Julias first fuck
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By Command Of Julia's InvitationChapter 11 free porn video
Creed crawled to the feet of the mature spinster, his cock boning erect at the prospect of serving her, eagerly coaxed toward her feet with the whip held by a delighted Lizzy. The ginger girl had acquired the services of Julia’s pet on a day free from the rigours of driving her cab, his Mistress having an appointment at Arachne House with Madam Ella Hempleton. Miss Beryl Frobisher was new to the pleasures of dominating males, though the reason she had remained a spinster was key to the sexual enlightenment she was about to experience.
An upright and dignified woman of some substance, she had controlled the sexual urges which brought on a certain awareness to her unmolested cunt, and the hardening of the broad nipples which graced her ample breasts. She abhorred the notion of being dictated to by any male, and though she’d had affectionate encounters with the softer members of that gender, her dignified manner and sense of what was deemed proper, had always resulted in those relationships coming to an end; she curbing those desires to make her intentions to take absolute control of the male clear, and never wholly sure of their accepting it, such were the prudish ways of the social ethic she was bound to. she could never cope with marrying, and being seen as the property of any male, as was the accepted notion of the Victorian era of her younger days.
Things had moved on somewhat, since the days of her youth, but those puerile restrictions still held her captive despite the more risqué elements of society that were emerging, and she felt that time had passed her by, and though still haunted by those occasions on which lewd thoughts had her cunt tingling, accepted that she was now doomed to remain an old maid. Having escaped the rigours of child bearing, and the other physical excesses and labours of married life, she remained very shapely and attractive for her years however; generously plump in the correct areas, broad hips which sported a sublimely curved rear - as was keenly acknowledged and demonstrated by the stance of Creeds cock, as he ventured in servile homage on all fours toward her feet.
Whenever the whim took her fancy, she’d encourage those tingling sensations by travelling to such places as Paddington railway station, and seating herself at one of the benches toward the darker rear of the establishment, farthest from the platforms, but still frequented by the bustle of human life ... especially those working women of the streets who effected their liaisons there. Un-noticed by them, she’d soon come to recognise and admire the characters of some of them, sometimes spending hours there in order to witness and indulge her fantasies with the thrill of those liaisons, on those intended meetings being interrupted by the appearance of a uniformed member of the constabulary, which irked her day all to often.
The tingling would peak wonderfully on a sighting of some of the more mature women who’d she’d come to recognise; some obviously little younger than her, and their stern stance when approached in a furtive and cautious manner by prospective male customers, indicating beyond any doubt that the service required would be held under the strictest obedience to the feminine party.
On several occasions she had witnessed the arrival of a portly and awkward looking male, obviously hopelessly inadequate of receiving the pleasures he sought with his wife - if he possessed one - receive the curt and contemptuous smile of a particularly tarty and spiteful looking mature woman with whom his meetings were no doubt habitual. On one such occasion, Miss Frobisher had the need to feign her ignorance of the liaison by appearing to be reading a copy of the Times she sat holding, whilst the portly male looked furtively about him on having received some command from the woman ... then quickly sank to his knees in public before her, and though rising again rapidly in the hope that no other had seen it, his blush at the rigour of his shaming was still evident as the two departed to know her pleasure. The vision had her cunt bulge uncontrollably, her envy of those women, tempered only by her thrill in seeing the liberty of their sexual desires.
Her outings developed into an erotic ritual, in which she’d visit the candle department of a furnishings shop in the city before returning home. She’d always purchase one of the thicker and less ornate ones, typical of those seen in churches. On occasion, the female assistant would give her a knowing smile on packaging it, seeming to sense that the broadly girthed cylinder of wax would never likely see the ignited state of its intended purpose. Beryl loved the feel and warmth of the wax across the slot of her lubricated cunt; easily moulded to a generous dome at one end, it retained its firm rigidity, yet somehow retained a life-like warmth after being immersed in tepid water for a few minutes before her cunt enjoyed its slipping and probing. Her orgasms were lusty and satisfyingly wholesome as she fantasised on the outcomes of those liaisons.
