The Education of Miss Katrina Parke

The Education of Miss Katrina Parke

A tattered coach-for-hire pulled to a stop in front of the fine London townhouse, and after a moment its side-door creaked open, allowing a young lady dressed in her finest to clamber from the hansom cab to the cobbled street and step to the pavement while keeping the hems of her dress from the dirt below. Miss Katrina Parke, niece of Sir Archibald Parke the importer, paid the driver a coin, reaching her gloved hand up carefully to his out-stretched hand.

She gazed up at the porticoed entrance. Beyond those grand doors lay her future, and an uncertain process over which she had no control. Her rich uncle, now her guardian following the untimely death of her parents, had decided that she needed training in order to become a better prospect for marriage to a suitable young gentleman of means. Her uncle's philosophies were a strange mix of conservative authority and non-conformist opinions, she thought. But he was footing the cost, and when the head of the household insisted, women had no choice.

So here she was for her first appointment with her uncle's choice of mentor, Dr Richards; a celebrated sexologist, she thought perhaps she had heard her uncle say. In truth, she had stood in her uncle's library several weeks ago, in front of the large desk behind which he spent much of his time accepting client visits or receiving mail, simply stunned by his unexpected announcement, and she had not taken in much beyond the headlines concerning marriage and training.

Back in her bedroom that day she had wondered if she would be introduced to keeping household accounts, or maybe the purchasing of supplies. But why would a doctor waste his time instructing her on those subjects? They were the matters that perhaps a governess or a finishing academy would deal with. She herself might have become a governess, except that Sir Archibald had never produced any offspring, let alone an heir, for her to tutor even though she was proficient in grammar and literature, the classics and Latin.

Sir Archibald was naturally more concerned about the destiny of his estate and now that of her deceased parents, and of course the running of his empire, for he was very involved in its daily business; brokering deals between ship captains and London warehousemen for exotic goods that entered England from the Orient, as well as taking his cut for financing and planning each sea trip.

And as she recalled that other word "sexologist" -- a very new-fangled kind of word but with a very recognisable core -- she was left perplexed and apprehensive, yet still ignorant of what lay before her. She could not imagine what might be asked of her, but she was panicking that her intimate body - a body that had developed womanly aspects over several years until now at eighteen had a shapely and well-proportioned form -- would be subjected to indignities under the guise of medical practice. In truth no man had ever seen her uncovered, nor embraced her except chastely while whirling around the ballroom back at her parents' estate, and on those occasions she had been still a girl, undeveloped and gracile.

What was worse, Katrina suspected -- no, truthfully, she absolutely knew -- that she would sensibly and obediently perform everything this doctor instructed her to do, because she had always seemed unable to do anything in terms of rebellion or resistance. It was just the way she had been brought up; not by coercion but by reasoning, and both she and her younger sister had grown up somewhat retiring and obedient, but certainly not cowed. Both were intelligent and inquisitive thinkers, and she had the advantage of being well-born, her father being of the English aristocracy and her mother a minor French countess. It was ironic that her father had been brought down by a lowly highwayman, who had callously filled both her parents with leadshot, and who had subsequently been hanged beside the Thames before being quartered and cast into a mass grave somewhere near Newgate Prison.

Her parents had been affectionate, and they engaged with their daughters and their education, which was unusual for families of wealth, where the custom was to banish their offspring to the ministrations of wetnurses, maids and then governesses. But in contrast her uncle was a cantankerous, rich merchant who brooked no argument against what he wanted to happen. He had been used to getting his own way all his charmed life, and his pathetic wife offered little safety for the two young nieces, unwelcome responsibilities for his household.

Nevertheless, this was her duty; it was the wish and command of her guardian, and she could understand his reasoning, so although without knowing what was involved, Katrina had to trust to her personal angels to keep her safe.

Blinking a couple of times, she took a deep breath and started to ascend the stone steps to where a brass knocker awaited. After a couple of raps she heard footsteps and the door was opened by a bookish looking young man in frockcoat, breeches and buckled shoes.

"You must be Miss Parke," he exclaimed. At her nod, he continued. "Samuel Orr, the doctor's assistant and secretary, at your service. Thank you for being punctual."

She took his offered hand, which lingered exactly the right amount, with the correct pressure, a short squeeze.

"The doctor is waiting, so let me take you through to his consulting room. That is, unless you need to visit the water closet or powder room first?"

Although Katrina felt quite nervous, her bladder system did not react that way, so they proceeded down a panelled corridor; a knock on the wooden door labelled with the doctor's full name -- Dr Jeremiah Richards and some letters of qualification -- bringing a call from within.

"Please enter, Samuel."

The door swung open, and as the assistant announced her, Katrina absorbed the interior. Large windows opened to the side of the building, allowing plenty of light in what was a capacious room. Bookcases faced her, laden with scholarly volumes, and there were easy chairs as well as several odd-looking pieces of apparatus. The voice had come from a walnut desk over in the corner, covered in folios and open books, and her eyes shifted quickly from them to the occupant as he rose.

Oh dear!

Without thinking deeply about it, Katrina had half-imagined that the doctor as a corpulent older man with bushy sideburns, his waistcoat buttons straining. Instead this doctor was younger, handsome of face, and his frame looked as if he rode every day, with the wide muscular shoulders and thick thighs of a horseman. He looked like a highwayman. She realised that she was flushing, and looked away as if to find a chair, but in fact she wanted her hide her facial response.

"Please, Miss Parke, feel free to choose a seat. We are mostly going to talk this morning. In time we will talk boldly of all kinds of intimate matters, but I need to start by simply better knowing your circumstances."

She arranged her petticoats in one of the easy chairs, hoping her face had recovered to a state of better decorum. His was a ruggedly handsome face, smooth-shaven but with generous sideburns. His long patrician nose extended from a tanned forehead, which in turn was curtained by jet-black wavy locks that came down to his neck. His deep, dark eyes were crinkled, with amusement perhaps, but without comment he opened a new folder and took up a pen. During the next half hour she gave the details of her circumstances and health, including answering some politely-worded inquiries concerning her womanly functions and her lunar cycle. She noticed the doctor wore no marriage ring.

Then the doctor leant back. "I am sure you are most eager to understand what this process involves. I am a qualified physician, the better having attained my shingle by reading medicine at the Radcliffe Infirmary at Oxford, already of good repute throughout Europe, and I have made it my business to study closely the processes of procreation and pleasure as I have followed what the profession now calls a speciality. While I feel certain that animals feel something along the lines of pleasure during their copulations, I also am certain that only man has developed a social and mental need for pleasure through the same processes. And it is to train you in the giving and receiving of pleasure that we will proceed. Your uncle undoubtedly has heard of my work from other satisfied clients, for my practice is discreet and supplied solely by word of mouth, and my clients extend to the very peak of our society."

