Vanessa: The Vicar's Girl - James Jennings - E-Book

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James Jennings

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Beschreibung

"Vanessa: The Vicar's Girl" is set in a placid rural british village in late 19th century.
The beautiful Vanessa lives quietly with her brother until the day the lustful local vicar takes her in hand.
In a short time, our young and beautiful Vanessa manages to attract other families of the village in her secret community of passion and sin.

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Vanessa: The Vicar’s Girl

James Jennings

Vanessa: The Vicar’s Girl 1880-90James JenningsThis ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy.First edition 2014

Chapter One

The house that stood on the edge of the moorland had a look of total remoteness, as if all within were quiet and ever would be so. White palings, newly-painted, surrounded the frontage and - reaching halfway around the back of the stone-built residence - gave way on either side to a barred gate which led into a paddock where a horse was grazing.

Reining in his own quiet nag, the Reverend Percival Jubstone wondered which of the two new inhabitants of Edgemoore, as it was aptly called, were at home. It would almost surely be Miss Vanessa Markham, he told himself, since her brother would be at his teaching post at this hour. Village gossip, which so often reached his ears via his housekeeper, told him that she was an attractive woman. He hoped it would be so and, having tethered his horse, took the path to the front door and drew upon the bell, hearing it jangle within.

Scarcely a moment passed before the door was opened by a young maid, cap askew and with a cloth in her hand.

'Your Mistress is in?' enquired Percival politely, taking note all at one and the same time of the girl's age, which he judged to be about seventeen, the slimness of her figure and the promising gourds which her black dress revealed.

'Oh, sir, your Reverendship!' Mary uttered, quite taken aback by the appearance of one who seemed to her such a lordly person.

'It is all right, Mary', came a voice from an adjoining room, and therewith appeared Vanessa herself - a comely young woman indeed of perhaps twenty-eight or so, as the Vicar immediately perceived.

'Yes, ma'am', Mary said almost thankfully, for it was her first day at the house and no one had told her how to receive visitors, this in great part being because Miss Markham had expected none as yet. Edging away while trying to give all appearance of not really doing so, Mary succeeded in giving way to both and scuttled thankfully back into the kitchen.

'I thought to call - to make myself known. Forgive me if I have arrived at an inopportune moment', boomed the reverend gentleman.

'Not at all, not at all - pray come in. I am sorry about Mary's ineptitude. She is young and..."

'Untrained?' he interrupted her as they entered the small drawing room that was pleasingly uncluttered. 'Forgive me for having broken across what you may have been about to say, Miss Markham. It is a matter to which I have given much thought, however'.

'Yes?' asked Vanessa in a tone of voice that to some more sensitive souls would have appeared strained. Indicating a comfortable armchair for her visitor, she took up her seat on an equally-well-padded sofa which the Vicar regarded with a professional eye - professional, that is to say, in relation to his private interests, for the arms of the piece of furniture were nobly curved and were winged outwards at an angle which was immediately cogent to his thoughts of how one such as Mary could be put over one of the arms with her bottom well up.

'The-er-yes, the training of young girls. I was about to say, with your permission, that it is most desirable, do you not think?'

'I have not given much thought to the matter, Vicar', responded Vanessa, whose cheeks flushed slightly while - as though to distract herself - she summoned Mary by means of a small silver handbell and ordered tea.

'I have made it already, ma'am, as you wish', said the girl, showing much pride at having anticipated the request.

'You see', declared Vanessa when after but a few moments they were served, 'she is a good girl'.

'In all respects?' asked the cleric with something of a twinkle in his eye, for the more he looked upon his hostess the more he liked. Vanessa might have been described by some as a strapping girl (no pun thereby being intended), for she was but an inch or so shorter than the Vicar. Unclothed, however, her full beauty was revealed: two noble breasts as white as mounds of snow, a subtly-curved belly beneath which a thick triangular thatch gathered around her slit, thighs of columnar splendour, vase-like hips, and a bottom that would have stirred the penis of a statue.

