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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / His Bride’s Shameful Training by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

His Bride’s Shameful Training by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Oh, that beastly girl!

Leticia could scarcely believe that Celia could utter such words, let alone lie there holding herself open for the men to see her most intimate charms. How could she utter that terrible monosyllable with its hard c beginning and its harder t ending? The girl in the story had called it her… her cunny, and even that word had made Leticia feel faint. And now this other word that Celia knew from the farmhouse, that made her mistress’ heart beat faster, though it seemed a better, a gentler word…




The awful, shameful, wicked words seemed to run round and round Leticia’s mind as she stood aghast, trying not to look and needing to look at the same time, turning her eyes away and then, unable to stop herself, turning them back. Celia lay there with a smile on her face, inviting those men to see what she had down there.

No, not only that… inviting Sir Henry to… to…


Oh, no. “Please,” Leticia whispered, and she meant by the imprecation so many things. Please, don’t make me. Please, be gentle with me.

Please, make my maiden cunny, my virgin pussy, stop being so very wet. Make my untried cunt, my little vagina, stop answering Sir Henry’s voice, and Celia’s naughtiness, and the memory of the terrible story, this way. Make the trickle of shame that just made its way onto my thigh, make the heat and the ache between my legs that I want so badly to rub away just a bit… make it just…

But she didn’t really want that, and knowing that she must lie to herself, and thus compound the lie she had told Mama and Sir Henry, and the false accusation she had made against Celia, made it all even worse. Sir Henry would whip her and whip her and whip her, wouldn’t he, with the cane across her little bottom, until she screamed, until she couldn’t bear to pull up her drawers, until she couldn’t sit down for ever and ever.

Leticia didn’t want the feeling to go away. She wanted to do the terrible thing Celia’s friend had taught her to do, that Celia had said a girl could do, if she kept quiet. Oh, if only Leticia hadn’t been so wrong about how Mama discovered the magazine, and she hadn’t accused Celia. If only Celia hadn’t told Leticia she had to kiss the country girl’s cunny, and Mama hadn’t seen them being so very naughty that way. Then the two girls might have enjoyed those wicked delights in secret, together, mightn’t they?

Then Celia wouldn’t have that satisfied smile on her face as she held her knees high and wide, so very clearly thinking of the strange, awful things Sir Henry had just said—how he meant the maid to take charge of her mistress’ wayward cunny and bottom.

Leticia bit her lip as she gazed down on her maid’s fair-haired private parts—the pout of her pink inner petals showing just a little through the outer lips, the strange folds at the top where Leticia knew now so much feeling lay hidden.

“Go ahead, Leticia,” Sir Henry said in a low, gentle voice, as if he understood all the turmoil of her soul. “Do just as Celia has done. Show me where I’m going to fuck you.”

She heard a tiny whimper emerge from her throat as if from a distant cousin, a parted friend, a girl from some realm of imagination.

How could he?

And yet, Leticia suddenly understood something that must, she knew, play a vital role in the strange future Sir Henry had opened to her with the unexpected news that he meant to marry her. Leticia felt, as she heard him speak in that way that brought the heat rushing to her face anew, that the baronet constituted the reason the lovely, fleeting fancy of lying abed quietly with Celia could never have come to pass.

That make-believe world where Leticia had not falsely accused the maid, and Celia had not made her mistress kiss her down there, and Mrs. Graves had not thrown back the covers to see the indecent sight… Sir Henry did not wish that world to exist. In his words, and in his tone of voice, Leticia heard that he wanted her subjected to his control in every way—above all the ways that concerned the parts of her into which it seemed he meant to thrust his hard cock. She looked down at Celia’s cunny, the place she had kissed so naughtily the previous night, and saw the same sort of wetness glistening that she felt running down her own thigh.

If she did as Sir Henry and the doctor commanded, they would see that wetness, and they would know that Leticia to her shame could not help wanting Celia’s little face between her own thighs, even if it meant that she must again kiss her maid’s cunny in return. Nor could she help wanting even… even to see, and to feel, Sir Henry’s penis, though he should flog her all the harder for her wanton yearning—though he should make those other measures more severe because Miss Leticia Stewart thought she might like to be fucked, though she did not think she could ever admit it in so many words.

