Given to the Club by Emily Tilton
Chapter 19
Gerard
Helena gave a little cry of alarm, and turned her lovely crimson visage forward to face the wall.
Jones did certainly know his work, I observed, while also noting my own exquisitely mingled response to the climactic moment—though to be sure the moment would produce no climax for Helena. As skillfully as the doorkeeper would stimulate her, and as resolute a ride Miniver and Justice Warren would have in her quim and anus before we began to discipline her properly, the device between her thighs would keep her from orgasm.
My cock as hard as a bar of iron, I freed myself from my trousers just as Miniver and Justice Warren had done. Each whimpering cry from Helena seemed to make my hardness throb in my hand as I watched Jones’ fingers inside her sweet cunny, moving in and out remorselessly, causing the girl to thrust back in desperate search of the pleasure the governor denied.
With one hand the immaculately liveried servant held the prettily marked cheeks of Helena’s backside open for us to see exactly what he did, while with the other he trained her for our pleasure. In a steady rhythm his two middle fingers, glistening with the girl’s helpless arousal, glided easily in and out of the lovely vagina I had opened.
At what seemed to me the perfect moment, he anointed his thumb with her cunny’s abundant juices. Firmly he pressed the ball against her adorable, rosy bottom-hole, so that Helena, moving backward at that moment, impaled herself half an inch onto the servant’s thumb. She gave a shameless cry of need, her back arching and her arms going taut, her fists clenching as she strained against the bonds that held her to the whipping post.
Every inward movement of Jones’ fingers now produced a pleading, begging moan from Helena’s throat. Her bottom moved in a lewd, beseeching rhythm to the cadence of the doorkeeper’s masturbation.
Miniver, at my side, said, “If you don’t mind, Professor, I’ll have my fuck now.”
I turned to him, and the varied thoughts and feelings of the moment seemed to rise to a crescendo in my head, my heart, and my manhood. Seeing the desire in the eyes of Helena’s erstwhile suitor—the man I had nearly decided upon as the candidate most worthy of the hand of the girl with whom I had secretly fallen in love—I grasped again the strange providence of the moment.
Helena Breverton had betrayed her world, it seemed to me in that instant, only because her destiny demanded no ordinary life. I loved her deeply, but I knew the girl, even having only just reached womanhood, needed more than a staid life with a professor. Miniver, I could see, had a certain callowness and I frankly did not believe him capable of the sort of affection I felt for Helena—but his manliness and his attractions of face and body would prove extremely useful to her training, just as the very different capacities of Justice Warren would.
In her restless quest for something more, the curiosity that had driven her to find the resistance and to aid Prosperia’s enemies, Helena had shown a free will I planned to treasure. In the focus of that curiosity on the lewd, forbidden knowledge of the device she now wore upon her own clitoris, she had demonstrated the lubricious nature that rendered this degrading ordeal of discipline necessary both for her and for her master.
I would do all in my power to give her what she needed.
* * *
Helena
Jones’ fingers, those awful, probing, pleasuring presences inside my most private places, stopped their movement.
“Certainly you may,” Gerard said to Mr. Miniver. “Jones, you may go. I’ll ring when we need your services.”
I felt my face crumple. I hung my head and saw only the red carpet as the doorkeeper’s hands left my sore backside at last. Your services. I had terribly little doubt what that meant; my guardian had clearly decided that Jones had earned a share of me, a session with me…
A turn. They will take turns, now. The very thought sent another aching thrill through my body, and another humiliating moment of suppression by the governor. My mind cried out against my limbs’ shameful desires: how could I wish the thing I wished—to see Jones’ manhood, to do the servile, lascivious things I had offered to do for him, if Gerard commanded it.
If Gerard commanded it. As he had just commanded that Mr. Miniver should… should have… what had Mr. Miniver said? In what horrid way had he phrased it? “If you don’t mind, Professor, I’ll have my fuck now.”
Had the brutally degrading words truly sounded in the room? A sob burst from my chest as my mind succumbed to the knowledge that they had. Three men stood behind me with their penises jutting from their trousers: the magistrate who had come to dinner at my home and praised my vivacity; the suitor who had wooed me with honeyed words and followed me on my treasonous mission; and the handsome, brilliant, wise guardian I had betrayed.
He… Gerard… my guardian… had fucked me. He had fucked my mouth and my cunt and my bottom. He had made himself my master. To prove that he owned me, he would share me. The others would have their turn—even the doorkeeper.
And I…
I felt a hand on my hip. I closed my eyes and let out a long moan at the way that simple contact, the fingers curving possessively about my waist, made me push out my bottom. The frustration of Jones’ work, the desperate need for release that the governor would not allow, forced me to arch my back, to present myself shamelessly. I supposed the hand on my hip must belong to Mr. Miniver, but with a thrill of shame I realized I didn’t care: Gerard had commanded I should be fucked, and I agreed.
