Given to the Club by Emily Tilton
Chapter 9
Helena
Mr. Miniver’s hands moved downward over the tender skin of my belly.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Oh, please, no.”
“I’ve adjusted the touch control,” I heard Professor Simmons say. “Any member of the club may take down her knickers from henceforth.”
My whole body shuddered, as much at the casual degradation in my guardian’s words as at the touch of Mr. Miniver’s fingers on the spot on the waistband, directly above my virgin cleft. My forehead furrowed so hard it hurt, and I bit my lip in a fruitless attempt to keep from whimpering. A wave of unwelcome arousal shot through me, so strong that my knees wobbled even as I had that awful spasm between my thighs that at the same time felt so terribly bad and so terribly good.
Even my guardian, when he had inspected me in his study, had allowed me to pull down my own drawers.
From henceforth…
I cried out as I felt Mr. Miniver’s touch open the fastening, and the waistband of my underpants loosened, so that he could begin to tug them down over my trembling hips and my gently rounded bottom. The fabric brushed against the soreness of the welts there, and to my horror I understood my erstwhile suitor would see the humiliating signs of what the professor had done to me thus far in recompense of my treason.
“You’ve whipped her already, I see,” Mr. Miniver said in an appreciative tone that drew another sob from me.
“Indeed,” my guardian replied. “She attempted to conceal her crime when I first discovered her at my dataport. I have to admit to having given the girl extra out of sheer frustration with her conduct, but certainly no more than she deserved.”
“Let us see, Professor, there’s the good man,” called Mr. Miniver’s friend—Mr. Bradley, I remembered as I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to pretend I had somehow nothing to do with the awful scene. “Turn her around.”
“And bend her over,” said the other voice, the one who had wanted to see my pussy, “so we can see everything at once.”
Mr. Miniver had not even let my drawers fall fully to the floor yet when this terrible exchange of crude masculine pleasantries occurred, but he did so now. I felt their silken fabric pool around my feet, and I felt the air moving in the morning room of Drake’s, an establishment whose interior a young lady should never even have seen.
It moved over the parts of my body a man should never see unless he had some very special part to play in a girl’s life: doctor, guardian, husband. Each of those roles, and the embarrassment they awoke in a young woman’s breast, belonged to a special place, as well—the physician’s office, the guardian’s study, and the marital bed. She should by rights never have to fear, in Prosperia’s traditional society, exposure to men’s leering eyes otherwise.
But all these men, I realized now, with their lewd talk, had a special role in my life, now. I had gone outside my society’s rules, and my body had been delivered to them for their use and enjoyment.
The abject humiliation of that thought, that whole debasing chain of reasoning, flashed through my mind as I understood that all the men in the morning room, seated in their comfortable chairs, could see my naked body. I tried not to open my eyes, but something in me, fearful and somehow also naughty and rebellious in the same instant, made me open them, for though I did not wish to know I also had to know.
I cried out when I saw my worst idea confirmed: their eyes traveled over me, settling between my thighs to look at the shaven slit there, moving up to regard my little breasts, then up further with satisfied smiles to see my mortification. To my dismay, my hips jerked, and jerked again, because the perverse, wayward wantonness the professor had discovered at my first inspection seemed only to grow the greater, the more masculine gazes beheld my nudity.
Thankfully, my guardian and the doctor had begun to turn me already, so the involuntary movement of my body at this terrible exposure did not shame me even further. I could conceal it in the movement of my legs as I complied, sluggishly, with their urging me about. Some defiance returned to my mind and my heart at this tiny victory.
I felt foolish to think thus, but I grasped at the notion: perhaps I could conceal from these ogres my body’s shameless response to their cruel degradation. They intended to inflict their false justice upon me, and I had no choice it seemed but to receive it. I would not show them, however, how my body betrayed me at the rough touch of their big hands and the lewdness in their roaming eyes.
Even as I found this hope of resistance in my thoughts, however, Mr. Miniver, who stood now in front of me, said, “Shall we bend her over, gentlemen, and gratify Justice Warren?”
Justice Warren. My face blazed with heat. My father counted the chief magistrate of the colonial court among his closest friends. Justice Warren had come to dine at our house soon after I had turned eighteen, and had paid me several compliments.
“Certainly,” the professor replied. “Put your hands upon your knees, you little minx.”
For a moment I did not understand that he had addressed me, because I had become lost in the shame of the news that the man who wished to see me bent over before him knew me as a fine young lady, seated in maidenly modesty and honor at my father’s table. Then I felt his hand upon my left shoulder, and the silent doctor’s upon my right, forcing me over, and I understood the posture they wished me to adopt.
