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I suggest reading part one of this story, if you want it to make sense. A late Georgian set-piece; with male submission to a variety of people in a variety of different ways. Don’t read it if this offends you.
The next day, Mother began making arrangements for the wedding. A dressmaker was hired to come up from London and stay. My sister had a plain white dress for Sundays which could be altered a little for a wedding. We would need a new hat and gloves to match for both Mother and I.
Mother and I spent the morning writing out two dozen letters of invitation to family members and friends, inviting them to join us at Spitalfields. I doubted that more than half would attend, but we had to invite them, of course. Mr. Graves would arrange for the banns to be posted in London.
That day and the next were quite pleasing and relaxing. When the dressmaker arrived from London however, I had to spend almost an entire day being measured, and putting the same dress on and off with a variety of different pinning strategies to alter the fit.
I did wonder about the wisdom of fitting the dress to me, but Mother insisted that we had to have something done; and that with my corset I really was a similar size to my sister. She said that it could be quickly fitted to my sister when she returned, or else the ‘wretched girl’ would just have to suffer!
I relaxed a lot for the next week, and truly enjoyed maintaining the facade that I was Evelyn. I walked in the garden, rode the grounds (side-saddle, of course), painted flowers in watercolour, and read poetry in the evenings. Even my needlepoint began to improve!
In the nights, I would regularly pleasure myself; arousing myself by taking the cucumber into my mouth, and thinking of my wanton actions with Mr. Graves. I had to replace the cucumber after a few days, of course; and acquired a couple of sturdy carrots. One was large and blunt, for my mouth. The second, thin and sharp, I began to insert into my rectum on a regular basis. I found the sensation of being penetrated in this way thrilling.
I remembered talk on board ship during my years away on expedition, and the rumours that some of the crew-members were catamites – male prostitutes. Now I had seen the woodcuts in the ‘Kama Sutra’, I could see how such a thing was possible. I even pictured myself receiving such treatment; bending over for my darkly handsome husband, Mr. Graves… Truly, I was becoming a depraved thing! It was not right for any man to think so – much less to do it! To take a stiff, swollen cock inside oneself…
And yet I could not deny the allure of my dark dreams, and of remembering taking ‘my’ husband-to be into my mouth. The feel of his stiff shaft between my lips… It excited me.
The days passed until the day it was arranged that Mr. Graves would join us for dinner. All day I was as excited as I had ever been, and I prepared early. I washed thoroughly in my room, and shaved my face, arms and legs. I had never been one to need to shave much; and even after more than a week, there was little hair to remove. I put on my make-up carefully, having practised a lot with mother. My aim was to look beautiful and feminine, yet hopefully not obviously too made-up. My eyebrows were already beautifully arched, and I had but to pluck out a couple of longer hairs to complete my grooming.
Powder-blue undergarments trimmed in lace and a thin cotton chemise went on, followed by my corset. I was only able to tighten it partway, as the cords went behind my back. Whilst waiting for Mother, who was coming to help me dress, I put on pure white silk stockings, which attached to my corset through garters. The underwear felt soft and feminine against my skin, whilst the bones of the corset held me snug in a firm but comforting way.
After fitting my long wig, I took to my sewing as I waited for Mother, embroidering a pretty pin-cushion with a beautiful tulip, streaked in purple and white. It wasn’t as good as Mother’s work, of course, but better than anything I had seen my sister create.
“That’s very nice, Evelyn” said Mother warmly.
I jumped slightly, having not heard her come in.
“Goodness, Mother!” I cried. “You startled me!”
“I am sorry, dear. You were quite engrossed in your work it seems. Now, shall we tighten you up?”
“Yes Mother” I said, standing. I turned so she could tighten the straps of my corset. She pulled them tightly, such that it became quite difficult to breathe fully. When I complained, she chided me.
“For shame, Evelyn! I have let you loose too much this past week, I think. You look far more pleasing to the eye when you are well drawn in, and should be willing to make sacrifices for the sake of appearances. Think of me, spinning webs of deceit about you; or your uncle Silas, haring around the country after your half-wit sister. All you are asked to do is sit and look pretty – is that too much to ask?”
“No Mother,” I said, wilting.
“Hmmmph!” she snorted, pulling one more time Maltepe Escort till I gasped. Finally satisfied, she tied off the straps at my back.
