The Devotee

(This part is an account of a young Edwardian woman having a crisis of conscience, which also happens to be a first-time-anal story.)

*

From the diary of Edith Fawcett:

Mon 7 August 1905 (contd.)

I dried myself and sat by the open window, wearing only a robe, to let my hair dry in the evening sunshine.

I looked out across the lawns to the trees, and at the lowering sun, listening to the birds, feeling my body become calm.

The exercise had been good for me. I was pleasantly tired.

Now there was the prospect of food, drink, conversation, and the challenge that was taking shape at the back of my mind.

Presently, I dressed. Rather than wear one of my blouses, I searched through my dresser and found what I had sometimes worn in other secretarial positions: a plain shirt and a dark tie. I put these on, and then my jacket, and then viewed myself in the mirror.

I was both woman and man: my long hair pinned up behind my head; my jacket, shirt and tie distinctly masculine; my skirt proclaiming me a woman.

I smiled at my reflection and went downstairs. It was a little before half past seven.

I entered the study to find Mr Squire and Mr Scope. I was poured a sherry. Once again, I detected Mr Scope looking me up and down.

We had a pleasant talk, with Mr Scope on particularly witty form, and then went to the dining room for soup and veal cutlets. Mr Scope pressed Mr Squire for his early memories of his trips to Italy, which were detailed and rich in incident. (Of course, he had written about them inItalian Days, but it was still pleasant to hear them from his mouth.)

The evening wore on. I was ravenously hungry, and let myself have an extra glass of wine. But I tempered my consumption with regular glasses of water.

At nine we retired to the study, and Mr Squire and Mr Scope lit cigars. I do not smoke, but I enjoy the smell of cigars, and they talked quite freely.

At twenty to ten, Mr Squire drained his glass of port and announced that all the exercise meant that he was quite ready for bed. We rose, and bade him goodnight.

Then Mr Scope and I were alone. He offered me more port, and I accepted a small glass. Then we sat, companionably.

'Well,' said he, 'this was a very pleasant day. It was rather jolly to have a swim in a brand new pool. Congratulations on all your work in bringing it to life.'

'I merely wrote a lot of letters and paid a lot of bills,' I said. 'The work was not mine.'

'You are too modest,' he said, 'although you did cut a fine figure in that, if I may say so, immodest swimming costume.'

'Thank you, Mr Scope,' I said. 'You looked rather fine in your own.'

He smiled demurely.

'Thank you,' he said. 'I no longer get to use it terribly often.'

'Did you swim a great deal when you were younger?'

'At Cambridge? My friends and I were rather notorious for it. But that little fellowship is long dispersed, alas.'

'You have never thought of marrying?' I said carefully. 'Then you and your wife could enjoy the pleasure of swimming together.'

'No,' he said in an affectedly thoughtful voice. 'I seem never to have met the person who could make me ultimately happy.'

There was a pause.

'Not even,' I said softly, 'our host?'

His gaze swivelled towards me. He was instantly wary but smiled with his mouth alone.

'I'm sure I don't know what you mean,' he said.

'Mr Scope,' I said, 'I am myself attracted to both women and men.'

'That's very interesting,' he said, 'but I fail to see how it is relevant.'

'Last night,' I said, 'I was lying in bed when I realised I had forgotten your book. I came downstairs to fetch it and, while I was at the foot of the stairs, I overheard some of your conversation with Mr Squire.'

He went pale.

'What did you think you heard.'

'I heard enough,' I said 'I know what you offered him, and I heard him refuse you.'

He looked positively stricken. I leaned forward.

'Mr Scope,' I said, 'please understand that I would never, ever reveal this to anyone else, on my living soul. Your secrets are entirely safe with me. I am, after all, a secretary. It is my job to keep secrets.'

'What do you propose to do, then,' he said.

'Nothing,' I said. 'I should be a terrible extortioner. Anyway, what could I prove? I overheard a conversation that was none of my business.'

'Why are you talking about extortion, Miss Fawcett,' he said warily.

'Oh dear,' I said. 'Because I thought you would be worried about it, and now this conversation has gone down a path that I did not intend at all. I can only assure you that I would sooner die than break a confidence of a friend of Mr Squire's. Not to mention the affection I feel for you, which makes me sympathise with you to the point that I could not possibly betray you. I swear that I will never tell another soul.'

