Properly Theirs, page 6
part #10 of Victorian Correction Series
The earl accepted the letter, and read with mounting pleasure the words there inscribed in a delicate, rounded, feminine hand.
Red Meadows, Tuesday
Dearest Sir,
I am pleased to inform you, my sweet, severe, hard-pricked master, that your ward Miss Caroline Montgomery received her first whipping today, as you had specified she should, upon the slightest pretext. The girl gave me that pretext only a few moments after her feet alit upon Sussex soil, demanding that she be allowed to fetch her novel from her case. The wayward thing professed herself shocked at the information that in recompense she would soon go naked over the block before the household, there to receive Robert’s cane across her lovely backside.
In truth, of course Caroline felt a good deal of shock, but the lubricity for which you told me to be on the lookout quickly appeared as well, alongside her natural dread of the severe punishment she had earned. As you had instructed me, I leavened severity with the same sort of tenderness our fatuous Miss Mildred Rackley had shown. Caroline’s blushes at the sight of Robert’s manly countenance, in the full knowledge that he would flog her bare bottom within the hour, made very apparent how urgently she needs the sort of masculine discipline and sexual training she will now receive.
In the blue bedroom, the maid Sarah undressed the girl. I suspect our Sarah told Miss Caroline rather more than Mrs. Smithers would have found proper, and that perhaps the word fuck is now a part of the naughty maiden’s vocabulary, though I venture to guess that she remains as ignorant of the word’s meaning as she is of the appearance of a fine upstanding cock like yours—or Robert’s, which I knelt to suck later in thanks for his admirable whipping of Caroline’s bottom, as the girl listened, her well-flogged bottom and her palpitating cunt on display only a foot or two away.
But I run on in advance of my tale! I went to the blue bedroom to inspect your ward’s lovely body, now divested of the modest adornment of maidenly garments. I found out the wetness between her legs, and informed her that the flaxen curls would soon be gone from her virgin cunt. (That task was indeed just now accomplished by Mrs. Smithers’ razor, and the cunt looks as sweet as any young peach might: his lordship will have a fine ride there, tomorrow evening, when he opens her upon his cock.)
I am a poor artist, I know, but for your amusement—and perhaps for that of the other gentlemen with whom you travel down and who may have some interest in the subject—I here close this brief epistle to my lord and master with a little sketch of the punished bottom, with the young cunt peeping between the thighs. I make it from life, for I have placed Caroline upon her bed, over her pillows, with her night rail above her hips, and told her she must learn to provide herself thus, as the first duty to her masters. She can hear me as I make my sketch, and her little whimpers of shame and discomfort are of course as music to my ears.
Below these sentences appeared the sketch Miss Erskine—for the earl knew the authoress could only be that lovely, debauched companion of Mr. Rackley—had promised. The angry stripes across Caroline’s little bottom-cheeks, condign punishment for disrespect, stiffened his lordship’s prick nearly as much in Miss Erskine’s simple line drawing as they might have done if colored the shade of dark red that he felt sure they must display upon the girl’s actual backside—the sweet young rump that the earl himself, he reflected, would soon have the delight of deflowering. Between the similarly well-punished thighs pouted within smooth outer cunt lips a tender inner passage into which any man would, his lordship supposed, find it heavenly to thrust vigorously until his spend be achieved and he surrendered the girl’s charms to another man.
The naked Miss Caroline Montgomery, that is, presented the fairest imaginable prospect for mastering and sharing by the five persons the earl and Mr. Rackley had chosen, a number that of course included themselves. They would train her well to cock and cunt alike. In the eyes of the Duke of Essing and his set Miss Caroline Montgomery would appear redeemed, rendered pure again after her social fault. In truth the girl would be shared, with her blushing consent and to her continual pleasure, with whomever her masters and mistress chose for the assignment her pretty mouth, her sweet cunt, and her young bottom.
