Anonymous: Beatrice

I swept down before she could speak, thus forcing her to follow me. In the hall my uncle's glance was timourous. I afforded him a kiss on the cheek. In turning away from him my gloved hand made passing contact with his penis which stood proud in his breeches. The caress would appease him for the moment.

The sun stood high above us as the door opened, flooding the vista with golden light. "The sun is God," the great painter Turner had said on his deathbed twenty years before. It had shone upon his bed, they had said, in the very moment of his uttering the words and dying. In that moment I believed him. Caroline moved in her beauty beside me. Her skirts swept the ground. I went as I had come, yet in my going I was one reborn. Passing the rhododendron bushes I caressed their leaves and blooms once more.

The silence of plants pleases me. They see without seeing, watch without watching. Subservient to the touch, they yet never surrender. Crush them and they will reappear next year or elsewhere. Their chemistry compounds miracles. They are there in their thereness. At night they sleep yet they know not Time. They breathe softly yet are not heard.

"I would be as a plant," I said to Caroline. In the carriage I held her hand. The figures of my aunt and uncle standing on the steps diminished.

"Yes, I would like to be a flower," she replied. She had not understood. It did not matter. Her voice was simple and childish. I saw her as she would be-rooted to the stamen, the pale fusing of the cock with her bottom. She would rock, moan and whimper in her beginnings. Later I would teach her silence. She would know the silence of the plants -the impelling flood of the sap in her gripping. Rising up the embedded stem, it would flood her in its submission. With its last throbbings it would withdraw. She would know the victory-the power.

The house waited for us, bereft of servants. My aunt had dismissed them. It was a wiseness. Only the older gardener, Perkins, was left. He was too withered for my purposes. Appearing at the approach of our carriages, he doffed his hat and acted as footman in opening the door. I gave him the most gracious of my smiles.

The rooms at least had been aired. From the kitchen came smells of butter, cheese and herbs. Mingled withall was the scent of bread which had been left that morning. Milk waited in stone jars, covered with fine net. In the stonewalled larder, lettuces shone their fine diamonds of cool water. All was well. My letter to Father floated upon the oceans. Maria and Jenny removed their cloaks and moved about us. Curiously nervous as they appeared of the windows and the gardener's eyes, I had them don dresses. The proprieties had to be observed. With the drawing of the curtains at night, our world would be enclosed.

"Shall there be visitors?" Caroline asked. Maria made tea. We took it in the drawing room.

"Many. There will be masquerades, amusements, entertainments, Caroline-garden parties. You will enjoy those."

I would chain the girls to trees at night, I thought. Chinese lanterns would float and sway among the leaves. I would move among them with a feather, their dresses raised. One by one they would be carried in for pleasuring. The stables would be candlelit.

Did Caroline read my thoughts? Laying down her cup she rose and looked beyond the French windows to the lawn where the silver larches swayed in their slender beings.

"You will not love me as the others-I know it," she said sullenly. "Will all the girls be young?"

"No." I rose in turn and moved to her. My hand rested upon her shoulder. Her head lay back. Her fine hair tickled my nose. "Some will be matrons-firm of body. The summerhouse is large within, is it not?" Caroline nodded. I could not see her eyes. "Yes-why?" "We shall furnish it to our tastes. What is within?"

"A divan-no more." Her bottom in its roundness moved its globe against my belly. "Father said stopped her.

"I shall ordain. There shall be ottomans, rugs, silken cushions, shaded lamps, a small scattering of whips and birches to tease your bottom. We shall have our privacies there-our secrets, our voluptuousness. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she husked. She turned and nestled in my arms. "Will you. .. will you make me do it there? No one will see, will they?"

"No one-no one but I. You will offer your bottom as you gave your mouth."

So saying, I raised her dress at the back and fondled the satiny orb. Feeling between the cheeks I circled the ball of my thumb about her rosehole, making her clutch my neck and quiver.

"It will b.,. b… be too big!" she quavered.

"Be still!" 1 said sternly, "hold your legs straight, reach up on your toes. Hold so, Caroline!"

"Blub!" she choked. Easing my thumb within I felt her warm tightness to the knuckle, her gripping. Her gripping was as a baby's mouth. With a smooth movement of my free arm I scooped her dress up at the front and cupped her nest. It pulsed in its pulsing. My thumb purred between the lips and parted them.

"Still!" I commanded her. "Hold your dress up-waist high, Caroline!" She obeyed, swaying on her toes as she was. Her eyes glazed as I moved my thumb up deeper into her most secret recess, toying with the small perky button of her clitoris at the same time.

…" she began. I Unable to keep her balance, her heels chattered on the floor. "Wh… Wh… Whoooooo!" she whimpered.

I allowed her the sounds, the small outburstings of breath. The warmth emanating from between her silky thighs was delicious. Had I not intended now to keep her separated from the others I would have had Maria or Jenny enter and tongue her.

"Be quiet now-be quiet now, darling," I coaxed. I had moved to her side in the moving of my hands. Her fingers sought to release her uplifted skirt and clutch at air, but by some silent command they stayed. The folds drooped but a little. The pallor of her thighs gleamed above the blue darkness of her stocking.

The natural elasticity of her bottom eased a little until I was able to insert my thumb fully, my fingers flirting with the nether cheeks. The oiliness of her slit increased-its pulsing fluttered.

"B… B… Beatrice!" she stammered. Her head hung back until I almost feared she might collapse. An intense quivering ran through her. The curving of her straightened legs was exquisite. Of a sudden then her head snapped back, her shoulders slumping as I withdrew my thumb.

"OH!" she choked and would have slid to the floor had I not caught her. "Oh, B:.. Beatrice!"

"So, it shall be," I smiled and kissed her mouth. She would make much of it in the beginning. In time she would kneel for it with glowing pride-an altar of love. After two years, as I had promised myself, she would return to her everydayness, free to leave or to stay.

You ask why-and I know not. Who shall be free and who not? I had chosen to ordain. There were those who would follow and those who would not. Through the dark glass of unknowing they would seek my image. At night they would huddle in the woods, the shrubs, among the wet leavescrying for my presence. I would untie their childhoods. The last drums of their youth would beat for them. In their submission would be their comforting. Wailing and crying they would succumb to that which they had longed for. The whip would burnish their bottoms in their weepings. The velvet curtains would be drawn-receive their tears. The dry leaves of the aspidistras would accept their lamentations. In the mornings they would be as choir girls, clothed in white. Calmed from the storm they would talk softly, twittering. I would absolve their sins. I would teach. In time they would learn the inferiority of mere-the penis-bearers, the money bringers. For as such only would men be used. I would teach.

Now we composed ourselves again. Caroline sat fidgeting a little while Maria removed the tray. She would prepare a meal for Frederick and her husband on their arrival later; I told her. Together with herself and Jenny they would eat in the kitchen.