He nodded knowingly, letting his young client assume that the Palace itself might avail of his services.

"But I am going to start by letting you in on a secret." Katrina's attention went up a level.

"In truth, this training is mostly for your own pleasurable benefit, not for your marriage prospects, nor any outcome for your future husband. And not only that, but I am going to give you the tools to control your spouse from the bedroom, in order that you achieve your own objectives within the marriage contract. You will become capable of using your mastery of the science of love-making to make your husband your willing puppet, even without using the normal feminine wiles concerning the manners of the salon or ballroom."

He acknowledged the twitch of a smile from her as comprehension. She had seen many a woman deliberately swoon, or show artificial outrage at a comment, or show by means of her body-language that a comment was favoured or disdained. While other women standing nearby might know exactly what was going on, men seemed to be unable to penetrate these feminine niceties of non-verbal communication. But these were truly radical ideas, that a woman might not only seek her own pleasure during copulation, but to actually exploit the sexual act for domestic or political advantage. Her head spun with the implications.

"So, let us start. Our first hour is almost finished, although I am not rigid in these matters. So today I would like to start with a simple exercise in what I will term 'letting inhibitions go.' Would you please arise?"

Katie rose, placing her purse on the seat, and faced him as he came around the desk. He stood fully one foot above her, for she was quite petite even though full of bust and hip.

"I would like you to trust me that nothing harmful will happen, but I want to open your mind rather than let what happens affect your body. Would you please drop onto all fours there on the rug?"

Her eyes opened wide. Like a dog?

Nevertheless, she followed his instruction obediently, arranging herself on her hands and knees. It was the only way to find out what was going to happen. Speculating will never achieve anything except confusion, her mother used to say.

"Now, I am going to handle you. I will resist the urge to use the ironic manhandle, for surely the King's English makes no allowance for woman-handling. You will have to accept that my contacts are not groping in a carnal manner. Merely I wish you to become accustomed to your body being touched, pressed, moved and controlled by another, without becoming overwhelmed. So you will have to concentrate only on staying balanced."

In this position Katrina could see only to his knees if she tried, the polished leather of his shoes occupying her field of vision. Suddenly there was a pressure on her lower spine, taking her into a more arched position. She felt the heaviness and strength of his bodyweight, and realised that this arched pose proffered her soft interior thighs to anyone behind her. Then she jumped when another palm cupped one buttock through the cotton layers of her skirts.

A small yelp of protest escaped from her lips but the hand was already gone and both were massaging the top of her shoulders, a touch gentle enough to allow her to submit to the caress and for her head to droop slightly. Then one shifted to cup the spine of her neck, holding her looking down while the back of her leg was firmly stroked and patted. She lurched away, forcing up against the hand controlling her head, but again the contact had already moved elsewhere, a regular patting on her mid-back like percussion, which moved gradually until each cheek was being patted in turn, still in the same rhythm. Then hands ran up and down her back and legs quickly, then shoulders, then returning lower. So it continued.

It was the strangest feeling, forced to passively accept being touched somewhat like an animal. She wondered if the doctor handled horses like this. Gradually she became completely motionless, forcing herself into acceptance, realising that it was the best response, the only response. Her thoughts stilled, waiting solely for the experience to finish, yet finding it not unpleasant. Indeed there was a certain warmth growing between her thighs.

"Good girl. That's excellent control and trust. You are indeed a promising student. Please come up again now."

That was it?

Seated again with her hands in her lap, her whole body tingling, her face deeply flushed, she waited for the doctor's concluding words.

"Mark that when you are next asked to do that, you will already know what to expect. Do you consider, Miss Parke, that next time we meet you will find it easy to obey the instructions with enthusiasm, knowing that?"

The thought instantly sent a sharp tingle within her gusset, and caused her to blush slightly and look down modestly once again from his direct gaze.

"Well, my experience is that you will, and that is what I will consider progress, which we will build on gradually and at a rate you hopefully will find comfortable, even perhaps interesting. Please see Samuel on your way out and arrange your next session. Not more than a fortnight please, and it will be wise to avoid your monthly as we progress."

She nodded quickly, roses coming to her cheeks again, and arose to leave the consulting room.

CHAPTER TWO

Two weeks later to the hour, another hansom cab drew up and Katrina Parke once again lifted the brass knocker. This time she had taken the initiative of wearing several layers less under her skirts, feeling not the need for so many petticoats. If she was going to be expected to clamber around in the Doctor's rooms, then she would be adopting an attire more attuned to riding.

She also availed herself of the powder room to check her face and hair, before taking a deep breath and rejoining Samuel before the Doctor's door. He greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand indicating the same easy chair.

When she had arranged herself, the Doctor spoke. "I would like to hear your thoughts on our last session, Miss Parke. And then what you imagine will happen from now."

The second question had Katrina's mind in a whirl, for it implied sharing her innermost thoughts, and indeed she had entertained many improper thoughts about the Doctor and what he might intend. Surely she could not divulge those? So it was with a halting voice that she chose to answer the easier question.

"Doctor Richards, I found your processes most intriguing, and not alarming. Certainly I am not sure yet what you intend by these exercises, but as we discussed, I will endeavour to learn as much as I can. For the future, I have little idea, and perhaps that is a part of your stratagem in this process; to keep your subject constantly off-guard."

The last comment raised his eyebrows. "Very perceptive, Miss Parke! I can see I am dealing with an intelligent and observant subject. Perhaps we will accelerate our future schedule, but this morning's agenda is already decided. I would like to continue with training your responses to sensory inputs, taking things up a notch, if you are agreeable."

At her nod, he picked up a satin blindfold from his desk, and came around to face her. He gently placed the cloth over her eyes. "Adjust the eye mask until you cannot see light around the edges. Then please adopt the same position as last time."

When she was again on hands and knees, slightly wider this time as she predicted it would be easier to keep balance, she realised that this felt very different. As his hands made contact, her whole focus was on those contacts, feeling a kind of communication running from each adjustment of pressure or position. Somewhat distracted, her head raised and turned slightly as if to give her ears a better chance of knowing what was happening to her, she felt her body reacting to each touch; her mind playing a running commentary, a rapt spectator to what was happening.