It was on returning from one such venture that she had a chance meeting with Lizzy, one which would drive her to further contact which would change her life forever, taking it to blissful heights that no candle could ever provide.
Lizzy saw the not unattractive but otherwise indifferent but respectable woman, lift her arm half heartedly to hail her moving cab. Miss Beryl Frobisher would normally have walked to the nearby rank in order to acquire transport, but the vigour of her hidden lust that day, had her ignore the normal code of her remaining as incognito as possible, such was her urgency to feel her back on the silk sheets of her bed, and have that candle grace her cunt as she held her broad thighs high. She was taken aback a little, on seeing that the cabbie was a somewhat pretty ginger girl, with a beautifully white complexion, not one of the warty faced and haggard looking males that normally rode on high. If this took her aback, what happened next would absolutely astound her.
On the cab being drawn to a halt, Beryl bent to pick up her bag, and as she did so, an arrogant looking male brushed past her and shouted up at the bemused Lizzy, before jumping into the cab.
“Paternoster Square cabbie ... and make sure you’re quick about it.” Beryl seethed as she stood on the pavement, the ire interfering with her sexual blossoming, but this was soon to be reinforced in a most satisfying way. As she turned and resolved to make her way to the rank, the ginger girl called down to her, her face a calm as though the action she was about to take, was as routine as taking a fare.
“One moment Madam, I believe this is your hire.” Miss Beryl Frobisher felt a welcome return to her prior sensual status, on watching the shapely ginger girl place her long whip down, and pick a broad and spiteful looking, leather braided riding crop from beside her on the seat, and show the delightful curves of her femininity in tight jodhpurs as she descended to the road. Above the clamour of people passing by, she heard the gasp of the male within the cab as Lizzy entered and shut the door behind her. She moved closer to the cab, out of the way of the oblivious human traffic passing by, on hearing several more gasps accompanied by the sound of that crop impacting against flesh.
The mature woman pressed her nose to the veiled cab window, and was shocked to an almost instantaneous surge at her crotch, and the stiffening of her nipples at what she heard and saw. The male cowered on his knees on the floor between the seats, his back to the far door, a hand held high in a vain attempt to deflect the blows from Lizzy’s crop. The flame haired girl showing the adult male just who was in charge.
“Make sure I’m quick about it? ... I’ll make sure you never treat a lady like that again!” As the blows continued, Beryl saw the utter bemusement on his face as he managed to pull on the door handle and tumbled out into the road, just avoiding being trampled by a horse-drawn omnibus. He picked up his hat and departed quickly, as the bold girl stood sneering at him. Beryl opened the door her side, and gaped in amazement at Lizzy.
“I can’t thank you enough, but what if he should report the incident to a constable ... you certainly gave him what he deserved, I think you may have marked him.” Lizzy detected her satisfaction in the way she uttered the second half of her statement, and gave her a warm smile.
“What ... and admit to another male that he’s been shown his place by a girl? ... besides, I think he may have enjoyed it ... lots of men do.” Lizzy saw the excitement in her eyes, which showed a little more than just her gratitude for what had happened, the pursing of her lips and the heaving of her breasts in the formal dress she wore, inviting mischief from the redhead in the company of woman she’d never met before.
“ ... oh yes, I expect he’d appreciate a thorough caning, and it’d have been a real pleasure in awarding him it ... it always is.” She watched the mature woman twitch and pull a stern face as her mind dwelt in that thought, unable to hide her pleasure in it. Beryl’s cunt oozed with a mischief of her own, which prompted a response which overruled the pompous dignity of her social standing.
“Oh ... you, err ... know men who like that sort of thing?” Lizzy smiled, and wiggled her superb backside in the tight leggings provocatively, as she stepped through the cab door and turned to her chosen fare, her tart delight at having a woman know she was sexually dominant, adding an extra thrill to her day.
