Portrait of a Disciplinarian Page 7

  As he grew hard in her mouth she thought about how the same fine cock had felt between the cheeks of her bottom, and wished she could take him inside her properly, surrendering her virginity then and there, in the warm spring air with the countryside spread out all round them. Yet she held back, determined to reserve the moment for her wedding night, but pleased that she had learnt to appreciate men’s cocks beforehand, and excited enough to want to touch herself even before he was fully erect.

  She tried to hold back and to concentrate on his pleasure rather than her own. Grateful for Lias Snell’s brief but practical lesson in the art of sucking a penis, she began to try out recommended techniques, first sucking on his helmet in imitation of a lollipop while she masturbated him into her mouth, then nibbling at the fleshy mass of his foreskin where it had peeled back down his shaft, lastly pulling out his balls to lick them with the tip of her tongue. He had opened his eyes and was watching in ecstasy and astonishment as she worked on his cock, and she gave him a little smile before popping him into her mouth once more.

  He closed his eyes again, and the urge to play with herself was now too strong to be ignored. With no more than a touch of embarrassment, she reached down between her thighs and eased a hand into the slit of her union suit. Her quim was already puffy and open, the centre wet and sensitive to her fingers. She took his cock in her other hand and pulled it from her mouth, tugging up and down on the shaft, licking and kissing the tip as she masturbated them both. Little shocks were already running through her body, and she began to rub harder, lost to all thoughts of decency as she pressed his cock against her face, bumping it over her nose and lips while still tugging furiously at the shaft.

  She was going to come; her quim and bottom hole were already in contraction. The feelings in her head were almost worshipful: she could not get enough of his cock, alternately sucking and rubbing it on her face, then licking his balls as she pulled on his shaft, which made him come. It was sudden and unexpected, a great gout of thick white spunk erupting from the tip of his cock, full in her face. A thrill of ecstasy ran through her as the sticky mess splashed across her nose and one cheek, and again as the second spurt caught her full in the mouth. She deliberately swallowed it, adding a delicious, dirty thrill to her climax as she rode it, and continued to milk his cock into her mouth and over her face, leaving her smeared with mingled come and saliva. Her excitement finally began to fade.

  ‘Sorry about that, old thing,’ Freddie gasped. ‘Couldn’t help it. Have a handkerchief.’

  Stephanie accepted the handkerchief and began to clean up. Her knees were sore from the hard marble and even as she got up one leg wouldn’t stop shaking, but she felt triumphant. Freddie was looking at her in awe, his mouth open like that of an expectant goldfish, an expression he usually reserved only for the tensest of cricket matches. As she put her make-up to rights she was sure he was only waiting for the moment to ask her to marry him. He failed to come up to scratch, though, contenting himself with taking her hand as they walked back down the slope, until she was forced to drop a hint.

  ‘You do understand,’ she said coyly, ‘that I would never do such a thing for any ordinary man?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ he assured her.

  ‘Only for a man I could really trust,’ she went on.

  ‘Oh absolutely.’

  ‘Only for a man I love …’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘… and who loves me.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘My soulmate, my life’s companion.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘A man with whom I could walk down the aisle of any church in the land and say to myself, “Stiffy, this is the one, my love eternal, my knight on a snow-white charger, the lodestar of my life and the only plum in the pudding.”’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘Frederick George Stanislaus Drake, if you don’t stop saying “Oh, absolutely” in that infuriating manner and ask me to marry you this instant I shall do something very unladylike with the tip of my parasol.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘What do you mean, “Ah”?’

  ‘Just “Ah”.’

  ‘No, not just “Ah”. Why not?’

  ‘Well, er … it’s like this,’ Freddie stammered, his face now the colour of beetroot. ‘Naturally there’s nothing in the world I’d like more than to marry you, Stiffy old bean, and I must say that after that splendid treat I shall still be kicking myself on the day I hand in my dinner-pail, but the thing is … the thing is, you see, that I sort of … inadvertently, you understand, got engaged last night to Myrtle Finch-Farmiloe.’

