Their Master's Pleasure (19 page)

‘Oh, sir,' she said, in a tremulous voice, ‘surely you can't mean to put
that
in my bottom? It's
much
too big - the biggest I've ever seen!'

From beyond the screen I heard Humphrey's mock snort of indignation. ‘Oh really, this is too much! Is Lady X truly saying he has a cock like a bull?'

‘An exaggeration, sir, I assure you,' Nigel said soothingly. ‘I have it on good authority from one of the maids that Mr Montague's cock is no bigger than her little finger... and she has
very
small hands.'

A debate on the likely size of my member followed in which even Elizabeth took part, though she had said not a word during Nigel's performance. The consensus seemed to be that it was pitifully small, which is not the sort of thing any chap wishes to hear, especially whilst attempting intercourse. Belinda, having started it, tried instead to prove them wrong with enthusiastic use of her hands, but my cock refused to cooperate. It wasn't so much what they were saying as the fact they were speaking at all. It was proving far from easy to concentrate on the appointed task with friends prattling away gaily just feet away. The threat of failure loomed ever larger and the thought of the comments that would bring merely added to my difficulties. Belinda, bless her, refused to admit defeat, and though I wasn't sure casual fellatio was strictly within the rules, I didn't feel tempted to seek clarification.

I challenge any cock to remain limp with a beautiful, naked woman sucking away as though her very life depended on it, and mine was no exception, leaping up bravely as though eager to make up for lost time. Belinda certainly wasted none, for she immediately turned around and lowered herself onto me. I guided my cock to its target as she sat down slowly, impaling herself. This wasn't Belinda's preferred form of sex, as I knew from long experience, so I eased into her as gently as I could. She felt tight, despite the lubrication she had so selflessly provided, and she groaned as I breached her. This drew the predictable response from our audience, but I refused to be distracted, concentrating instead on Belinda's beautiful little bottom bobbing up and down in my lap.

Remembering Nigel and Queenie's ‘paired peaking', as Humphrey put it, I reached around with my right hand and felt for her slit. I slid my middle finger inside her and brought my thumb into play also, flicking her clitoris lightly but rapidly, upon which her gasps took on an altogether different tone. Soon I felt the first stirrings of my climax and worked her more rapidly still, murmuring endearments. Belinda began to wail softly, which drew further derisive comments, but we were past caring by now and beyond their sway.

Then Belinda squealed, a spasm rippling down her slender back, which triggered my own climax. I drove up hard into her, once, twice and then again, rising to my feet on the final thrust. I wrapped my left arm about her waist and hugged her tight, holding her against me till her shudders and mine subsided. I then sank back on the couch with Belinda on top of me, my cock and finger still inside her. We lay like that for some moments longer, then Belinda started to rise. Having none of it, I held her fast. She turned her face to mine, surprised, and I kissed her gently on the mouth. When finally we broke the embrace she gave me one of her special smiles.

There was a deathly silence from the far side of the screen, until a lone voice spoke up. ‘Well,' Elizabeth said, ‘it would seem the master has succeeded in his appointed task.'

I thought she sounded almost disappointed.

‘No point drawing the remaining slips, is there?' Nigel said, once Belinda and I had put ourselves in order and rejoined the others, again to applause. ‘We know what's left by simple elimination.'

‘That's right,' Belinda said. ‘Humphrey, in Ursula's...'

She turned slowly and looked at Elizabeth. So did I and everyone else. My ward was smiling ruefully. ‘Indeed,' she murmured. ‘In my mouth.'

Though fellatio was one of her professed ‘hates', I knew she would not refuse. The game was her own invention, after all, so she must have known better than anyone what might be required of her. She hesitated, however, clearly finding it difficult, and I took some satisfaction from knowing her scheming had brought her to this. The reality, it seemed, was proving rather less attractive a proposition than the fantasy. Finally she rose and allowed Humphrey to escort her behind the screen. Again we heard the rustle of clothing, followed moments later by a long groan of sheer pleasure from her partner.