'You touch upon her modesty, I believe - or mine', she murmured, casting her eyes down to the thin bone china of her cup.

'Modesty may be used as a cloak for devilment - I have often known it so - and vice versa'.

'Would you then constantly upbraid one such as Mary?' Vanessa asked defensively. A warm trickle ran through her belly at that moment, which was caused not so much by the tea as by the magnetic look that this tallish man in his middle years - slightly craggy of aspect, but well-dressed withal - cast upon her.

'May I sit with you? We can converse more quietly, my dear?'

Without waiting upon permission, Percival did so and found a warm hip agreeably close to his own. His eyes took in the fetching dimple on her cheek, the sweet corners of her mouth. How many times, he wondered, had those lustrous lips been kissed? How many times, if ever, had a hand - whether male or female - found its way into her corsage to fondle those magnificent orbs which appeared to strain so impatiently through her dress?

'Upbraid?' he asked in a gentle tone. 'No, Miss Markham, such does not have a sufficient strain of strictness that the female needs. There are those I know who use the birch and cause the unveiled bottom to twist and burn. Cries of protest, of alarm, may be heard which in a quiet household are unseemly and may disturb those who had best know least about it. For myself, I employ mainly the tawse. Do you know of such?'

Blushing deeply at his choice of words, Vanessa clutched rather desperately at her cup and gazed straight before her so that naught but her attractive profile was presented to his view. No one had ever spoken to her thus before and she knew not how to reply, though having rather mumbled something was politely asked what she had said.

'I said no', she gulped.

'Ah, then, I better understand, my dear. The tawse is a Scottish instrument of thick broad leather, alike unto a goodly luggage strap, if you will, but split at the instructive end so as to form two fingers. At the moment of their meeting the offered bottom...'

'Oh, sir, I do not think we should speak of such!' Vanessa gasped.

'Ah - I had no idea that you were uninstructed. Truly I had not. Pray forgive me. Are you well accommodated here? Is the residence roomy enough for you?'

'Indeed yes. May I show you around?' Vanessa asked hastily as if she would rather do anything at that moment than continue such a conversation.

'It would be pleasant, yes, and more than that, for I like to think of my parishioners at night at prayer, Miss Markham, and thus do I envisage them - each and all - in their rooms of retirement, the fires lit in winter and a pleasant glow upon the ceiling. Is that not one of the jolliest and cosiest sights?' he asked, assisting her to rise and thereby brushing his hand down one svelte hip in the process.

'I s... s... suppose, yes', the young woman responded. She had not thought to show him anything as intimate as her bedroom, but there seemed no escape from it. And thus a little tour was conducted - first the dining room, then the morning room and the small conservatory whose blooms the Vicar much admired - and then followed the hesitant moment when Vanessa conducted him up the stairs.

In so doing, she distinctly felt his hand pass behind her and pass lightly over and beneath the noble cheeks of her bottom, the which she was quite unable to believe was happening. Being a well-brought-up young lady, she had experienced little of the like before, and most certainly not with a stranger. Such was her modesty, however, that she could not bring herself to remark upon that libertine straying of his palm which, through her gown, her petticoat, and her drawers, could well feel the warm rotundity of her nether cheeks.

As they passed along the landing, the Vicar stole his encroaching fingers a little further beneath her orbs, this causing Vanessa to gulp audibly, though - as he had well anticipated - no word of protest broke from her lips simply because she knew not how to form such. From previous adventures, the wily cleric was well aware that such would be the case and literally guided her by her bottom into the first of several bedrooms, where, as she whispered almost inaudibly, her brother Reginald slept.

'It is next to your own?' came the enquiry.

'Sir, yes, but I do not think...', began Vanessa, finding words at last, for his insurgent fingers were by then pressing the various materials of her clothes and underclothes up into the plump bulge of her bottom in the most possessive way.

'It is wise to have adjoining rooms, my dear, for should you be indisposed or have need, then you may quietly call upon him in the night - is that not so?'

