Anonymous - First training

I shook my head, so persuasive were her words and so urging her tone. Most of all I wished to know Papa’s place in all this and how we might keep our secret from him, for all three of us had now been in her hands.

She saw the wonderment in my eyes and said carefully, “There are mysteries, are there not? Does it not make life more exciting? Think on it.”

“I don’t need to,” I said impulsively, whereat her eyes glowed.

“I truly believe you do not, Clara. I judged you well from the start. You display neither bewilderment nor incomprehension. Truly were you born to the part I mean to have for you-that of a Mistress of many households and of many eager souls. Go to bed now. Judge levelly the events of the day. Tomorrow I must begin to bring Sarah to fruition.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, but there were to be no more confidences that night and I was firmly ushered out. Going to my room I thought again and again of Robert’s waggling cock and blushed-yet it was so nice to see. Perhaps in my imagination I even put my fingers around it as she had done.

Breakfast was ever a quiet affair, broken only by the movements of the servants about us, the tinkling of cups and spoons and the careful sounds of knives and forks such as are made by gentlefolk in eating.

Papa looked as dapper as ever, his goatee beard being well trimmed, though his face a trifle pale. My stepmother appeared to defer to him, being gentle in her talk, though now and again it seemed but a cloak for the proddings she gave him such as to his business and the estate. Occasionally he would appear to begin to offer a light opposition to her views, then her magnetic eyes would meet his and he would wipe his mouth hastily with a napkin, take a further sip of coffee and say for all the world as if he had made the suggestions himself, “Of course, my pet-this is how things should be:”

Indeed when he made that remark I saw Sarah’s lip curl a little and positively hated her for it. Our stepmother, I believe, did not miss the facial gesture for she gazed at her sharply, went on eating for a moment, and then said, “We shall go to the summerhouse immediately after breakfast, Sarah.”

“Oh, I do not wish to,” replied my sister pertly.

“I said we shall go,” came the quiet and cutting reply. Papa gazed from one to the other.

“Sarah might prefer to go riding,” he murmured.

“She will have plenty of riding to do, William-I shall see to that as I shall to all else,” came the reply whereat a silence fell. Sarah flushed and pushed a piece of bacon away with her fork. Robert appeared to be in tremulous excitement. As for myself, I seemed to draw strength from merely gazing at my stepmother who radiated as ever a positive aura and glow of confidence such as I believe is given to few women. I thought of strange things-the roundness of her bottom on the seat, Robert’s prick upstanding the night before and how he might have disposed of her drawers without the maid finding them when she did his room. I glanced at Sarah’s breasts and saw how beautifully rounded they were. Such thoughts had never entered my head before and yet I felt no strangeness at them nor even immodesty. All was surely as it was and must be. So perhaps was the basis of my own philosophy then formed. Above all I bathed in the glow of our stepmother who I knew would be victorious, though if asked in what I would have been unable to answer.

“Robert, you have my instructions,” she next said and, though there was otherwise silence, it seemed to deepen as her voice ceased.

He nodded and appeared too awed to speak. No sooner were we done and Papa risen-for in such small matters all etiquette was observed-than my brother went out, passing through the conservatory into the garden where I wondered much what he was to do. Our stepmother rose next.

“Come upstairs, Sarah. I wish to speak to you,” she uttered in a tone that brooked no refusal.

My sister stirred pettishly in her seat, avoiding my glance, then got up and followed. As my stepmother reached the door with Sarah in train, she turned and said gently to me, “You will be in attendance, Clara. Wait in the conservatory.”

“Yes,” I replied simply. The door closed and I wished to move but could not. Some urgent wish impelled me to know what my sister’s fate might be and so after a moment I daringly followed, creeping up the wide staircase until I was within sight and sound of our stepmother’s room.

“Take them off this moment, Sarah!” I heard her say and then a smacking sound and a small cry from my sister.

“Oh, why must I?” she wailed, then another smack.

“Because I tell you. Leave them on the bed now. Are you not cooler thus without your drawers? You have no need to wear them in the house, nor in summer out of doors. I am mindful as to all your ways, Sarah, though you believe it not. Tidy your hair again-you may use my brush-I wish you to be looking your best. A little rouge upon your cheeks now.”

“I don’t like it, though.”

“It is not a question of what you think you like, Sarah. Rub it well in and smooth it out towards the edges-so. Let me look at you. Your eyes do not glisten as they should. I shall have to smarten you up. Come!”

Oh good heavens, with what fearful trepidation I scurried down lest I be caught! All too breathlessly I reached the conservatory and stood demurely, giving Sarah a sweet smile that she appeared to resent for her mouth was set and quite a scowl upon her face. As she went out upon the lawn my stepmother paused and murmured to me quickly, “In three or four minutes, Clara, come-come to the summerhouse.” A swish of her skirts and she was gone, following Sarah at a pace and indeed I saw my sister glance half anxiously once over her shoulder and then quicken her steps.

There was to be discipline of sorts, I knew that-and no doubt for the way she had curled her lip at table. I did not wish her hurt, though, and so waited with one finger in my mouth as I was still then wont to. I was far from calm and felt my pulses ticking. A small seizure of panic came over me and I wanted to run after them but stayed myself. I trusted my stepmother devoutly and knew it. I believed all she had said and was in her hands.

The summerhouse was placed too far from the house for sounds to be heard therefrom, which in the circumstances was as well. As I finally approached and found myself trembling a little, Sarah’s cries came distinctly to me. I began to run, but remembered my stepmother’s instruction that a lady never hurries. So I paced myself anew.

“How dare you!” reached my ears from Sarah as I reached the door. Her voice sounded really wild and plaintive. My palm was moist as it touched the doorhandle, but it would not budge. “No-woh! Oh, the shame of this!” I heard and then at my somewhat feeble though excited rattling the door was opened and there blocking my view within was, of all people, Bertha, the wife of our coachman, who was some forty years of age and buxom of form.

“Ha-aaaar!” screeched Sarah then and all was revealed to my startled gaze while Bertha moved and thrust the door to, putting a bar across it.

There across a small deal table, so narrow that it supported but her shoulders and her tummy, hung Sarah, bereft of all save her stockings, shoes and her chemise which, being well and tightly tucked up about her hips, gave full display to the naked orb of her bottom. To her rear stood our stepmother, flourishing the selfsame black whip of many thongs which I had seen the night before. Yet this seemed itself as nothing to what else astounded my gaze. Bound to the wall immediately in front of Sarah and but two feet from her was Robert, his trousers down and his shirt wreathed fast about his waist so that his risen penis and balls were wantonly in full view. His hands being tied behind his back and fastened, as I soon saw, to a ring set into the wall, he could move not, no more than could Sarah whose legs had been stretched out in a wide vee so that her ankles might be secured to each of the legs of the table.