Gently a hank of her hair was grasped and her head raised further as if she were looking up to him. It was so bizarre knowing that he was looking directly at her, but not being able to see what his expression was. The other hand descended on her rump with a slight slap, then maintained its pressure. At first her body wanted to struggle, a feminine reflex, but gradually she calmed.

"That's excellent, Miss Parke. The reason we are doing this is because you will be groped many times in the future. Groped by strangers, groped by men of influence over you, perhaps influence also over anyone who could help you; groped by male relatives, and perhaps that last one has already occurred. There's many a young lady who has not attained her bleed before she has been already molested. Your breasts will be stroked and squeezed, your bottom will be spanked and polluted, and your intimate parts will either be fingered from the front, or goosed from behind. Not all fingers will be gentle or well-informed, as I hope mine will be. All these invasions will carry the male expectation that you will wriggle in an erotic evasion, or at least engage with the gentleman; I use that last term loosely."

The hands roaming over her seemed more like caresses this time, she felt no need to fidget until his hand slid down beyond her neck onto her décolletage. Even as her reflexes jerked evasively, the hand was gone, but several moments later - the hands meantime having roamed elsewhere, strewing sensations all over her body - her upper chest was visited again several times in quick succession.

Then without preamble the lower hand returned to its original position on her rump, pinning her, and the hank of hair was grasped.

"Miss Parke, I commend you on your initiative in minimising your undergarments. I can discern far more.... topography..... of your body without all those layers." The soft pats of encouragement he gave her buttock just added to her fervent humiliation at being discovered. Her face, fortunately facing away from the Doctor, was deeply blushing. "Of course I hope that you will both continue this practice and also feel no barrier to making any other adjustments that help our progress."

Could she blush any deeper?

The frustrating thing, she thought, was that should she wish in the future to make complaint about this handling, it would be difficult to convince any authority of her accusations of improper touch, due to both the medical setting and the speed and unpredictability of his hands -- sometimes delicately caressing, sometimes slapping percussively, or gently pounding a rhythm with his fists. The sheer onslaught of sensations left her unable to react, so in the end she submitted, breathing heavily. Very soon after that he stopped, and once again resumed his original holds.

"So, as I said, Miss Parke, you will be groped and molested, and hopefully not worse than that. But you must learn first to not let these molestations trouble you internally. In time you will learn to act out your responses accordingly to whatever you wish to convey to the gentleman offender; whether outrage, or panic, or derision. Or encouragement. That is when you start to control men to your own advantage, without becoming overwhelmed of spirit."

The hands started over.

It was when he took to softly slapping the insides of her upper thighs, threatening to brush the soft cottoned mound of her plump sex, that she finally gave a nervous whinny and tried to evade the contact. She felt uncomfortably like a show dog being inspected at Crufts. A firm slap on her rump brought her to heel with a shock.

"Try harder, Miss Parke. "Try harder to accept. Nothing bad is happening to you. Do not over-react. Now, I am going to return to that area between your thighs, and no matter what, I wish you to remain calm and still."

What could she do? What was worse, his hands directed by pressure that she should splay herself wider, and then a heavy palm came to rest on her spine, forcing her back again into that wantonly arched presentation, her quim not only exposed but proffered.

The gaping crease of her arse felt fingertips running trills up and down each side that had her shimmering, her rosebud clenching uncontrollably, then they stroked forwards on her inner thighs towards her mound. That first touch on the modest labia that lined her most intimate entrance forced another moan of supplication from her, a jerk, and an answering slight increase in pressure to steady her. Katrina realised with shame that she was most fearful that the Doctor would discern how beside herself she had become; she now felt like a bitch on heat being examined by a dog doctor. She was sure that her womanly cream would, already be soaking the gusset of her knickers.

The next words spoken had her wide-eyed in shock and humiliation, for his speech was impassioned, almost calming while his comment was outrageous.

"Miss Parke, I am well aware that you have generated a heat within your womb, for it is not merely a matter of secretions, which themselves are made obvious, but of perfumes, of the aromas of excitement! You will probably be disappointed when you finally are in a position to inhale masculine scents -- theirs is a far more banal range of experience compared to the lunar palette of aromas, which is exquisite!"

As she absorbed the import of these amazing statements, the grip on her hair and the pressure on her reddened buttock held her transfixed.

"The next thing is that you should be totally expected to have that reaction. I welcome it, I applaud you for producing that response, for it is healthy and robust. So do not be embarrassed, but concentrate on enjoying it while preventing it overloading your mental processes. I want you to nod if you accept that my finger will revisit that excitement, and celebrate it with you. I swear it will be an amazingly.... liberating...," he had both stressed the word and paused for effect, "... experience. It expresses the power of what my profession now calls 'the affirmation process'."

It was ridiculous, she thought later, that she had made a feeble quiver as he pulled away the cotton, feeling cold air on her most secret parts. She thought her legs would collapse. Then something else more primal took over, and later she considered that she probably pushed rather too eagerly towards the inquisitive finger that teased up and down her slippery vestibule, before it was joined by another and then.......!!

Suddenly she was bucking and moaning, unable to stop herself. The Doctor had his crooked finger pushing against her virgin hymen while his thumb rolled over her fleshy clitoris, and she could feel the front walls of her womb pulsing as she gasped and panted her way through her release, her thighs pumping thin air with helpless abandon.

"Good girl. Good girl," came the reassuring voice from above, and with that his hand came to rest cupping her furry quim, allowing her to continue pressing against it in tiny thrusts as she continued to spend with little cries and mewls.

Finally the two of them were motionless. Katrina realised her clothes were damp with perspiration. Fortunately she had brought a coat and the journey home was not far. Then she allowed herself a slight smile; already her thoughts had moved on. Perhaps this Doctor really knew what he was doing.

At that moment Katrina realised that while she was very much being taken somewhere completely unknown and bizarre, she was rather looking forwards to the journey.

CHAPTER THREE

In such manner the visits continued. The Doctor admitted at their next review that he had not expected to reach such an advanced point in just the second consultation, but hopefully she felt that her progress had not been forced upon her, rather that he had guided her natural inclinations towards that thrilling conclusion.

Sitting primly with her hands crossed on her lap, she had to agree. The experience had far surpassed any pleasure she had ever been able to extract for herself. Having someone else fingering her quim, gentle fingers that seemed absolutely to understand what would take her to an exquisite finale, while she merely accepted their attentions, had been sublime. Her crease was already slippery with the expectation that something similar would happen today.

