The Travels of Richard William Poole

Info silverhawk
02 Aug. '18

Under the eyes of Master Johnson, I learned the carving art quickly, for the chisel seemed to be a natural extension of my hand, and my eyes saw the finished piece hiding inside the wood.  In only a year, I could make passable, if not yet the quality of Master Johnson’s, decorative effects on nearly any type of furniture.  In far less time, I had learned to satisfy the desires of his wife Anne, as Master Johnson enjoyed the love of another man rather than that of a woman.

On one sunny day in August, a finely dressed man came into the workshop to speak with Master Johnson.  His business was expanding into new buildings, one of which served to house his office.  He described his wish for furniture more lavish than that of his business acquaintances, and Master Johnson promptly drew up a contract for the same.

Of course, Master Johnson would have none of a mere journeyman’s work applied to these furnishings, and instead, left me to fashion the ordinary work which came into the shop.
It was on the very next Monday I was first introduced to Corrine Trent.  I say introduced, but in truth, I made my own introduction after receiving her card from the driver of her carriage.  

The carriage, a sumptuous affair pulled by two horses as black as the night had drawn up outside the workshop.  I happened to be outside and witnessed the event.  The driver alighted from his perch, tethered his horses with a carriage weight, and then strode in my direction.  His voice was calm and confident.

“Go and fetch Mr. Poole, if you please, Sir.”

“I am Mr. Poole.  How may I be of service?”

He handed me an engraved card.  On the back, written in the hand of a woman, was an address.

“Your presence is requested today at the home of Mistress Trent at your convenience.  She has a task to which to set you.  May I inform her of your arrival time?

His presumption was somewhat of an irritation, but Anne, Master Johnson’s wife, had told me of Mistress Trent, who she called by the first name of Corrine.  They were lovers and Anne had hinted the possibility I might join them in their lovemaking.  I knew not what would transpire when we met, but my curiosity was greatly piqued.

“Please tell her I will arrive at her door three hours after noon.”

The Mistress’ house was on the outskirts of the city, and while very lovely, was not so large as I had anticipated from the elegance of her carriage.  Still, the two-storied structure was impressive by any standards, with a magnificent, tree filled lawn in the front and gay flower gardens at the sides.

The bronze door knocker was unlike any I had ever laid eyes on.  It appeared to be an ax, but sported two blades back to back.  A similar figure I remembered seeing in one of Father’s books.  The etching denoted it as the weapon of a reputed race of female warriors in ancient Greece.  Why a civilized person would choose such a figure to announce visitors, I could not fathom.  It did serve the purpose well, for upon applying the handle to the striker plate twice, the door was opened.  

Upon my announcing my name and presenting the Mistress’ card, the woman servant escorted me to a chair in the foyer and then bustled off up a wide, curving staircase.  Shortly I heard a low conversation of which I could not determine the content.  The woman then descended the same stair, and beckoning me to follow, showed me into a small parlor of sorts set on one side of the house.

The finish and furnishings of this room were as impressive as Mistress Trent’s carriage, the walls being paneled with rich wood and the ornate furniture consisting of a large couch or divan covered in a lavender velvet, two chairs likewise so upholstered, and a small walnut table between.  On this table was a small bronze of a standing woman in nightdress.  As I surveyed the construction of this table, I heard the closing of the parlor door.

Mistress Trent was a striking woman I estimated at thirty years whose face shone from amidst the auburn tresses which framed a beautiful smile of very white teeth, a small, pert nose, and eyes of emerald that sparkled with life.

“Mister Poole, I believe.  I am Mistress Trent.”

“Yes, I am the Richard Poole to which your summons was directed, but for what purpose I have not an inkling.”

She smiled.

“I learned of your skills from a mutual acquaintance, Anne Johnson.  I believe you know of our relationship?”

“Yes.  I am in the employ of her husband, and learning the skills of the carver.”

“Anne told me of your work, and recommended your skills.  She also related your interest in a certain activity of which we spoke.  I wished to meet you, and as it happens, I have such a use for your woodworking skills, that being the desire for a new bed.”

