Avoiding the Missionary Position

Diane pointed to one of the chaise lounges, set back further than the others, one side almost touching the wall. Propped up against the raised end of the couch was a cane with a handle, such a cane as school masters used to enforce discipline. Madeline's stomach smoldered like a banked fire with tension and she wished she was anywhere else -- anywhere else except on the deck of a ship leaving England.

"Now, ladies, I would have the three of you kneel down on this chaise lounge, all facing the wall. But first of all I should tell you that there are several chamber pots behind that screen. Perhaps this would be a good time to use one. Then pray kneel down on the chaise lounge as soon afterwards as maybe, for we must be ready on time. And straight backs, please."

Having had great need of the pot and the relief of using it, Madeline afterwards knelt down on the couch between Edith and Yvonne, her knees sinking into the rose petal decorations on the chaise lounge's cushions. As she settled her weight back over her heels she was acutely aware of how the strips of her gown hung and clung around her posterior, probably revealing as much of her flesh as they concealed. 'Oh, Edward, how shall I bear this shame?' she asked herself in despair.

"Hands down by your sides, ladies. Straight backs, say nothing, no laughing and remember that if you dare to look back without leave it'll be the worse for you. You're on parade now, like the sentries outside Buckingham Palace. Very well, ladies, it's time to open the door for his Lordship."

Nothing could be heard of Diane's bare feet moving on the oak floorboards but there was a faint rustle from her dress material as she moved, the gossamer light strips brushing the air as lightly as falling leaves. Madeline was astonished to be able to hear them even though her heart was thumping away in her chest like the drum of a German band. Then there was silence -- until they all heard a male voice and Diane answering it.

Madeline couldn't hear exactly what words were exchanged. What she did hear with a shock of stunned astonishment was another boy's voice overlapping the first one: then yet another one, talking and laughing. Unless her ears were totally deceiving her there were at least three boys entering the room. Madeline also heard Edith's half choked whisper: "He's bought some of his school friends with him. It's going to be all hands to the pumps, girls."

Edith giggled uncontrollably for a second or so before succeeding in quenching her laughter.

"I think there's another one as well," Yvonne whispered back. "Listen!"

Madeline had been distracted by the other wives' surreptitious exchange, yet as she concentrated on the sounds of the approaching conversation she came to believe that Yvonne was correct. Diane's contribution to the mingled voices was clear, the intertwined male voices difficult to distinguish between, but certainly three males and perhaps four of them approaching the couch. Madeline imagined what their eyes must be seeing as they came closer to the semi-naked women kneeling in servile patience for their masters' arrival.

"Oh, God!" the clergyman's wife whispered in her dry throat, praying desperately for the strength to get through this completely unexpected and terrifying addition to her coming ordeal.

Bad enough to be forced to offer up her honor and marital virtue to Lord Horace; it had never once occurred to her that other boys might also be present to watch whatever obscene humiliations were to be practiced on her. Madeline knew she was about to become the stuff of which martyrs were made from: what she couldn't understand was how it was possible for Edith to be giggling again and almost half choking herself in a desperate effort to stifle the sounds. How could it be that a woman facing such a terrible fate would want to laugh? Madeline had no explanation for such behavior except perhaps the gin that Edith had drunk. Yet she was sure that she could have drained the flask on her own and still felt no desire to laugh.

Madeline glanced to her right side, towards Yvonne, hoping to see an example of shared Christian fortitude as a support for her own weakness. Yvonne had her eyes closed, her head thrown back, and a look of anticipation on her face something like that of a child waiting to open the Christmas presents on Boxing day. Far from appearing like a Christian waiting for the lions to be let loose into the Coliseum, Yvonne seemed much more nearly to resemble a lioness herself, a lioness crouched and tensed to spring.

"No need to pray, Madeline," Edith whispered. "There's plenty for everybody." Incredibly, she still sounded as if she was struggling against an inclination to giggle.

Madeline had no idea of what Edith could possibly find amusing in their situation and wondered if the girl had already been driven mad by their circumstances. Perhaps it was more merciful if she had been. Behind them the voices had ceased, to be replaced by the pad of heavier feet on the floor until Diane spoke in a bold voice, as bold as if this was her home and she was the Duchess herself.

