Anonymous - The Vicar's girl

Many had been the tearful rebuffs that the Vicar had received during his lusty lifetime, but none worried him more than did this present one, for to offend his sister in such wise seemed even to him rather more awesome than it would have done with any proud lady of Society who might otherwise have yielded to his whims.

With Mildred's flight up the stairs, a heavy silence hung upon the Vicarage, this producing from him a huge sigh and the need to reach for his whisky bottle. His fever was passing, he assured himself, though that in his rigid pego had not abated. The devil of it-if only Mrs. Smith were here and some nubile nymph waiting to be brought in for anointing of her cunny or her bottomhole with his fond juice.

Seating himself at his desk, Percival pondered many things, though mainly the pleasures he had lent himself to in that very room. Thus half an hour passed-and then another- and still the silence prevailed, so that finally he betook himself upstairs and knocked gently upon Mildred's door.

'Go away, Percy', came the broken reply, though not larded with anger but with self-reproach, he was glad to note.

'I will fetch you tea, my dear, or a hot-toddy, or whatever you may wish'.

'No, my dear, for none can help me now, and least of all you'.

For a moment or two this doleful conversation ensued before Percy uttered a deep sigh which he devotedly hoped could be heard through the door, wherewith he betook himself to his room and his ruffled bed and gazed moodily out of the window, preventing himself from humming as he was often wont to do.

Some time passed during which Mildred sighed and turned and turned again upon her bed. Faint sounds coming to Percy's ears, he waited impatiently and nervously as to what might be about to be said. Finally he heard the quiet opening of Mildred's door, followed by her footsteps down the stairs again. Undecided as to how to put himself about, but having grown exceedingly tired of staying in his bedroom, he cast off his nightshirt and donned only a shirt, trousers and a pair of socks.

The silence had fallen again. There was an air of waiting about it-ominous, perhaps, but he could not tell. Mildred would be wearing her outdoor clothes, ready to depart, her valise packed. He increasingly felt sure of it upon his own descent. Soft-footed as he was, he entered the drawing room soundlessly and halted in surprise at what he saw.

Mildred sat attired in a purple retiring robe of silk. Slippers hung from her feet as if they were not sure whether they were to be on or off Where the lower part of the front folds of the robe almost covered her thighs, he caught a glimpse of a stocking top and the creamy surface of a lustrous thigh. There, a betraying glimpse of white lace showed that she might be wearing a petticoat, yet heart-beatingly Percy realised from the close sheathing of the rest of her outer garment that she could be wearing little else beneath.

Bowed forward and with her face cupped in her hands, her hair unpinned, Mildred remained motionless upon her brother's entry and did not seem to be aware of his passage across the room where he took a seat facing her. Only the creaking of his chair disturbed the quiet and an air of solemnity was all about.

'It is a pleasant evening, my dear', he began, clearing his throat, 'Are you… that is to say, retiring early?'

For a moment he thought that no reply was forthcoming from her. Then Mildred slowly raised her face and he saw to his dismay that tears had streaked her cheeks. Her legs shifted slightly, making her robe to draw apart and reveal-ingly, thrillingly and disturbingly to his eyes the junction of her thighs where the drooping loop of a petticoat-as he more clearly saw it now to be-just covered her bushy thatch.

Seemingly careless of what she was displaying, her eyes dimmed as if by her thoughts, Mildred asked in a dull tone, 'Percy, pray tell me, for my mind goes all about the matter. What is sin?'

His penis having regained its bold posture of uprightness, the Vicar uncrossed his legs slowly, giving no hindrance to her own view of the massive projection in his trousers, his armchair being but a few feet from her own.

'It is that, my dear, which most curiously gives the greatest pleasure. Therefore we should not always avoid it, for to do so would be to lack experience of all that is about us', he replied unctuously.

A flush invaded Mildred's cheeks at that. She appeared breathless, her bulbous breasts rising and falling under their thin covering which betrayed the peaking of her nipples to his ever more blatantly seeking eyes. Their glances meeting, they appeared for a moment as if bemused and neither knowing what to say.

'It is so quiet here-so nicely quiet', Mildred murmured as if aimlessly.

'There is no one to disturb, my dear-no ears to hear, no eyes to see', ventured her brother in lulling tones.

'No one to see, no'.

Mildred's head hung back. A ripple of nervousness seemed to pass through her thighs, making them assume a posture of greater laxness. His penis thrumming, Percy watched the loop of petticoat slip a little to one side. The edge of it glided and hung between her lovelips, one rolled, pouting side of it he clearly saw. Temples pulsing, he rose, feeling a curious trembling that had never invaded him with his young novices, nor even with Vanessa.

'Desire is not sin, Mildred', he offered thickly while her gaze appeared to fix itself on his knob which so clearly outlined itself through the cloth of his black trousers.

'Oh, Percy! Oh Percy, you must cane me first-cane me!' Mildred uttered with a sob, covering her face again.

So astonishing was her cry that her brother halted in midstep. Then, with unaccustomed tenderness he placed his hand upon the top of her bowed head.

'I shall cane you first, Mildred. Yes, of course. Of course I shall. Remove your robe, my dearest, while I fetch the instrument'.

'Percy!'

Her cry, nigh unto one of despair, followed the Vicar as he swiftly ascended to his study where, strangely sick with excitement, he fumbled out his whippiest cane, slender as a woman's little finger and with a slight bend to it. He had last used it, he recalled, on Arabella Smythson-Hyde who, at twenty-two, had submitted upon the tenth stroke to the first burrowing of a prick between her marbled bottom cheeks.

Mildred was standing on his re-entry, hands to her mouth, her robe floating apart to reveal the slumbrous, voluptuous curves he had so long wished to see. A woman of just above medium height, Mildred possessed still a fine pair of legs that were neither too thin nor fat. And he could see her garters now, the purple of the ruffled silk around the pale beige of her stocking tops-could see the valley in-between her luscious tits which the top of her petticoat but half concealed, could see her nipples sprouting through the white batiste.

'Percy, I cannot!' came her whimper while her fingers clenched and unclenched and her gaze was fixed upon the rather threadbare carpet in the room.

'I am here but to exorcise your sins, my love-to rid your mind of vagrant wanderings. You know-I know-that I must scorch your bottom first. Remove your robe and place yourself in readiness over the sofa back. I will attend to you. If there is to be sin between us, let it not be cloaked in that hypocrisy which smears the minds of others. We are not as they. Present your arse to me, my love-your fine and bulbous arse my hands have often longed to touch. Come to the cane now, Mildred-come!

'Haaar!' Mildred gasped as with those words her brother grasped her wrist and in several floundering steps on her part took her to the waiting sofa back and pressed her over it. Then, throwing up her robe and petticoat, he tucked them briskly underneath her arms to let her tits hang free, and then stepped back.