“That’s better,” she said. After slipping a white underskirt on me, she spoke again. “Now, this is a dress of your sister’s which hasn’t fitted her for a while; but you are more slender than her now – let us try it on.”
I smiled as she lifted a beautiful deep purple dress, pleased she had noticed that I had slimmed down slightly. I lifted my hands and slid into the heavy dress, which slid down to rest on my hips. Mother tied up the ribbons at the back, whilst I adjusted the sleeves and the neckline. I admired myself in the mirror. I looked so pretty! This dress sat lower on my neck, which was very graceful and smooth, having been carefully shaved and powdered. I had never had a noticeable Adam’s apple, fortunately.
“Here, Evelyn. This is for you to wear today” said Mother, holding out her hands. She held a beautiful platinum pendant in the shape of a bird, supported below three thin torcs that she slipped carefully about my neck. It had been my grandmothers, and before that had been in the family for over a century. I blushed with pride as Mother adjusted it in the hollow of my décolletage.
“Beautiful.” she said with pride.
I glowed happily, loving the sight of the pretty girl I had become.
“I have received a letter from Silas,” she said with a slight smile. “He has found word of your foolish sister, working at an inn. He will retrieve her this very day, and in a couple of days they will be on the coach coming south.”
I calculated quickly. “So that would give them… Three days before the wedding, Mother.”
“Exactly. A little less time than I had hoped, but time enough to prepare your sister’s dress, and teach her what she needs to know.”
—
Within an hour or so, our guests had arrived. Mr. Graves; as darkly handsome as ever. Mr. Evans, his older business partner, grey-haired but solid and vital. Mr. Coombs, the vicar of Spitalfields; and his wife Bianca. It was a small gathering; most unusual to me as I had to remain so demure and uninvolved – I was used to being able to voice my opinion, speak of science and politics and so forth; but Evelyn was expected to sit quiet and listen. Jenny and Maryanne busied themselves serving food, and filling glasses, and I noticed every man’s eyes lingering on my pretty Jenny’s curves at least once.
My soft-spoken impression of my sister seemed to fool everyone, at least over dinner. After we had finished, Mr. Evans suggested that I sing for everyone. Fortunately, Mother thought fast, and quickly explained that I had strained my voice singing in church. The others professed sympathy, and the conversation quickly moved on.
After dinner, Mrs. Coombs and Mother and I withdrew to the drawing room to drink port, and talk of weddings and of marriage. Once again, Mother took care to answer for me often, lest my ignorance of such feminine topics give me away. I probably drank a little more port than was truly advisable, and found myself a bit giddy.
I looked up when the door to the sitting room slid open, and Mr. Graves came through boldly. He held a slim package in his hands.
“I wonder if I might beg a private audience with my fiancée?” he asked politely.
Mother nodded. “Of course, Mr. Graves. Evelyn, won’t you take Mr. Graves through to your late father’s study?”
I stood up. “Of course Mother” I said, bobbing a quick curtsey to Mrs. Coombs before lighting a taper and leading Mr. Graves from the room. We walked a little way down the corridor, and into my father’s study; a snug room lined with books. It was once warm, with an ever-roaring fire, but this had not been lit for several years. I had pictured myself sitting there often on my voyage to and from the New World, and had hoped to make the room my own when I returned. How my plans had changed!
Behind him, Mr. Graves closed the door completely, and pulled the heavy velvet curtain across. He turned towards me in the dim light of the candles I had lit from my taper, their flickering light casting across his heavy brows almost sinisterly.
“Evelyn.” he said in a deep voice.
“Sir.” I replied meekly. My mind was awhirl with images, remembering how he had used me last time we met, and how I had debased myself since then thinking of it.
“I have a gift for you, Evelyn” he said, holding out his paper package. I thanked him as I took it, and undid the strings holding it together. Within was a slim volume; a book bound in leather. I trembled slightly as I opened it. Several strips of paper were held within at various points, clearly marking pages of importance.
“It is an edited version of the full manual of sexual pleasures” rumbled Mr. Graves. “It is focused on the ways in which a woman can please her man.
I bit my lip, my cheeks burning as I blushed with shame.
“I have marked some of the pages, which cover those activities Kartal Escort I deem most important, Evelyn.” he said. “I wish you to prepare yourself that we might partake in them all on our wedding night.”
I opened the first page, revealing the title and author. It seems that this book was based only loosely on the original, and rather than being translated, it had been appended by the patroness of a London bawdy house and her staff.
