Anonymous - First training

“Darling, I am going to remove your gag now,” our stepmother told her, brushing strands of hair away from Sarah’s moist forehead. “Listen carefully my sweet, for if you scream or utter any untoward sounds, I shall have you put again upon him, though this time in a firmer manner. Mark my words well, for I mean it. Was he not naughty to let himself be bound and gagged for it? Well?”

Opening her eyes, Sarah stared straight up at her, and I saw the wicked skill of our stepmother’s words.

“Nod if you agree, Sarah,” was said gently opposite me. “He was naughty, was he not-hard his cock at the thought of you.”

Sarah nodded. Reaching carefully under her head, our stepmother then slowly loosed the gag, though pausing halfway to put her finger to her lips exactly as though all three of us were at simple play. The cloth being drawn aside, Sarah uttered a shuddering sigh. Her head went limp and she rolled her face away from Stepmama who however took her chin and brought their noses to touch.

“D… d… don’t want the feather!” Sarah moaned.

“Of course you don’t. You are not a bad girl, are you? Are you not my treasure? Give me your lips, your tongue now. Be good, be good.”

“Glug!” sounded from Sarah but as her lips were submerged so her shoulders relaxed and with infinite tenderness I began to stroke her wet pussy with my fingertips and felt her ardent quivering. Little sobbing cries came from her which echoed into the mouth whose scented lips were splurged upon her own. Receiving a blind gesture from my stepmother who waggled her hand at me, I quickened my motions and with devious changes of hand managed to loose Sarah’s ankle bonds, as I thought was requisite. At that she rolled upon her hip and clung to our stepmother so that my hand was removed from her quim but in a second was replaced by the rubbing, stockinged knee of her tormenter who quickly hoisted her skirt for the purpose.

A soft, rounded knee is delicious against the quim, as well I know, and Sarah came again quickly, clawing at our stepmother’s shoulders while their mouths remained enmeshed. Then, as if she knew not where she was, she flung herself of a sudden on her back and stared blindly at the ceiling, her legs straightening and the dried sheen of Papa’s sperm showing plainly on her belly.

“Naughty… he was naughty,” she murmured, speaking as though to herself.

“Are they all not so, Sarah? Have I not tried to teach you? Will you not take example from Clarissa? She is Mistress now of her guardian’s ways. Cease to deny yourself the pleasures that await you.”

“I d… d… do not know what to do,” Sarah whimpered. “Oh, the things you do to me and what you make me feel.”

“Better now than later when you are ensnared in some useless marriage and regretting it,” said our stepmother in a practical tone. Sarah was half won over and she knew it even as I myself did. Once again Stepmama drew my sister into her arms and stroked her hair. “Will you not take the cock now even as Clara must?” she asked softly, smiling at me over Sarah’s head.

Sarah shook her head, her face submerged between two thrusting breasts.

“Must I cane you then? Must I, Sarah?”

“Neee-oh!” A little whimpered cry and Sarah clung to her.

“Do you want it in your bottom or in your cunny, darling? You see-I give you a choice!”

Again a shake of the head from Sarah and a deeper huddling. Then, smiling ever blandly at me over Sarah’s curled-up form, my stepmother murmured to me, “Go and see if his prick is up again and then call Bertha.”

To venture into Papa’s bedroom where he sat helpless and stripped to his shirt seemed to me the most daring of all the things I had yet done, yet I knew it must be. Perhaps it had been too late for me to turn back from the first moment when my stepmother had kissed and caressed me-or perhaps I never wanted to.

My palms moistened again as I opened the door. Papa turned his head and saw me immediately. Our eyes locked like thorns that become snagged together. I knew the sense of both seeing and not-seeing. His shirt being tucked up and caught behind his back, I could see all. His legs were slimmer than I had imagined and were curiously smooth, though muscular and strong, his calves having a line turn to them while his thighs, being somewhat compressed by his seated posture, looked lovingly strong. His penis lolled thickly over his balls, rather, as it seemed to me, like a big sleeping worm. Beneath it, his appendages, being distended by the pressure of the chair, gleamed not a little and had dark curls sprouting all about.

Perhaps I expected him to make some violent gesture of his head and to struggle equally against his bonds. He did not, but sat passive as though a mantle of fate had fallen upon him and from which he could not escape. So long did we gaze at each other that it seemed an eternity. I ventured perhaps a tiny smile, though I do not remember well and may have added this touch in retrospect. Then I stepped back and withdrew. His thing was not “up,” as my stepmother had asked and I wondered what to do. The second half of my instructions was clear, however, and I tripped halfway down the stairs where, leaning over the bannisters and gazing down into the well-which I loved to do-I softly called for Bertha.

“Yes, I know, Miss Clara,” she answered back, though invisible.

I hesitated then for a moment and went back along to Sarah’s room. She had sat up and had our stepmother’s arm around her naked back. Her head was hung and her hair all awry, though in later times it was always carefully pinned and arranged for what our stepmother lightly called “entertainments.”

If I digress here briefly it is to say that neatness in appearance and tidiness of attire is always requisite for the female, particularly one who has concluded her training. She wears the best perfumes, fluffs up the pad of curls about her quim, keeps her stockings ever taut and has her boots or shoes polished to perfection. Bangles of gold or silver or various colours, drawn well up the arms, provide an excellent embellishment, as do fancy garters with broad rufflings and tiny rosettes or ribbons.

Some Mistresses affect a severe manner of attire which I do not like myself but which suits some. I recall well the sister of a local curate who was in her early thirties and wore her hair ever in a tight bun which suited her, for she could coil it immaculately, which left her swanlike neck in full view and hid nothing of the pale oval of her face, but as to her I shall return later for I was to mark her conversion one of my signal victories.

Sarah was subdued, quiescent, though I wished her not to be. I would have had her smile and embrace me and our lips to meet, for I always loved her tenderly, as now. An approach sounded.

“Turn over, darling, and kneel,” our stepmother murmured to her.

Sarah raised her face a little, stirred, seemed indolent and then finally allowed herself to be manoeuvred over so that her bottom rose as sweet and round as an apple, her breasts pendant. Moving one hand beneath her while she was thus poised on all fours, our stepmother brushed her dangling tits gently with her palm. Her nipples, being already erect, quivered to the touch as did her glossy back and bottom which was caressed in turn. Shifting her right hand down under Sarah’s bottom, our stepmother thus cupped and held her fore and aft as one might steady a nervous filly. Upon that, the door swung full open and Bertha led in Robert, attired in his chemise and stockings and with a blue ribbon clasping his hair at the back. His drawers having been removed, his prick stuck up like a flagpole.

Sarah then twisted her head-having her bare bottom arranged to his view-gave a squeal and would have started up had it not been for the soothing motions of our stepmother’s hands.