And it did, after a fashion. In that third consultation, the Doctor had her again on all fours, but this time her body was set into a rhythmic swaying, one hand guiding her hips to the right while the other pressed her upper body to the left, and then back and forth. The motion felt quite strange, and her gut and chest resisted entering the motion; she felt her breakfast stirring in her stomach and her breathing descended to short pantings.

But something changed, somehow her tissues and organs caught the cadence, and once again she became a passive beast, accepting what was happening. Her mind, having surrendered, drifted to other things -- they were to have her favourite meal that night at her Uncle's mansion. Hopefully she would not arrive back exhausted like last time, when she had gone to her bedroom straight away, pleading a headache, and slept like a log until the morning maid stirred her arm.

She realised with a start that the hands guiding her torso's movement were more subtle now, she was hardly moving, and then...... then there was a hand cupping her quim through the damp cloth and she could not remember when it had arrived!

It had arrived gently as a tissue falling onto her lap while maintaining the ongoing rhythm, and she was certain she had been quite diverted at the time by what was going on with her hair, which had been pulled back until she had to arch her back again, into that most wanton position which had been a feature from the beginning of her training. In that posture the swaying had continued, her head being waggled from side to side in time with her hip. She had entered a trance state - mindless she thought - like a blank hypnotical subject.

She remembered as a girl following Edwards the gamekeeper; he had let her watch as he leant down the bank of one of her father's brooks, and gently tickled a trout until it became motionless and let his fingers grasp it firmly, just before it was flung back on the grass behind them. Strange that the image had floated into her consciousness right then, she thought distractedly.

It seemed the Doctor had a clear sense of progression, and each session was becoming more extreme in terms of Katrina's wanton presentations and behaviour, as the Doctor's touches became more blatant and invasive. Rather than having to steel herself in order to not react, Katrina found she was looking forwards to each touch, so much so that she was copiously aroused even before she alighted from her hansom and ascended the front steps to her next session, leaving a subtle hint of her arousal in the cab that would no doubt tantalise the next customer.

***************

It gave her a secret thrill to be able to give her uncle answers to his polite inquiry as to her progress, answers that glowed with measured positivity, all the while feeling her quim come alive with the sensual memories that the conversation stirred. If only he knew what was happening!

A panic came over her -- what if the Doctor reported back to him? That would be unthinkable, and she made a note to ask at the beginning of the next consult when the Doctor asked her to make commentary.

As soon as her uncle's wave dismissed her, his satisfied face returning to its normal solemness as his face dropped back to the papers on his desk, a smiling Katrina wasted no time in returning to her room, locking the door, and going to her water closet where her maid had left a basin of warm water. She fairly threw off her underclothes and scampered to the basin, hairbrush in hand. Then the combination of warm water and the embossed pattern on her silver brush's handle quickly produced a most satisfactory clenching as she struggled to keep from moaning out loud. Then others followed more intense, until she could take no more.

She had been doing this for over a fortnight, and whatever vestige of virginity her hymen might have had, it had been swept aside in the passion of her thrustings. Dipping the handle in the warm water not only lubricated it, but the handle became warm, and each new sluice of warmth in her tunnel brought delicious sensations. She was no stranger to touching herself in her bath, but had always avoided doing it at night, fearful of leaving messy traces on her sheets. However the maid thought nothing of the warm bowl; young ladies often would give themselves what the French court fashionably called a douche, in order to keep themselves fresh.

Katrina found her own ideas changing as her education progressed. She had taken to wearing the latest fashion in ladies' underwear from Paris, called lingerie. Rather than the usual heavy bloomers with a split crotch for relieving oneself, she now wore a harness that kept up her hose, called a garter belt, together with a comfortable corset that accentuated her waist. The looks she received from men in public now gave her secret satisfaction, knowing that she had deliberately engineered those responses. In their discussions, the doctor had explained how men were driven by visual stimulations, and much of what women considered part of their normal toilette were in fact ancient cosmetic tricks to make themselves more alluring to the opposite sex.

Her education in erotic matters kept bringing surprises. It was perhaps three months along that the Doctor started their session by praising Katrina for her excellent progress. Today, he said, he was going to ask her to make a courageous leap ahead. The look of inquiry on his face prompted Katrina to nod in acquiescence, which he seemed to take as the right to proceed.

"Miss Parke, this lesson is firstly about obedience and trust, not because they are the most important part of the exercise, but because they will present your initial challenge. Do you feel ready?"

Another nod.

"Then I want you to stand, step back to face the chair, remove all your clothes and place them on the seat. Know that you will not be molested while you are naked."

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth in stunned silence, her fingers covering it in embarrassment.

"Be courageous, Miss Parke."

Methodically Katrina set about unbuttoning and unclipping her layers of fabric as if in a trance.

"You may keep your boots and hose on, if that is possible."

Having her most intimate parts exposed to a gentleman, even if a learned doctor, filled her with embarrassment, although she was not feeling shame. By now she had realised that her young body was shapely and firm and her soft skin was alabaster pale, which contrasted with the deep pink of her nipples and sex. She had taken to removing much of the fur soft that covered her mound, and knowing that soon the Doctor would see what she had done added to her embarrassment, but she concentrated on carrying out the instruction. This was just another exercise, and she would return to Parke House afterwards like every other time, and life would go on.

Still, she found herself stooped over the easy chair, reluctant to stand tall and turn to face him. Suddenly his hand was on her shoulder; he had moved around from behind her desk, and slowly he turned her to face him. She dropped her face and blushed even deeper.

The cold metal of his stethoscope raised her chin until her eyes had to meet his.

"Well done, Miss Parke. What an excellent pupil you are turning out to be. Now I will move away and I want you to pose for me as if I am a photographer and you are a famous model. Imagine that, together with the photographer, you are being

contracted to produce those racy postcards that are so popular on the south coast piers. Do you understand our acting exercise, our charade?"

Katrina mutely acknowledged her comprehension, but initially was lost for ideas. She decided to start with a slow, graceful twirl, then raised her arms behind her head, bringing her breasts into prominence. It felt incredibly wanton, but knowing that she was being instructed to do this, knowing that it was not her responsibility to assess any moral dilemma, made it rather thrilling after the first moments. She realised that she did not have to remain stationary, so she commenced a series of turns around the room, in the manner of a ballroom waltz. She had once been taken to see the Royal Ballet by her parents during a trip to London; ironically, they had stayed then at her uncle's mansion, Parke House, in Belgravia. But her memory of the graceful movements of the ballerinas had remained, and now she mimicked them.