  * * *

  ‘He let me, and then he told me he was engaged to Myrtle!’ Stephanie stormed. ‘He let me suck his beastly penis, and then he told me he was engaged to Myrtle Finch-flipping-Farmiloe!’

  ‘You should have kicked him,’ Hermione answered with sympathy.

  ‘I did,’ Stephanie assured her, ‘several times, and I hit him with my parasol, but however soothing these things are, they don’t solve anything.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he’d have the nerve to tell her it’s off?’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t, and anyway, I suggested that and he just started going on about the code of the Drakes. We’ll have to get Myrtle to break it off herself, which won’t be easy. She’s been trying to get her claws into him for simply ages.’

  ‘You could tell her he made you suck his thingy,’ Hermione suggested.

  ‘It wouldn’t work,’ Stephanie pointed out. ‘She’d just pretend to forgive him and then use it as ammunition every time they had an argument for the next fifty years.’

  She didn’t mention the revenge that Myrtle would take on her, but contented herself with a delicate shudder and went back to brooding on Freddie’s behaviour. They were on their way to Stukely Hall, walking between high, primrose-strewn banks with the woods and Dartmoor rising beyond the end of the lane, but neither the beauty of the place nor the prospect of once again meeting the rather less beautiful Elias Snell could do much to reduce her anger.

  ‘How about this book Porker’s making?’ Hermione asked. ‘We could clean up.’

  ‘I was thinking the same,’ Stephanie admitted, ‘before Freddie … never mind. If we get our money on the Emperor, ante-post at five to one, and Singularis Porcus goes missing, we’d do well, but we’d do better still if we leak the Emperor’s true weight first, then get in when the odds are long.’

  ‘Won’t Porker scratch the bets?’ Hermione queried.

  ‘Why should he?’ Stephanie answered. ‘All the straight money will be on Singularis Porcus, and he can lower the odds on the Emperor when he takes over as favourite.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Hermione admitted, ‘but we’d need to put the money on before we pinch the pig, and you won’t be able to touch Grandpapa until afterwards.’

  ‘I’ll borrow it from Freddie,’ Stephanie stated. ‘After this morning he wouldn’t have the nerve to refuse.’

  They had reached the Okehampton Road, and the towers of Stukely Hall were visible among the trees a little way to the south. Having telephoned ahead to say that they would be coming for lunch, they let themselves in at the tall wrought-iron gates and were presently making polite conversation with their grandmother and great-grandmother. Each of the old ladies seemed determined to outdo the other in spoiling the girls, convinced that both Stephanie and Hermione, who was still carrying enough puppyfat for a litter of Great Danes, needed feeding up.

  After her third helping of plum duff with clotted cream Stephanie realised that politeness was no longer an option, and that she had a simple choice between refusing a fourth helping and being violently sick. Her stomach was a hard, round ball beneath her dress, and she wasn’t at all sure if, when the time came to get up and leave the table, she would be able to do so.

  After a game of cribbage, and some more polite conversation, they were able to leave on the pretext of taking a walk on the moors to aid their digest
ion. Leaving the hall by the moor gate, they looped round through the woods and once more came to the road, just in time to see Elias Snell and his dray approaching. There was a wide point in the road beside the low bridge where it spanned the river Lyd, and they signalled to him to pull in. There was no mistaking the nature of his grin as he jumped down to the ground.

  ‘Afternoon,’ he greeted them, his eyes flicking from Stephanie’s chest to Hermione’s and back. ‘Myrtle, is it?’

  Remembering the name she had given in Princetown, Stephanie bit back the hot retort that came to her lips at being mistaken for Myrtle Finch-Farmiloe.

  ‘Myrtle, yes,’ she replied instead, ‘and this is my sister –’

  ‘Jane,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Snell.’

  ‘No more pleased than I am to meet you, my dear,’ he answered, casting another thoughtful glance at her chest. ‘I hear you want to hire my dray?’

  ‘We do,’ Stephanie confirmed, ‘but only if we can be assured of your absolute discretion.’

  Lias made a face, then answered slowly.

  ‘Expensive thing, discretion.’

  ‘We realise that,’ Stephanie said, struggling to keep her voice formal, ‘and I feel that what we, er … my sister, that is, is offering as remuneration will be fully commensurate with your requirements.’