The first marked page, unsurprisingly, showed a woman taking a man’s shaft in her mouth.
“Read to me what it says” ordered Mr. Graves.
“Ah, it, er – the title is a new word to me, Sir – Fellatio?”
He nodded impatiently and I read on.
“This being the act of taking a man’s shaft into one’s mouth, and stimulating it to ‘orgasm’. The act can be performed entirely with the mouth; or the hands may be used to stimulate the partner in a variety of ways. It is desirable for the giver of pleasure to take in and swallow all of the spermatic juices, which are inoffensive and nutritious. It is not possible to become pregnant through any amount of fellatio, which is a major advantage to this pleasurable act.”
I looked up at. Mr. Graves.
“Read on – learn, girl.”
“Some of the secrets of the successful courtesan follow” I began, coming to a list.
“Lick his plums and shaft all over to get them ready”
“Try and get right down deep to the base. If you can’t, practise with a carrot or candle till you can.”
“Play with his balls. Give them a good squeeze – see if he likes it.”
“Plenty of spit is the key.”
“Don’t forget your hands. Rub his shaft and tickle his plums.
“The head will swell even more when he is close to spilling his seed. If it tastes bitter, feed him a spoonful of honey morning and night to sweeten it.”
“Suck on his plums.”
I blushed, stumbling over the simple, yet graphic sentences. I heard cloth rustling, but did not dare look.
“Put your f… Put your – your finger up his arse. They like that.”
“Tickle the eye at the top with your tongue.”
“Suck gently and stroke his shaft for awhile, then go hard and fast. When he gets close, slow down again.”
Mr. Graves took one of my hands, guiding it to the thick, fleshy shaft liberated from his tight trousers. It jerked slightly as I took it in hand and began to stroke the loose skin up and down.
I was breathing heavily now, as much as my corset allowed, but read on.
“Let it out once in a while, and pleasure the shaft.”
“If you want something from him, this is the time to ask.”
“Don’t forget to breathe steady. Use your nose, or breathe around the shaft if you can.”
The thick shaft of Mr. Graves’ cock throbbed in my hand. He placed a hand on my shoulder and pressed gently down. I slid to my knees obediently.
Mr. Graves took the book from me, and I looked ahead at his staff, which throbbed in my hand. Pink and veiny; the plum at the top swollen and purple.
“Pleasure me, Evelyn.” he ordered me.
I couldn’t believe how eager I was to do as he ordered. I had been thinking about this so much. Why? Just the sensual pleasure of feeling my mouth filled with warm, moist flesh. The feelings of surrender, wantonness, of helplessness.
My mouth opened wide as I fed his cock between my lips. My nose filled with the smell of him, the musky aroma of his groin filling my senses completely. The soft skin against my tongue made me quiver with delight, and I melted with delight as my mouth was filled to overflowing with his firm male flesh.
Slowly, I began to slide my mouth up and down his thick shaft, my head bobbing up and down gently. He moaned softly, and surge of pride rushed through me.
Why did it make me so happy to hear that? I submitted willingly to him, whilst deep within my skirts my own cock throbbed stiffly, imprisoned in my pretty blue underwear.
“Oh Evelyn…” he groaned.
I pumped at his shaft, sucking greedily at the half lying within my warm mouth. His hips bucked back and forth slightly, gently thrusting further in and out of my mouth.
I closed my eyes, thinking of the sensual pleasures I was giving and receiving, and the wickedness of submitting so, in secret, to another man. His thick shaft slid smoothly between my widely-stretched lips, filling my mouth with the sensual, musky taste of him. I let him slide out most of the way, holding just the ripe plum of his glans remain between inside, and licked around it within my mouth. He groaned with pleasure, pushing his hips forward.
For a minute, I brought his shaft completely from my mouth, kissing it and licking it. On my knees in submission, it felt like I was worshipping his manly erection, and truly I felt it was only right to do so; so large was his cock compared to my own. Thinking of the remarks I had read briefly in the book, I reached around behind him with my left hand, grasping at his firm buttocks; pulling them towards me as I Kurtköy Escort fed the thick cock back between my hungry lips.
Now, I took the shaft as deep as I could, pressing past my soft palate and fighting the urge to gag. I succeeded in pushing at least two-thirds of his organ into my mouth, my lips nearly brushing his smooth-fronted trousers. I bobbed my head back and forth, bringing fresh moans from the eager man standing dominantly over me. Soon, I felt the plum of his cock-staff swell within my mouth, and worked it back into the main part of my mouth, so I might taste the fruits of my labours.
