mary waited for me to turn. "There is to be a function here tonight and these occasions continue on until the guests leave tomorrow afternoon. We cannot spare you; the house will have to be put to rights tomorrow evening. I have already informed Alice and I expect you both to be turned out well and punctual coming to the kitchens." She rummaged through different sections of the kitchen all the while checking things off of her list as she spoke. "I have brought in extra help for the night, and you and Alice are assigned to deal with the buffet."

"Yes Mary." I replied, suddenly worried as to just how many people were coming to dinner. To say our uniforms were revealing was a little like the old saying of the pope being Catholic, but strangely in the last 36 hours I had almost forgotten I was wearing it. The thought of there being strangers in the house, new eyes roaming my flesh was mightily unsettling -- and yet not. My heart didn't know whether to cease beating entirely, or race furiously and was swiftly and almost painfully alternating between the two as I ascended and headed for my room. 

"I'm sorry Sarah, no...he has a function...Yes, very last minute I know, but there isn't really anything I can do about it..." I shrugged out of my denim skirt and folded it onto my chair. Getting changed whilst on the phone was not the easiest of things, and I had dropped the phone twice trying to shuck off my shirt, but Sarah's rant was mildly predictable, so I knew I hadn't missed much. "No, don't come round and speak with him, It wouldn't do any good...Yeah, I know, its been a long time since we went out...But look at it this way, I'm finished here in little under a month and we can make up for it then..." Unsnapping my bra, I added it to the little pile of 'normal' before reaching for the black item that had become the daily dress-code since the Earl had arrived home with his cousins the day before yesterday. "Yes I promise...Love you too."

Putting my mobile down on the bed, I bent over to pull on the crotch-less knickers that were too indecent for words -- but that had sent an unmistakably curious shiver through me the first time I had naively tried them on, a feeling that was not diminished even now I was less than virginal -- but remembering I still had on the girdle, I put them back on my work shelf. I had not had an easy time selecting clothing to go visit my sister today, all my jeans showed off the very visible outline of the device and the short denim skirt was all I had that didn't. But my legs were frozen as a result. Leaning over, I tried to rub some life back into my chilly limbs and rid them off goose-bumps. I had reached my knees when I felt hardness pressed against the girdle and my arse a moment before rough and sweaty hands grabbed my breasts roughly. In a panic, I righted myself swiftly and felt the back of my head connect with the now swearing form of Mr. Barton.

His hollers were loud and damn well embarrassing for a grown man, but his growled threats were enough to make me cringe. I had reached for my towel off the radiator and hastily draped it over my front before my door opened further and Mary stood there furious.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

"The little bitch attacked me." Mr. Barton moved his hand and showed the small cut in his nose. I was certain he had pressed harder on it with his hand so he could smear more of his blood and make it look worse. I must have hit him fairly hard though, the back of my head was fairly throbbing.

"I did not!" I started to protest, but already Mary's hand had clamped down hard on my arm and with strength I would never have believed the older woman to possess, she pulled me from my room and began to storm down the corridor. When my shocked brain finally processed the direction, my feet faltered, my heels dug into the ground and I pulled hard against her grip. I looked behind me when I heard a door open softly and saw Alice's shocked face peer out -- I looked at her imploringly and then finally with disbelief as she shook her little head and closed the door once more. What I had expected her to do, I didn't know. As we rounded the corner, Mr. Barton strode past us and knocked hard on the heavy door. I didn't hear anyone bid him enter; my blood was a deafening roar in my ears and was dulling the sounds around me, my tired brain struggling to make sense of what was occurring. Mary pulled me further into the room, her vice-like grip painful as her nails dug into my arm. 

She dragged me past the shelves of books I had admired two nights previously, the place where I had pleasured myself to the sight of Alice screaming herself into oblivion whilst skewered by the two brother's cocks. Mary yanked me forward so hard after our descent of the stairs I lost my balance before she finally pushed me to the floor. My knees scraped against the rough old rug, my left hand clutched the red towel to my body as I knelt at the leg of the imposing dark oak desk, my own reflection shown before me in its highly polished sheen.

I vaguely heard conversation and the three different voices surrounding me. One smug. One infuriated, demanding and aggrieved. And finally, one calm -- deep -- dark and steady. And it was that one that broke through the numb shock and left me trembling. I didn't dare speak at that moment, even in defense of myself. Surely Barton could hear the warning undertone in his voice -- and yet still he continued in his accusations. Long moments passed me by, the words not registering, even though the tone and emotion behind each voice did. Mary was happy she could see me on the floor at his feet. Barton was playing up the pain of his injury -- I could hear it with his newly nasal-tinged voice filled with the need for vindication -- I even saw him in the desk's reflection covertly rearrange his crotch.

I became aware he was looking at me a moment before he addressed me.

"Do you have anything to say Miss Soren?"

I did...but I wasn't so sure I wanted to...my voice was shaky when it finally worked. "Mr. Barton startled me, it was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Yes Master." I vaguely heard Mr. Barton start up again behind me, but for that moment while he looked at me there was only me kneeling at his feet, there were only us in the room and everything else melted in with the various other background noises of his home. I could hear my own heartbeat above the cacophony as he looked over my shoulder and I waited to be addressed once more.

"Mr. Barton says you lured him with your provocative clothing and then attacked him."

"That is untrue." I didn't elaborate, just clutched the towel closer. I could feel Barton's gaze at my bare back and it was less than comforting, but then so was that of the Earl at my front. I didn't trust my voice not to crack.

"Look at me." I did. I prayed he would see my sincerity. The smile that curved the left side of his lips did nothing to ease my worries however. "Mary, take her through."

Take me through where? The thought was answered barely a moment later as Mary's rough grip fastened itself about my upper arm and yanked me to my feet. I saw Barton move ahead of her and open the door. I closed my eyes and let her lead me. It gave me a strange thrill to be back in this room -- one I was nowhere near ready to address in deep thought with myself yet -- even as its contents filled me with trepidation, appreciation and a fear of the unknown (and partially known -- I conceded after a swift mental re-run of the first time I had been here). I opened my eyes when she pulled me to a stop; my mouth gaped at the polished black wooden frame that dominated this floor space. From the other side, it could have been mistaken for one of those designer wall partitions from what I could see in the floor length mirror on the wall opposite, but there was no denying what this was from the side I was on. Two larger sections of wood supported it from the ceiling and from the floor and formed the base for the cross. It stood like a proud X in the corner furthest from the door, its many silver hooks glistening in the faint light pouring in from the library.

I saw the Earl in the mirror motion to Mary, and silently she turned from me briefly and returned with thick black cuffs that vaguely resembled padded restraints from the psychiatric ward my sister worked on. She reached to drag my towel from my hands, but by now I had a death grip on the material. 

I hadn't done anything wrong! Sure the vile little worm had a cut and a little blood but...

The sting of Mary's palm shocked me enough that I lessened my grip and she yanked the towel completely from me and threw it to Mr. Barton who then lifted it to his nose and savored it as though it held a perfume all of its own. I may have been embarrassed if it had actually been used, but still the thought of his nose anywhere near even something I had used to dry my naked body made bile rise in my throat. I moved to cover myself with my hands, but the action seemed pointless and I let my arms remain where they were and covered myself with a blush instead. Mary took hold of one of my hands, and attached the thick cuff, pulling the strap tight around my wrist to the point of discomfort before she repeated the action on the other side. When she got to knees and instructed me to lift my foot, I shifted my attention back to the cross until she had finished. I felt his eyes on me; it is hard to explain how that made me feel, knowing he was there, seeing my mostly naked body displayed in nothing but the virgin's girdle he had commanded I wear and the cuffs that now adorned me. Did he like what he saw? A thousand and one thoughts raced through my head in those few short minutes and all too quickly Mary had my front pressed against the unreasonably cold wood and was securing my wrists apart above my head. Her hands made swift work of the task, and I complied -- I wanted to comply -- I could feel him watching me, I watched him peruse me in the mirror. It was also then I caught sight of what Mr. Barton was up to. A long black coverlet had graced the small desk behind me close to where the Earl now sat, I had dismissed it in my limited chance to glance about the room, but I could not dismiss it now. Barton had lifted the material off to one side and revealed what it had hidden.

Long thin stretches of black leather, their lashes braded tightly and gleaming in the dim light, black metal handles held knotted cords and split leather straps. A dark bundle of leafless twigs sat off to the side beside what looked like an oak paddle. But it was the heavy length of beige with its glossy black handle that Barton fingered with delight.

My gaze shifted to his as my heart lurched. Barton walked towards me and in the mirror I could see his eyes glaze over, his yellowed tongue wetting his cracked lips. Mary had fastened one leg, and had almost finished the other, I was immobile -- trapped -- and desperately wanted to be free.

"Five strokes Mr. Barton." His voice moved like dark brandy, strong, smooth and sinful as he spoke. Even through my beginnings of panic I mused that no man should have such a voice. It was entirely unfair to the rest of the species. The imminence of my apparent punishment stirred me from my shocked disbelief and I battled against my dry mouth, I managed to form the vague beginnings of words just as the first swipe of the twisted rattan cane met with the flesh along the backs of my spread thighs and my words gave way to a scream. The second and third swipe came hot on the tail of one another and I almost thanked a god I didn't believe in that this might be over quickly. There was no sweet rush of strange pleasure to course through my system, no stinging heat or vicious throb that made me burn and almost ache for the next contact with my flesh and I felt the loss of this acutely.

There was a pause; I could actually feel welts rise one by one on my skin in painful little contractions that made me wince when I thought of the remaining two strokes. Resting my head against my outstretched arm, I was jolted when Mary slipped her hand through the cross from in front of me and ran her fingers over my breasts. It wasn't unpleasant; her cold fingers would have been a welcome relief on the backs of my thighs, though their presence in front of me was confusing. She rolled my nipples, coaxing them out with her chilled digits. I focused on her eyes, I had caught a glimpse of Barton moving closer behind me and was willing even to stare overlong at her natural smirk rather than think upon his next stroke or the fact that his trousers were rapidly tenting away from his body. I heard the dainty rattle of a delicate metal a moment before she engulfed my nipples in a pain so sharp I nearly passed out.

I was in no mental condition to deal with Barton's immediate swipe and swore an itinerary of expletives beneath a fully voiced scream as my body bucked from the blow and then suffered the pain in my nipples for the movement.

"Such language Miss Soren. Two more strokes after this one Barton."

"Aye Sir."

I barely felt the fifth stroke. I was still reeling from the shock of the last. The cool clamps imprisoned my small pink nipples in their tight clutches and forced me to keep my body as close to the cross as possible. When the sixth stroke fell, I felt it lash diagonally across the previous ones and it brought tears to my eyes. 




Tuition Ch. 03



But I didn't do anything... I whispered, though the sound barely left my lips. I felt my body jerk with the sensation and the answering pain in my nipples drew the first tear out. I felt the last stroke a little less than the others, and as I watched Barton in the mirror, I could only assume it was because the attention of his only functioning brain cell was directed a great deal further south than his head. I knew my eyes were conveying exactly what I was thinking at that moment, as well as a great deal more venom towards Barton, such that I had not known I even possessed.

"It would appear that Miss Soren did not enjoy your ministrations Barton. It makes me wonder whether she would ever have led you on as you accuse."

I heard Barton's reply, barely...but with its lewd references to things I had supposedly done in my attempts to lure him. I tried to block it out.

"Mary, the key." I heard him say, and Mary left my immediate view. "If you have succeeded in making her wet, I will believe that and allow you to continue undisturbed." My breath caught at the implications. "If not..."

His threat to Barton was evident. My tired body rejoiced in the fact that it had not betrayed me by answering to Barton's strokes and as I felt his hand brush my hip to reach the lock it calmed by racing heart. The girdle dropped to the floor and he hung the lock on one of the hooks sitting idle on the cross, awaiting their various uses. His fingers slipped between my thighs when he stepped up behind me, his sharply cut suit rubbed against my naked skin as his head leant down beside my own and grazed his warm lips ever so lightly over my bare shoulder.

"Dry as a bone..." He whispered.

My eyes closed, his heat, his proximity was overwhelming. I felt his fingers part me and winced when one tried to gain entrance. I was dry, I was cold and my pussy still ached from his wonderfully brutal plundering of my virginity -- and yet I wouldn't have stopped him for the world. A warm flush began to infuse my skin, beginning where his hand was idly playing. He didn't grind against me, he didn't move save for his hand and the feel of his chest shift at my back with each breath. His other hand moved around my waist, cool fingers came to rest beneath my breasts as he pulled my torso back slowly from the cross. The dainty chains lost their slack and I gasped as the tug of my nipples sent little waves of sensation through me. I felt my pussy answer his play and his fingers now smoothed my sudden wetness around me. He eased a finger deep just as he pulled my torso back once more and the combination brought forth a low moan from me which I felt reverberating right through to my toes.

I felt the restraints at my ankles released but I didn't move, nor did I look to see who had done it, but they must have left as the door shut and the light diminished further. I opened my eyes; his silhouette was there behind me in the mirror. I could see the movements of his fingers beneath the intersection of the cross, the chains at my nipples almost twinkling in the deeply inset lights in the ceiling. That couldn't be me in the reflection with him; my mind denied fervently, the wanton picture I was creating was hard to believe even as I watched it for myself. My head had rested back, almost against his shoulder; my breasts were thrust out in front of me at an angle with my arms stretched above my head as he moved me infinitesimally back and forth. His hands suddenly left my body and settled heavily over the risen welts of my thighs, my breath hissed quietly as he connected with the skin and stopped entirely when he exerted enough pressure to lift me off the ground.

He guided my feet to the base of the cross which lifted me higher, my breasts pressing hard against the wood with the sudden change of position. A single touch of his hand against my lower back was my reminder not to move as he made sure I was flush with the cross. I felt his presence leave me for the space of a breath before I saw him return in the mirror, my heart fluttering as I saw something dangling from his hand. The leather straps were long and there were many as he pulled their length slowly through his fingers. They swayed as he moved closer and came to a stop behind me an instant before he pulled them through the air and let them connect with my back.

My intake of breath was loud, but the following moan was louder. Each contact, each fine leather strand kissed my skin and sent a flare of heat through me that intensified with each stinging stroke. How could two touches be so different? Barton had chilled me to the bone, yet He set me on fire. Flames consumed me as his lashes licked my spine, my hips, and the swell of my arse. I felt the tails curve around my sides and torment the sides of my breasts...I arched slightly against the smooth wood, the building sensations were intense when they centered there, the tightening in my nipples and the heavy ache of my breasts made my pussy clench as wish for something to fill it.

I felt him move, his hand snaking around my throat -- his grip just short of cutting off my air -- as he settled at my back. The smooth, cool fabric of his crisp white shirt was a startling contrast to my burning flesh, the coarse hair on the front of his legs made me painfully aware of the risen welts as he drew my hips back from the cross and settled my arse against him. My arms were taut now at this new angle, the chains connecting my nipples to the cross were in tension and the curve of that wicked smile was present over my shoulder. I watched with in muted suspension, my breath not daring to be too deep lest his fingers tighten around my throat. 

He brought his free hand between my legs once more. I felt it then, not the smooth hardness of his cock, but the thick leather of the flogger as it played in the copious fluid he had coaxed from my body. I gasped as he speared me with it in one solid thrust, moving swiftly it in my recently de-virgined pussy. I felt my body clench tightly around the intrusion and moaned softly. The burn of my skin and the thickness of the handle were pushing me closer towards release. The look in his eyes was all that was stopping me. He was not ready to allow me to come.

He waited -- and I knew he waited -- until my entire form was within reach of the point of no return before he yanked the handle from my body and held it in front of my slightly parted lips and dazed vision.

"Clean it." He commanded and I complied. My own fluids were slick against my tongue, soft almost as I swallowed all that I could as he turned the handle around in front of me. When he brought it back between my legs and merged it with my body once more, I fought to remain still. He pulled it free with a wet sound that made my cheeks faintly blush before he released my neck and pushed my torso forward. The sudden release of tension on my nipples was deliciously sharp with the return of the flow of blood. My arse was still resting on his thighs and evidently this was where he wanted it. I felt him spread the wetness of my pussy between my cheeks and over my anus, pressing harder against the muscle with each pass of the handle. 

I could feel the edge of it, wider than the handle itself gain its entrance into me before my muscles contracted and he gave it a hard tug in response. I felt my body resist first its intrusion and then its escape. He pushed again and I felt the handle move with a slow building burn as it forced its way further through sensitive tissues until I could see only the long leather strands of the flogger dangle between my spread thighs. His palm suddenly slapped against the end in a heavy swipe that made me want to part my lips and scream as the end -- lodged so deeply inside of me -- slammed to the very end of available space, its wide edge giving a delicious pull of friction as it moved back into its original position.

I felt him then, the muscles in his thighs moved and bunched, his arm around my middle tensing, before he pulled me back hard and entered me in a single thrust. His hand secured itself over my mouth as he embedded himself -- impaling my pussy on his rigid cock even as his pelvic bone slammed simultaneously against the end of the flogger lodged deep within my arse. The double penetration brought tears to my eyes as my inexperienced body initially fought against the intrusions before finally accepting them. His hand was still fastened over my mouth, my breaths coming in quick little bursts through my nose as the multitude of sensations overtook me. I felt it all...one great burning flame that spanned my entire body...my legs, my back, my hips, nipples and breasts all added to the tightening in my belly and left me trembling in his hold. I could feel the thin barrier between his cock and the handle, feel each thick rod moving together...yet independently...rubbing against one another with each of his rough thrusts. It was becoming too much...and yet still not enough...as each moment drew me closer to an oblivion I was all too willing to embrace.

I opened my eyes to find his gaze already trained on me. His hard body rocked brutally against my own and yet, his breaths were even against my back, his lips still curved in that wicked smile that I wished to trace with my tongue. His hand moved slowly from my mouth -- over my chin -- and around my neck with a squeeze.

Oh fuck...

I begged...

...and he gave his permission.

My body tightened almost painfully around him the instant the growled command left his mouth. I bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood as every cell in my body erupted in pleasure; the slow burn becoming an inferno as it raced over my skin and drew me down into this sweet abyss -- this violent act of beauty -- that came with his sinful growl and the flood of his cum inside me. 

My thoughts became incoherent as I gasped for breath, I vaguely felt the straps around my wrists lessen and my limp body's weight dropped enough for the sudden yank on my nipples to pull me from the dark haze I had slipped into. He was still at my back as his hands pinned my wrists to the wood. I held fast as he released the swollen pink tips from their imprisonment and I was treated to the sharp agony once more of blood rushing back to fill them. They throbbed -- pins and needles of the worst kind -- and each throb triggered contractions in my pussy that made me shiver in the aftershock. I vaguely felt him pull from me, his arm scoring my welt-covered flesh as he lifted me with ease and deposited me on the black cotton coverlet. The table was hard but a welcome relief to my exhausted limbs. I watched him wipe his come-slick cock with my scarlet towel before he fastened his trousers and left the room with a single word.

Stay.

So there I stayed -- whipped, cum-soaked and sated -- with his flogger still embedded deeply within me.

It was long moments before the door opened once more, and through it stepped Alice -- a very sorry expression on her face, one that turned to near-horror when she came close enough to see my stripes. I still lay on my side, my entire entity at peace after spending so long so highly aroused. I could see the virgin's girdle still lying beside the cross where he had dropped it to the floor and wondered if he would command me to wear it once again.

"Kat?" Alice whispered, resting her hand on mine where it curled beside my cheek. "You are alright?"

I answered her with a "Oui" and a smile, my sense of humor at least still functioning where everything else seemed to have shut down. With a sigh, I blew a long wave away from tickling my nose and finally felt my heart return to something vaguely resembling normality.

"He has told me to help you to the shower room, you can stand oui? We have little time before the guests arrive."

"I think so." I stretched my legs and winced. This was going to be sore for quite some time. I cringed when I thought of pulling on my uniform for this evening. Not only would the welts on my legs be on show, but now without the girdle I had no option but the crotch-less knickers. I thought of the flogger and began to worry. "Yeah, just give me a hand."

Alice helped me to my feet and it was then I noticed the black silk robe in her hands around about the same time she noticed the black addition to my rear. The fact she said nothing surprised me, and I wondered whether she had finally realized that her mouth had been getting her into the trouble she so vehemently protested about. Slipping on the robe, one of Alice's Parisian favorites with its deep sheen and long length, I savored the feel of it against me. Letting Alice lead me, she drew me through a door I had not seen -- granted, both times I had been in here I had been distracted by the machinery and furniture dominating the room -- but still, I felt very unobservant.

Alice let me lean on her as we entered a long corridor, my bare feet padded lightly over the cool floor as I tried to measure my steps so the hem of the robe didn't rub against the backs of my thighs. I could stand the not-so-subtle burn the flogger had caused over my skin, but the sharp pinpricks that seared my thighs was something I wasn't ready for at that moment in time. Not whilst timidly walking with the heavy weight of the flogger buried inside me as its long strands caressed my calves - I almost came when I began to climb the stairs.

After the swiftest and most economical shower I could manage, Alice rubbed some cool cream over the backs of my legs. Her fingers were careful, but it made no difference, the burning intensified and it wasn't long until I had buried my head on her pillow and finally gave into a few tears.

"Thanks Alice." I whispered.

"C'est pas un problème, Kat." She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes -- those kept straying to my behind and its adornment. "Surely..."

She started, but she knew just as I did. He did not tell me I could remove it.

"Allons-y, we had better hurry." Alice gave me her hand and I scooted towards the edge of the bed and braced myself for the journey of various sensations that 'standing up' graced me with.

"I need my uniform." I looked up at Alice, still in a similar robe and frowned at her hesitant expression. "Alice...spill..."

