Avoiding the Missionary Position

The words were Lord Horace's, the laughter came from his fellow pupils. The pack of males were looking down on her as if they were dark angels rejoicing in the imminent fall of yet another pure soul into the depths of degradation. Madeline felt her face flaming in shame as she parted her lips. Algy's right hand reached out, past her, gripped the nape of her neck, urgent fingers entwined themselves into her hair. Then his palm pressed against the back of her head, pressed with a strength and assurance there was no denying, no point in even making a futile struggle against.

Perhaps that was what Algy wanted, what the boys wanted, to see her make one last desperate attempt to escape. It might even be what Diane wanted. At least Madeline could deny them that satisfaction, if no other. She obeyed Algy's guiding hand, parted her lips, bent forward and accepted the helm of his sex between them.

The first impression was of the smoothness, of saltiness, of heat, of a rubbing sensation against the roof of her mouth, of the pulse within the phallus she could feel through the softness of her own mouth. As if tasting a new dish she tentatively rubbed the top of her tongue against the undercurve of the boy's arousal. The response was immediate and unnerving. The serpent's head nestling in the back of her mouth slithered forward as Algy's hand forced her head closer yet to his body, until her nose was almost pressed into the patch of coarse blonde hair at the bottom of his stomach. From it protruded that instrument which it was required of her to accommodate, accommodation she was finding it increasingly difficult to provide without feeling completely choked.

Madeline tried to recall how Edith had dealt with the same situation, presumably as a result of previous experience. Like Edith, Madeline closed her lips entirely around Algy's phallus, whilst yet taking care not to nip it with her teeth. Next she drew deep on the member, sucking it until she could feel her cheeks dimpling as Edith's had, and the breath snorting through her nostrils. Then she began, as far as she was able, to slide her mouth up and down the phallus. Algy immediately responded by removing his hand and letting her lips retreat to his tip and then slip back down the length of his organ like a ring sliding onto a finger. The final part indeed of a black mockery of a marriage ceremony, the open display of a woman showing her burning eagerness to be taken by a male. Madeline suddenly had the odd thought that all the white gowns and formal ceremony of a Christian marriage perhaps meant no more than that either.

"Hey, the vicar's floozy is a genuine cocksmoker!"

"Look at that plump little prick jockey taking the jumps."

"Playing a good tune on your pink piccolo, is she, Algy? I'll make her yodel with mine, you wait and see."

Madeline suddenly remembered what else she had seen Edith do, and also copied the action. Sometimes she paused in her work, her head tilted back with the tip of Algy's manhood nestled between her opened lips. With upturned eyes stared at his face as Edith had, in the same pose of doglike adoration and readiness to obey any order given to her.

"Enough", Horace's voice boomed out. "I'm as randy as hell from watching that Vicar's piece of cunt perform. Move aside and let me try my luck against this dark bitch's."

Algy laughed and tugged at Madeline's hair, bringing her to her feet and moving her backwards as Horace pushed Yvonne forward and then took position opposite her across the couch.

"Hands behind your backs," Diane ordered. "Now, show!"

Horace laughed as his scissors came out against Yvonne's flattened hand. "Down on your knees, wench."

Yvonne sank down on the couch. Diane nodded to Edith and then at Duncan. Edith went to the boy and knelt down at his feet. Diane walked over to Wendell and did as Edith had done. Eager fingers reached down and clutched at long hair as each boy urged on the woman pleasuring him. Algy's arms came around Madeline from behind and squeezed her breasts so fiercely she felt her tight nipples were going to pop like chestnuts in a fire. Algy moved her forward towards the chaise lounge.

"Down, bitch."

Madeline knelt next to Yvonne. Algy spoke over her head: "Here, Horace, your turn for some Christian charity."

"By God, and so it is."