  ‘Beg pardon, Miss?’ Lias responded.

  Stephanie tried again.

  ‘We are able to offer ample payment, but only in kind rather than in any financial sense.’

  Lias nodded, but with no real understanding.

  ‘She means that if you help us I have to suck your thingy,’ Hermione said glumly.

  ‘Now that I understand,’ he replied, grinning. ‘So what’s on your mind?’

  ‘Can we be sure of your discretion?’ Stephanie insisted.

  ‘Look at it this way, my dear,’ he answered her. ‘If my Anne were to find out what you and I got up to up along Postbridge way she wouldn’t be best pleased, and nor would your father, I dare say. So yes, I’ll keep tight-lipped. So what is it? Surely a couple of nice young ladies like you look to be wouldn’t be thinking of going against the law?’

  ‘Hardly that,’ Stephanie answered, and attempted an airy laugh. ‘It’s just a little prank we want to play on a neighbour. What we need to do …’

  She began to explain. His eyebrows gradually rose as he listened, and when she had finished he remained silent for a long time before giving his reply.

  ‘So, if I’m straight, you want me to help you steal a prize pig from Sir Murgatroyd Drake, who’s magistrate to Tavistock court, and bring him here in my dray, then help you with him again as far Okehampton Station?’

  ‘Yes,’ Stephanie admitted, ‘although “steal” is really too strong a word.’

  ‘Steal is steal,’ he insisted. ‘I’m not saying I won’t do it, mind, and no offence to you, Miss Jane, because you’re as pretty as a picture, but it’s a fearful risk to be taking for a chew of my bone.’

  ‘Perhaps one now and one on the night then?’ Stephanie suggested. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Her … Jane?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Hermione assured her, ‘as long as you’re the one doing the sucking the second time, or better still, both times.’

  ‘You agreed to do it!’

  ‘Once!’

  ‘Girls, girls,’ Lias interrupted. ‘There’s no cause for you to argue, seeing as the least I’ll be wanting is to have the pair of you together, twice at the least, and afters to keep my mouth shut, extras too.’

  ‘Together?’ Stephanie demanded.

  ‘What sort of extras?’ Hermione asked suspiciously.

  ‘Much of what Myrtle gave me,’ he explained, ‘a show of your dumplings and sit-upons, maybe a peep of your cunts and arseholes, a bit of dirty play even.’

  ‘Dirty play?’ both girls exclaimed together.

  ‘Rubbing each other and that,’ Lias explained. ‘Maybe a bit of cunt licking, and don’t going playing the innocent with me. I know how you squire’s daughters keep yourselves for your husbands. By pleasuring each other, ain’t it so?’

  Both Stephanie had Hermione had gone bright red and neither was able to speak, but Lias had no such difficulties.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to see that, I have, a couple of pert little strumpets like yourselves stroking each other’s titties and backsides and, best of all, licking cunt.’

  He said the last word with a click of his tongue, his voice thick with anticipation. His hand had gone to his trousers, to adjust his cock, and Stephanie finally found her voice.

  ‘Why, you filthy old goat!’

  Lias merely shrugged, produced his ancient and blackened pipe from the recesses of his clothing and began to fill it. The state of his cock, which was making a long bulge in the front of his trousers, suggested that his indifference was largely feigned. Stephanie swallowed and forced herself to continue the negotiation.

  ‘I don’t think you realise how precious what we are offering is –’

  ‘To you, maybe,’ he interrupted, never taking his eyes from the tobacco he was packing into his pipe.

  ‘And how often, pray, are you offered such … such delights?’ Stephanie asked.

  ‘About as often as I risk coming up before the magistrate for stealing his prize pig,’ Lias responded.

  ‘Yes, well,’ she responded, ‘if you do as you’re told, that needn’t be a concern. I … my sister and I will … will use our mouths on you as often as you like, until I leave for London with the pig.’

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ Hermione interrupted.

  ‘Don’t be difficult,’ Stephanie answered. ‘At least I’m not giving in to what he expected.’

  ‘I’d rather cuddle with you than suck his horrid thingy,’ Hermione responded.

