The first penis I ever beheld was presented to me by my Mother on the night she brought me back to Norman Hall from the convent.
It was an unspectacular organ, flaccid and pale, and it hung from the crotch of a skinny, spotty young man about my age: Herbert La Boef, the 18-year-old third son of Baron La Boef. Herbert had joined our household during my absence, and apparently served in my father's staff as some sort of page.
But on this particular dim winter evening, Herbert was in the service of my mother, who had summoned him to her private chambers. She and I sat side by side in matching upholstered chairs, and there stood poor, trembling, shriveled Herbert, barefoot on the cold stone floor, shivering in a candlelit lady's sitting room, buck naked before the mistress of the house and her daughter.
"Observe," Mother said, reaching out with her gloved hand to lift his prick by the tip of its foreskin. "Soft, small, covered in this droopy skin sheath. Impossible to imagine what the fuss is all about, yes? But this is the first lesson you must learn, dear: Who commands the cock commands the king. Repeat that back to me."
"Who commands the cock commands the king," I recited.
"Good girl. Now, be a superlative student and fetch the hot water from the hearth." She paused while I completed the task, and once I'd filled the wash basin on the little round table between us, she dipped a wash rag into the now steaming, soapy water, wrung it out, and began cleaning the naked boy's member.
"I'm going to demonstrate your first technique in a moment, but here's the first thing you must learn: Men are absolute pigs. Since you've been hidden away in a convent for the past six years, you know nothing of the gender, so you're going to have to learn everything all at once. You'll be 19 in just three months, and all the best girls your age were married off four or five years ago. So there is no time for pleasantries, I'm afraid."
As she spoke, Herbert's penis began a remarkable transformation beneath the stroking of the warm, soapy washrag. And so did Herbert. The longer it grew, the harder he breathed. The thicker it got, the ruddier his complexion became. Mother seemed not to notice or care, and kept up her running dialog as she cleaned him.
"Now, it's my experience that most noblewomen in this shire pay no attention to their husbands' cocks whatsoever," she continued. "At least that's what their husbands tell me. They'll submit to their wifely duties, but they make no effort otherwise. So, consequently, it logically follows that any woman willing to minister to a man's needs with her mouth, as I'm about to demonstrate, is surely to be deemed a treasure.
"But one must never assume that a man's organ is ready for such treatment, Catherine. Most arrive in a vile and cheesy state, so you must insist on a vigorous washing. To accept a dirty, smelly penis into the purity of one's mouth would be simply unhygienic. Are you enjoying yourself, Herbert?"
"Yes," he strained. The boy sounded like he was bracing himself for torture.
"Good. Now, Catherine, quick anatomy lesson: These are the testicles, which you must treat very gently. This is the shaft, which is covered in this sheath, called the foreskin. This feature, here at the tip, is called the glans. And this spot right there" -- she leaned forward, stuck out her tongue, and gave a swift, hard lick up the spot just below the organ's purple head -- "is what drives them crazy."
Herbert moaned involuntarily.
"Any questions, dear?" she asked me. Mother, who wore a standard pointed wimple that covered most of her long, golden hair, blinked at me innocently.
"One question, yes," I replied. "Aren't you afraid of eternal damnation?"
"Whatever for?"
"You just committed the Sin of the Mouth," I said. "When you licked that boy's penis. Just now. That's a mortal sin."
Mother chuckled, patted my hands, and turned her lovely face to gaze into my eyes.
"Catherine, I apologize for having to break this to you so indelicately. Your Mother Superior told me you've been a most exemplary young nun, with the aptitude to make a career of it. But you've grown into an absolutely stunning beauty, dear, and now that the family has fallen upon difficult times, it's important you understand the truth."
"Which is?" I asked.
"Remember all the lessons we taught you about the sanctity of the Holy Church?" she asked as she wrapped her hand around Herbert's penis and began stroking it rhythmically.
"Yes," I said, trying not to blush at Mother's obscenely sinful display.
"It's complete bullshit," she concluded.
I almost choked on the shock of those words.
"I know that's upsetting," she continued, looking at me while she stimulated Father's hapless page. "But it's all about controlling women, frankly, and otherwise rather useless. Once you set all this religious nonsense aside, you'll be free to live a wonderful, happy life. And more to the point, it's absolutely essential that you do so quickly, since the only way we're going save Norman Hall is to get you into the right beds, right away."
"You mean to whore me out?" I gasped.
"Of course not, dear," she said sympathetically. "I mean to find you an advantageous match with a rich and powerful man. But for that to happen, given our currently diminished state, you're going to have to adopt some new attitudes and learn some new skills."
"What skills are those, Mother?"
"Skill No. 1," she said, pausing to give the front of Herbert's cock one long lick from root to tip, "is called fellatio. "You will learn to apply your mouth to the penis, and with the aid of your hand, you will possess the power to make any man ejaculate."
"What?"
"What what?""