Horace stepped back from Yvonne, withdrawing his saliva coated length from Yvonne, then sidewards, like a dance partner in a polka. One of his hands grabbed at the top of Madeline's head, twisted up strands of hair between his fingers and forced her to lift up her head as he moved closer. Unwillingly but without hesitation Madeline parted her lips as she had done for Algy and used her fingertips to guide his hard flesh into her mouth. But there was no pause here, no chance to settle herself into the rhythm of the other body before Horace thrust his battering ram so deeply down her throat that pain and want of air forced tears to spring to her eyes.

"A little more restraint, my lord," Algy suggested as he took advantage of Yvonne's opened lips. "The lady is still more used to singing than swallowing man mutton. Give her a little space and a little time and she'll do tricks that will have her blushing in church on Sunday."

"She'll blush right enough. To hell with it, Algy, I want my clergyman cuckolded right now, to the count of four and without stopping. Who'll help me in fucking his wife like a regimental whore on pay night."

The other two boys whooped out in approval, as if they were followers at a hunt seeing a fox caught in the jaws of the hounds. "Set her up, Horace, set her up."

Horace removed himself from her mouth and lifted Madeline up. There seemed to be boys all around the chaise lounge, all knowing what needed to be done. Yvonne was brought to the unbacked end, and then pushed face down on top it, her upper thighs splayed out and digging into each corner of the couch's end. Her hands were held flat on the polished floorboards, her head resting on one cheek, eyes wide with apprehension.

"Relax, my girl," Diane said. "His Lordship has need of a cushion and you'll serve well enough with Madeline on top of you."

"What . . . ?"

Madeline's arms were seized, then her legs as she was pushed over backwards, then thrust down on top of Yvonne's body, hearing the girl below her gasp as the weight fell on her, spine pressing against spine. Horace and Algy knelt down, still holding one of her arms each and hooked them through Yvonne's, in a kind of crucifixion pose. Duncan and Wendell had her hands on her calves now, using their grip to lift her feet high up and wide apart. Beyond them stood Edith and Diane, watching with close interest at these preparations. Duncan and Wendell moved closer, forcing Madeline's legs back until they trapped against their chests. Their hands disappeared out of sight, fingers plunging into Madeline and Yvonne's private places. Both captive girls called out and jerked against each other. Then the boys moved aside, but still holding onto Madeline's ankles to keep her pinoned and exposed. As they moved, they revealed Horace's leering face and the raised cane in his hand.

"Please, no, my Lord!"

Madeline's cry for mercy was instantly followed by a shriek as the cane lashed across her bared bottom, and then by another from underneath her as Yvonne was given a cut. Another slash at Madeline soft curves and she begged again for mercy, to no avail. Horace swept the cane down again and again, sometimes aiming several times at Madeline and then applying himself vigorously to Yvonne for a series of cuts. As he did so the writhing body underneath Madeline's would set her breasts quivering and shaking, and Algy leaned forward to twist their points between his fingers.

Then Horace hung the cane from one of Madeline's ankles to free both his hands and reached down. Each set of fingers probed much deeper than either Madeline or Yvonne could have supposed possible. Each girl heard the other call out in part anguish and part ecstasy, and not only heard the cries but felt them through their areas of shared body pressure where sweat was sticking skin to skin. The Duke's son lifted his hands up again, pressing them against the inside of Madeline's legs as if to spread them further, though she was certain that was not possible without tearing some of her thigh muscles apart. She called out in her distress, elbows clamped hard against Yvonne's, as open as a church door to any man who wanted to enter her. Edith and Diane were standing at each side of Lord Horace, reaching down to guide him into her. Algy's hands were kneading every square inch of her breasts . . .

Madeline threw her head back, opened her eyes and mouth and cried aloud to the watchers around the chaise lounge as Horace took her in great thrusts on top of Yvonne. Algy's glittering eyes looked down on her total debasement with mild interest.

"Cheer up, Madeline," he said. "By the time we've finished with you nobody is going to be able to call you a foolish virgin."

THE END