Anonymous - Gynecocracy

And Beatrice's ample thighs filled me with passion. I might do much worse than be her husband.

One result of the engagement was a termination of my residence at Downlands Hall. It was not considered proper for me to reside before marriage in the same house with my bride select. Until engagement was known it did not matter. When once it was I suppose it was imagined I should seize the earliest opportunity of lying with her, and of plucking my rose too soon.

When our engagement was formally acknowledged, what importance it gave Beatrice! What airs of superiority she assumed!

"I took rooms in town and then went on to my father's where Beatrice and Maud were invited.

Agnes and Mademoiselle came for the festivities to my coming of age, and then the engagement was announced to the world. The marriage was celebrated at St. George's, Hanover Square.

How queer I felt in trousers again and with what envy Beatrice eyed them.

My happiness with Mademoiselle made me impervious to all this, however.

I, of course, recollect my nervousness at the breakfast. I felt like a slave and Beatrice evidently felt like my owner.

She, indeed, slapped my face in the carriage; and, sliding her hand down in front of me, told me that that thing was hers now forever, to use as she chose.

I did not object to being possessed by the magnificent girl into which she had now grown.

But what had I promised? Or, rather, what had I not promised and sworn in the most solemn mode! We had no sooner got well away from Victoria on the road to Dover than she made me kneel down in the carriage and kiss and do homage to Viscountess Ladywood.

What a deluge she gave me! She had her maid in another carriage, and she informed me that in her overall were several birches.

"And you have no corset on, Julian. This freedom I shall not permit. I believe in commencing at once. I shall birch you at night at the 'Lord Warden,' after supper; and tomorrow, underneath your coat and trousers, you shall wear a chemise, corset, drawers, and stockings of mine."

"Oh, Beatrice!" I exclaimed, clasping and kissing.

"Don't you miss your petticoats?" she enquired.

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, then, get under mine."

She held me there as we rushed through Kent, whilst she pretended to amuse herself with a novel.

Her maid was a French girl, named Sophie-an intolerable termagant.

Of course my sense of possession of a woman gave me a certain importance. Beatrice was mine, to the exclusion of everyone else; and as I kissed her well-developed vulva, and tickled her large clitoris, I was proud of my possession. But this was quickly knocked out of me.

I did not exactly care about being treated as an absolute baby, and as such Beatrice and Sophie between them treated me.

Will it be believed, that, on our very wedding night, Beatrice locked me up in my dressing room, while she was being put to bed?

When once there, Sophie led me into my wife's room like a lamb to the slaughter.

As Beatrice lay in all her finery, Sophie undressed me before her, and put me to bed naked, not without a very careful examination and display of me. Then she undressed and got into the same bed herself.

I loudly protested, whereupon Beatrice held me, while Sophie smacked me.

"If you think Mademoiselle's lessons are thrown away upon me you are greatly mistaken," said Beatrice.

"I wish to have you all to myself. You are mine," I asserted.

"You are greatly in error," rejoined Beatrice, "you are mine. Lie down. Now I can have this fellow," she asserted, grasping him, "and Sophie 394

will see that I do have him. Put him in! I don't want any nonsense. Sophie will see that you do it properly."

"Certainly, Milady," answered Sophie. "Now, Milord!"

Without any compunction this French damsel got her hand under me and inserted me into Beatrice, to whom, impelled by Sophie's hand, I gave too soon an evidence of passion if not of affection.

"It is all your own fault," I said, beyond myself.

"Fetch a birch, Sophie," directed my wife, holding me tightly with her arms and legs.

Sophie, with very great alacrity, skipped off for a birch.

As soon as Beatrice saw her maid re-enter the room, she stretched out her alabaster thighs and placed me between them, grasping me vigorously with her hands, in a manner which obliged me to catch my breath and to cry out. Being hauled about in this violent and masterful mode convulsed my being to its foundations, and caused me to tremble with delight.

Without explanation, request, or hesitation, she placed me against her, and clasping me with her powerful limbs, she said peremptorily: "Now, Julian, get in-right in."

She wriggled and pressed against me-pushed and pushed-so did I. She was very tight, and the accomplishment of her desire occupied some time, and necessitated considerable effort. She flushed violently and her pulse very much quickened. She began to look love sick, her eyes drooped and her lips grew moist, and opening slightly, shew her perfect teeth.

"Come-come, Julian!"

The effect of all this upon me may be imagined. It very nearly brought about the crisis before its time as on the first occasion. I pushed and pushed. Beatrice seconded my efforts.

"There," said my wife, at length, "there, now I have him right up to the hilt. Oh, how delightful! Now, do not slip! Now, Julian, now let me know how you love me-now," biting my lips and casting down her eyes, "now… fuck me!"

The word made me jump. Beatrice was so tight and grasped me so closely, so like a close, tight kid glove, that I felt as if I were in a vice-and although she kept up sufficient mechanical excitement to prevent my instrument decreasing, yet the physical destroyed the intellectual emotion, and I knew well as I drew a deep sigh, that there was no hope of an orgasm being accomplished like this, and very great danger before long of my shrinking out of her.

"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Beatrice, as Sophie stood beside us, an idle spectator, with a birch in her hand, and with a very amused and yearning expression upon her features, and as she and I gave ourselves up to the throes of the love struggle: "Oh, I declare, I can feel him at the mouth of my womb! Oh, Julian! Oh, Julian!" and she bit and pressed my lips, and breathed stentoriously. "Oh, Julian! Now!"

I contemplated her face. I drank in the love which flamed from her eyes. I gazed at her neck.

My wife looked at me with astonishment and contempt.

"Indeed, you deserved the petticoats," she exclaimed.

"Sophie, uncover him, whip him, birch his bottom severely, until he satisfies my desire, dastard bridegroom that he is! You shall catch it for this, Julian!"

Sophie pulled the bedclothes right down, discovering me naked between my wife's legs.

"Yes, Milady, I will birch him," said the pretty girl. "To be a log between his bride's legs, Mon Dieu! I will make him feel."

Beatrice contracted her legs and arms, holding me more tightly. Sophie raised her rod, made it whistle through the air, and it fell with a terribly stinging blow upon my defenceless buttocks. I felt it lessened my chance of success. But Beatrice announced her determination of having the punishment continued until I complied with her requirements. The birch had been well pickled and it hurt confoundedly; I could not, however, get away from those strong legs. Swish, swish, swish.

Sophie calmly scanned me all the time in my nakedness. She slipped her hand behind and played with my testicles. Swish, swish, swish, she then recommenced; I bounded up and down; so did Beatrice. "Oh!" I exclaimed at length, and Beatrice's eyes flashed.

"Harder, Sophie!"

Sophie, with a calm smile, continued her study of my anatomy, and the regular administration, slow and methodical, of her stripes, which, delivered as they were by a well-balanced and elastic birch, were very hard to bear.