  Stephanie had thought her face could get no hotter, but abruptly discovered that she had been wrong. Lias laughed, struck a match and sucked the flame into his pipe as once more Stephanie was left struggling to find words with which to express herself.

  ‘I think he has rather more than a cuddle in mind,’ she finally managed.

  Lias nodded earnestly. Hermione gave a single, sulky shrug. Stephanie grimaced in frustration and, for a moment, considered abandoning the entire project, only to remember that Myrtle Finch-Farmiloe was now engaged to Freddie Drake. The secretary’s position at Gaspers was far less important, but to lose both would be intolerable. Trying to reconcile herself to what he was suggesting, she thought back to the fourth most embarrassing incident of her life, when she had been caught by her grandmother while demonstrating to Hermione some of the less cruel tricks she had been taught by Myrtle. Just the thought sent her face flaring red once more, and she realised that if she did as Lias was suggesting, the incident would rapidly be demoted. Whatever Hermione might think, it was far worse than sucking a penis.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘if I were to do the sucking part, Herm … Jane might show off for you, as you made me do before?’

  ‘Now you’re tempting me,’ Lias replied. ‘Leastways, that would make a nice start, and we can see how we go on from there.’

  Stephanie glanced at her sister, who was looking sulkier than ever but made no objection.

  ‘Bare arse, mind you,’ Lias remarked, ‘and a good jiggle of those fat little dumplings.’

  Hermione made a face and without another word started towards the wood. Stephanie swallowed hard. What had been a highly embarrassing but essentially detached negotiation had suddenly become a very immediate reality, and she could think of no reason to delay things, or at least no reason that Lias Snell was likely to accept.

  He had moved to where his horses were standing patiently beside the road, and was puffing on his pipe as he fitted feedbags over their heads and did complicated things with bits of harness, with no sign of hurry save the occasional adjustment of his cock within his trousers. Hermione had already climbed the low stone wall that bordered the wood, and Stephanie followed,
walking a little way in among the trees to join her. They shared a single, resigned glance before taking each other’s hands and walking deeper in.

  Both of them had played in the woods as children, and without needing to confer they made for the same place, a flat area of rock beside the river, which was scoured clean each time it rained heavily and was ideal for picnics, building a fire or, as in this case, showing off to a dirty old man. Reaching the rock, they waited for Lias to catch up before Hermione spoke.

  ‘I shall perform a tableau entitled “Girl Bathing in the Belief that she is in Private”.’

  ‘You perform what you like, my dear,’ he said graciously, ‘just so long as there’s plenty of flesh on show.’

  ‘I shall go naked,’ Hermione assured him. ‘Anything less would mean a loss of artistic verisimilitude.’

  Stephanie gave a wry smile, knowing that her sister was simply trying to come to terms with what she had to do, although it seemed curiously out of character, sulky resignation being more typical. She was also wishing she had thought of something similar, but unfortunately the idea of creating a tableau entitled ‘Girl Sucking the Penis of a Lecherous Old Drayman’ made little difference to the reality, and she decided to keep her eyes shut and pretend it was Freddie in her mouth rather than Lias.

  He had made himself comfortable on a moss-covered boulder, still puffing on his pipe as he fiddled with the fastenings of his trousers. Stephanie watched in both fascination and revulsion as he dug within whatever undergarment he was wearing to flop out a now all too familiar set of cock and balls, dark-skinned and hairy, his shaft half stiff, so that the tip of his purple helmet showed where his foreskin had begun to roll back.

  It would be, she told herself as she got down on her knees, the fourth occasion on which she had sucked a man’s penis, and she seemed to be doing it with depressing frequency. She also recalled, as she took the fat, heavy shaft in her hand, that Hermione had offered to do it next time, or at least had been persuaded that it would be her turn. Finally, as she flopped the hideous thing into her mouth and began to suck on it, she accepted that it was really rather nice – not that she intended to admit any such thing to Lias Snell. As she worked on his cock she made sure to keep her eyes tight shut and her face screwed up in feigned revulsion. He took not the slightest notice, and after a moment she realised that he wasn’t even watching her but concentrating on Hermione, who had begun to undress.