“Hold him so, for he knows now well enough who his true Mistress is, Jennifer,” my stepmother said and turned and opened a drawer. That she had anticipated every contingency and made all ready was apparent to me when she drew out a large broad dog collar and a chain affixed thereto, the sight of which I was well accustomed to.
“Lift your head,” she instructed him solemnly and he did so, meekly allowing her to fasten it about his neck, the chain clinking and hanging limp beside the bed. At that, Jennifer gave a little start but her eyes remained steadfast. That she was putting herself on her own mettle, so to speak, I had no doubt. The thrumming of his big erection in her palm must moreover have been exceedingly pleasant.
“Wh… wh… what is to happen?” he asked then, and thus are the mighty fallen, for to my considerable pleasure his words appeared to be addressed to Jennifer and thus he paid first homage to her.
“You are to be exercised,” Stepmama told him coldly and held then the chain taut while I untied his bonds, casting a warning glance at Jennifer not to relax her firm, tight grip. Her knuckles whitened a little. Evidently she was enjoying squeezing him. With his trousers, socks and boots removed, he neither kicked nor strove to raise his arms, but ever kept his eyes on his daughter-in-law’s as though pleading with her silently. That he should have done so was the best of chances for it increased her will, I am sure, and taught her more than many words could have done.
“Bring him downstairs,” was then said curtly to me and with that my stepmother swept out and descended the stairs with firm and meaningful tread. At that, Jennifer’s eyes appeared to become a little haunted, but I-moving around the bed and behind her-took up the chain and said to him as briefly, “Come!” then added, “Continue to hold his prick, Jennifer, for he has been wicked and well knows it. He must be quelled.”
Thus did the bizarre procession occur, Jennifer leading the way and stepping down most lightly while keeping purchase on his cock. I, following at the rear, held the chain taut and kept his head up. Being led into the drawing room, he saw then my stepmother waiting imperiously there, her arms folded.
“On your knees! On all fours like a dog!” she spat to him. The chain clinked once more as I loosened it. Jennifer hurriedly released her grip. Down he sank and looked like a great hound, I straddling his back, the chain drawn tight again. The posture, being instinctive and not consciously intended, amused my stepmama who murmured, “Very well-let him be ridden.”
I had exercised the males at home thus. While she took the chain from my hand and held it-and he groaning in anticipation of the as yet unknown-I raised my skirt to — my hips and, being knickerless, brought my cunny to rub along his spine where I had ruffled up his shirt. The chain being then put back to my hand, I gritted, “Move!”
Ah, how he groaned and how Jennifer stared! Heavy as I was upon his back he was forced to grind his knees forward little by little, I reaching behind with my free hand and frequently slapping his bared buttocks while he was forced to circle round the room. Coming back to where we had started and my stepmother clapping her hands lightly, Jennifer was then told to mount him in turn-“For you will do it often at your whim,” she was told.
He panted, hung his head and waited humbly, cock still erect as ever we had made it and his balls dangling heavily. My stepmother, giving Jennifer’s bottom a little smack, urged her skirt up out of sight of him and put her on him. His back all but creaked! Jennifer’s cheeks were rosy red and yet excited. A little kick from my shoe impelled him forward yet again, his progress this time being even slower. In truth, Jennifer’s feet sometimes touched the floor and so both lightened his burden and urged him forward. Her eyes were bright, her back upright. Upon her rising from him at last, he arched his aching back in humble supplication.
“Madam! May I…?” he croaked, raising his head wearily, though cautiously not attempting to rise.
“You address ME, sir? Address yourself only to your Mistress!” snapped my stepmother.
“I know not what to say to her,” he groaned whereat to our supreme pleasure Jennifer strode in front of him and stood with legs astride.
“You may speak,” she said quietly.
“Have I… have I your forgiveness?” he asked, his eyes upon her legs.
“Are you obedient?” she asked curtly in a tone that owed much to my stepmother.
“Yes.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“And will continue so to be?”
“Yes! I swear! Even to my dying day. Were you to ask me to lick your shoes…”
“I may or I may not.” Her voice was skittish and yet stern, so finely threaded that he would not know what to make of it. Her nostrils pinching with high emotion, she tossed her head and gazed at my stepmother as though proudly.
“He may be put to you, then, but must withdraw before he comes. I will present him to you, my dear. Clara will bring him to you. Should he fail, he will be whipped.”
The words came from my stepmother, softly though bleakly. In a sense perhaps it was a command to Jennifer to obey her also. The young woman’s lips trembled a little yet her face remained haughty as though she would oppose us, too. Then, upon a gentle touch of her arm, she was guided to a sofa over the high rolled arm of which she was bent, no doubt to her surprise, but she wilted not. I, veiling this from Mr de Vere Lacey’s view by stepping before him, waited until Jennifer’s skirt was drawn up high about her hips.
Her bottom showed but the faintest of marks by then. Her furred mouth pouted to my view beneath her lustrous hemispheres. At a whisper from my stepmother, she slurred her feet apart. Her legs straightened. From a rear viewpoint all that was to be seen were her shapely legs-her ruffled garters tight about her thighs-the cleft globe poised above, and a hunching of her shoulders down into the seat.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The act that was to ensue was one of salutation to the female, as Jennifer was to learn. That there is apparent submission in the female cannot be doubted, and yet she holds the reins. In forbidding the male to loose his sperm, she encloses him in the most intimate and tightest manner, and then rejects him, though he may be held long throbbing in her orifice and thus pays homage to her nether charms.
With caution and due ceremony, I brought Horace to rise by tugging on his chain, acting-as it pleased me sometimes to do-as handmaiden to the event, and then to his undoubted dismay led him to a corner of the room and there to wait. Silent as he was, he licked his lips, breathed heavily, his penis straining mightily up his belly. Seeing my stepmother whisper to Jennifer again, I turned him to the wall. Turning my head, I watched her hand glossing all around Jennifer’s high-thrust bottom and dipping occasionally to brush her slit. The young woman’s hips stirred, though not uneasily. When fretful of occasion, my sister had been treated thus and her orifice oiled. That warm unguent was no more soothing, as I knew, than my stepmother’s voice when she was minded it to be. It lured, it comforted, it coaxed, and spoke of pleasures almost beyond one’s ken. That Jennifer did not murmur nor attempt to raise her head was to her uttermost credit, for many are the young women who wilt at the idea of the intrusion of the prick between their cheeks.
One becomes accustomed to it, in my experience, after the first rodding there. It pleasured me as much as it did in my cunny, and on occasion more if I were feeling lewd or, as my stepmama would say, “indulgent,” for I felt the sperm shoot in more strongly there and loved to feel the balls of the cowed males slapping under me.