At the thought of it, mingled with the moment of hopeful defiance I had experienced just before and the shame of knowing that a family friend wished to see my pussy and my whipped bottom, I stiffened all my limbs. I refused to be bent, though the tension in my muscles sent another thrill of need through my hips.
“Do you think to defy me, Helena?” my guardian said, his voice cold and haughty. “That is unwise.”
The doctor spoke for the first time since the terrible ordeal had begun. “Place your hand on her shoulder blade, Simmons,” he said in a tone that sounded as clinical and dispassionate as I thought a voice could sound, “and bend her elbow like so.”
I felt him do as he had instructed, and I cried out at how suddenly all my resistance flew away at the skillful touch. The right side of my body seemed nearly to collapse, my back bending despite all my muscles’ efforts. The doctor spoke again, even as my guardian began to imitate the manipulation inflicted by the older man’s medical knowledge, and my left side, too, began to bend.
“That will keep her from any injury, save those we wish to inflict for her own benefit.”
I let out a choking sob as the two men placed my hands upon my knees for me, and I felt how the posture displayed my backside to the room. Another murmur seemed to travel through the assembled men, and Mr. Bradley said in his jocular accent, “Oh, well done, Professor. She won’t be sitting comfortably any time soon, will she?”
I remembered the seat of the autocab we had taken from St. Giles to the club, and how much I had squirmed upon it despite its padding, and I felt my tears flow freely at the thought of the continuing ‘lesson’ provided to me by my guardian’s horrible strap. Instinctively I rounded my back and tried to tuck my bottom inward and down, but I felt Professor Simmons hand upon my spine.
“Push your backside out,” he commanded. “Display yourself, Helena Breverton. I am going to teach you to be ashamed of your misconduct if I have to show your whipped arse and your bare quim to every club in this city.”
I cried out, and I tensed against the pressure; they had bent me, I thought desperately, but they could not break me. The doctor spoke again.
“I believe I can recommend an effective way both to ensure compliance from Miss Breverton and to demonstrate to the audience what sort of young lady has been given into their care. I have a little exercise I like to use with young brides whose husbands find them unsatisfactory on their honeymoons. Mr. Miniver, if you would be so good to take hold of the young lady’s head—firmly but not roughly—and bring her face into contact with the front of your trousers, as if you meant to inform her she must furnish her mouth for your pleasure…”
I had held my eyes shut for the last several minutes, as I tried to keep Mr. Miniver from my sight though he stood so close to me that I could hear the rustle of his woolen suit and smell the pleasant sandalwood scent of his cologne. My eyelids flew open, however, when I felt his hands take hold of my face at either side, rather gently in truth. I saw his upright form before me and the charcoal gray of his trousers.
“And,” the doctor continued, “Professor, we shall make her bend her knees sufficiently that Mr. Miniver may hold the girl’s face just at the level where his no doubt erect membrum virile stands ready.”
The physician’s words, whose full meaning remained unknown to me, sent a loud laugh through the morning room. Somehow in the laughter I heard a tone that made me blush more fiercely than even my forced disrobing had accomplished.
“Miniver, you dog,” Mr. Bradley called, “is it so? Do you confess it?”
Mr. Miniver had followed the doctor’s instructions, stepping forward a little so that my nose and mouth pressed lightly against the scratchy fabric of his lap. I could feel his body move with the laugh with which he responded to his friend’s ribaldry.
“How could matters stand any other way, with this little whore in our power?” my erstwhile suitor said. “Do you deny that your own prick is hard at the sight of the girl’s virgin cunt, Bradley?”
“Come now,” I heard Justice Warren say, his voice sounding a little annoyed, “you young bucks have a good deal to learn yourselves. We’re all hard, of course, at the thought of possessing this girl and watching her receive what she deserves—but we don’t interrupt our fellow gentlemen’s demonstrations. Doctor, please continue.”
The shame that came upon me felt so overwhelming that I again had not only the wish that I might vanish through the floor, but also the strange sensation that I had—or rather that I had somehow floated above myself, to look down at the naked girl held in place by three men, bent over in front of twenty more. On the one hand, it seemed to make me better able to bear the ordeal. On the other, however, I felt immediately how between my thighs this odd detachment had allowed an increase of the warmth that had already seemed to radiate from my sore backside to my exposed private part.
I took a little breath through my nose, and I scented the pleasant, laundered smell of Mr. Miniver’s clothing, and a little more of his manly cologne, and… something else, rich and earthy, faint but powerful and also, some primal instinct told me, wicked. The idea that I had caught the fragrance of what he had underneath his clothing, in the unknown region that a wife must learn to serve, made the heat flow up and down my body, from the blush in my cheeks to a tingling in my whipped bottom.
“Just rub her face in it, for a moment, as it were, Mr. Miniver,” the doctor said. “Let her feel how different nature made you there, from the way nature made her.”