"Um..."

~~~

Some things in life are sent to test you. They can test your patience; they can test your temper. They can challenge you to stretch your horizons, or even push you over every pre-set line your upbringing ever manufactured for you to follow.

Lying on a pure white cloth staring up through black lace covered eyes; I conceded this was one of those moments. Displayed for all, my body nude -- legs parted -- bent at the knee and tied with long black strips to the edges of the table to ensure I could not conceal the flogger and its current home from any of their perusal. And when a gentleman dipped a carrot stick into the sweet smelling sauce at my navel and nibbled it with a rumble of satisfaction as though this was normality, I realized there were more horizons -- more lines -- than I had previously ever known.



Tuition Ch. 04.5



I have been writing this series with a brilliant author - sacrificedangel. We disagreed on some aspects of the plot and the action - especially in Chapter 4. As I wrote a plot surprise occurred to me that seemed perfect at the time. It wasn't really something that either of us was turned on by or would have usually written about - it just became more and more obvious as I wrote.

My co-author didn't like it as much and as a result I agreed to take it out, to change this chapter. Now our writing arrangements have changed somewhat and I want to submit the original version of this chapter to see what people think.

If you are coming to this chapter first then I do suggest you go back and read the first 3 chapters first. They aren't all as long as this one and I believe it will be worth the effort. The story is very much character driven and I think you should get to know Kat and Bastian from the start, before you start this.

I hope to do more writing soon and try to finish the tale soon, although the ending may be different to what was originally envisaged.

Then maybe another chapter of 'Ill Met By Moonlight'?

*

"Damn it!" I hissed out loud "Damn it to hell", shouting now. After six attempts to do up my bowtie frustration got the better of me and I threw the doubly damned thing onto the bed. 

I'd been dressing in a 'penguin suit' from even before I got my first bespoke version at the age of fourteen - made for me by Henry Poole's in Saville Row. My father had taught me how to tie the 'thistle knot' and I'd never had any problems with it after the first few times. But now it seemed to be beyond me. This, coming on top of the difficulties I'd suddenly discovered with threading my cuff-links and shirt studs, was disturbing. What was wrong with me?

At that point Barton rapped on my dressing room door and entered with my usual aperitif. Taking in the scene in an instant he put down the tray and fastened the bowtie for me in a trice. I felt no gratitude; it just seemed another sign of weakness that I had to let him do this for me. And with him standing so close to me whilst performing this task I was more than usually conscious of his fetid breath and greasy hair.

And after this afternoon's incident with Miss Soren he was well and truly off my Christmas card list.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork with a small smile, before he caught my expression. He instantly understood from my face that, if looks could actually kill, he should be a blackened lump of dead meat. Dropping his head he departed as quickly as was seemly.

His arrival and abrupt departure served only to worsen my mood. Barton had many fine qualities but when they were weighed against his faults, the scales sometimes came very close to tipping against him -- never more so than right now. 

Distracted as I was I couldn't stop my mind wandering back specifically to this afternoon's scene with the new girl; and to the general subject of 'weakness'.

The evening before this had been a topic of discussion, with Adam and Wren, whilst my Delemain cognac had seemed to evaporate from the decanter. The cousins had been ribbing me about my new servant. They had suggested that I was too protective, too interested in her. They laughed and asked if I was "soft" on her. At first the baiting was relatively gentle. Their use of this word had, at least initially, a gentle, childish inference and I laughed off their gibes -- as if I would get soft about, or have "a crush" on, a servant?

But as the cognac consumption rose the word returned in a different, harder guise. Wren started to suggest that I was soft on her; in the sense of not disciplining her as I should. I didn't see this suggestion as at all humorous. For a man of my inclinations and standing this was dangerous talk. Wren knew it too. Amongst us this was nearly the equivalent of asking a stranger in a pub, "did you spill my pint?" Despite the smile on his lips and the bantering tone of voice I could see the cruelness in his eyes and the desire to hurt.

I can forgive my cousins many things, but this nearly went too far. Keeping my emotions under tight rein I told them I was going to bed -- and suggested they do the same. But when I did retire I found sleep elusive. 

Now, as I poured a glass of the champagne that Barton had left, I faced myself and answered my own questions. I realised that the reason my cousins had found it so easy to goad me about being "soft" was, that I feared they were right. I feared the weakness that this revealed if it were true. The tension this dilemma had generated was giving me a headache from grinding my teeth. I suddenly realized that it was also the source of the slight tremor in my hands that had made getting dressed so frustrating.

Now that I was being honest with myself I realized it explained something else. I better understood my anger with Barton. I knew that his story about the girl attacking him was patently absurd. But once he had made the accusation I had felt that I had to act. I had to maintain the discipline of the hierarchy within my household. 

But now I wondered if I had over-reacted in order to prove that I wasn't "soft" on Kat. I knew the news of her punishment would spread to my cousins and I hoped it would remove any excuse for more "jokes".

Then a smile crossed my lips and my spirits lifted. Recalling the punishment of the girl inevitably lead me to think about her response to it. The way she had reacted to my lashes, and not to Barton's, had been exquisite. She had borne her unfair punishment like some mediaeval "trial by ordeal" -- and been proven innocent.

I hadn't intended to fuck her, just punish her. But I had been carried away by the eroticism of a true submissive, revealed by torment; blazing like metal tempered in a forge of pain

I took an H. Uppmann cigar from the humidor and stepped onto the balcony with my glass. I carefully went through the familiar, calming ritual, clipping the end and lighting it with a cedar match. I savoured the distinctive 'leather' taste of the smoke before sipping the fizz.

Looking out from this place always made me feel good revived my spirits if ever they flagged. This vantage point allowed me to see a fair part of the Shornecliffe grounds. The drive, lined with Scots Pines, snaked and sloped away to the road. But even on the other side of the road, to the horizon, was part of the estate. As always, unbidden, the expression, 'as far as the eye can see' rose in my mind.

My father had often brought me here, to share the view. He didn't say anything much at those times, he didn't need to. I knew what he was feeling and I shared those emotions, then as now. It was in our DNA

No matter how many times I saw this vista it never failed to me invigorate and awe me. My great-grandfather had planted those pines on either side of the drive, knowing that he would never see them grow to maturity; but at the same time knowing that one of his ancestors would appreciate the pains he had taken. It was that certitude, that foresight, the arrogance in believing we would still be here that left me most impressed. We, my family, knew the importance of having our roots deep in the landscape. And we knew the importance of leaving our mark. High on its hill, this house dominated the landscape in every direction. It stated in brick and stone, firmly but without fear of contradiction -- "here we stand and here we stay". Hic Nos Sto Quod Hic Nos Subsisto might be the family motto, but I was sure that the attitude existed and defined my family a long time before the words were coined to do the same

The noise of a car broke my reverie. I could hear an engine over-revving as it climbed the drive and see a cloud of dust rising. The exhaust noise betrayed a powerful sports car, driving too fast. Just the noise was enough to alert me to who was arriving. Seconds later an Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato fishtailed to a stop in the gravel before the front door and my spirits fell as my suspicions were confirmed. My sister had announced her arrival in her typical under-stated way.

I watched Barton scurry to open the door for her and then take her luggage as she entered the house. The Lady Bailey La Motte had arrived -- with capital A -- as she did everywhere. Then my spirits fell further when I saw a slim, young man get out of the passenger seat. Invitations to my parties were never 'plus 1'. Only those specifically invited were welcome. But my sister did not believe that any law, rule, convention or custom applied to her. She believed that she was entitled -- in every sense of the word. And she knew that I would not turn away her guest. She knew I would follow the rules of polite society that she so provocatively flouted.

My sister was three years younger than myself and the darling of the tabloid press. Her two ex-husbands had both been famous in their own right - and that would have been enough to keep her in the papers. But as 'Britain's Top Posh Totty' (© The Sun) she had become a 'brand'. Sister of the 'Reclusive Earl' (© The Daily Mail), she was a fashion icon and trendsetter. What she wore, sold out. Where she ate got booked out. If she did something is was seen as proof that it was 'trendy'. I almost snorted at even thinking the word. She was dangerously close to becoming a national treasure. Sometimes I felt that I was the only person who knew what an unmitigated, irredeemable, world class bitch she was.

I also knew that her arrival would coincide with a renewed argument about money. 

She used the old family surname -- La Motte, the one that probably prompted my father's interest in castles. But in her case it had resulted in a normal(ish) first name for her. Everyone called me 'Bastian' pronouncing it with two syllables and assuming it was short for Sebastian. I doubt there were five people in the world who knew it was spelt Bastion and should have three syllables.

I felt my headache pounding even worse and ground out my barely smoked cigar to go back inside, to find some pain killers and to continue getting ready. I had invited my sister out of courtesy, out of duty, hoping she wouldn't come; knowing she would. But she was here and the party would now be a different affair as a result; much more 'interesting'. Then I remembered that the Chinese curse an enemy by hoping that they 'live in interesting times'.

The invitation had stated '7.00 for 7.30' so I was in the ballroom by 6.45. I wanted to check all the arrangements and I knew that many guests would be early, eager to sample Shorncliffe's justly famed hospitality. I was also worried that uninvited guests might try to join us. 

Just recently the papers had become a real nuisance. They were rabidly and, to my mind, irrationally curious about me. My refusal to do any interviews seemed only to infuriate them and did nothing to lessen their interest. The last offer for a photo shoot 'at home with Bastian, Earl of Shroncliffe' had been over a million pounds; I hadn't even bothered to reply. This hadn't stopped them making up stories to fill their empty pages -- and the even emptier heads of their readers. But just recently the stories had contained too many grains of truth. And the paparazzi were apparently getting lucky in guessing where I was going, turning up to photograph me when I least wanted them about. I couldn't help wondering where they were getting their information from.

At the front door I chatted for a while with the beefy head of the security firm I had contracted for the night. We reviewed the arrangements for patrols through the grounds and checks at the door to ensure that only those invited made it through the portal. I reminded him about the prohibition of mobile phones and cameras

I knew the man, and his firm, to be efficient and discreet having used them in the past. But even then only he would be permitted into the house, and only in an emergency. The other guards would remain outside. Portable toilets had been installed to the side of the house and food would be provided for his staff in the summerhouse.

When I started to talk about camera phones for the third time I could see that he was on the verge of rolling his eyes. I felt a flash of anger, but bit down on it. My nervousness about the press was making me garrulous. I half laughed and shook my head.

"Sorry" I said brusquely. "You know your job -- I should let you get on with it." He nodded as I turned away in to the house, making my way to the ballroom.

When I entered the room I saw Barton, Mrs. Hiddleton and Mary deep in conversation. Mary broke away to approach me. She was my hostess for the evening and looked very different out of her dowdy daytime uniform. Her raven dark hair, released from its dowdy daytime bun, was swept back and loosely held in a chignon. Artfully applied make-up complimented her natural advantages, high cheek-bones and a wide generous mouth. Emeralds glittered at her ears and in the shadow of her décolletage -- mirroring her eyes. Obviously braless her breasts swayed enticingly under her silk couture gown. 

At that moment I couldn't stop warm memories from crowding into my mind as I watched her. This was the woman who had been my first lover, the one who taught me so much about the joys of sex -- straight and kinky. I realized with a jolt that she had basically been ever present in my life, that at every stage she had been there to give assistance, advice - and pleasure. I felt a little of the tension in me loosen in her presence.

She must have noticed the strange expression on my face because she smiled quizzically when she drew nearer. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and took her hand to kiss it. 

"You look ravishing Mary; ravishable might be more accurate actually." She smiled at my clumsy compliment, looking me straight in the eye. 

"You are looking pretty good yourself ....Bastian."

Taking on the role of hostess meant other roles changed. We had never discussed how things changed in these situations; we had just arrived at an arrangement that worked. We became equals, almost, for an evening. No 'Sirs' or 'Masters' when she was hostess Many of the guests tonight were friends of my father's and Mary had known many of them for more than thirty years. 'Known them' in several senses as she would have 'entertained' them over the years in the special Shorncliffe way. But now, in recognition of her unique status, Mary was not expected to accommodate the guests as other maids were. Long tradition dictated that whilst junior girls could refuse no request or order from the guests. (I trusted my friends and acquaintances enough to know that these would not be 'unreasonable'), Mary was free to pick and choose.

I waved away her compliment. "Are you happy with the arrangements?" I asked, suddenly business like.

She glanced around before summarizing. "The outside catering staff are in the kitchen and Mrs Hiddleton is supervising them. Naturally they won't be allowed in this room." she added. "Barton is looking after the bar." She couldn't stop the slight curl of her lip as she continued. "I'll try to make sure he doesn't sample his own wares too much."

I suppressed a smile and asked, "Did he manage all the equipment?" Mary acknowledged his competence in this area.

"Yes, the St Andrews cross is erected and a couple of 'sore horses' are scattered around." 

I smiled at the expression she used. The 'sore horses' were another fiendish invention of my father's. They looked a little like a carpenter's 'saw horse' but were padded and equipped with straps and buckles. Once someone was strapped down they would be helpless and exposed - at the mercy of whoever put them there. 

"We have to cater for all our guests little foibles." I reminded Mary. "I'm guessing that after a few drinks your friend, the Judge, will be confessing how 'bad' he's been and how much he deserves to be punished."

Mary laughed. "If...when he does I'll strap him to the 'sore horse' and give him the thrashing of his life." Then she frowned, "But if he starts going on about 'potty training' him, then he is going to be disappointed."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You can relax Mary. I had a polite word with him about that when I invited him." Then I added, "anything else?"

She frowned slightly. "With Miss Soren making such a fetching smorgasbord I think Miss Rousseau is going to be very busy."

I looked away from Mary. "Yes, Miss Soren, I had forgotten about her." I lied. When I glanced back at Mary her mocking smile made me realize how well she knew me.

I coughed and felt as I might even be blushing. "Don't let me keep you from your duties Mary" I suggested lamely. She nodded, still smiling, and turned and headed for the kitchen.

I glanced around and immediately noticed that Mary was right about 'Miss Rousseau'. As I watched she put down her tray of drinks and knelt, with just a hint of reluctance and disgust, before one elderly guest, the fly of his tuxedo trouser were already open. He fed his half-erect cock into her mouth and I watched as she bobbed her head efficiently enough. The old guy stroked her platinum curls gently as she sucked. I knew him to be a gentleman of the old school (as befitted an ex ambassador to France). I was gratified to see from his expression that he was pleased with my servant's efforts. 

I saw his thrusting increase in speed and saw Alice pull back slightly, starting to stroke his cock shaft. The man half-heartedly tried to hold her head but her hand did the trick, conjuring a spurt of semen that splashed on her chin before dripping onto her neck and breasts. I could see the slight look of disappointment on my guest's face, which he was too polite to let Alice see when she stood up and collected her tray.

I was not going to be so polite. She caught my eye and her face fell when I beckoned her over.

"Miss Rousseau?" I growled. She nodded; eyes wide. "Your job is to take care of my guests -- very good care of them. You will do whatever they ask and whilst doing it you will look and sound like you are loving it, do I make myself clear?" I waited till she nodded.

"If they want to come in your mouth you will let them and lap it up and say thank you. If they want to fuck your arse you will spread your hole open to make it easy for them. Nothing is to be refused my friends."

As I was speaking the girl was struggling to get a tissue out of the arm of her uniform, obviously with the intention of cleaning the sperm from her chin. She evidently wasn't getting the message.

I leant closer to her and hissed in her ear. "You aren't listening you empty headed slut. You've been told before that cum suits you. You will not clean yourself up."

"Now", I continued with extra menace in my voice, "unless you want to spend the night on the whipping cross, or serving as an extra pissoir in the men's room return to your duties and perform them properly."

I saw the shock in her face and knew she now understood what was required. Without another word I turned away. I knew where I wanted to go next, where I had wanted to go since I came into the room. But I could not allow anyone to think I was too interested. I was especially conscious that Mary might notice and I didn't want any more of her knowing smiles.

At the bar, Barton was dispensing drink - and greasy bonhomie - in almost equal measure. He saw me approaching and had a drink ready when I arrived.

"Your Laphroaig, Sir" he oozed. "The 40 year old for you Sir. I kept it by specially".

I sipped it, ice cubes tinkling and savoured the peat, before nodding my thanks to Barton. With the familiar pleasant burn of the whisky in the back of my throat, and the painkillers kicking in, my headache started to fade. For all his faults Barton had a genius for anticipating my needs. I knew he was an immense irritant to everyone else in the house but he knew which side his bread was buttered on and who paid his wages. He looked down on nearly everyone else in the house and took advantage of them whenever he could. But he looked after me wonderfully. And then there was his skill for staff recruitment.




Tuition Ch. 04.5



But at the same time I couldn't help thinking that if there really were an informant talking to the press, then Barton was the perfect candidate for the role.

Barton took in the growing throng in the ballroom and observed, "The new girl's getting an easy night Sir?" nodding in her direction. "Leaving the French tart to do all the work?"

His comment brought the subject of Miss Soren to the front of my mind. In truth it had never been far from it. Despite myself I glanced to the alcove at the other end of the room, to where portraits of my family hung, and a cluster of people surrounded a table

Then, glancing sideways I noticed Alice was currently sitting down on the job. Or to be more precise she was sitting down on the cock of a High Court judge and bouncing up and down on it with every evidence of enjoyment, occasionally squealing "il est si grand".

"Do you think so Barton? They each have their roles to perform -- as I have instructed them.

Barton immediately backtracked. "Of course Sir, you know best, of course." Then he paused and I could almost hear the cogs whirring as he added more whisky to my glass.

"Good stuff that Laphroaig, Sir. Your father's favourite, God rest his soul. Sort of a family tradition as it were, Sir." 

I wondered where he was going with this. "Yes it is Barton. And if I find you drinking it I'll have your scrotum for a tobacco pouch."

He flapped his hands and snorted, "Not me Sir, too strong for my tastes. A blend does me when I want a whisky........which isn't often of course Sir." He rushed to add.

I nearly choked on my drink.

"No, I understand it is a tradition that is dear to your heart. I know how important traditions are to you Sir. I know you don't like changes to the way things are done around here."

The pleading, whining tone in his voice had increased beyond the usual irritating volume and, puzzled at the reason for this, I turned my full attention to him and asked, 

"What are you on about man?"

He almost recoiled from me, but gathered himself to explain, "It's about.....about my summer.....bonus Sir."

Now all became clear and I almost gasped. Barton's 'bonus' was that I allowed him the pick of the summer staff for one night. I didn't think of it as a tradition, just a perk for doing a good job picking the girls. There was also an element of pity in my decision. I figured that with Barton's appearance and personal hygiene he didn't get much unless he paid for it - or the girl had no choice.

With a great effort I kept my face blank as I asked. "And if I gave you your bonus this year Barton, whom would you choose?"

His desperate glance towards the table in the portrait alcove tells me what I already knew. 

"Not Alice, Barton?" I ask. We both glance towards the French girl, who is now being fucked from behind by the judge whilst as the same time lapping between the thighs of the Headmistress from the local girl's school.

I saw the desperate need in his eyes as he shook his head. I can understand his desire, but at the same time the idea of what he wants disgusts me. Barton and Kat? Impossible! But it was something I had allowed before, so how could refuse him now? Because I felt differently about this girl? Because I was getting 'soft'?

"I understand what you are saying Barton." I told him. I could see he wanted more from me but I turned away before he began to beg.

Leaving him to stew I finally made my way to place that I have been drawn to all night -- like iron filings to a magnet. Staying away this long has taken a strong effort of will. But the attraction of Kat had finally pulled me into her orbit. Several other satellites are also circling. I saw Adam (but not Wren), a recently retired cabinet minister, a famous soap-opera actor (in casual clothes I noticed, a friend of Adam's) and several other guests admiring the tableau.

Kat was spread on white damask cloth, lying on her back, her knees bent but her feet resting on the table. In a strange way it looked like some kind of yoga position. She was lying back, straps around her wrists, and another set curling around her thighs above her knees, leaving the flogger obscenely protruding. I noticed that her previously rather overgrown pubic hair had been shaved smooth and wondered if Barton or Mary had made her comply with my preferences. It made the sight even more erotic as far as I was concerned. There were candelabra holding large candles of various sizes cast a soft, sensual light over the scene. Something about the setting made the girl look like she was an altar -- but was she a sacrifice or the host? On another small table nearby were various bits of equipment from my 'playroom', just in case the use of them should take my guest's fancy.

She looked good enough to eat by herself, but now she served as a table. Various delicacies adorned her body and the clustering guests picked at the dainties, occasionally dipping them into the chili sauce pooled in her navel. All the while they took liberties with her helpless body. Stroking, tweaking, fondling. With a lace blindfold around her eyes she couldn't tell who was touching her and she flinched slightly with each caress.

I knew that she couldn't see me, that she hadn't heard me, but as I moved round her bound body I could have sworn she turned her head towards me, her blindfolded eyes following me. At the foot of the table I could see my whip was still protruding from her arse, its strands dangling like an obscene tail. 

If anyone had thought Kat was in distress or unwilling, from my position they would have been reassured. The proof of her excitement was all too evident, wetness, slick and shining in the candlelight on her thighs and her brutally exposed pussy.

I grasped the handle of the whip and twisted it gently, forcing the end deeper into her. On the table Kat writhed in her bonds and moaned. 

Those watching took this as a sign to increase the depravity of their usage of the girl. One elderly woman smeared chocolate sauce on Kat's bullet hard nipples before licking it off. Others dipped crudités into her wet pussy and ate them with relish -- cunt relish. One trailed a blanched asparagus spear across her skin, raising goose-bumps. My maid mewled and sighed at each unseen assault

I watched the actor step away from Adam's side and move between Kat's legs. On the way he took a bunch of grapes and a bowl from a table and began to pluck them, one by one. Then he knelt down and began pushing the grapes delicately into Kat's pussy. 

From between her wide stretched thighs I heard the soap star order. "Don't let any drop out young lady." And I watched fascinated as they disappeared, hearing someone counting as each one went in. 

As the count reached '30' Kris, the actor, paused and licked his finger clean with obvious delight. Then he said.

"I don't think she can accommodate anymore, not without crushing them."

Kris stood and dipped his finger in the hot sauce in Kat's navel and smeared it liberally on her clitoris. I think we all held our breath for a few seconds until the chilli began to burn. Kat's writhing increased and her moans became cries. The distraction of the pain caused her to lose control and concentration and the inevitable happened. Kris, with perfect timing, used the bowl to catch the grapes, fishing out the last few from Kat's pussy with a crooked finger. 

He acknowledged a round of amused applause as he passed around the bowl so the audience could taste the result. He even popped one cunt slick grape into Kat's mouth, which she accepted blindly, gratefully.

The Headmistress, Daphne, accepted a grape and rolled the fruit around in her mouth.

"Doesn't she taste delicious?" She declared. "I want to try that sauce direct from the ...um.........source." 

Daphne looked nothing like your archetypal lesbian. She was petite and slim, clad in a tightly tailored, blue trouser suit. Perhaps only her severely bobbed grey/blonde hair was a clue to her orientation. But I knew from previous parties that she was a master of cunnilingius (or a mistress) and was proud of her abilities.

She took a cushion from a chair and dropped it on the floor between Kat's legs. Before she knelt down she announced to her helpless target, "I'm going to eat you out till you come like never before."

My brain swirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. This was the first time that anyone apart from me was going to have their fun with Kat - and I couldn't really quash strange feelings of jealousy. But my guests expected that the maids were available to use. Besides, Daphne wasn't going to fuck her. When someone with a cock wanted to use Kat I was going to have a whole other set of issues to deal with.

But at the same time I found the prospect fascinating. Kat might have played with Alice briefly the night before, but this was the first time she was going to get her pussy eaten by woman. Then I stopped my thoughts. As far as I knew this might the first time she'd ever had her pussy eaten.

Whatever the case, as soon as Daphne's talented tongue got to work, it became obvious that Kat loved having her pussy licked. The Headmistress gently lapped at the wet folds of my maid's cunt and slowly started working her way towards her clit. Almost instantly Kat was sighing and moaning, moving as much as the leather straps would allow, trying to manoeuvre the teasing tongue to where she wanted it, where see needed it. 

I'd seen Daphne torture girls with her tongue at previous parties, dragging it out, delaying, stopping, until the recipient was begging, literally screaming to be allowed to orgasm. But on this occasion she was not so cruel. She seemed to be hell-bent on making Kat cum as quickly and as hard as possible, almost immediately she started to concentrate on the hard, wet nub at the top of Kat's pink folds. Instantly the girl's breathing became more rapid; her constrained movements more urgent. It was obvious that an orgasm was only moments away.

Then Kat moaned again, but this time it was a moan of disappointment and I could see her mouth twisted with frustration. Daphne, evidently thinking she was being too rough, slowed down - and Kat began to sigh and moan again. But a cycle had begun which would be repeated. Kat wanted to cum, Daphne wanted to make her cum; but it just wasn't happening. The teacher would obviously bring the girl to the brink on orgasm, the plateau before the peak; only for her to seemingly slide back down again. It was obviously exceedingly frustrating for the both of them.

After about ten minutes Daphne stood up, accepting defeat. The lower half of her face glistened in Kat's juices and she grabbed a napkin from a table to wipe off the evidence of the maid's excitement. She looked at me and it seemed she was going to say something to me. 

Instead she shrugged and muttered, "I'm thirsty." And went off in search of a drink.

Prompted by her words I looked around for Alice. She came to my side promptly and I couldn't help but smile at the state she was in. Dried cum was stuck to her breasts, which were hanging out of her uniform. I guessed that she had given up trying to put them away. There was fresher sperm soaking her hair and her make up was smeared.

"Have you been looking after my guests Alice?"

She bobbed a tiny curtsey and nodded her head. "Oui Master."

"Tell me how" I asked. I saw the blank look on her face and prompted her. "What have they required you to do?"

She blushed slightly and dropped her eyes. "Some of your guests have wanted me to suck their cocks Sir" Then she added, with a slight moue of distaste, "Most of them wanted me to swallow their.......sperme? Their....cum?" She glanced at me briefly to check I understood.

I nodded. "How many?"

"I think four or five Sir"

"What else has been required of you Alice?"

"Of course most have wanted to fuck me." She looked a little proud as she announced this.

"Of course." I agreed. "How many - and where did they fuck you?"

She looked a little puzzled at my questions but I wasn't going to explain that the details excited me.

"A few fucked my....my....cunt", she stumbled over the unfamiliar English obscenity. "Maybe five did that. But most of them wanted to buggor me". Her accent made the word sound outrageously obscene. "My cul is so sore. I think maybe seven men have fucked my little hole." Then she looked puzzled and asked, "What is it with British men? All the they want is buggory. Don't their wives give up their asses to keep them happy?" she asked, as if it were perfectly natural to her.

I laughed, "I doubt their wives are good little anal whore like you Alice." And she smiled at this twisted compliment, not detecting my ironic inflection. "Turn around, bend over and show me." I ordered.

She obeyed without complaint, lifting her skirt and spreading herself wide for my inspection. Her arse and cunt both looked well used. Her anus gaped and it was pretty obvious that everyone who had fucked her had cum in her. Sperm trickled from both her holes, flowing down her inner thighs and soaking her stocking tops. As I watched a fat blob ran from her arse and splashed on the floor.

She looked back at me over her shoulder and shyly asked. "Did you call me over to make use of me Sir? Perhaps you wished to fuck my ass as well?" I could see a tinge of fear in her eyes -- but also desire. The sight of her in front of me was so obscene and horny that I was sorely tempted, my cock started to harden. I nearly forgot that in fact I had asked her to attend me so that I could order a drink.

Just before I made a decision I felt a tap on my shoulder. I glanced around to see the Right Honourable Quentin Leaf. But he wasn't seeing me; he had eyes only for Alice.

"Would you mind if I had a ride old boy?" he asked, voice hoarse with lust.

I smiled to hide my annoyance at his interruption. "Not at all..........old boy. Be my guest, quite literally."

Without even a word of thanks or any other preliminary, he unzipped his trousers and shoved an impressively sized cock into Alice's receptive arse. With the lack of subtlety that marked his years as a cabinet minister he grabbed her hips and pulled her back on to his complete length. Alice remained bent forward, hands on her knees and grunted with each of his thrusts.

I left them to it, feeling pleased that Alice's attitude seemed to have improved, to get the drink for myself.

When I returned to Kat's table more people were gathered but there seemed to be a pause in the activity. I noticed Mary beside the Ambassador, an old friend in every sense. I also noticed that as he pinched and tweaked Kat's nipples, Mary was gently stroking his veiny cock into an impressive erection.

Pausing at the head of the table I looked up at the portraits. My ancestors, from many generations, looked down on the scene and I couldn't help wondering what they would think if they could actually see it. From what I knew of my family history I was positive that most of them would have been disappointed not to be attending. Especially old great, great (something) grandfather Joshua, who'd reputedly been an original member of the Hellfire Club. But most especially, of all of them, my father would have been devastated not to be here, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the centre of the debauchery. I glanced at his painting -- he would have loved this. 

Then I glanced at the picture besides his. "You hated all this didn't you..........Mother?" 

The painting showed a short, plump, blonde woman. Despite the best efforts of the famous painter responsible, he hadn't made her look beautiful. Nor could he entirely conceal the air of mild disdain that was my mother's default expression. Her family's money had been welcome, crucial even, when my parent's married -- but it had not been a basis for a happy match.

Breaking out my reverie I bent forward and lifted Kat's head with one hand, tipping the glass of water to her lips with the other. She drank deeply and gratefully, then smiled up at me. Again she couldn't see that it was me, couldn't know it was me, but something about that smile made me believe that she did.

Then a familiar voice broke my train of thought.

"Awwwww, what a touching scene?"

I looked up to see my sister, Bailey La Motte. As always, when I saw her, I was struck by how much she looked like me. If people met us together for the first time they almost always assumed we were twins. Like me she was tall, slim, dark, almost black, hair and green eyes. Now these eyes were full of mischief; cruel mischief. 

She stood flanked by Wren and her uninvited guest, gloved fists on her hips, sporting thigh high boots and short leather skirt. Under a cropped jacket (also leather) she wore a silk blouse with a ruffled front -- every bit of her clothing was black.

"Hello Bailey." I said, keeping my voice flat. 'Your usual understated arrival I see.' And then, even though I knew she only ever wore designer clothes, I couldn't resist adding, 

"How many vinyls died to make that outfit?"

She sneered back at me; head cocked aggressively forward and to one side, green eyes flashing.

"And I am pleased to see you too Bast-i-on." She said, her voice continuing to drip sarcasm. Then she glanced down at the table as I lowered Kat's head.

"Is this your new toy bro? The one Wren's been telling me all about?"

I looked at my cousin, furious. He had the good grace to look embarrassed. But Bailey had always been able to wrap him round her finger.

"Of course you always let your guests play with your toys at party time, don't you B?" my sister purred as she moved closer and ran her fingernail across Kat's breast.

"I am sooooo looking forward to playing with this one." Then she looked at me directly and the cruelest, coldest smile slid across her lips.

"Can I Bastion? Can I pleeeeassse play with your toy?" she asked, in voice mimicking a child begging for a treat.

Her tone of voice reminded me of our childhood. And of the fact that any time she had borrowed a toy of mine, she always broke it.

I tried to gather my thoughts and think of some reason to deny my sister her demand, however she might pretend to made it sound like a request.

At that point Mary left of her ministrations of the Ambassador, and approached our tense standoff. 

"Good evening Miss La Motte. How delightful to see you." She said, with what seemed to be genuine sincerity. "Could I get a drink for you and your......guest?"

I knew she was only trying to perform her duties as hostess, to ease the tension that perhaps only she had detected; I also knew that she was wasting her time. The antipathy between these two was deep-seated and long lasting.

Bailey turned to face Mary and, had she been a cat, her fur would have been up and she would have been hissing and spitting.

"Ah, the dowager chatelaine, ever ready to serve -- and to insult." She snarled. "The correct way to address me is 'Lady Bailey', as you should very well know. So I can't say that I am delighted to see you....Mary. I thought you might have been pensioned off by now."

I saw the effort it took Mary not to bridle at these insults, she merely shrugged. But her eyes narrowed and her shoulders straightened as she prepared for a battle. Knowing Mary I was sure it would be a polite fight and wondered if Bailey knew what she was starting, or re-starting. 

