Fifty Shades of Victorian Desire (27 page)

The beseeching blue eyes that glanced up at Monsignor’s
drawing room ceiling, as though in silent adoration and heartfelt praise at the warm stream I seemed to be spurting into her very vitals. The quick nervous shifting of her fleshy buttocks, as she strove to ease herself of her own pent-up store of liquid, and then the heartfelt sigh of joy and relief that escaped her ruby lips as I withdrew my tongue and she discharged the
sang de la vie
at the same moment.

Oh! there is no language copious enough to do justice to the acmé of a first fuck, nor is there under God’s sun a nation which has yet invented a term sufficiently comprehensive to picture the emotions of a man’s mind as he mounts a girl he knows from digital proof to be a maid as pure in person, and as innocent of prick, dildo, or candle as arctic snow.

Scarcely had I dismounted and reassured Lucy with a ‘serious’ kiss that it was all right, and that she need not alarm herself, when Madeline came running in.

Oh! Lucy,’ cried she, ‘such fun,’ then, seeing me, she abruptly broke of with – ‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Clinton, I did not see you were here.’

Lucy, who was now in a sitting posture, joined in the conversation, and I saw by the ease of her manner that she had entirely recovered her self-possession, and that I could rejoin the gentlemen downstairs.

‘Do tell those stupid men not to stay there over their cigars all day. It is paying us no great compliment,’ was Madeline’s parting shot.

In another moment I was in my seat again, and prepared for a resumption of Monsignor’s lecture on birch rods.

‘Where the Devil have you been to, Clinton?’ said De Vaux.

‘Where it would have been quite impossible for you to have acted as my substitute,’ I unhesitatingly replied.

My answer made them all laugh, for they thought I referred to the water closet, whereas I was of course alluding to Lucy, and I knew I was stating a truism in that case as regarded De Vaux, for he was scarcely yet convalescent from a bad attack of Spanish glanders, which was always his happy method of expressing the clap.

Now, my dear Mr. Clinton, I wish you particularly to observe the tough fibre of these rods,’ said Monsignor Peter, as he handed me a bundle so perfectly and symmetrically arranged that I could not help remarking on it.

‘Ah!’ said Monsignor, ‘that is a further proof of how popular the flagellating art has become. So large a trade is being done, sir, in specially picked birch of the flogging kind, that they are hand sorted by children and put up in bundles by machinery, as they appear here, and my own impression is that if the Canadian Government were to impose an extra duty on these articles, for they almost come under the heading of manufactures, and not produce, a large revenue would accrue; but enough of this,’ said the reverend gentleman, seeing his audience were becoming somewhat impatient. ‘You saw at the dinner table the young lady I addressed as Lucy.’

I reflected for a moment to throw them off their guard, and then said, suddenly, ‘Oh, yes, the sweet thing in white.’

‘Well,’ continued Monsignor Peter,’ her father is a long time since dead, and her mother is in very straitened circumstances; the young girl herself is a virgin, and I have this morning paid to her mother a hundred pounds to allow her to remain in my house for a month or so with the object of initiating her.’

‘Initiating her into the Church?’ enquired I, laughing to myself, for I knew that her initiation in other respects was fairly well accomplished, and my prick wagged a responsive hear, hear, in a most appreciative fashion.

‘No,’ smiled Monsignor, touching the rods significantly; ‘this is the initiation to which I refer.’

‘What,’ cried I, aghast, ‘are you going to birch her?’

‘We are,’ put in Dr. Price, ‘her first flagellation will be tonight, but this is merely an experimental one. A few strokes well administered, and a quick fuck after to determine my work on corpuscular action of the blood particles, tomorrow she will be in better form to receive second class instruction, and we hope by the end of the month –’

‘To have a perfect pupil,’ put in Father Peter, who did not relish Dr. Price taking the lead on a flagellation subject, ‘but let us proceed to the drawing room, Boniface, put that bundle in the birch box, and bring it upstairs.’

So saying, the chief exponent of flagellation in the known world led the way upstairs to the drawing room, and we followed, though I must confess that in my case it was with no little trepidation, for I felt somehow as though I were about to assist at a sacrifice.

