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Caroline lay waiting for me upon my bed with a look of such tremulousness that I slid down upon her. The petals of her lips grew softer under mine.
'Do you remember French drinking?' I asked her.
She blushed, nodded and murmured softly, drawing me more protectively upon her. I toyed with her thighs gently and with my other hand ran my forefinger along the succulent curve of her lower lip.
'You liked it?' I asked.
She hesitated, then lisped a sibilant yes. Her breath flooded warm over my cheek.
'When we return I will dress you as a little girl,' I said.
She giggled and clutched me tighter. 'Will you?' she asked shyly. Her heart palpitated, our breasts bulbing together.
'There shall be sweetness, punishments and pleasures, Caroline. I shall bring you to them all. Fetch wine now - an uncorked bottle - go!'
So astonished was she at my sudden command that she leapt up immediately as I rolled away from her.
'And a napkin,' I added.
Clattering with unseemly haste she was gone and had returned within several minutes. In the meantime I had stripped to my boots and stockings and told her to do the same. Then, before her wide-eyed look, I lay back with the napkin beneath my bottom and my legs spread and dangling over the edge of the bed.
'This is the way we shall French-drink in future,' I told her and motioned for the wine, at the same time making her kneel between my legs.
The bottle came cool, between my breasts. I inverted it so that the neck pointed downwards towards my belly, laid flat. The ball of my thumb held tightly over the neck. Raising my feet I laid them against her back, impelling her mouth inwards where the lips of my quim awaited her first salute. Ah! the sweet brushing of her mouth, half shy, half bold. Slowly I eased my thumb from the bottle neck until it but covered half. The wine trickled down. Down in its trickling down it meandered. Over my belly coursing, into the bush of curls seeking.
'Lick - drink,' I whispered.
The cool flowing of the wine which I released in bubbling streams was sweet to my skin, yet no sweeter than the more eager lapping now of Caroline's tongue. The tip curled and filtered between the lips of my lovepot, seeking upwards to my sprouting bud as the wine rolled gaily upon it and was received into her mouth. I longed to buck, but I dared not or the wine would have shivered in sprinkling sparklings everywhere. My legs quivered and straightened, sliding down from her back.
Brazenly I parted them wider, arching my toes as a myriad delicious sensations overtook me. The gurgling of Caroline's throat as she received the increasing flood of wine was itself music, yet I must not forget my place, my purpose, nor my disciplines.
'You shall French-drink so, Caroline - the prick in your bottom,' I husked. 'Wriggle your bottom as if now you were receiving it - lick faster!'
I desired to cry out that I was coming, yet some instinct told me not to divulge even to Caroline the degrees of my pleasure. Muted whimpers broke from my pursed lips as a thousand tiny rockets seemed to soar and explode in my belly. The saltness of my spillings in their spurtings no doubt communicated itself to her in a fine spray over her tongue.
I sighed, relaxed, and knew at long last my pleasure. My thumb covered the mouth of the bottle anew. I permitted no more to flow. With a tender but firm motion I pressed her mouth away. I was truly soaked. 'Bathe me,' I murmured.
I rose and preceded her into the bathroom. 'Do not speak - you may speak later,' I told her.
The sponge laved me. I arose and was dried again. I took her then to the basin, bending her over it with my hand gripping the nape of her neck and washed her face.
We returned to the bedroom where I lay back full length. A scent of saffron came from the drawer of my dressing table where Mary or Maria had evidently sprinkled herbs. Waiting with owl-like eyes of blue, Caroline sat tentatively beside me and gazed down upon me. My fingers played with the backs of hers.
'Do you understand?' I asked. Her lips moved as if to seek words that had long flown. My arm reached upwards, looping about her neck and drawing her down of a sudden so that the corner of her mouth came to mine. 'You will know your purities, Caroline. The 0 is a purity. It circles within and without itself, knowing no otherness. Your mouth is an 0 - your bottom presents an equal roundness. Between your thighs the 0 has surrendered itself in its outerness to an oval, an ellipse. Within its knowing is the 0 - between your bottom cheeks another. The 0 of your roseness. The male stamen will enter it and impel the long jets of its succulence within. You will receive, absorb - even as your mouth absorbed. Did it not?'
I seized her golden hair, making her squeal. Her face lifted in startlement. Then, by a loosing of my clutch, she slithered down and buried her nose between my breasts. Her arms encircled my waist.
'Do not punish me for it,' she murmured.
I played with her locks, running my fingers through the silky curls. 'Punishments and pleasures, Caroline. Have I not told you? You will suck it in my presence, bent upon your task. The while that it throbs in your mouth your bottom will receive the whip.'
'Oh, please no! Beatrice, no!'
