Tuition Ch. 02

~~~Bastion~~~

I walked from the library quickly, my mind roiling with thoughts and emotions. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to marshal my thoughts -- and slow my racing heartbeat. Mary stood patiently and silently in position, awaiting instructions. If she thought my behavior or demeanor were out of the ordinary she was too well trained to say anything. Too well disciplined might be a better description. She had been the last 'plaything' of my father -- the 6th Earl. Now there was a man who knew the meaning of 'discipline' I thought, reflecting on the past. I remembered that Mary had been his favourite, eventually moving up the hierarchy of the house to become Housekeeper. It wasn't favouritism that had earned those promotions; she was good at the job. And if anyone had suspected otherwise I could have told them about the down-side of being my father's favourite. He had run his house to 'old fashioned' standards -- mistakes were punished. I'd learnt first hand that Mary could take the cane and tawse and paddle like none I had seen before - or since.

I kept her on after my father died and I inherited the title. Certainly I had fond memories of how she had been given to me by my father on my 16th birthday. An older woman is the dream of many a boy -- but one that came true for me. In her mid-thirties at that time it had been a wonderful introduction to some of the privileges that went with the title of Earl of Shorncliffe. But it was not a sentimental decision to continue her employment. Mary had shown the steel necessary to keep the other, newer, girls in line. She was indispensable.

I glanced at her, noticing the eyes correctly downcast, hands at her sides, waiting on -- there was no other way to put it -- waiting on my pleasure. Mentally I nodded approval at how inculcated she had been by years of training.

"You may attend to the library now Mary. Adam and Wren are still in there -- as are the two new girls. You may care to know that the girls performed...satisfactorily."

To myself I wondered why I had chosen to phrase my words in that particular way. Was it because I did not want to reveal too much to Mary? Not to let her see how much what I had I had just experienced had affected me? Perhaps my thoughts and feelings were too disordered to process and express clearly? The girl had shaken me up in a way I had not expected.

I had become accustomed to the serving girls coming and going, staying in the house a summer, for six months, but not living in my memory more than a few days after they left. Well chosen by Barton they all, with greater and lesser degrees of enthusiasm, had succumbed and become playthings for my guests and myself. But my reaction to Kat had suddenly showed me that, what had seemed like a desirable way to ensure variety, might actually be turning stale and boring.

I realised that I needed to impose some discipline - upon myself for a change -- and make plans. I found myself strangely excited at the prospect, energized by the possibilities the new girl had revealed to me.

Mary nodded, bobbing her head in part curtsey. I started to walk down the corridor, then turned back to her as her hand rested on the handle of the library door, an inspiration occurring to me.

"Mary? That new girl, the Scottish one, not the French tart."

She nodded her understanding of the distinction and waited for my instructions.

"Fit her with the 'virgin's girdle' -- tonight."

Once more she nodded. Then she surprised me by smiling -- and looking directly at me. There was a sparkle in her green eyes and a smile on her generous mouth -- the look of a person recalling a fond memory.

"It has been many years since the girdle was used in this house."

Her comment - and direct gaze - shocked me.

"Mary! I do not pay you for....for such impertinence. You will see Mr. Barton first thing tomorrow morning and request six punishment strokes! Understood?"

Mary's eyes were downcast again. "Yes M'lord I understand." she said, before entering the library. But as she did, it seemed to me that she still smiled. But in the gloom of the corridor I could not be sure. Not sure enough to make an issue of it.

Once in my room I stripped and turned on the shower. My cock was still half hard, even after my exertions. Glancing down I noticed traces of blood on the shaft, witness to the surrender of the Scottish girl's maidenhead. Instantly my cock was fully erect. I turned off the shower and switched the taps to fill a bath. Once I was deep in the water I allowed myself to fall into a reverie, trying to sort out my feelings and deciding how to proceed.

"What a find that girl might be." I whispered to myself.

"Kat" - I couldn't carry on calling her 'the Scottish one' pretending that depersonalizing her made me think differently. I went back over the events of the night in my mind.