I had had the foresight to bring pencil and paper, and now took these out that we might begin.

“If you would describe your wishes, I shall draw them that we may develop a plan.”

“Yes, yes, we shall do so, but first I have a question for you, and I must have the truth as your answer.  Anne has discussed our secret relationship with you.  This I know.  Have you related that discussion to others?”

“Mistress Trent, if you know of that conversation, then surely you know from Anne of our own relationship.  I would never repeat anything that passed between us for fear of causing her or Master Johnson harm.”

“So she said, but I required this assurance from you yourself.  Might I ask the same confidence of you in what we are about to discuss?”

“Of course you may, but if I might ask a question of you, why would the plan for a bed require secrecy?  It is after all, only a platform for sleeping upon.”

“Ah…you are quite naive, young man, and I sense the country in your speech.  You have not been long in the city, is this not true?”

I allowed that it was, and told her briefly of my travels, leaving out the parts concerning Molly and Elizabeth.

“Well, Mister Poole, today then, you shall learn another lesson of life.  The bed I wish you to manufacture is of special design, special for the carvings I wish to have done on the four posts and special by virtue of the posts themselves.  It is these posts and the reason for them that I must ask you to swear to secrecy. “

I was still somewhat confused, but I agreed to her terms.

“Good, then we shall begin.  My bed will not be what one would expect of any woman, but I am not just any woman.  I operate a profitable business, just as do  the men who operate the workshops and exchanges, though my business is one for which secrecy is the means to success.

“You see, some of the same men of iron will who command armies of workers have certain unique tastes in recreation.  My carriage provides confidential transport to and from here, and I furnish that recreation.  Were my clients known to others, their embarrassment would be great.”

I was somewhat confused.

“Mistress Trent, I can think of no entertainment which would require this, but as you say, I am new to the city.  Perhaps if you could explain further, I should be of more assistance in the specifics you require.“

“Very well.  It would seem that the pressure of making decisions affecting many persons sometimes renders the decision-maker incapable of arousal.  He needs…a truly unique sight or treatment before both mind and body become willing.  Such a sight could be secretly observing two women in the act of love.  Such a treatment could be for a woman to bind his limbs to render him helpless and then use certain implements to bring him to his release.

“My business is the fulfillment of these needs.  I would be one of the lovers observed, and it will be my hands that do the binding and use the implements.  You look shocked, but do not be.  Such is the condition of some men.  I believe it  not wrong to profit from their special needs, especially when such profit is a handsome one.  I am sorry if this upsets your sensibilities, but you will find me a direct person who can not but speak the truth in plain terms.”

“I understand your need for confidence, but I do not see what import this has on the planning and building of a bed.”

“My new bed will have certain carvings on the posts designed to increase the ardor of my clients, and hidden within the posts shall be ringbolts for the purpose of binding them should they desire that sort of entertainment.  It is important those compartments be invisible unless required, for some men are uneasy with the idea of being so helpless.”

“Mistress Trent, as I admire your forward manner of speaking and the bestowance of your trust, I would never betray your confidence in these matters.”

“Ah.  Mister Poole, you are indeed the man of which Anne spoke.  Now, let us begin.”

The bed was to be of dimensions large enough for three people, with head and foot boards and a tester and rails for curtains.  The four posts were unique in my experience.  Each was to be large enough in section to accommodate her special carvings.  These carvings were to be of four women, totally nude, and each post would display a different pose.  The dimensions of the posts were also to be of sufficient size for securely fastening the required ringbolts as well as hiding them from sight.

Mistress Trent cautioned me to finish the bed as I would any other, and then deliver it to her home.  The carvings would be completed there, where no eyes other than hers and mine would lay upon them. I had thought to do them from memory of Molly, though Molly’s curves were more generous than most.  At this suggestion, Mistress Trent eyed me suspiciously and asked how I might have knowledge of Molly’s naked form.  I was forced to reveal even that part of my history.  Mistress Trent only chuckled and said she, herself, would serve as my model.