'There shall be stables, too, Caroline. I have engaged Maria to keep them clean - to monitor my captives. Shall you be one?' Caroline dared not to raise her eyes. Her mouth nuzzled between the orbing of my breasts. I waited long on her reply. The whisperings of shyness, shyness in her mind breathed their illicit thoughts upon me.
'Shall . . . shall it be as with Frederick?' her whisper came to me aloud.
'Penis-bearers?' I mocked her lightly. 'I shall have you blindfolded sometimes, my sweet. You will not know who your stallion is.'
'Will you not love me, Beatrice?'
I drew her up slowly until her face came over mine. Broadening my stockinged thighs, I allowed her legs to slip between mine and pecked at her lips. 'In obedience there is love - in love there is obedience,' I said. I slid my hand upwards beneath the long fall of her hair at the back and took her neck between thumb and fingers. It pleased me to do so even as I sensed that it pleased her to be held in this way. I felt her trembling. The moist lips of her pussy nestled into my own. 'Have you not been stilled, Caroline?'
'Please kiss me - please, I want your tongue,' she husked. I smiled. Her moods were as the light passing of summer clouds. I could reach up and touch them. 'Suck upon it,' I breathed. Possessed as I am of a long tongue, I inserted it stiffly into her mouth. The suction of her lips was delicious.
She moved them back and forth over the sleek, velvety wetness and murmured incoherently while I squirmed my hand down between our bellies and cupped her plump little mount. The curls fizzed to my fingers. Caroline squirmed, endeavouring to bring her button to my caresses, but I laughed within her mouth and smacked her bottom suddenly with my free hand making her yelp.
'D-don't!' she bubbled. Her face hid itself against my neck. 'What is stilled, Beatrice?'
'The male stem in your bottom, my love - urging, gliding, deep in. There it stays for a long moment and is withdrawn.'
'OH!' I could feel the heat of her blushing against my skin, 'it. . . it would be too big!' she stammered.
I laughed. The ceiling received the pleasure in my eyes. A warmness flowed over me. Caroline had, after all, been reserved for the cock I would present to her. 'Your bottom cheeks are deliciously elastic, Caroline. The first time you will experience considerable tightness, but you will yield. You will feel the veins, the knob, the inpushing - the breath will explode from your lungs. But on the second,' I went on, ignoring her wrigglings that were meant together with her silly, tumbling words to express refusal, 'on the second bout, my sweet, your rosehole will receive the repeated pistoning of the cock until you have drawn forth his spurting juice.'
'No! I don't want to!' she whined.
'Then you will be whipped first - or strapped perhaps.' With each word then I smacked her bottom loudly, tucking my free arm tightly about her slender waist while she jolted and struggled madly. Finally I let her roll free. Her pert bottom was a perfect picture of pinkness, splurged with the paler marks my fingers had imprinted. Drawing up her knees she sobbed and lay with her face against the wall. I waited. After a moment when she had not moved I rose and put on my dress. Immediately she spun over and lay upon her back.
'Wh-what are you doing?' she asked. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her hair mussed. In such disarray she looked at her prettiest.
'Maria will learn to use the strap on you now,' I said severely. Without looking at her I brushed my hair in the mirror. Caroline rolled immediately off the bed and, kneeling, hugged my legs.
'If I say that I will - please!' she begged.
I glanced down at her and then resumed my brushing. 'It is not for you to say, Caroline,' I answered briefly. I moved away from her by force so that she slumped upon the floor, looking as forlorn as she could contrive. It was a game that she was learning, I could sense, yet her knowing must not be too great. Not as yet. In a year or two perhaps. The fine balance of yes and no was truly here. I looked down upon her once more. The violin curves of her hips were indeed sweet, the upsweep of her bottom infinitely appealing.
With a slightly greater plumpness than Amanda there possessed, Caroline would surrender eventually to her pleasures more than she knew. Head hanging and eyes clouded, she rose slowly to her feet and endeavoured to hug me. I stood unmoving.
'Do not let Maria strap me hard,' she murmured. Her fingertips fluttered about my back like petals falling. When I did not answer she snuggled into me closer, manoeuvring one thigh and trying to press it between my own. 'Do you not love me?' she whispered.
I raised her face at last. 'In all my being,' I replied softly and kissed her mouth. 'Now go upstairs - I shall strap you myself. You will learn.'
'Yes,' Caroline whispered. It was a plea rather than acceptance. Another moment and I might have relented.
'Go,' I said again, 'wait for me - over the bar. Leave your dress here.'
Her footsteps slouched. Her look was a lostness - sweet and well contrived. It passed across my mirror and was ignored. Five minutes later the strap swathed heat across her cheeks. In her sobbing cries, as she gripped the bar beneath, was her surrender.