Assholes and Our Souls

Lady Druscilla would come and stay at Stanley Hall sometimes. She had never married, and was now in her forties, so the prospect of marriage seemed increasingly unlikely. This did not seem to trouble her, she said she was quite satisfied with her life how it was. She was fond of life's luxuries, and as a result of overindulgence in food, particularly pastries, and the sedentary pace of her life, this aristocratic lady was quite fat. She was attractive nonetheless, with radiant blue eyes and full pouting lips.

When Lady Druscilla, or Auntie Dru as she was referred to, came to stay at Stanley Hall, it was my unpleasant task to care for her feet. In the evenings, I would go to her in her drawing room, taking a basin of warm water to wash her feet with. Her feet were small and dainty, but also podgy like the rest of her. I remember that they smelt incredibly cheesy sometimes. Sometimes when I would remove her stockings, the smell was quite overpowering. Auntie Dru was in the habit of wearing shoes that were too small for her, and as a result had corns on her feet. These corns I was made to file, and sometimes her feet had blisters that I had to pop and dress.

If she was in a particularly unpleasant mood, she would make me drink from the basin after I had finished washing her feet in it. "Come on girl, take a sip," she would say, then watch gleefully as I drank the water that her foul feet had been soaking in.

Once, I forgot to take the basin with me, but instead of allowing me to go and fetch it, the nasty old woman instead made me clean her feet with my mouth. I had to lick in between her toes, lick the soles of her feet, corns, blisters and all. It was a disgusting experience, it makes me feel physically sick to recall it, but she enjoyed it immensely. She said she used to let her dog lick her feet when she was younger, and it was even nicer to have a young lady lick her feet now. I used to dread going to her room each evening, not knowing if I would have to wash her feet or lick them.

One evening, she had Eric come to her room too. She was sat in her usual chair with her feet up on the footstool. I knelt down besides this and started to peel off her stockings.

"How is your French?" she asked Eric.

"Parfait, mademoiselle," he responded.

"Here, read this to me while the girl licks my feet." She handed him a well-thumbed looking book. Eric opened it to the page that was marked and began to read. I did not understand French very well, but I knew enough of it to realise that the story he was reading out was indecent, maybe even obscene. Auntie Dru listened with pleasure, while I licked her sweaty feet.

Eric was evidently finding what he was reading quite stimulating too. He giggled at several parts and began to go red in the face as he continued to read to his aunt.

"Eric, you're blushing," she said, as he paused his reading of the dirty story.

"Sorry auntie, this is rather good though, isn't it? I've not read this before."

"What is that in the front of your britches?" she asked coyly.

There was a bulge poking up in the crotch of his trousers where the young man was visibly excited by reading the book.

"Sorry, auntie," he murmured.

"Don't be sorry. It's nice to see one after all this time. Take your trousers down and show me properly."

Eric obeyed, undoing his belt and lowering his trousers and pantaloons. His prick jutted out stiffly.

"Oh yes, you have grown into a fine figure of a man, haven't you Eric, dear? Continue reading."

Eric continued to read the rude book, his trousers around his ankles and his auntie staring lustfully at his twitching prick. I was sucking her toes one by one.

"It is a rather interesting story, don't you think Eric?"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Tell me, when you get excited, do you ever abuse yourself?"

Eric blushed an even deeper shade of red. "Well sometimes, auntie."

"Show me," she said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of Eric, everybody does it."

So, Eric began tugging and rubbing his stiff prick with one hand while holding the book with the other and continuing to read aloud.

Auntie Dru was apparently getting quite agitated while watching and listening to her handsome nephew. She pulled up her skirts and petticoat, and said to me "You girl, you can leave off licking my feet now. Lick me here instead."

She was spreading her legs and baring her hairy twat to me. She pushed the foot stool to one side, and I crawled in between her chubby thighs. I was very nervous looking at her hairy twat, I had never been this close to another woman's private parts before. It was only inches from my face and there was a pungent aroma, something like trout, coming from it.

"Come on girl, don't be shy," said Auntie Dru. "Lick it."

I tentatively stuck my tongue out and licked between the ragged pink folds of her pussy lips. The taste and the smell were astonishing, and her long pubes tickled my face. She grunted and put her hands around the back of my head to pull me in closer. My face was forced up against her moist, furry cunt. My nose slipped into her wet folds.