The bed required two weeks time to complete owing to the larger posts and hidden compartments, less the carvings, of course, and was soon assembled in Mistress Trent’s bedchamber.  The next day, I loaded my chisels, mallet and hones into a bag and went to her home to begin carving.

The young maiden who answered my knock immediately escorted me up the winding staircase and to a door, knocked twice, and then left.  The door opened and I experienced quite another surprise.  Mistress Trent wore only a chemise of silk.  At her invitation, I entered the room and placed my tools by the bed.  When I turned back to ask on which post I should begin, I could not speak.  Mistress Trent had slipped off her chemise and stood only in the clothes in which she entered this world.

She smiled at the look on my face.

“Mister Poole, if you continue to stare so, this bed shall require a great deal of time to complete.”

“Mistress Trent, forgive me, but I can not help myself.  You are very beautiful.”

“So I have been told, but men are such children about such things.  They would think even a hag beautiful if she had large breasts and a round arse.  Still, I thank you for your compliment.  Now, if your tools are sharp and ready, we shall begin.”

She walked to the leftmost post of the head.

“On this post, you shall carve me in this pose.”

I began to shave away carefully at the hard oak, and after a few minutes, was fortunately able to develop a certain detachment from the erotic vision Mistress Trent presented.  Her pose was with left hand on her right breast, and her right hand on the carpet of auburn curls that guarded her nether lips.  

I worked on this post for two days before finishing.  Mistress Trent was pleased.  The other three posts were duly carved over the next week and two days in other poses.  In one, the one I fancied the best, she simply stood with her arms at her sides and her palms open and beckoning.  To me, this was the one which better displayed her charms than the others, as she appeared so soft and feminine.  The other two, at the foot board, were very nice indeed, being one with her hand caressing her hip while the other stroked her hair, and the last of her with her arms embracing herself.  I was to return the next day to apply the shellac finish and polish the carvings to a soft luster.

The next morning, I hied myself to Mistress Trent’s house and was shown in as usual, except that Mistress Trent was not in her bedchamber.  The servant girl explained her Mistress was away and would join me at a later time.  So saying, she left, closing the door behind her.

I carefully went over each carving with a small scraper I had made just for that purpose until I was certain no offending splinters remained.  The operation occupied most of the morning, for I had put a great amount of detail into each soft curve, even unto the small nipples, and did not wish to erase any of the work.  Just before noon, I applied the first coat of shellac and left it to dry.

My noon meal, of bread and cheese, I took beneath a large oak behind the house as had been my custom.  Upon finishing the last few crumbs, I went back to Mistress Trent’s bedchamber to continue my work.  I presently heard talking on the stair, and soon Mistress Trent walked into the room accompanied by none other than Anne.

“Anne, this is the new bed of which I have told you and Mister Poole is just finishing the details.  Is it not grand?”

Anne walked to the bed, the layers of her underskirts rustling as she did, and put her fingertips to the breast of the figure carved on the left-hand foot post.

“Corrine, it is a beautiful bed, and these carvings…are these by your hand, Richard?”

“Yes, they are of my doing.  Do they please you?”

“Very much so.  You have much talent.   You did this from your memory of a past lover?”

Mistress Trent laughed.

“Anne, you silly goose, do you not recognize my face on the figures?”

“Well, I thought as much, but did not want to embarrass Richard if it were not you.”

“Well, ‘tis I, and I posed for Mister Poole every day, dressed just as you see me in the carvings.”

Anne clapped her hand to her mouth to suppress the giggle.

“You were unclothed in front Richard and he was yet able to carve?

“Mister Poole was a complete gentleman through the process”, she giggled, “though I fear at times his chisel was not the only of his tools that was long and hard.”

Anne giggled again.

“Now you have embarrassed Richard, I think.  See how he blushes?”

They left for tea, and a little later, Mistress Trent rejoined me. The bed was finished and hand-rubbed to satin smoothness, and I was collecting my tools and finish.

“When may I put on the bedclothes and curtains?”

