One Week in the Private House (7 page)

Jem returned to her task. The front of Darren's shorts, supported by his burgeoning pole, had become pulled away from his groin. Kneeling as tall as she could, Jem peered down into the gap between flesh and nylon and saw, in the darkness, the thick set of the youth's penis emerging from a mass of blond hairs. So much for the expensive make-up job, she thought, and pushed her face in to the chink. Her left cheek pressed against the hard smoothness of the concave stomach; her right cheek was abraded by the waistband of the shorts. Her nostrils were assailed by the mingled odours of talcum powder and male sex. She pushed on, using twists and turns of her head to widen the gap between groin and shorts, until her lips made contact with the pulsating rigidity of Darren's prick. Then, almost lifting the youth from his feet as she stretched the waistband to its limit, she jerked her head away from his body until the shorts were clear of the end of his imprisoned member. The elastic waistband snapped back around the tops of his thighs, capturing his testicles in its firm embrace. With commendable restraint, Darren merely uttered a low groan of pain; his unfettered penis, apparently unaffected by this assault, stood proudly to attention only a few inches from Jem's face.

'Bravo!' Miss Morelli commented, a little ironically. 'Well done, Jem. Now what?'

The next bit's easy, Jem said to herself; I've had more than enough practice with Rudi during the last few weeks. And, regardless of previous instructions, she raised her hands to yank down Darren's shorts and clasp his tight buttocks. With deliberate care she pulled his thick truncheon inch by inch into her mouth, simultaneously insinuating a finger into the crinkled orifice of his bottom.

Who's a big boy, then, she thought, as Darren's prick touched the back of her throat before her lips had encountered even a stray hair of his pubic bush. And who's got an easy-access arsehole, too? I wonder who's been up there on a regular basis? Terence Headman? Or is the Morelli woman a dildo freak?

She pulled away from him until only the velvet plum was in her mouth and only the tip of her finger was encircled by his anus; she lapped with her tongue at the underside of his helmet, and vibrated her fingertip. She felt his body jerk, and realised that he wouldn't be able to stand that sort of treatment for long, so she pulled him deeply into her mouth again, even more slowly than before, and pushed two fingers into his arse.

He's going to come soon, Jem thought; I wonder what Miss Morelli would consider a suitable finale? I can fix my make-up, but I really don't want spunk in my hair. Then she noticed the odour of Miss Morelli's heavy perfume, and glanced to one side to find that the long-limbed woman was kneeling next to her.

'Very good indeed, Jem,' Miss Morelli said in a conspiratorial whisper. 'He seems to be enjoying this. Please carry on; I don't think he's quite ready for his climax. He has very sensitive testicles, but as you seem to have your hands and mouth rather full, I'll deal with this tyalls. You just keep sucking, my dear.'

Leaving two fingers firmly in Darren's arse, Jim slid her lips to the end of his pole and gently licked and kissed the little slit at the tip. In this way she was able to watch Miss Morelli's hand close around the youth's bulging, wrinkled sac, and appreciate the sudden muscular spasm that accompanied his desperate groan.

'He loves this,' Miss Morelli said, in a voice that suggested command rather than mere comment; she started to flick her fingers against the bottom of his scrotum, almost as if she were chucking a baby's chin. Jem wriggled her fingers inside the youth's anal passage, and circled his helmet with her tongue while she watched the increasingly violent movements of Miss Morelli's fingers, which were now slapping upwards with regular sharp smacks that made Darren's balls bounce all over the place, eliciting loud cries of distress. 'Now,' Miss Morelli shouted, 'now, Jem, suck him off!'

Jem closed her lips around the shaft, pressed the helmet against the roof of her mouth, gave flickering licks to the flanged edge of the plum, and then sucked. Darren gave a long, ragged wail, and during it Jem realised that her fingers were pushing in and out of his arse at exactly the same rate and with much the same enthusiasm as Miss Morelli's fingers were smacking against his balls. And then a flood of semen burst into her throat, and then another, and another, so close together that she had difficulty swallowing them. She began to pull away, but Darren pre-empted her. With a cry that was almost a sob, he turned and fled from the room.

Jem was left on her knees, swallowing to dilute the salty taste of semen that filled her mouth. Beside her, Miss Morelli was kneeling too, with one hand still between her wide-spread thighs.

