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I do not recall the passing of my dear mama, for I was then too young. I guard her likeness still, faded as it has become. That she was a gentle woman I have no doubts. I would have followed in her ways perhaps, had not my father remarried when I was thirteen.
I remember well the coming of step-mamma, as I first called her. Father was then no more than thirty-five and she his junior by seven years. I remember her being all of a glitter, much taken with jewellery as she ever is, tight tight-waisted, slender, and an allure to all male eyes. I remember that she awed me a little at first, for her voice, though well modulated, caused even papa to take immediate notice of her at all times, it having a quality to it that is rare to encounter.
Strange were those first days, for sometimes there was merriment, social gatherings and parties, and at others a benign silence in the house which papa seemed to accept as his due. My brother Robert was then fifteen and much taken with her. She would tease or even flatter him sometimes, but at others scold him and send him to his room. All things began to change. There was much alteration of furniture with carts drawn by great dray horses coming and going. This occasioned much excitement, but we were not allowed to it unduly. There was too much clutter in the rooms, she declared, and so many small tables and whatnots among which the maids had to thread their way when cleaning were cleared away and more space made. In place of small settees, larger ones brought in, their ornate coverings delighting me so that I loved to bounce up and down on them and feel their richly patterned surfaces.
I was not chided for this and felt myself perhaps my stepmother's favourite. Often she cast a most kindly eye on me and fed me tidbits so that my older sister, Sarah, and Robert became jealous, but she would have none of that. We could not but notice that papa was quieter in her presence than he had been before, and had it not been for the social proprieties I am sure she would have taken her place at the head of the table.
'I wonder she does not wear the trousers,' Sarah once remarked crossly, though the words were said without malice for it was difficult to withhold admiration from her.
My stepmama's name was Julia. The name suited her for its richness. She was above middling height and indeed when she wore boots or shoes of a certain type was to be seen as tall as papa. Her hair was sometimes taken up in a bun which revealed a lovely swanlike neck, though I preferred it when down and would beg her to let me brush it which she did, to the annoyance of Smith, her personal maid, who could often be seen glancing at her with awed eyes.
Picnics she was much fond of and would take us on them when father was about his business. From such as I learned, he had been more lax in the past with his affairs but was spurred on by her and indeed she would sometimes tell him when to go and when to return. He abided meekly by her decisions as we all did, and so as may well be imagined we looked up to her and perhaps I believe were all a little in love with her.
My special pleasure, as I grew older and attained my fifteenth year or thereabouts, was occasionally to assist her in undressing. Poor Smith would be sent out and I set first to help undo the hooks and eyes in her gown. The removal of the latter revealed a delicious nothing of lacy petticoats and underskirts. As I helped remove these in turn I would sometimes find myself touching her thighs and feeling the perfumed warmth of her body, which made me quite enamoured of her. Occasionally, when divested to her corset, stockings and bootees, she would even utter a little cooing sound as she held my hands to her plump silky thighs and moved them up and down while smiling at me.
'Do you like the bodily pleasures?' she asked me once quaintly, seating herself before her dressing table mirror. As she spoke she slowly unlaced the front of her corset and therewith unveiled two large fine breasts of such marbled whiteness that I could not help but gaze upon them in awe and envy. The brown nipples upon them, set in large aureoles of sweetly crinkled flesh, stuck out boldly, being conical and finely-pointed. With a little sigh, as if taken herself by her beauty, she then cupped them and gazed at me. 'One day yours will be as large,' she said, whereat I blushed knew not what to say. 'I believe they must be very pretty already. Show me, Clara,' she went on and turned about on her stool.
I turned my head towards the door and felt flustered, thinking that Smith might return.
'No one will come in. Take off your dress,' I was told.
The sunlight came softly into her room and made a haze of all, casting its milky shine through the dusty curtains. One is not of course ever flustered at undressing in front of another of one's own sex, but perhaps some flickering of intuition told me of something that I could not have expressed.