‘Oh, my dear girl,' he murmured, his voice heavy with need. ‘Oh, you angel.'

For some few minutes Humphrey's groans and affectionate utterances were the only sounds in the room. There was not a word, not a whisper even, from our side of the screen. It was as though we were loath to intrude - though why Humphrey and my ward should receive such preferential treatment remained a mystery. I looked at the others, wondering at the source of this sudden reticence that afflicted us. Belinda was staring at the carpet, a half-smile on her lips, Nigel was scrutinising his fingernails as though he had only just discovered he possessed such things, while Queenie's face had assumed an uncanny stillness, as if her mind were utterly elsewhere.

‘Faster now. Faster, child... that's it.'

Could it be Elizabeth's involvement that silenced us, perhaps? We had all understood and accepted that she was to remain chaste, yet here she was engaged in an act of special intimacy with one of our party. It was almost as if we were witnessing the deflowering of a virgin and were awed by the solemnity of the occasion.

‘God, yes! Oh God... oh God!'

It went on and on, and I knew Humphrey must be holding himself back to make the pleasure last. Serve him right, I thought, if he ran out of time. I looked across at Ogden, who was watching the long case clock in the corner. My hopes proved in vain, however, for Humphrey - blast the fellow - timed things to perfection. Just seconds before the gong sounded he gave a great shuddering gasp, followed by two or three others of diminishing force.

‘No,' he said, his voice hollow with spent passion, ‘swallow it, there's a good girl. That's it, yes... you clever girl. You angel.'

And so we waited while Elizabeth performed her own abbreviated version of My Cup Runneth Over; and waited still longer while they made themselves presentable. When finally they appeared it was not to ribald applause, but rather to self-conscious smiles and murmured congratulations.

And so The Game of Threes came to an end. Though we had no declared winner - for the game had not been designed with such in mind - we had no losers either. Ogden served drinks as we rose to stretch our legs, chatting and joking amongst ourselves as was customary following the entertainment. I joked and chatted along with all the rest, waiting for the right moment. At last I found myself alone with Elizabeth. I looked her up and down, staring openly at breast and bush, nipple and navel.

‘Since fate is clearly determined to deny me that which I desire,' I said, ‘it seems the sight of you is all I shall enjoy tonight. And what a magnificent sight you are, my dear. Almost - just
almost
, mind - looking at you is compensation enough for not having you.'

Elizabeth looked rather startled, but was given no opportunity to reply.

‘No whispering, there,' Belinda said, walking up to us. ‘We'll be thinking the pair of you are plotting some mischief. Do you mind if I have a quick word with this gentleman, my dear?'

‘Not at all, Lady X,' Elizabeth said. ‘I must speak with Mr Porton-Jones in any case. Please excuse me, sir.' She curtseyed and walked away, affording me a tantalising glimpse of her perfect bottom through the gossamer folds.

‘A sweet girl,' Belinda murmured, clearly amused by my scrutiny of my ward's derriere.

‘Yet one who is happy to flaunt her body, it seems. A scarlet woman in the making, if ever I saw one.'

‘Hardly that, Jamie,' she said. ‘I, on the other hand, freely confess to it - and by way of proof I volunteer the information that I'm free tonight, should you wish to avail yourself twice in two nights. If you've made other arrangements I fully understand and trust you'll pardon such wanton behaviour on my part. I know I should wait to be asked, but there's a risk no one would ask me and that would be too awful to contemplate. It makes me sound rather desperate, doesn't it?'

‘Not in the least,' I said gallantly. ‘I don't have a date for tonight, in fact, but even if I did I would cancel it instantly to be with you. Kindly come to my room dressed as you are and brace yourself for a strenuous night. You look simply ravishing, Belinda, and I fully intend to ravish you - long, hard and in innumerable positions.'