“Oh, of course ... and the women who find a real pleasure in awarding it ... they’re such good company, and there’s more of them who find fulfilment through it than you’d ever believe.” Beryl sighed at the girl’s pert pleasure in showing her honesty, her cunt raging for the slip of that candle now, also desperate to grasp the opportunity that this pretty girl could offer, but not yet daring to. Lizzy’s cunt was nicely aroused too, as she smiled at the minor triumph of having an unknown woman of apparent social standing, know she was part of a society which might fill her with envy.
“So where is it Madam would like to go?” Miss Beryl Frobisher wanted with all her heart to say, ‘take me to wherever those women are’, but she was not quite bold enough ... not yet.
“Oh ... err ... take me to Queen’s Gardens, Bayswater ... please.” Lizzy smirked as she mounted the seat of her cab, she knew exactly where Queen’s Gardens were, without the need for the suffix, Bayswater, but knew of the need of such women to express the need to flaunt the name of the more upmarket districts in which they lived. Her cunt tingled as she dwelt on the thought of using that crop, her nicely expressed camel-toe now taking in the breeze, and thought on how that address might be very appropriate for her passenger, as her thoughts tinkered with the pleasure she’d shown in her actions. She was more than sure her satisfaction with it was not purely in it appeasing her indignance.
Beryl’s temptations had been severely tested by the experience, and she delved into her bag to stroke at the stiff and smooth feel of the candle, and let a soft gasp escape from her red lips as the cab clattered on with the world visually passing her by. She wrestled with her long silken skirts and slipped the candle up to tease at her wanting clitoris, rising in prominence in its urgency through her now thoroughly moist winceyette underwear; just a taste, she promised herself, of the erotic pleasures that her nakedness on silk sheets would soon be enjoying. Her darkly pleasured thoughts on the outcome of the male’s liaison at Paddington, were now eclipsed supremely by the private show she’d been awarded, and gnawing promise of what might just be, if she were bold enough to make a more open acquaintance of the delightful ginger girl, whose cab vibrating upon the frequent cobbled stretches of road, aided the blissful sensations the candle offered her cunt.
That visual demonstration of the world passing her by, as her sight through the veiled window caught so many women hand in hand with men ... males they might well be firmly in charge of when secreted away in a domestic situation of erotic bliss, brought her close to orgasm as the familiarity of the streets close to hers came into view. She was now determined to risk her reputation, and resolved to somehow liaise with the pert redheaded girl.
Lizzy had dwelt long on the finely attractive woman’s reactions too, and found the idea of the sport of seeing if she could tease more of what had been indicated by her, a thrill in itself. As she heard the tap against the woodwork through the seat below her, which gave notice of their arrival at her address, the excited redhead screwed her puffy red lips together on viewing the fine Georgian properties, and dismounted her seat to alight to the pavement, rather than remain high up in receiving payment; her determination to befriend her, as potent as her passenger’s thoughts. Beryl remained seated for a moment, wrestling with what to say, and was surprised by the door being opened by her feminine driver; a most unusual detraction from the usual habits of the normally lazy cab drivers.
Lizzy made Miss Frobisher’s next step toward the sensual bliss she craved, so infinitely easy, her warm smile begging further questions from the mature woman, as she stepped with one leg up to the cab, boldly displaying the pronounced symbol of her femininity in the tightly stretched material at her crotch.
“I take it madam’s journey today was satisfactory, and that the circumstances of your securing it, even more so ... it’s certainly given me a certain appetite somewhere, and my retelling of it to my distinguished lady friends will have them eager to know more about you, given your obvious pleasure in it ... though I’d be more than discreet about your address of course.” Beryl’s breasts heaved, the nipples hard through her tight top, betraying the excitement brought on by the candle now secrete in her bag, and the window of opportunity presented to her. As she feigned seeking her purse from the bag in order to pay the fare on its announcement, she probed the girl on her mention of ‘distinguished’.