Show me where I’m going to fuck you. As Leticia realized that Sir Henry’s plans to rule over her so wickedly, and even to train her in so debauched a manner for his pleasure, had found a lascivious answer between her thighs, she nearly giggled: what if she were to point to the bed and to say archly, “Why, Sir Henry, I thought you meant to fuck me upon this bed. Is not this room, then, the place where you intend to deflower my maiden cunt? Why need I show it to you, for do you not already stand within my bedchamber? Off with your trousers, then, and let your intended bride serve your cock as you deserve.”

All these imagined words, coming into Leticia’s mind in an eye-blink’s torrent, made the heat rush all over her body. Never, never could she say anything of the kind, no matter how her bridegroom excited her wayward cravings. To avoid thinking further about the meaning of such a forward fancy, she found she must obey: she climbed onto the bed next to Celia and turned upon her back.

She did not know, even then, whether she could assume the shameful posture demanded. She thought of what the doctor had said about shaving, down there… about Sir Henry wanting to see, and the necessity of training his bride to show her husband her cunt and her bottom whenever he liked, just as he liked. The idea of it… the idea of what would happen to her poor bottom, already spanked so hard, if she did not obey…

Leticia gave a little sob, and began to raise her knees, picturing the view the baronet and the physician would have, of two girls in the most shameful possible position, posed next to one another upon Leticia’s own bed.

“That’s right, Miss Stewart,” said Dr. Brown. “Now, Sir Henry, would you kindly bring me a basin of water, a towel, and some soap?”

“By all means,” the baronet answered. Leticia kept her eyes tightly closed, now, wishing that she could somehow also block the inner vision that showed two naked girls with their legs spread, ready for masculine attention: for examination, for punishment, for training.

For fucking. The heat in her face and in her loins, which had receded when the doctor asked for the basin, came rushing back.

“Girls,” the doctor said, “open your eyes, please.”

Had Celia closed her eyes, too? Leticia felt herself frown at the idea that perhaps the brazen country girl might not be quite so bold as she had seemed before. Leticia bit her lip and obeyed, to see the doctor standing over them, holding a metal device in his hand. It seemed to possess a sort of beak at the front and a complicated handle. The physician kept his hand open in order to display the thing to Celia and Leticia.

“When I have washed my hands,” he said, “I shall examine your private parts thoroughly inside and out. This speculum will go up your vaginas and then in your anuses.”

Leticia’s breathing came harshly now, as Dr. Brown showed by squeezing the strange handle how the beak opened, to… She swallowed hard as she understood: to let him see inside those shameful places.

“I will ascertain that you are healthy and ready for sexual coitus. If your hymens are intact, as I don’t doubt they are, I will be careful to leave them that way, so that Sir Henry can rupture them when he inserts his erect penis later this morning.”

Leticia felt her hips and her bottom move a little, in helpless, inexcusable need for something she did not understand. The ordeal of holding herself open seemed to increase that wicked feeling unbearably, and she could not suppress a tiny whimper at the thought of what her bottom must look like, moving so lewdly.

“That’s quite alright, Miss Stewart,” the doctor said consolingly. “I can see how aroused you have become, and that is quite normal. I will stimulate your clitorises, girls, after I finish the internal examination, to help you understand your body’s needs. I would ordinarily bring you to a sexual climax, but your future husband’s will is paramount in these matters, Miss Stewart, and he wishes to train you girls in a more exacting way, I fear. I would not have agreed to assist in his scheme, however, were I not convinced of his intention to permit you pleasure when you gratify his natural desires. You will experience orgasm soon, I assure you, if you do as you are told.”

Leticia had terribly little idea what to make of this information. Celia had said something about spending, hadn’t she? Was that the same thing as climax and orgasm? And in the story in the magazine, the girl had made something happen in her cunny that had seemed like it might make her die from pleasure. When Leticia had touched herself, too, just before Celia had come into her bedchamber, it had felt like that sort of thing—that spending—might be about to happen.