"Miss Parke, that is excellent and graceful. But I wish you to act out a model who is more -- shall we say? -- lascivious rather than coy. A courtesan, but certainly not a whore; although many a countess is known by whispers behind hands to be a whore, believe me."

She paused, wondering how to respond to this new challenge.

"I suggest you do what you were doing beforehand, but now stroke yourself all over in a sensuous manner. Imagine that the photographer is able to freeze your pose from time to time with his shutter to capture a tableau. I shall make the noise of the shutter for realism."

Down from her arms to her hips ran her hands, but they immediately returned up her belly to cup her breasts and jiggle them. It was so improper and saucy! But it actually felt quite wonderful, and there was another feeling - of being totally liberated - that was affecting her, making her feel light-headed with euphoria. It felt like she was a common music-hall entertainer. Before she realised, her fingers were tweaking her nipples, then stroking down to the fur between her thighs, which compressed her bosoms between her arms, while she maintained a teasing routine, turning away to prevent the Doctor from seeing her naughtiest caresses, while he continued to click his tongue.

Finally the Doctor applauded with his hands, motioning her back in front of the desk.

"Dear girl, thank you! Excellent! You have exceeded all my expectations! Please, reclothe yourself, and be certain that we will return to this particular talent of yours in the future!"

She made to move towards her clothes, but the doctor stopped her. "One last thing, Miss Parke. Now I want you to act out a state of outrage, as if you have been caught naked in your private boudoir by an impertinent male, transgressing all boundaries of decency by entering. Do you need me to act out that part?" he added, with a slight amusement teasing the corners of his mouth as he gestured towards the door.

Katrina shook her head, then thought for a second back to several instances from her younger years and planted her hands on her hips, moving her feet apart into a strong stance. Hunching her shoulders forwards, and jutting her chin, she narrowed her eyes and stared down her learned mentor.

"Wonderful, Miss Parke. Do not change your position for a moment. Do you comprehend how you now do not feel vulnerably naked? The difference between your previous acting out of the coquette, and your angry aggression now is not merely your own mental attitude, but a combination of your stance and facial expression. You can use these tools to control exactly how any situation is perceived by a man, for they will automatically react to how you present yourself, regardless of what you might be thinking internally."

Glowing with pride at her accomplishment, and intoxicated with the sheer affrontery of being able to do these wanton things without any restriction nor consequence, Katrina sat quietly in the hansom cab afterwards as it joggled over the cobblestones of London, her whole body still tingling with exquisite memories of the Doctor's consulting room. Racing up the steps of Parke House, she called greetings to anybody she saw, making as if she had urgent need of the water closet. Instead, the warm basin and hairbrush handle awaited her and her impatient fingers.

CHAPTER FOUR

A much bigger shock awaited Katrina Parke several sessions later. They had been practicing acting out various emotions while naked, and she was now quite accustomed and careless of shedding her clothes in front of the doctor. With each charade, he had taken the time to show her subtle gestures or movements that conveyed the desired effect.

But today the doctor himself answered the door and led her down the corridor into his chambers, amused at her inquiring looks. Inside she was stunned to find Samuel standing silently there in front of the bookcases. He did not greet her, but remained standing at attention, nor did the doctor bother to explain his presence. Was he to take part in today's session? She was nervous -- this was a major departure from her region of comfort, and she felt her confidence evaporate instantly.

Nevertheless, the doctor had her sit as usual and went through their review of the previous consultation. Then he leant back.

"As you may have guessed, I have a surprise for you this day, but I also doubt you will arrive at its exact nature. Samuel has another role in my practice apart from managing the records and book-keeping, so be assured that he is doing this quite willingly."

The doctor stood and went over to where the young man stood and turned him to face the bookcases, tying a black cloth over his eyes. He then produced metal handcuffs and fastened his wrists, then turned him back to face the room.

"I feel it is about time that you became familiar with the male organ, Miss Parke. Samuel is my model on these occasions, and both those additions I have just made allow you confidence that you are totally in control. Now...." he paused momentarily, "... I want you to reach into that young man's breeches and bring his organ into the open."

There was dead silence in the room. Katrina's thoughts spun in confused circles, she felt dizzy. Nothing had prepared her for this, never had she imagined she would ever be doing this. Her classical education had introduced her to statues of naked young athletic men, but they were all ancient Greeks or Romans, and she had no idea what a modern Englishman might look like.

"Miss Parke, this is merely a lesson, a demonstration in order to allow you better knowledge of the anatomy, the responses and control of the male organ. But to engage in the lesson, we must have a model. Illustrations cannot be sufficient for your expertise. So shall we start?"

Katrina slowly arose and went over to where the young man stood still. Not wishing to surprise him, she placed one hand on his arm to steady him, and delicately reached for the buttons of his breeches. Sliding her hand inside, she recoiled slightly as her fingers came into contact with warm flesh. Then, gathering her resolve, she gripped the supple tube of manhood and brought it with her into the light. Her eyes were transfixed on the sight before her as she eased the ballsack and shaft out further until the assistant's curly hairs peeked from the crease. His organ hung in a curve, somewhat turgid but not straight, and it pulsed several times as she stood there contemplating the strange sight before her eyes. There was a slight meaty odour coming from his private parts, not unpleasant; rather it had her full attention.

The doctor's voice interrupted her. "So very simply there is a shaft, which is also used for making water, and the ballsack, which contains two firm egg-shaped receptacles that we now believe hold the seed fluid of the male. The head of the shaft is shaped like a bell as you see before you, and can differ in its size relative to the shaft dimensions; some males have a large bell, others have one that is more modest. As you can also see, the head has a protective cover of excess foreskin that will slide back when the organ is full erect."

Katrina was gradually becoming accustomed to the bizarre sight of a young man exposing himself before others, except that it was she who had brought about the display, and she was not sure how to consider that responsibility. The next comment brought a slight twitch of acknowledgement from the young man. "I can assure you that the male organ comes in a myriad of shapes and sizes, and that of young Samuel here is of goodly proportions and appearance. You will encounter far feebler examples during your adult life, especially with more senior or portly gentlemen."

The doctor took one of the easy chairs and brought it alongside the pair, sitting himself wide-legged and bent forwards with his forearms resting on his thighs. This way, Katrina felt, he created a trio in the arrangement.

"Do you have any questions at this point, Miss Parke?" He held that particular, slightly amused look that she had come to know well. She shook her head, so full of questions that she could not get the first one past her lips.