“Miss Breverton,” I heard his usually pleasant voice say softly in my ear. Its mocking tone sent a thrill of shame and need from my face to my feet, so that I found myself extending my backside even further, despite my mind’s desperate wish to show some, any defiance of this careless use of my naked body. “Not so coy with your favors, are you now?”
I gave a little cry of surprise, my brow creasing, at this reference to our brief courtship; how Mr. Jacob Miniver had waited an hour for me to compose a reply to the letter he had sent up. I understood then that he had grown suspicious for precisely that reason—with good reason, for I had in fact been engaged in transcribing one of my father’s documents so that I could leave it at the dead drop for Wasp to find. He had followed me that day, I now understood, doubtless unhappy with the one-line response, Miss Breverton apologizes, but she is not at liberty to see Mr. Miniver this afternoon.
It pressed against my aching pussy, then, even as my body shuddered at the humiliating memory: the firm, soft head of his rigid manhood. I felt the woolen fabric of his suit as the front of his muscular legs came up against the naked backs of mine, as he prepared to thrust his cock into my body, the ultimate revenge for my negligence and my treason.
“Beg for it, you little whore,” Mr. Miniver murmured. He teased me with his penis, moving it up and down along the pout of my pussy lips, probing gently with it at my clitoris, where over and over I felt the tingling and then the suppression of the governor.
“I…” I sobbed. “Please…”
“Do we yet know,” I heard Justice Warren ask my guardian, “whether this naughty young lady has any other contacts in that ridiculous resistance organization, besides the one apprehended today?”
“Please… Mr. Miniver…” I said again, my mind in a whirl, my inner vision divided between this shameful scene and the picture of a man’s face, seen for an instant but terribly memorable thanks to the scar across his cheek.
“We do not,” Gerard replied.
The hardness against my pussy had continued to move, tormenting me, as the little exchange between the magistrate and my guardian had taken place. Now Mr. Miniver thrust it into my slit just a little ways, no more than an inch, so that I raised my head with a soft, happy cry, and once again tried to press back, to get more of the cock inside me.
But my former suitor stopped the movement, both his hands moving to my waist to immobilize me, to hold me by the belt that girded me there.
“Do you have something to tell us, Helena?” he asked sternly.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Please, sir. Please.”
Mr. Miniver thrust his cock into my vagina with a single, deep motion, using the belt as traction, so hard and fast that I cried out. My body bucked helplessly against his restraining hands as he began to fuck me very hard and very fast. I heard the controller beep, I felt the governor suppress my pleasure, but still I wanted it, wanted the rigid shaft to enjoy me in hope of some taste of the ecstasy my pussy needed.
Suddenly the pounding cock stopped, though, with only the tip inside me. I trembled as Mr. Miniver once again held me in place.
Now it was my guardian who spoke.
“Helena, my dear, answer Mr. Miniver if you please. Have you something to tell us?”
“N-no,” I stammered, my voice half a moan and half a sob. “Please… Jacob…”
“Don’t forget yourself, girl,” Mr. Miniver said. “You are not to address me that way any longer. Perhaps a hard ride in your bottom will help you recall.”
“Oh, heavens,” I whispered, my eyes tightly shut.
“Yes, Miniver,” suggested Justice Warren. “Take her anally, and I shall do the same. We needn’t rush to have her answer, really; there will be time as we punish her in earnest to offer the necessary incentives.”
“I approve,” Gerard said. “My dear, I’ll turn your quim up to three for your bottom-fucking, to give you an idea of the benefits of compliance. Miniver, let me know when she’s yielded that arsehole, will you? I shouldn’t wonder if she tells us everything she knows just to have me raise her governor to four while you’re in her bottom.”
I understood then, to my horror, that the image in my mind, of the man with the scar who had taken the papers from Wasp, when I had lingered too long in the street with the dead drop, represented a secret I must keep. As I felt Mr. Miniver withdraw fully from my vagina and move the head of his manhood to the tiny ring my guardian had rendered open for my master’s pleasure, a terrible sense of dismay and confusion took hold of me, and I sobbed pitifully.
I had thought I need only suffer and endure, and now I must worry about a further betrayal of those I had wished to help, even as my wanton body betrayed me, and to my mortification I found I wished to have the penis in my bottom—if only Gerard would reward me with a little more pleasure.
Nevertheless, at the same moment my mind seized upon this realization that I did have information—information that would doubtless be of value to my tormentors. They had stripped the clothing from my body, inspected me nude before all the gentlemen of the club, and brought me to a shameful climax in the morning room. My guardian had already claimed every part of my anatomy as his cock’s possession. But locked within my mind I had the means of a defiance that their penises and their paddles would not, I vowed to myself, ever touch.
I cried out at the pressure of the hardness against my littlest hole. I felt Mr. Miniver’s hands spreading my punished cheeks, exposing the tiny ring there just as Jones had done. I felt the head of his cock demand of me the humiliating service Gerard had taught me to give.
“Let me into this little arse, Helena Breverton,” my former suitor growled. “Your guardian will reward you when you show me you can be a good girl.”
“Or,” Gerard said, from further behind me, “we can whip you until you’re ready for the cock there.”