“By tomorrow the finish will have dried sufficiently.   Then you may do as you please.”

“I should like you to return tomorrow afternoon then.”

“For what purpose?  The bed is complete.  Do you wish to order more furnishings?”

“I have enough furniture for the moment.   I wish to use other skills I feel you have.  Would you have interest in such a proposal?”

“Mistress Trent, if it is within my ability, absolutely.”

“Come down to the sitting room, then.  We shall have tea while I tell you of this task.”

She sipped her tea, then placed the cup and saucer on the small table beside her chair.

“May I begin to call you Richard, at least in private, and would you call me by my given name, Corrine?  You and Anne are on such terms, and I hope such familiarity seems appropriate between us.”

“If it pleases you.”

“Very well, then.  Richard, I have grown to trust you over the last weeks, and now ask that you trust me.  Before using my new bed for the enjoyment of my clients, I must have a rehearsal of its use.  You are a strapping young man, and very muscular.  I should like to employ those muscles for the purpose of testing my new bed.”

“You would bind me, hand and foot.”

“Yes, but only for so long as is required to strain the mountings for the bindings to the extent of your strength.”

Corrine smiled wickedly.

“Unless, of course, you appear to be enjoying the experience.  In any case, there would be certain rewards for your efforts.”


Corrine smiled again.

“There is one other detail of which you should be aware.  There is to be another present…Anne.”

“Anne…Mrs. Johnson?”

“The same, and by my request.  You know that Anne and I have been lovers for some time.  I have always craved the touch of a woman, but Anne desires the attention of both sexes.  In discussing our differences when we first met, Anne made this known.  I suggested she might choose to bring a man to one of our liaisons.  Her choice was for that man to be you.

“We shall let the afternoon proceed as it wishes, but I promise there will be no attempt to coerce you to do a thing to which you do not agree.”

After some further discussion of what would transpire, my mind was put at ease and I accepted her proposal.  At two in the afternoon of the following day, I tapped at the kitchen door of the house.  Anne had requested this as my point of entrance, as anyone with the knowledge that she and I were there together would certainly set tongues wagging.

Corrine and Anne were waiting when I entered the bedchamber, and the sight of Corrine caused me to stop dead in my tracks.  The beautiful Corrine I had sculpted into the bedposts was dressed in breeches and stockings such as a man might wear, and a corset pushed her breasts into two soft mounds that threatened to escape the binding and overflow.  Both garments were of the finest black kidskin as were the riding boots that reached to her mid-thigh, and the fit of all was so snug as to appear to be a second skin.  She smiled and strode toward me.

“Richard, at last you are here.”

I was dumbstruck and said not a word.

“Richard, why do you stare so?  You have seen me in nothing.  I fail to see why seeing me clothed should cause such a look.”

Of course, she was making light of my stupor, but the humor did break the spell somewhat.

“Your dress is very…unusual, Corrine.”

“At least I have not the swelling in my breeches you appear to have in yours,” she chuckled.

“Yes, I admit that as well as unusual, the effect is very arousing.”

“So my clients also say.  Strange though, that a man’s breeches should cause such feelings.”

I had to laugh.

“Corrine, ‘tis not the man’s breeches, but the one who fills the breeches so well.”

Corrine stroked her thigh, then her hip.  

“If you say.  I rather enjoy the feel of tight leather, especially of my corset.  “Tis nearly like a lover’s embrace.  But enough of this.  The rehearsal must commence.  Richard, please lie on the bed…in the center.”

I did as requested.

“Now, if you please, stretch out your arms and legs toward the corner posts.”

Corrine opened the small door I had set into each post and withdrew a leather strap with an attached cuff of the same leather.  This she fastened about my wrist.  She then pulled the strap taut and though it was behind my head, I assumed she secured it to the heavy eyebolt I had screwed into the post.

She repeated this exercise to my other wrist and then to both my ankles.  Upon fastening the last, Corrine stepped back to view the results.