"Then let us move on. I want you to move the outer skin gently back towards the belly, until you create some tension. It will uncover the tip, the bell-end. And you should feel Samuel's haunches twitch or clench a modest amount when you reach the limit. Other men will react more considerably, but obviously this is not Samuel's first inspection."

Just as her grip slowly reached its end-point the doctor spoke again. "Continue as if you would press his package towards the belly"

With that, Samuel jerked forwards once urgently, then caught himself and stood straight and still once more. Katrina let go in confusion.

"No! My dear student, you must maintain control when you are handling a male. Especially as that more pronounced spasm is exactly the kind of response you will get from males. Please consider this; males will expect a young woman to handle them tentatively, timidly. By taking control with your hand, you will not only have them off balance, but you will be establishing your whole relationship with them, both privately and publicly. What man could assume public arrogance over a lady who has brought him confidently to lose his seed while she remains clothed, or who has reamed out his arse? If she does these acts without shame or timidity, and handles him with confidence, she then holds power over him, that he might risk his secret predilections with a public outing by displeasing her!"

He leaned back abruptly. "Please continue that action with a more rhythmic action, Miss Parke. "You should soon feel a certain swelling developing, and the entire shaft will stiffen and take on a more florid colouration."

To her fascination, the cock did indeed stiffen rapidly, and soon Samuel was making awkward little jerks and fidgets. Each time she pressed towards his belly, he pressed forward urgently, the florid and swollen head now glistening at its tip with clear fluid. Katrina gently swirled her curious fingertip on the viscous emergence, causing another reflexive jerk from the young assistant. The doctor was regarding her with apt attention.

"So my dear, you have realised that the male secretes a clear lubricant with his arousal. We physicians now believe that all mammals do the same, as do you, as we have already demonstrated. That is our Maker's plan to assist the copulative act."

Katrina blushed slightly at the memory of her previous wanton displays.

"His actual emission of sperm would be rather more cloudy, more milky, but we will not reach that point today. Before leaving Samuel to rearrange himself, however, I wonder if you would place your lips around the bell-end, just for the experience. Another small milestone in your education perhaps."

A wide-eyed Katrina could hardly believe that she was being asked to do what common whores did in alleyways. She felt completely slutty, and yet it was she who was in control, for she could refuse the doctor's instruction, and anyway she controlled exactly the rules of engagement. It was a confusing mix of emotions and thoughts, but her quim was once again slippery with her own juices and her nipples engorged, and so she leant forwards after a slight hesitation, and took the organ tip in her mouth, resting on her tongue. It tasted salty, perhaps tangy, but there was also a slight aroma of carbolic soap. So Samuel had prepared himself for this occasion, she thought with a wry internal humour. The meatiness seemed to emanate from the curls decorating his lower belly and inner thighs.

She did not know how long she was expected to hold this position, and Samuel was obviously struggling to keep still. She made a complete "O" with her lips, and allowed her tongue to explore the fold lying beneath, back and forth. This brought forth further urgent wriggling from Samuel, and the doctor at last spoke.

"My dear Miss Parke! You never cease to impress me with your intrepid attitude! Well done, and we will continue your familiarisation with the male organ in the approaching lessons. Now let us draw the session to a close, and if you would please thank Samuel, not only for agreeing to be our model, but also for his excellent restraint."

CHAPTER FIVE

Over the next weeks the sessions continued. Katrina was introduced to fellation, with the obliging Samuel again modelling, as well as with a fascinating porcelain model of a phallus, which the doctor used to improve her mouth and ability to accept depth. Once again the doctor seemed delighted with her proficiency, which needed three repetitions only to reach a high level of technique.

In another session, timed during her monthly, the doctor discussed the differences between a submissive husband and a dominant man, including noticing any potential signs of her spouse's infidelity. "Note that this is not knowledge to prevent your marital embarrassment. You will never be some church mouse wife, allowing her egoistical lord to trample over her feelings. But if you realise that the lord of the house is dallying elsewhere, then you could either engage private investigators to ascertain the identity of his little mistress in order to confront him with the facts immediately, or perhaps you might wish to dally yourself, knowing that even in the event of being discovered, you can counter with that knowledge.

Of course, the submissive husband is far easier to handle and manipulate to your objectives, but even so you will need to discover exactly which proclivity he is most taken with. Will it be merely verbal assertion from you, gaining comfort from having a strong partner, which perhaps arises from his previous experience with dominant mother or governess? Or perhaps he requires more, shall I say, "hands-on" treatment to produce a partner who is putty in your hands. If so, you have ultimate domain over him, for he knows that any public suspicion of his perversions will be the end of him. That power is so strong it must be employed judicially, for you do not want to "kill the goose that lays gold eggs," do you? Just the implicit threat of being unmasked will be enough to terrify your submissive man into doing anything you wish."

As part of that lesson, and continued in several further episodes, Katrina was introduced to the techniques of chastisement, whacking the chair and cushions with canes, different riding crops and dressage whips, as well as paddles and indeed using her own hand. Once again the long-suffering Samuel acted as compliant model to a manual spanking, and this time his commentary guided the doctor to adjust her efforts to greater efficacy. In this way her palms were spared being over-taxed, and she learnt from the sharp slapping sound how accurate her contact had been.

At one point, Katrina posed a question that had occupied her thoughts since the previous session. "Surely it is strategically advantageous to choose a submissive spouse in the first place, for he will bend to my wishes easily?"

On the other side of the desk, the doctor paused, hand on chin, and considered her query. "That is indeed a fine question, and I must be circumspect in answering. However, I understand your uncle is satisfied enough with your progress....."

He continued abruptly on seeing the look of panic on her face. Surely her uncle was not privy to these intimate conversations!? She was mortified.

".... please understand that he knows nothing of any details of your training. But your uncle is hoping, if I may reveal his intentions, that you find a husband capable of ascending in his business empire. That should not be a surprise to a perceptive young lady such as yourself. I would assume he has an overview of which young gentlemen in London are scoundrels or reprobates, for he moves in circles where men are able to indulge in any proclivity, and therefore individuals tend to reveal their true nature in those environments. The point of what I am saying is, in my estimation a dominant male will more likely succeed in the business trade, whereas a submissive male is more suited to scholarship or the cloth, or perhaps politics, serving as lackey to a more dominant politician. On finding a husband acceptable to Sir Archibald, you may be assured of inheriting a considerable fortune in due course."

As Katrina consciously relaxed, he continued. "So there are advantages in either direction, but as a professional man and your mentor I would advise you to also follow your heart in finding a partner, and make the best of either eventuality. Now that is a long response to a simple question, but does it leave your emotions at peace, or have I stirred up more disquiet?"