Sure enough, a few moments later, his cock erupted, a jetting stream of thick come; musky and rich, tasting unique and manly in my mouth. It was too much to take in a single swallow, and a dribble escaped my lips, running down to my chin as I swallowed hungrily, milking the excited shaft for every drop.
I held his shaft in my mouth till it was drained, and beginning to droop before letting it slide cleanly from my lips; gleaming from being licked clean by my willing tongue. Finally, I ran a finger along my chin, bringing the last morsel of sperm to my lips, and licking it clean.
Mr. Graves fastened his trousers closed, and finally lifted me to my feet. He smiled at me almost tenderly, but did not speak as he led me out of the study.
I waited in the corridor to catch my breath, whilst Mr. Graves rejoined the men. I stayed there a couple of minutes before I had a most unexpected surprise. Behind me, the door to my father’s study slowly opened, and Penny emerged carrying an empty wine glass, her lips stained slightly pink. She had seen everything! We stood there staring at each other for a moment; her bosom heaving as my lips trembled. After several heartbeats, we turned as one; I rejoining the ladies whilst Penny took to the servants’ corridor towards the kitchen.
Soon, we were saying our goodnights. Mr. Graves and his friends were staying in the guest rooms before heading back to London in the morning, giving us eight days until the wedding. My sister would be married, and I would go back to my pedestrian life as Edward. I was no longer sure though, that I could be fully happy with my life as it had been. Something would need to change, but little did I suspect how things would truly transpire…
—
I slept uneasily that night. Penny had surely watched everything; every moment of my humiliating submission. It was little comfort that she thought I was my sister. I wondered what I should do – should I say nothing? Or should I approach her? And if so, what should I say? Should I tell Mother? That at least was an easy decision – I wasn’t going to tell my mother any such thing!
I awoke early, and after Mother’s usual help with my corsets, dressed for breakfast. Maryanne was serving dishes, and I wondered what Penny was doing. Not much later, I saw that the housekeeper had her cleaning floors, and I was not able to talk with her at all. The rest of the day, I made attempts to speak with Penny, but she was never alone. We did work our few servants hard!
In the end, I decided that talking to Penny could wait – she might tell of what she had seen, but I hoped not. After a cold dinner, I took wine up to my room, to read by the fire.
I curled up in my favourite chair with not one but two books. The first was a large book of poetry; and concealed beneath it, the book Mr. Graves had given me. I opened at the first page, which was a brief explanation of its contents, and tuned on. On the next page was a picture of a naked man. His male parts were highlighted in a second picture and labeled with their Latin names on one side, many with a ‘common’ name or two below. It was quite surprising how many common names there were listed here. A man’s shaft might be referred to as his ‘Bishop’s Staff’, Cock’, ‘Lance’, ‘John Thomas’, ‘Johnson’, ‘Manhood’, ‘Member’, ‘Pork sword’, ‘Trouser Snake’, ‘Truncheon’ or his ‘Willy’. His testicles had near as many names, mostly after types of fruit.
The third page was a similar design, this time a careful drawing of a nude woman, as well as an expanded picture of her female parts. Again, both were labeled with Latin and ‘common’ name or two below. The list of names for the female parts included ‘Cunny’, ‘Cunt’, ‘Fanny’, ‘Flower’, ‘Purse’ and ‘Pussy’. I decided that my favourite word was cunny, followed by pussy. They just sounded cleaner and more elegant. A woman’s breasts might be referred to as ‘Boobies’, ‘Bubbies’, ‘Knockers’, ‘Tits’ or any of a dozen more terms.
The fourth page spoke of sperm, and of a woman’s monthly cycle; and the times she was most (and least) fertile. It was interesting; albeit quite dry reading.
Finally, on the fifth page was a well-rendered sketch of love-making. A man and a woman, both nude. The woman was seated astride the man’s lap, and he had bent his neck to take her breasts in his mouth. The page was headed ‘Foreplay’.
I didn’t read, but flicked on; the next page showing the same couple reclining; his hand between her spread legs, and hers on his Johnson.
On the next page, the picture showed a woman on her back with a man laying upon her; his cock protruding into her cunny. It was entitled ‘The Missionary Position’.
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