"Lick it, and suck it," she instructed me softly. I stuck my tongue out and explored around the nooks and crannies of her vulva. The juice that was oozing from it tasted sweet, but the smell of it was very stinky. I found myself wondering if my own pudenda looked and smelled as disgusting as Auntie Dru's did. Ladies can be so pretty in their faces, so divinely constructed in their breasts and legs and buttocks, but the part that ultimately makes them a woman is almost always hideous to behold. I sucked the soft skin of her cunt flaps into my mouth and nibbled on them. "Ah yes that's good. Now lick it at the top." I obeyed her request, tonguing the throbbing lump of her clitoris. "Eric, continue with your reading."

Eric had stopped reading the book to watch his aunt being licked by me. He was still tugging at himself. He now resumed his reading, his French making little sense to me but apparently describing something very interesting for his aunt.

"Read that part again," she said. "Starting at courez pour votre vie."

Eric went back and re-read the same passage aloud again. Aunt Dru was becoming increasingly excited, pulling my face in tight to her crotch and grinding her smelly twat against my cute little nose. She took Eric's erection in her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Oh, auntie!" he groaned, stopping his reading. He let go of his prick and allowed her to masturbate him instead. She tugged him with one hand and rested her other hand on top of my head.

"Keep reading," she sighed at him. "And you, girl, keep licking."

I tongued her sloppy hole as forcefully as I could. I was not used to licking anything this much, and the root of my tongue was soon aching. My chin was wet with pussy juice and saliva, and her pubes were irritating my face. But I kept licking.

Auntie Dru was panting for breath, and her hand was a blur as she wanked Eric. The poor lad was struggling to hold back his cum and keep reading the story, and eventually he could not hold it in any longer, and he came with a cry of ecstasy. His sperm squirted out and landed on my hair and Auntie Dru's bare thighs.

One evening, Eric had invited a group of his friends back to Stanley Hall for dinner. They had been hunting that day, and it was traditional to have a banquet following a successful hunt. I was not invited to attend, which suited me as I went to bed at nine o'clock, and after reading for half an hour or so I blew out the lamp and settled down to sleep. I could still hear the sound of Eric and his friends roistering together in the dining hall below, but this did not bother me, and I was soon asleep.

I was woken up by the sound of my bedroom door opening. I was not sure how long I had been asleep, but it was still dark outside. I heard voices, Eric speaking to his friends in hushed tones.

"This is her," hissed Eric.

"Come on, let's have a look at her!" shouted one of the other young men.

"Hush! Keep your voice down!" said someone else.

"It doesn't matter," said Eric, who was holding a candle that lit up the room and looking straight at me. "She's already awake."

Eric came into the room, followed by six other men, young aristocrats in evening dress.

"Eric, what are you doing here so late?" I asked, blinking in the candlelight. "I was asleep."

"Well, you're awake now," he replied. "I was telling my friends about you, and they wanted to see you, so I have brought them up to meet you." He was slurring a little, he sounded drunk.

"She's a funny looking wench, isn't she?" said one of the other young men.

"Nice tits though," commented another. I pulled the bedcovers up around my neck to try and hide myself from the leers of these drunken young men.

Eric came and sat on the side of the bed next to me. I cringed under the bedclothes, so I was covered up to my chin and just my face was peeping out.

"Come on, no need to be modest," said one of the men.

"Take the covers off of her Eric, we want to see her properly," demanded another.

"Get your tits out!" one of them hooted raucously.

"Be quiet, you lot!" snapped Eric. "She's my bird. I said I would let you see her, I'm not making her strip off for you though."

"Selfish!"

"Spoilsport!"

"Ignore them, Bethany," said Eric. For once I thought he sounded genuinely tender towards me. I was soon to be proved wrong though. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry you weren't at the banquet, you were missed. And I hope you sleep well."

"Oh, thank you Eric."

"But first, we have a present for you," he said with a giggle.

"A present?" I was confused.

"Yes. A nice present that you will enjoy. Come on, boys." He pushed me down on the bed and pulled the covers up over my head so I was completely covered. I felt some of the others climb onto the bed, so the blanket was pinned down on top of me. I could not get out from under it, I was trapped in the bed. I heard the young men moving about and giggling. I struggled under the bedclothes, but there must have been four or five of them sat on the bed and pinning the bedcovers down on top of me, so I could not escape from underneath them.