"Thank you, Doctor. It sets my mind at rest, certainly."

"As a logical development of that information, these lessons should help you decide which type attracts you more, if you do not already know. For normally the dominant or submissive nature is an inherent part of the character of each of us, and only augmented or inhibited by our surroundings and upbringing. I am hoping you will come to understand how to choose prospective men so that you can play the role that coincides with your own natural proclivities."

"To that end, my dear student, I intend to soon introduce you to a more public predicament, where you will continue your education by playing the sophisticated social libertine while maintaining your private sensibilities. That is, you will present as an outrageous but aristocratic wanton, while all the while knowing that it is just a test, one that we will discuss forensically afterwards. I do not wish to reveal the details, for it is useful that the situation is challenging and novel to you."

He rose from his seat. "Once you are accustomed to playing the wanton in front of men, you will be able to match your behaviours to your objectives. Also, you will never be taken unawares in future, no matter what surprise encounter, or carnal situation you are faced with." Katrina knew that her mind would be spinning with wonderings during the journey home, and perhaps for days ahead. The hairbrush beckoned.

CHAPTER SIX

Katrina by now knew in her heart that she preferred - nay wished - to submit to a handsome dominant man, perhaps even one refined and sophisticated like the doctor. It certainly helped that his features were attractive, and with each meeting she felt herself becoming more compliant, but also more willing, even eager, to progress for his approval. Tucked in her warm bed, her fevered wonderings in the small hours imagined what it would be like to be impaled on a meaty shaft like that of young Samuel, feeling it intruding and stretching her most sensitive places, and she was becoming impatient to complete her tuition and move into debutante society, for she assumed her uncle would wish her to participate in the next London Season, including being presented at the Queen Charlotte's Ball for aristocratic ladies of marriageable age.

How quite incredible, she thought, that she had originally been apprehensive of this education. How distant she now was from that naïve virginal maiden. The doctor had refused to give any hint of what he was proposing in terms of her "public predicament," which was both tantalising and provocative, and on several occasions she had to control herself from pressing him for details. But finally a date was set, and she was instructed to present herself at his chambers as usual.

On the appointed day, her heart was fluttering and her hands clammy as she ascended the steps into a cab, calling out the doctor's address to the coachman. During the journey she tried to calm herself, but she was realising that the insights gained from the doctor's sessions allowed her the luxury of submitting helplessly to the advances of a handsome dominant gentleman, while she would be secretly aroused at the thought of being molested, then plundered, while all the while squealing in pleasure. Her carnal partner would in his turn be inflamed by her apparent maidish responses to being violated. This knowledge, this insight was currently bringing her to a state of over-excitement, and she had given up any attempt to mask the hot slipperiness within her lingerie, and the associated aroma.

The doctor inquired after her state of mind, and thus reassured, had her unclothe herself until she was standing in her lingerie. A blindfold was produced; they always made her feel more docile, and gently her wrists were bound in front of her. She was led from the room, down a corridor. They paused while Samuel knocked on a door, and entered to a silent room.

Katrina was led over to a panelled wall and her wrists were affixed above her head. The doctor spoke. "Good morning, gentlemen."

She flinched. There were men in the room? Immediately her head spun with anxious anticipation, twisting from side to side listening for movement. "This is the beautiful young lady I have mentioned, my student, and today represents a form of challenge for her. You are gathered here to create the setting for this test. Firstly let us prepare the student."

To her acute embarrassment, her clothing was carefully removed, cleared from her feet, and her boots removed. She was left standing naked in front of an unknown number of males, who were undoubtedly observing and enjoying the sight of her virginal form. Just the previous evening, she had her maid trim the womanly down between her thighs. She had thought it aesthetic and hygienic, now she felt concerned they would consider it lascivious.

"Please come closer." Katrina thought there were perhaps half a dozen sets of footsteps, but she was finding it hard not to struggle and flail to escape her restraints, and that control was taking all her attention. She was shaking in spite of herself.

"Our young lass will remain anonymous. She is here today to experience multiple handlings as we discussed. You may graduate your touches between caresses and tickles, pinching, and slapping. No punching. Her maidenhead is to be respected, but all other tissues and orifices are available. Do you understand the test? It is one of sensory overload and self-control.

"Now, my dear, I am not asking that you remain motionless, for you will not be able to. You may also squeal and squeak. Try not to lash out with kicks, for your ankles will be belted together the moment you attempt that. You will in any event "ride this out" until I give the word to cease, and that is the test. You will have no say over your circumstances. Any protest will be ignored."

"Now gentlemen, you may start."

Katrina jumped as several sets of fingers poked her ribcage and grasped her buttocks from the side. More hands joined the fray, and she moaned in confusion at the overwhelming sensations, as male hands and fingers roamed across the landscape of her torso. Fingertips pressed against her clenched teeth until she conceded, allowing them to play across her tongue and force her compliant jaw further open, until she gagged slightly.

"Make sure you are grounding yourself, my dear. Remember our talks. Deep breaths, plant your feet, relax your shoulders, let your knees drop slightly." Katrina followed his coaching, finding herself melting into the impudent fingerings and the delicious wetness that was blatantly advertising such a debauched reaction to her molestation.

"Now start writhing and wriggling to each man's touches, letting him know he is deranging your passions. Get yourself in character like in our acting exercises, and let me see the effect." His words had a galvanising effect on her. The lessons in his chambers flooded back, familiar moves, graceful struggles, accompanied by submissive mewls and whispered sensual moans.

Within minutes, she realised that the performance was rather steadily bringing her to a state of such excitement that she was going to lose herself. Rather than being in the privacy of her water closet and by dint of her own ministrations, this peak was being driven outside of her control, and without her most private entrance receiving the slightest caress. She was at a point where any more would push her over the crest, when the doctor's voice rang out. "Cease, please. Step back."

Then his cupped palm was gently slapping her mons Venus, and in an instant she was crying out, her hips pumping forwards, her knees buckling as she howled out her humiliating frenzy of carnal pleasure. It seemed she made water, but it emerged in squirting spasms of delirium. The doctor kept up the cadence of slaps, reducing gradually to pats that were nevertheless almost unbearable, so inflamed were her tissues. Finally she was pleading for mercy.

Katrina was left to calm herself while the gentlemen were thanked and departed. The doctor and Samuel supported her to a nearby armchair and a blanket was draped over her figure. The blindfold came off.

