Notebooks of the Young Wife Read Online Free Page B

sooner are they uttered than the double Doors are flung wide and Sir Montague himself is among us. He greets me with formal gravity and hands to the Footmen a Parcel wrapped in greased Paper. My Curiosity is great but he chides me gently with a wagging Finger.
    ‘Patience, my dear. Once you have seen the Action and Effect of these Items you may inspect them at your Leisure.’ Bending over the Hindquarters we have rendered at his disposal he is moved to express satisfaction at their Size and undoubted Resilience, all to the Confusion of their owner. He chucks Martha’s Chin and promises that the splendid Nether Cheeks will soon blush as brightly as the ones on her Face. ‘And then,’ he announces to the company, ‘it will become clear that the Whip may prick into Venery not only those who inflict the Lashes or suffer them, but those too who are mere Spectators of the Event.’ At that point he directs at me a Look of such Lechery that it is my turn to colour, being left in no doubt of his Intention once Martha is dispatched.
    Now, though, it is time for the little Play to begin, and he sets himself down amongst the Cushions of an Arm-Chair as befits a Peer of the Realm. We humbler Mortals, the Wife and her Maid, stand forward for a closer View and a little to one side in order not to obscure his. The Footmen have taken up their Positions to left and right of the bench’d Figure, each holding in Readiness his Taws. Fine things, we think, seeming to consist of a long Slab of Leather cut into Tongues, and our judgment is confirmed when the first three Strokes are deliver’d. Crack! Crack! Crack! they sound, reverberating from the Walls of the room and almost at once the Imprint appears vivid across the whole Breadth of the Orb. The second Man replies in like Fashion, and the two-pronged Attack is then reprised. One Dozen delivered, and at each the Recipient squeals and wriggles, diverting us with the most lewd Gaping of what we cannot, in Conscience, continue to term her private Parts.
    They repeat the whole, then on Instruction from the Chair finish in rapid alternation. We close in around the Tether’d Form, and while Nabby wipes away the Tears with a Handkerchief I put a Hand to the radiant heat of the Whipt Globes, marvelling at how the once snowy spread has been turned a flaming Scarlet. And below, there is what could be Sweat from the force of her Writhings, but I venture to believe it Juice of a different kind.
    For the Footmen’s part, their tight-breech’d Condition makes it plain they are thus affected and on the Nod the first moves to unbutton. The Length he draws out stands Proud by its own Means and he eases into place between the open Legs, bending a little at the Knees and pressing forward. Leaning over, I part the Hot Cheeks to observe without impediment the Shaft’s entry into the fleshy Purse, while beside me Nabby cranes her Neck to follow the Course of the Action.
    It is no drawn-out Affair of much thrusting, for a Conclusion is upon us almost at once. Martha gives voice, crying Oh! Oh! Oh! and the man pulls out, pressing to the Bum a Head that under his manipulation spouts Copious Milk into the Crack. Now comes the turn of the Second, whose Member swells impatiently in the owner’s hand. Without more ado he brings it forward, and knowing its destination, I open again the Channel between the Mounds where there winks at us a Hole as yet unbroacht. Careless of his Fellow’s Spending that bedews the Entrance, with a single Push he spreads wide the Ring and then works his way by Degrees until the whole Truncheon is gone within. From the Maid there issues a moaning so low it seems to be forced out of the very Depths to which she is Penetrated, and I am transfixed.
    A Tug at my Sleeve brings me back. It seems the State of the Master induced by what he has seen requires urgent Attention without the cover of Privacy. My Abigail has bared the relevant Area and a Purple-Headed Beast rises to greet me. It is