Mary made an almost convincing effort to smile and continued her attempts to placate.

"I am grateful that Bastian continues to find me useful....Lady Bailey. Perhaps, if you don't want a drink, your guest might care for refreshment?"

Bailey glanced up at the man she had arrived with. He was tall and slim, of Middle Eastern appearance. He was also handsome, bordering on beautiful. The smile on his face showed that he had not read the currents of tension swirling around him. But it did seem to indicate that a drink seemed pretty good idea to him.




Tuition Ch. 04.5



Bailey's hackles went down a fraction. "Two champagnes then. And the good stuff, not the horse-piss Bastian tries to palm off on these proles." She ordered as she wafted her hand in the general direction of my guests.

Bailey seemed determined to piss off everyone in the room. Situation normal then 

Without a 'please' or a 'thank you' she dismissed Mary by turning her back on her. She glanced at me to see if her barb had struck home. I kept my face impassive.

"I'd heard Mary was still working here." She said to me, honeyed poison still dripping from her words. "Are you still fucking the old bitch Bastian? Is that why you keep her on? Couldn't do without our wet-nurse? Worried she'd have to whore on the streets if did the sensible thing and let her go? I've been told you're losing your grip here. That you are too........soft to run this household properly?"

I made every effort not to glance at Wren, but my eyes must have flickered in his direction -- and Bailey noticed. Her vicious smile of satisfaction showed she felt she had drawn first blood.

Trying to sound as natural as possible I asked, "You think I should be harder Bailey? Like you? You feel you could do a better job with Shornecliffe?" 

Before she could respond I went on. "Within a year you'd be selling the family silver to fund your so called 'life-style' and the money would be snorted up the noses of your coke-whore hangers-on."

Now it was Bailey's turn to betray herself, by looking at her Arab friend. Then she turned her gaze on me, fury glittering in her eyes.

"One all" I mouthed silently.

With an effort she shrugged off my riposte. "Is that why you cut off my trust fund brother? Or was it just you being spiteful?"

I rolled my eyes at this, an old argument revived. "Maybe I thought you should earn your money, work for it. I felt it my duty to ensure that my.........our father's legacy not be wasted." I told her. 

Her eyes hooded and an ambiguous smile illuminated her face. "Your duty? Yes you were always one to do your duty weren't you brother? Stick to the rules, play it by the book?"

I was slightly alarmed by that smile. I wondered what it presaged.

"Duty and tradition are your watchwords, aren't they Bastian?" She whispered, as she turned by back to the table once again, staring down at Kat, bound and helpless. 

Icy fingers of premonition prickled my spine. I began to see the trap she had set for me, that I had walked into. What made it worse was that Barton had tried it on me and I still fell for it the second time. My damn fucking pride was becoming a major liability.

"Of course tradition dictates that the maids should entertain guests at Shornecliffe parties, doesn't it brother dearest?" Once again her manicured fingernails were tracing red marks across Kat's breasts. Her smile was now twice as wide and doubly infuriating.

"Father was most insistent on that subject I seem to remember." She looked straight at me. "Even that stuck-up bitch Mary did duty as a cum-bucket back then. Do you remember that as well Bastian? She leaked spunk for days afterwards." Then she added, "but not any more I hear.

"Instead with have this common little trollop to take her place, don't we?"

I knew I was outmaneuvered; all I could do was nod, teeth clenched.

"Wonderful" she cried, clapping her hands in delight. "In that case, I want to use this slut." She said pointing theatrically at Kat. "And I want to use her very, very traditionally."

With those words she strode around the table and grasped the whip that filled Kat's arse and pulled it out, tearing a gasp of pain from her mouth. Holding it by the shaft she moved to the head of the table and pressed the handle against Kat's closed lips. 

"Lick it clean!" she demanded. Everyone watching held their breath until they saw Kat give the slightest shake of her head.

Only a few hours before she had willingly obeyed the same order from me. But the whip had been in her pussy, not her arse. Bailey was risking Kat's health with such an order. My guests were all screened before a party for other health risks and I knew none would request such a dangerous activity as this. Despite this I steeled myself not to interfere.

Enraged, Bailey looked as if she was about raise the whip and bring it down on Kat. But in an instant she mastered her rage as a different idea occurred to her. With most the unpleasant smile I think I have ever seen she turned to me and shouted.

"BASTIAN! One of your servants has refused an order?" The unasked question that hung in the air was obvious to everyone - "what are you going to do about it?"

I knew there was only one answer to the question. Walking like a wind-up soldier I went to the table of toys and selected a long, thick riding crop. I flexed it as I approached the table -and my disobedient maid.

"I am disappointed in you Miss Soren." I announced stiffly. "You know the rules of your employment. You will be punished for your disobedience. You will not refuse my guests anything in future. Do you understand?" I waited till I saw the slightest nod of her blindfolded head, then I paused again. 

I knew that Kat did not really deserve this punishment. I relied on my guests not to make unreasonable, dangerous or unhealthy requests of my staff. But I could not rely on Bailey to do the same. But she obviously wanted to hurt by proxy. There were too many 'connoisseurs' of BDSM gathered around the table for me to get away with taking it easy on the girl. I had to do the 'correct' thing.

"You will receive six stokes and you will count them for me." I ordered. Then, without hesitation, I raised the crop and brought it whistling down, straight across both thighs of my maid.

Her cry was intense and heart wrenching, the livid stripe on her legs immediately apparent. I waited until her gasps and sobs subsided and she was able to say, in a choked voice.

"One.......Master."

The crop came down again, just as hard, leaving a new, parallel welt. This time her cry was half scream, half moan as she arced up from the table

"Two, Master" Clearer this time.

Again. There was now no mistaking the changes in her reaction to her punishment. This time the noises she made were almost all moan.

"Three.........thank you Master."

Harder this time, four cruel red stripes in delicious contrast to the whiteness of her skin, matching the marks I had left on her back earlier that day.

"Four, Master."

The fifth cut crossed the first four diagonally, increasing the pain as it fell on already lacerated flesh. Kat strained upwards against her bonds. Her nipples were hard and a deep pink flush coloured her breasts. Her gasps and moans signified her want, unmistakably the sounds of desire.

I could sense that those watching were entranced, they were frozen and you could have heard a pin drop. I doubted that, even with all their experience, they had seen anything like this before

"Five Master." Some how just these two words conveyed so much. An entreaty, a prayer, a supplication.

Pausing only to be sure of my aim I brought the riding crop down, hard -- directly on her clitoris. It was as if I pressed the firing switch that set of a human explosion. Kat screamed in the throes of her release, head back, orgasming in a wave of gasps and sighs that lasted about a minute. When her super stimulated body was back under some form of control, when her she returned from the verge of hyperventilation, she announced:

"Six. THANK YOU Master." I turned away, without expression, without looking at Kat. There was a hush, an almost awed silence from the on-lookers. "He made her cum on the crop!?"

With a mock inclination of my head and click of my heels I gave the crop to Bailey.

I saw Mary at Bailey's elbow, with two glasses of champagne. Bailey snatched one and gulped it down. There was no sign of her guest, for whom the other glass was intended, so she took his glass as well. She sipped at it as she prowled around her prey, perhaps thinking she would find her more amenable to control now.

With my riding crop she idly flipped Kat's small, deliciously pink nipples. Then her eyes lit on the nearby table and her face broke into the grin of a child in a toyshop. She picked up a paddle, then a flogger before she settled on a pair of nipple clamps, joined by a chain. She picked them up and twirled them round, smiling at me, trying to goad me. I kept my face set, waiting.

She grasped one of Kat's nipples, twisting it and pulling it upwards. The girl could not see what was about to happen and her first inkling was the pain of the sharp metal teeth of one clamp biting into her tender flesh. Kat's breath hissed through her clenched teeth.

"Your ugly fat titties need improvement slut." Bailey cooed as she tightened the first clamp and then made sure the second was attached and screwed it down, hard.

The comment was revealing. It seemed my sister, a B cup at best, was more than a little envious of Kat's magnificent breasts.

She grasped the chain connecting the clamps and tugged. Kat's only reaction was a gasp. Bailey tugged harder and I could see Kat biting her lip so as not to give her tormenter the satisfaction of an audible reaction.

"Are you trying to be tough?" Bailey shouted. "Let's find out how tough you are then?"

I wasn't the only one who noticed how worked up Bailey was getting. Her face was red and her eyes wide. It seemed the mixture of her anger and sexual excitement at having a helpless victim was a powerful combination.

Her eyes cast around wildly and then a cruel smile curled her lips as she saw the candles. She took a large, red candle from a holder and held it over Kat's body.

Tilting the candle the first blob of wax splashed between Kat's breasts. She flinched at the unexpected heat and her head shook from side to side. Bailey moved the candle and a thick trail of wax mirrored its path across her breast. As the wax approached her nipple Bailey moved the candle closer to the maid's body. I knew that this meant, as it had less distance to drip, less time to cool, it would be much hotter and more painful. By the time the first drops of wax fell on Kat's nipple, where it protruded from the clamps, the wick was about an inch from her skin.

Kat twitched and twisted in her bonds, her breath whistling in her nose - but she kept her mouth clamped shut and barely made a noise. Bailey paused in her assault and took another candle, this one green. She started slowly on Kat's other breast, working with cruel, patient intent towards the hard, cruelly clamped nipple at its centre. After a few seconds pause she tilted the candle beyond 90 degrees and splashed the large pool of hot wax gathered in the candle onto Kat's already tortured nipple, encrusting her exposed flesh and the clamp with wax 

Kat panted rapidly and her breasts heaved with the effort of not crying out. Furiously Bailey brought the crop down on the cooling wax and compressed nipple. All she got was a tiny moan and a few disapproving mutters from several of the watchers. She looked around wildly, trying to see who disapproved.

"The bitch is mine to play with, as I see fit." She hissed. "You can cuddle her if you like, when it's your turn, but only when I am done with her." I thought I saw a fleck of spittle at the corner of her mouth as she spoke, glaring around.

She took a bigger, white candle and dripped it across Kat's stomach. The final destination for the wax was all too evident, but she took her time. A few drips of wax hissed as they fell into the last of the sauce in the girl's navel. We could all see her flinch with each drop, see her pale skin redden under the wax -- but she never made a noise. Then Bailey worked the white ropes lower. The first globs splashed onto her pussy lips and Kat almost levitated from the table, but did not even whimper. I could see the fury in Bailey's almost demented eyes as her victim still refused to cry out. She held the candle upright until a lot of wax had pooled around the wick, then she dumped the lot of it onto Kat's clitoris.

Kat couldn't have seen what was coming, but she must have been expecting it. Her body went horribly rigid and she held her breath until the wax cooled slightly -- then she exhaled in a long sigh. It was the sound of relief, as if she knew the worst was over, as if she had weathered the storm.

Bailey gave a ludicrous, little, high-pitched scream of frustration and threw down the candle. It seemed the frustration came from a mixture of sources. She wanted to 'break' Kat but her need for satisfaction had suddenly become stronger. With scrabbling hands she unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off and dropped it on the floor. She started laughing as she climbed on the table, hitched up her skirt, then she squatted with her boot clad feet on either side of Kat's head.

"If I can't make you scream the least you can do is make me come you bitch." She declared as she lowered her cunt on to Kat's face, grinding it into her lips.

"Come on my slut whore, tongue my cunt." She urged. I watched as she grabbed Kat by the hair and lifted her head to more firmly drive her face into the centre of her urgency. Bailey certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, because I could see her wetness coating Kat's chin and cheeks, but I was not. I wanted to intervene and I could see several of the on-lookers glancing at me, obviously willing me to do so. But I held myself in check.

"You're not doing it right." Bailey screamed. She stood up and turned 180 degrees before squatting down on Kat's face again -- this time facing down her prone body.

"Lick me bitch!" she demanded and brought the crop down on Kat's right breast. Wax shattered and flew, the chain on the nipple clamps jangled.

Her eyes went dreamy. "That's it, that's the way." Bailey must have felt that encouragement from the crop was obviously having the desired effect and it was rose and fell a few more time, making Kat's tits wobble with each blow.

"That's good slave, get your tongue in nice and deep." She pressed her cunt down further onto Kat, grinding on her. "You're going to make me cum you dirty slut" Bailey crooned. Then she lashed an off-balance swipe at Kat's cunt.

"Good slave, worship the cunt of your Mistres...."

At that moment Bailey screamed in agony and leapt up from Kat's face and down from the table. For a moment she hopped around comically, clutching her groin.

"That fucking bitch bit my clit!" she shrieked.

Then Kat spoke for the first time that evening. Turning her head she stared directly at Bailey and calmly announced.

"You are not my mistress."

I thought Bailey had been angry before, but now she flew into a rage that made everything that went before seem like a mild tantrum. 

"You shitty, disobedient piece of scum. How DARE you talk to me like that you...COMMON....servant class......WHORE!" She bellowed, face turning red with the effort. Then she raised her crop and was obviously ready to fly at Kat, intent on doing serious damage.

In that instant my self-restraint cracked. In a flash, almost without thinking, my hand shot out and I grabbed Bailey's wrist. 

"NO!" I bellowed.

For a second we tussled -- my face close to enraged countenance. Then I squeezed until she dropped the riding crop. I let go of her and she stared at me with such a look of disbelief that, under different circumstances, I would have laughed out loud. I had never seen anyone more shocked in my life. I noticed that all other activity in the room had stopped. The silence was thunderous.

I let go of her wrist and I saw her drawing breath to break that silence and I braced myself. Just at that second I heard a voice calling my name, Wren's voice.

"Bastian?!" I could hear the urgency in his tone

Wren and Adam pushed their way through the crowd surrounding Bailey and I, Barton trailing after them. Between them they held my sister's guest, the handsome Arab. My cousins looked worried, grim even. The guy they had a hold of was trying to look unconcerned but his nervousness was betrayed by the way his flicked out, licking his lips and his eyes darted about - as if looking for an escape route.

"What's this about Wren?" I demanded

Wren let go of the guy's arm as Barton stepped forward to take over. He stepped forward, dangling a camera by its strap on his finger.

"We found this guy taking pictures." Wren explained. I took the camera and flipped it over. Clicking through the images on the screen my blood chilled. There, in high quality digital images were the seeds of a scandal to top all scandals. Alice and the Ambassador, Alice and the Member of Parliament, Mary and the Judge. Finally I gazed at pictures of me, lashing Kat as she lay tied down and defenseless. I shuddered as I pictured the headlines.

I looked up at the man who had planned to bring ruin and disgrace down upon me. The fury that boiled up in me must have been plain on my face. Before I even had a chance to say a word he started blustering, trying to explain, stuttering and spluttering.

'You better let go of me.' He squeaked, trying ineffectually to shrug off the grasp of Barton and Adam. "I'm a reporter....you can't do anything to me. I was only doing my job. Let me go....you can't do anything to me...I'm a reporter." Then he trailed off as I moved inside his personal space and got close enough to see the sweat springing out of his pores; close enough to smell his fear.

"I don't think you're a reporter?" I hissed. "If you were you'd have a hidden camera. This," I held the camera up in front of me, "is strictly amateur hour stuff." His expression gave him away instantly, I'd guessed right.

"You're just a chancer who thought he get rich by screwing me over! Wannabe paparazzi scum." I felt my rage rising as I thought about how close to tabloid infamy I had come. I stepped back from him and pointed at my guests

"Ever person here is here of their own free will. Every one is a consenting adult, enjoying themselves in the privacy of MY home!!" By now I was close to shouting. 

"And you snuck in here, abusing my hospitality, with the intention of destroying the lives of my friends, intending to ruin me?! Then you try to tell me 'I can't do anything to you'" my voice mimicked his whining, pleading tone. "Even if you were a reporter it isn't some sort of diplomatic immunity."

I am not sure what I would have done next if I hadn't felt a considerable presence looming at my shoulder. The boss of the security company had some how been alerted and was standing beside me.

I help up the camera and didn't say a word. He glanced at the man still being held between Barton and Adam. 

"Sir, I searched him and his luggage personal myself." He spoke like a policeman in court. "I've never seen him at one of your Lordship's parties before, so I took responsibility for him searching him myself." Then he paused in his evidence and continued with certitude. "He did not have a camera on him."

"Then how..." I started to say, before Wren interrupted

"Bailey wasn't searched." He told me, voice flat and inflectionless. "I'm sure she brought the camera." Bailey rewarded him with a flashing look of pure hatred.

My glance flashed back to the security boss and I asked, "Did you search my sister?"

His mouth gaped open, he seemed appalled at the idea. "Search The Lady Bailey? I didn't...I didn't think...I"

I cut him off. "You're right, you didn't think. Get out!"

I turned to face Bailey. She was already the focus of everyone else's attention.

"Got anything to say Bailey?" I asked her, as calmly as I could. "Did you bring the camera in for him?" An obvious conclusion occurred to me as I spoke.

"He isn't your usual 'type' is he Bailey? In fact, I think you brought him along just so he could take pictures. Is that right?"

At that moment I couldn't help feeling a sneaking sense of admiration for my sister. She stood, fists on hips once again, trying by the force of will alone to stare down a room of hostile faces.




Tuition Ch. 04.5



"You moron." She spat. "As if I would do such a thing? I have no idea where he got the camera from."

I saw that, at least for the moment, I was wasting my time on Bailey. I turned back to the photographer. "Did Bailey give you the camera?"

Everyone watching could see the truth written on his face, but he started to shake his head, starting to deny it. He was cut short by Barton reaching down and grabbing his cock through his trousers and twisting it savagely. He screamed like a girl until Barton shouted at him,

"Answer the question - truthfully."

The man sobbed as he confessed. "Yes..YES! That bitch brought the camera. She told me I'd get £20k for the pictures. It was all HER idea."

I smiled as my suspicions were confirmed. I had to take decisive action now, to nip this in the bud.

I looked at Barton and issued instructions. "Strap that piece of shit to one of the 'sore horses' till I'm ready to deal with him. If he makes the slightest noise you have my permission to twist his cock right off." Perhaps believing my threat he went quietly, lead away by Adam and my butler. 

Mary clapped her hands sharply, attracting the attention of my shocked looking guests. 

"Ladies and gentleman, supper is about to be served. Perhaps you'd like to make your way to the tables?"

Some of them obviously, actually, wouldn't like to, but Mary was not to be gainsaid. I flashed her a smile of gratitude as she shooed and cajoled the guests away . As they moved I noticed that, whilst all the excitement had been taking place, Kat had been untied from her table. Alice had sponged the food and wax from her body with a towel and warm water and was now tenderly massaging her wrists. I caught the French girl's gaze as she did so and could see a worried look cross her face. With a quick nod and a smile I wordlessly let her know that I approved of her actions. Then I turned back to my sister.

Now she looked a little less certain, but she was still trying to appear defiant.

"Why did you do it Bailey?" I said, in my most reasonable voice. She didn't even to appear to hear my question.

Inspiration struck me again. "Where were you going to get twenty thousand pounds from? That's a lot of money for to give an accomplice?" I paused for a second, noticing that Mary had come to my side.

"How much were you going to get for the pictures Bailey? What's it worth to sell out your family these days?"

Bailey sighed with mock boredom. "You are such a tiresome prick Bastian." Then the rage that she had damped down suddenly flared up. "You cut off my trust fund you CUNT! What did you expect me to live on? Huh?" Then she smiled.

"I am...I was...going to get a million pounds for exposing you bunch of sick perverts; a million pounds." She sounded gleeful.

"Even without the pictures my story is going to be worth a fortune. And there is nothing..NOTHING any of you can do about it!"

I felt movement at my side. Mary took two steps forward, drew her arm back and delivered a round arm slap to Baileys face. Mary was panting with fury as she shouted. 

"How could you even think of doing that to your family?!"

Bailey was aghast; her hand went to her face, touching the cheek that bore the red imprint of Mary's hand. I guessed that this experience was a completely new one to her. Almost instantly tears flooded from her eyes.

More sad than angry she wailed, "Why do you always take Bastian's side? You've always hated me Mary, always."

I could see both women in profile as they spoke and my brain started to spin as I looked at them. They looked so similar. Why had I not ever really noticed before? Because I saw them together so rarely? Then I heard Mary say, in a completely different tone of voice,

"You couldn't be more wrong Bailey." Her words were unmistakably tender. "I have always loved you dear."

Pieces of an old jig-saw puzzle clicked into place. I raised my eyes to the portraits above me, the 5th Earl and his wife gazing down on us. Then the incontrovertible truth struck me like a bolt of lightning. I felt like a genius, then like an idiot in the next moment. "Why had it taken me so long to realize?"

Mary turned to me and came closer. "I think my...your sister deserves to be punished Bastion."

"Yes...."

(Bailey looks like me)

"I agree...."

(Bailey looks Mary)

"................Mother."

I whispered the last word so that only Mary heard it, but the effect was instantaneous. I saw her body stiffen slightly, and her eyes fill with tears. I could tell that her pride and iron will were the only things keeping her upright in that instant, that stopped her from fainting. I put out a hand out to steady her but I she refused my help with the faintest shake of her head before she drew her shoulders back and straightened up. If I'd even the slightest remaining doubt her reaction banished it. "How...how....how? When she couldn't find more than that single word to say she stopped. I grasped her hand and lead her away from Bailey slightly, then drew her to me and hugged her tenderly.

"It doesn't matter. I just this second worked it out. It doesn't matter, expect I wish I'd known sooner...' I whispered in her ear. 

Muffled against my shoulder she started to explain. "When your father found out that....his...wife couldn't have.............." she trailed off. "I bore you and Bailey but to be a legitimate heir we had to.............I'm so sorry Bastion, your father made me promi.."

I tilted her face up to mine and hushed her words with my hand. "Stop, not now... Mother.." The word felt strange but right in my mouth. I brushed away the tears from her cheeks with a gentle fingertip and watched a tremulous smile blossom on her lips.

"We'll talk all about that soon enough. But not here, not in front of everyone. La Mottes don't make a scene. I saw the effect my words had, retrospectively adding her to my family and she smiled crookedly and wiped at her tears.

Then we heard Bailey's complaints getting louder. 

"What did I say about this family not making a scene? But wasn't Bailey always the exception to any rule. We have a lot to talk about, but later; right now we have a few other things to take care of." 

With my arm protectively around Mary's shoulder I turned my attention back to Bailey. Mary's slap seemed to have temporarily taken the wind from her sails but she was building up a new head of steam, swearing and ranting. I noticed that Barton and Wren had returned from dealing with the photographer.

"I think Bailey needs to be taught a lesson, to be punished. "I announced, a bit like a judge pronouncing sentence. "A punishment that fits the La Motte tradition." 

I stopped and looked around. "Does anyone disagree?" 

There was no sound apart from Bailey's mouth opening and shutting in shock 

"Barton? Wren? Put her on the cross."

This broke Bailey's brief silence and she started to shriek and flail at my cousin and the butler. But they quickly grabbed her arms, even getting help from a couple of guests, and lifted off her feet between them. I heard Bailey screaming, "Bastian? Bastian!" but I ignored and went to check on Kat.

She stood by the table she had recently adorned, looking a little shaky. Alice still hovered at her side, looking at me reproachfully. As I walked towards them I shooed Alice away and she scurried off with a glance and a smile for Kat. I stopped a pace away and looked her up and down. Her smile was a little crooked, but at least it was a smile. I smiled back. Alice had done a good job cleaning her, but I could still see angry red marks across her body where the wax had scalded. Her nipples bore the marks of the clamps and when I looked further down I saw the stripes left by crop and I winced at the memory.

She must have caught my expression. She quickly dropped her eyes and started to speak quietly. "I disobeyed, you....had to...I know you had option but to......"

I silenced her by taking her chin gently between thumb and forefinger, raising her face until I was gazing into her sky-blue eyes. Then, only when I had her full attention, did I speak.

"Katerina Soren, you are not to try and excuse or justify my actions and commands. You are just to accept them, to submit to them. Do you understand?"

I waited till her head nodded and I released her chin. I found myself stroking her cheek with the back of my hand.

"Good" was all I found myself able to say.

I noticed Wren out of the corner of my and snapped out my unexpected and tender reverie to turn to him.

We stared at each other for a moment. Then he slowly spoke. "I'm sorry Bastian."

"What for?" I asked.

He only half answered my question. "Bailey kept asking me what you were up to, when she and I met........to....Well I didn't see what the harm was....in feeding her a few bits of gossip. She was always very....grateful....if you know what I mean?"

Without smiling I said, "So she fucked you to get the dirt on me?"

Wren had the good grace to look hang-dog. "Yeah, I guess so. But I swear I didn't know she was passing it on to the press. Shit, if I'd know that, obviously I wouldn't have."

I let him wind down to silence, leaving him dangling on the hook just a little longer. Then I allowed myself a hint of a smile as I asked

"So, you and Bailey eh? What was that like?"

Wren looked at me, trying to gauge me real mood, and risked a smile of his own. 

"What do you think it was like?" Then he laughed. "A fucking nightmare was what it was like. Constantly barking orders, 'slower, faster', stuff like that." 

Wren stopped, "and she never came, never had an orgasm, whatever I tried - which was a bit of blow to my pride, if you know what I mean?"

I nodded in sympathy

Wren carried on. "She blamed me for that, even though she admitted she'd never had an orgasm." He shook his head sadly, "Not ever, poor bitch."

Then he smiled as he recalled, "Then, one time she got extra bossy. I'm doing my best and she was shouting 'harder, deeper' so I shouted back at her 'tighter, wetter!' Laughing, he continued. "And that was that. She got up and left without another word. Never called me again."

"I'm not surprised." I responded "Bailey never accepted even a polite request in her life, let alone an order". I sighed.

"You were 'played' Wren, manipulated by a maestro. But you came good in the end, didn't you?

I saw him start to smile when he began to believe I was going to let him off, but I could see he was puzzled by my question. 

"You ended up on the side of the angels at the end? You caught that photographer?"

He looked relieved and shrugged. "What else was I going to do? It was actually Barton who first noticed him acting suspiciously. He came and told me and Adam and we grabbed him."

"So I have Barton to thank as well as you and Adam?" That gave me pause for thought. Perhaps he was worthy of a bonus?

We both turned when we heard a foul tirade coming from the other end of the room. Barton and Adam were strapping Bailey to the St Andrews Cross and she obviously wasn't liking it one bit.

Wren glanced down at the table and picked up a ball-gag. 'That noise reminds me of what I came for" he laughed. He strode off and shortly afterwards the noise level dropped considerably.

I pointed down at the table from which Wren had taken the gag, ordering Kat to take several of the items. "Come with me." I took her by the hand and lead her towards the cross where the other guests were gathering, anxious for the dénouement. 

Bailey was strapped to the cross - front on. Barton was fastening the last leather strap around one her ankles, whilst Adam held it to stop her kicking back. Wren had gotten the gag in her mouth, a braver man than many obviously. But this didn't stop Bailey trying to curse every one of us, turning to glare over her shoulder, eyes wide and wild. We could hear her muffled invective and shouting, muffled by the gag.

Without preamble I took the 'safety scissors' from Kat. I always kept a pair ready at my parties in case some needed releasing quickly from bindings quickly, in case of a medical emergency. Designed to cut ropes they made short work of Bailey's leather skirt. In her fury she was trying to fight the straps, shaking with rage, making her now exposed arse jiggle before the crowd.

Then I took a second item from Kat, my favourite cane, 4ft long and thick as my middle finger. I flexed it to test the spring in its length. Then I announced to the guests.

"I am feeling a little 'biblical' right now." I said and smiled. "Maybe I should quote the passage, 'vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord?'" I got a polite laugh from those who got the pun on my title. Or perhaps it just wasn't as funny as I thought.

I pressed on. "No, not that one. But I am staying with the Old Testament, my favourite, and I am going to take Leviticus 24:20 and adapt it a bit, 'eye for eye, tooth for tooth. As he has injured the other, so he is to be injured.' Then I paused, "Or in this case, she is to be injured."

With a flourish I handed the cane to Kat. "I want you to punish Bailey. It is your right."



Tuition Ch. 06



~Bastion~

I saw Kat looking at me over the curve of Bailey's arse and I smiled at her. I had told Kat to punish my sister and she had; not in the way I had suggested, or expected, but in a better way. A part of me was pleased with the streak of cruelty that had been exposed in Kat by her actions.

"Leave her." I ordered and heard Bailey give a strangled cry of frustration. I walked over to the cross and trailed my fingers over her buttocks.

"You still haven't learned how to 'ask nicely' have you Bailey?" I told her, my voice silky. "You aren't in any position to give orders anymore?" Then I slapped the taut moon of her backside to emphasize my words.

I looked up to see Kat, standing beside Bailey. Off to one side I also noticed Barton. His gaze was almost comically flitting from the maid to my sister. Seeing him reminded me that I had some un-discharged obligations. I motioned him over.

I found myself clapping him on the shoulder and saying, "I believe I am in your debt Barton....Barton?" I was finding it hard to get his full attention. Close now to Kat he couldn't drag his eyes away from her tits. Kat was conscious of his interest and I could see her blush. 

I knew that I had to do what was expected and my heart sank.

Finally her looked at me and looked perplexed. "Debt?" he grunted, "what debt?"

"Wren told me it was you spotted that guy taking pictures." I explained, speaking slowly. "You saved me from huge embarrassment, a scandal." 

I paused, and then hurried on. "I think you have well and truly earned your 'bonus'". As I said that I gently touched Kat's elbow.

I saw Barton's face light up with delight as he realized what I was suggesting, then noticed the shock and horror on Kat's face. For a second I thought she was going to speak, then her shoulders slumped and her head dropped. I felt almost physically sick at the prospect. But what else could I do?

At just that moment Bailey shifted in her bindings and started to complain. I swatted her arse again, and as I did I had an inspired thought.

Smiling at the possibilities I put my arm around Barton's shoulder. "You made it clear earlier that you wanted Kat as your reward?" He nodded.

"But I am thinking you deserve a bigger bonus than that, my man." This got his attention. As I took my arm back I surreptitiously rubbed the grease off my hand on my trouser leg, and sold him my new, better idea.

"Instead of a servant wouldn't you prefer something a little bit more.......upper-class?" I asked him. Blank face. "You get one of the maids each summer Barton, wouldn't you prefer some richer meat? What about some aristocratic arse Barton? A bit of 'posh totty'?"

His face was a picture as he began to catch on. He glanced down at Bailey, then back to me, not daring to believe what he hoped I was offering.

My sister was a little quicker on the uptake and I heard her draw breath and begin swearing, "No fucking way will that pig........"

My open palm came down on her arse with all my strength, temporarily shocking the breath out of her.

"Wouldn't you rather fuck Bailey than Kat?" I asked him. His yellow, snaggle-toothed smile was all the answer I needed. He confirmed his choice with his usual tact and delicacy.

"Oh yes. I want to give that stuck up cunt a fucking like she never had, till she squeals like a stuck pig." He enthused, voice already hoarse with lust.

Without another word he started to unbuckle his belt and scrabble at his fly. I moved to adjust the cross, releasing a catch and bending it in half so that Bailey folded over at a 90 degree angle, her arse presented at hip height.

Bailey's complaints were rising in volume and level of vitriol. But I could hear in her insults a hint of hysteria, a certain 'this can't be happening to me' feeling.

Barton took the cane from where Kat had left it and moved to where he could wave it in Bailey's face. "Shut the fuck up you slut." He bellowed, holding his pants up with his other hand. "If you keep bitching I'll turn your arse to bloody ribbons." He glanced at me and blanched a little then, gathering up his bravado, he winked. He knew that I wouldn't allow that -- but Bailey couldn't be sure. Then Barton dropped his trousers and surprised (nearly) everyone. 

I already knew that Barton was well endowed. I'd seen him take his 'bonus' with other maids, at other parties. In fact 'well-endowed' was something of an understatement -- the man was HUGE. As he shuffled clumsily towards Bailey, trousers round his ankles, his cock came to a full and threatening erection. I heard gasps and looked over to my shoulder to see Kat and Mary were the culprits. My angry look made Mary giggle and Kat drop her head, blushing; but also smiling.

Barton took his shaft in his hand as he arrived between Bailey's buttocks. It was like a man taking up a club. He slapped it on my sister's arse cheek with a meaty thud that made her squeal with disgust. Ignoring her increasing screeches he started to skewer his cock into her exposed pussy without further preamble.

"Ooh that's lovely!" he groaned. "That blonde bint's made her nice and wet with her tongue." Bailey's complaints reached a new pitch and Wren asked Barton if he wanted her gagged again.

"No", he chuckled, "I want to hear this one squeal." With those words he jerked his hips and produced the result he had predicted. Bailey's high-pitched protest turned into a guttural grunt as Barton's buttocks started to move, driving a little more of his massive shaft into her.

"No, no!" she screamed. "Don't.....don't let him do this to me." Bailey was facing away from me, couldn't see me. But I knew her words were directed at me. She wasn't asking, she was still trying to tell; but no-one was taking her orders any more.

Barton was doing some grunting of his own now, each time he thrust into Bailey. Each time a little more of his prick was buried in Bailey's obscenely stretched cunt. In response she started to shout at her implacable assailant.

"Take it out you filthy pig," she demanded. "You can't do this to ME!" In answer he just rammed her harder, forcing her forward on the cross, against the leather bindings. "You common little shit. I will make you regret this for the rest of your life unless you stop right now!"

Barton might as well have been deaf for all the notice he paid. He drew back, the entire length of his prick glistening with Bailey's slickness, was exposed for a second before he shoved it back in; all the way in. At the end of the stroke he stood almost on tiptoes, lifting the lower half of Bailey's body. For a second it almost seemed he was supporting her solely on the massive length of his cock.