“Ah, it is perfect as to the position of your arms and legs.  If it is as strong as the look of it would predict, I shall be very satisfied.  Richard, attempt to free yourself, if you would.”

As I had constructed the bed of the finest oak, and that over five years in the seasoning, I had no fears of the thing falling down about me, and began to pull with most of my strength.  The leather straps squeaked as do the traces of a wagon harness, but not an inch of length did they give up.  A harder pull resulted in nothing save shutting off the blood to my hands and feet.  

“The bed will not budge, Corrine.  I have used every bit of the strength in my body with not a whisper from these timbers.”

“Richard, your work speaks for your skills, and will serve me well, I am certain.”

“I do appreciate your praise, but I fail to see how being trussed like a pig for the slaughter is in any way arousing.”
“Men with unique desires require a bit of coaxing to attain the stiffness required for release.  I shall demonstrate that you may learn the ways in which I coax the soft to become hard.  Anne, please help me lower his breeches.  I shall un-strap one leg at a time.  We would not wish him to escape, now would we?”

It was a somewhat strange feeling to have two beautiful women unlace my breeches and pull them down my legs, strange but not without consequences.  My manhood began to swell at the first touch of their hands, and no sooner was it freed from its confines than it stood up proudly.  This caused Corrine to chuckle.

“Richard, I see you have no problems with stiffness.  How am I to demonstrate waking the cock if he already crows?  Perhaps a small thump on his head?”

With a flick of her middle finger, Corrine not only stopped the crowing of the cock, but fairly laid him low.  She giggled at the start my body made at the small blow.

“Do not be concerned, Richard.  “Tis but a temporary condition, I assure you.  Now, where to begin?  Perhaps the lash?  One of my customers, a former sea captain, lives for the kiss of the cat, I suppose from having used one himself many times over the years.”

My face surely did show fright, for Corrine immediately explained her course of action.

“Do not fear, Richard.  My cat has had it’s claws drawn.  It will sting, but not cut, and I will give you only the taste, not the meal.”

So saying, Corrine produced from a chest a cat-o-nine-tails, as I later understood to be the proper name.  With a flick of her slender wrist, she sent the lashes across my chest.  I was about to allow that the sensation was more of a tickle when Corrine flicked her wrist again.  The lashes slashed across my middle, and one came within a fraction of my upright manhood.  It promptly wilted again as the real pain of the lash raced to my brain.

“Corrine, do cease.  Perhaps your cat lacks claws, but I am certain I felt it’s teeth.  Men truly do become aroused by this?  They must be odd men indeed.”

“Yes, they become aroused, some even to the point of spilling their seed.  Should they do so, I then give them more lashes for disobeying my orders.”

“What orders?  I fear you speak of things of which I have no knowledge.”

“Most men who avail themselves of my services enjoy being told to do this or that, and not to do that or this.  My order to almost all is they may not spill their seed until I give them permission.”

“I would not find that arousing, and I fear you would be lashing me again, for I am not able to stop the flood once it begins.”

Corrine grinned.

“So shall we see, my dear Richard.  Anne…just as we discussed?”

Corrine’s flogging with her cat had so occupied my every sense, I had not seen Anne disrobe, but when she approached the bed, my cock shot up again at the sight of the round, soft curves I had often felt against my body.

Corrine chuckled.

“Anne, it would seem you have made quite an impression on young Richard.  You need only to show him your breasts and he is ready to impale you.”

“Yes, and such a lovely spear he has, do you not think?”

“Anne, you know full well I find no enjoyment in men.”

“Yes, yes, but one need not be a gardener to enjoy the look of a flower, does one?”

Corrine sighed.

“I shall agree it is indeed a very nice cock, as cocks go, but I have no desire to feel it splitting me up the middle.  I shall leave that to you, Anne, when the time arrives.  Now, let us proceed with our plans.”

Corrine embraced Anne and kissed her on the mouth, just as I had done many times in the past, but the kiss was very different.  I had once spoken to a woman about tasting her.  This kiss was not only tasting, it was a joining of both women in their souls, or so it appeared.  