'Let me help you, dear,' she murmured and with that her fingers were busy all about me so that in no time at all I stood in my chemise. 'Take this off, too,' came her words. When I did so, my bubbies - already proud and firm - were revealed. Her eyes opened slightly in admiration, which of course pleased me. My titties had already grown well and would not have scorned the title of pumpkins, the skin velvet smooth and rich and proud to display my strawberry nipples. That at least is what my stepmother called them while gently tweaking the tips until my face grew flushed and I felt them stiffen. 'How well they come up,' she whispered, 'shall I show you something nice?'
I nodded, my cheeks suffused. There was a hot feeling in my eyes as she drew me towards the bed, lay down suddenly upon her back with her legs dangling over the edge and pulled me upon her so that I stumbled and fell between her stockinged legs. Holding me so, she gazed up at me quite dreamily and cupped my face in her hands.
'What a beauty you are becoming,' she murmured and then so adjusted herself with a supple movement of her body that my nipples came upon her own. 'There - is that not nice?' she said. Her lips were immediately under mine and I could scarce speak for excitement. Slipping one hand beneath my chin and keeping my mouth directed to hers, she stroked with the other down my back. I wore by then only my drawers, white stockings and strap-over shoes such as had just come into fashion. Our nipples tingled together and brushed like rubbery thorns, for I can think of no other description for the feeling. Without speaking further, she pouted her lips prettily and brushed them lightly all about my own, making me feel quite swoony. Our breaths intermingled. My breasts seemed to swell. 'I have been longing to kiss you,' she whispered against my mouth, this being said in such a soft, seductive tone that I moved my arms around her neck and felt distinctly the burr of thick curls around her pussy pressing into mine through our drawers.
Did I like it, I was asked, and I nodded as best I could in that posture and felt my face suffused still, though with excitement rather than embarrassment, and a nice tingling in my belly. Never having done such a thing before, I found the richness and warmth of her body superb under mine.
'I want to teach you. Will you let me?' she husked.
I knew not the real meaning of her words, but the helpless wonder in my eyes spoke for me. Tremulously I felt her fingers pulling on the ties of my drawers which she then began to wrinkle down. I started a little at that, but she purred something incomprehensible into my ear and then worked them so quickly down that in a trice my nudity was pressed into the cotton of her drawers where I could more distinctly feel the hump of her cunny. Then she pressed me up a little so that I had to use my hands to support myself and gaze down upon her.
'Can you feel mine better?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said, quite in a daze, but much excited. I could not resist wriggling a little which pleased her for she laughed softly.
'I like doing it through my drawers and so will you, for that is how I mean you to be fondled first, Clara. Keep your belly pressed in tightly to me while I keep my legs open. Now I shall teach you to kiss. Part your lips a little and protrude your tongue into my mouth, then you will feel my own. Move it all around so that I can feel it.'
I gurgled, I panted. What I was experiencing was so beautiful and unbelievable that all the world's other pleasures seemed as naught to this. Her tongue, wet and long, coiled about my own, causing me the most exquisite sensations as our cunnies ground together. Hers, being veiled, exuded a slight moisture which seeped through her drawers, creating an oiliness between us. Her own hips began to work more yet her movements were gentle and undulating so that it was as if I were upon a fleshly sea of wondrous curves and bumps. Her breath hissed through her nostrils in a fine spray of heat.
'More,' she choked.
I had intruded my tongue further. All time ceased and I could feel the luring moisture and the slow circling of our mouths. Gliding down slowly, her hands began caressing my smooth bottom cheeks. I quivered as she felt delicately down and into the tight groove between the chubby half-moons, which caused her to clamp my mouth the more on to hers.
'What lovely bottoms you and Sarah have. I am going to make them do such nice things,' she whispered, though only afterwards was I able to gather myself sufficiently to recall her words, which appeared to infuse her with even greater excitement for of a sudden she rolled me on to my back and, cupping her hand under my moist quim rubbed the ball of her thumb around my spot, making me writhe. 'Keep your legs open,' she admonished me, her globes rubbing suavely over my own.
So determined was her tone that I obeyed. My eyes and mouth were open. The ceiling swirled above me, the plaster cupids on it appearing to move of their own accord. Finding me quiescent and with my thighs held apart, she stroked my brow.