'B... but my room...', stammered Vanessa, whose facial cheeks were bright red while her nether ones could distinctly feel the commanding impress of his hand in a way that disturbed her much.

'Is not so nice as this? Oh, but I am sure it is much prettier. Have no alarm at showing it to me for I frequently have had need to call upon my lady parishioners when they have cause to languish in bed and am in need of such attentions as I can give them. The door is here? Ah yes! I say, what a delightful room! You have a window-seat, I see. I have a great fancy for such. A double bed, too. Far more convenient than a single one, I always think. May I close the door? You were asking me, I believe, about the usages and effects of the tawse'.

'No-no, I was not', Vanessa attempted to declare with some firmness whereat the Vicar boldly encircled her waist - slim, as he found it - and brought her with rather trembling legs to sit beside him on a decidedly bouncy bed.

'We do not wish to be overheard, do we, Miss Markham? I am very well aware of the feminine interest in the subject, much as some young ladies of your own modesty wish to veil it'.

'Yes, yes, I am very modest', Vanessa uttered gratefully at being able to pick up the word.

'Though not so much so, I trust, as you will disdain a serious discussion on the matter? Do you feel faint, my dear? Lie back a moment', urged the Vicar while a whimper of remonstrance issued from Vanessa's lips as the movement of his arm - guiding her with seeming gentleness and yet withal a demanding strength - caused her back to meet the counterpane and her neatly shod feet to dangle off of the floor.

Her lips parted in total wonderment that such a thing could be happening, Vanessa felt his free hand pass so swiftly and deftly up beneath her skirts that before a cry could escape her his palm had soothed around the slightly rough tops of her stockings and then essayed the rich milky skin above.

'Ah, no!' Vanessa gasped. Her shoulders made to rise but sank down once more. Levering his wrist strongly between her resistant legs, Percival found that which he most sought - to wit, the warm mound of her cunny whose furry prominence mounded against the palrn which he commenced rubbing gently through the cotton of her drawers. 'S... sir, I do not w... want!' she protested, turning her head this way and that while the gentle massaging of the heel of his hand against her clitty caused her to grit her teeth and flush right down to her neck.

'Lie still, Miss Markham, or I may need to demonstrate the use of the tawse on you sooner than I had expected', uttered Percival in such an authoritative tone as for a moment caused Vanessa to return to her even more youthful days when the commands of her Papa had been as those of the Deity. With a total sense of disbelief she felt him slide down as though he had dropped something upon the floor. Hence, believing such to be her moment of escape, she made again to rise and was producing the first flustered motions of so doing when both her uncovered legs were seized and - gripped firmly just above the knees by the Vicar's strong hands - were caused to dangle over his shoulders as he swiftly knelt before her.

'HAAAR!' Vanessa cried, though biting her knuckles as she did so lest Mary should hear.

The crafty cleric had counted much upon that and drove his hungry mouth immediately into the crotch of her drawers, feeling thereunder the rolled lips which impressed themselves through the cotton. Arching her back, her eyes wild, and clenching at the bedcover, Vanessa felt his lapping wetly there - indeed, just like a dog's. Bumping her sturdy, well-curved legs upon his shoulders, she gradually felt not only the crotch of her drawers wetting from his saliva but also the exudations that came from her honeypot.

'MUR-MUR-MUR!' she began to moan, much to the joy of the cleric. The tip of his tongue actually caused the few loose folds of her drawers at their most critical juncture to enter between her rolled lovelips, at the peak of which he could distinctly feel her clitoris erecting like a small but eager bud. - 'HOOO-OOOH! NO!' came to his ears, which cry was a further delight to him since he well knew that such was frequently uttered when the very reverse was intended.

Gathering his hands under her bottom, he hastily sought the ties of her drawers and, tugging upon the waistband, brought that garment to descend to Vanessa's knees. His further action was then just as immediate and caught her by surprise as much as it had done other females in the past. Letting her legs slump heavily down, Percival rose and swiftly rolled the dazed young woman upon her face so that he was at last able to view the impressive twin demi-globes of her bottom.

