Given to the Club by Emily Tilton
Chapter 18
Helena
“It wouldn’t have been so much, Professor,” I heard the doorkeeper’s voice say. “Only Miss Breverton… well, she offered herself to me as I was fastening her to the post.”
“Oh, did she?” Gerard’s voice was amused. “How explicit was the little whore?”
“Explicit enough, I’m afraid,” Jones replied. “I believe miss said she wished to do those things to make me feel good.”
I turned, my cheeks blazing, to look at my guardian, the man who had taught me to do those things only an hour before, in the chamber of pleasure. I don’t know if I meant to deny that my words had carried the slightest explicitness in them, or to accuse him of hypocrisy for wishing me punished for the immodest offer I had made to the doorkeeper. The look in Gerard’s eyes brought even more heat to my face.
A new expression upon his narrow, dark gaze told me of a purpose that made my whole body tremble: I could see there that he meant to convince me of an awful truth. The terrible discipline he bestowed upon my body, and the punishment given me by those to whom he delegated the task, would befall me whether just or unjust. These men would whip me because they enjoyed whipping me almost as much as they enjoyed fucking me.
“I told her,” Jones said in a stern voice that made me look over at him, my heart beating wildly, “to face forward, sir.”
I saw to my horror that the doorkeeper accompanied his words with a step forward, and then another. I saw that he had already raised his arm, the two-tailed strap in his hand. Then, before I could even think to turn away in late obedience, I watched his arm come down as my body tried instinctively to move away.
Much too late, for Jones, with what seemed a very well practiced skill, turned his body as he came on, and he grabbed me around the waist so that he could hold my backside completely steady. Swiftly he pulled me away from the post two or three feet so that my arms stretched uncomfortably and my rear end presented itself more fully and more vulnerably. At the very same time, as I cried out in fear, he brought the strap down across my bottom-cheeks, and then without pausing at all he repeated the lash twice more as I wailed in agony.
My bottom, aflame with pain, surged against the doorkeeper’s restraining arm. I could see now only the back of Jones’ livery coat, so I whirled my face instinctively over my other shoulder, tears filling my eyes as I gave Gerard a beseeching look.
He still had the terribly hard expression in his eyes. Gazing back coldly at me, he said, “You’re a clever girl, Helena. I’m sure you will remember soon enough to face forward when you’re being punished. Jones, you may carry on.”
“No, please,” I wailed, still looking into my guardian’s eyes, spellbound even in that awful moment by the ambiguity in his face: the two unshakable ideas that he cared very deeply for me and that he meant to provide me with the harshest possible discipline, if that’s what was required to make a better girl of me, alongside the other element of his expression—the element that made my heart jump in fear even as I could feel the horrid governor work between my thighs. Gerard’s intention to use my naked body for his pleasure exactly as he pleased, because he found that naked body so desirable.
The strap came down again, its flexible tails curling to embrace the halves of my bottom with fiery pain and the sharp crack of the stroke sounding off the red walls of the chamber of discipline. With a final sob, I turned away, closing my eyes.
“There, miss,” Jones said, giving me another terrible stroke so that I cried out pitifully. “That’s it.”
“You certainly will serve Jones, my dear, and show how you’ve learned to make a cock feel good,” I heard Gerard say behind me. I hung my head, my body still struggling feebly and instinctively against the doorkeeper’s grasp, as he continued to whip me while my guardian spoke. “But first things first. Ah, Justice Warren. Mr. Miniver, welcome. You can see the little whore has already earned some additional punishment, even before we interrogate her. That’s enough, I think, Jones.”
I felt, alongside the fiery pain in my backside, the strangest sensation. It had a great deal to do, I believe, with what I had felt while Gerard had taken my virginity in the chamber of pleasure: the detachment from my body that allowed me to experience for the first time the acme of pleasure upon his rigid manhood. Now a similar floating feeling seemed to deliver me from the agony of the doorkeeper’s strap, though the terrible burning it imparted remained. I went limp under his arm even as he ceased to whip me, and I gave myself to the sensation of his strength and the degradation of knowing that three gentlemen had witnessed my humiliating punishment—that they all looked with keen interest at my whipped bottom.
“As you say, Professor,” Jones said. “Do you wish me to display the quim and the anus?”
“Indeed yes,” I heard Mr. Miniver’s voice say, “since you have her in that lovely position already. Let’s see where Professor Simmons had his fun.”
I sobbed, but it seemed I had yielded control of my limbs to these men; Jones’ big hand pressed between my thighs, urging my knees apart. Then I moaned as to my dismay I felt his fingers spreading me open, showing my most private places to my guardian and the men with whom he had decided to share my training.
“Is the bottom very tight?” asked Justice Warren. “It certainly looks that way.”
“Very,” my guardian confirmed. “We’ll start to change that this afternoon of course.”