'What cocks are going to spout in this warm little nest! Have you seen one yet?' she asked while rubbing me gently all the time.
I shook my head. Speech would not come. My belly was melting. I began to jolt my bottom, poised as it was on the rolled edge of the bed.
'I wonder whom I shall put you to first?' she then mused. My fingers clasped and unclasped, my head rolled from side to side. Completely prey to the exciting movements of her thumb and fingers, I could but utter little gasps. The room grew ever hazier about me. I sought nothing but fulfilment, as she well knew. The fleshy bumping of her titties upon mine was delicious and added to my delirious sensations. I gritted my teeth. 'Come on, come on, Clara,' I heard her whisper. A thin whine escaped me, or a sound more akin to mewing. I raised my bottom, arched my back, and then her tongue plunged into my mouth, swirling all around my own, while I, panting madly, loosed a fine salty rain upon her fingers and - uttering a croaking gasp - all but swooned. I was dissolving as if in a pale white luminescence, my body limp and seemingly boneless. 'Good girl,' she murmured. I made to clutch at her tightly, but she rose suddenly and sauntered back to her dressing table where she sat heavily, bowed her head for a moment and then turned towards me.
'Dress yourself darling. It was but your first lesson,' she said, which made me feel so exposed and guilty that I sat up and quickly snatched at my chemise which lay crumpled near the foot of the bed. The sight of my drawers dangling around one ankle caused her to laugh fondly. 'Slowly - always slowly, Clara. Ladies do not rush,' she admonished me, then, with a laugh rose, bent over me and kissed my moist brow. 'I will teach you everything. Will you obey me?' she asked.
I wanted then to run and hide, was in two minds about everything, yet so pleasurably was I pulsing between my legs that I fain would have had her do it to me all again.
'Yes,' I heard myself reply.
While she straightened, turned back to her mirror and began humming to herself, I made myself decent, as the curious phrase has it. Lest the reader think me a natural wanton, I must take care not to write too much from hindsight. I was between my fifteenth and sixteenth years and innocent of all save what had just happened. I was not, though, a goody-goody and had begun of late to toy with myself when a-bed, though never with such delirious results as my stepmother had afforded me.
'You are my favourite - d'you know that?' she ventured while brushing her hair.
'I love you,' I said impulsively, never having used those words before.
'Of course,' she said simply, 'but we must remember that love and obedience go ever hand in hand. Will you remember that ever? I wish you to. I am obedient to my principles and to those that my dear mama instilled in me. I may even be obedient to your desires when they are more aroused in you.'
The import of such words meant little enough to me then. I was all of a-tremble with pleasure at what she had done and though I was standing docilely enough, her womanly intuitions told her so. Having me stand beside her once again, she tenderly felt all round my bottom and thighs through my dress and was pleased, I believe, that I stood submissively to this.
'Do you love me because it was nice? Answer quickly and truthfully, Clara.'
'I love you and it was nice,' I answered impulsively and again I glimpsed a look of admiration in her eyes such as flattered me greatly. While I had admired and gone in awe of her - had indeed felt affection for all her kindnesses and even her occasional sternness - I never felt towards her as I did now.
'You do not stutter and stammer your replies. I like that,' she said. 'Sarah is different from you, more fey and more awkward, but she will train well -- in due course.'
Indeed yes, I remember well the first emergence of that word from her lips. At that moment I had no cause to dwell on it, yet it embedded itself in my memory so that when I later lay in bed that night it recurred to me constantly. I knew now that something had happened between my sister and stepmother, but could not of course bring myself to ask. Then, as girls will, I persuaded myself that it was but a careless remark. I was as one who longs to say many things but does not know what they are. Sensing this, she was most patient with me.
'There is naught that anyone else need know of such things, not at least until I wish it,' said she.