The door opened, and she had a glimpse of Sir Henry entering with the basin. He put it down upon the vanity table and then, as Dr. Brown receded in order to wash his hands, the baronet stepped closer, looming over the girls on the bed, tall and handsome. He looked down into Leticia’s eyes.

“You look lovely, darling,” he said. He turned to Celia. “And so do you, Celia. I am a fortunate man.”

Leticia saw, to her dismay, that his hands, which he had held clasped before his frock coat as he looked down, had separated, and begun to move slowly downward as he gazed into the faces of the naked young women arrayed upon the bed. He meant them to see what he did, what he would do, and Leticia felt faint at the thought of it, and then he laid his right hand upon her cunny, just as he must also have done to Celia, for she gave a little cry.

He held her, down there, very firmly, and rubbed with his fingers, his eyes now moving to the cunts he had claimed, back and forth between mistress’ brown-furred slit and maid’s golden-thatched one.

“These are mine,” he said. “I will decide how to train them, and how to enjoy them.”

To Leticia’s horror, his hand moved further down, until she felt a finger press at her tiniest hole, the little flower of her bottom.

“And these are mine,” Sir Henry said. She heard Celia whimper, heard herself whimper. “I will discipline you as you require, and fuck you here to master you completely, whenever I wish. Do you understand, girls? Say, Yes, sir.

“Yes, sir,” Celia whispered so submissively that Leticia couldn’t help turning her head upon the mattress to see what expression the girl’s face had upon it. Celia’s eyes were closed, and her brow furrowed. Her nostrils flared with her rough breathing. The sight made Leticia feel terribly wicked: suddenly she wanted to put her face back between her maid’s thighs and not stop kissing until Celia showed her what spend meant.

“Leticia?” Sir Henry asked in a warning voice. “Do you understand?” His finger pushed further into Leticia’s bottom-hole, and she moaned, turning to look up at him again and to see him smile down upon her.

How could she say why, but that smile made her want to please him despite all his beastliness. Or, perhaps, she reflected with yet another rush of heat through her body, because of the beastliness.

“Yes, sir,” she said very softly.

Sir Henry did not want to relinquish his marvelous position, but Dr. Brown stood ready now, the speculum in his right hand. Gently the baronet withdrew both the fingers he had inserted in the bottoms of his lovely girls, miss and maid. On his left, Celia made a charming little whining sound as he allowed her anus to close for the first time in some minutes. On his right his darling Leticia’s noise represented more a sob as her bottom lost the consolation—as Sir Henry thought it—of the mastering finger that told of a cock to come.

Both girls had closed their eyes, now, but they opened them again when they heard the scrape of the chair Dr. Brown brought from Leticia’s vanity table. He placed it in front of Celia’s pretty blonde cunt and pert bottom. Sir Henry compared the girls’ naked charms as he stepped back to take up a position behind the doctor. He thought he preferred Leticia’s fuller backside, but he could not help thanking providence for the good fortune he had in the variety of the two young women of whom he took possession today.

He meant to enjoy them both just as he liked in his unusual but happy home, and the differing delights to be had in fucking them would he felt sure add great seasoning to his life. He could even pose the bottoms next to one another, he reflected, and go from one to the other to see which truly gave his prick the most pleasure, as their owners cried out their submission under his pounding hips. Why, he could do that today, could he not?

“I’ll examine Miss Deaver first,” said Dr. Brown, “because she has had more experience in the ways of erotic stimulation. Miss Stewart, you are to listen closely to the instructions I give your maid, and prepare yourself to follow them when your turn arrives.”

Leticia’s only response was her breath, coming in sharp puffs through her flaring nostrils.

“Do you understand, darling?” Sir Henry asked. He moved a little closer to the bed so that he could once again gaze down at his charmer. She frowned as she saw him come into view, and bit her lip. He felt certain she had thought, just as he had intended, of the caning to come, and of how its severity could be so easily adjusted depending on her conduct for the physician’s examination.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and again he found the words the sweetest he could ever hear.