No more lustrous orb had ever met Percival's eyes. The cheeks inrolled with that tight plumpness that produces at their meeting point a faint gingery hue which adds such pleasing contrast to the marbled whiteness of the bulging peach. As such a fruit, so indeed it felt, the cheeks being velvety and firm as he caressed them, parted them and allowed an enquiring finger to run up and down the furrow at whose centre Vanessa haplessly showed her crinkled orifice.

'GOOOOO!' came a wild sob from Vanessa whose hands now clawed forward as if she would drag herself beyond his reach.

That, however, he forestalled by laying one hand firmly in the small of her back and bringing the other with a firm SMACK! on her naked bottom.

'WHAAAAH!' choked she as the stinging impress of his palm and fingers caused a pink hue to stain the otherwise spotless pallor. At the same time, however - as her hips jerked resultantly - Vanessa's awoken clitoris rubbed teasingly upon the slightly ribbed surface of the bedcover, causing her to have two utterly opposing sensations, which merged in the most curious way. At one and the same time her bottom burned and her belly seemed to be melting. Between her legs was a tiny pinpoint of white heat that had as equal an effect upon her as did the impact of that disciplinary palm. Her knuckles tightened and her flushed face was well hid.

All this Percival well expected. Observing the fervent quivering of her nether cheeks, he caressed their hot surfaces suavely and then smacked her again, bringing a 'YEE-EEEK!' from Vanessa that was quieter than her precious utterances. Her hips wriggled wildly and a hissing sound emitted itself from her nostrils.

One more would do her well, the Vicar decided. Her sobbings did not impress him at all, for her legs - having at first kicked rebelliously - now hung limp.

SMACK! came his hand again, bouncing as it did off the resilient moon which with that became an even deeper pink.

'NOOO-HOOO!' Vanessa squealed but once, and then the molten lava which had been gathering within her melted utterly, causing her well-furred pubis to grind itself wildly under the ridged material beneath her as she spilled her milky substance out in fierce little jets which at the last left her quivering, and indeed as if floating upon a roseate cloud.

'I shall attend upon you again tomorrow, my dear, and at this time', she heard distantly and then felt something thrown upon the bed, though could not bring herself to turn her head and reveal even part of her buried face to him - 'You will place it beneath your pillow and there let it stay until I return, Miss Markham', were his departing words.

Scarcely even conscious of where she was at that moment and feeling all the delightful creamy wetness under her, Vanessa lay utterly still as the door closed. Indeed, upon its doing so she did not then immediately rise but remained in a daze of wonderment exactly as Percival intended her to.

Descending the stairs slowly and magisterially, he found Mary hastening into the hall.

'Oh, sir, are you leaving?'

'I am indeed, my girl, and your Mistress desires not to be disturbed. She is in a state of rest, a state of grace indeed', the Vicar announced to the open-mouthed young maid who from his words somehow envisaged Miss Markham as being dressed in angel's attire and floating about her bedroom.

As the door closed upon their visitor, Mary crept to the foot of the stairs and listened, but she could hear not a sound from above and, after a moment's curiosity, returned to her domestic chores.

As for Vanessa, she curled herself up slowly, drawing her legs on to the bed and biting the corner of one of her pillows. Her bottom burned and her cunny tingled still. There was a lump behind her at her hip and she felt blindly with one hand, finding therewith the curled tawse that he had dropped beside her.

Chapter Two

Reginald Markham returned blithely from his first day of teaching at St. Hilda's where there was such a bevy of girls as had faintly but guiltily stirred his loins several times. The movements of his buttocks upon the saddle had but excited his vagrant thoughts more - much as he strove to suppress them - and, despite his thirty-five years, it was with a sense of boyish consciousness that he led his horse into the paddock and waited a long moment until the tingling in his thickened tool had subsided.

Upon his entering the house, Mary came to offer to him what she thought of as a proper curtsey - proper that is to her due station in life - which movement caused her cap, as usual, to come askew and her firm young titties to bobble beneath her dress in the same manner that had met the Vicar's searching eyes.