"Lord Horace, gentlemen, these are the ladies of the estate who have been delighted to accept your offer of hospitality."

"For which I thank them." The voice was young, drawling, a mixture of confidence and conceit. "Ladies, indulge our whims by staying in your present positions a while longer. Diane, pray tell me whom we have here?"

Diane answered briskly: "On the left is Edith. Married for two and a half years and a mother of one child. A well broken in young filly who should give a good gallop for any rider once she's been properly warmed up. I think you should all know that Edith took very little persuading to join us today. I suspect the pleasures of the marriage bed are beginning to bore her somewhat. If any of you young gentlemen wish to form consortiums to advance Edith's education in shared pleasures, I'm sure she'll prove an attentive pupil for your advanced classes."

A ripple of laughter came from behind the chaise lounge.

"On the right, allow me to introduce Yvonne. Married for only six months and, I'm sure, has known no man except her lawfully wedded husband. It took me some time to convince her that it was in his best interests that she should be with us today. One look at her shape is enough to tell any of you that the effort to get her here was well worth it. I invite you all to peruse those well shaped crescents underneath the strips of her gown. Is there one of you who wouldn't delight in becoming the man in that moon?"

That brought out another chorus of male laughter and sounds of approval.

"The thing about Yvonne is that she needs to have her modesty shorn from her by some lucky lads. But not until the ladies have had their own instruments of pleasure well tuned up. No doubt you will oblige them in doing so."

To Madeline the noise from the pack of boys marked the advancing edge of an onrushing tide of evil. She felt her limbs freeze in terror as they hooted with laughter at each of Diane's jocular comments. The woman seemed determined to let loose upon her victims every unbridled lust that the group of hotblooded youths could devise. And if Diane had known in advance about Horace's friends being present why had she not told Madeline? The answer was obvious: if Madeline had known in advance that such an ungodly orgy was being planned, nothing, no argument or pressure of any kind, would have induced her to leave the Vicarage and come here. It was beyond anything in her experience to conceive of how a church going woman like Diane could now be revealing a soul as filthy and twisted as Messalina's.

"Finally, gentleman, and Lord Horace in particular, we have the delightful Madeline in the middle. I have to confess that the half of this matter was not revealed to Madeline when I made the arrangements for her to come here. She thought she was going to have to oblige his Lordship only -- she's now listening and learning that there's going to be considerably more work than that involved. As you can see the prospect is causing her to blush somewhat -- or perhaps it's the thought of how you're all looking so closely at that plump little bottom of hers. What she doesn't know yet is how soon she'll be waggling it around in the air like a feeding duck for all of you to admire."

This time the laughter was unendurable: Madeline gritted her teeth and tried to pretend she was a million miles away.

"As you can also see she's built for comfort, not speed, with lots of curves positively crying out to be caressed. Which is what they badly need, for Madeline is the wife of the local Vicar, a clergyman who's far more clergy than man, if I'm any judge. But, no matter, I warned her that she had to do good works either here or abroad and between us I'm sure we can teach her much today. At least she's already had plenty of practice in kneeling down and offering up thanks for a bountiful harvest."

Madeline couldn't understand what was humorous about that remark, although the youths clearly thought it to be so. Everything which was happening or being talked about was so strange, so inexplicable, that she might as well be in a foreign country. Which was only be expected; the life led by a Lord and his aristocratic friends was as far above Madeline's level of society as hers was from a farm worker's wife. Even so, she still hated being used a butt for Diane's sharp humor and the boys' laughter.

"Thank you for introducing us to your friends, Diane," the same languid voice said. That must be Lord Horace himself. "Can I also say that you look as attractive as ever, you minx. Gentleman, as a mark of approval for her efforts, why don't you gather around Mrs Masefield and give her a show of hands?"

The kneeling girls all heard Diane's voice become a parody of outraged modesty: "No, no! Unhand me, sir! Would you treat a poor defenseless female so, you villains! Oh, who did that? You rogues!"