“Now, try to relax, Miss Deaver,” Dr. Brown said. “I am going to put my speculum in your vagina now. The same muscles you undoubtedly use to respond to your fingers’ caress, and which you used especially when Miss Stewart excited your clitoris with her tongue last night, are under your control when you concentrate. If you can relax them for me, the speculum will feel odd, but not painful.”

Sir Henry, watching a gynecological examination for the first time, looked on in fascination as the shiny metal penetrated Celia’s cunt, urging the pink inner petals to either side as it slid within the virgin tunnel of her girlish sex. The little maid cried out, and let go of her knees in alarm for a moment.

“Hold still, girl,” Dr. Brown said, becoming impatient and severe. “Or I shall have Sir Henry render you immobile with the restraints in my bag. And relax your vagina. A clever girl like you, who enjoys masturbation, knows how. Show me.”

With a delightful whimper, Celia took hold of her knees again, spread them wide, and clearly did as the physician had asked, for he said, “Good girl,” and the speculum penetrated her still further, though not at anything like full length.

“You’ll see, Sir Henry,” said Dr. Brown, “that I may easily spare her maidenhead for you to rupture with your penis by simply entering at a shallow depth and then…”

The baronet watched the physician’s hand close on the handle of the device, and Celia gave a soft, startled cry.

“…easing the vagina open just a little ways so that I can get a reasonably good look inside. There. Yes. Have a look for yourself: you’ll see the hymen, ready for first coitus, and a very healthy color to the vagina as a whole. This girl is quite ready for intercourse and, if I may be so bold, clearly very much in need of it.”

A quiet sob came from Leticia, whether in jealousy or in sympathy or both. Celia merely breathed quickly, her little breasts rising and falling rapidly as the doctor held her open for Sir Henry to look inside. The baronet gazed with great interest at the pale ring that seemed to be what the doctor meant him to understand to be the girl’s maidenhead. The thought of opening her there, of thrusting through the tender barrier, got him monstrously hard.

“I see,” he said to confirm his observation. “Lovely.”

“And now the anus,” Dr. Brown said. That, too, drew a little wail from Leticia.

“Hush, darling,” Sir Henry admonished her. “The doctor must make certain your bottoms are ready for training, too.”

Celia whimpered, then, as the speculum began to push into the much narrower aperture of her backside.

“You know how to relax these muscles, too, Miss Deaver,” said the doctor. “You do it every day. Let the beak in now. Sir Henry, you will find this bottom quite tight on your penis at first, but I shall order you a set of plugs that will widen the girl just as much as you like. In the meantime, anal coitus will be uncomfortable for her, but certainly not harmful if you keep Miss Deaver’s anal sessions to no more than once a day. I expect that having Miss Stewart’s bottom to use as well will make that restriction bearable. And of course you will be able to enjoy this girl’s vagina and mouth just as you please.”

“Quite so,” Sir Henry replied, his prick swelling even further at the physician’s dry but extremely stimulating assessment of the modes of pleasure that would soon be available to him.

“Oh, please,” Leticia whispered. Her eyes had closed once again, and she worried charmingly at the inside of her cheek as she listened to the men discuss the masculine pleasures to be found in two such beautiful, naked female bodies.

“You must wait your turn, Miss Stewart,” said the doctor in a jovial voice, turning to give Sir Henry a tiny wink. “Your bottom shall have the speculum in a few moments, I assure you—after I’ve given it a little bath in carbolic acid.”

“Acid?” Leticia exclaimed, her brown eyes flying open again. Celia, too, had widened her blue gaze in alarm.

Dr. Brown chuckled. “Have no fear, Miss Stewart. That certainly isn’t what Sir Henry and I mean by the special measures we plan to take with regard to your young vulvas, before he deflowers you there.”

“B-but…” Leticia stammered. “You said… acid, didn’t you, Doctor?”

Her fear made her face crumple into a moue that Sir Henry found intensely arousing, but he also felt a tenderness toward her distress rise rather unexpectedly in his heart.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said. “Carbolic acid is what the doctors have begun to use to make sure the germs Dr. Pasteur discovered don’t go where they shouldn’t.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Brown confirmed, “that is a very sensible explanation, Sir Henry. Don’t be afraid, Miss Stewart: I shall clean the speculum with carbolic acid, but the acid will be gone by the time I use the instrument to examine your vagina. Miss Deaver, you may lower your legs for the moment. I am finished with you.”