'Mistress is upstairs, sir, she is resting, in a state of grace, she said', Mary uttered all in one breath and priding herself much on remembering the phrase despite her failure to understand what it meant.

'In a what?' replied Reggie comically, but then seeing the girl's crestfallen expression, he added, 'Yes, of course, Mary. I will go up and make my arrival known and meanwhile a pot of tea would do us all good, would it not?'

'Oh yes, sir!' Mary responded enthusiastically, finding herself apparently included in the plural. Hardly twenty minutes had passed since the Vicar had departed and the Master should have met him on the road, she thought, but then gave herself the extra one that the reverend gentleman must have gone the other way.

Reginald was always a quiet walker (and had frequently been reprimanded in his youth for 'stealing up' on people, albeit unconsciously). Vanessa thus did not hear him ascending and was at that moment not so much in a state of 'grace' as of bewildered fervour. Having kicked off her drawers, she had removed her dress also and had cast it similarly upon the floor, thereafter crawling beneath the bedclothes in an effort to blot out from her mind the outrageous events that had passed. So far from being able to do so, however, her thoughts had dwelt continually on the tonguings, handlings and smackings she had received. Telling herself that she knew not what she was doing, she had closed her eyes, clawed the spare pillow down under the sheet and held it closely up under her cunny where its soft and smooth texture afforded her a distinct if exciting comfort.

It was not until the bedroom door opened that Vanessa appeared to return to her full senses, made to sit up and then - remembering her state of undress - sank quickly down again and peered over the edge of the bedclothes at her brother, who regarded her flushed face and tousled hair with wondering.

'My dear, are you well?' he asked.

The V... V... Vicar came', stammered Vanessa as if that were a sufficient excuse for her condition. 'I mean, he came and then I lay down and then - oh Reggie - I feel so strange!' burst she, producing a veritable flood of tears which caused him such concern that he immediately sat beside her on the bed and passed his hand across her moist forehead.

'What ails you, then?'

'I do not know, honestly I do not and - oh, forgive me', Vanessa uttered as his straying eyes fell to her drawers and crumpled dress.

As Reggie looked, he in turn flushed, for the drawers had by chance fallen in an 'open' position with the frilled legs apart and a distinct patch of moisture showing at the crotch.

'Ah', said he with something of a gurgle in his voice, for it must be said that, being only human, he had frequently heard the mysterious and not uninviting little sounds made by his voluptuously-bodied sister as she undressed. Now and then he had (all despite himself) imagined her attired only in a waist corset or stockings, and had even - with such guiltiness as often came upon him - envisaged her removing the very garment on which his eyes stayed.

'You wish the doctor?' he asked solicitously, a movement of his body then causing the bedclothes to glide down to reveal momentarily to his awoken gaze the creamy gourds of his sister's breasts whereon her pointed brown nipples peaked sharply and indeed, as it seemed to him, almost beseechingly.

'Oh no, no, no, it is nothing like that. I will be well tomorrow', said Vanessa unwittingly and then recalled the Vicar's parting words with such a start that she failed not only to cover her luscious titties but had quite forgotten the tawse which lay beside her and upon which Reggie's hand next fell.

'What is this?' he asked, curiously fingering the thick but pliable leather.

'Oh, I don't know! Why do you keep asking questions?' Vanessa responded all but hysterically, then seeing his face fall she added more quietly, 'It is just a strap, I suppose. Mary found it behind a cabinet'.

'A strange one, indeed, for the end is split and there is no buckle to it I will take it downstairs if you wish'.

So saying, and being in fact rather at a loss to account for his sister's unusual behaviour, Reggie drew it up in the same instant that Vanessa turned to reach for it, with the result that one exposed and heavy tit brushed silkily against his hand, causing her nipple to stub against it in the process.

'Oh, Reggie!' Vanessa said as if in great dismay, and he withdrawing his hand hastily if regretfully.