Bailey began to slowly change her tune - and her tone. Barton carried on ignoring her and carried on fucking her.

"Not so hard!" she insisted. "You're hurting me." Was there a hint of pleading in her voice I wondered?

Barton was obviously enjoying himself, eyes closed, smiling, as he built a steady rhythm, oblivious to anything but his own pleasure. But it seemed, amazingly, that Bailey was not oblivious. Did I see her arse moving, ever so slightly, as much as was possible within her restraints? Moving backwards just a fraction, as if to meet my servant's thrusts? I heard whispers from around me that seemed to indicate that some of those watching thought the same.

"No," Bailey whispered, her voice suddenly very different. "I don't want this....stop."

Surprisingly, Barton did, mid stroke. But he didn't withdraw, he just waited. A moment, drawn out into an eon of held breaths.

Bailey sighed, "No, don't, stop." Then she shuddered. "No, don't stop." Same words, an altogether different meaning. Still Barton didn't move, so still that he looked frozen in mid fuck. We all know what he was waiting for; Bailey knew what he was waiting for.

The word came from her reluctantly, as if torn from her throat;

"Pl.......plea....please don't stop." She was crying as she spoke.

Barton finally deigned to address her, hissing his words spitefully. "'Please don't stop' what, Miss High and Mighty?"

"Don't stop f..fucking me," Bailey gasped. After another hour long second of silence another of her defensive walls gave way. "Please don't stop fucking me."

Barton twitched his hips and my sister exhaled the faintest sibilant sound, 'yessssss'.

"What do you want bitch?" Barton bellowed.

"I want you to fuck me - please." Now the pleading, the need, was nakedly apparent in Bailey's voice.

Barton slapped her arse once, hard. Then again, harder, leaving red hand prints.

"In that case you better ask properly." He ordered

The citadel where Bailey's defended her bitchy persona lived was falling. The emotional walls she had built so high, for so long, were collapsing. The mental gate she had locked, to keep in her true inclinations, was being smashed open by a battering ram of a cock. The only thing to do was haul down the flag and signal her surrender.

"Please fuck me...............Sir."

Barton relented, slightly, and shoved his cock all the way into the newly compliant Bailey, making her gasp with pleasure. It was a new pleasure she was experiencing, the joy of surrendering, of submitting. Her gasps turned to groans and grunts as Barton set to giving her the fucking of her (new) life. His hips were slapping against her buttocks as his pace increased. His face turned red and sweat dripped from his forehead onto Bailey's back as he took her. It as if he was on a mission, performing a task rather than doing something inherently pleasurable. He had declared he was going to my sister a 'fucking like she never had' and it seemed he was determined to do exactly that. And it was Bailey who was reaping the rewards of his dedication to this goal.

By now she was barely coherent beneath his remorseless onslaught. She was growling and crying out, reduced to an almost primal, animal state in her newly discovered submissive mind-state. The approaching climax of this scene, and of its participants, was obviously not far off. The tension spread to those watching and it was if everyone was holding their breath, waiting.

Barton started to lose his impassivity, his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open as he started to vocalize -- guttural 'uuhs' with each thrust of prodigious cock. Bailey, in the depths of her abandonment, noticed the change and started to match his noises with her own excited cries of 'yess' each time he pounded into her. 

Their mutual climax came over them suddenly. Bailey screamed and began to shudder and twitch. For a moment I was worried she would break her bonds as she strained. Barton threw his head back and bellowed like a bull, evidently filling the orgasming woman under him with a full load from both balls. 

They seemed to remain fused together for an age. Then everyone relaxed. Barton rocked back on his heels and almost staggered, unsteady as a boxer hit by a knock-out punch, before gathering himself. Bailey's tension uncoiled and she sagged in her bindings, although still trembling. Barton's cock uncoupled from her as he wobbled and almost immediately a gush of semen oozed from her gaping cunt. Everyone watching seemed to breathe out at the same moment, with an audible exhalation.

Barton pulled his trousers halfway up and collapsed into a nearby chair. Bailey slowly raised her head and looked by over her shoulder at him.

"Thank you, Sir." She said quietly, demurely. Then her expression changed a little, and the old Bailey seemed to come back for a second. In a louder voice she declared. 

"I still want more cock." Then she seemed to remember herself and her new persona.

"Won't someone else fuck me......please?"

After a second of stunned silence there was a sudden, brief, slightly unseemly scrum of men shoving and elbowing to form a queue. I smiled when I noticed Adam had used all his old rugby skills to ensure he was first in the line.

I turned away from the scuffle and found a chair for myself. Mary came towards me and gracefully sank to her knees at my feet. I saw her glance at Kat and almost smiled when the young girl seemed to read her mind and joined us at the other side of my chair.

I looked down at Mary, still gracefully made up and attired, kneeling with eyes downcast. In comparison Kat showed the signs of her treatment. Breasts and nipples still red from the clamps and wax. Her thighs striped were I had caned her. I knew her buttocks would also show slightly less fresh stripes. Despite this she seemed to glow with contentment. She looked up at me and then noticed Mary's demeanor and sought to emulate her by dropping her gaze. I raised her face to mine again, gentle fingers beneath her chin. I smiled at her and was rewarded with a beaming, blushing smile in return. 

This girl could have resented me for the treatment she had received as a result of serving me, but what I could see in her expression was the radiance of satisfaction known only to one who has submitted and triumphed as a result. Underlying this I could also detect the smoldering heat of her desire. As I turned my hand and brushed the back of my fingers over her cheek I felt an overwhelming rush of desire. My cock hardened immediately, noticeably tenting the front of my tuxedo trousers. I saw Kat's eyes widen and her hand flutter, reaching for my erection in what I was sure was an unconscious reaction. Then she caught herself, brought her instincts under control and drew back, awaiting my instruction. Smiling, I leaned back in the chair and gestured for her to continue.

With trembling hands she began to fumble clumsily with the buttons and zip. I noticed Mary watching Kat intently and saw that her hands were moving as well; perhaps just as unconscious of what she was doing. Eager to help, but holding herself back, even more aware than the younger woman that she should wait for orders. 

Kat finally managed to release my cock and it sprung to attention in front of her. I loved how wide her eyes went when she saw it as her hands reached out to enfold my shaft.

"Suck my cock Kat," I whispered, "suck me."

As she leaned forward, on her knees, hands out as if in supplication, it struck me how much she resembled someone in the attitude of reverential prayer. And the sensations of that first contact were so intense that it brought me to a state of almost religious ecstasy. The delicate, pink tip of Kat's tongue sought out the shining pearl of pre-cum that was ready for her to taste. We moaned at the same time -- she as her head bobbed down and I, as her lips partially engulfed me. I felt every muscle in my body tense in the most exquisite fashion and the breath hissed from my body. It wasn't the skill with which she sucked my cock that made it so pleasurable, it was the passion, the single-minded focus on giving pleasure that made this a world-class blow-job. This wasn't felatio, this was an act of worship.

Then I was suddenly reminded that Kat was still a beginner in the cock-sucking stakes. Perhaps carried away with the encouraging sounds I had been making, she tried to swallow even more of me and the head of my cock bumped against the back of her throat and triggered her gag-relax. She pulled back, coughing and spluttering, eyes full of tears and apologies. Fortunately this novice had a mother superior on hand to come to her assistance.

Mary stroked Kat's hair tenderly and then risked a look at me. "Would you like me to show her how Bastion?"

I paused to wonder if I had ever been asked a question that was more sexually exciting.

I nodded. 'Show her how I like my cock sucked Mary.'

Mary's red lips wrapped around my glans, and I sighed as she began to work her familiar oral magic.

Kat had regained her breath and brushed away her tears. Noticing this, Mary paused and took her mouth from my cock. She looked at Kat and began her lesson.

"Bastion has an especially sensitive spot, just here." Mary told Kat, and then located the exact place, just below the head of my cock, with a flick of her talented tongue. My shaft twitched. Mary grasped its length and offered it to Kat like a treat and suggested, "You try it."

She did -- and my balls tightened, making them both grin. "He also loves it when you swirl your tongue around his cock when you go down on him." She explained. "Like this."

I was reduced to moaning 'shhhhhhhitttttt' as she demonstrated what she meant to her attentive pupil.

Then she withdrew my cock from her mouth again, a long trail of saliva linking us for a second. 

"Of course' she continued, "like most men his favourite thing is deep throat." Taking her hand away from my shaft, her lips wrapped around me again and she easily swallowed my entire length in one gliding, intense swoop. As she came up she couldn't help but give Kat a slightly triumphant look.

"Needless to say, the way to get good at that is lots of practice" Mary told her. "Try and relax your throat" she added. I saw a look of determination cross Kat's face and she placed her mouth over my wet cock and tried for the same slow descent. 

Kat got her about two thirds of the way before I heard the first, small choking noise. Undaunted she pulled back a fraction and tried again. This time she managed three quarters of my prick before she paused. Mary glanced at me with a question in her eyes. Understanding her immediately I smiled, slightly cruelly, and nodded.

Mary placed her hand on the back of Kat's head and whispered in her ear, "Relax, as best you can dear girl." Then pushed down on her bobbing head. Kat started to choke almost immediately but Mary was gently implacable. She held Kat firmly until the last fraction of my cock was in her mouth. I heard the girl breathing urgently through her nose as my cock swelled in her mouth, then felt her relax. Knowing the lesson was learned, Mary moved her hand away. Kat moved her mouth slowly back up the column of my cock then, after a gulp of breath and the briefest pause, she opened her throat and swallowed me once again, then again -- and again; right down to the base each time

I saw a look of amazement cross Mary's face as she watched. Kat paused for a second and must have caught a trace of the older woman's expression because I saw the young girl's own brief smile at her achievement.

Before she started again I beckoned Mary forward. "I hope I can add to your education here?" I stood up, trousers open over my thighs. I took Mary's hair in one hand and raised her from her haunches until her face was level with my erection.

"I also enjoy giving a good, old fashioned skull-fuck now and again." I told the kneeling girl as I roughly shoved my prick into Mary's mouth. "When that happens just all you can do is hang on as best you can."

I grabbed the back of Mary's head, messing her elaborate coiffure, and began to fuck her mouth. Shocked by the suddenness of my actions she took a second to cope. But quickly she was into her stride and swallowing everything I was trying to bury in her mouth like the good sub slut she was. The wet, rhythmic noises of cock in mouth added to my pleasure. As did seeing Kat's wide eyed, wide mouthed fascination as she watched.

I looked at her. "Do you think you could cope with that girl? Would you like your mouth fucked like it was cunt?" Kat nodded with naïve enthusiasm and I pulled my cock from Mary's mouth. My hostess looked disheveled but still somehow serene, cheeks wet with saliva and pre-cum. She took my cock and proffered it to Kat. Looking up at me she said,

"Fuck her mouth Bastion. Use her, she wants, needs it -- just like I do."

I knew this about Kat before I started to fill her mouth with my cock and fuck it. She gagged and chocked, as I expected, but I kept going -- and so did she. I felt her lips on my pubic hair around the base of my cock, felt my balls on her chin. Then I gasped with pleasure as I felt her tongue moving as I thrust. She was remembering Mary's earlier tip and putting it into practice, in the midst of a savage skull fuck? Damn she was good! 




Tuition Ch. 06



I could see Mary was ready to hold Kat's head again if she tried to pull away, to force her to take my cock, but she wasn't needed.

I slowed down my thrusts and Mary took this as an invitation to take over. I felt my legs shaking and sank back into my chair. I let the woman compete for my cock, taking it in turns to suck and lick and swallow. Each time Kat took over she had learned something new from watching Mary. And when Mary took my cock back into her mouth she tired that little bit harder. It was a battle. Mary the experienced 'pro' versus Kat, the talented newcomer. And the effect on me was mind blowing. I had never had my cock sucked so well and I knew it would not be long before I came.

The women sensed it too -- and a new element entered their competition. They both wanted to be the one that made me orgasm, the one who received the reward (as they saw it) for their efforts, the one who got a mouthful of my cum. They were both now deep-throating my easily, sucking and licking my cock with sluttish abandon, almost humming with pleasure as they sought to give me release. I was in a new world of pleasure almost delirious as their contrasting styles teased and tantalized me, moaning continuously. They swapped my cock from mouth to mouth more and more quickly as they sensed my climax was becoming inevitable.

But like all good teachers, Mary hadn't taught her pupil all the secrets of her art in one go. She also had the advantage of being able to read my sighs and moans with long years of experience. When she had my cock back in her mouth she brought up her perfectly manicured fingernails to my balls and gently tickled them.

That little bit of insider knowledge, that extra stimulus triggered an orgasm so intense I almost passed out. I arched my spine, arms flung back and rose part way out of the chair, with Mary's mouth still clamped to my cock -- determined to drain me entirely. Each pulse, each spurt of my orgasm felt like a pleasurable electric shock. I was probably babbling incoherently, but I didn't care. I was having an almost out of body experience as I had the orgasm of a life time.

Gradually, after an eternity and an instant, I collapsed back in the chair, feeling as boneless as a filleted fish. Slowly I regained my senses and my breath, and was able to take in the tableau before me. Kat looked disappointed that I hadn't come in her mouth. I could tell from the way Mary kept her lips pressed firmly together that she hadn't swallowed my sperm. I looked at her and could tell that she was waiting for me to recover from the intensity of my orgasm. I started to wonder what she was up to.

When she was sure I was watching she straightened up, lifting herself up slightly from her kneeling position until she hovered over Kat. Then she gently cupped Kat's face with both hands and tilted her head back, opening the unresisting girl's mouth with her thumbs. Then I gasped as she slowly began to trickle my cum, that she had not swallowed, into the young maid's mouth. Mixed with Mary's saliva it was quite a load. Kat accepted it willingly, eagerly, eyes closed, moaning with pleasure. Mary moved her head slightly so the mixture of my fluids and hers anointed Kat, covering her forehead, eyelids and cheeks before licking it off. Kat's eyes opened and they seemed to radiate. She grabbed Mary with one hand and began to passionately kiss her. I watched their tongues entwine, sharing the salty host that I had offered them. 

I couldn't help wondering if Kat understood the true significance of Mary's impromptu benediction, or even if Mary had even acted consciously. But it made me think long and hard as I watched the most arousing thing I had seen in a long life of arousing experiences.



Tuition Ch. 07



~ Kat ~

If there was ever a few moments in my life that I would wish committed to memory – to be able to draw upon in the hopefully long stretch of my life – this was one of a top ten that had all been borne from this house.  

Our beginnings had been rough; though more so with Alice, Mary had been at loggerheads from day one with that one, but I too had been naïve in my assumption of her.  But then, I had been naïve in a great deal before I stepped through the magnificent arched entrance, in my demure looking jeans and black shirt.  How things so swiftly and irrevocably change with knowledge and enlightenment such as this.

As my tongue danced with Mary’s, I relished it all.  She tasted of sweet mint, and of him, and the combination was heady.  I settled one knee between hers as we knelt, my fingers drifting through her thick dark hair I gave my thanks.  Not just for this night, but for every strict dictate, for every line she had drawn with her words that had led me here.

Our kisses softer now, I shifted, aiming to relieve the pain to the front of my thighs, only to wince as the skin at the back burned just to add to it.  The evening was catching up with me, but I was damned if I was going to let it take me away from this.  It was the sound of Bailey being gagged with cock that made us break apart and look curiously behind us.  I could feel my jaw slacken.  It seemed the cross could support the weight of a few people at least.  

One gentleman had positioned themselves beneath her bound body and was driving a thick length of very white cock into her cunt, using the many bars of the cross as a decent foot hold while another was filling her mouth – almost gently – as though he enjoyed the view of it sinking deep into her mouth again and again more than fucking it.  But it was the sight of Adam, his legs straddling those of the man beneath Bailey, that held my curious gaze.

His cock, glistening with what I could only assume was a mixture of Bailey’s copious excitement and the remnants of Barton’s spending, was level with her cunt, and taking it in turns with the pale cock, sliding against it, contending for space with incredible ease.  I had seen a fair number of these scenes in the few videos I had downloaded in the past few years, but none of them held a candle to seeing it in real life.  To be kneeling, watching the slide of thick, hard male flesh into one person, filling them passed the point of natural fullness in every available opening.

I felt Mary’s lips connect lightly with mine once more, before trailing over my jaw and down to my neck.  Such softness after all I had experienced was a shock to my system, my overly sensitized skin tingling with every movement until I could barely repress a moan.  I leant into her, desperate for her to continue, to never stop.  My body still ached from the crop, my clit didn’t know whether to be scandalously abused or courageously begging for more by the way it throbbed between my legs, and when one long digit slipped lightly against it, I no longer cared which.  Both melded into a disorganized array of pleasure and pain with each deliberate gentle swipe until my knee was rocking against her own heat in time to her ministrations.

Suddenly, she left me there, boneless as she rose with a grace I envied at that moment and moved to the ornate chair to the Earl’s right.  She sat, her shapely legs crossed, her face serene and pale, contrasting sharply with how I thought I looked.  I could feel the heat in my body spread out as arousal still consumed me, my hair was long since loose and dancing around my shoulders in waves I longed to pin back, and she sat, beautifully controlled, even in her new disarray.  I could not help but admire her.  She smiled, and rested her hands along the curved armrests.

“Crawl to me.”  She ordered softly.  I looked to the Earl, who was watching with interest – keen interest if the thickening of his cock so swiftly after his orgasm were anything to go by.  He motioned me to move, with a light flick of his fingers.

I moved slowly at first, the ache in my legs bringing a sting to my eyes which I ignored and let my palms meet the floor.  I could have crawled woodenly towards her, as I had seen Alice do to the guests a great deal this night, but the boredom and reticence in my French colleague’s manner did not appeal – since I was anything but bored and reticent.  He was watching me, I could feel it, from the length of my hair shielding my expression from him, my breasts, heavy and nipple-puckered, he watched the sway in my hips as I crawled over the black marble towards his housekeeper, each movement no doubt highlighting the evidence of my own arousal as I could feel it liberally coat the insides of my thighs.  

Reaching my quarry, I watched her stocking-clad legs elegantly unfold as I approached before lifting and hooking over the curved armrests, fitting perfectly in the smooth groove as though the chair were made for that specific purpose.  For all I knew, and had witnessed in this house so far, the antique chairs could well have been. 

Mary didn’t speak, only slowly lifted the hem of her dress to rest around her hips and moved her fingers through the sweet dampness I had helped create with my knee hard against her, and stroked her own clit as I watched.  I took in her expression, her calm demeanor still in full force even as she shuddered lightly.  I wanted her undone, I wanted her to moan as she had made me moan, I wanted her eyes shut, her head ground back with pleasure.  I wondered if my lack of experience would hinder me bringing her to orgasm, but I still wanted to try.  Besides, even though I had been lain prone beneath the ministrations of the headmistress on the table, blindfolded and bound, I had still been acutely aware of what her tongue had been doing to bring me so close, I knew what I had done to Alice that had brought her to moan and tremble, I wanted to give to Mary, what I had refused Bailey.

I caught her by surprise, waiting until she had blinked and glanced over to the sight of Bailey’s new conquerors before I moved forward silently.  I had her hands against her thighs and away from her teasing in an instant before I lowered my head and lightly brushed my lips along her slit.  I wouldn’t touch her clit, not straight away; the headmistress had held me in breathless awe waiting for that moment until the point where it was almost painful before she would take it against her lips and tongue.  Tracing around, and around in circles, I tasted the effects of her night’s play, teasing and tasting my way until I began to feel the muscles in her legs clench and relax, the pulse near her cunt began to flutter and a low moan escaped her lips.

I released her hands, and braced for them to delve into my hair, thankful when they did not.  I wanted free reign to do this, to learn this for now.  I peeked up at Mary, her hands gripping the upholstery behind her head, her face not so pale now held a pretty flush and lightly parted lips.  I let my fingers drift down to join my tongue, and spread her pink flesh until my tongue could dart inside.  I marveled at the anatomy before me, so sensitive to my play, to my breathing, and then finally to the slide of my fingers as I pushed two deep inside, and descended on her clit.  I twisted my digits upwards and brushed along the sensitive walls, finding the rough within the smooth and pressing, rubbing, rotating.  I cared not what men say about what does and does not exist, I cared only about finding out for myself, and when Mary’s hips rose abruptly in the chair, I knew at least I had found something worth rubbing against again.  I waited, teasing with my tongue only, around and around until she had stilled and released a sigh, before I repeated my action.  Mary gasped and rose once more, even my pressure to keep her where she was nearly failed, but my tongue was rewarded when she grew slick against my fingers.  

I could feel her quivering, inside; a feeling I had grown well acquainted with in my short time here within myself, and knew if I could just push her a little farther, she would come.  I could not help but smile privately.  Mary had known tricks, the tricks of bringing the Earl to orgasm in an instant, but I was a quick study too – and though my infernal curiosity had led to my capture in the library, it had also allowed me to indulge in numerous internet searches for porn that might actually succeed to arouse me.  It had one thing that I had not thought of trying in my lifetime, but now, with her bare and glistening before me, sharply on the edge I was desperate to make her fall from, I wanted to.  I kept up my slow teasing, timed my tongue reaching her clit and suckling, increasing the pressure against it until she was writhing against my mouth, her moans loud in my ears.  I twisted my fingers again, could feel her straddling that edge, her hips unconsciously trying to bring her the correct pressure, that right spot that would just make her shatter.

Lowering my head, I kept my fingers of one hand circling, harder and harder, the other hovering around her clit, and let my tongue circle the sensitive tissue of her arse in one hard sweep.  I jumped when she screamed, not quite anticipating the explosion waiting in the woman until she grabbed my head and her body clamped down hard around my fingers, convulsing repeatedly.  I allowed my fingers to stroke gently until Mary had calmed, her hold in my hair lessening to a degree where I could extract myself from her and shift back a little.

I did not shift far.  The heat at my back was astounding, I dared a glance over my shoulder and found him.  Though kneeling himself, I was sitting back on my heels and the Earl simply towered over me.  The smooth linen of his almost still crisp shirt brushed against my bare back, and I could feel his formal trousers were still open, his cock now no longer at simple half mast, it was a heated weight twitching against my spine, each breath of him moving me forward, then back to rest against it, trapping it between us.

Mary slipped from the chair, ever graceful, and moved silently on her knees towards me.  I was glad of the dimness of our corner now.  A number of people had taken to heart Mary’s announcement of dinner and had left, though some were swift to return, some still carrying their dinner napkins and wiping mouths of no doubt five star cuisine.  Mrs. Hiddleton had no doubt outdone herself along with the extra hired-in staff.  And yet the intrigue of this room, had them risking indigestion.  

I could understand the appeal.  Though now, with the intensity of the Earl at my back, touching my skin, I was terribly aware once more of my nakedness.  The Earl drew people to watch him even without knowing it.  His mere presence enough to catch their gaze, and now with him resting at my back, his muscles tense as Mary thanked my ministrations with a quick kiss, I was acutely aware that numerous eyes could soon watch our every move.  Alone, Mary and I, I felt we were nearly invisible.  Not so now.

I dropped my gaze, leaning away slightly; my hair shielding me a little as I fought the unnecessary shyness that made me tremble, and he followed me down.  The long, lean curve of his stomach molding itself to my spine, the weight of him bending me further until my hands were forced to meet with the marble once more, and his own settled, large and tanned right beside them.  His fingers brushed my pale ones, before he allowed them to travel up my arms, lightly drifting over my flesh in gentle patterns until he reached my shoulders.  There, he touched a little harder, his fingertips easing the tension from my body as I gave myself over to his touch.

His weight eased from my back as he worked lower, tracing the marks that had been placed there, by cane, by flogger, and then by crop, each risen welt screaming as his fingers brushed by, yet soothed by the coolness of his touch.  I was aware of Mary’s hands, brush my hair from my face before they both turned me over, positioning my almost languid limbs so my back connected with the marble, my legs spread about his trouser clad ones, and my head resting in the housekeeper’s lap.

He was a magnificent shadow looming in the candle light of our corner as he deftly undid his cufflinks and placed them on his chair, and rolled up his crisp white sleeves.  The tanned, hair-dusted flesh, drawing my attention as I realized that each time he had taken me, he had been near to fully clothed.  I hadn’t even seen his bared arms before.  The bunching of his thighs when he had taken me, had always been from behind, just feeling, never seeing.  This was, new…  My breathing grew short as I watched him begin to lean over me, could see the heat there, in his eyes and I tried to look anywhere but.  He was so close, everything about Bastion was overwhelming, to have him face you…

“Look at me Miss Soren.”  And I did, though not to his eyes, but to where his gaze was lingering, at his fingertips as he let them brush the slick insides of my thighs, such cool in contrast to my heat making me shiver as he finally touched me where I was aching.  Long fingers delved deep with no preamble, I watched two disappear into me and reemerge, the soaked digits offered to my lips to clean.  He took them away from me, and sank them into me once again, the gradual building rhythm of his hand, the edge of his palm, his thumb brushing my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading over me until I was moaning.  I didn’t care if they saw me now, I was lost.  My head was tilted back into Mary’s lap, the sensations the Earl bringing about in me in sharp contrast to the gentle stroking of Mary’s hand over my hair.  

Her whispered murmuring for me to relax were lost on me until I felt him push another finger, then another deep inside of me in swift succession.  I cried out, my hands leaving the floor to clutch at nothing – my natural response to push him away, to stop the pain from becoming worse as his rhythm never faltered – I refrained, I trusted.  I made my palms lie flat against the marble, my thighs release the tight hold on his hips I had not realized I had.  Onward he pressed, his four fingers stretching me, pushing me until I could accommodate him.  I could feel a fresh rush of arousal bloom when he slowed slightly, my tight pussy gushing in its acceptance.  I felt his final finger brace hard against my opening, the smallest on his hand, yet the hardest to take.  He did not relent, he pressed, more gently than he had before, slowly before he allowed me a little time to breathe.  Though he had stopped his progress, he had not stopped his touch, his free hand teased over my clit, coating it in my arousal before squeezing it gently.  Mary, her touch careful, was now caressing my breasts, my chest heaving against her hands as I danced along the finest edge of pleasure/pain he had enlightened me to.  My nipples puckered in the cool room and Mary’s tongue found them, laved at them until they glistened with her saliva and tingled a path of sensation straight to my cunt.

Over and over, she teased, he touched until I was almost ready to cry.  My soft moans had become louder with each gentle pass over my body and I ached to be finished.  

“Please, Sir…”  I whispered, my head once more falling, my back arching against his hand as they played with me.

“Shh, you will cum…but not until I am inside you.”

I nodded, numbly, wanting his cock, wanting to fulfill him in any way possible.  Bring him the pleasure he was causing in me.  I felt his hand move, but it was not as I had thought.  Surging forward, he pressed and pressed until his hand was deep within me, my cry of pain, swift becoming a pleasure filled scream as his mouth enclosed my clit in a savage tug.  My entire body shattered, clamping hard around the beginning of his wrist, his fist tensing and releasing within me with every shudder that overtook me.  I was boneless, bodiless, and utterly undone.  In gentle increments, I felt his hand leave me, empty, I was mildly panicked out of my sated stupor wondering if my cunt would ever recover, and it was to his quiet chuckle that I found my fingers touching, checking where he had been buried in me up to his pulse.  With a smile of my own, I relaxed against the floor and against Mary as she whispered wordless things to me and allowed my eyes to drift shut for a moment, assimilating all that had occurred.

I felt my awareness of my surroundings sharpen slowly, emerging from the fog of arousal that had held me in thrall.  My eyes opened, and caught his, seated back in his chair relaxed, sated, and mildly amused, his chin resting on the hand that had been buried in my body.  I broke from him, and flushed red.  Fuck, was I just simply wanton?  Every movement caught my gaze, each flare of the candles and shadows played along with the sounds and it felt like a feast spread before a famished soul.  My starved eyes had surveyed, absorbing every detail, enjoying the sight played out before us almost as much as those I had actively partaken in.

I silently wondered if I should be feeling shame.  My mother would have certainly said so, in fact, I am convinced the sight of me lying on the floor before a man I call Sir, welt-striped and sexually sated, would actually end her.  Sarah, well – I’ve been out with my sister many times where I have caught her doing a great number of similar things, though without the titles, obedience, and multiple partners.  

I lay there – aware and yet not, of Mary and Bastion’s near silent conversation – I thought back to my reluctance to tell Sarah about my situation here and pondered why.  These new experiences, perhaps something I wished to keep as my own a little while longer?  Did I fear her response?  That maybe, though for my sister as open sexually as she was, this may be one step too far.  Was I ashamed, really?  

No.  I was not ashamed.  I felt incredibly at peace with myself.  Even in the short while since I had escaped the purgatory that was my mother’s hold, I had not felt truly at ease.  Always as though nothing were tying me to the ground, the only stability I had was the conviction I had to earn enough money to begin my degree at Oxford.  And so, I had worked – hard, long hours until I had heard of this job – then everything changed.

I stuttered in my own mind…’Until I had heard of this job’…I heard of this job, by way of a little heart shaped post-it note in my sister’s handwriting left on the top of my laptop one morning after a night out at Zodiac. Which was my sister’s favorite club – a slightly more daring dance floor than most, and with a VIP section I had never ventured into, though I knew Sarah held a special black card which allowed her entry to this restricted area.

It had been one rare occasion when I had actually had more to drink than my sister, and she had to look after me for a change.  I had just finished packing the few belongings I had, and had moved them into Sarah’s flat while she was at work.  The silence of those walls were a relief after listening to my mother’s scathing words for hours once she had figured out I was leaving.  Although I had wanted nothing more than to curl up in my pajamas on Sarah’s sofa with a bottle of something guaranteed to lower me into oblivion with a movie, Sarah had thought differently.  

I had found myself less than two hours and a bottle of Jack Daniels later, dressed in one of my sister’s less scandalous outfits, dancing in the dark heat of Zodiac with a very attractive Polish bartender who’s extent of the English language appeared to be, ‘can I take you home?’.  My lack of interest, where there should have at least been – something – had later made me wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with me when the only thing that caught my attention that night was the hour my sister went missing from the dance floor and into the realm of the Zodiac VIP.




Tuition Ch. 07



Not for the first, nor last time, did I wonder just exactly what went on behind that heavy black door, though only now I was connecting the dots on Sarah’s question over coffee.

“Since you have had your proverbial cherry popped however, I hope I can interest you in a little sport at the club.”  Sarah snickered.  “Its not serious is it?”

“Well fuck me…”  I whispered under my breath.  I both cursed and inwardly laughed at my inability to put two and two together.  It was little wonder she had looked both happy and concerned when we were having lunch, I hadn’t misread her.  She knew what happened here!  She knew…why on earth did she send me?

I silently lifted my gaze from the reflections of debauchery on the floor and found, thankfully, that He was still looking to Mary in quiet discussion.  Had Sarah simply heard of this position through someone else, or had she been here?  She had been working so hard, studying to be a nurse that I had rarely seen her last summer…she could have…I sat and wondered over this.  Had the Earl seen my sister is just such a position, sprawled at his feet, the taste of his cum still fresh in both her memory and on her lips, her cunt aching from his touch?  Sarah, I have no doubt would have gloried under the attentions of both Wren and Adam, would have been enthusiastic about pleasing the Earl.

I shook my head at the tint of jealousy.  It would not have mattered had he fucked my sister.  If I had known that at the beginning, then maybe I would have left before my contract ended – but not now, now that I knew what was to be had, experienced, and realized.  I found myself lying there, wondering if her reactions were different to mine, she after all was the more adventurous, outgoing sibling.

Putting such ponderous thoughts of seeing my sister in an entirely new light away for the moment, I was caught by a new scene unfolding in the far away corner of the room.  Wren had not seemingly been so adept as his brother in getting to the front of the queue for Bailey. I knew enough of his moods now to see that he was getting impatient, his anger building like thunder clouds on a humid, summer afternoon. I saw his gaze drift towards the temporarily forgotten ‘reporter’.  He started circling the gagged and bound man in ever decreasing rings, swirling his drink around in a crystal glass, the captive’s eyes following him as much as his present predicament would allow him.  Enthralled by the sight of Wren circle his prey, I almost pouted when soft fingers turned my head away from the sight of them and distracted me with a kiss.



Tuition Ch. 08



As I sat and watched Kat and Mary I found myself having to consciously remind myself to breathe. I had thought that the eroticism of watching them swap my cum in a passionate kiss could not be surpassed. Then I saw Kat crawl towards Mary and begin eating my mother's pussy and I knew that I was wrong. The girl on her hands and knees radiated sexual heat like white hot metal in a forge. She glowed with a barely suppressed excitement. I could see that Mary was feeling it too, panting, her eyes hooded with lustful anticipation. 