She made an impression from first entering the room. The uniform suited her and she suited the uniform. Her exciting curves filling it much better than the French girl. Her pathetic attempts not to reveal too much, in clothes that were designed to reveal everything, were somehow charming. But I had really started to notice her as she served. I could see the trembling running through her, making the dishes on her tray rattle. A practiced eye told me that it was not fear or shame or any other negative emotion causing this - just pure lust; raw, native passion. But it didn't need expertise to see that. Even the unpracticed eye would easily notice the evidence every time she bent over, exposing her wet cunt, glistening in the candlelight -- how ever much she tried to avoid exposing herself.

Then I recalled my amazement as I watched her licking up the wine from the table. Now, thinking back, I almost regretted slapping her - now I knew how 'green' she was. Barton usually employed girls with a bit more experience. (How he found this out in the interview I had never enquired.) But it had been such a thrill to see her reaction! Shock and dismay were clear in her face, fat tears spilling from her lashes -- but there was an excitement in those same eyes, glowing like a banked fire. I literally shivered as I recalled the look on that pretty face -- cheek livid with my handprint.

But all these thrills had been surpassed by her reactions in the library. She had watched me cane Alice and it had obviously excited her; beyond anything she had experienced before. My cock twitched and swelled as I recalled breaching her hymen. She had loved it! I have often had the pleasure -- and sometimes the honour -- of being a girl's 'first'. But none of them had enjoyed it as much as Kat -- and none had enjoyed me taking their virginity as much as her.

Then the delights of her virgin arse! It was all I could do not start stroking my cock as I thought about how she had pushed herself back on me when I had stopped thrusting. Her first cock, first in her arse - and she wanted more! With lovers I am gentle when introducing them to buggery. With the serving girls I don't care. Either way I have not found one who actually liked it -- not the first time at least. Most had, at the very least, learned to accept it -- following a variety of 'inducements'. These varied according to their position and their temperament. For the servants the cane was usually enough. For lovers from my own social strata this would have caused 'talk' -- and I found jewelry worked (almost) as well.

But not Kat. "First time and she loved it." I repeated in my head again. "She's a natural."

I couldn't help but make the comparison with Alice. The French girl was certainly pretty, and sexually skilled - but she was not a 'natural'. Nor was she a virgin, in any sense. Her reactions in the library had shown me that she was not a novice when it came to being to being dominated and punished. Someone had trained her; half trained her anyway -- but not well enough. She'd acquiesced to all we demanded of her -- but only after a hard beating.

In that way she reminded me of a horse I had once bought from a friend -- a French bred mare by coincidence. The horse was as pretty and well proportioned as any I had ever seen. She trotted and cantered like a dream in the paddock, but in the field, during a hunt; it was a different story. To get the best from her required almost constant application of the crop. But even then you always knew that, when it came to the really challenging fences, she would refuse, however hard the beating.

It gave me no pleasure to hunt, to ride, like that. Much better a well-trained mount that responded to a touch of the reins, the slightest pressure from thigh or knee -- or the prick of a spur just occasionally. To get that sort of responsiveness, that innate understanding and responsiveness, I believe you need to be involved in the training from very early on -- and allow no other riders until that level of mastery is established.

This theory shaped my thoughts as I drained the bath and made ready for bed. I made my plans accordingly -- and the excitement created by doing so kept me awake long after I turned off the light.

Day 2 - AM

In the morning I breakfasted with my guests from the previous night, Wren and Adam. The brothers were in fine fettle after last night's fun in the library.

The French windows of the breakfasting room are opened wide onto the South Lawn. Already the day promised to be warm and we talked about how to spend our time. Adam and Wren congratulated me on my choice of new staff but chided me for not sharing "the blonde with the big tits." I smiled and explained that the host must retain some privileges for himself.

"You can use Alice any way you like, as long as you stay. But I have plans for......the blonde." I told them.

Wren had obviously been thinking about how to 'use' the French girl and made some suggestions. I summoned Barton, and asked him to arrange things to Wren's specifications. With that done Wren grinned at Adam and said,

"We should have some real fun with the French slut tonight. It would be even better if you'd let us play with your one as well."