'S... sorry!' Reggie stammered, 'I will-er-that is to say, see if tea is made and then-er-yes...'

And so mumbling and not a little pink about the cheeks, Reggie made his departure, leaving behind the tawse which Vanessa quickly thrust under the pillow beneath her head. Thankful that her brother had not observed that the other headrest was missing, she drew it up from between her extremely warm and moist thighs and lay back for a moment with a sigh, her bottom stirring on the sheet beneath her as if in memory of the most astonishing day in her life.

Reggie meanwhile had sauntered into the kitchen where Mary was in process of lifting the kettle from the hob. The deuce of it was that his prick had thickened up again and he wondered whether the girl would see it. She had a fine young bottom, he told himself, and he had viewed quite a number that day, albeit clothed.

'That was a funny strap you found, Mary', he said while she poured hot water into the teapot.

'I, sir? I didn't find one'.

'The one with a split end, you know, that you found behind a cabinet', said Reggie patiently.

'No, sir, honestly, cross my heart and hope to die - I didn't find nothing, I didn't', Mary said in the manner of one being accused of a great crime.

'Ah, well then, frightfully sorry, must have misunderstood', came the mumble of one who was even more confused.

'I 'spect the Vicar found it or left it or something like that, if the Mistress didn't', Mary offered with bright innocence, this causing Reggie to gawp somewhat for he could not imagine what a reverend gentleman would be doing with such a thing about his person. There was clearly something odd afoot which he could not fathom. Or at least not for a long moment. In fact it was not until he was sipping his tea that a distant memory swam back to him. He had perhaps been only about twelve at the time and had been staying with Vanessa at their Uncle Frederick's house. Running indoors from the garden to get himself a glass of water, Reggie had heard smack-slapping noises and squeals emanating from the morning room and had tiptoed towards it to see what was afoot.

Just at that moment his aunt had swept out of the selfsame room, her face not a little flushed, and behind her he had glimpsed - but for a brief moment - one of the servant girls bent over the table, her skirt to her hips and his uncle standing behind and to one side of her and steadily strapping her naked bottom with - yes! - by jove, that strap had looked much the same as the one on Vanessa's bed.

Thoroughly bemused, Reggie put his cup down and took his quiet way up the stairs once more, this time surprising his sister in an even greater fashion. Vanessa felt both humiliated and exhilarated and could not make up her mind which feeling was uppermost, much as she had tried to make the former the stronger emotion. Thus she had swung her legs out of the bed and sat for a moment holding them open precisely at the moment that Reggie made his entry.

'Oh! Oh, Reggie!' Vanessa ejaculated, though too late to hide that which his eyes had never before fallen upon - which is of course to say the fur of her thicket, beneath which he could just glimpse her pouting slit - 'Really, Reggie!' she expostulated, jumping up and thereby causing the lacy hem of her petticoat to flow upwards and outwards even more revealingly so that the full vision of her stockinged thighs, her hips, her nest and part of her bulbing bottom were all to be blissfully seen before she hastily tugged the garment down again.

'I say, Vanessa, that strap!' said Reggie who was not to be put off and indeed felt the blood trilling in his veins at the revelations of his sister's luscious semi-nudity.

'Strap? Strap? Oh, go away! Really, you shouldn't see me like this, Reggie!' protested Vanessa who could not fail to see in turn the protrusion that was by then so marked beneath his trousers.

'Well, Mary did not find it - that was all I was going to say', her brother answered shamefacedly.

'Ho! Is that all? I found it on my bed and I thought she did', Vanessa replied all too quickly and could have bitten off her words, for in view of the fact that only one visitor had appeared that day the conclusion to Reggie was that something very odd had occurred.

'Your bottom is red, Vanessa', he blurted.

'What? Eh? Reggie, how dare you say such a thing to me, and how dare you look! Mary, Mary - please come and help me dress', Vanessa called out frantically, wishing even more to be rid of this conversation than that her brother should have seen her naked derriere. Backing away and holding her petticoat tightly across the front of her thighs, she watched then dry-mouthed as he grabbed at the tawse which was coyly showing its tail from under her skewed pillow and made his exit with the air of one who had filched the Crown Jewels while Vanessa's beseeching 'Reggie!' followed him down the stairs.