Madeline was consumed with curiosity about what was happening behind her, yet the memory of the waiting cane at the end of the couch restrained her from turning her head. There was movement, she could sense that, and excitement as well, as tangible as the electrical flux in the air before summer lightning. Whatever was happening to Diane, Madeline was sure it was only the first flurry of a gathering storm of unbridled lust.

"I think that's enough for now, gentlemen." The same voice they'd already heard spoke again. Lord Horace was giving fresh orders. "Time to make the acquaintance of the other gals, I think."

Still desperate to seek some shred of reassurance, Madeline looked to her left again, towards Edith. The other woman had turned her eyes in Madeline's direction in the same instant: both of the wives shared a fleeting moment of shared consciousness. As before, Madeline expected to see in Edith the same fear and confusion as was welling up inside her own mind, and, as before, she failed. Edith's eyes were alight with excitement, her mouth was curved in a broad smile, and between the scarlet lips her breath blew out in gusts as if driven from a blacksmith's bellows.

How could this be? Didn't Edith share Madeline's shock at Diane's betrayal of them? Instead of having to endure the foul attentions of a single boy the three of them had been delivered into servitude like the ancient Israelites, not only to serve Pharaoh but his nation too. Who knew what wickedness might be inflicted upon helpless females by these arrogant sprigs of the nobility? How could Edith seem to be pleased at the grim prospects closing in on them so relentlessly? The confused thoughts inside Madeline's head spun around wildly, a garishly colored kaleidoscope of scarcely imagined images she could not believe were possible.

"Gentleman, stroke your mounts."

What?

Yvonne gasped and moved, her arm brushing against Madeline's. What was happening to her? The question was answered as a hand fell on the thin strips of Madeline's own dress, caressing without shame that very part of her anatomy which Madeline had already been so mortified to have displayed to the boys without a decent covering. She began to tremble almost uncontrollably as another hand began the same work as the first. Each of them, as if by agreement, had claimed one half of her posterior as its own territory to explore without let or hindrance.

Madeline found herself whimpering with shock and disbelief. Somehow, she found herself holding hands with Yvonne and Edith. It was as though they were standing on the edge of a cliff and needed to share their emotions by touching each other before they were tumbled into the abyss together.

The hands were now re-arranging Madeline's robe, separating out the silken strips to drape around the outside of her legs, so that her bottom was completely exposed to the vulgar eyes of the watching boys. She felt her own eyes widen as fingertips lightly ran along the bared contours, down, down along the backs of her thighs and then up again.

Madeline wondered wildly what the boy who was taking such liberties with her looked like. And what must be the expression on Diane's face as she watched these loathsome iniquities being practiced on her friends, the friends she had betrayed? It was as if they had all been flown by magic carpet across the Bosphorous, to a Sultan's Palace beyond the reach of Christian civilization, a place where respectable English women could be treated as if they were mere playthings delivered up from the harem for the sole purpose of pleasuring men. Perhaps that was the only way to cope with this insane situation, to think of it as happening in some far off time and place.

"My God!"

If the caresses already lavished on her quivering body had been grossly impudent, yet they were as nothing compared to where the intruding fingers were now moving, creeping between her opened legs and over the fabric of the chaise lounge cushion. A sharp nail traced the hand's passage around her thigh until she knew that the upturned finger tips were almost brushing that place where she was most a woman and a wife. Then they boldly struck up to complete their hideous trespass to the full. Like conquistadors discovering a secret valley the fingers entered it and began searching for hidden treasures, a slow and careful but absolutely relentless search.

Madeline knew the blood was rushing to her face; she also felt the pressure she was exerting on Edith and Yvonne's hands being returned. "My Lord, my Lord," Edith gabbled and each of the women knew they were all sharing the same experience, the experience of having their most private places fondled like kitten's ears. Madeline wondered wildly if the boy doing this to her was gently rubbing her swelling bud by chance or design -- did he really know why she was gasping so loudly?

Oh God, she was becoming a wanton Jezebel at the touch of a male she hadn't even set eyes on yet, some malevolent school boy who was tightening up her body like a violin string as he thoroughly molested her maidenhood.