'Oh dear,' Miss Morelli said, turning to look at Jem with bright eyes, 'Darren is such a naughty boy. I'll have to punish him for running away like that.'

'I expect he'll enjoy it,' Jem said.

'Oh yes, I'm sure he will. And so will I. I've certainly enjoyed your performance. Look.' Miss Morelli lifted her hand and, surprisingly coyly, moved her legs together. Jem saw that her fingers were wet from tip to palm; she inhaled the strong smell of female secretions. Tm very pleased with you, Jem. I only wish I could keep you here. But I'm sure Mr Headman will ask to see you. I'll give you a glowing report. Now then: would you like to suck my fingers clean?

Jem licked her lips. 'Yes, Miss Morelli.'

'There's a good little girl. Do you like the taste?'

Jem wasn't crazy about being called a little girl, but her nipples were taut against the lace of her bra, her mouth was full of the mingled tastes of male and female sex, and she could feel the creased gusset of her tiny knickers sticking wetly to her vulva. She tried to say, 'Yes, Miss Morelli,' but she found that she didn't want to release the woman's fingers from her lips.

But the fingers were snatched away as Miss Morelli stood up. Jem found herself transfixed by the sight of two long legs, encased in black lace and perched on golden, high-heeled sandals. She was aware of Miss Morelli's naked sex only inches away from her face. 'Oh dear,' Miss Morelli said in a soft voice that made Jem's insides lurch. She looked up.

'What adorably big eyes you have,' Miss Morelli continued. 'But looking innocent won't help you. Talking with your mouth full is terribly uncouth. You'll have to be punished, I suppose.' She leant forward and stroked Jem's cheek. 'You'd like me to smack you, wouldn't you, dear?'

Jem swallowed. She pictured Miss Morelli's manicured fingers slapping Darren's testicles. 'Yes, Miss Morelli,' she said, and she wasn't sure whether she was saying the words because she wanted to meet Headman or because she wanted the sensation of those fingers slapping against the sticky heat between her legs.

'Stand up, then. Off with your knickers. Turn round. Legs apart. Lean forward.' There was a long pause, and then Jem felt a fingertip sliding along the curve of her right buttock. 'Very good,' Miss Morelli whispered. 'Oh, yes. Very good. Mr Headman will be delighted to see you, I'm sure. What a pity that I can give you only a
soupcon,
as it were, of what's to come. Never mind. I'm sure we'll both enjoy this.' Miss Morelli settled herself on the
chaise longue
and placed a small cushion on her crossed legs. 'Come and lie across my knees.'

Feeling a little numb, as if she were a spectator rather than a participant, Jem turned. 'Should I take off my stockings?' was all she could think of to say.

'No, don't bother with that. In any case, Mr Headman insists that in these circumstances stockings are more decorative. And they define the target area. No, no, you silly girl. The other side. I'm not left-handed.'

This can't be happening, Jem thought as she climbed awkwardly on to the couch. I must look really stupid. I'm just draping myself over this stuck-up bitch's lap and I'm going to let her spank me.

She closed her eyes. She could feel the texture of the tapestry upholstery against her elbows, her knees and, by moving forward slightly, her nipples. Her stomach was pressed against the velvet cushion. Her left thigh was touching Miss Morelli's skin, and was brushed by Miss Morelli's black lace top. She had been in this position before, of course, when playing games with boyfriends. But this was different: this was with a stranger, and a stranger who was a woman, too. This was about power, not sex. And yet in a strange way that made it all much sexier.

'Legs apart, girl.' Miss Morelli's hand suddenly slapped the back of Jem's left thigh. 'Let's have a good display.'

Jem found herself inching her knees across the upholstery. She knew that she was revealing her most intimate parts, but she couldn't help herself. Miss Morelli's fingernails stroked up and down the widening cleft between
Jem
's buttocks, and circled her anus. Jem could feel her labia separating, and she knew that Miss Morelli couldn't fail to notice the shiny wetness that she could tell was almost dripping from her vulva. She wanted Miss Morelli to touch her there. She wanted Miss Morelli to smack her there. She wanted the pain, and she wanted an orgasm with it.