The image of papa immediately sprang to mind, most naturally, for I had no doubt that she intended him as well. I was aware, as were Sarah and Robert, that he had become quieter than I somehow remembered him before his remarriage and that he deferred to her. It is said nowadays that women of our time were ever meek and dutiful, but that is not so. I have known perfect harridans who made their spouse's life a misery so that - as I also now know - they turned to gay girls for comfort. A woman then, of the time of which I speak, could not so easily be thrown out of her own house as hitherto had been the case, and if she could not vent her marital wrath upon her husband then she would do so upon the servants.
As time passed my stepmother explained all such things to me, not by lecturing but by quiet remarks that she knew would make an impression on me, as they did, for females absorb more in such matters than do males. Girls are closest to their mothers and I was to become so to my immediate female guardian.
While I now helped her to dress for the afternoon, she gave me a little tickle between my thighs - though through my dress - and laughing asked me whether I thought what we had done was naughty.
'I don't know,' I replied, very confused and shy again, now no longer within the heat of it.
'Well, it is not,' she told me bluntly, 'all pleasures are to be looked upon as pleasures provided they do no eventual harm to anyone. Did you know that I had caned your sister?'
I was startled and showed it I did not even know that we had a cane about the house.
'She was wilful. A girl must not be wilful. She must learn all for her own benefits. That is the purpose of being taught. The road may seem hard at first but soon it leads to pleasant meadows and there one may disport oneself as one wishes.'
Perhaps the most astonishing aspect of this was that Sarah had said nothing to me, though we always normally confided in each other, as sisters do. Curiously enough - and such was the strength of our stepmother's personality - I believed it all the more for Sarah's strange omission. Besides, and though this was only what might be called a side thought, the remark about my sister's bottom had intrigued me and now was cleared up.
'Oh, did it hurt her?' I asked out of curiosity but also out of protectiveness.
'No more than it will you, my pet, when I have to do it'
'She did not tell papa though?' I asked, though my tone of voice was rather in the form of a statement than a question.
'Certainly not. She knows better than to do that,' came the reply. With that she took a Turkish cigarette from a box beside her on the table and lit it. With a quite merry smile she offered one to me but I shook my head. 'You will come to like them I believe; what a pleasant perfume they give off, do you not think?'
I wanted then to take a puff but it was too late to ask and I dared not. Then, with quite a flourish she swept past me, opened a wardrobe and from a shelf took down a whippy cane, the sight of which truly made me quiver. Told to feel it, I extended my hand timidly and touched its polished surface.
'I tingled her up with it well, Clara. Do you know what being naughty is?'
'Why, yes, it is doing things that one shouldn't,' I replied naively.
'Oh? Do you think? It is also not doing things you should do - that is a mystery saying, as my mama used to call it, and you learn the meaning of it soon enough. Suppose after dinner tonight when we are all in the drawing-room, I told you to raise your dress and push your knickers down. Would it be naughty to refuse?'
'In front of all? Oh no, I couldn't!'
'Be not disturbed, I shall not ask you to. There may be occasions - occasions - where I shall, however, and if you do not then I cane you.'
'Oh!' I stepped back. I truly believed her. 'You would not,' I gasped.
Instead of replying, she ran the cane lovingly across her palm. 'It stings beautifully. You should have seen Sarah's hips waggle!'
'But what did she do?'
'Does it matter? Perhaps it was something she would not do. Will you not trust me to behave in your best interests always?'
I could reply in no other way. Most curiously or not, after what occurred I trusted her completely. I knew no strain of cruelty in her and so was more intrigued than fearful at her words.
'Let me lay it a little across your own adorable bottom. Shall I?'
Was it in truth a request or a command? I stood rigid and in that moment squeezed my nether cheeks together. 'Please don't,' I stammered.
'You are refusing? What a naughty girl you are!' But her tone was that of a tease, then she beckoned me and I softened and moved back to her. 'I would adore to cane you, Clara -- to make your bottom hot and ready,' she murmured. Quite as one mesmerised, I stood still - though my legs trembled - as with slow but certain hand she raised my dress inch by inch until first the back of my thighs and my knickered bottom were revealed.