En route, he inevitably bumped into Mary who was hastening up in some wonder.

'Mary, I say, I believe she is in an excitable state. Do what you can to quieten her', he whispered.

'Yes, sir', answered the maid conspiratorially. In passing him her thigh sidled against Reggie's erection, the which caused both of them to start and he to fear that Mary would cry out. Instead, though, she bit her lip as though to conceal a not displeased grimace and even offered him a pert little grin over her shoulder as she went to enter Vanessa's room.

The minx, Reggie thought, but the deuce of it would be that she would now wonder why his prick was up, particularly in view of Vanessa's state of undress. Life was getting oddly complicated all of a sudden and he had no desire to stay in the house for a while. Besides which, he was holding the damned strap, and Mary would have seen it.

The only person left to see was the Vicar himself and it was to the Vicarage that Reggie took himself, though scarce knowing what he was going to say on arriving, and with his spirits rather descending the closer that he rode there. Even so, as he told himself, he could but say that he was returning the cleric's visit and see what, if anything, he had to say about Vanessa's strange behaviour.

Knocking hesitantly upon arrival, he was let in by Maude, the housekeeper - a buxom woman who kept herself 'in trim', as she always declared and was frequently pumped by the Vicar's powerful cock when he had no one else to attend to. For such services, Maude was well rewarded, and more so since she occasionally assisted in the 'conversion' of girls who came to prepare themselves for communion or something of the like.

One such at that very moment was immured with the Vicar, and Reggie heard a distinct squeak coming from behind the study door.

'I believe as the Reverend is engaged at the moment, sir', said Maude with considerable understatement, 'But if you was to wait!...'

'Who is it, Maude?' then boomed the Vicar's voice whereat the housekeeper uttered Reggie's full name, this producing a momentary thoughtful silence until the order came, 'Then show him in'.

'Oh-wer!' uttered the young girl who at that very moment struggled to push down her dress even as the door was opened, whereat the visitor was accorded the most fetching of visions - albeit momentary - of the slim legs and pouting pussy of one scarce seventeen whose face was bright red and her bottom pink.

'You were naughty and you have learned your lesson, have you not, Sally?' the Vicar asked of her before addressing Reggie.

A sound came from the girl that might have been yes or no. Reggie was not sure which. Her head bowed, the girl rushed passed him, though - unseen by him - was quickly gathered into the arms of Maude who swiftly bustled her into the drawing room, there to give her what she fondly called 'a little talk', which was more in praise of Priapus than of prayer, though always delicately put and which caused most of the girls to believe that the finest anointment they could receive was that from the thick and spermaceous emissions of the Vicar's prick.

'Ah, yes, dear fellow - how nice of you to return my visit. A whiskey, eh? Or a brandy - or maybe a glass of wine', Percival began, flooding his visitor with words while causing him to subside into a chair. Eccentrically, or not, and without waiting for a reply, he thereupon dowsed two glasses with a spirited measure of malt whiskey and placed one into the rather dazed younger man's hand.

'V... Vanessa...', stumbled Reggie who had no idea now of what he was going to say and whose pocket was bulging with the rolled tawse.

'Yes?' enquired the cleric gently.

"Well, I... that is to say... odd state I found her in, and - pray forgive me, sir, this curious strap', Reggie said, producing it. Swallowing hastily from his glass while Percival waited patiently, he added as though in compromise, 'I say, did you find her odd?'

At that, the Vicar seated himself on the front edge of his desk and gazed down benignly at his visitor.

'May I speak to you, if not as a father, than as an older and more experienced man?' he asked.

At that, Reggie rather wilted and nodded.

'A cigar? Have a cigar, dear boy, and I will join you. The pleasures of enveloping oneself in fragrant smoke are infinite. May I call you Reggie? I address all my parishioners as fondly as I can. Here, let me light it for you - if the dashed lucifer works and, yes, it does. Rather good, eh? From Cuba, I am told, or is it Havana - I am never quite sure. You were saying?'