In a moment of clarity, Jem realised that she was on the brink of discovering something new and important about her sexuality. Something that, from the sound of him, Terence Headman would find very much to his taste. And something that could endanger her mission: if she was to succeed, she would have to remain distanced from Headman's sexual games. In that moment she vowed to suppress the newly discovered thrill of offering her body for punishment. If she could fool Headman into thinking she liked this sort of thing, she could twist him round her little finger. But if he were to find out she really liked it, she'd never be able to escape from him.

So, Jem promised herself, no more fun from spanking. At least, not after this time.

She arched her back downward, pushing her breasts into the tapestry and lifting her hips up from the cushion on Miss Morelli's thighs. She felt her bottom and her sex opening like a flower. 'Yes, Miss Morelli,' she said firmly.

Miss Morelli moved her left arm under Jem's raised stomach and placed her hand at the top of Jem's right thigh. Without further ado she started spanking Jem's bottom with hard, regular smacks that resounded loudly in the still room.

Miss Morelli was quick and methodical. She spanked in threes: three sharp smacks to the left buttock, three sharp smacks to the right buttock, and then a short pause during which the fingers of her left hand would stroke the line of Jem's sex-lips, or gently probe the area where Jem's clitoris Was vibrating with the qeed for release. And then more spanking, two sets of three smacks, concentrating on a slightly different area of Jem's buttocks. And then more touching. And so it went on.

Jem surrendered to the sensations, pushing her bottom up to meet Miss Morelli's stinging right hand and then writhing her hips helplessly as Miss Morelli's other hand teased her nearer and nearer to the edge of ecstasy. Each sharp slap, the sound ringing across the room, was a reminder of her submissive position, and also stoked the burning sensation that was spreading from her buttocks to inflame her vulva, her clitoris, and deep inside her loins.

Occasionally, resting between smacks, Miss Morelli would make an offhand remark such as 'Yes, the whole of your bottom is nicely red now,' or 'My goodness, you are sopping wet inside here, aren't you?' And Jem would momentarily surface from her maelstrom of sensations and picture herself from Miss Morelli's viewpoint: her buttocks glowing and blotched with a red flush, jiggling with each smack, her sex gaping and wet and demanding to be touched. And then another series of smacks would descend, and Jem would buck and writhe and be overwhelmed by warm waves of pleasure.

At last, Miss Morelli stopped. Jem, breathing deeply, kept her thighs wide apart and her bottom pushed up. She wanted more. She wanted to come. Her clitoris was throbbing relentlessly. She wanted to touch it herself, but she knew she must not, without permission.

Miss Morelli's hand was on her bottom again, stroking the burning skin. 'I could go with this all day,' she said, 'but I've got better things to do. I have to punish Darren, remember. Mustn't exhaust myself on you.'

Jem moaned, and dipped her back even further.

'Yes, dear,' Miss Morelli said, 'you've got a lovely arse. And you're excessively wet down here, aren't you? Would you like me to smack you here? She placed her long fingers along Jem's lips; her middle finger nudged Jem's clitoris. 'While I play with this little button, perhaps?'

'Yes. Yes please, Miss Morelli.'

'No chance, sweetheart.' Miss Morelli pushed Jem off her lap and stood up. 'You'll have to finish the job yourself. I think you'll do very well for Mr Headman. Don't call us. We'll let you know. But I should cancel all your appointments from this afternoon onwards.' One of her gold, patent-leather sandals landed an insulting kick between Jem's buttocks, and she walked away.

Jem rolled over and gasped as her bottom rasped against the carpet. She didn't care who might be watching: she pressed her hands between her thighs and in a few seconds brought herself to a shuddering climax.

Well, I guess I'm in, she told herself. Headman's got to agree to see me after that experience. And what a weird experience! Kind of fun, definitely. But from now on, I've got to keep my mind on the job.

It had not taken long for Julia to re-adjust.

The chauffeur had started whipping her as soon as she had positioned herself, like a suspect waiting to be frisked, against the side of the car. Her legs were wide apart and her shins were touching the running board of the old limousine. Her elbows were resting on the roof of the cabin, and she had leant forward to lay her head on her crossed hands. The black paintwork radiated heat. The position of Julia's body was provocative: she had adopted it almost out of habit. She had found herself remembering the customs of the Private House. She knew that when one found oneself naked from the waist down in the presence of another person with a riding crop, one did one's best to please the other person. It came naturally.