A Few Days Before Christmas

To understand this story you need to understand a little of the English class system, which is not understood at all outside Britain and is poorly understood even by many Brits. In the United States, old families trace their origins back to the revolutionary war, and very old families to the Mayflower. In England, old families trace their origins to the Norman Conquest, a thousand years earlier. These are the real upper class. They consider the Royal Family to be middle class arrivistes, not that they would ever say so. They will be in Debrett's but they would not care if they were not. They all know one another anyway. They display no grandness or ostentation. Their houses, like their clothes are old, comfortable, and understated. They understand breeding, the practice of which has resulted in the emergence of a kind of sub-species: good looking, straight hair, slightly taller than average, good bone structure, slim no matter what they eat, and often courageous to the point of recklessness.

Five people were finishing supper: two couples in their fifties and a girl, the daughter of one of the couples. They were dressed formally, sitting at one end of a large oak table in a room with an open fire, wood panelling and family portraits darkened by time.

"Lizzy, is that my dress you are wearing?" asked one of the older women of the girl.

"Yes, Ma, it is. I have never seen you wear it and it fits me perfectly. You don't mind do you?"

"No, of course I don't mind darling. It is just that...Oh, nothing. It looks splendid on you."

Lizzy was wearing a midnight blue, shot silk, taffeta dress with a narrow waist and a very full ballerina length skirt. The lightly boned, off the shoulder bodice would have stayed up without straps on a woman with bigger breasts but Lizzy needed to use the optional straps.

"Margaret is that-"Her father started to ask, "-the dress, that you-"

"Yes, it is," Margaret, the girl's mother, cut him off abruptly.

After a slight pause, her father turned to the girl and asked "Lizzy, have you been fucked?"

"Pa! Ma tell him he can't ask me that!" She looked around the table, hoping for some support, but all four diners were looking at her, apparently waiting for an answer.

"Yes, Lizzy he can," said her mother quietly.

"Well, girl?" pressed her father.

Overcoming her initial shock Lizzy replied "Well, there was a boy from the village, but he was, well, very timid."

"Lizzy, slip your right tit out of your dress for me" ordered her father quietly.

"What! Ma, James, Grace, did you hear that?" Lizzy looked pleadingly at each in turn.

"Do it, Lizzy," said her mother, quietly.

Lizzy lifted both her hands to her shoulders, pushed aside her hair, and hooked her thumbs under the straps of her dress ready to drop the front of the bodice.

"Stop" said her mother. "Your father said just the one tit. We are not after nakedness."

Lizzy dropped the right strap of her dress and arranged the fabric to uncover her right breast. While not large, it had some weight and roundness, but was pert enough for the nipple to point slightly upwards.

"Hmm" said her father, "she's not as titty as you were at her age Margaret. How old are you?" He asked.

"Arthur, don't try to appear stupider than you are. She is just eighteen and you know it."

Lizzy was sitting stock-still: slim, but with vestiges of juvenile plumpness, good looking but not stunning, completely without makeup and with a pale breast exposed against her contrasting dark blue dress. So far, James and Grace, the guests, had remained silent but now James turned to Arthur, Lizzy's father, and gestured towards Lizzy, "Arthur, may I?

Arthur nodded at James and said to Lizzy, "Lizzy, James is going to fondle your tit." The tone of Lizzy's father's voice made it clear this was not a request. Lizzy was rigid but said nothing. There was no point in opposing her father, when he clearly had her mother's support. At that moment, a noise from the darker end of the room broke the silence.

"May I clear now? Because Mr P and me was hoping to go to the vicar's Christmas party in the village"

"Of course, Mrs P, but before you leave would you fetch a ladies hunting whip from the tack room," replied Margaret, Lizzy's mother.

Mrs P, the live-in servant, looked around the room, taking it all in. She quickly cleared the table to a trolley, which she pushed to the door. No one moved, and no one spoke.

As she was leaving the room, she turned and nodded towards Lizzy, "If you lot leave a mess in here tonight I'll have to set breakfast in the library."

Margaret replied, "Of course, Mrs P." The door closed behind Mrs P. Lizzy shuddered as James got up from his chair and walked around to stand behind her. He reached round and gently cupped her exposed breast. It fitted his hand perfectly.