I couldn't help but laugh at his persistence, shaking my head. Wren, Adam and I, being cousins in a close family, had been raised together from childhood. They were literally like brothers to me and I loved them as such -- but they could be every bit as exasperating as any real siblings. Adam, the elder of the two, would inherit my title if I died without an heir. If this subject ever came up he expressed only disgust at the thought. A surfeit of money and an almost total lack of responsibilities allowed both of them to indulge in almost unbridled hedonism. Neither wanted this way off life to be constrained in any way.

This combination of factors freed them to explore any whim or desire -- and all they seemed to wish to explore was sex. Always curious and experimental they had, over a period of time, progressed from adventurous to daring and then quickly on to kinky. By the present day the heights of perversity have long since been scaled and they were now in a dark, uncharted region on the other side of that peak.

With my own unusual interests and passions I had long ago learned not to judge others for theirs, especially not those of my cousins and best friends. But they had left me behind in their desire to 'try everything once, then a second time -- just to be sure.' They now indulged in areas that are of no interest to me whatsoever. But just having them around was a tonic to me and I could always rely on them for something outrageously inventive -- especially when it comes to 'playing' with the staff.

This thought reminded me it was time for the staff inspection. The bell pull summoned Barton quickly to my side.

"Bring the servants in for an inspection Barton." He retreated and shortly after opened the door to admit Mary, Alice and Kat.

Adam and Wren grinned lasciviously at the sight of the two younger girls. Alice responded by blushing and bowing her head. Kat did the same but it was obvious that there was much less artifice in her reaction. Mary, as always, betrayed no emotion.

"Before you begin your duties for the day I wish to inspect you and ensure my instructions have been carried out." I announced -- a little portentously I realized.

"Beginning with you Mary; show me."

Mary stepped forward, eyes downcast demurely and correctly. She turned her back to me and raised her skirt. Slowly the hem crept up over her stocking tops and then her firm arse. I knew her to be at least 50 but she had a body that would be the envy of a teenager. As her buttocks were revealed I saw the lovely parallel stripes left by Barton's cane. My butler is such an artist with a four foot length of rattan that it (almost) made up for his other failings.

"Very good work Barton." I told him and he dipped his head, trying to hide his smirk.

Then I instructed Mary further, "Show the girls as well Mary."

I think I detected a hint of a blush, as she turned round to show her bottom to Alice and Kat. I thought it a salutary lesson for the two younger servants to know that not even their boss was exempt from my disciplinary standards.

Mary held her skirt up until I gestured to her that she could resume her place in the line.

"Alice." I snapped. The French girl stepped forward with a smile on her lips and dropped a flirty curtsey, which stopped just short of being mocking.

Keeping my face utterly expressionless I order, "Show me."

She turned and bent over, raising the skirt of her tiny uniform with one hand, staring back at me over her shoulder. Immediately I could see that Wren's suggestion - and my orders - had been properly carried out. The cousins started whistling and clapping as the bulbous head of the butt-plug was revealed -- nestling between her cheeks.

Without waiting for instructions she straightened and turned, still smiling. "Est mon cul... ....my ass......too fortement for you Monsieur, too tight?" She looks at Wren and Adam. "Did you not, last night, find my derriere tres réceptif?"

She looked back to me. "Do you really think my ass needs étirage...how do you say? Stretching?"

I realized that this strumpet was trying to be coquettish, perhaps believing it came naturally to her - being French. This opinion was misplaced and her impertinence was intolerable.

"When I want to fist your arse you will be glad it has been stretched, you impudent harlot." I told her, voice like a whip crack. I was gratified to see a look of horror and fear replace the smile on her face. Then I almost smiled when I heard Adam whisper to his brother,

"And he says we are the kinky ones?"

"Back in line - and fermez votre bouche." I told the chastened Alice.

I drew a deep breath to still my anger and looked at Kat. In a gentler voice I said, "Your turn now."