I cannot do her pretty cunt justice, I fear, nor her blushing little derriere. But you may console yourself, my dearest lord, with the thought that you and her remaining masters will be here at Red Meadows soon to examine her charms for yourselves. For the moment you possess the fair Miss Caroline thrusting in with that prick she too, longs to feel inside her, waits in eager expectation
Your Hannah
“Eh?” asked Mr. Rackley, his eyebrow raised as he gazed at the earl across the compartment as the locomotive’s great roar increased and a nearly deafening blast sounded from the whistle. “Is it not a diverting letter?”
“Indeed,” the earl replied. He glanced over at the two men farther away from the window, the blond Captain Rather and the ginger-haired Doctor Brown. The captain had a pleasant smile upon his face, as well he might at the prospect before him. Ashore for a week, merely, and presented by circumstance with the chance to possess a fair maiden in the most enticingly lewd way imaginable.
The earl did not know the man personally yet, but the captain’s reputation for discretion and for dominant pleasure, as well as the air of naval discipline that hung around him, had recommended him to both his lordship and Mr. Rackley in the wake of Caroline’s unfortunate blunder. Captain Rather, after all, had in a sense caused Caroline’s near-downfall by captivating the girl’s fancy enough that she had so visibly preferred him at the fatal ball. His lordship thought it only just—and the girl’s guardian concurred—that the captain should have a hand in punishing Caroline and enjoying her during her sexual training as an equal partner in fucking her mouth, cunt, and anus as he liked.
The life of a commander whose ship, like Captain Rather’s, had come to Portsmouth for lengthy repairs, held much uncertainty. The man might be required in the Indian Ocean or even the Pacific before long, aboard one of the new vessels that stood to sea in defense of the empire. He might in that case pass on his fifth of Caroline to another—or even, the earl reflected, retain it so that he had a well-trained cunt and bottom to return to when he made his way back to England from the other side of the world.
His lordship looked back at Mr. Rackley, raising an eyebrow of his own.
“Yes, of course,” Rackley said loudly so as to be heard over the noise of the engine and the clacking of the rails, and nodding amiably. “Pass the letter along to the captain!”
“Here you are, Captain,” the earl said into the man’s ear, smiling wickedly as he held the sheets of Miss Erskine’s letter out to the handsome blue-coated fellow. His lordship turned up the second one so that Captain Rather could see the pretty drawing of their fair maiden’s cunt and well-whipped bottom. “I believe you will enjoy perusing this.”
“I’m sure I shall, my lord,” the captain replied with an answering wolfish grin.
That grin won the Earl of Hobberly over so thoroughly to an esteem of the officer that he said, “Bertie, please.” Then, at the surprised expression on the captain’s face, he went on. “We shall, you know, soon both have our pricks in this naughty young lady, shall we not?”
The captain chuckled, taking the letter from the earl’s hand. “You make a fair point, Bertie.” He glanced toward Doctor Brown, then, who had occupied himself in a book with a Latin title upon the spine, of which the earl could make neither head nor tail, having not manifested much effort in his classical studies. His lordship thought he knew the sort of thought that had occupied the captain’s mind, and brought about that glance.
“Oh, do not mind about the doctor,” the earl said. “Have you not read his treatise yet?”
The captain shook his head, his brows knitting a bit as if in token of not thinking a medical treatise of great interest to a seafaring man.
“You should, I assure you. Among many other diverting things, our good doctor recommends that a girl like Miss Caroline Montgomery undergo fucking by more than one cock as often as once a week.”
Chapter Nine
When Caroline awoke in the blue bedroom, sunlight streamed in through the windows from which Sarah had just drawn back heavy curtains. For a blissful moment she could not remember where she was, and supposed herself in her bed at Mr. Rackley’s house in town, about to have her breakfast in bed and plan the day’s amusements. When should she ride out into Hyde Park and hope to be seen by Captain Rather? When should she take Mr. Rackley’s carriage to Westminster… or should she visit the British Museum instead?
Then at nearly the same moment Caroline felt the soreness of her bottom, as she shifted upon the bed, and heard the voice of Miss Erskine who, Caroline now realized, stood upon the opposite side of the bed from the windows from which the light had entered to wake her.