"Pa, Ma what are you letting this man do? One of your oldest friends is groping me and you are letting him!"

"Don't whine, darling" replied her mother.

Margaret turned to Arthur and asked, "Do you think she is ready, now, tonight I mean?" Then she turned to the guests James and Grace, "Would you two mind? James you look happy enough clamped on my daughter's tit. What about you Grace, this isn't what you expected when we invited you over?"

Grace answered for both of them: "What a wonderful surprise. We would be delighted and privileged. I am sure James will enjoy watching Lizzy getting fucked and I am wet already."

Arthur, looking Lizzy up and down, gave his verdict, "Yes, Margaret, she is ready."

"Ready for what?" demanded Lizzy.

Margaret, Lizzy's mother spoke gently, "Soon you will be going up to university, where you will certainly be invited to join one of the private dining clubs. These used to be exclusively male but now women are allowed to join. Later you will marry. Your husband, like the men in the dining clubs, will have certain expectations of you, as your father has of me, and as James has of Grace. Tonight we will start to prepare you to meet these expectations."

"What do you mean, 'prepare'?" interrupted Lizzy.

Margaret continued "Put simply: we will train you to eroticise pain and humiliation, so you learn to enjoy it. You can say no, now or at any stage, and we will stop and not hold your decision against you. I was not offered this choice but times change. You are brave and you are not frightened of pain, Lizzy. I have seen you get back on your horse, finish a hunt with a broken arm, and ski a closed black run for a silly wager. We do not back down, Lizzy. Do it."

There was a long pause.

"Yes" said Lizzy, more firmly than anyone expected.

"Squeeze her tits, James." Grace had found a voice.

All this time James have been gently caressing Lizzy's right breast. Now he squeezed it hard, at the same time pulled down the rest of her bodice, and grabbed her left breast and twisted the nipple.

"Are you wearing drawers?" asked her father.

"No, Pa, I wasn't expecting this" Lizzy spat out.

Father, "Tights?"

Lizzy answered, "Hold up stockings"

At this moment, Mrs P returned carrying a Swain hunting whip, which she dropped it on the table in front of Lizzy. A hunting whip is like a riding crop, with the addition a light braided 'lash', about a metre and a half long, on one end. A hunting whip used to control hounds making a sharp crack. Mrs P looked at Lizzy and said, "That's the dress you mother wore Lizzy -"

"Thank you, Mrs P. Tell Mr P we are sorry it happened that you and he missed tonight, and let him know there will be something special for him at Christmas. Good night." Margaret dismissed the servant.

"It is time for the flower to open," announced Arthur.

Everyone, except Lizzy, seemed to know what this meant and what his or her role was to be. Grace fetched a cushion and threw is on the floor, Arthur and James stood in either side of Lizzy and stood her up, Margaret removed Lizzy's chair.

In one movement, the men lifted Lizzy, inverted her, and gently rested her head on the cushion on the floor. Although her arms were free, she needed them to help support herself in a kind of handstand. Her legs were now pointing to the ceiling. Her full skirt and petticoat fell open. Lizzy, although unable to see realised she must look just like an opening flower: long stocking-clad legs guiding the eye down to contrasting white and dark blue petals of the petticoat and skirt with her arse and sex as the centrepiece.

"Nice legs" James

"Good arse" Grace

"Is she wet?" Margaret

"Ma!" Lizzy called out, shocked at her mother's question, although her skirt mostly muffled the cry.

"Speak when you are spoken to, girl" barked her father, plunging his finger into her. "Soaking."

With his free hand, her father fished around inside her with his finger until Lizzy sharply drew breath, when he stopped.

"Don't stop," she breathed quietly.

"You've changed your tune girl. Now keep quiet, what happens now is nothing to do with you. You are an object. We will do things to you," explained her father. "James, whip her arse with that small whip. I have found her sweet spot and I will touch it each time you strike her."

"Arthur, go steady. She is not me: if you overdo it she will come too soon" pointed out Margaret.

"Then you watch her, Margaret and let me know if you think she is about to come and I will give her two or three hard strokes to bring her back," offered James. Margaret fetched a chair, sat down and lifted Lizzy's skirt so she could see her face. The little whip snapped across Lizzy's backside.