Immediately I could tell that she was not to be disappointed. Kat had learned quickly her lessons in the Sapphic arts. She was obviously determined to give pleasure to Mary as if it were her only reason for existing - and the results were immediate. Mary's skin flushed, her hands went back behind her head to grasp the back of the chair in which she sat and her legs spread wider to facilitate the girl's access to her wetness. My cock hardened in a few moments, recovering a full erection more quickly than I could have imagined.

From my own experience I knew that Mary was easy to excite, but I had never seen her react so quickly. Kat's tongue and fingers were stirring her to a fever pitch in record time. Then I saw Kat's tongue slide over Mary's anus in what amounted to a surprise attack. The resulting orgasm startled me perhaps as much as it did Mary. As she screamed out her intense pleasure I couldn't help wondering where Kat had learned that trick. With her lack of experience I could only guess that it was purely and simply an instinct.

As Mary slowly came down from her orgasm and released Kat from the embrace of her thighs I found myself drawn to my feet. I opened my trousers as I approached the two women and knelt behind Kat. The first she knew of my presence was when my cock pressed between her shoulder blades. It was only then that I realised I had no plan of why I had moved, what I was doing there. I turned Kat over and she laid her head in Mary's lap. I looked at the stripes left by various tools of punishment, signs of her submission, and traced them with my fingers. Again it seemed to me that she glowed with an inner fire and I realised that she was proud, perhaps even subconsciously, that she wore my marks. Somehow they suited her, like they were medals, or badges of honour. I watched her eyes follow my hands as they stroked her.

Once she was arranged in front of me I was taken with an idea for testing her. Her cunt glistened between her splayed legs and my hands were drawn to it. Pausing only to roll up my sleeves I began to toy with her. I demanded that she look at me as I delved inside her with several fingers. She sucked them clean eagerly when I offered them to her mouth and gave herself over to the sensations as I returned to her wetness and inserted more fingers.

I wanted to get my whole hand inside Kat, as if to grasp at her very centre. I knew that with someone so young and virginal this would only happen if she relaxed completely, surrendered totally and utterly, wholeheartedly gave herself into my trust. It was a test worthy of this girl, one I knew she would pass before I even began.

Mary helped, teasing her breasts, as I implacably but gently worked my fist into her, whispering meaningless words of encouragement. I could see the mixture of pain and pleasure she was experiencing, flooding from her expressive eyes. But she didn't beg me to stop, she begged me to allow her to orgasm. I forbade her release until I had accomplished my aim. I wanted to her to continue learning that her orgasm was a now a reward for obeying, a gift that was mine alone to give, not something she could have as and when she pleased. She accepted this and before my eyes slid into a deeper 'zone' of submission, relaxing and breathing deeply until my hand passed completely inside her. 

To give her the sign that she should take her reward I leant forward and gently bit her straining clitoris. Her cry of pleasure was instantaneous and heart-felt. I felt my wrist being crushed by her pelvic muscles, rippling in orgasmic spasms.

Eventually I withdrew my hand and laughed out loud as I saw the intensity and completeness of her orgasm overwhelm her, leaving her in a boneless languor. Mary gently stroked her hair as Kat came down from a height that I envied her attaining.

I stood up, my legs a little shaky. I pulled up my trousers, not bothering to zip them up, leaving my shirt unbuttoned. Most of my guests were by now naked, or nearly so. Whilst I had been involved with the girl....Miss Soren.........Kat; I had been dimly aware that people had gathered round to watch. Now it seemed that our scene had acted like some sort of carnal earthquake, triggering a tsunami of lust. As I resumed my seat and Mary joined me once more I saw the ripples radiating out around me. Alice was busy again, on her knees, taking it in turns to suck an array of eager cocks that were being thrust at her face. From the noises behind me it seemed that Bailey was still entertaining the guests. I twisted around to look and noticed a few men joining the queue for her services; re-joining in some cases perhaps.

Mary smiled when she saw the direction of my glance. 'I think Bailey has well and truly found her "inner slut"', she commented. I laughed out loud at the thought.

'I'm glad my guests are enjoying the benefits of that discovery.' I told her. 'But I don't think she is naturally submissive, not like.......' I turned my gaze to where Kat still reclined, sated. 

She noticed my interest and lowered her eyes. I continued to stare at her, chin resting on my hand, savouring the delightful, heady scent of her excitement upon my skin.

Mary obviously found my thoughts all too easy to read. 'That one certainly is.......amazing.' she said, nodding towards Kat. She smiled at me and ventured. 'Something very special I think.' 

I frowned at her for a second, then smiled and showed my agreement, and amazement, with a smile.

I stood up, feeling that I had been neglecting my duties, perhaps ignoring my guests. But before turning to them I took the cushion from seat and passed it to Mary.

'Make...K...Miss Soren..comfortable. Get her a drink as well.' I instructed. 'You are relieved of other duties with our guests, for the time being.' 

Mary nodded understanding. Then she gently caught the maid's chin and moved her face to kiss her lips with delicate passion. After which she positioned the cushion for Kat's maximum comfort and gracefully rose to find her a drink.

Looking away I noticed that my cousin, Adam, appeared to have been watching the whole exchange with interest. For a moment we stared at each other, but I found his expression either completely blank, or impossible to read. I wondered to myself why his impassivity instantly seemed to irk me. Why was I bothered what he was thinking? I turned on my heel and stalked off.

I found Barton back at the bar, smiling broadly and looking very pleased with himself. I had him pour me a glass of champagne from newly opened bottle and began to 'circulate', chatting with those of my guests who were not otherwise too engaged in carnal activity. 

I noticed with an amazed smile that Wren, having been forced to the back of the queue for Bailey's favours, had decided to take advantage of the reporter. The guy had been strapped down like my sister and forgotten, at least until Wren had taken an interest. Now his trousers were down over his hips and Wren was enthusiastically buggering him. The surprising think was that the reporter seemed to be just as enthusiastic about taking it as Wren was about giving; judging from his groans and yelps. It seemed that he was grateful that he hadn't 'made his excuses and left', in the supposed tradition of the tabloid press.

My route took me gradually to where Bailey remained bound – the centre of most attention. It was hardly surprising people were looking on. She was still strapped to the cross, wearing only her high leather boots legs, bound and splayed wide open. I assumed that every man at the party had fucked her, at least once - and cum in her. In fact it seemed that she had worn them out, as she was currently 'unoccupied'. Her pussy was gaping and dripping a constant stream of sperm – a sight I found very arousing. I felt my cock start to harden, despite having cum several times in the recent past.

I prowled round to the front of the cross and raised it so Bailey's face was close to mine. She looked at me and smiled the faintest of smiles. But it was a natural smile, the one I remembered from a long time in the past, in the happier past.

'Hello bro.' she greeted me quietly. Then her smile broadened before she added, 'You throw a hell of a party you know.' 

I smiled back at her at the same time as I felt tears prickle in my eyes. 'How long was it since we had exchanged pleasant words?' I wondered to myself. 'And why does it have to happen in such unusal circumstance?'

'I am glad you are enjoying it Bay.' I told her, using my pet name for her from our childhood. 'I have to say that, after a somewhat shaky start, you are helping it go with a bang.'

She managed a laugh at that. Then I saw her eyes reveal her thoughts, thinking back over how she had contributed to the fun – albeit unwillingly at first. I could see her pupils dilate and her breathing quicken as the magnitude of what had happened stuck home.

'Oh fuck me Jesus, that was fun Bastion.' Then she laughed out loud. 'I never had an orgasm before they did ......that to me. I suppose I should thank you?' I shrugged.

'I suppose I should apologise as well?' she asked. I ignored her question, not prepared to confront that issue at that moment.

I took hold of one of the buckles and said, 'Since you seem to have drained the balls of all my guests I suppose I should release you?'

She gave a little moue of disappointment. 'Is the fun over so quickly?' she asked. She craned her neck as best she could to look around. 'Are you sure they are all worn out Bastion?' she wheedled. 

'Are you all worn out Baz?' she, this time in a 'little girl' voice. Using the name she called me when she was little, when 'Bastion' was too big a word, doubled the kinky kick her words gave me.

The smouldering look she gave me just then made it clear I hadn't misunderstood her words.

Then she was talking like an adult again, a horny submissive adult. 

'I'm not sure I've fully learned my lesson yet Sir.' She suggested. 'I think I deserve more punishment, more fucking for my crimes.'

Her words affected me in several ways. At a basic level they were very arousing. My sister was begging me to fuck her, bound and helpless after a gang bang, she still wanted her brother's cock. But it struck me that part of this was Bailey still trying to set the agenda and get things her way. Except now she was trying to 'top from the bottom'.

I stroked her face with my fingers tips as I leaned my face closer to hers. My lips brushed hers and she gasped. She tried to kiss me, her tongue eagerly seeking my mine, but I pulled back. Then my mouth nuzzled her ear and I whispered.

'Be careful what you wish for sis.'

Moving back, out of her line of sight, I went to the 'toy box' and selected a leather 'cat'. I didn't count, but it seemed to have at least nine long 'tails'. I stood behind Bailey and stroked the lengths of leather through my fist as I thought about what was to come. I debated bring the flogger down without warning on her back. But I decided to ratchet up the tension.

I let the tips of the tails trail across Bailey's deliciously white back. At the first touch she flinched and tried to look back over her shoulder at me. She tried to smile, choked on a laugh, as if to say, 'you're joking – right?' My impassive face gave her the message I wasn't. She started to look nervous.

And she also started to gabble. 'When I said...that, when I said I needed "more", I meant more, you know....more fucking. Not more....' 

Her words trailed off as I lifted the flogger and the lashes rested on my shoulder. She begged me with her eyes and I had to harden my heart – before I brought the flogger down on her back.

Bailey shrieked as the lashes bit. I hadn't done it very hard, not to such a novice – but she bellowed theatrically. The next strokes produced a similar overblown reaction. I found it annoying and decided to give her something to scream about. 

The next couple of slashes fell on the more sensitive area -buttocks and the tops of her thighs. Now she was really crying and begging for me to stop – which made me less inclined so to do.

Her noise had also attracted the attention of my guests and they started to gather around us. Normally I would have found this a little off-putting. I had never been particularly keen to 'perform' I front of an audience. But this felt different. Bailey had tried to humiliate me earlier, had planned to ruin me. So this was definitely different – this was personal. I felt an urgent need to demonstrate – as publicly as possible – Bailey's complete submission to me. And - apart from anything else – it was turning me on enormously to flog my sister whilst others watched. 

My cock was fully hard as the leather kissed her flesh and she writhed in the straps. Lots of practice with the flogger was put to good use now. The tips of the tails found tender spots and made her scream so deliciously. Then I switched target and concentrated on her defenceless cunt. The flogger splashed in the jism that still dripped from her. Now, wet with cum, the lashes were heavier, hurting more.

With a major effort of will I stopped myself from delivering another blow. Bailey's cries had changed in the last moments to ones that indicated 'real' distress. I took a couple of deep, rasping breaths to try and slow my racing heart. I slowly and carefully put the flogger down across Bailey's heaving, red streaked back. I heard her sobbing slow as she understood that this meant one form of punishment had finished – at least for now. I reminded myself of one of my core beliefs – 'you might be a sadist, but you aren't cruel with it.'

I didn't look at the people surrounding us as I moved behind Bailey, between her legs. My cock was already protruding from unzipped trousers, pointing the way. I considered my options and decided to take my sister's arse. I am not averse to occasionally indulging in the pleasures of an 'iced bun'. Fucking a just spunked pussy can be an especial delight. But this particular 'bun' was just a little too well 'iced' for my liking.

I placed my cock head against my sister's anus, pressed it forward a fraction of an inch, and paused. I heard Bailey take a breath, preparing to speak. I touched the handle of the flogger and she felt it move.

'Where you going to say something Bailey?' I asked, in a louder than usual voice

'No.....(I pushed my cock in a little further)...Sir!' she answered.

Bearing in mind what Wren had told me about Bailey, I was guessing this was her first anal fucking. The tightness I felt seemed to confirm my assumption. So I showed her the consideration I would have given any anal 'virgin'. A sadist, but not cruel. I went slowly, but remorselessly. I skewered my sister's arse with my cock until I was all the way in and she was panting as she learned to cope with the pain and the new sensation of having her bowels full of prick.

When Bailey started to enjoy herself I was surprised – and I wasn't surprised. My sister was living up to the one prediction you could make about her, she was impossible to predict. I felt her sphincter relax as I pushed my cock all the way into her arse with a twitch of my hips. It felt like his was the final submission. Buggery always seemed to me to be the ultimate dominant act. It was taboo and unnatural and just plain dirty. Now my sister was accepting my cock in her arse, signalling her total physical and emotional surrender to me by doing this.

Then she wasn't just 'accepting', she was welcoming. As much as she could within her restraints she was rocking her buttocks back to meet my thrusts. If it were possible, my cock was going even deeper as she sighed and moaned her pleasure.

'Oh Bastion, of Bast.....that is soooo good. Fuck my arse, fuck it harder, do me Bastion.' Then she gasped and shook as a mini orgasm gripped her.

'I'm such a dirty slut.' She cried, like a damned soul lost in torment. 'My brother is fucking my arse....and.....and....I LOVE it!!'

I increased my pace, fucking her harder and deeper whilst demanding. 'Whose slut are you Bailey? Whose dirty slut?'

'Yours Sir, your dirty cum filled whore Bastion. You own me brother – just keep fucking me.'

As much as we both might have wanted that, it was impossible. The intensity of the scene, the emotional impact of the words was enough to trigger an orgasm for both of us.

With a long, hoarse exhalation of breath I emptied my balls into Bailey and she came, wailing. Her convulsing muscles expelled a load of mixed cum over my shaking thighs before I stepped back.

As I turned away from my sister all my post-orgasm bliss was washed away when I caught sight of Kat. She was standing now, beside Mary. Her expression was impossible to read in the second I saw it before she dropped her gaze. She had obviously watched everything that had just taken place. Suddenly I felt............I felt dirty. This feeling made me boil up with emotions. I felt anger, and disgust and..........many other feelings that perhaps I couldn't identify, let alone name.

I turned my back on the girl and zipped up my trousers. I pulled my shirt straight and did up some of the buttons. Without looking I shouted over my shoulder – 'Mary!'

When my mother was by my side I issued orders – without looking at her. 'I'm going to bed now. You and Barton will take care of the guests for me. Bailey will stay on the cross till the last guest has left.' Then I risked a glance at her. 

'Arrange for.......the girl..to be washed and dressed. Pick something for her to wear. Send her up to my room in an hour.'

I see the shock in her eyes. From my father's time – and before – no servant other than Mary was permitted in the Master bedroom.

I cut her off before she can speak – if she intended to speak. Harshly I ordered: 'Say nothing. Just obey.'

Then I left my own party without another word to any person.



Tuition Ch. 09



HIM

Back in my room I stripped as quickly as possible, leaving my clothes where they fell. I was almost overwhelmed by a compulsion to get clean. I took a very long, very hot shower and I turned the taps all the way on; the temperature reddened my skin and the water stung my scalp like liquid needles. Then I scrubbed myself as if I was trying to shed my skin. When my thoughts about the evenings events threatened to engulf my mind I turned the hot water off and stood masochistically under the freezing cascade until I shivered and my teeth chattered.

Only with the water off, and when the friction of a towel was returning warmth to my body, did I try to analyse my thoughts and, hard to believe, my feelings. Why did a feel so........unclean? The party had been a huge success, eventually, I was sure of that. A bullet had been dodged when the undercover reporter had been discovered. There would now be no fallout over that. Then I turned over in my mind the thoughts I realised I had been trying to avoid.

Firstly I had discovered in the past few hours that Mary was my mother. My initial reaction had been joy as I realised that my father's cold and distant wife was not my mother. Since that moment I guess other emotions had started to seep up from the compost of my subconscious. I had lost my virginity with Mary, I had been fucking her since I was sixteen. That meant I was, literally, a 'motherfucker'. 

Then I thought how many times I had seen Mary 'serve' at my father's parties. I had seen her used many times, as a casual fuck-toy and cum dump. I'd seen her gang-banged like Alice had been this evening. But, unlike Alice, I knew Mary had genuinely enjoyed being treated that way. Many times I'd enjoyed sinking my cock into her well fucked cunt or arse (I'd always enjoyed that slippery feeling) and enjoyed the unmistakable sounds of her pleasure and the exquisite sensations of her orgasms as I added to the overflowing loads inside her.

So now I knew my mother was Mary, the kinky serving girl slut, not Estelle the frigid millionaire's daughter. How did that make me feel about Mary? How did that make me feel about ME?

'Confused' was the answer to my own question, so I put that subject in the 'too hard' basket and turned my thoughts to Bailey.

As I did this I had to face the aftermath of the fact that, not to put too much of a fine point on it, I had fucked my sister. I'd discovered that I had been fucking my mother for years, but only the two of us knew about that. But I had fucked my sister in front of a crowd, fucked her in the arse, claimed her as my whore, made her proclaim her whoredom to everyone in the room. But, being ruthlessly honest with myself, I realised that this wasn't the problem. Definitions of 'normal' within my circle of friends were on a completely different plane to the average person. I guessed that my guests were so used to kink that they wouldn't be judgemental. They all had too many foibles of their own to do that. They were more likely to be shocked because it was out of character for me to be so public at a party, rather than be shocked that it was with my sister.

I had to face the facts. I was not troubled because I had fucked my sister, well not too much. I felt sullied and dirty and wrong because Kat had seen me fuck my sister. Why was that a problem? I didn't know the answer to my own question.

Kat -- was she the problem?

Then all these thoughts were driven from my mind by a timid knock at my door

HER

As Bastion swept from the room where the party had been held I felt dazed by what I had just witnessed. The whole evening had been like something out of a fever dream for me. But what Bastion had just done to Bailey had left me without the mental capacity to process my emotions. I looked around at the guests to see if they were as shocked as me. With the host having left so precipitously it was obvious that the party was over and everyone was making ready to leave, gathering clothes and dressing. As they did so I was surprised that their smiles, laughter and the buzz of happy conversation seemed to indicate that they had all had a good time. It certainly didn't seem they were shocked by what had happened. I almost felt like they, or I, were part of a different species if our reactions could be at such variance.

I knelt on my cushion beside Mary as one by one the guests stopped to thank her before they left. I risked the occasional glance at them and was shocked to recognise some of them from TV and politics. I was also shocked at the genuine enthusiasm in their thanks. Nearly every one of them told Mary how it had been the best party 'for years'. The cabinet minister I recognised rushed on to explain that they were all fun, but that this one had been 'special'. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The 'Formula One Guy' (as I thought of him), whose face was familiar from previous appearances in the press, was effusive in his thanks, even though he had nearly been in the tabloid papers all over again. These people had seen a man flog, then fuck, his sister - and they were saying how much they looked forward to the next party? These people weren't from another species -- they were from another fucking planet!

I saw the security guy getting instructions from Mary and shortly afterwards I saw him helping the reporter down from the 'sore horse', before escorting him from the premises. The reporter walked ever so tentatively, limping slowly. Then Mary signalled to Barton to take over and clear the last guests. She took me by the hand and gently pulled me to my feet.

"Now we need to take care of you child." She said with a gentle smile. Without releasing my hand she led me up a flight of stairs and down a short corridor. The room we entered was a large and beautifully decorated bedroom. She opened another door to reveal a luxurious bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up quickly dear." She said. "It wouldn't do to keep our Lord waiting now would it?" 

She turned away to start the huge shower, adjusting the heat. I noticed the change of terminology now that the party was over. 'Bastion' was once again 'Lord La Motte' again, our joint Lord and Master. It was funny how that thought no longer seemed strange to me, how quickly I was adjusting and accepting.

When the shower was the correct temperature she came back to my side, looking me up and down in a way that made me blush. She laughed at my reaction and fluffed my hair with her fingers as she explained, 

"Just seeing what needs doing dear, not much time." Then she added. "Your hair is fine, which is lucky as we don't have time to wash and dry it." Then she made me jump by brushing her hands over my breasts, gently touching the angry red marks left by the candle wax. She examined them with a look of sympathy.

"Bailey can be such a bitch." She stated sadly, then smiled, "but maybe she'll be different from now on." I didn't know what to say to that.

Bending forwards she examined the stripes on my thighs. Delicately tracing the lines with her finger tips, causing goose-bumps in profusion. Then she smiled at me.

"You must be so proud of such lovely stripes." The way she phrased it I couldn't be sure if it was a question or a statement. She must have seen the puzzlement on my face as she added

"Proud because you took them so well, that you didn't let your Master down. They are a badge of honour for any good submissive. And I know that you are a good submissive." Then she closed her eyes and shivered as she recalled what happened. I could hear the capital letters in her voice when she spoke of Bastion.

"Plus it was so delicious to see you, hear you, cum when He cropped your clit. I know that will have pleased Him.'

I was shocked at this thought, and at the same time strangely pleased.

"Do you really think so?" I asked.

"Oh, I am sure of it." She assured me. "Now jump in the shower, hurry. Don't get your hair wet."

I stepped into the shower cubicle and luxuriated under the steaming water, eyes closed -- until the welts on my legs started to sting. I bit my lip to stifle a sob -- then forgot my pain as I felt Mary, naked now, get into the shower with my and wrap her arms around me. My eyes flew open and I saw her smiling at me.

"Four hands will get you clean quicker than two." She told me and kissed me gently on the lips. The electricity that flashed between us was startling and I heard a moan -- I couldn't tell if it came from her or me. With an effort one of us pulled out of the kiss and Mary took soap and a sponge and began to clean me delightfully, taking care to be as gentle as possible with my 'badges of honour'. 

The lash stripes on my back barely hurt anymore but the crop marks on my thighs stung. Mary distracted me once again by gently yet unexpectedly running her finger tips over my pussy.

"We might be able to get away without washing your hair, but we must never skimp on this. He does like his sluts to have smooth cunts." It was peculiar that these words didn't sound dirty coming from Mary.

"Is that how you see yourself? Are you his 'slut' Mary?" I asked, scared I was being rude in asking.

She wasn't angry at my question. "Yes dear." She answered, without shame. 

"First and foremost that is what I am. I am also........many other things as well." She added, in a slightly strange voice. Then she steered me gently out of the shower's stream and knelt on the floor. On the rim around the shower was a can of shaving foam and a new razor. The white foam was squirted into her hand and when she smoothed it over my.....'cunt', (Mary had taught me the right term and it seemed appropriate to start using it,) 

I couldn't help whimpering when the razor's blade was dragged over my sensitive skin and I felt my thighs start shaking. Then a delicate finger pushed aside my labia for a caress of the blade and I felt my cunt flood with moistness. With exquisite care, or cruelty, Mary manoeuvred the hard nub of my clitoris out of harm's way or the last few efficient strokes of the razor.

She stood up and announced, "There you are, very ready for Master." The smile that played on her lips told me that she fully intended the single entendre. 

When I was dry (at least on the outside) she sat me in front of a well lit mirror and knelt before me to begin to expertly applying make-up. It was a master class in everything I had been doing wrong up till now. Her understated, 'less is more' technique enhanced my appearance till I was amazed at how different I looked, but even to the most critical observer it would appear that I was completely, 'au naturel'.

When the make up was finished she gently, ever so gently, rubbed cream into my stripes. I could see the sympathy in her eyes when I winced. Then she started to try and explain.

"You know that he isn't really cruel, it's just that he believes to the core of his being that traditions are important, that the rules must be obeyed. Even when he is the one who makes the rules, he can't even bend them' let alone break them......."

I gently (and boldly) laid my finger on Mary's lips and whispered the words that were already engraved on my heart, "I accept and submit."

As I spoke those words I saw the joyful tears well in her lovely eyes, at the same time as a tremulous smile swelled beneath my finger. She knew the source of those words, recognised my heartfelt acceptance of their meaning and wordlessly acknowledged our strange sisterhood by taking my hand and kissing it.

Mary dabbed her eyes and rose, seemingly effortlessly, from her knees to her feet in a way that made me envious. "Come, have a look at these."

She showed me some nightwear she had picked out for me. Laid on her bed were various frothy, lacy bits of nothing. I swear that one even had marabou feathers. Mary was about the same size as me, if a little less busty, so I was sure they would fit, but I just didn't like much of what I saw. I did see a lovely pair of white lace knickers which I slipped on quickly, making me feel a little more comfortable in front of Mary. After all we had done together it was strange that I felt shy, but I couldn't help it that modesty was so deeply ingrained in my psyche.

Then I noticed something hanging in her wardrobe and, feeling suddenly bold, I stepped past her and took the simple cream coloured gown from its hanger. I held it against me and felt the luxury of the silk on my skin, making me shiver. A wordless question was asked with a glance and answered in the affirmative with a barely perceptible nod. I slipped the gown over my head and it slithered sensuously over my body.

I turned to study myself in the mirror and was pleased with the image reflected. The hem trailed on the floor but the material clung to my body all the way down, just transparent enough without being too revealing. Despite the Grecian cut neckline my breasts strained against the material and rubbed my nipples to a tantalising hardness. In the mirror I could see Mary behind me, nodding her head.

"Yes child, that is perfect. He will love that." She laughed. "It seems you already know what He wants better than I do." 

I could hear the tinge of sadness in her voice, and her laugh, and I impulsively turned to hug the older woman. For a second she made as if to push me away, then sighed and took me her in her arms. With a hand gently against my cheek she drew me to her breast for an instant. Then she stepped back and cradled my face between both hands, studying me. 

"Yes, you will do."

She kissed me on the forehead, nose, and lips. Then she took my hand, announcing.

"We mustn't keep our Master waiting." Then with an enigmatic smile she took my hand and added. "Let me lead you to his 'lair'. There you will enter uncharted territory alone"

I wondered at her words all the way to an imposingly large door. Mary indicated that it was my destination with an inclination of her head. With my knees literally knocking I approached the door and, not knowing what else to do, I knocked.

HIM

I opened the door to reveal a frozen tableau. Kat stood in front of my looking delectable but at the same time like a defenceless creature caught in the glare of oncoming headlights. I found the mixture of fear and nervousness visible on her face strangely arousing. Then, after sensing Kat's immobility, Mary gently pushed her in the middle of the back and the girl stepped into the room. Over her shoulder Mary gave me an unreadable smile and turned to retreat down the hall.

I stepped back into my room and Kat followed me, tentatively. The light from the hall lit her from behind and I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight. Her floor length gown was transparent in the glow, emphasising the lush, flowing curves of her body. Her breasts swayed intoxicatingly beneath the thin material, her nipples hard and obvious points. Under the gown I could discern panties, adding a lovely touch of mystery to the ensemble. With a nimbus of light around her she appeared like the proffered sacrifice of some pagan rite, as imagined by Bernardo Bertolucci. And even the most demanding of Gods would have been satisfied with this offering.

I was so staggered by her loveliness that I was almost as tongue tied and uncertain as a teenager. I found myself taking one hand in mine and stroking her face with the other. Wordlessly, unable to think of a coherent thing to say I lead her to my bed. Looking at her as I walked I managed to trip over a floor rug and ended up falling on to the bed with underneath me.

And then we kissed.

I was startled, at first, suddenly realising this was the first time I had kissed her. Then I wondered when I had last kissed anyone like this. Then I gave up on all rational thought and felt myself fall into the warm, wet, delicious pleasures of a full-on, old-fashioned snog; there was no other word for it. It was everything I remembered the best kisses being -- and more. 

Our lips met and our tongues explored, delicately duelling at first, then meshing and entwining, before disengaging -- but only for the briefest of moments. The sensations were too exquisite to desist from them for long. Even the clumsy moments, when teeth met or noses bumped were part of the delightful dance. I was sure she could feel the smile on my lips as we kissed and I felt myself harden as our mutual passion rose. I heard the catch in her breath as I pulled her tight to me. I revelled in the rising moans in her throat as our kisses became more urgent and demanding. 

Breaking away for a second I tried to gather my thoughts, tried to think of an order to give. Then I felt her hand on my thigh. 



Tuition Ch. 10



HER

After I knocked I was so nervous I thought about turning and running. I might have, had Mary not been behind me. Happily he didn't keep me waiting long. The door opened, and my gaze met his shoes. 

I was frozen until I felt Mary's hand on my back, gently urging me forward. He stepped backwards, not turning, just walking back. I followed, almost stumbling, matching his slow pace, eyes downcast, every muscle in my body tense. I nearly jumped when he took my hand, but at the same time I felt some of my tension begin to go.

I could tell that, confident in his control, he felt no need to speak. Effortlessly he grabbed me and pushed me down onto the bed, covering my body with his.

And then we kissed

I might have thought, in the past, that my mind had gone blank. It genuinely did at this point. Anything that happened in the next few delightful moments or minutes (or months) happened by pure instinct.

So I blamed instinct for what happened next. When he stopped kissing and rolled onto his back I impulsively reached out my hand for the thing I most wanted in that instant, the thing I craved above all else -- his cock. When my hand touched his shaft I felt it twitch in my grasp, warm, alive, huge and hard. I shivered and my cunt gushed as I held it. I waited for the merest instant for him to indicate I was transgressing and then I threw caution to the wind. I decided I was going to suck his cock; that I was going to give him the best blow-job I was capable of. 

This man had proved for himself that I had been 'virgin intactus' when he took me on the library desk. But whilst I had (perhaps naively) been 'saving myself' for 'Mr Right' I was not totally ignorant about the mechanics of sex, specifically oral sex. 

I'd read some of the more explicit romance novels, I'd done some almost academic reading about what was expected and required. I'd heard my girlfriends and my sister (especially my sister) discussing their exploits in lurid details. On top of all this I'd found myself unaccountably drawn to some sites on the Net that offered free porn films, when I was feeling especially 'naughty'. So I felt I knew what I was meant to do when it came to cock sucking. But before now I'd never been with anyone whose cock I had the least interest in sucking.

But my plans for a 'proper' white wedding were gone now. I smiled to myself at the image of Kat, the 'scarlet woman', ruined by the Lord of the Manor. And I decided that those 'Mills & Boon' books had a lot to answer for. The virgin Kat was well and truly gone, now the new version of Kat was going to do something outrageous.

Despite all that, in this situation, with this man, even thinking about how brazen I was about to be, made me blush. It also made me very excited, I could feel my heart beating so I hard I though it would burst. But I got a bigger thrill, harder to explain, from knowing that I might be punishment for taking the initiative in this way.

I licked my lips and slowly moved my mouth to the object of all my desire - and then I tongued him slowly, licking from base to tip. His animal groan told me I had started well. Then I took him into my mouth. With one steady breath, I let him slide to the back of my throat. I was getting better at this, now that I had a chance to go more at my own pace. 

The way he had used my mouth before was exciting but brutal. Now it was getting easier to relax and open my throat for his prick. Practice makes perfect and all that, but as much as I loved it, to me, there was always room for improvement -- especially when my aim was to (eventually) give him the best blow-job he ever had.

My lips stretched around the base of him, he kept blissfully still as I fought nature's gag-reflex and reminded my brain I needed oxygen every so often, consciously breathing deeply through my nose until I stopped feeling like I might faint.

I glanced up at him and our eyes locked. I instinctively knew a sub wasn't meant to look at her Master like this, that I should expect punishment for doing so. But I wanted to see his reaction to what I was doing. Then he gave a smile, maybe the first I'd seen from him, the left side of his lips quirking upwards at me and I knew it had been worth the chance. I also knew now that I would risk any punishment to make him smile like that again.

When I felt his fingers smooth through my hair, I knew he felt he had been lenient enough. He lifted my head, my mouth beginning its friction, over his erection before dragging my mouth back down over him. The tip of him hit the back of my throat with a painful, breathtaking stab, before another and another. But relaxed I focused on my breathing and quickly I began to savour his rough taking. The taste of him, the heat of him, the barely perceivable sounds escaping form him as he used my mouth. 

I felt his balls tighten against my fingertips and knew from experience to take my final breath. A hot stream of cum shot from his cock and down my throat, two more I greedily swallowed before he pulled from me and aimed the rest for my open mouth. 

Again I dared look up, to watch him spend, to see the way his eyes clouded, the tick in his jaw as his fist pumped the last of his pleasure from his cock to land on my lip and my breasts where they were exposed by the gown. He was so lost in the moment he didn't notice me looking. 

Then, when his hold on my hair was gone, I dropped my gaze and I gently licked the last of his cum from his palm and the tip of his cock. I secretly relished how he flinched and the breath hissed sharply between his teeth when my tongue rasped across the parts of his cock made hyper-sensitive in those post orgasmic moments.