'Stand still,' she said severely. I blinked and did so. Then, holding my dress higher, she laid the cane at a right angle across my chubby cheeks and there held it as if to give me the feel of it. I did not move nor could have done without her command and knew it. 'The cane may be cruel or it may not. It may act as a punishment or a spur. I use it only as a spur, Clara, and never cruelly. You trust me in that, do you not?' I nodded. Though wary at that moment, I did trust her. She tapped the cane lightly across my pert moon, causing me to utter a sharp 'OOOOH!' though I felt little from it.
'Now again,' she murmured, 'bend forward, keep your dress up and your bottom well stuck out'
'B-b- but... ,' I stammered. This briefest of rebellions was however quelled by a single look from her. As she stepped to one side of me, I obeyed a little miserably, feeling that I had somehow been trapped. Withall, however, I also entertained a certain sense of daring and excitement that I could not explain. Keeping my legs straight, I reared my bottom and waited.
'I adore your obedience, Clara. Remain obedient still.'
I knew then that she meant to cane me. My dress slipped but was soon drawn up again. In a businesslike manner she then turned me about so that I found my hands placed on the side of the bed. I wanted desperately to speak, to plead with her, but could find no manner of words to utter.
'Now your drawers down again,' I heard, and as recently as they had been donned so now as easily did they cascade, gliding down to my ankles and there subsiding in a forlorn pool. Her hands touched my bare bottom and I wilted. This gesture of defensiveness was ignored.
'You will learn the correct posture, my pet. Make a hollow of your back so that the moon of your bottom is made the more prominent thereby. Do not arch your back in the reverse direction for it looks absurd and is indeed naÃ¯ve.'
Her words were smooth enough but firm. Obeying hesitantly, I presented myself in the best fashion.
'Have no fear. I do not mean to scorch you,' came her voice. I heard then a hiss as of the cane slicing through the air.
'THOOO!' I squealed, for light as the stroke was, and full across my young orb, it stung me and I reared.
'Still now, Clara!' she barked.
I gave a little wailing sob and waited. My next and longer wailing cry was uttered as this time I received another scorcher, though in truth I know it to have been but a skimming motion of the cane at which she was so adept.
'NA-NAH-NAH!' I heard myself sob and worked my hips madly, endeavouring as one does to shake off the tongues of fire that were leaping through me. Even in the midst of my cry, however, a third bit into me, and this time truly did for I leapt and clutched at my bottom, not caring about my posture nor indeed obedience. I was not, however, admonished for this nor did she attempt to still me but instead cast down the cane and drew me so that I sagged against her and sobbed my protests to the world.
'Dear little one, it is but your first taster. Did I deal with you so harshly, my sweet little dear?'
I blubbered only because the thought of it had proved perhaps worse than the deed. Her hand stroked my hair, my face was pressed into her perfumed bosom. Her words ran over me like softly drifting leaves as, instead of chiding me, she praised me for my fortitude. This causing me to sob louder, I was kissed on my moist wobbling mouth and once more found myself clinging to her.
'Are you not grateful that I did not really sting you? It does not hurt? Does it really hurt - really, really?'
I cried on for effect a little and she knew it, stroked my hair and kissed my nose and brow.
'You come up well, darling - you lift it well. We call it presenting, now, and I shall teach you a little more about that later. There let me soothe your nice hot bottom. A little hot, is it not, but you cannot say that I truly hurt you, can you?'
I shook my head, face hidden. It had stung me awfully, yet I could not describe it as a pain.
'Now, darling, the final salute. Your tongue, quickly,' she breathed. My face was lifted. I surrendered anew, but therewith her forefinger found the tight, warm cleft of my bottom and rotated its tip around my puckered hole. Feeling the strange sensation of that touch I pressed myself into her involuntarily, which was what she desired for her finger followed and gently rubbed me there again all around the rubbery rim of my secrecy. Thus our bellies and legs were tight together and I could not escape, intoxicated anew by the sweet lashing of her tongue. Curiously enough I felt then with her progressive caressing a slight moisture in my bottomhole and my knees sagged. Then, withdrawing her mouth from mine but keeping the tip of her finger ever pressed demandingly there, she smiled down at me.
'Oh yes, truly you are my favourite,' she whispered, 'and you have had your first trials.'