Lizzy gave out a startled, "Ouch!" Quickly followed by an intake of breath as her father's finger shifted slightly. Arthur and James watched each other and synchronized their movement carefully. After a little while, shiny film of sweat covered the girl's body. The little whip stung rather than hurt and Lizzy's main emotion was confusion. She was upside down, in the dark tent formed by her dress so unable to see who was doing what to her. She was unable to focus her thoughts: alternate pulses of pain and pleasure blocked out all rational thought.

"Would anyone like a glass of port? Grace, with no immediate part to play had fetched a tray of drinks from the sideboard.

They held Lizzy on the edge of climax for perhaps twenty minutes while she moaned gently, then as the two men felt they were able to judge her state more accurately Arthur brought her closer coming and James struck her harder with the little whip.

"I think she is going to pass out," said Margaret, watching Lizzy's face.

Grace, who had qualified as a doctor but never practiced, put down the drinks tray and stepped over to look at Lizzy.

"She is fine. Lift her on to the table. She will pass out completely when you bring her head up level, but that won't hurt her." Holding someone close to climax diverts blood away from the brain. One of the advantages of the flower routine, apart from its obvious aesthetic and sexual attractions is that, with the subject's head kept low, it takes longer for them to pass out.

They lifted her inert body onto the table. Grace adjusted her in to the recovery position. She looked a picture on the ancient table. Her lightly whipped arse had the slightest impression of red wheals; one breast was pressed against the table top and in between a confection of midnight blue and white fabric.

Arthur looked at her on the long polished table and started to unbutton his trousers, "I've got an awful hard on..."

"Arthur, you aren't going to fuck her, are you? You are her father and she is passed out, and besides who will fuck me?" asked Margaret.

"James has been looking at you with his tongue out all evening. I suggest that while I fuck Lizzy we have her lick out Grace. James and you can have the hearth rug," replied Arthur, positioning a chair for Grace to use to climb on to the table. "Sit there Grace, with her head between your legs. Grace deftly removed her knickers, popped them into her husband's breast pocket, and climbed onto the table. Arthur and James arranged Lizzy face down on the table, her waist level with the end and her feet each resting on the seat of a chair, allowing Arthur access to her now slightly raised vagina. She was just coming round as they put her head between Grace's legs and got her to grip the table on either side with her hands. Her first sensation as she came round was to feel the carving on the edge of the table with her fingertips "Thomas fecit me Anno Domini MDLXXXIII" Thomas made me 1531. Shortly after this, she became aware of Grace's hand guiding her mouth towards her, Grace's, sex. At this moment, her father drove his hard penis deep into her wet vagina. Her cry of surprise was all Grace was waiting for: she pulled Lizzy's open mouth hard on to her.

"You must have done this for the older girls at school Lizzy?" asked Grace, but she not interested in the answer. She just wanted Lizzy to utter more sounds to gurgle up through the juices now flowing from her vagina. "Now, lick, girl, lick."

Two or three thrusts from her father were all it took for Lizzy finally to come. It was a profound deep orgasm and the screech she let out into Grace's vagina brought her off too.

James and Margaret were too busy on the rug in front of the fire to notice anything, and Arthur was still completely hard. "Grace, darling, will you come here and finish me off? I fear Lizzy is good for nothing now."

"Of course Arthur, which hole?" asked Grace, lifting the skirt of her dress and doing a twirl.

"Oh, arse I think, since you are offering," replied Arthur with glee

"Arse it is then" she said bending over the arm of one of the comfortable armchairs to offer her arse to Arthur. "Do poke your cock in my cunt first to lubricate it. James seldom buggers me -- says it reminds him too much of school -- and I haven't used a stretcher for years so I am a quite tight," she said with an inviting smile.

Just then, Lizzy stirred, turned over, pulled up the front of her dress and stood up, "I going for a bath and bed"

The ever practical Grace called across from her positon over the arm of the chair, "are you on the Pill, darling?"

"Oh my god! I am not," said Lizzy, realising she had had unprotected sex with her father.

"Fish inside my bag, dear, you will find a couple of emergency contraception packs in there. The pharmacist in the village thinks I am still a doctor; bless him. Come and see me about getting on the pill."