HIM

I collapsed on the bed feeling as if I had been filleted, as if every major bone in my body had been removed. I tried to think of how many times I'd cum at the party, before retiring to my room, but my brain failed to co-operate. One thing I did know was that I had never been as comprehensively drained as this little amateur had just managed.

I rolled over on my front to look at the bed-side clock and saw that it was earlier than I thought. Then I must have dozed off for a second, or a minute, because I woke with a start to the most delightful sensation. Kat was kneeling beside me on the bed and I could feel the tips of her hair trailing up and down my back as she moved her head. I realised that she must have stripped naked because the next thing I felt were her breasts pressing into my back, nipples grazing my skin and making me goose-bump like I'd been swimming outdoors in winter. I just sighed and gave myself over to the sensations.

I knew that she had been a virgin up until I had brutally taken her maiden head only a few nights before. So part of me wondered at how she knew to do some of the things she was doing to me. I supposed that being a virgin didn't preclude knowing a hell of a lot about how to please a man. Then her finger-nails traced lazy patterns across my back and I sighed deeply. A long time ago this had been a favourite pleasure but I couldn't recall the last time I had experienced it. Furthermore I couldn't recall why that was the case. Kat, perhaps encouraged by my sighs, scratched a little harder, making me flinch.

'Girl, be gentle.' I instructed and she returned to the perfect pressure, once more triggering waves of goose-bumps across my back.

Giving that instruction made me think about something that had been niggling at me for a few minutes. Something strange was going on and I had just realised what it was. It dawned on me that those three words were as close to an order as I had given her since she arrived in my room. She was pleasuring me as she wished, not as I instructed. I tried to think when that had last happened and I had to admit to myself that the last time was.......never.

I decided to turn over and take more control. But before I could, Kat dragged her finger nails along my thighs, moving from the back of my knees, upwards and inwards -- towards my balls. I couldn't control my groan of pleasure at this new and unexpected experience. My prick almost instantly began to get harden again -- against any expectation of mine. I found myself forgetting to give any orders and moving my legs apart, giving more space to her teasing fingers, willing her to delve further. 

She read my wordless signs quickly. Her fingers danced, her nails grazed my skin, getting closer to my balls with each movement of her hand -- yet without ever touching. Her teasing caresses had me gasping and twitching beneath her ministrations as if she were administering gentle electric shocks -- and my cock continued to swell beneath my body.

At any time I could obviously have stopped her and taken my pleasure from her as I desired. But I realised that I was enjoying letting her take the lead. The new and delightful sensations she was imparting were a revelation. By ordering my partners to do what I liked I was ensuring that I never found anything new that I enjoyed. And now that I thought about this I could see how quickly boredom would result. Perhaps it had already started? Then I was reminded that boredom did not appear to be a problem anymore.

Kat's delightful fingers almost, almost, brushed my balls. I tensed up, my testicles jiggled up and down like yoyos and I couldn't control the exhalation of breath that was nearly a shout. I heard what sounded distinctly like a giggle from somewhere behind me. The sound brought a smile to my face and a thought to my mind. Perhaps Kat needed reminding that she wasn't the only one capable of sexual teasing.

I rolled over and caught her looking at me, before she dropped her eyes. She knelt on the bed, her lustrous blonde hair spilled over her face. The light was coming from behind her, giving her a sort of halo, but making her face hard to see and her expression impossible to read. I got up from the bed, watching her carefully, waiting for a reaction. I was pleased to see that she didn't take the liberty of moving without being instructed. After a quick visit to the bathroom and a swift wash I returned to the room to find her in the same position. Wordlessly I gave her a glass of water from the bathroom and watched her gulp it gratefully. I took the glass from her, spilling some of the remaining water, as I placed clumsily on the bed-side table, suddenly urgent to kiss her again, to see if it was as good as before.

It was better.

HER

I was grateful for the water and realised how thirsty I had been as I drank. I'd barely had to time to think about the kindness and consideration of this gesture before he took the glass back from me. Then I gasped and nearly jumped when Bastian leaned forward to kiss me. His sudden passion was surprising; and thrilling. He kissed me intensely, pressing me down on the bed as he did. Then his mouth began a tour of my body. He seemed to find every sensitive spot on my body with his lips and tongue. Mind you, EVERY inch of my body was sensitive when this man was kissing me. I began to giggle and writhe almost instantly as he nuzzled the skin between my neck and shoulder, then I squealed when he took my earlobe between his lips.

I was shocked when he stood suddenly. I was worried that I had displeased him. I saw him looking around, frowning before he smiled and bent over. Then he loomed over me on the bed and I felt something pressed against my lips. For a second I nearly resisted, then I opened my mouth and felt the lace of my panties on my lips as he gagged me with them. I blushed deeply as I realised I could taste my own sticky excitement on the material.

Bastion carefully moved so that his knees were on either side of my waist, sitting on me without placing any weight on me. The feeling of his magnificent, semi-erect cock against me made every muscle in my stomach cramp with excitement. Then he grasped my wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of my head as he gave me such a wicked smile, full of evil intent but also laughter. That smile made me.....made me......dissolve.

I breathed heavily through my nose, my lungs struggling to be full. My skin flushed, my nipples ached with hardness and my pussy almost literally gushed. All of that was before he began to torture me again with little bites and licks and kisses around my neck and shoulders and the top of my breasts. In slow swooping licks he traced the contours of my boobs, moving closer and closer to my nipples without ever touching them, until all I wanted in the entire world was for them to be touched. And when I had reached exactly that crescendo of desire he took the hard bud of my nipple into his mouth and sucked and nibbled and bit until my senses were overwhelmed.

I was a helpless mess, turned on to new levels of horniness, shrieking into the gagging knickers as I was teased and tickled into a lather. When he wriggled the tip of his tongue into my left ear I arced my body so violently that I almost threw him off like I was a bronco in a rodeo.

Again he stood -- and I again I started to panic. Had I angered him with my reactions? Then I felt one wrist grasped again before being pulled upwards towards the top corner of the bed. I felt something encircle my left wrist and heard the unmistakable 'scritch' noise of Velcro. I looked to the side and saw a black circlet round my wrist. A second later he took my left ankle and in a moment it was restrained as well. I let my body go limp, allowing him to secure my right leg and arm in the same way. Within a few seconds I had been spread-eagled on the bed, helpless and exposed like a star-fish washed up on a beach.

Then he knelt on the bed between my splayed legs and studied me. I pulled gently against my restraints and felt an inexplicable pleasure in knowing that I couldn't free my self from this bondage. The smile on Bastion's face told me that he recognised my reaction and it pleased him.

Then he was coming to my like the predator he was. Oh my, he was glorious. He sprawled on the bed and moved his face close to my leg. I shivered at the heat of his breath on my skin, warmth I wished to feel all over me. My head was propped on the pillows making it possible to watch as he moved up the inside of my legs. He repeated the tongue torture he performed on my neck and shoulders -- with similar results. As he gently bit the inside of my thighs I writhed. Even with my wrists and ankles bound he had to press down on my knees to avoid getting one of them in his face. When his tongue traced patterns on my skin I whimpered and begged uselessly into the panties that muffled my noises.

He paused for a second, waited until I craned my head and looked down at him. I watched his dark head lower, his eyes keeping me transfixed as he approached the centre of my yearning need. When the tip of his tongue finally touched my clitoris I nearly passed out with the intensity of the sensation. Again he patiently waited till I was watching before he teasingly drew my aroused flesh against his lips, his tongue and his incomparable talent. His fingers parted my soaked, swollen folds, his tongue sinking deep, drinking from me as I moaned in and twisted in my restrains, trying to thrust my hips closer and closer to him. 

He slipped his arms under my bound legs, my thighs over his shoulders and had me at his oral mercy. I could see his eyes, now fierce with passion. I could see and feel that he had completely given himself over to giving me pleasure, teaching me again the joys of being helpless and taking joy from my helplessness. Despite the gag he could hear me mewling and groaning as he silently ate my cunt, increasing his attentions. Long strokes of his tongue centred over my clit, which sent me instantly over the edge of the cliff he had built for me, launching me into the void, my cunt spasming, almost lamenting it's emptiness in my alone orgasm. I shuddered against his mouth and my orgasm was intensified by pulling impotently against my bindings.

For a few moments I was conscious of nothing, floating in a post orgasmic bubble of bliss. As I came back down to earth I sensed that the restraints around my ankles had been removed and that one wrist was also free. For a moment I wasn't sure if my Master was still in the room. When the other wrist was loosed and I felt his fingers brush over my tender nipples, I knew he had not abandoned me. Leaning down his fingers smoothed my hair away from my face, brushed my cheek and touched my lips before curling around the object in my mouth. With a smile, he gently tugged the intricate lace of my knickers from my mouth before he lay down beside me and kissed me. I tasted my juices on his tongue, his lips and his cheeks and groaned into his mouth. I wanted to touch him, to give him pleasure, to take his lovely cock in my hand. But he stilled me gently, kissed me softly, and stroked me tenderly. I hooked one leg over his hip and he allowed me to draw his groin as close to mine, feeling his half erect-cock press against me, making me tingle, and he was happy with that contact. Face to face we lay and I studied his face whilst his eyes were closed. 

I heard his breathing slow and realised with amazement that he was falling asleep. With each deeper breath it seemed to me that his face relaxed and some of the lines of worry on his proud brow lessened or disappeared. With moments it was obvious that my Master was asleep. I lay there wondering what I was expected to do in this situation.



Tuition Ch. 04



~Bastion~

"Damn it!" I hissed out loud "Damn it to hell", shouting now. After six attempts to do up my bowtie frustration got the better of me and I threw the doubly damned thing onto the bed. 

I'd been dressing in a 'penguin suit' from even before I got my first bespoke version at the age of fourteen - made for me by Henry Poole's in Saville Row. My father had taught me how to tie the 'thistle knot' and I'd never had any problems with it after the first few times. But now it seemed to be beyond me. This, coming on top of the difficulties

I'd suddenly discovered with threading my cuff-links and shirt studs, was disturbing. What was wrong with me?

At that point Barton rapped on my dressing room door and entered with my usual aperitif. Taking in the scene in an instant he put down the tray and fastened the bowtie for me in a trice. I felt no gratitude; it just seemed another sign of weakness that I had to let him do this for me. And with him standing so close to me whilst performing this task I was more than usually conscious of his fetid breath and greasy hair.

And after this afternoon's incident with Miss Soren he was well and truly off my Christmas card list.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork with a small smile, before he caught my expression. He instantly understood from my face that, if looks could actually kill, he should be a blackened lump of dead meat. Dropping his head he departed as quickly as was seemly.

His arrival and abrupt departure served only to worsen my mood. Barton had many fine qualities but when they were weighed against his faults, the scales sometimes came very close to tipping against him – never more so than right now. 

Distracted as I was I couldn't stop my mind wandering back specifically to this afternoon's scene with the new girl; and to the general subject of 'weakness'.

The evening before this had been a topic of discussion, with Adam and Wren, whilst my Delemain cognac had seemed to evaporate from the decanter. The cousins had been ribbing me about my new servant. They had suggested that I was too protective, too interested in her. They laughed and asked if I was 'soft' on her. At first the baiting was relatively gentle. Their use of this word had, at least initially, a gentle, childish inference and I laughed off their gibes – as if I would get soft about, or have 'a crush' on, a servant?

But as the cognac consumption rose the word returned in a different, harder guise. Wren started to suggest that I was soft on her; in the sense of not disciplining her as I should. I didn't see this suggestion as at all humorous. For a man of my inclinations and standing this was dangerous talk. Wren knew it too. Amongst us this was nearly the equivalent of asking a stranger in a pub, 'did you spill my pint?' Despite the smile on his lips and the bantering tone of voice I could see the cruelness in his eyes and the desire to hurt.

I can forgive my cousins many things, but this nearly went too far. Keeping my emotions under tight rein I told them I was going to bed – and suggested they do the same. But when I did retire I found sleep elusive. 

Now, as I poured a glass of the champagne that Barton had left, I faced myself and answered my own questions. I realised that the reason my cousins had found it so easy to goad me about being 'soft' was, that I feared they were right. I feared the weakness that this revealed if it were true. The tension this dilemma had generated was giving me a headache from grinding my teeth. I suddenly realized that it was also the source of the slight tremor in my hands that had made getting dressed so frustrating.

Now that I was being honest with myself I realized it explained something else. I better understood my anger with Barton. I knew that his story about the girl attacking him was patently absurd. But once he had made the accusation I had felt that I had to act. I had to maintain the discipline of the hierarchy within my household. 

But now I wondered if I had over-reacted in order to prove that I wasn't 'soft' on Kat. I knew the news of her punishment would spread to my cousins and I hoped it would remove any excuse for more 'jokes'.

Then a smile crossed my lips and my spirits lifted. Recalling the punishment of the girl inevitably lead me to think about her response to it. The way she had reacted to my lashes, and not to Barton's, had been exquisite. She had borne her unfair punishment like some mediaeval 'trial by ordeal' – and been proven innocent.

I hadn't intended to fuck her, just punish her. But I had been carried away by the eroticism of a true submissive, revealed by torment; blazing like metal tempered in a forge of pain

I took an H. Uppmann cigar from the humidor and stepped onto the balcony with my glass. I carefully went through the familiar, calming ritual, clipping the end and lighting it with a cedar match. I savoured the distinctive 'leather' taste of the smoke before sipping the fizz.

Looking out from this place always made me feel good revived my spirits if ever they flagged. This vantage point allowed me to see a fair part of the Shorncliffe grounds. The drive, lined with Scots Pines, snaked and sloped away to the road. But even on the other side of the road, to the horizon, was part of the estate. As always, unbidden, the expression, 'as far as the eye can see' rose in my mind.

My father had often brought me here, to share the view. He didn't say anything much at those times, he didn't need to. I knew what he was feeling and I shared those emotions, then as now. It was in our DNA

No matter how many times I saw this vista it never failed to me invigorate and awe me. My great-grandfather had planted those pines on either side of the drive, knowing that he would never see them grow to maturity; but at the same time knowing that one of his ancestors would appreciate the pains he had taken. It was that certitude, that foresight, the arrogance in believing we would still be here that left me most impressed. We, my family, knew the importance of having our roots deep in the landscape. And we knew the importance of leaving our mark. High on its hill, this house dominated the landscape in every direction. It stated in brick and stone, firmly but without fear of contradiction – "here we stand and here we stay". Hic Nos Sto Quod Hic Nos Subsisto might be the family motto, but I was sure that the attitude existed and defined my family a long time before the words were coined to do the same

The noise of a car broke my reverie. I could hear an engine over-revving as it climbed the drive and see a cloud of dust rising. The exhaust noise betrayed a powerful sports car, driving too fast. Just the noise was enough to alert me to who was arriving. Seconds later an Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato fishtailed to a stop in the gravel before the front door and my spirits fell as my suspicions were confirmed. My sister had announced her arrival in her typical under-stated way.

I watched Barton scurry to open the door for her and then take her luggage as she entered the house. The Lady Bailey La Motte had arrived – with capital A – as she did everywhere. Then my spirits fell further when I saw a slim, young man get out of the passenger seat. Invitations to my parties were never 'plus 1'. Only those specifically invited were welcome. But my sister did not believe that any law, rule, convention or custom applied to her. She believed that she was entitled – in every sense of the word. And she knew that I would not turn away her guest. She knew I would follow the rules of polite society that she so provocatively flouted.

My sister was three years younger than myself and the darling of the tabloid press. Her two ex-husbands had both been famous in their own right - and that would have been enough to keep her in the papers. But as 'Britain's Top Posh Totty' (© The Sun) she had become a 'brand'. Sister of the 'Reclusive Earl' (© The Daily Mail), she was a fashion icon and trendsetter. What she wore, sold out. Where she ate got booked out. If she did something it was seen as proof that it was 'trendy'. I almost snorted aloud at even thinking the word. She was dangerously close to becoming a national treasure. Sometimes I felt that I was the only person who knew what an unmitigated, irredeemable, world class bitch she was.

I also knew that her arrival would coincide with a renewed argument about money. 

She used the old family surname – La Motte, the one that probably prompted my father's interest in castles. But in her case it had resulted in a normal(ish) first name for her. Everyone called me 'Bastian' pronouncing it with two syllables and assuming it was short for Sebastian. I doubt there were five people in the world who knew it was spelt Bastion and should have three syllables.

I felt my headache pounding even worse and ground out my barely smoked cigar to go back inside, to find some pain killers and to continue getting ready. I had invited my sister out of courtesy, out of duty, hoping she wouldn't come; knowing she would. But she was here and the party would now be a different affair as a result; much more 'interesting'. Then I remembered that the Chinese curse an enemy by hoping that they 'live in interesting times'.

The invitation had stated '7.00 for 7.30' so I was in the ballroom by 6.45. I wanted to check all the arrangements and I knew that many guests would be early, eager to sample Shorncliffe's justly famed hospitality. I was also worried that uninvited guests might try to join us. 

Just recently the papers had become a real nuisance. They were rabidly and, to my mind, irrationally curious about me. My refusal to do any interviews seemed only to infuriate them and did nothing to lessen their interest. The last offer for a photo shoot 'at home with Bastian, Earl of Shorncliffe' had been over a million pounds; I hadn't even bothered to reply. This hadn't stopped them making up stories to fill their empty pages – and the even emptier heads of their readers. But just recently the stories had contained too many grains of truth. And the paparazzi were apparently getting lucky in guessing where I was going, turning up to photograph me when I least wanted them about. I couldn't help wondering where they were getting their information from.

At the front door I chatted for a while with the beefy head of the security firm I had contracted for the night. We reviewed the arrangements for patrols through the grounds and checks at the door to ensure that only those invited made it through the portal. I reminded him about the prohibition of mobile phones and cameras

I knew the man, and his firm, to be efficient and discreet having used them in the past. But even then only he would be permitted into the house, and only in an emergency. The other guards would remain outside. Portable toilets had been installed to the side of the house and food would be provided for his staff in the summerhouse.

When I started to talk about camera phones for the third time I could see that he was on the verge of rolling his eyes. I felt a flash of anger, but bit down on it. My nervousness about the press was making me garrulous. I half laughed and shook my head.

"Sorry" I said brusquely. "You know your job – I should let you get on with it." He nodded as I turned away in to the house, making my way to the ballroom.

When I entered the room I saw Barton, Mrs. Hiddleton and Mary deep in conversation. Mary broke away to approach me. She was my hostess for the evening and looked very different out of her dowdy daytime uniform. Her raven dark hair, released from its dowdy daytime bun, was swept back and loosely held in a chignon. Artfully applied make-up complimented her natural advantages, high cheek-bones and a wide generous mouth. Emeralds glittered at her ears and in the shadow of her décolletage – mirroring her eyes. Obviously braless her breasts swayed enticingly under her silk couture gown. 

At that moment I couldn't stop warm memories from crowding into my mind as I watched her. This was the woman who had been my first lover, the one who taught me so much about the joys of sex – straight and kinky. I realized with a jolt that she had basically been ever present in my life, that at every stage she had been there to give assistance, advice - and pleasure. I felt a little of the tension in me loosen in her presence.

She must have noticed the strange expression on my face because she smiled quizzically when she drew nearer. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and took her hand to kiss it. 

"You look ravishing Mary; ravishable might be more accurate actually." She smiled at my clumsy compliment, looking me straight in the eye. 

"You are looking pretty good yourself ....Bastion."

Taking on the role of hostess meant other roles changed. We had never discussed how things were different in these situations; we had just arrived at an arrangement that worked. We became equals, almost, for an evening. No 'Sirs' or 'Masters' when she was hostess. Many of the guests tonight were friends of my father's and Mary had known many of them for more than thirty years. 'Known' them in several senses, as she would have 'entertained' them over the years in the special Shorncliffe way. But now, in recognition of her unique status, Mary was not expected to accommodate the guests as other maids were. Long tradition dictated that whilst junior girls could refuse no request or order from the guests. (I trusted my friends and acquaintances enough to know that these would not be 'unreasonable'), Mary was free to pick and choose.

I waved away her compliment. "Are you happy with the arrangements?" I asked, suddenly business like.

She glanced around before summarizing. "The outside catering staff are in the kitchen and Mrs Hiddleton is supervising them. Naturally they won't be allowed in this room." she added. "Barton is looking after the bar." She couldn't stop the slight curl of her lip as she continued. "I'll try to make sure he doesn't sample his own wares too much."

I suppressed a smile and asked, "Did he manage all the equipment?" Mary acknowledged his competence in this area.

"Yes, the St Andrews cross is erected and a couple of 'sore horses' are scattered around." 

I smiled at the expression she used. The 'sore horses' were another fiendish invention of my father's. They looked a little like a carpenter's 'saw horse' but were padded and equipped with straps and buckles. Once someone was strapped down they would be helpless and exposed - at the mercy of whoever put them there. 

"We have to cater for all our guests little foibles." I reminded Mary. "I'm guessing that after a few drinks your friend, the Judge, will be confessing how 'bad' he's been and how much he deserves to be punished."

Mary laughed. "If...when he does I'll strap him to the 'sore horse' and give him the thrashing of his life." Then she frowned, "But if he starts going on about 'potty training' him, then he is going to be disappointed."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You can relax Mary. I had a polite word with him about that when I invited him." Then I added, "Anything else?"

She frowned slightly. "With Miss Soren making such a fetching smorgasbord I think Miss Rousseau is going to be very busy."

I looked away from Mary. "Yes, Miss Soren, I had forgotten about her." I lied. When I glanced back at Mary her mocking smile made me realize how well she knew me.

I coughed and felt as I might even be blushing. "Don't let me keep you from your duties Mary" I suggested lamely. She nodded, still smiling, and turned and headed for the kitchen.

I glanced around and immediately noticed that Mary was right about 'Miss Rousseau'. As I watched she put down her tray of drinks and knelt, with just a hint of reluctance and disgust, before one elderly guest, the fly of his tuxedo trouser were already open. He fed his half-erect cock into her mouth and I watched as she bobbed her head efficiently enough. The old guy stroked her platinum curls gently as she sucked. I knew him to be a gentleman of the old school (as befitted an ex-ambassador to France). I was gratified to see from his expression that he was pleased with my servant's efforts. 

I saw his thrusting increase in speed and saw Alice pull back slightly, starting to stroke his cock shaft. The man half-heartedly tried to hold her head but her hand did the trick, conjuring a spurt of semen that splashed on her chin before dripping onto her neck and breasts. I could see the slight look of disappointment on my guest's face, which he was too polite to let Alice see when she stood up and collected her tray.

I was not going to be so polite. She caught my eye and her face fell when I beckoned her over.

"Miss Rousseau?" I growled. She nodded; eyes wide. "Your job is to take care of my guests – very good care of them. You will do whatever they ask and whilst doing it you will look, and sound, like you are loving it, do I make myself clear?" I waited till she nodded.

"If they want to come in your mouth you will let them and lap it up and say thank you. If they want to fuck your arse you will spread your hole open to make it easy for them. Nothing is to be refused my friends."

As I was speaking the girl was struggling to get a tissue out of the arm of her uniform, obviously with the intention of cleaning the sperm from her chin. She evidently wasn't getting the message.

I leant closer to her and hissed in her ear. "You aren't listening you empty headed slut. You've been told before that cum suits you. You will not clean yourself up."

"Now", I continued with extra menace in my voice, "unless you want to spend the night on the whipping cross, or serving as an extra pissoir in the men's room return to your duties and perform them properly."

I saw the shock in her face and knew she now understood what was required. Without another word I turned away. I knew where I wanted to go next, where I had wanted to go since I came into the room. But I could not allow anyone to think I was too interested. I was especially conscious that Mary might notice and I didn't want any more of her knowing smiles.

At the bar, Barton was dispensing drink - and greasy bonhomie - in almost equal measure. He saw me approaching and had a drink ready when I arrived.

"Your Laphroaig, Sir" he oozed. "The 40 year old for you Sir. I kept it by specially".

I sipped it, ice cubes tinkling and savoured the peat, before nodding my thanks to Barton. With the familiar pleasant burn of the whisky in the back of my throat, and the painkillers kicking in, my headache started to fade. For all his faults Barton had a genius for anticipating my needs. I knew he was an immense irritant to everyone else in the house but he knew which side his bread was buttered on and who paid his wages. He looked down on nearly everyone else in the house and took advantage of them whenever he could. But he looked after me wonderfully. And then there was his skill for staff recruitment.

But at the same time I couldn't help thinking that if there really were an informant talking to the press, then Barton was the perfect candidate for the role.

Barton took in the growing throng in the ballroom and observed, "The new girl's getting an easy night Sir?" nodding in her direction. "Leaving the French tart to do all the work?"

His comment brought the subject of Miss Soren to the front of my mind. In truth it had never been far from it. Despite myself I glanced to the alcove at the other end of the room, to where portraits of my family hung, and a cluster of people surrounded a table

Then, glancing sideways I noticed Alice was currently sitting down on the job. Or to be more precise she was sitting down on the cock of a High Court judge and bouncing up and down on it with every evidence of enjoyment, occasionally squealing "il est si grand".




Tuition Ch. 04



"Do you think so Barton? They each have their roles to perform – as I have instructed them.

Barton immediately backtracked. "Of course Sir, you know best, of course." Then he paused and I could almost hear the cogs whirring as he added more whisky to my glass.

"Good stuff that Laphroaig, Sir. Your father's favourite, God rest his soul. Sort of a family tradition as it were, Sir." 

I wondered where he was going with this. "Yes it is Barton. And if I find you drinking it I'll have your scrotum for a tobacco pouch."

He flapped his hands and snorted, "Not me Sir, too strong for my tastes. A blend does me when I want a whisky........which isn't often of course Sir." He rushed to add.

I nearly choked on my drink.

"No, I understand it is a tradition that is dear to your heart. I know how important traditions are to you Sir. I know you don't like changes to the way things are done around here."

The pleading, whining tone in his voice had increased beyond the usual irritating volume and, puzzled at the reason for this, I turned my full attention to him and asked, 

"What are you on about man?"

He almost recoiled from me, but gathered himself to explain, "It's about.....about my summer.....bonus Sir."

Now all became clear and I almost gasped. Barton's 'bonus' was that I allowed him the pick of the summer staff for one night. I didn't think of it as a tradition, just a perk for doing a good job picking the girls. There was also an element of pity in my decision. I figured that with Barton's appearance and personal hygiene he didn't get much unless he paid for it - or the girl had no choice.

With a great effort I kept my face blank as I asked. "And if I gave you your bonus this year Barton, whom would you choose?"

His desperate glance towards the table in the portrait alcove tells me what I already knew. 

"Not Alice, Barton?" I ask. We both glance towards the French girl, who is now being fucked from behind by the judge whilst as the same time lapping between the thighs of the Headmistress from the local girl's school.

I saw the desperate need in his eyes as he shook his head. I can understand his desire, but at the same time the idea of what he wants disgusts me. Barton and Kat? Impossible! But it was something I had allowed before, so how could refuse him now? Because I felt differently about this girl? Because I was getting 'soft'?

"I understand what you are saying Barton." I told him. I could see he wanted more from me but I turned away before he began to beg.

Leaving him to stew I finally made my way to place that I have been drawn to all night – like iron filings to a magnet. Staying away this long has taken a strong effort of will. But the attraction of Kat had finally pulled me into her orbit. Several other satellites are also circling. I saw Adam (but not Wren), a recently retired cabinet minister, a famous soap-opera actor (in casual clothes I noticed, a friend of Adam's) and several other guests admiring the tableau.

Kat was spread on white damask cloth, lying on her back, her knees bent but her feet resting on the table. In a strange way it looked like some kind of yoga position. She was lying back, straps around her wrists, and another set curling around her thighs above her knees, leaving the flogger obscenely protruding. I noticed that her previously rather overgrown pubic hair had been shaved smooth and wondered if Barton or Mary had made her comply with my preferences. It made the sight even more erotic as far as I was concerned. There were candelabra holding large candles of various sizes cast a soft, sensual light over the scene. Something about the setting made the girl look like she was an altar – but was she a sacrifice or the host? On another small table nearby were various bits of equipment from my 'playroom', just in case the use of them should take my guest's fancy.

She looked good enough to eat by herself, but now she served as a table. Various delicacies adorned her body and the clustering guests picked at the dainties, occasionally dipping them into the chili sauce pooled in her navel. All the while they took liberties with her helpless body. Stroking, tweaking, fondling. With a lace blindfold around her eyes she couldn't tell who was touching her and she flinched slightly with each caress.

I knew that she couldn't see me, that she hadn't heard me, but as I moved round her bound body I could have sworn she turned her head towards me, her blindfolded eyes following me. At the foot of the table I could see my whip was still protruding from her arse, its strands dangling like an obscene tail. 

If anyone had thought Kat was in distress or unwilling, from my position they would have been reassured. The proof of her excitement was all too evident, wetness, slick and shining in the candlelight on her thighs and her brutally exposed pussy.

I grasped the handle of the whip and twisted it gently, forcing the end deeper into her. On the table Kat writhed in her bonds and moaned. 

Those watching took this as a sign to increase the depravity of their usage of the girl. One elderly woman smeared chocolate sauce on Kat's bullet hard nipples before licking it off. Others dipped crudités into her wet pussy and ate them with relish – cunt relish. One trailed a blanched asparagus spear across her skin, raising goose-bumps. My maid mewled and sighed at each unseen assault

I watched the actor step away from Adam's side and move between Kat's legs. On the way he took a bunch of grapes and a bowl from a table and began to pluck them, one by one. Then he knelt down and began pushing the grapes delicately into Kat's pussy. 

From between her wide stretched thighs I heard the soap star order. "Don't let any drop out young lady." And I watched fascinated as they disappeared, hearing someone counting as each one went in. 

As the count reached '30' Kris, the actor, paused and licked his finger clean with obvious delight. Then he said.

"I don't think she can accommodate anymore, not without crushing them."

Kris stood and dipped his finger in the hot sauce in Kat's navel and smeared it liberally on her clitoris. I think we all held our breath for a few seconds until the chilli began to burn. Kat's writhing increased and her moans became cries. The distraction of the pain caused her to lose control and concentration and the inevitable happened. Kris, with perfect timing, used the bowl to catch the grapes, fishing out the last few from Kat's pussy with a crooked finger. 

He acknowledged a round of amused applause as he passed around the bowl so the audience could taste the result. He even popped one cunt slick grape into Kat's mouth, which she accepted blindly, gratefully.

The Headmistress, Daphne, accepted a grape and rolled the fruit around in her mouth.

"Doesn't she taste delicious?" She declared. "I want to try that sauce direct from the ...um.........source." 

Daphne looked nothing like your archetypal lesbian. She was petite and slim, clad in a tightly tailored, blue trouser suit. Perhaps only her severely bobbed grey/blonde hair was a clue to her orientation. But I knew from previous parties that she was a master of cunnilingius (or a mistress) and was proud of her abilities.

She took a cushion from a chair and dropped it on the floor between Kat's legs. Before she knelt down she announced to her helpless target, "I'm going to eat you out till you come like never before."

My brain swirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. This was the first time that anyone apart from me was going to have their fun with Kat - and I couldn't really quash strange feelings of jealousy. But my guests expected that the maids were available to use. Besides, Daphne wasn't going to fuck her. When someone with a cock wanted to use Kat I was going to have a whole other set of issues to deal with.

But at the same time I found the prospect fascinating. Kat might have played with Alice briefly the night before, but this was the first time she was going to get her pussy eaten by woman. Then I stopped my thoughts. As far as I knew this might the first time she'd ever had her pussy eaten.

Whatever the case, as soon as Daphne's talented tongue got to work, it became obvious that Kat loved having her pussy licked. The Headmistress gently lapped at the wet folds of my maid's cunt and slowly started working her way towards her clit. Almost instantly Kat was sighing and moaning, moving as much as the leather straps would allow, trying to manoeuvre the teasing tongue to where she wanted it, where see needed it. 