Suddenly, the blankets were lifted up at one side, and to my great surprise, a naked bottom appeared at the gap in the bedcovers next to my head. I recognised the bottom as Eric's, as he had a very distinctive mole on his left bum cheek.

"Here's your present!" he groaned, straining. And then he let rip with an enormous fart, right next to my head. The bedclothes were pulled back down tight over me, and I was trapped under the covers with the smell of Eric's fart. It smelled noxious and I gasped with disgust.

The boys were all laughing merrily. Again a gap was opened in the covers next to my head, and a different bare bottom, a particularly hairy one, immediately filled the gap. I looked in horror at this hairy arse, and it farted at me, a long, spluttering burst of flatulence inches from my face. I shrieked as I looked at that hirsute, flatulent bottom. Once this hairy bottom had finished farting, the bedcovers were pulled down tight over me again.

I struggled, but it was no use, I could not get free from under the bedclothes. I was trapped in there with the rancid smell of the boys' farts. I screamed, and this made all of them laugh very heartily.

"My turn!" announced a voice.

"I've got one brewing!" guffawed another voice.

"You go first, Smitty. Yours are always a lot stinkier than mine."

"Yours don't smell that great either, you know."

"Come on, don't keep the lady waiting. One of you do it."

I heard a belt unbuckle, and the bed covers were lifted revealing another pair of exposed bum cheeks next to my face. It was a skinny, spotty bottom. The owner of these cheeks was laughing loudly, and he farted, and then farted again, and again. Over and over he farted, his bottom bursting forth with a series of ten or more farts in rapid succession. The smell was appalling, the unpleasant odour assaulted my nostrils. Again the covers were pulled down tight, and I was trapped in the warmth and smell in the bed.

The other boys applauded this dirty behaviour.

"Oh, please stop," I begged them. "Oh, please let me go! It smells so awful in here!"

But they only laughed at me. They lifted the side of the covers again, careful not to let too much fresh air get in underneath them. Another nude behind took its place next too my face, and an extended, melodious fart sighed out of it. The fart lasted several seconds, and changed in pitch towards the end, starting as a low rumble and finishing in a tuneful squeak that made the boys laugh.

The bottom disappeared and was quickly replaced by another. The owner of this bottom was holding his cheeks wide apart, so I could see his hole winking as he struggled to force out a fart for me.

The next bottom was plump and sweaty, and the noise it produced sounded very wet as it blew out from between those moist cheeks. It was becoming unbearably smelly underneath the bedclothes. The stench was making me feel queasy.

Finally, the last boy took his position with his bum pointing at me. They were a very handsome pair of buttocks, but what emerged from between them was anything but beautiful. The fart that the seventh gentleman did on me was a very wet one, so wet that I saw a few gobbets of brown, liquid shit squirt out of his bum along with the fart and splatter onto the bed sheets.

The covers were again pulled tight over me, and I was held there, marinating in the stench of the boys' bottom burps. Now that all seven of them had taken their turn blowing off on me, I thought they might leave me alone. But I was sadly disappointed. A lot of them wanted to take another turn. It got to be a competition between them, all of the boys wanting to fart the most and the loudest.

I was sobbing with shame as they farted on me. But they callously refused to stop. The smell under the bedclothes was unbelievable, the gases that emerged from the seven young gentlemen's bum holes combining to create the most horrifying smell I had ever been forced to endure. My flatuous torment seemed to last for hours, but in reality I was probably not imprisoned under the bedclothes for anything like that long while the gang of young rascals took turns farting on me.

"Are you enjoying it, you little slut?" Eric sneered, poking me in the ribs through the bedcovers.

"No! What have you boys been eating to make your wind smell so unpleasant?"

"Curried mutton!" roared one of the gentlemen, and the others laughed. "And beer, lots of beer!"

"Why are you doing this to me? It smells terrible! Please stop, please let me go!" I cried.

"Oh, please stop!" Eric imitated me, putting on a falsetto voice. The other men laughed at his impression of me.

"Please, no more! I think I'm going to be sick!"