“Get out of bed this instant, Caroline,” said the dark-haired woman. “Doctor Brown will be down on the morning train with Mr. Rackley and your other masters. You must bathe before they arrive. You will follow Sarah to the bathroom. No, no…” For Caroline had scrambled out of bed and moved toward the chair upon which her shift lay, ready to change her night rail for it. “You will go there naked. Remove your night rail. You shall not have clothes today, as punishment for ruining the parlor carpet with your disgraceful display over the whipping block. Nor will you need any clothes, since the doctor wishes to examine every bit of you, and your masters intend to enjoy you quite freely.”
Caroline turned from the chair, terribly conscious of her sore backside but desperate for some reason to think this terrible ordeal might somehow be borne—might correspond in some way with the world she had known. “Am I not to have breakfast?” she asked woefully, unconsciously putting her right hand behind her as if to ward off a renewed threat of discipline.
“Of course you shall have breakfast,” said Miss Erskine, frowning. “But you have forgotten to call me ma’am, and for that you will be disciplined in the bathroom.”
“What?” Caroline cried, caught between feeling reassured as to her morning repast and terribly frightened of what would occur in the bathroom. Miss Erskine looked back at her steadily, eyebrows slightly raised, and Caroline felt her cheeks turn red. “Ma’am,” she whispered.
Miss Erskine looked at Sarah. “Put miss on all fours in the tub, and soap her anus for her. I will come to punish her with the plug.”
Caroline’s lips had parted and her breath came in little pants. “I don’t understand,” she said weakly. Then, remembering, and clutching her sore rear convulsively, “Ma’am.”
“You will understand very soon, you wicked girl,” Miss Erskine said, eyes narrowing. “Now take off your night rail immediately. I will not tolerate your dawdling any longer.”
“Do you need to use the chamber pot, miss?” Sarah asked.
“I am sure she does,” said Miss Erskine. “Bring it. Miss will make her water naked in front of me, to show she understands the need for obedience—and to pee only where she is told—now that she has begun her training as a fucking piece.”
Caroline looked wildly at Sarah as the maid brought the porcelain thing over from beneath the bed and placed it on the floor behind her.
“Let me help you off with your night rail, miss,” Sarah said gently.
Caroline could not suppress the question that burned in her mind. “What is the plug?”
Sarah looked at Miss Erskine. Caroline bit her lip, entirely unsure whether she wished the woman to allow the maid to speak or not. Miss Erskine gave a cruel smile and said, “If miss obeys and makes her water like a good girl, you may tell her, Sarah.”
Caroline greeted this news with a little sob. How could the woman place these terrible choices in front of her again and again? Trembling, she let the maid help her off with the silken night dress that seemed the only remaining vestige of her respectable life in London.
Caroline had not wished to follow all the precepts of polite society: she had dreamt of being rather wild. She had laughed at Mr. Wendell so loudly perhaps because she felt the need to show that unrestrained side to the men and women gathered at the ball to marry off wayward girls such as Miss Caroline Montgomery. What would she give now to take it back, though, and to live quietly, now that she had a whipped bottom and must stoop over the pot and make her pee in front of the horrid woman who spoke of the shameful training Caroline must now receive.
As a fucking piece. What did it mean?
To her dismay, at least as the idea made its way into her mind, she remembered the way Sarah had spoken of what the men did at Red Meadows, after a girl was whipped. Fucking. The maid had seemed to find it… pleasant? Perhaps even more than pleasant, if Sarah’s red cheeks had meant anything.
Caroline’s own face burned as the golden stream splashed into the pot and the rushing sound of a girl’s morning water filled the room.
Sarah said quietly, “The plug goes in our bottoms, miss, to teach us to be good girls. It’s not as bad as the cane, but it’s embarrassing. I will soap you well, though. And…”
Caroline’s pee had almost finished. A few drops lingered on the cunny lips from which Miss Erskine had shaven her sparse blonde thatch. Her cheeks grew even hotter as the dark-haired woman took her pocket handkerchief again, and stooped to wipe Caroline between her legs, fingers lingering firmly, through the fabric, upon the place that made the debutante whimper with a pleasure she could not deny.