I waited to see how she would react. I was aware that much of what happened last night, occurred in the heat of passion. Now in the cold light of day (in a metaphorical sense, rather than a meteorological one) things were different. She stepped forward, and from her awkward gait I could tell that her knees must almost be literally knocking together. She looked at no-one and she turned deliciously pink with embarrassment, not just her face but across her luscious breasts as well. She was shaking so much I wondered for a second if those blushing breasts might wobble from their lacy restraints.

But she didn't hesitate. She raised her short skirt to reveal the 'virgin's girdle'. I suppose that it might crudely be described as a chastity belt, but it was no mediaeval device. Created to my father's specification it was designed to prevent the wearer from stimulating her clitoris, vagina or anus. I had heard of -- and personally experienced -- women who could orgasm from stimulating other parts of their body than these. But for those lucky individuals it was always just a nice addition to the main menu of an orgasm from these 'primary sources', as it were. Even if Kat could make herself cum in these ways I knew it would not be the same. To be deprived of this stimulation when relief is required is, at best, like an entrée without the main course -- the sauce without the substance.

I smiled wickedly as she revealed herself to us, Wren and Adam chuckled. They had seen the effect the girdle could have - on other servants. They were obviously looking forward to seeing what it might do to Kat.

"When you need the bathroom you will need to see Mary for the key, for the lock." I explained - a humiliating but titillating by-product of the girdle's design.

When she heard me say this she risked a glance in my direction. "I need.....I need to.... could I have the key now? Please..........Sir?"

I paused for a second. I considered ordering her to relieve herself, there and then, in front of us all, but decided not to. I had some concern for my grandfather's Afghan rug that she stood on, but it had more to do with a desire not to move too fast with this one.

"Mary will accompany you in a moment." I told her, not explaining that Mary would accompany her every time until I decided that the girdle was to be removed, to ensure she didn't take advantage of the situation.

"You will attend my guests and I at dinner, and.....afterwards. You may go about your duties now." I announced and watched them depart. I had to make a conscious effort to tear my gaze away from Kat's retreating backside before turning to join Adam and Wren in their banter about our plans for the day.

Day 2 - PM

The second evening set the tone for the coming week. As usual we met in the Blue Drawing room for pre-dinner drinks, served by Alice and Kat - both looking disgracefully sexy in their uniforms. Alice, pleased with the attention she was getting from my cousins, seems to have forgotten her objections to the outfit. She flaunted herself outrageously, bending over at every opportunity. Mainly because the boys took these opportunities to slip a hand into the top of her uniform, to tweak a nipple; or up her skirt to finger her receptive cunt. They also delighted in twisting the head of the butt-plug, as if to make sure it remained deep and secure in her arse.

She made mock protestations about their attentions, which seemed to amuse them -- for a while. Wren got most of the attention because he used his walking stick whenever she was close, easily forcing it deeper into the French tart's pussy than he had managed with Kat the night before. But they soon tired of flirting with a sure thing like Alice.

It was Adam who changed the tone when Alice brought him a fresh drink. As she approached he unzipped his fly and took out a half-hard cock. Without a word to her, without a glance in her direction, he took the drink with one hand and forced her to her knees with the other. She opened her mouth in an outrage which was no longer 'mock', to protest at his rudeness. But Adam just took this as an opportunity to shove his length between her lips. When she tried to pull back he grabbed her hair, twisting it tight and rammed his rapidly hardening cock deeper into her throat. It was a good, old-fashioned skull fucking and Alice was quickly choking and gagging. But, as if totally unaware of her distress, Adam continued to chat with his brother and me as he abused her mouth. He put down his champagne when he came, but only to take his cock from between Alice's bruised lips and spray a huge load of sperm across her face, already wet with tears and drool.

Zipping himself he picked up the still cold glass of 1997 Blanc de Noir and downed the remainder with a satisfied gulp. Only then did he deign to glance down at the cowering girl. Then he looked at me, before asking,

"Do you think your slut looks better coated in spunk?".

I grinned at him and nodded.

Without looking at her Adam told the girl.