To make such promises is to take a risk, of course, for sometimes physical flesh fails us and we cannot live up to them. This was not such an occasion, fortunately, my stamina proving sufficient to the task. We were still going strong as the clock struck eleven, Belinda and I, though by midnight it is true we had slowed considerably. At one o'clock we finally admitted defeat and fell asleep in each other's arms.

I thought I would sleep late, worn out by my exertions, but I was wrong. A crowing cockerel woke me at dawn, when I was surprised and delighted to find myself once more in the mood. Not wishing to waste the opportunity, I woke Belinda and put her through her paces vigorously until breakfast time - a most satisfying conclusion to three marvellous days of Spankers Seven Exiles.

 

 

 

We said our farewells in the courtyard, shaking hands or embracing as gender dictated, then we four travellers climbed into the coach that was to ferry ourselves and our baggage to the railway station.

The train journey home to Oxfordshire was uneventful, Humphrey and I passing the time in pleasant chit-chat. My friend glanced often at Elizabeth and smiled whenever their eyes met, but though my ward returned the smile dutifully, she seemed somewhat subdued, staring out of the carriage window for the most part. Queenie was equally restrained, but answered pleasantly enough when I addressed her and seemed to bear me no ill will for the painful and humiliating century I had given her. If only all women were as compliant, I thought, life would be far more simple. There were more farewells on the platform at Beckton Measby station, after which my ward and I continued our journey alone.

‘I suppose it's pointless to ask if you enjoyed your visit, my dear?' I said.

‘Pointless indeed, uncle.'

‘Ah! By “uncle” I take it I'm addressing my ward Elizabeth now and not some other young woman?'

‘You are. Ursula stayed behind at Cropton Manor and must remain there for all time.'

‘I'm sorry to hear that,' I said. I meant it, too. Ursula somehow managed the clever trick of combining innocence and wantonness in a way men find irresistible.

‘Not all of it was unpleasant, in fact,' Elizabeth said. ‘I met some truly nice people.'

‘Humphrey.'

‘Mr Porton-Jones, certainly; but also Lady Newburn. I only wish I were as wise as she - and as strong and independent.'

As for me, I wished Elizabeth was as willing as Belinda to slip into my bed, though I kept the thought to myself.

But now it was time to look to affairs at home. Immediately upon our arrival I sent for Mrs Hammond to enquire what disasters had befallen the household in my absence. It transpired that nothing untoward had occurred, save that Willy, the hall-boy, had accidentally set fire to the carpet in the dining room when cleaning out the supposedly dead ashes in the fireplace. He had apparently chosen to stamp on the smouldering carpet rather than let the house burn down - a remarkable decision on his part, suggesting a possible spark of intelligence I'd never suspected in the lad - and in this way a likely catastrophe was averted.

‘The damage is confined to one small patch, sir,' Mrs Hammond said. ‘I believe it should be possible to have it repaired. Naturally, I wished to consult with you before taking any such action.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Hammond,' I said. ‘I imagine you haven't delayed taking action with the miscreant himself, however. Willy has been suitably punished, I take it?'

‘
Is
being punished, sir,' she said. ‘I deemed the offence too serious for a single punishment. I'm giving him a dozen hard strokes morning, noon and night for a week. Today is the third day, so he has some way to go.'

Three dozen a day for seven days! It was reassuring to know the governess hadn't grown overly soft and sentimental while Elizabeth and I had been amusing ourselves down in Kent.

We soon settled into our routine and the next few days passed most agreeably, though not for Willy, whose howls could be heard echoing through the house thrice daily. I spent some time updating my journal, recounting what had transpired during our stay at Cropton Manor. While flicking idly through the pages one morning I chanced upon a sketch I had made some months previously. It portrayed a young woman - Cathy, perhaps, for she was fair-haired - dressed in an unusual costume. The sketch was entitled ‘Proposed Spanking Outfit' and I had included a view from the back as well as the front. Around the periphery of the drawing were various notes, such as ‘buttocks exposed' and ‘high collar ~ beware risk of choking!'