Anne’s eyes were closed, and her lips greedily moved across, then with Corrine’s.  I saw their tongues meet in a sensuous dance, then Anne seemed to pull Corrine’s into her mouth.  The only way I might adequately describe that action is to compare it to the sight of my stiff manhood being engulfed by the wet nether lips of a very aroused woman.

Corrine’s hands slipped from Anne’s waist to her breasts, cupping each, then caressing with a gentleness I could never have matched.  Her fingertips found the dark circles upon which perched Anne’s long, swollen nipples and traced a ring about them, then pressed on the side of one nipple, pushing it sideways to lay on Anne’s breast, and then let it slip upright again.  Anne moaned and reached for the strings of Corrine’s corset.

Being still trussed up like a roasting hen, I could do nothing but watch this sight.  My manhood had swollen to a frightful state.  The head was nearly purple from the degree of my arousal, and I felt the need to thrust my hips up off the bed.  Had I been free, I fear I would have forgotten Molly’s teachings and entered the woman I came to first.

Corrine’s corset fell to the floor and Anne knelt to pull off her boots.  A fit of giggling ensued because the boots were very tight, and Corrine nearly fell backwards onto the floor.  When the giggles subsided, Anne helped Corrine to the bed and bade her lie down beside me.

After more wiggling and squirming, the sight of which I enjoyed very much, Corrine lay beside me, as naked as when my eyes guided my hands to carve her likeness into the oak bedposts.  I could not restrain my thoughts to carving this time, however.  Corrine’s breasts were only inches from my face, and her green eyes sparkled when she saw me staring.

“Richard, I do believe you wish to be untied that you might ravage my body.”

“Corrine, were I free, I would indeed desire to make love to you…if you would consent, of course.”

Corrine chuckled, then looked at Anne.

“Anne, my love, should we set your lover free, or should we leave him helpless to do naught but observe?”

“If the stiffness of his shaft is any indication, I believe he is enjoying his observations very much.  Perhaps we should leave him thus, that he might enjoy his freedom even more when loosed.”

“Very well.  Come hither, my pretty, and lie on the bed with us.  We must give this young man something to observe.”

Observe I did, and nearly to the point of shooting my seed.  Corrine and Anne were so very arousing, what with them embracing above my body, and with all the tender touches by one to the breasts, nipples and hips of the other and the open-mouthed kisses that caused little smacking sounds to fill my ears.  Their sighs and moans caused he to arch off the bed as if thrusting into a lover’s portal, such was their effect on me.

I was nearly ready to beg for my release that I might quench the fire in my loins when Corrine crossed over my belly, knelt between Anne’s soft thighs, the thighs I had stroked and kissed many times, and then began to lick Anne’s pouting lips.  Anne at once moaned and began to stroke Corrine’s hair, pulling her face ever deeper into her nest of curls.  

Corrine appeared to be enjoying herself as well.  As she lapped away, her hand strayed between her own thighs and began to massage herself as I had Molly.  I knew there could be but one outcome to this sort of thing, and in only minutes I was proven right.  Anne gasped, pulled Corrine’s face tight between her wide-spread legs, and then arched into the air and cried out.  Corrine found her end only moments later, but continued to lick at Anne’s swollen lips as she herself was wracked by spasms and shudders of pleasure.  

This was a sight my eyes had never before witnessed, much less one in which I had been a participant.  I wondered at the strength of the spasms Anne had experienced.  I also wondered at the taste Corrine seemed to find so enjoyable.  

Often I had scented Molly and later Elizabeth and then Anne.  The aroma was not unpleasant, but never had I thought to sample the flavor.  Perhaps, I thought, this nectar was a means of gaining higher arousal for both the one licked and the one lapping.  

I did not have to think about the power of this sight to arouse me.  I was even more aroused than before, in fact, more aroused than I remembered being up to that point.  I groaned as Corrine reached to stroke Anne’s sides and then her breasts.

Both women giggled at the sound.

“Corrine, look what we have done to poor Richard.  His cock has dribbled all down his shaft.”