As he spoke he began to do just as he had said: he took a vial from his bag and applied a solution to a rag, with which he thoroughly cleansed the shiny speculum. Leticia watched as well as she could manage from her vantage point, raising her pretty face, wreathed in slightly disheveled brown hair that had grown a little damp from perspiration caused no doubt by the excitement of her brief spanking and the stimulation with which Sir Henry had followed it.

“As I was saying, Miss Stewart,” he continued, “your own anus will have the speculum inside it soon—never fear. Society has developed some absurd notions about anal coitus, but I think I can assure you that however you feel about it, the act will soon be an important part of your married life. Or do I speak falsely, Sir Henry?”

“Oh, no,” the baronet replied, trying to keep a broad smile from his lips so that Leticia would see just how seriously he took the sexual use of her anus. “You speak most accurately, Doctor. Both these girls will receive regular bottom-fucking, just as you prescribe in your estimable treatise.”

As Dr. Brown moved the chair from the foot of the bed to the head, where Leticia waited with her brown-haired cunt, the lovely girl asked in a horrified whisper, “Treatise?”

“Oh, indeed,” said the physician, wasting no time but pressing the beak of the speculum into the sweet pout of her young cunt. Leticia let out a forlorn sort of wail. “Pray relax your vagina, Miss Stewart. You have not given your vulva as much pleasure as Miss Deaver has, I know, but I am sure the memory is quite vivid. Moreover, I would have you reflect that these same muscles will be those Sir Henry trains to give his penis pleasure when he penetrates you in the act of matrimonial coitus.”

“Oh, no,” Leticia whispered, twisting her head slowly from side to side upon the mattress. “Oh, no. Please.”

“See how she lubricates?” the doctor said. “This one is more naturally erotically inclined even than the country girl. It happens that way sometimes, when the arousal is tamped down by society. Relax, now, Miss Stewart. There we are. Good girl. Yes, definitely intact. Have a look, Sir Henry, if you please.”

Leticia whimpered, and her head threshed more rapidly in quiet, ineffectual defiance. For a moment she let go of her spread knees, but Dr. Brown gave her left thigh a sharp slap, and with a cry of startled pain the girl reassumed the posture demanded.

“Very nice,” Sir Henry commented, peering into the place he could not wait to thrust his hard cock. Leticia’s cunt was a darker shade of pink than Celia’s, and the redness inside the cavern of her vagina seemed to tell of a greater heat. “Both you girls have just the sort of cunt a man loves to fuck.”

“Indeed,” the physician contributed. “I cannot remember ever having seen a more attractive pair of vaginas and anuses. Sir Henry is a very fortunate man to have the right of the phallus over you.” He withdrew the device from Leticia’s cunt, and seemed to recall a train of thought he had left behind a few moments previous. “You asked about my treatise, Miss Stewart, I think.”

Leticia whimpered, then, for Dr. Brown had accompanied his words with the pressure of the speculum’s beak against the tiny brown button of her anus.

“Open this, please,” the doctor said brusquely. “Remember what I told Miss Deaver: you do this every day, and soon you will do it for Sir Henry’s penis as well, when he masters you.”

The baronet’s lovely, naked bride-to-be gave a cry of shame and unmistakable if unwilling arousal, and Sir Henry had to swallow hard at the lewd spectacle of the girl obeying Dr. Brown. Her sweet round bottom surged, her hips moved, and the shiny device entered deeply.

“That’s it, Miss Stewart,” said the doctor. “Good girl. Now I’ll just open you up a little.”

She wailed again, and repeated the movement of her backside upon the counterpane. Sir Henry watched her hands clutch spasmodically at her knees, and he noticed how very shiny her sweet cunt had grown with her need. Miss Leticia Stewart, disgracing herself utterly as the doctor spread her bottom open upon his speculum, constituted the most arousing sight the baronet had ever witnessed.

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