Annie laid her head on his shoulder, settling into his chest with a comfortable sigh. He had to put one arm around her so as to have the freedom of its movement.
He cleared his throat and began to read.
‘A high-set sun illuminated the meadows and hedgerows, its rays roving over the breathing and the inanimate alike. It bathed cow and sheep, parsley and nettle in its golden warmth, but today, could it but know it, there was a fascinating addition to the bucolic serenity—’
‘Never mind that, what about Emma?’ said Annie.
‘Don’t interrupt, or you may find that you share her fate.’
She wriggled delightedly against him and James wondered, not for the first time, why his idle threats excited her so.
‘How pitiless that post-noon heat felt to Emma as she tried in vain to extinguish the fire that raged at her rear. Those fellows, all four of whom still stood about her, leering and laughing at her fate, had plied the whip with a most diabolical will and her poor little round bum was all welted and throbbing, as if stung by a swarm of bees.’
‘Poor creature,’ murmured Annie, but James chose to ignore her this time.
‘As if it were not enough that the quartet’s insolent eyes roamed at will over her naked body, Emma feared that any moment a cart from one of the neighbouring farms would pass by, its wheels throwing up a cloud of dust, while the men on the box would see her bare, whipped bottom and, should they choose to alter the angle of view, her breasts squashed against the post to boot. Worst of all, the ringleader of that devilish coterie had made her spread her thighs apart, so that he could flick the tip of his whip lazily over the soft flesh located within, thus opening her tender little cunny to the gaze of whomever chose to feast upon the sight. And such a passer-by would see the swollen lips and the fat red bud that nestled inside, all downed with Emma’s pale, sparse hairs. They would also see that little portal, once so tightly guarded, now the happy resting place of many an eager cockstand while Emma lay on her back or her belly, welcoming all to her glistening quim.’
‘Heavens, Jem, how does it all come to you? It’s too rich for me. I never thought my ears was delicate, but you make me blush.’
‘Should I stop reading?’
‘Oh no, go on, do.’
‘No matter how she strained against her thick rope bonds, she could not alter her shameful position, nor could her hands, tied high above her head, reach down to shield or soothe the agonies of her posterior.
“Sirs,” she begged, “I have paid the price for my wanton behaviour at the inn last night, and heavy toll you have exacted from my poor sore bottom. Won’t you please release me now and I will thank each of you on my knees, with my mouth.”
“Why, that’s a fine offer, naughty maid,” spoke the chief of the swells. “But we have another means of showing your gratitude in mind. For when a man helps a maid understand how she has erred by applying merited chastisement, he has surely earned the right to take such payment from her as he desires.”’
‘What client is this?’ asked Annie. ‘Who reads this story?’
‘I have no idea,’ said James truthfully. ‘My uncle makes all the arrangements, by correspondence. It could be anybody.’
‘You don’t know their names?’
‘I know nothing about them. I picture a lonely, wealthy old gentleman alone at a bureau, for some reason, but it could be anybody. I write what I myself would care to read and, by some stroke of fortune, it appeals to people I shall never know nor meet.’
‘But it ain’t made you rich, or you wouldn’t be living here.’
‘No,’ he said, with a tight smile. ‘It will never make me rich. But it pays my bills while I am writing my other material.’
‘Oh yes. Your novel. You’ll remember me when you’re as famous as Mr Dickens, won’t you?’
‘Is that sarcasm I detect?’
‘No, indeed! I believe you will be famous one day. But I hope you won’t put me in none of your books.’
‘I might put you in this one. Then perhaps I will have the means to whip you into silence.’
Her mouth formed an ‘O’ and she sucked in a breath, her cheeks flaring red.
‘Carry on, I’m sure,’ she said.
‘“Oh, Sir, I wonder what you can mean,” the fearful dairy girl said. For never before had her offer to bathe a manhood in the luxurious warmth of her mouth and tongue been rejected. Many dozens of pricks had she sucked in her dissolute life, and many gallons of their creamy issue had she swallowed, licking her lips with satisfaction of a task well completed.’
‘Stop there.’ Annie’s voice was a whisper.
‘Is it not to your taste?’