“So I see.  Perhaps we should release him now?”

“Oh, I think not.  His cock is much too inviting, and as in this state he must allow me to do as I wish with him, so I shall.”

“And what is it you would wish, my beauty?  I believe he would gladly push his pen into your well should that be it.”

“I think I rather fancy putting my well over his pen today”, chuckled Anne.  “Corrine, you really should allow yourself the experience at least once.  Richard is very good at the task.”

“I shall watch…and render such assistance as I deem fitting.”

Anne threw her leg over my body and sat upon my thighs.  After a bit of careful maneuvering of her body, her soft lips sat astride my swollen manhood.  She began to rock her body up over my shaft, and the pressure of her little pearl was unmistakable.  The soft little button traced me from near my base to almost the tip, and then went back down.  By raising my head, I could see Anne’s full lips almost encircling me.

After only a few minutes of this, my mind was filled with nothing other than thoughts of Anne’s soft cunny swallowing my manhood, and of pumping into her furiously until my seed raced from my loins.  Such was my state; Anne’s was even as aroused if I were to judge by the tiny purring sounds slipping from her throat and the amount of wetness I felt dripping over my ballocks.

“Ohhh…”, Anne moaned.  “I had hoped to tease poor Richard into begging for me to sheath his cock, but I find my need too great to continue this.”

After another moan, Anne rose, reached between us for my shaft, and guided it to her dripping portal.  With a sigh, she sank slowly over my length, inch by inch,  and shuddering all the way.  When my swollen head pressed against the end of her passage, Anne threw back her head, moaned loudly, and began to stroke herself over me.

Had I not been tied hand and foot, I should have sought to increase her passion by caressing her breasts and nipples and by fondling her round, soft hips.  As it were, I could do nothing but lie there, but Corrine appeared to understand Anne’s needs very well.  My vision of Anne was quietly replaced by the sight of Corrine’s beautiful hips and the fringe of auburn curls between between her smooth, soft thighs.  

While I could not bear witness to that to which Corrine employed her hands and mouth, I certainly felt the results on my manhood.  Anne became much more slippery, and increased the speed of her stroking.  I also felt the slender finger that slipped between us to rub Anne’s little button.  At the first touch, Anne mashed her cunny lips tight into me and groaned.  

I began thrusting up into Anne’s strokes, driving my shaft as deeply inside her as possible, and was near my end in a short time.  Just as the tightness began building in my loins, Corrine touched my belly and said in a calm, but very firm voice, “Richard, you will not spend until Anne gives you permission.”

Had Corrine directed me to catch the moon, I believe ‘twould have been a simpler task.  Anne’s clasping passage was taking me quickly to my end and I did not wish to stop that end from occurring.  My faithful multiplication tables eased my passion sufficiently that I resisted my primal urge, though it required nearly every smidgen of my concentration to accomplish this feat.

Anne had no such instruction, and moments later fell to gasping and crying out as she rode me.  After a final shudder, she settled her weight on my hips and belly.  Looking up Corrine’s back, I saw Anne’s arms circle her neck, and once again heard the wet sounds of their kisses.

As the little contractions that raced through Anne’s passage caressed my shaft and caused me to move into my nine’s, she began to ride again.  

“Remember Richard, Anne shall tell you when.”

I had never learned my tables beyond the ten’s, and thought myself to be in store for a bout with Corrine’s cat.  It was then the opportunity to both control my passion and satisfy my curiosity presented itself, or rather Corrine presented it to me.

Corrine had adjusted her position, I supposed to be more comfortable as she fondled and kissed Anne.  This new position placed her auburn nest directly above my face.  Her scent came to me, the scent of arousal, and my decision was made.

With only slight effort, I was able to raise my head enough to touch her curl-shrouded lips with the tip of my tongue.  I made a tentative lick, then drew my tongue back inside my head.

Corrine’s taste was tart but softly musky.  I sampled her again.  Yes, the flavor was different from any taste I had yet encountered, but delightful to me.  By raising my head a bit further, I was able to slide my tongue between Corrine’s lips.