"My dear, how are you? I believe you experienced a significant release." The doctor bent before her.

It took Katrina several seconds to formulate a reply. "I am rather beside myself, doctor, but in the plainest sense I have no medical nor physical issues." She gathered herself further. "But as to the state of my mind, I fear it will never be the same!"

A smile of acknowledgement came to his face. "That is completely understandable, my dear. Most women will never experience that phenomenon, a release, in their lifetimes. In addition, my profession has identified that fluid as a form of female ejaculation, and it is a rare thing indeed."

What an incredible pity, she thought, that women be capable of such rapture yet unknowing of the possibility.

"You must be drained; any questions can wait. If you would return to my bureau and dress, we will provide a snack and some fine Darjeeling tea before you leave." He chuckled, "it is ironic, for sure, that I receive the sachets of tea leaves from your uncle!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hidden in plain sight in the centre of the City of London, just minutes stroll from Leadenhall Market, the infamous HellFire Club met in private rooms above the George and Vulture tavern. While clerks, messengers and tradesmen supped in the public bars at street level, another discreet door in St Michael's Alley alongside remained closed. On certain special evenings, fine coaches would drop their aristocratic passengers a short distance away. Then a large doorman armed with a pistol would respond to a specific series of raps, and nod recognition of each club member as they entered the lobby leading to a narrow staircase, the clinking of glasses and noisy banter echoing faintly through from the public bar just through the lobby wall.

The alley leading to the tavern was shrouded in evening mist when the doctor's coach dropped them in White Lyon Alley, although Katrina could only feel dampness on her skin, for she was blindfolded, a black cloth over her Venetian mask. Covered in a voluminous heavy cape, she wore beneath merely a red satin corset and slippers, which padded on the glistening cobbles. Her hands were tied securely with another cloth, her puckered nipples and sex rouged, her face made up like a courtesan. Samuel guided one arm, steadying her as they walked quietly down the narrow alley, the doctor following.

This was her final assignment. The doctor had previously explained to her what would happen. While the HellFire rooms were accustomed to debauchery and wild perversions, Katrina would be there as a prized guest, and to some extent an exhibit, before being allowed to observe the evening's proceedings.

Doctor Richards had continued, "In a way, this is your first coming out, for many of the same lords and knights will be present at Queen Charlotte's Ball. But on this night their other natures are allowed free rein, and it is under these circumstances that you will be presented to male society. In this way, gentlemen of a particular persuasion will be aware of your special talents, all your beauty will be in plain view, rather than hidden under petticoats and organza. As you will still wear an opera mask, to some extent you will remain anonymous, even though named. Trust me that your maiden status will nevertheless be respected, for it is a commodity worth retaining. We would not wish to spoil your desirability, would we?"

Sitting in her customary chair in the doctor's office, Katrina had experienced a flush of arousal between her thighs on hearing those details. She was finding herself easily triggered these days, her sex lubricated at the slightest carnal thought. She had also learned patience; the doctor would explain what was necessary to explain, and she accepted that as natural and normal without questioning further. The thought of obeying, of complying in advance to whatever would happen to her, while knowing that she would be protected, was by now a powerful aphrodisiac. He continued to give her instructions for the date in several weeks, explaining that this particular chapter of the HellFire Club in the City of London attracted men of finance and business and trade, together with their aristocratic clients, "So with luck you will meet the very types who will make excellent candidates for your eventual approval."

When the two of them - for Samuel had returned to the coach - reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by several finely dressed men. They looked like they were meaning to ride, and it seemed all the members were dressed to a theme, for they had jodhpurs, long boots, and riding jackets, and in their gloved hands riding crops and short quirts. They raised glasses of champagne to Katrina as firstly the cape, leaving her wondering who was seeing her naked quim and breasts, then the blindfold cloth, were removed. She blinked with the glare, then looked at each man in turn, noticing their eyes roaming hungrily over the spectacle before them. Any embarrassment was outshone by her feeling of pride in her own body, and her secret knowledge that this attraction to men was power unspoken.

She was led like a rare animal into the gathered throng, which gradually parted and hushed as she drew close. Finally, she stood surrounded by gently applauding males, raising their glasses enthusiastically. As her eye ranged around the group, she was shocked to realise that behind a leather mask was undoubtedly the visage of her uncle! She flinched, but a steadying hand on her shoulder stopped her from reacting further. She must remember her training. But inside her mind, so many thoughts were jumbled. Her uncle must have been privy to this plan all along! Far from being a fuddy-duddy old sourpuss, her guardian now seemed quite Machiavellian, a master manipulator.

From behind her a voice rang out. "Good evening, gentlemen. I will be your Master of Ceremonies tonight. Later we will have the customary frolics with a number of eager trollopes, most of whom adore a bit of encouragement with the rod like your favourite ponies in the new sport from Bengal! Your playmates have been carefully chosen, no guttersluts or prostitutes. These young wantons come from goodly homes, but have been tempted by base pleasures and found that they like it; they prefer it!"

There was a ripple of mirth, and of anticipation. Then the Master continued as it died down.

"But firstly, and in the spirit of supporting both our good king and the London Season, I would like to introduce you to a young lady of lofty provenance, for her name is Parke, that of the great house. She will, of course, be present at Queen Charlotte's Ball soon in the palace calendar, but we are taking the opportunity for, one might say, a sneak preview for persons of sophisticated tastes."

As Katrina stood there, holding a graceful pose, she was presented to the club members with a request that they spread the word amongst their majesty's nobles that a rare bird would soon be seeking a husband; a husband, the Master added "who would therefore enjoy the companionship of an obedient and submissive girl who would do anything he wanted under a firm hand."

Give us a twirl, Miss Parke!" he called to her, her face showing shocked disbelief at her innermost submissive secrets being so casually betrayed. She had just been offered on an underground blackmarket like a commodity, she realised, and the thought caused another gush of creaminess from her swollen, inflamed opening.

Knowing that every member could plainly see her lascivious display brought her even closer to spending right there in front of them. She had to resist rubbing her thighs together.

She frantically gathered herself. Her training took over. She knew what to do.

Her eyes came up to meet those of the assembled group, looking each man straight in the eye, from one side of the room slowly to the other and making acknowledgement to each set of eyes that locked with her. In an instant she had decided to make the best of it. This was evidently her destiny, for she had been guided towards this destination by others, rather than choosing for herself. As her gaze reached that of her masked uncle, he looked away, but he was enthusiastically applauding with the others.

She was ready for the next chapter in her life. She reached up slowly and removed the opera mask.

THE END