As we entered the room we found Lucy in tears, and Madeline solacing her, but she no sooner saw us than, breaking from her friend, she threw herself at Monsignor’s feet, and clinging to his knees, sobbed out, Oh, Father Peter, you have always been a kind friend to my mother and myself, do say that the odious tale of shame that girl has poured into my ears is not true.’

‘Good God!’ muttered I, ‘they have actually chosen Madeline as the instrument to explain what they are about to do.’

‘Rise, my child,’ said Monsignor, ‘do not distress yourself, but listen to me,’ half bearing the form of the really terrified young thing to the couch, we gathered round in a circle and listened.

‘You, doubtless, know, my sweet daughter,’ began the wily and accomplished priest, ‘that the votaries of science spare neither friends nor selves in their efforts to unravel the secrets of nature. Time and pains are of no object to them, so that the end be accomplished.’

To this ominous introduction Lucy made no response.

‘You have read much, daughter of mine,’ said Monsignor, stroking her silken hair, ‘and when I tell you that your dead father devoted you to the fold of Mother Church, and that your mother and I both think you will best be serving her ends and purposes by submitting yourself to those tests which will be skilfully carried out without pain, but, on the contrary, with an amount of pleasure such as you cannot even guess at, you will probably acquiesce.’

Lucy’s eyes here caught mine, and although I strove to reassure her with a look that plainly intimated no harm should come to her, she was some time before she at last put her hand in the cleric’s, and said, ‘Holy Father, I do not think you would allow any thing very dreadful, I will submit, for my mother, when I left her this morning, told me above all things to be obedient to you in everything, and to trust you implicitly.’

‘That is my own trump of a girl,’ said Monsignor, surprised for the first time during the entire evening into a slang expression, but I saw his large round orbs gloating over his victim, and his
whole frame trembled with excitement, as he led Lucy into the adjoining apartment, and left her alone with Madeline.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Monsignor, ‘the moment approaches, and you will forgive me, Mr. Clinton, if I have to indulge in a slight coarseness of language, but time presses, and plain Saxon is the quickest method of expression. Personally, I do not feel inclined to fuck Lucy myself. As a matter of fact I had connection with her mother the night previous to her marriage, and as Lucy was born exactly nine months afterwards, I am rather in doubt as to the paternity.’

‘In other words,’ said I, astounded, ‘you think it possible that you may be her father.’

‘Precisely,’ said Monsignor. ‘You see that the instant the flagellation is ended, somebody must necessarily fuck her, and personally my objection prevents me. Boniface, here, prefers boys to women, and Dr. Price will be too busy taking notes, so that it rests between you and De Vaux, who had better toss up.’

De Vaux, who was stark mad to think that his little gonorhoeic disturbance was an insuperable obstacle, pleaded an engagement later on, which he was bound to fulfil, and, therefore, Monsignor Peter told me to be sure to be ready the instant I was wanted.

Madeline entered at this moment, and informed us that all was ready, but gave us to understand that she had experienced the greatest difficulty in overcoming poor Lucy’s natural scruples at being exposed in all her virgin nakedness to the gaze of so many of the male sex.

‘She made a very strange observation too,’ continued Madeline, looking at me with a drollery I could not understand, ‘she said, if it had been only Mr. Clinton, I don’t think I should have minded quite so much.’

‘Oh! all the better,’ said Father Peter, ‘for it is Mr. Clinton who will have to relieve her at the finish.’

With these words we proceeded to the birching room, which it appears had been furnished by these professors of flagellation with a nicety of detail, and an eye to everything accessory to the art that was calculated to inspire a neophyte like myself with the utmost astonishment.

On a framework of green velvet was a soft down bed, and reclined on this full length was the blushing Lucy.

Large bands of velvet, securely buckled at the sides held her
in position, while her legs, brought well together and fastened in the same way, slightly elevated her soft shapely arse.

The elevation being further aided by an extra cushion, which had been judiciously placed under the lower portion of her belly.

Monsignor bent over her and whispered a few soothing words into her ear, but she only buried her delicate head deeper into the down of the bed, while the reverend Father proceeded to analyse the points of her arse.