The texture was absolutely as wonderful as the taste.  My tongue passed over soft, wet ripples, and in passing, caused Corrine to gasp.  I smiled to myself.  This was more enjoyable than using my fingers, and nearly as enjoyable as would have been feeling my manhood in the same place.  I doubled my efforts, and was pleased to feel Corrine move her cunny closer to my mouth.

Though I was enjoying this new experience immensely, I could not hope to ignore the sensations once again building in my loins.  Anne was nearing the point of shuddering spasms again, and quickly brought me to the brink.  Thinking to forestall my end, I pushed my tongue into Corrine as deeply as I could manage given my restraints, then licked firmly up her swollen lips to her pearl.

The effect, though not increasing my control over my impending spurts of seed, caused an amazing effect on Corrine.  She cried out and pushed her lips down onto my face, fairly smothering me.  I licked back down to her entrance and Corrine’s hips began to shake to and fro.  I made one more firm lick to her button and then rubbed it with my tongue.

As Corrine began to shudder, Anne cried out, “Now, Richard, fill me with your seed.”

As if hearing these words itself, though buried deep inside Anne, my manhood surged as the first spurt raced through it and spashed against Anne’s clasping walls.  As the second sped the same course, Corrine cried out and her hips began a rapid rocking over my face.  A trickle of her nectar seeped out onto my tongue, then another.  

Anne began to murmur, then cry out over and over as her body spasmed on my spurting shaft, though my spurts had become mere dribbles by that time.   I had spent, and lay there working my tongue between Corrine’s shaking thighs while Anne rode my softening manhood and made tiny little moans of pleasure.

Both women stopped moving, and a second later I heard giggles from Anne.

“Corrine, I thought you found no pleasure in men?”

“Hush, you ninny.  I was caught up in the happenings of the moment, that is all.  Had you not been crying out so, and kissing me so, I should have not been carried away.”

“I think Richard carried you away quite nicely, judging by the cries from your throat and the vigor with which your cunny rubbed his face.”

Corrine chuckled.

“Yes, I could not control myself.”

“Nor did you wish to, I think.”

“Perhaps where men are concerned, I shall have to make an exception with young Richard here.  Oh!  Richard, what ever are you doing?”

My arms and legs were tingling from the bindings and it was difficult to breath with Corrine sitting on my mouth and nose.  So short was my breath I could not make a sound, but instead, had pinched one of Corrine's distended lips gently between my teeth.  At her question, I attempted to answer, but my words were muffled by the soft, swollen lip in my mouth.  Thankfully, her senses had somewhat returned.

“Goodness, I have smothered him, or nearly so.”  

Corrine rolled to my side and I gasped to suck air into my lungs.  The dizziness left my brain and I smiled.

“Yes, I was smothered, but the experience was a delightful one.”

Corrine slapped me on the arm.

“You should consider yourself fortunate, Richard, for you have ventured where no man has been since I was but a young girl.  The one was enough to convince me my desires lay with the fair sex.”

She smiled then and her voice became softer.

“I must admit, though, that your fortune was also mine.”

Anne chuckled.

“Did I not tell you of the praises my cousin Molly bestowed upon his skills as a lover?  As I said earlier, you should allow yourself to feel his cock at least once.  You would not be disappointed, I assure you.”

“Perhaps another time you might encourage me and I might accept, but the hour is growing late.  Though I would prefer you and Richard to spend the night with me in my new bed, I must refresh myself before my customers arrive.  Do not look sad, Anne.  We shall have other times, and if you enjoy having Richard participate…”  

Corrine laughed.  

“I shall not object too strongly.”

Ah, such an afternoon that was, and such a predictor of my employ with Master Johnson.  I learned many things from both he and Anne, and from Corrine as well, though study with Corrine tended to be a bit on the painful side of pleasure at first.  As I grew to know her better, I discovered another side to the woman.  It was a side she tried to hide in the interests of her business, and a side the opposite of the woman she displayed to the world outside of Anne and myself.