“And,” said Miss Erskine, “the plug trains your sweet bottom-hole to have something else there, thrusting hard.”
“What?” Caroline squeaked, biting her lip and looking imploringly into the older woman’s dark eyes. “Ma’am?”
“You will know soon enough, girl. Now follow Sarah. I will come to plug you as soon as this is nice and ready for opening.”
Caroline gave a little cry, then, for Miss Erskine had moved her finger further down, beyond the handkerchief, to press upon the tiny ring just as she said this.
* * *
In the enormous tub that presided on claw feet over a bathroom much bigger than Caroline had expected—as if Mr. Rackley had built it to hold a dozen persons, furnishing it with a strange-looking padded table alongside the tub—she was made to assume the position commanded by Miss Erskine. It felt so strange to adopt a pose other than seated, in a bathtub, and she felt her bruised, punished bottom so exposed, that her face quickly went much hotter than the steam from the lovely, warm water could bring about on its own.
But as Sarah began to wash Caroline with a soapy sponge, the embarrassment of the lewd posture seemed to mingle again with a pleasure she could not name. When the maid held the sponge against the bareness of Caroline’s virgin cunny and rubbed, the debutante shuddered and gasped at how very sensitive Miss Erskine’s razor had made her, between her thighs.
And when Sarah said quietly, “Now I must soap your anus, miss,” and began with her tiny fingers to rub in that forbidden valley, to push there, to invade the little flower, Caroline cried out and wondered how this sensation could make part of a punishment, so naughty and so marvelous did it feel to have another girl take such liberties.
Soon enough, though, Caroline heard Miss Erskine’s step upon the tile, behind the tub. Caroline began to turn round, fearful of what the woman must, she supposed, hold in her hand.
“Remain as you are, Caroline,” said Miss Erskine severely. “Keep your eyes forward. You may not behold the plug with which I shall discipline you now. It is fashioned of black India rubber, and it is very large. That is all you need know.”
“Please!” Caroline wailed. “Please… ma’am. Be… That is to say… I… I don’t understand!”
“I know you do not, Caroline,” Miss Erskine answered. “But we do not desire that you should, yet.”
Her hand came down upon Caroline’s bottom with a wet spank, and the debutante cried out.
“Ow! Please, ma’am! Please!”
Miss Erskine spanked again. Atop the welts of the cane, and with the warmth of the water, the light spanks burned like fire. Caroline shuddered and sobbed, and then suddenly she felt the tip of something hard against the tiny, shameful ring, pressing.
“Oh, no, please,” she whispered. “Ma’am, please.”
Miss Erskine spoke in a very low voice, now. “You know how, Caroline. Your bottom was made to open. You must learn to be a good girl, now, and accept what your masters and I give you.”
Caroline sobbed again. The fire of her bottom had faded, and now it seemed to travel to her cunny, and the pressure against her bottom’s rosy hole didn’t feel like a punishment. Her cunny contracted, so that she cried out.
“There, girl,” said Miss Erskine. “I think you are beginning to understand. Relax this little anus for me, now. Open as you must.” The plug pushed, and now it did hurt, it did feel like discipline, like training, but it still… it still, also…
With a piteous cry, Caroline discovered how to open her bottom, and then she gave a scream, because Miss Erskine pushed the plug into the soapy ring so firmly and so fast, until it seemed a narrower part of the thing let her anus close, and something that stayed outside her rested against her bottom-cheeks and made her blush at the thought of what she must look like.
“There,” Miss Erskine said again. “You are full, now, are you not, Caroline?” She pressed upon the plug, and Caroline shuddered and whimpered, feeling that she had submitted to much more even than having something big and hard inside her littlest place.
“Yes, ma’am,” the debutante whispered.
“Will you be my good girl?”