“These women ... they err ... are employed as per you ... cabbies etcetera?” She blushed a little at the impertinence of her own question, though Lizzy took no offence whatsoever at her guarded question, fully understanding how a woman of her standing would feel a little uncomfortable, solely in the company of working women. Beryl’s momentary tension was relieved by Lizzy’s smirk.
“Oh no ... I’ve been very fortunate in being received into their fold, though all women are seen as equals by them ... for instance, one of the women owns a house not far from here, overlooking Kensington Gardens.” Beryl had always looked on those nearby properties with some envy, despite the grandiosity of the more than adequate dwelling in which she lived. She posed a question, the answer to which she already knew, but just wanted to enjoy the confirmation of.
“ ... and she ... she is of a similar disposition of yourself, where men are concerned?” Lizzy’s pert feminine cockiness spilled over in the delighted tone of her reply.
“Oh yes ... very much so ... like me and all those other regal ladies who’ve been so kind in accepting me as one of their own ... she owns a male whom she enjoys walking around on a leash in her rear garden, just as you would a dog ... she proposes to walk him through Kensington Gardens that way one day, and the strict obedience she’s enjoyed enforcing, makes him yearn for that day to come.” Beryl now panted uncontrollably, her cunt wet with excitement, allowing her to overcome her pompous veil of dignity.
“Oh, I should so dearly love to know the affection of a male under those circumstances ... and to be party to such women too...” Lizzy grinned and took the bag from her.
“ ... then so you shall ... perhaps you’ve left your purse at home, and would like to pay me indoors ... a cup of tea and a little further chat will suffice in payment.”
Lizzy spent more than a couple of minutes with Miss Beryl Frobisher, as the mature woman opened her heart to her, and related the trials of her life, and those desires which haunted her. Lizzy was more than just sympathetic, and enthralled by the prospect of the liberty she would now award her. The die was cast, and with the full blessing of Julia Mountford, Miss Frobisher was to be obliged with a taste of the pleasures which were long overdue her, and which would be soundly appreciated by Nathaniel Creed.
On the grand day that Lizzy had since arranged with Beryl, the utmost secrecy was to be applied in fashioning her first encounter and satisfying triumph over a submissive male. The cab would be drawn up at the rear of Miss Frobisher’s property, away from as many prying eyes as possible, but just that element alone would not suffice in providing the perceived innocence of the cab’s arrival; Creed was not to enjoy just the novel humiliation of knowing the pent up sexual desires of a woman as she unleashed her dominance for the first time, he was to enjoy a sublime and novel humiliation of his own, in securing the success of the deeply erotic task; the spiteful giggles of the two pert maids who shepherded the summoned pet into Julia’s grand dressing room on all fours, giving hint of the humiliation to come.
The sincerely curt smiles that greeted the naked and servile male, from his Mistress Julia, Lizzy, Madam Laura Wentworth and her ever excited maid, Charity, broadened as they watched him gape and erect fully on seeing the two maids go and stand facing him ... either side of a long flowing black dress with white maid’s bib, which stood on a tailor’s dolly, awaiting its wearer. His reaction to the obvious outcome had them all nicely aroused; of course, there were outrageous men who went about in the guise of women in those days, satisfying their lusts for the feeling of femininity, but Creed was not one of those. His gasp at the humiliation he was to suffer by the enforcement of dominant women, gave them a deliciously spiteful thrill, and his boning cock told them that his inner desire to know the cutting humiliation of being seen that way, would add a fine edge to the display of sorrowful obedience he’d award a new member of their fold.