"Very well. I'll be merciful," said Eric. "I will let you out from there, but on one condition. You have to let one of us fart in your mouth while the others watch." The other boys roared with laughter and cheered his filthy suggestion. "So what's it going to be? We can keep you in there for hours and keep farting on you if you like, or this can be over in a moment if you let one of us fart in your mouth. It has to be right in your mouth though. You have to put your mouth right on the bum hole."

"Oh, please no. I can't do that," I whined. I was horrified by the thought of my lips touching a boy's bum hole, and letting someone fart in my mouth.

"Fair enough, it is your decision. In that case, we shall carry on then," he taunted me cruelly.

"No, wait!" I said in a panic . "Who of you would it be that would do it?"

"Well, because I am such a fair-minded gentleman, I shall let you choose. If you agree to it, we will let you out and then you can decide which of us you would most like to fart in your mouth."

"Oh, if that's how it must be, I agree," I sobbed. I didn't know what else to do. They had me at their mercy, I was outnumbered and trapped so I had to concede to their terms. "I'll do it."

The young men all cheered rowdily, and the bed covers were pulled back. I gasped for breath, so grateful to be breathing in the comparatively fresh air after having been trapped for some time under the bedclothes with the stench of their farts.

To my horror, I realised that the seven young men who were crowded into my bedroom had all taken down their trousers. I did not know where to look for modesty's sake. Bare bottoms, hairy thighs, dangling scrotums and turgid male members were visible on every side of my bed. I also realised I now felt very exposed, wearing only my thin night dress, the rude men leering at my pert young body.

"What's it going to be then?" demanded Eric. "Who would you most like to fart in your mouth?"

I looked around at the boys' leering, drunken faces. Being put on the spot and having to choose who was going to do something so awful to me filled me with dread. My first instinct was to choose Eric, as he was the only one I knew and for some foolish reason it seemed worse to think of a stranger farting in my mouth. But as I looked at him, him grinning at me and enjoying my perturbation, I realised I would have to see him again the following morning, and the day after that, and every day after that, always being reminded that it had been him who had farted in my mouth.

So, choosing one of the other young gentlemen to do this beastly thing and then hopefully never having to see him again seemed like the more sensible choice. I looked around the men, they looked like a pack of leering wolves, drunken, lustful and cruel. Apart from one of them. He seemed softer, more kind, more friendly. He had handsome features and a blonde moustache that made him look quite dashing. So I pointed to him and said "Him, he can do it."

A great cheer went up from the gentleman's comrades.

"Hurrah for Walter!"

"Go on Walt, give it to her, you lucky devil!"

The man blushed and grinned at me shyly. Only Eric looked disappointed by my choice, I believe it would have pleased him immensely if I had chosen him to be the one to fart in my mouth.

Walter stepped forward, his comrades slapping him on the back and shaking him by the hand.

"Please be kind to me sir," I said, looking into his watery blue eyes. He nodded to me, a slight gentlemanly bow of acknowledgment to a lady's request.

I was made to lie back on the bed, and the young gentleman who was named Walter climbed up onto it a little unsteadily. He had already removed his trousers, and he put his socked feet either side of my head and squatted down, lowering his handsome behind towards my face. His buttocks spread as he crouched over me, and I could see his dirty arse hole and his hairy balls. I closed my eyes in horror.

The young gent sat on my face and moved around until his bum hole was over my mouth. Eric, who was leant over the bed and watching closely, guided his friend to position his anus against my mouth. Once in position, Walter lowered his weight onto me, sitting on my face and squashing my head against the mattress.

The dirty bum hole pressed against my lips. I could feel the encrustation of dried shit that adhered to the rim of his anus. Toilet paper was an uncommon luxury in the 19th century, and even members of the aristocracy would use old newspaper to wipe themselves with after they shat. As a result, standards of anal hygiene were generally a lot lower then than they are now. So, it was no great surprise that the anus I was now being forced to put my mouth to was a dirty one. I was horrified and disgusted but not surprised. I could feel particles of dried faeces pressing against my moist lips while I waited for the young rapscallion to break wind into my open mouth.

The young men chattered with eager excitement as they waited for Walter to fart. The anticipation built. I felt close to tears. He was straining. Eric told the other boys to quieten down, "And you, keep your mouth open wide," he said to me. I opened my mouth wider against Walter's anus.