"All change, please, gentlemen." Diana's voice was tinged with humor, as if she was smiling. "One place to the left, I think."

The hand underneath Madeline withdrew. There was movement behind the chaise lounge. She didn't want to believe it was happening but she was certain that the boy who'd been touching her was now behind Yvonne, ready to do to her what he'd been doing to Madeline. Which also meant that the boy who had been drawing grunts and pants from Edith was now about to touch her. It was true, the three of them were being treated as nothing but slave girls, slave girls to be openly examined and handled like animals in market pens.

Madeline shifted her eyes to the left and right again. Again she noticed the excitement evident in Edith and Yvonne's faces. She also saw that both of Yvonne's large bosoms had somehow slipped through the restraints of her gown so they could be clearly seen, including her nipples. Brown, tight, jutting nipples which betrayed her heightened feelings just as much as the way she swayed her hips before even being touched again. Madeline would have thought it a shameful display if only she hadn't discovered that both of her own points had also poked free from the surrounding ribbons. Out into the open, on display and betraying her bodily excitement to anyone in the room who cared to look over her shoulders

"Ah!" Edith gave a gasp, a giggle, and a wriggle of her hips.

"Oh! Yvonne's hand grasped Madeline's even harder as she rose up on her knees and then sank slowly down, the tip of her tongue running over her lips.

Another set of busy fingers crept in underneath Madeline, causing her to make the same animalistic sounds in unison with her companions in this enforced carnal sin.

Enforced? Madeline abruptly realized that nobody was forcing her to spread her knees further apart, nobody was demanding that she rub herself against the fingers penetrating her. And, certainly, nobody could have commanded her to have a fire burning fiercely inside her in a place where before there had only ever been warm ashes. These were all her own sins, these were her own faults, that she was finding the shameless lusts of the flesh far more interesting than the good book had ever intimated. Words from one of Edward's favorite sermons came rushing into her mind written in letters of fire: "I have come to the brink of utter ruin in the midst of the whole assembly.'

For the very first time in her life Madelaine Swan-Smith had cause to wonder if she was perhaps a shameless harlot at heart. How else could she be sighing in satisfaction because of the vulgar attentions of some disgusting boys? Though if it were gross impropriety to behave so, then Edith and Yvonne were just as guilty of it as Madeline was. All three of them were whining in excitement, all three of them were moving their bodies as if astride slowly cantering horses. Then Edith let go of Madeline's hand and leaned forward until the upper part of her body was resting on her forearms and her bottom was held up high for the boys in open submission.

"Yes, come on, fuck me."

Madeline wondered what Edith was asking for. She herself had sometimes heard that word coming out of the tap room of the inn on a summer's night when the windows were open as she walked past: 'fuck'. Madeline had assumed it was another of those oaths impossible to use in polite society, another word like 'bloody'. But Edith seemed to be using the word in a different way. Madeline asked herself in astonishment if it could mean that Edith was actually inviting one of the boys to commit the worst sin of all with her.

"Yes, yes!"

Yvonne was calling out as well, another hunted animal at bay on her hands and knees and surrendering herself to the pack's mercy.

"Well now," a boy's upper class tones came from directly behind Madeline. "That only leaves the tart from the Vicarage. Let's see if we can get her ready for mounting."

Madeline half turned her head in an instinctive reaction towards the voice, then stopped at a warning cry from Diane and looked towards the wall again. She wished the oak panels were polished enough for her to see the face of the one who had just spoken, the one who was playing the devil's own tricks
with her womanly parts. Unable to contain her desires any longer, Madeline sprawled forward in the same position of prostrate capitulation as Edith and Yvonne, displaying herself naked and aroused like a bitch in heat, with the boys' laughter sounding in her ears as she surrendered her last shred of decency.

Worse yet, Diana was also laughing at the sight of the Vicar's lady sprawled out in the lewdest possible display for everybody in the room to see. Madeline wondered how she could ever live a normal life again, ever attend another village church service without her guilty secret being obvious to all who saw her. To stand with Diane, sharing a hymnbook with her in the pew . . . no, it was impossible, God would strike them down at the Church steps as wayward wives full of sin.