Having all of them felt her arse in turn, pinching it as though to test its condition, much as a
connoisseur
in horseflesh would walk round an animal he was about to buy, Monsignor at length said, ‘What a superb picture,’ his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets, ‘you must really excuse me, gentlemen, but my feelings overcome me,’ and taking his comely prick out of his breeches, he deliberately walked up to Madeline, and before that fair damsel had guessed his intentions, he had thrown her down on the companion couch to Lucy’s, and had fucked her heart out in a shorter space of time than it takes me to write it.

To witness this was unutterably maddening, I scarcely knew what to be at, my heart beat wildly, and I should then and there have put it into Lucy myself, had I not been restrained by Father Boniface, who, arch vagabond that he was, took the whole business as a matter of course, and merely observed to Monsignor that it would be as well to get it over as soon as possible, since Mr. Clinton was in a devil of a hurry.

Poor Lucy was deriving some consolation from Dr. Price in the shape of a few drops of Pinero Balsam in champagne, while as for De Vaux he was groaning audibly, and when the worthy Father Peter came to the short strokes De Vaux’s chordee became so unbearable that he ran violently out into Monsignor’s bedroom, as he afterwards informed me, to bath his balls in ice water.

To me there was something rather low and shocking in a fuck before witnesses, but that is a squeamishness that I have long since got the better of.

Madeline having wiped Monsignor’s prick with a piece of
mousseline delaine
, a secret only known to the sybarite in love’s
perfect secrets, retired, presumably to syringe her fanny, and Monsignor buttoned up and approached his self-imposed task.

Taking off his coat he turned up his shirt cuffs, and Boniface handing him the birchrods, the bum warming began.

At the first keen swish poor Lucy shrieked out, but before half a dozen had descended with that quick tearing sound which betokens that there is no lack of elbow grease in the application, her groans subsided, and she spoke in a quick strained voice, begging for mercy.

‘For the love of God,’ said she, ‘do not, pray do not lay it on so strong.’

By this time her lovely arse had assumed a flushed, vermillion tinge, which appeared to darken with every stroke, and at this point Dr. Price interposed.

‘Enough, Monsignor, now my duty begins,’ and quick as thought he placed upon her bottom a piece of linen, which was smeared with an unguent, and stuck it at the sides with a small modicum of tar plaster for to prevent it from coming off.

‘Oh!’ cried Lucy, ‘I feel so funny. Oh! Mr. Clinton, if you are there, pray relieve me, and make haste.’

In an instant my trousers were down, the straps were unbuckled, and Lucy was gently turned over on her back.

I saw a delicate bush of curly hair, a pair of glorious thighs, and the sight impelled me to thrust my prick into that divine Eden I had visited but a short time before with an ardour that for a man who had lived a fairly knockabout life was inexplicable.

I had scarcely got it thoroughly planted, and had certainly not made a dozen well-sustained though rapid strokes before the gush of sperm which she emitted drew me at the same instant, and I must own that I actually thought the end of the world had come.

‘Now,’ said Dr. Price, rapidly writing in his pocket book, ‘you see that my theory was correct. Here is a maid who has never known a man and she spends within ten seconds of the entrance being effected. Do you suppose that without the birching she could have performed such a miracle?’

‘Yes,’ said I, instanter, ‘I do, and I can prove that all your surmises are but conjecture, and that even your conjecture is based upon a fallacy.’

‘Bravo,’ said Father Peter, ‘I like to see Price fairly collared.
Nothing flabbergasts him like facts. Once get him in a corner and he’s completely coopered. Dear me, how damnation slangy I am getting tonight. Lucy, dear, don’t stand shivering there, slip on your things, and join Madeline in my snuggery, we shall all be there presently. Go on, Clinton.’

‘Well,’ said I, ‘it is easy enough to refute the learned Doctor. In the first place Lucy was not a maid.’

‘That be damned for a tale,’ said Father Boniface, ‘I got her mother to let me examine her myself last night while she was asleep, and previous to handing over the hundred pounds.’

‘Yes, that I can verify,’ said Monsignor, ‘though I must admit that you have a prick like a kitchen poker, for you got into her as easy as though she’d been on a Regent-street round for twenty years.’

‘I will bet anyone here £50,’ said I, quietly taking out my pocket book, ‘that she was not a maid before I poked her just now.’