I'd seen Daphne torture girls with her tongue at previous parties, dragging it out, delaying, stopping, until the recipient was begging, literally screaming to be allowed to orgasm. But on this occasion she was not so cruel. She seemed to be hell-bent on making Kat cum as quickly and as hard as possible, almost immediately she started to concentrate on the hard, wet nub at the top of Kat's pink folds. Instantly the girl's breathing became more rapid; her constrained movements more urgent. It was obvious that an orgasm was only moments away.

Then Kat moaned again, but this time it was a moan of disappointment and I could see her mouth twisted with frustration. Daphne, evidently thinking she was being too rough, slowed down - and Kat began to sigh and moan again. But a cycle had begun which would be repeated. Kat wanted to cum, Daphne wanted to make her cum; but it just wasn't happening. The teacher would obviously bring the girl to the brink on orgasm, the plateau before the peak; only for her to seemingly slide back down again. It was obviously exceedingly frustrating for the both of them.

After about ten minutes Daphne stood up, accepting defeat. The lower half of her face glistened in Kat's juices and she grabbed a napkin from a table to wipe off the evidence of the maid's excitement. She looked at me and it seemed she was going to say something to me. 

Instead she shrugged and muttered, "I'm thirsty." And went off in search of a drink.

Prompted by her words I looked around for Alice. She came to my side promptly and I couldn't help but smile at the state she was in. Dried cum was stuck to her breasts, which were hanging out of her uniform. I guessed that she had given up trying to put them away. There was fresher sperm soaking her hair and her make up was smeared.

"Have you been looking after my guests Alice?"

She bobbed a tiny curtsey and nodded her head. "Oui Master."

"Tell me how" I asked. I saw the blank look on her face and prompted her. "What have they required you to do?"

She blushed slightly and dropped her eyes. "Some of your guests have wanted me to suck their cocks Sir" Then she added, with a slight moue of distaste, "Most of them wanted me to swallow their.......sperme? Their....cum?" She glanced at me briefly to check I understood.

I nodded. "How many?"

"I think four or five Sir"

"What else has been required of you Alice?"

"Of course most have wanted to fuck me." She looked a little proud as she announced this.

"Of course." I agreed. "How many - and where did they fuck you?"

She looked a little puzzled at my questions but I wasn't going to explain that the details excited me.

"A few fucked my....my....cunt", she stumbled over the unfamiliar English obscenity. "Maybe five did that. But most of them wanted to buggor me". Her accent made the word sound outrageously obscene. "My cul is so sore. I think maybe seven men have fucked my little hole." Then she looked puzzled and asked, "What is it with British men? All the they want is buggory. Don't their wives give up their asses to keep them happy?" she asked, as if it were perfectly natural to her.

I laughed, "I doubt their wives are good little anal whore like you Alice." And she smiled at this twisted compliment, not detecting my ironic inflection. "Turn around, bend over and show me." I ordered.

She obeyed without complaint, lifting her skirt and spreading herself wide for my inspection. Her arse and cunt both looked well used. Her anus gaped and it was pretty obvious that everyone who had fucked her had cum in her. Sperm trickled from both her holes, flowing down her inner thighs and soaking her stocking tops. As I watched a fat blob ran from her arse and splashed on the floor.

She looked back at me over her shoulder and shyly asked. "Did you call me over to make use of me Sir? Perhaps you wished to fuck my ass as well?" I could see a tinge of fear in her eyes – but also desire. The sight of her in front of me was so obscene and horny that I was sorely tempted, my cock started to harden. I nearly forgot that in fact I had asked her to attend me so that I could order a drink.

Just before I made a decision I felt a tap on my shoulder. I glanced around to see the Right Honourable Quentin Leaf. But he wasn't seeing me; he had eyes only for Alice.

"Would you mind if I had a ride old boy?" he asked, voice hoarse with lust.

I smiled to hide my annoyance at his interruption. "Not at all..........old boy. Be my guest, quite literally."

Without even a word of thanks or any other preliminary, he unzipped his trousers and shoved an impressively sized cock into Alice's receptive arse. With the lack of subtlety that marked his years as a cabinet minister he grabbed her hips and pulled her back on to his complete length. Alice remained bent forward, hands on her knees and grunted with each of his thrusts.

I left them to it, feeling pleased that Alice's attitude seemed to have improved, to get the drink for myself.

When I returned to Kat's table more people were gathered but there seemed to be a pause in the activity. I noticed Mary beside the Ambassador, an old friend in every sense. I also noticed that as he pinched and tweaked Kat's nipples, Mary was gently stroking his veiny cock into an impressive erection.

Pausing at the head of the table I looked up at the portraits. My ancestors, from many generations, looked down on the scene and I couldn't help wondering what they would think if they could actually see it. From what I knew of my family history I was positive that most of them would have been disappointed not to be attending. Especially old great, great (something) grandfather Joshua, who'd reputedly been an original member of the Hellfire Club. But most especially, of all of them, my father would have been devastated not to be here, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the centre of the debauchery. I glanced at his painting – he would have loved this. 

Then I glanced at the picture besides his. "You hated all this didn't you..........Mother?" 

The painting showed a short, plump, blonde woman. Despite the best efforts of the famous painter responsible, he hadn't made her look beautiful. Nor could he entirely conceal the air of mild disdain that was my mother's default expression. Her family's money had been welcome, crucial even, when my parent's married – but it had not been a basis for a happy match.

Breaking out my reverie I bent forward and lifted Kat's head with one hand, tipping the glass of water to her lips with the other. She drank deeply and gratefully, then smiled up at me. Again she couldn't see that it was me, couldn't know it was me, but something about that smile made me believe that she did.

Then a familiar voice broke my train of thought.

"Awwwww, what a touching scene?"

I looked up to see my sister, Bailey La Motte. As always, when I saw her, I was struck by how much she looked like me. If people met us together for the first time they almost always assumed we were twins. Like me she was tall, slim, dark, almost black, hair and green eyes. Now these eyes were full of mischief; cruel mischief. 

She stood flanked by Wren and her uninvited guest, gloved fists on her hips, sporting thigh high boots and short leather skirt. Under a cropped jacket (also leather) she wore a silk blouse with a ruffled front – every bit of her clothing was black.

"Hello Bailey." I said, keeping my voice flat. 'Your usual understated arrival I see.' And then, even though I knew she only ever wore designer clothes, I couldn't resist adding, 

"How many vinyls died to make that outfit?"

She sneered back at me; head cocked aggressively forward and to one side, green eyes flashing.

"And I am pleased to see you too Bast-i-on." She said, her voice continuing to drip sarcasm. Then she glanced down at the table as I lowered Kat's head.

"Is this your new toy bro? The one Wren's been telling me all about?"

I looked at my cousin, furious. He had the good grace to look embarrassed. But Bailey had always been able to wrap him round her finger.

"Of course you always let your guests play with your toys at party time, don't you B?" my sister purred as she moved closer and ran her fingernail across Kat's breast.

"I am sooooo looking forward to playing with this one." Then she looked at me directly and the cruelest, coldest smile slid across her lips.

"Can I Bastion? Can I pleeeeassse play with your toy?" she asked, in voice mimicking a child begging for a treat.

Her tone of voice reminded me of our childhood. And of the fact that any time she had borrowed a toy of mine, she always broke it.

I tried to gather my thoughts and think of some reason to deny my sister her demand, however she might pretend to made it sound like a request.

At that point Mary left off her ministrations of the Ambassador, and approached our tense standoff. 

"Good evening Miss La Motte. How delightful to see you." She said, with what seemed to be genuine sincerity. "Could I get a drink for you and your......guest?"

I knew she was only trying to perform her duties as hostess, to ease the tension that perhaps only she had detected; I also knew that she was wasting her time. The antipathy between these two was deep-seated and long lasting.

Bailey turned to face Mary and, had she been a cat, her fur would have been up and she would have been hissing and spitting.

"Ah, the dowager chatelaine, ever ready to serve – and to insult." She snarled. "The correct way to address me is 'Lady Bailey', as you should very well know. So I can't say that I am delighted to see you....Mary. I thought you might have been pensioned off by now."

I saw the effort it took Mary not to bridle at these insults, she merely shrugged. But her eyes narrowed and her shoulders straightened as she prepared for a battle. Knowing Mary I was sure it would be a polite fight and wondered if Bailey knew what she was starting, or re-starting. 

Mary made an almost convincing effort to smile and continued her attempts to placate.

"I am grateful that Bastion continues to find me useful....Lady Bailey. Perhaps, if you don't want a drink, your guest might care for refreshment?"

Bailey glanced up at the man she had arrived with. He was tall and slim, of Middle Eastern appearance. He was also handsome, bordering on beautiful. The smile on his face showed that he had not read the currents of tension swirling around him. But it did seem to indicate that a drink seemed pretty good idea to him.

Bailey's hackles went down a fraction. "Two champagnes then. And the good stuff, not the horse-piss Bastion tries to palm off on these proles." She ordered as she wafted her hand in the general direction of my guests.

Bailey seemed determined to piss off everyone in the room. Situation normal then 

Without a 'please' or a 'thank you' she dismissed Mary by turning her back on her. She glanced at me to see if her barb had struck home. I kept my face impassive.

"I'd heard Mary was still working here." She said to me, honeyed poison still dripping from her words. "Are you still fucking the old bitch Bastion? Is that why you keep her on? Couldn't do without our wet-nurse? Worried she'd have to whore on the streets if did the sensible thing and let her go? I've been told you're losing your grip here. That you are too........soft to run this household properly?"




Tuition Ch. 04



I made every effort not to glance at Wren, but my eyes must have flickered in his direction – and Bailey noticed. Her vicious smile of satisfaction showed she felt she had drawn first blood.

Trying to sound as natural as possible I asked, "You think I should be harder Bailey? Like you? You feel you could do a better job with Shornecliff?" 

Before she could respond I went on. "Within a year you'd be selling the family silver to fund your so called 'life-style' and the money would be snorted up the noses of your coke-whore hangers-on."

Now it was Bailey's turn to betray herself, by looking at her Arab friend. Then she turned her gaze on me, fury glittering in her eyes.

"One all" I mouthed silently.

With an effort she shrugged off my riposte. "Is that why you cut off my trust fund brother? Or was it just you being spiteful?"

I rolled my eyes at this, an old argument revived. "Maybe I thought you should earn your money, work for it. I felt it my duty to ensure that my.........our father's legacy not be wasted." I told her. 

Her eyes hooded and an ambiguous smile illuminated her face. "Your duty? Yes you were always one to do your duty weren't you brother? Stick to the rules, play it by the book?"

I was slightly alarmed by that smile. I wondered what it presaged.

"Duty and tradition are your watchwords, aren't they Bastion?" She whispered, as she turned by back to the table once again, staring down at Kat, bound and helpless. 

Icy fingers of premonition prickled my spine. I began to see the trap she had set for me, that I had walked into. What made it worse was that Barton had sprung it on me and I still fell for it the second time. My damn fucking pride was becoming a major liability.

"Of course tradition dictates that the maids should entertain guests at Shorncliffe parties, doesn't it brother dearest?" Once again her manicured fingernails were tracing red marks across Kat's breasts. Her smile was now twice as wide and doubly infuriating.

"Father was most insistent on that subject I seem to remember." She looked straight at me. "Even that stuck-up bitch Mary did duty as a cum-bucket back then. Do you remember that as well Bastion? She leaked spunk for days afterwards." Then she added, "but not any more I hear. Instead with have this common little trollop to take her place, don't we?" Bailey sneered as she stared down at Kat.

I knew I was outmaneuvered; all I could do was nod, teeth clenched.

"Wonderful" she cried, clapping her hands in delight. "In that case, I want to use this slut." She said pointing theatrically at the bound girl. "And I want to use her very, very traditionally."

With those words she strode around the table and grasped the whip that filled Kat's arse and pulled it out, tearing a gasp of pain from her mouth. Holding it by the shaft she moved to the head of the table and pressed the handle against Kat's closed lips. 

"Lick it clean!" she demanded. Everyone watching held their breath until they saw Kat give the slightest shake of her head.

Only a few hours before she had willingly obeyed the same order from me. But the whip had been in her pussy, not her arse. Bailey was risking Kat's health with such an order. My guests were all screened before a party for other health risks and I knew none would request such a dangerous activity as this. Despite this I steeled myself not to interfere.

Enraged, Bailey looked as if she was about raise the whip and bring it down on Kat. But in an instant she mastered her rage as a different idea occurred to her. With most the unpleasant smile I think I have ever seen she turned to me and shouted.

"BASTION! One of your servants has refused an order?" The unasked question that hung in the air was obvious to everyone - "what are you going to do about it?"

I knew there was only one answer to the question. Walking like a wind-up soldier I went to the table of toys and selected a long, thick riding crop. I flexed it as I approached the table -and my disobedient maid.

"I am disappointed in you Miss Soren." I announced stiffly. "You know the rules of your employment. You will be punished for your disobedience. You will not refuse my guests anything in future. Do you understand?" I waited till I saw the slightest nod of her blindfolded head, then I paused again. 

I knew that Kat did not really deserve this punishment. I relied on my guests not to make unreasonable, dangerous or unhealthy requests of my staff. But I could not rely on Bailey to do the same. But she obviously wanted to hurt by proxy. There were too many 'connoisseurs' of BDSM gathered around the table for me to get away with taking it easy on the girl. I had to do the 'correct' thing.

"You will receive six stokes and you will count them for me." I ordered. Then, without hesitation, I raised the crop and brought it whistling down, straight across both thighs of my maid.

Her cry was intense and heart wrenching, the livid stripe on her legs immediately apparent. I waited until her gasps and sobs subsided and she was able to say, in a choked voice.

"One.......Master."

The crop came down again, just as hard, leaving a new, parallel welt. This time her cry was half scream, half moan as she arced up from the table

"Two, Master" Clearer this time.

Again. There was now no mistaking the changes in her reaction to her punishment. This time the noises she made were almost all moan.

"Three.........thank you Master."

Harder this time, four cruel red stripes in delicious contrast to the whiteness of her skin, matching the marks I had left on her back earlier that day.

"Four, Master."

The fifth cut crossed the first four diagonally, increasing the pain as it fell on already lacerated flesh. Kat strained upwards against her bonds. Her nipples were hard and a deep pink flush coloured her breasts. Her gasps and moans signified her want, unmistakably the sounds of desire.

I could sense that those watching were entranced, they were frozen and you could have heard a pin drop. I doubted that, even with all their experience, they had seen anything like this before

"Five Master." Some how just these two words conveyed so much. An entreaty, a prayer, a supplication.

Pausing only to be sure of my aim I brought the riding crop down, hard – directly on her clitoris. It was as if I pressed the firing switch that set of a human explosion. Kat screamed in the throes of her release, head back, orgasming in a wave of gasps and sighs that lasted about a minute. When her super stimulated body was back under some form of control, when her she returned from the verge of hyperventilation she announced.

"Six. THANK YOU Master."

I turned away, without expression, without looking at Kat. There was a hush, an almost awed silence from the on-lookers. "He made her cum with a cropping!?"

With a mock inclination of my head and click of my heels I gave the crop to Bailey.

I saw Mary at Bailey's elbow, with two glasses of champagne. Bailey snatched one and gulped it down. There was no sign of her guest, for whom the other glass was intended, so she took his glass as well. She sipped at it as she prowled around her prey, perhaps thinking she would find her more amenable to control now.

With my riding crop she idly flipped Kat's small, deliciously pink nipples. Then her eyes lit on the nearby table and her face broke into the grin of a child in a toyshop. She picked up a paddle, then a flogger before she settled on a pair of nipple clamps, joined by a chain. She picked them up and twirled them round, smiling at me, trying to goad me. I kept my face set, waiting.

She grasped one of Kat's nipples, twisting it and pulling it upwards. The girl could not see what was about to happen and her first inkling was the pain of the sharp metal teeth of one clamp biting into her tender flesh. Kat's breath hissed through her clenched teeth.

"Your ugly fat titties need improvement slut." Bailey cooed as she tightened the first clamp and then made sure the second was attached and screwed it down, hard.

The comment was revealing. It seemed my sister, a B cup at best, was more than a little envious of Kat's magnificent breasts.

She grasped the chain connecting the clamps and tugged. Kat's only reaction was a gasp. Bailey tugged harder and I could see Kat biting her lip so as not to give her tormenter the satisfaction of an audible reaction.

"Are you trying to be tough?" Bailey shouted. "Let's see out how tough you are then?" With those words she snatched off Kat's blindfold. "I want to see the hurt in your eyes."

I wasn't the only one who noticed how worked up Bailey was getting. Her face was red and her eyes wide. It seemed the mixture of her anger and sexual excitement at having a helpless victim was a powerful combination.

Her eyes cast around wildly and then a cruel smile curled her lips as she saw the candles. She took a large, red candle from a holder and held it over Kat's body.

Tilting the candle the first blob of wax splashed between Kat's breasts. She flinched at the unexpected heat and her head shook from side to side. Bailey moved the candle and a thick trail of wax mirrored its path across her breast. As the wax approached her nipple Bailey moved the candle closer to the maid's body. I knew that this meant, as it had less distance to drip, less time to cool, it would be much hotter and more painful. By the time the first drops of wax fell on Kat's nipple, where it protruded from the clamps, the wick was about an inch from her skin.

Kat twitched and twisted in her bonds, her breath whistling in her nose - but she kept her mouth clamped shut and barely made a noise. Bailey paused in her assault and took another candle, this one green. She started slowly on Kat's other breast, working with cruel, patient intent towards the hard, cruelly clamped nipple at its centre. After a few seconds pause she tilted the candle beyond 90 degrees and splashed the large pool of hot wax gathered in the candle onto Kat's already tortured nipple, encrusting her exposed flesh and the clamp with wax 

Kat panted rapidly and her breasts heaved with the effort of not crying out. Furiously Bailey brought the crop down on the cooling wax and compressed nipple. All she got was a tiny moan and a few disapproving mutters from several of the watchers. She looked around wildly, trying to see who disapproved.

"The bitch is mine to play with, as I see fit." She hissed. "You can cuddle her if you like when it is your turn, but only when I am done with her." I thought I saw a fleck of spittle at the corner of her mouth as she spoke, glaring around.

She took a bigger, white candle and dripped it across Kat's stomach. The final destination for the wax was all too evident, but she took her time. A few drips of wax hissed as they feel into the last of the sauce in the girl's navel. We could all see her flinch with each drop, see her pale skin redden under the wax – but she never made a noise. Then Bailey worked the white ropes lower. The first globs splashed onto her pussy lips and Kat almost levitated from the table, but did not even whimper. I could see the fury in Bailey's almost demented eyes as her victim still refused to cry out. She held the candle upright until a lot of wax had pooled around the wick, then she dumped the lot of it onto Kat's clitoris.

Kat couldn't have seen what was coming, but she must have been expecting it. Her body went horribly rigid and she held her breath until the wax cooled slightly – then she exhaled in a long sigh. It was the sound of relief, as if she knew the worst was over, as if she had weathered the storm.

Bailey gave a ludicrous, little, high-pitched scream of frustration and threw down the candle. It seemed the frustration came from a mixture of sources. She wanted to 'break' Kat but her need for satisfaction had suddenly become stronger. With scrabbling hands she unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off and dropped it on the floor. She started laughing as she climbed on the table, hitched up her skirt, then she squatted with her boot clad feet on either side of Kat's head.

"If I can't make you scream the least you can do is make me come you bitch." She declared as she lowered her cunt on to Kat's face, grinding it into her lips.

"Come on my slut whore, tongue my cunt." She urged. I watched as she grabbed Kat by the hair and lifted her head to more firmly drive her face into the centre of her urgency. Bailey certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, because I could see her wetness coating Kat's chin and cheeks, but I was not. I wanted to intervene and I could see several of the on-lookers glancing at me, obviously willing me to do so. But I held myself in check.

"You're not doing it right." Bailey screamed. She stood up and turned 180 degrees before squatting down on Kat's face again – this time facing down her prone body.

"Lick me bitch!" she demanded and brought the crop down on Kat's right breast. Wax shattered and flew, the chain on the nipple clamps jangled.

Her eyes went dreamy. "That's it, that's the way." Bailey must have felt that encouragement from the crop was obviously having the desired effect and it was rose and fell a few more time, making Kat's tits wobble with each blow.

"That's good slave, get your tongue in nice and deep." She pressed her cunt down further onto Kat, grinding on her. "You're going to make me cum you dirty slut" Bailey crooned. Then she lashed an off-balance swipe at Kat's cunt.

"Good slave, worship the cunt of your Mistres...."

At that moment Bailey screamed in agony and leapt up from Kat's face and down from the table. For a moment she hopped around comically, clutching her groin.

"That fucking bitch bit my clit!" she shrieked.

Then Kat spoke for the first time that evening. Turning her head she stared directly at Bailey and calmly announced.

"You are not my mistress."

I thought Bailey had been angry before, but now she flew into a rage that made everything that went before seem like a mild tantrum. 

"You shitty, disobedient piece of scum. How DARE you talk to me like that you...COMMON....servant class......WHORE!" She bellowed, face turning red with the effort. Then she raised her crop and was obviously ready to fly at Kat, intent on doing serious damage.

In that instant my self-restraint cracked. In a flash, almost without thinking, my hand shot out and I grabbed Bailey's wrist. 

"NO!" I bellowed.

For a second we tussled – my face close to enraged countenance. Then I squeezed until she dropped the riding crop. I let go of her and she stared at me with such a look of disbelief that, under different circumstances, I would have laughed out loud. I had never seen anyone more shocked in my life. I noticed that all other activity in the room had stopped. The silence was thunderous.

I let go of her wrist and I saw her drawing breath to break that silence and I braced myself. Just at that second I heard a voice calling my name, Wren's voice.

"Bastion?!" I could hear the urgency in his tone

Wren and Adam pushed their way through the crowd surrounding Bailey and I, Barton trailing after them. Between them they held my sister's guest, the handsome Arab. My cousins looked worried, grim even. The guy they had a hold of was trying to look unconcerned but his nervousness was betrayed by the way his flicked out, licking his lips and his eyes darted about - as if looking for an escape route.

"What's this about Wren?" I demanded

Wren let go of the guy's arm as Barton stepped forward to take over. He stepped forward, dangling a camera by its strap on his finger.

"We found this guy taking pictures." Wren explained. I took the camera and flipped it over. Clicking through the images on the screen my blood chilled. There, in high quality digital images were the seeds of a scandal to top all scandals. Alice and the Ambassador,

Alice and the Member of Parliament, Mary and the Judge. Finally I gazed at pictures of me, lashing Kat as she lay tied down and defenseless. I shuddered as I pictured the headlines.

I looked up at the man who had planned to bring ruin and disgrace down upon me. The fury that boiled up in me must have been plain on my face. Before I even had a chance to say a word he started blustering, trying to explain, stuttering and spluttering.

'You better let go of me.' He squeaked, trying ineffectually to shrug off the grasp of Barton and Adam. "I'm a reporter....you can't do anything to me. I was only doing my job. Let me go....you can't do anything to me...I'm a reporter." Then he trailed off

as I moved inside his personal space and got close enough to see the sweat springing out of his pores; close enough to smell his fear.

"I don't think you're a reporter?" I hissed. "If you were you'd have a hidden camera. This," I held the camera up in front of me, "is strictly amateur hour stuff." His expression gave him away instantly, I'd guessed right.

"You're just a chancer who thought he get rich by screwing me over! Wannabe paparazzi scum." I felt my rage rising as I thought about how close to tabloid infamy I had come. I stepped back from him and pointed at my guests

"Ever person here is here of their own free will. Every one is a consenting adult, enjoying themselves in the privacy of MY home!!" By now I was close to shouting. 

"And you snuck in here, abusing my hospitality, with the intention of destroying the lives of my friends, intending to ruin me?! Then you try to tell me 'I can't do anything to you'" my voice mimicked his whining, pleading tone. "Even if you were a reporter it isn't some sort of diplomatic immunity."

I am not sure what I would have done next if I hadn't felt a considerable presence looming at my shoulder. The boss of the security company had some how been alerted and was standing beside me.

I help up the camera and didn't say a word. He glanced at the man still being held between Barton and Adam. 

"Sir, I searched him and his luggage personal myself." He spoke like a policeman in court. "I've never seen him at one of your Lordship's parties before, so I took responsibility for him searching him myself." Then he paused in his evidence and continued with certitude. "He did not have a camera on him."

"Then how..." I started to say, before Wren interrupted

"Bailey wasn't searched." He told me, voice flat and inflectionless. "I'm sure she brought the camera." Bailey rewarded him with a flashing look of pure hatred.

My glance flashed back to the security boss and I asked, "Did you search my sister?"

His mouth gaped open; he seemed appalled at the idea. "Search The Lady Bailey? I didn't...I didn't think...I"

I cut him off. "You're right, you didn't think. Get out!"

I turned to face Bailey. She was already the focus of everyone else's attention.

"Got anything to say Bailey?" I asked her, as calmly as I could. "Did you bring the camera in for him?" An obvious conclusion occurred to me as I spoke.

"He isn't your usual 'type' is he Bailey? In fact, I think you brought him along just so he could take pictures. Is that right?"

At that moment I couldn't help feeling a sneaking sense of admiration for my sister. She stood, fists on hips, once again trying by the force of will alone to stare down a room of hostile faces.

"You moron." She spat. "As if I would do such a thing? I have no idea where he got the camera from."

I saw that, at least for the moment, I was wasting my time on Bailey. I turned back to the photographer. "Did Bailey give you the camera?"

Everyone watching could see the truth written on his face, but he started to shake his head, starting to deny it. He was cut short by Barton reaching down and grabbing his cock through his trousers and twisting it savagely. He screamed like a girl until Barton shouted at him,

"Answer the question - truthfully."




Tuition Ch. 04



The man sobbed as he confessed. "Yes..YES! That bitch brought the camera. She told me I'd get £20k for the pictures. It was all HER idea."

I smiled as my suspicions were confirmed. I had to take decisive action now, to nip this in the bud.

I looked at Barton and issued instructions. "Strap that piece of shit to one of the 'sore horses' till I'm ready to deal with him. If he makes the slightest noise you have my permission to twist his cock right off." Perhaps believing my threat he went quietly, lead away by Adam and my butler. 

As they left I noticed that, whilst all the excitement had been taking place, Kat had been untied from her table. Alice had sponged the food and wax from her body with a towel and warm water and was now tenderly massaging her wrists. I caught the French girl's gaze as she did so and could see a worried look cross her face. With a quick nod and a smile I wordlessly let her know that I approved of her actions. Then I turned back to my sister.

Now she looked a little less certain, but she was still trying to appear defiant.

"Why did you do it Bailey?" I said, in my most reasonable voice. She didn't even to appear to hear my question.

Inspiration struck me again. "Where were you going to get twenty thousand pounds from? That's a lot of money for to give an accomplice?" I paused for a second, noticing that Mary had come to my side.

"How much were you going to get for the pictures Bailey? What's it worth to sell out your family these days?"

Bailey sighed with mock boredom. "You are such a tiresome prick Bastion." Then the rage that she had damped down suddenly flared up. "You cut off my trust fund you CUNT! What did you expect me to live on? Huh?" Then she smiled.

"I am...I was...going to get a million pounds for exposing you bunch of sick perverts; a million pounds." She sounded gleeful.

"Even without the pictures my story is going to be worth a fortune. And there is nothing..NOTHING any of you can do about it!"

I felt movement at my side. Mary took two steps forward, drew her arm back and delivered a round arm slap to Bailey's face. Mary was panting with fury as she shouted. 

"How could you even think of doing that to your family?!"

Bailey was aghast; her hand went to her face, touching the cheek that bore the red imprint of Mary's hand. I guessed that this experience was a completely new one to her. Almost instantly tears flooded from her eyes.

More sad than angry she wailed, "Why do you always take Bastion's side? You've always hated me Mary, always."

Then I heard Mary say, in a completely different tone of voice,

"You couldn't be more wrong Bailey." Her words were unmistakably tender. "I have always loved you dear." Mary turned to me and came closer. "But despite that, I think your sister deserves to be punished Bastion."

"Yes....I agree." I nodded, realizing that Mary was really more of a mother to both Bailey and I than the woman my father married

With these thoughts in mind I grasped her hand and lead her away from Bailey slightly, then drew her to me and hugged her tenderly.

"You always had our best interests at heart, didn't you Mary? Even when Bailey was so difficult?"

Her eyes suddenly glistened with unshed tears. "I blamed myself," she whispered. 'I thought that she knew that you were my....my favourite..and that was why she behaved so badly."

I brushed away the tears from her cheeks with a gentle fingertip. "I think she was always going to rebel Mary, it had nothing to do with you. You were so even-handed I used to think that you favoured her." I told her and watched a tremulous smile blossom on her lips.

"We'll talk all about this again later." I continued. "But not here, not in front of everyone. La Mottes don't make a scene." 

Then we heard Bailey's complaints getting louder and I laughed. "Well, Bailey was always the exception to any rule."

With my arm protectively around Mary's shoulder I turned my attention back to Bailey. Mary's slap seemed to have temporarily taken the wind from her sails but she was building up a new head of steam, swearing and ranting. I noticed that Barton and Wren had returned from dealing with the photographer.

"I think Bailey needs to be taught a lesson, to be punished." I announced, a bit like a judge pronouncing sentence. "A punishment that fits the La Motte tradition." 

I stopped and looked around. "Does anyone disagree?" 

There was no sound apart from Bailey's mouth opening and shutting in shock 

"Barton? Wren? Put her on the cross."

This broke Bailey's brief silence and she started to shriek and flail at my cousin and the butler. But they quickly grabbed her arms, even getting help from a couple of guests, and lifted off her feet between them. I heard Bailey screaming, "Bastion? Bastion!" but I ignored and went to check on Kat.

She stood by the table she had recently adorned, looking a little shaky. Alice still hovered at her side, looking at me reproachfully. As I walked towards them I shooed Alice away and she scurried off with a glance and a smile for Kat. I stopped a pace away and looked her up and down. Her smile was a little crooked, but at least it was a smile. I smiled back. Alice had done a good job cleaning her, but I could still see angry red marks across her body where the wax had scalded. Her nipples bore the marks of the clamps and when I looked further down I saw the stripes left by crop and I winced at the memory.

She must have caught my expression. She quickly dropped her eyes and started to speak quietly. "I disobeyed, you....had to...I know you had option but to......"

I silenced her by taking her chin gently between thumb and forefinger, raising her face until I was gazing into her sky-blue eyes. Then, only when I had her full attention, did I speak.

"Katerina Soren, you are not to try and excuse or justify my actions and commands. You are just to accept them, to submit to them. Do you understand?"

I waited till her head nodded and I released her chin. I found myself stroking her cheek with the back of my hand.

"Good." was all I found myself able to say.

I noticed Wren out of the corner of my and snapped out my unexpected and tender reverie to turn to him.

We stared at each other for a moment. Then he slowly spoke. "I'm sorry Bastion."

"What for?" I asked.

He only half answered my question. "Bailey kept asking me what you were up to, when she and I met........to....Well I didn't see what the harm was....in feeding her a few bits of gossip. She was always very....grateful....if you know what I mean?"

Without smiling I said, "So she fucked you to get the dirt on me?"

Wren had the good grace to look hang-dog. "Yeah, I guess so. But I swear I didn't know she was passing it on to the press. Shit, if I'd know that, obviously I wouldn't have."

I let him wind down to silence, leaving him dangling on the hook just a little longer. Then I allowed myself a hint of a smile as I asked

"So, you and Bailey eh? What was that like?"

Wren looked at me, trying to gauge me real mood, and risked a smile of his own. 

"What do you think it was like?" Then he laughed. "A fucking nightmare was what it was like. Constantly barking orders, 'slower, faster', stuff like that." 

Wren stopped, "and she never came, never had an orgasm, whatever I tried - which

was a bit of blow to my pride, if you know what I mean?"

I nodded in sympathy

Wren carried on. "She blamed me for that, even though she admitted she'd never had an orgasm, not from fucking anyway." He shook his head sadly, "Poor bitch."

Then he smiled as he recalled, "Then, one time she got extra bossy. I'm doing my best and she was shouting 'harder, deeper' so I shouted back at her 'tighter, wetter!' Laughing, he continued. "And that was that. She got up and left without another word. Never called me again."

"I'm not surprised." I responded "Bailey never accepted even a polite request in her life, let alone an order". I sighed.

"You were 'played' Wren, manipulated by a maestro. But you came good in the end, didn't you?

I saw him start to smile when he began to believe I was going to let him off, but I could see he was puzzled by my question. 

"You ended up on the side of the angels at the end? You caught that photographer?"

He looked relieved and shrugged. "What else was I going to do? It was actually Barton who first noticed him acting suspiciously. He came and told me and Adam and we grabbed him."

"So I have Barton to thank as well as you and Adam?" That gave me pause for thought. Perhaps he was worthy of a bonus?

We both turned when we heard a foul tirade coming from the other end of the room. Barton and Adam were strapping Bailey to the St Andrews Cross and she obviously didn't like it one bit.

Wren glanced down at the table and picked up a ball-gag. "That noise reminds me of what I came over here for." he laughed. He strode off and shortly afterwards the noise level dropped considerably.