'About, about my sister, yes', Reggie stumbled and rather wished he had not come.

'Vanessa, is it not?' the Vicar asked as if all about him were a distant memory. Puffing on his cigar and leaning forward in the most confidential manner, he murmured, 'We may speak frankly? Man to man? As a learned man yourself, I am sure you treasure directness of speech rather than evasions. She was - and I tell you this in all confidence, dear boy - in heat. She was in such a state of undress as would have beguiled a saint. I saw naught for it but to cool her ardour as one must with many young ladies - to wit, by smacking her bottom. Oh, I do not deny it. The tawse is mine, or rather is your sister's now, for I left it with her. And to what purpose, eh?'

'I say! I really don't know', blurted Reggie who had never heard the like of such a conversation.

'Consider, Reggie, that she is a spinster, and a remarkable figure of one, I must say. Such females deny themselves that of which they are most in need. I have known them to open their legs and rub themselves against bedroom doors in their secret frenzies'.

'Have you?' asked his listener in astonishment.

'You found her unclothed - without her drawers on?' came the countering question during which the Vicar's gaze so piercingly encountered Reggie's that the latter blushed. A hand was laid as if comfortingly upon his shoulder. For a moment Reggie felt exceedingly small.

'Were I to say more, dear boy, you might take great offence, though I find myself having to advise many in such matters', the Vicar sighed heavily and sent another bloom of smoke into the air.

Floundering for something to say, but in all the circumstances finding little to doubt in the speaker's words, Reggie muttered, 'Yes, I suppose', and took another hasty swallow, 'I suppose she was jolly embarassed', he added for want of anything else to say and feeling thereby that he had at least put up some defence on his sister's part.

Again the heavy voice fell about his ears.

'What is important, Reggie, is that she acceded to her punishment, brief as I caused it to be. Your maid offered no complaint to you of any distress on the part of her Mistress?'

'Oh no, none', Reggie responded truthfully, and that giving him something more to chew upon, for it was quite remarkable if Vanessa had her gorgeous bottom smacked and scarce a sound heard.

'The truth, you see - the ultimate truth with all females - is that they know what they need but will never confess it. Being dealt with in a manner that one might call parental - stem at the very least - they succumb. Their bottoms are dutifully though often rebelliously offered. The hand or the strap burns and stirs them. Their hips churn, their titties harden. Did you observe her nipples and, mayhap, the excited state in which they remained?'

'I-er-yes', Reggie responded all too hastily and then regretted the confession.

There are conclusions to be drawn therefrom, albeit only in the deepest confidence that now exists between us and which I swear will never stray beyond these walls. Do I have need to say what they are?'

'That... that she will require more of - er...'

'Precisely, dear boy, precisely, for she has reached that height of tempestuous desire that may be quelled only by the most manly applications of two weapons - the one artificial, such as this leather instrument, and the other which is natural to our beings. I refer, bluntly - since I must - to the cock. Has she not been put to it? It is a dire sin to leave a full-hipped woman thus. Unless, of course, you wish to have these daily upheavals and alarms?'

'I do not know. That is to say, I am not sure', stammered Reggie whose ears burned as much as did his mind at such frank talk.

'Better that I should have come straight to the point than to have fenced around. It is the removal to a new house which sets them going, doncherknow. New rooms, new beds, desires arising. There have been many such hereabouts in these past years - daughters, sisters and young wives, and all must needs be attended to. Regular juicings are what they need - regular juicings. Such as are unmarried, and even some whose husbands do not do their duty regularly, must have their due. Some show great promise upon being tawsed and having their cunnies or their bottoms plugged. What an advantage you do have, old chap, at St. Hilda's, have you not?'

The question at first jolted Reggie who gave a rather blurred impression of not having thought about it, though indeed he had.

'There are some among them who will come to me for various - er - preparati [...]