“You have a lovely pink cunt, Miss Breverton,” said Mr. Miniver, his voice very cold. “I would have enjoyed breaking you in more gently than I’m sure your guardian did, had I been your bridegroom.”
“Would you like a ride now, Miniver?” Gerard asked, as if he were asking whether Mr. Miniver wished to read the newspaper after Gerard had finished with it. “You mustn’t be gentle, though. The girl needs it rough.”
“I don’t mind if I do,” the man who had once sought my hand in marriage said. I let out a choked moan. “Shall you turn her governor up for me? Jones, if you would, put a finger in her cunt to see whether she’s wet after her whipping.”
The sound in my chest, in my throat, built shamefully as I felt the servant’s fingertip press into me. I would have sworn the instant before that I would never give these ogres the mortifying satisfaction of finding me aroused. But at the touch of the rough digit, I felt my clitoris tingle, as if the terrible soreness in my bottom from the strap had awakened my pussy even further. I felt the device at work, and worst of all I heard the beeping in Gerard’s pocket. My moan became a sob.
“She’s very wet indeed, sir,” Jones confirmed in a tone that suggested the sort of approval one might express for a filly who has just cleared a fence.
“And that’s with her quim set to two,” my guardian said dryly. “On the contrary, Miniver, I think I’ll turn her down to one for her first acquaintance with another man’s penis.” Then, worst of all, he spoke to me. “My dear, I wish you to think about how much nicer this fuck would be for you if you were a good girl, and I allowed your quim to feel more pleasure in it. Perhaps someday you will look forward to being shared with other men.”
I turned my face over my shoulder again, because I felt the inescapable need to see the expression in my guardian’s eyes that went along with these words, so degrading that, together with the presence of the doorkeeper’s probing fingers in my pussy, they made me feel faint. I knew somehow that what I would see in Gerard’s face would complicate my thoughts and feelings terribly, but I needed that complication above all things.
His eyes gazed straight back into mine and I saw what I had thought I would, and it made my heart leap despite the shame of seeing him with the controller in his hand—and of seeing Mr. Miniver beside him just opening his fly to reveal his long, thick cock, the manhood I had kissed through his trousers in the morning room, now revealed before my eyes. On my guardian’s other side, Justice Warren had also begun to undo the front of his suit, but my attention remained fixed on Gerard’s face. What his expression said to me, the lesson it taught me, held me spellbound.
Instead of a careless disregard for what I felt about his having consigned my pussy to Mr. Miniver for a rough ride on another man’s hardness, I saw in that expression that Gerard cared very deeply indeed about his humiliating words’ and actions’ effect on me. The same hunger I had seen in my guardian’s handsome, dark-bearded face when he had prepared to deflower me in the chamber of pleasure confronted me now, and the same keen interest in making me understand what it meant to serve a man’s lust. But the narrowness of Gerard’s eyes and a slight contraction of his brow seemed to tell me so much more.
I bit my lip to see it, that knowing look, for it made so very clear that my guardian realized how wanton a girl he had in his power. I could deny it, and I would deny it… how the sight of Mr. Miniver’s rigid manhood and of Justice Warren just pulling his own out from his fly to pump it in his hand made my pussy ache and made the horrid governor beep. I could not, I thought, ever willingly tell him that being shared with other men made my heart jump with involuntary arousal as much as with fear.
To my mingled joy and dismay, though, I saw in Gerard’s face that he knew. I saw that in giving me to Mr. Miniver for fucking he meant to train me not only to his pleasure, but to mine as well. I even saw, with a realization that made me bite my lip very hard, that he loved me.
The little silver controller beeped again in his hand, as I watched his thumb move on its surface. I let out a sob at the further muting of the pleasure between my thighs brought by Jones’ thick finger inside the sheath Gerard had opened on his cock.
“Shall I work her cunny for you, sir, before you fuck?” the doorkeeper asked, the hopeful tone in his voice bringing a terrible heat both to my face and down where he already did work me. “You’ll probably be wanting the anus stretched a bit too, I should think.”
I held Gerard’s eyes still; he had not told me to face forward yet, as if he felt as entranced as I did by the contact of our gazes. I tried to beam a plea to him, across the intervening space, that at least I should be spared the degradation of what the servant had proposed, but I saw that my desperation had the opposite effect to the one I had intended—at least consciously, for the hard look in Gerard’s eyes seemed to say that he knew how deeply in reality my body cried out for Jones’ shameful ministrations.
“By all means,” he said. “Since she apparently cannot be persuaded by any other means to keep her face oriented properly, a few minutes of your fingers in her bottom may help, Jones. That’s alright with you, Miniver, I imagine?”
“Certainly,” Mr. Miniver replied, pumping his hardness in his hand. “Jones is so good at it that I’ll rejoice to watch and learn.”