I pointed down at the table from which Wren had taken the gag, ordering Kat to take several of the items. "Come with me." I took her by the hand and lead her towards the cross where the other guests were gathering, anxious for the dénouement. 

Bailey was strapped to the cross - front on. Barton was fastening the last leather strap around one her ankles, whilst Adam held it to stop her kicking back. Wren had gotten the gag in her mouth, a braver man than many obviously. But this didn't stop Bailey trying to curse every one of us, turning to glare over her shoulder, eyes wide and wild. We could hear her muffled invective and shouting, muffled by the gag.

Without preamble I took the 'safety scissors' from Kat. I always kept a pair ready at my parties in case some needed releasing quickly from bindings quickly, in case of a medical emergency. Designed to cut ropes, they made short work of Bailey's leather skirt. In her fury she was trying to fight the straps, shaking with rage, making her now exposed arse jiggle before the crowd.

Then I took a second item from Kat, my favourite cane, 4ft long and thick as my middle finger. I flexed it to test the spring in its length. Then I announced to the guests.

"I am feeling a little 'biblical' right now." I said and smiled. "Maybe I should quote the passage, 'vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord?'" I got a polite laugh from those who got the pun on my title. Or perhaps it just wasn't as funny as I had thought.

I pressed on. "No, not that one. But I am staying with the Old Testament, my favourite, and I am going to take Leviticus 24:20 and adapt it a bit, 'eye for eye, tooth for tooth. As he has injured the other, so he is to be injured.' Then I paused, "Or in this case, she is to be injured."

With a flourish I handed the cane to Kat. "I want you to punish Bailey. It is your right." 



Tuition Ch. 05



~Kat~

It took a long moment to realize what had been asked of me.

My chilled fingers curled around the hard length of cane and like my own feeling of dread, it too weighed greatly on me. I could do naught more but stare at it and the tanned hands that left it in my care. My body ached, both the assault from Barton's punishment and now that which I had endured strapped to the table. Stripes of heated flesh reminded me that this mewling aristocrat had added to them, but what had enraged me more was her assumption that I was hers. 

My gaze lifted and I knew I was glowering. Thinking logically, I knew that aside from my rather vague working contract in this home, there was nothing tying me here, especially not in the manner of which my work experience here over the last few days had transformed into.

Nothing except him. I didn't need a formal contract, a list of rules, or a safe word like Alice had grumbled about continuously this morning. There was nothing written, nothing spoken and agreed upon, and yet...I knew who he was to me. Even if I wasn't sure I understood it yet. And she – even if she was his sister – was not my mistress.

Even thinking the word made fury spark through me.

Yet still, I could not bring myself to move. My eyes met hers, ball-gagged and arse-flashing pearly white beneath black leather, she looked pathetic even as she tainted the room with her venom, daring me to strike and then suffer the consequences once she was free. It was not fear of retribution that stayed my hand though. Nay...It was a thought; an epiphany of pure viciousness that I should even have been ashamed to admit was conjured by my mind. And yet I smiled all the same.

I recalled Wren's conversation with the Earl, word for word as I tentatively took a step closer, a small blush stole over my bare flesh as my heels clicked on the smooth floor and the movement drew the guest's eyes to me. I tried to recall his words to me, and satisfied that when he had handed me the cane he had not specifically asked me to use it, I leant it against the table and faced her from the other side of the cross.

She was quite simply furious. Her face sported a rather fetching panda-look; beads of perspiration dotted her forehead and caused her hair to sick to her skin unattractively. I sank to my knees, but not in supplication, for she was the one who was bound and in no way deserving. 

"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. As he has injured the other, so he is to be injured. Or in this case, she is to be injured."

With Bailey, it was not her body I would attack. It was her indifference, her contempt I sought to crumple, it was her pride I would injure, and as I let my hands drift beneath the cool beam of wood to pull her hips forward, she soon found I was more determined than her to accomplish my goal and bring her to heel. My nails left half moons on her skin as I dug in and brought her to my mouth. I toyed, languorously teased and retreated as she fought her bonds. The ball gag muffled what I knew were commands, demands, and when I released her mouth from its confinement, I joyously ignored them still. I played with her on my time, listening to the sound of her breathing grow laboured, felt the quickening of her body as I filled her first with one finger and then two and circled her clit with my tongue. I did what the headmistress had done to me, and though that lady had sought to give me pleasure and an ending, I merely tormented. I learnt swiftly what brought her closer and closer, and soon she stopped her struggles, she stopped her commands and began her entreaties, her body pliant as I put my newly learnt skills to use. Wren's words rang in my head and as I left Bailey hanging from that edge once more with my fingers, her vicious tongue now begging mine to continue.

"Make me come..." She almost whispered.

I let my gaze drift to the Earl over her hip.

How better to destroy her pride, than to be denied.

"Make me come..." She almost whispered. 

I let my gaze drift to the Earl over her hip.



Tuition Teacher Fucked by Student



Hi, I'm Anil from Delhi. This was the another sexual experience I had when I was studying in 12th standard. I was always poor in the subject of geography, so my mother asked the lady next door to give me special tuitions for it. Her name is Ekta. She is an old family friend of ours. She is an extremely sober natured lady with a very sweet face and milky white skin. I always secretly admired her beautiful body and the way it gracefully moved when she walked or sat or did anything. Her taste of clothes was also ever as sober and decent, generally in pastel shades of pink, blue, or cream. She always wore only sarees. Her attitude towards me was very warm and concerned, and took extra interest in training me in the subject of geography. She was a teacher of this subject in a school other than mine. 

Ekta was still single and lived alone as she had lost her parents in childhood. I knew that because of this she was a very lonely woman. Being so beautiful and only 29 years old (10 years older to me), she could still get married to any fine and worthy businessman. But whoever brought her any proposals; she showed no interest in getting married. Sometimes I felt like she considered me as her one and only good friend. 

As she gave me tuitions I used to feel more attracted to her irresistible body. While her eyes and mind were engrossed in reading and explaining the text books to me, my eyes would fantasize over her pallu which used to fall off her shoulders once in a while when her blouse would give way for glimpses of her bra. This made me suffer of sleepless nights. I used to hate myself to think like this of a decent lady like her who was always so nice to me. But I think she guessed what I was going through because of poor attention during the tuitions. She tried to inquire why I was not paying enough attention. I didn't know how to answer that. But she was still kind and nice to me. She treated me like a younger brother, and so occasionally while teaching me she would put her fingers through my hair on the head and caress me. 

She always wore sweet smelling perfumes. So when her hand touched me the fragrance made me loose total control of my senses. On one such occasion she noticed what was happening with me. She frankly asked me to be absolutely honest with what was distracting me so much. I told her that I found her very beautiful. She smiled and assured me that she fully understood what I meant. I blushed in total embarrassment and ran home. The next few days I didn't have guts to go for any classes with her. She rung up at my place and spoke to my mother asking her to send me for the classes again. As my mother knew nothing of the recent developments between Ekta and me, mummy forced me to go to Ekta's house to resume tuitions as there was very little time left for my exams. Finally I agreed and went to Ekta for the class. 

Today she also looked embarrassed and didn't know how to start the class. Finally she broke the ice by being very frank with me. She told me that she knew exactly what I'm going through, and then explained that such feelings are natural during adolescence. I thought to myself that it is okay that she has understood as well as explained to me the facts, but I wondered what was to happen next. She took me to her bedroom where we always studied at the desk. But this time instead of sitting at the desk she asked me to sit on her single bed which was almost as large as a double. Sitting close to me she looked me straight in the eye. Gazing at me so strongly that I shivered in nervousness wondering if she was going to scold me badly. I noticed sadness in her face with tears filling up her eyes. Yet she smiled and shared her feelings to me. She explained that she too felt the need to hold someone dear to her and that she felt terribly lonely in life. This was the first time she ever told me openly that she also loved me very much, and that it was okay if we made love to each other. 

I was totally taken by surprise to hear all this. At the same time I had butterflies in my mind and body for the fact that my desire for seeing and feeling her body was going to come true. She was wearing a deep pink floral patterned saree with a cherry red blouse. She gently took the pallu of her saree off her shoulder and handed it to me. I got too excited just to see her firm and healthy boobs in the blouse. I was so engrossed into the shining hooks of her blouse that I forgot all about her pallu which I was holding. This made her laugh loudly, saying that she had never seen anyone as innocent as me. This provoked my male ego and I felt the need to prove to her that I wasn't all that innocent as she thought. First of all I hugged her tightly to make us both comfortable with feeling each other's body. She also cajoled me very skillfully. Now I knew I was going to learn the real geography from her, that too the geography of her. If there were chapters like these in my geography text book, then I would surely pass out with flying colours.

Ekta stood up in front of me while her pallu was still in my hand, and she guided me to unwrap her body from the bindings of the saree. Once I was through with removing the saree, she turned around in full circle to give me a full view of her figure from every angle. She was wearing a light pink colour petticoat. I felt like the captain of the ship which was to navigate through all the mountains and caves of her atlas map. Taking full command of my 8" ship I undocked into the silky smooth material of her blouse with my desperate fingers. I opened each hook of the blouse with my fingers timelessly as they enjoyed the softness of her breasts. Inside was a lacy bra, pink in colour again. Seemed like she was celebrating a Pink Day. As I slipped the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms, I lay my head on her breasts. They were so welcoming, as they allowed my entire head to sink in between their warm, massive, fleshy coziness. I felt her heartbeats pumping like a power generator. Sweat dripping from her chin onto my head. She was already gasping for breath. 

My hands crept over to her back trying to reach out for the hooks of the bra. I realized that it was a front open bra. So as I opened the bra from front, I was electrified to get the first view of her perfectly round and tight boobs. Each prized with a tender pink tiny nipple against her milky white skin. Her upper body was fully bare. Now I had to work on undressing her from under the waist. She tried to wait patiently, but her own life-long sexual frustration causing desperation made her press my head against her navel so tightly that I was getting suffocated. Releasing me after a few seconds, she dragged me by my hair to the bed, and took off my shirt, shorts and all, within no time. She adored the male organ which I guess she had seen for the first time and that too in a fully erect position. I noticed her mouth dripping as she glared at it. She shyly smiled and brought her head close to the dick that had already started ejaculating. 

At first she rubbed her nose on the head of my dick. Then gradually began licking the cum squirting out more rapidly. Ekta really enjoyed this part. But before she went any further, I convinced her that it will be easier to carry on with our adventures once she is fully undressed. Agreeing to my suggestion she lay down on the bed spreading her arms and legs widely and asked me to finish undressing her. It was only her petticoat and panty that I had to remove now. And I didn't want to do it in a hurry. So I reached for her toes, and gradually lifting the petticoat upwards, licked her legs. Once the petticoat was lifted upto her upper thighs, I raised her left leg and placed it on my shoulder. Then the same with her right leg. Now with both her legs on my shoulders, I kissed the inside of her thighs and at the same time rubbing massaging the outer part of the thighs. She was too blissful and asked for more and more. 

Suddenly she got up and asked me to wait. I asked her why and she said she had an idea with which we could both enjoy better. She went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of strawberry jam. I thought she was hungry after all this exhaustive session and wanted us to have some meal break. Instead she lay down again in the same position, opened the jam bottle and applied some on her thighs where I was licking her. Then asked me to continue by licking the jam on her thigh as well. I was quite impressed with her fantastic innovation. With all this excitement I didn't want to delay undressing her anymore. I quickly untied the string of her petticoat and pulled it down her legs instantly. Now I could see her fully naked legs, smoother than satin or silk. She was quite a sight for me to be lying there on the bed with nothing on except the white cotton panty with 'pink' hearts printed on it and laced borders. My heart was almost popping out of my chest. 

Everything she wore on that day looked brand new, as if she was specially prepared for the whole seduction. I didn't need to feel guilty anymore; the desire was equal from both ends. I comfortably loosened the elastic waistband of her panty, massaging her hips at same time. She moaned in ecstasy raising her warm sexy legs to make it easier for me to pull off her panty. As I slowly lowered the panty from her waist, I got the first view of her divine pussy. There was a light tuft of hair on the pubic area, soft as fur. As I felt the hair, the tingling sensation got her more excited. There were high voltage currents passing through our bodies. She breathed heavier by the second. Finally neither of us could afford to hold ourselves in control. Both reaching the height of orgasm, we leapt and attacked each other violently.

I held her tightly under my arms which suddenly changed in strength from that of a school boy to an indomitable beast. She too was impressed with my never before seen strength. While holding her unsparingly I thrust my giant dick into the endless tunnel of lust. I fucked her harder than I imagined I could, and she also contributed by taking various positions accordingly. I knocked her from front, I knocked her from back. Squeezed out whatever juices she possessed in her pussy and the boobs. Her breasts had swollen with no limits. Nipples were hard as metal bolts. Thunder running through our bodies, we tried every position that anyone could rarely even imagine, all within fractions of time. Digging deeper into her pussy I chewed her tits till they were red or even purple. In one position while I was fucking her from the back, I spread her legs wide apart, so much that her hole was wide enough to let in the dick of a dinosaur. For now I was the dinosaur. I slashed my tongue turbulently at her centre of gravity and then jolted my bolt into it innumerable times with lightning speed. She had also lost all her sobriety and like a devil sent from hell, sucked on my dick at first and then chewed on it mercilessly which we had been made more delicious with the strawberry jam for flavour. After all these adventurous exploitations of each other's innocence which had continued for nearly four hours, we concluded thankfully, promising to keep this as top secret and to be generous whenever each was in need for it again. We carried on experimenting new styles and positions frequently for the next ten years until I got married. Ekta is still single, and I am still loyal to her for giving me the big breakthrough when I needed it most. To prove my loyalty I still visit her lonely house and we still practice the same with complete dedication. 

We've explained to my wife that Ekta & I meet for intensive transcendental physiology study and she has never suspected till today. I had secretly stolen and still preserved Ekta's that day's pink lace bra and the white panty with pink hearts on it. I cuddle them and kiss them on the days I want her and we're not able to meet. On such occasions I also smear strawberry jam on my dick and ask my wife to lick it up. My wife has become an expert in such blow jobs and does it most willingly and happily, although she has always wondered what the mystery behind all this is. But that mystery will forever remain a secret only between Ekta and me. 

Comments are welcome at the link below, any girl/ women in and around delhi want some sincere friend, then contact me on my email mail. I like to make friends,



Tuition Time



This story was mostly written by my sister. She's been a writer of fine poetry and short stories for years, but she was inspired to write her first erotic short story after a real life experience. She has been single all her life and a teacher for nearly 20 years (you'll actually learn more personal details as you read her story). What she brought to me in draft awhile back was amazingly stimulating, for her supposed first venture into the erotic. For an older brother it was at first a bit embarrassing to read but by the time I had helped her edit the story and use language and phrasing she had never dreamed of using before it got rather stimulating for me to say the very least! By the way, she and I collaborated mostly on-line for this although she lives only 20 minutes away. We did not dare sit in the same room and write together, it would likely have been most embarrassing for the both of us!  

So, without further aggrandizement, let me let her story entertain and hopefully arouse your senses (amongst other things) on its own merit. 

(As a footnote, my sister knows I have been a Literotica fan and submitter for some time now and I introduced her to the site a few months back. She was taken in by the eroticism of the chat room feature and has admitted to an enjoyable late night or two, or three on-line there. – With all that said, she has asked that I share this story with other Lit fans. Enjoy...as I'm sure her young lover continues to enjoy her!)     

A woman and younger man had met earlier in their lives and now meet again a few years later...now as more than teacher and student. 

David and Reese tell the story in their own words... 

According to David... When I got my spring tuition statement in the mail that week, I knew I was going to be plenty short or at least it was going to wipe out my checking account. Last semester had already pretty much taken everything my parents had saved up for my tuition. We had the agreement for my junior and senior year for me to pay for my room and board. I had been a little less than thrifty and spent too much of my summer job earnings on a blowout car stereo and new video games. Knowing my Dad, he would take out yet another loan he and Mom really could not afford to bail me out. I couldn't go asking them to do that for me yet again. I was now twenty-one and officially an adult. I needed to take care of this just as I promised. I had just enough in my account to cover the room costs, but if I wanted to eat and have spending money, not to mention date funds, I was on my own. Only getting a job wasn't the only problem. I was taking a full load the next semester, part of the consequence of screwing around my first couple years and now instead of slacking my final senior semester I had to take an extra two classes to be able to graduate on time with my friends. Finally, if I wanted to keep my place on the wrestling team and the partial scholarship I did have, I had to work around practice and meets somehow. With that overloaded schedule I couldn't be working every afternoon or workday evening. I had to find a job that would pay good enough for just working weekends. 

After my last class on a Tuesday, I practically ran to the gym to get there in time for wrestling practice. Later, after a quick bite I went to the library to study for a couple more hours. I was on my way back to my dorm when I saw one of my buddies. He was talking to a very good looking older woman. 

As I walked by, he noticed me. "Hey, David, come over here and let me introduce you to Professor Lindsay. I have her for Advanced Lit." 

This very appealing woman reached out her hand, "Hi David." 

Professor Lindsay was not the typical woman most people would picture being a college professor. She looked to be in her early 30s. And with that long blonde hair and long legs she was more than gorgeous. I took her soft hand in mine, "Hi, Professor Lindsay." The touch of her skin was nice and warm. 

Before my sexy daydream of Professor Lindsay was able to get too far along, Nick brought me back to Earth. 

"David, Ms. Lindsay was just telling me her sister has this business that she needs some help with and is looking for a couple of guys to work for her. I know you were telling me you were looking to pick up some cash this coming semester."

"Yea, I do need a job. It just has to be on the weekend, and not on some Saturday afternoons, when we have away wrestling matches." 

"Not a problem." Professor Lindsay said. "It would be Friday and Saturday nights, usually later in the evenings. You could pretty much work your own schedule. Besides I think you'd be a perfect fit for this job." She said as she looked me up and down and smiled. 

I smiled back, wondering just what she meant.

I heard keys jingle behind me and realized I was in a daze again looking at the beautiful Professor Lindsay. 

"Hey, dude. I'll leave you two to negotiate. I hope it turns out to be big money for you." Nick turned to go. "See you in class tomorrow Professor Lindsay."

"Sure, Nick. Remember, we'll be discussing Keats and Yeats. Do that reading assignment."

Professor Lindsay turned her attention back to me. Again she eyed me up and down. It actually made me a bit uncomfortable getting the once over from a professor. But another part of me kind of enjoyed it.

"So David, do you think you'd be interested in seeing what my sister has to offer?"

"What the heck," I said, "I need the cash." I took the card from her well manicured fingers and agreed to meet her sister the next day.

The next evening I found myself sitting in front of another 'Professor' Lindsay. Nick's Professor Lindsay had failed to tell me her sister, Annie, was her twin right down to the same long tanned legs.  

"Are you twenty-one?" This Ms. Lindsay asked.  "Yea, I turned twenty-one last August," I answered.

"And you play a sport?" she asked.

"Uh huh, I've wrestled since I was a freshman in high school."

"You're a real athlete then. Excellent!" Annie smiled and jotted another note on her clipboard. "Have you ever modeled before?"

"No." I said, "Well, unless you count that calendar thing we did my sophomore year to raise money for our trip out to California for the Greco-Roman tournament." 

"This is a bit more 'active' modeling David." Annie added. "But if you are really interested we can talk specifics later." 

"I think I can handle modeling," I said, "can't be that hard getting dressed up and walking around for pictures."

"Well, it might be more than just getting dressed up. Actually it more involves getting dressed down." Annie said and I caught the smirk on her face as she bit down on the end of the pen looking for my reaction.

I was honest, and really felt it when I said, "I can handle wearing trunks or stuff like that."

"I'm talking about a bit more 'dressed down' than that, David." Annie peered over the top of her glasses now.

"You mean like an underwear model?" I knew my eyes responded along with my voice. "David, I'll be honest with you, this is where I lose most of my applicants. This job is one of a more personal nature. It's more of a service and involves less modeling than it does dancing. When I say dancing, I mean getting up in front of women at sorority parties and for other groups of women that enjoy the sight of a young man's virile body."  

"Oh," was my simple response.

"Just something about you tells me you are truly cut out for this kind of work or rather entertainment. It is entertainment David. I can guarantee you at least a hundred dollars a night and for some of the jobs three times that. And that does not include tips you can earn. You've got the kind of body the ladies will pay big bucks for, trust me." 

My eyes had to have widened at the sound of that kind of money. Annie was biting her lip now, maybe she anticipating me turning down her offer like so many others. 

I thought of the possibilities. The pros included making some good money, in just weekend nights like I was looking for. The cons were standing up in front of a bunch of women showing off my body, that and what the guys would think if they found out. The latter I figured I could handle, especially for the money. As for the former, getting up in front of a bunch of women was both appealing and exciting to think about.  

"So, do you think you'd be interested?" 

"The pay sounds more than okay." Now I bit my lip. Thought for another moment and then said, "What the hell, it's worth a shot."

"Great, come back tomorrow night and we'll get you set up with outfits and I'll show you the ropes." 

So that weekend I went to work...and worked on through the spring semester. 

*****

Reese... The last couple of weeks of school had been so stressful. It was so close to summer vacation, and my young students knew it. I couldn't complain too much, this group of boys and girls were some of my best and I had been teaching for years now. I started with the younger ones in my early years and moved on to junior high school. I had just started back with third graders when I came up to Northern Virginia and to this school two years ago. 

Only three more weeks to go, I thought as I pulled out of the parking lot Friday afternoon. As I got on the highway, my cell rang. I looked over and saw it was Jenna, a teacher friend of mine. She taught at the high school. 

"Hey girl, how're you doing?" Jenna said before I could even say 'hello'.

"Great, I'm ready for the weekend now though." I answered honestly.

"So you're still going to be here tonight, right?" She asked.

"I wouldn't miss it. I'm ready for a good girl's night out." I replied.

"Okay, see you soon. Bye. Kisses." she said quickly and hung up.

I had received the invitation from Jenna a couple weeks earlier to come to a lingerie party she was hosting. 

For some time after I had been more than a little embarrassed by what happened at the party. But in the last few days I've come to appreciate just how pleasing and satisfying a time we all had, during and after the party. That's why I'm writing this story...

*****

David... After a couple of months working my new job, I couldn't deny the paycheck was more than good for only two or three hours of work on Friday and Saturday nights. Needless to say, I soon found other fringe benefits came with the part-time job. I got to meet some very hot women. I ended up with a handful of dates out of it, mostly from the sorority gigs. 

Another, more subtle benefit was being able to act on a life-long fantasy of being a little bit of an exhibitionist. My new job was the ultimate, being a male dancer.  

And it was a few months into the job, now close to June and I had one of the most exciting gigs I had ever had. At first it had been somewhat of an embarrassing experience. But by the next day I had felt just how lucky a man I had become. That's why I'm writing this story... 

*****

Reese... We were all friends and we had been meeting like this for the last several months for a girl's night. This month was Jenna's turn and she was having it at her house. Jenna's husband was on a business trip, so we women had the whole house to ourselves. Little did I know when I walked in her front door that I was in for an experience I would not soon forget. 

By nine-thirty, Lisa, the party hostess, had all of us hyped on the sexy outfits and accessories she had on display. The alcohol had been flowing since we all had walked in the door at 7:30. Personally, I am not much of a drinker, so the two drinks I had had already and the third that Jenna had just put in my hand was warming me through and through. 

At this point, the door bell rang, and Jenna jumped up off the floor. 

"Okay now ladies, everyone needs to freshen up their drinks," she said as she walked toward the stairs, "while I go get our dessert!" Jenna practically skipped out of the room and up the stairs, assumedly toward the front door. 

We all looked at one another and shrugged. None of us appeared to have a clue as to what Jenna was doing. We heard the door open and close, in between voices conversed, but all too low to hear what was being said.

"I'll be right back, too." Lisa then said and headed upstairs herself.

I took another swallow of my drink and told the other girls in the room, "I keep drinking these things and I won't be awake long enough to have dessert."   

*****

David... I got the call from Angie last Wednesday. She had set me up with a private party on Saturday night. I had not thought anything different about this job; it was just another one in a woman's private home. I parked down the street and walked up to the house. I had never been in this neighborhood and just walking by each house on the way all I could think of was who could stand to live in houses this big. 

I came to the one, 416 Mahogany Place. The house had to be the biggest on the block. It was beautiful though, built with a nice stone front. My client and her husband must have some real money. Selfishly at that moment all I could think of was how much of a generous tip I might earn from someone like that. 

I was to be there at 9:30. I was told the party would already be in full swing by the time I arrived. I looked at my watch as I stepped up on the front stoop. It was 9:28. This was my thirtieth or thirty-first party, but only the fourth at a private residence. Although I had gotten the routine down, for some reason I was anxious about this party and my heart was racing more than usual as I rang the doorbell.

The door opened and before me stood a very stunning woman that looked to be in her late 30s. But the most extraordinary thing about her was I was practically looking her directly in the eye. I'm about 6'2" and she was almost right at my height. She had to be almost six feet tall herself. 

"Hi, you must be our dessert, I mean entertainment, for tonight, young man." The striking woman extended her hand to me with a huge smile on her lovely face. "I'm Jenna Caldwell." 

"Good evening, Ms. Caldwell. I'm David." I took her hand, but found myself focusing down on her chest. She was wearing a print blouse and it was cut and open enough to provide a very ample view of her more than generous breasts. Her long brown hair cascaded down over one breast and down to where it reached nearly down to her waist. When my lingering gaze finally made it back up to her face I was met with a set of deep brown eyes that seemed to burn right through me.  "Please, call me Jenna. Come on in." She said as she stood aside and let me step into her foyer. "The party has already started as I told your employer, but you are right on time. We just need to get you dressed."

"Yes, I just need a bathroom to change in." I told her as I held up my little outfit bag.

"Oh, no, I've got it all set up for you down in our study, just follow me." I followed this drop-dead gorgeous woman down a short hall. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. The heels looked to be at least a couple of inches high. So, even with those she was still pretty tall.  When I walked in the study behind her I saw another woman already there. She was sorting through what looked like an array of women's lingerie. My nervous meter started clanging immediately.  "Oh Lisa, this is David, he's here to model the men's underwear." Jenna said to the woman. "David, this is Lisa. She's our hostess for Nicolette's Lingerie."

"Hi, nice to meet you," I offered. But I didn't get a return cordiality.

"What? You didn't tell me about this. I've never used a model before. In fact, I'm sure I'm not supposed to. I've only been selling for only a couple of months now though. But I'm sure it's not right."

"Oh, calm down girl. I think the ladies downstairs will be very interested in seeing your line of male undergarments displayed on a real model. And I think we have just the right young man for the job. Come on what do you say?"

"I don't know." Lisa pondered in front of us both. 

I began to ponder myself just what I was getting into here. I had come to dance for a private party, pretty much my usual routine. And now...

"Tell you what, I'll buy everything he wears and promise you at least another $500 in business whether the girls downstairs place that many orders or not." She talked to Lisa, but turned to look in my direction and eye me up and down again. "I have a feeling you are going to get a lot of orders looking at what our model here is going to do for filling out those nice male things." 

I could swear her gaze ended at just below my waist at that last comment. I self-consciously crossed my arms down in front of myself as I stood there in my jeans.

"Uh, Mrs. Caldwell." I started to stammer nervously I knew, "actually, I thought I was going to be performing a routine like I usually do. Are you sure all you want me to do is model some boxers?"

"Yes, we need you as a model for tonight, David. Is that okay?" Mrs. Caldwell asked. "And please, no more 'Mrs. Caldwell', I'm Jenna, please."

"I guess, but did Annie tell you I've never actually modeled before?" I had to admit to her. 

"Oh I know. Annie mentioned that, but she also mentioned you have received rave reviews from all her other customers. You come highly recommended for your, well let just say, your attributes." Again, I got the 'look' that ended up with a not so casual gaze down the front of my jeans again. "Also, besides doubling your normal fee, I expect you'll pick up some very healthy tips with a good performance tonight. My friends are mighty generous."  "I'm very glad to hear I have a good reputation with my prior work. I'm also glad you feel I can do this job for you." I was building my confidence as I was trying not to let the compliments go straight to my male ego and the dollar signs flash in front of my eyes.

"So, can we get on with this and get you changed now?" Jenna said, as she and Lisa sorted through some of the clothing.

"Ok, I'll model your underwear."

As Jenna looked me up and down, a sly smile formed on her lips. "There are at least five outfits, well, more like boxers or briefs and a matching robe that we want you to model. You can choose the one you want to start with."

"I can do that." I said.

"Good, then get changed and let me know when you're ready." Jenna said and turned toward the door. "Okay, Lisa, lets give the young man some privacy and get back to the girls." With that the two women left me alone in the room. 

*****

Reese... A few minutes later, Jenna popped back downstairs with Lisa following behind her.

"Okay girls, I need just a minute or two more to get our treat for the night ready." Jenna then turned to our hostess, "Lisa you go ahead and start passing out the order forms." 

Then she turned to address the other six of us in the room again, "Ladies, be generous now, and place orders on what you've seen so far. I'll be back with our treat so you can have another opportunity to spend some more cash out of those designer handbags you all carry." 

Before any of us could ask a question, she turned and bounded back up the steps.

*****

David... I shed my 'street' clothes and picked up the paisley patterned silk boxers that were on top. Next to them was a matching silk robe. I had never worn anything this fancy before, but the minute I slipped the boxers on over my shiny g-string, my outfit for my finale most nights. These boxers were more than just fancy and expensive, they felt very comfortable. The material was light and cool against my skin. It felt so good, and rubbed against my crotch just so right. 

I was starting to feel too good. This was a paying job and it wouldn't do to get excited in front of the women in some sales lady's clothes. I closed my eyes and thought about my physics exam coming up next Tuesday and that helped. I picked up the robe and slipped it on.




Tuition



"You beg so prettily." He shoved his cock forward in all my wetness, rubbing back and forth against my arse, entering lightly only to withdraw again and again, teasing me, tormenting me with his body as he nipped at my earlobe, his rough hands settling between me and the table at my swollen breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at my nipples as he licked his tongue along my neck. He pulled harder on my nipples, pulling them right out from my body, as I screamed, the pleasure and pain of his actions mixing, making me wetter, my entire body aching with intense need and unable to even get close to sating it myself.

"Please, please Master." I moaned loudly, my voice echoing like tormented art around the walls until he finally rammed into me, my entire body went rigid with the sharp agony as he took my virginity and pounded against me. The tortured skin of my backside took the brunt of his weight as he pistoned his cock in and out of me, over and over, never slowing. As I felt my pussy ripple around him, clamping down as I screamed in release, the raw pain of my body did nothing to hinder the explosion inside me as my body was finally freed from the aching captive coil of tension, my body arching harshly against the invading cock, feeling him press points inside me I could only have dreamed existed as I began to collapse against the table while he continued to fuck me. His hand entwined in my hair once more and yanked back as I felt him twitch inside me, a sound close to a roar escaping him as he finally pulled out of my pussy and I felt the heated jets of his cum spill over my skin, running in stinging rivulets over my reddened flesh; shivering as it traced the crack of my arse, and landed in shuddering droplets over my pussy and clit to mix with the pool of our combined fluids and my blood on the floor beneath us.

"So prettily." He growled in my ear.

I knew. I knew deep inside my soul the moment his deep voice breathed in my ear. While I was bound and spread before him while his cum dripped from my sweating body, that I would be honoring my contract...