The presence of Madam Wentworth and her inherently spiteful maid, in attendance in lieu of a visit to Madam Ella Hempleton’s temple of correction with Julia, added extra spice to the humiliation he was to endure; the nature of the mature woman’s ascendency to widowhood, and the youthful Charity’s vigorous sexual appreciation of that lushly erotic scenario, had had him empty his balls in a zenith of pure ecstasy in homage to their demonstration of absolute dominance. Their witnessing his humbling and humiliation in another demonstration of one of the consequences of total obedience to womanhood, had him rigid in anticipation of the shaming he now faced.
Julia sneered with contempt as he cowered reluctantly, but maintained the rigidity of his manhood, on being shown a corset and specially made heeled ankle boots, no expense spared in their manufacture, she feigning a sympathy, edged with spiteful delight, with the pleasing shame he faced, and would endure in total obedience.
“Oh come come my dear Creed, you’ll soon warm to the pleasures of being feminised, and no-one will recognise you when paraded in public ... but we’ll know, and you know it’s only fitting, given the task you’ve been set...” She used all her strength in flexing the whale-bone corset before his eyes, letting it snap back to its unforgiving curvature, giving good notice of the restriction it was to offer his flesh.
“Oh yes Creed my sweet ... you’ll look sweet indeed when presented to a woman whose long contempt for masculinity, hungers to release the raw spite of freshly released dominance upon you.” She handed the corset to the maids, who descended upon him eagerly, wrapping the restrictive garment about his torso, the women’s cynical laughter aiding the sustaining of his keen erection as both they and he enjoyed the masochism induced by the corset’s application. Creed fought for breath as one of the maids put her foot to his back as she pulled the laces tight, the lower reaches of his lungs and lower rib cage squashed inward and upward in creating the semblance of a feminine waist.
It was convenient that Creed was not the tallest of males. The fact invoking the delight of the women in seeing him totter in the heeled boots, was emphasised with spiteful cynicism on his taking his first steps in the tight footwear whilst ushered with a cane toward the dress. It was noted that he had the stature of a typical governess, but without the strict authority that such a position demanded; a taller example of womenfolk, and the dress would provide a sufficiently passable image. Creed needed a cursory swipe with the cane to encourage his obedience in being fitted, his miniscule sign of hesitancy, arousing the women as they watched the long black dress lifted over him, and secured tightly at the rear.
Creed’s cock pulsed beneath the silky folds of the dress as he was first gagged with a knotted silken scarf, then masked with with a white kerchief covering his nose and lower face, tight black gloves pulled on to diminish the masculinity of his hands, and finally, a wide hat with a dark hanging veil, not unlike that such as would be preferred by a bee-keeper, was utilised to promote the assurance of the presence of a female to all who enjoyed the debacle. Julia sneered with pleasure as the women applauded the maids final fussing with the hat, one of them tilting it to an offset angle to render that final touch of femininity.
“There! My boy makes such a pretty maid ... do come and see how you look.” She took his hand and walked him to the full length mirror, around which Madam Wentworth and the others eagerly gathered, and their curt and spiteful pleasure at having him see what he’d been transformed into, magnified his shaming exquisitely. Creed’s exposure as a submissive male, had been exploited with lustful vigour by Julia and her dominant friends on his journey to crushing submission, from the blissful awakenings of his lust and the tingling of his anus on being seen to kiss Julia’s feet for the first time, through whippings under a chorus of feminine laughter, and spending his seed in absolute surrender whilst hanging bound and noosed by his feminine betters as they enjoyed taking him close to death ... he’d known the pleasures of many stringent and cutting humiliations, but nothing cut into him like the rich vein of humiliation he now endured.
The women knew exactly how he’d feel at this delightful reduction of what remained of his beaten masculine ego, and thoroughly enjoyed his trembling in utter shame on seeing his reflection. In an era where fashion ensured there was not the remotest chance of mistaking the gender of an individual, Creed now went as a corset bound, and finely dressed woman, and his mumblings of despair and submissive aura through the gag had those women lushly aroused at their triumph. Julia added the warmth of her spite to his feelings, as the leering women enjoyed his shaming with satisfied smiles which complemented his reflection.
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