He seemed to relax slightly, and poured himself some more port, and drank deeply.

'One cannot be too careful,' he said.

'That is a subject to which I have given some thought,' I said. 'I believe that it is quite possible to be too careful. One may forfeit important experiences.'

'I'm not sure I catch your meaning.'

I drank some of my own port, to give myself courage.

'I know that you hoped, on this trip, to give yourself to Mr Squire,' I said.

I looked at him carefully, and he returned my gaze but made no motion of confirmation or denial.

'I know that you must now be rather unsatisfied,' I went on. 'I admire the way you have carried off your disappointment, without spoiling the atmosphere. However...'

I paused, feeling myself go pink, from a combination of alcohol and embarrassment.

'You do not have to be quite so unsatisfied,' I said.

'How do you propose to satisfy me, Miss Fawcett,' he said, smiling thinly. 'Do you perhaps know some obliging local man, whose discretion can be trusted.'

'No,' I said. 'You may have me.'

His smile broadened and became a touch more sympathetic.

'Ah,' he said. 'That will not work, I am afraid. I am no lover of the female form.'

'I am not suggesting you have me as a woman, Mr Scope. I propose that you have me as a man.'

His smile faded.

'Miss Fawcett,' he said, 'you do not know what you are proposing.'

'I am twenty-three, Mr Scope,' I said. 'I am a modern woman. I am not wholly unacquainted with what people may do in private. I know very well what I am proposing.'

'But why would you do this?'

'Because, in my present mood, I very much desire for someone to have sexual intercourse with me, and you are the only person available, and I am content for it to be done in whatever way pleases you.'

He stared at me, wide-eyed.

'One way of thinking about this, if you like,' I said, 'is that I offer you my body as a guarantee against my revealing your secret. For, if we were to do this, and it should become known, we should both be guilty of a crime.'

'I should be guilty of one,' he said. 'You yourself should not. Our late queen, God rest her, refused to allow there to be laws against practices she could not believe women took part in.'

'Well, that is a fair point. But if it became known that Ioffered myselfto be used for the purpose of... gross indecency,' I said, 'I should scarcely be able to bear the shame. Imagine what people would think. So we shall simply have to not let anyone know.'

'Miss Fawcett,' he said, 'I have a delicate question to ask.'

'Ask away,'

'Are you a virgin?'

'Not at all,' I said. 'I have experienced pleasure with both women and men. Well. A man.'

'I see,' he said. 'But you do understand that this experience is not like the coupling of a man and a woman?'

'Actually,' I said, 'the Irish peasantry are rumoured to engage in it on a regular basis, in order to fulfil their desires, while circumventing the Roman church's prohibition on normal birth control measures. Although that may be a slander on those unhappy people.'

He laughed.

'I mean,' he said, 'that you may find it unpleasant, painful, humiliating or otherwise distressing.'

'Then I shall find it those things,' I said, 'or perhaps I shan't. I nevertheless wish to have the experience. If I find that I cannot go on, I will ask you to stop, and am prepared to trust in your good nature that you shall do so.'

'You must be feeling exceptionally sensual, this evening, Miss Fawcett,' he said, and there was a challenge in his tone that excited me.

'I am,' I said, looking straight at him.

He was silent for a moment.

'What about me,' he said with an ironical smile. 'What if we find ourselves together and ready to proceed, but in the event, I am simply unaroused, and unable to... dance?'

'Then we shall call the whole thing off and go to our respective beds, sadder and wiser.'

We regarded each other, and I realised that, once again, I had surprised him, and he was weighing me up.

'Why did you think I would consider it,' he murmured.

'Mr Scope,' I said, 'do not deny that you have not completely failed to notice my body.'

'I can't,' he admitted.

'So, I know that you are not utterly physically indifferent to me. I have to ask, then, what is your answer?'

He stared at the carpet for a moment. Then looked up.

'Miss Fawcett,' he said, 'I should like to have you.'

'Then let us do this,' I said, standing up. He rose too.

'Where do you wish to...' he said.

'In my room, in the south wing,' I said. 'I shall feel more comfortable there, I shall have all my things about me, and it is further away from Mr Squire's room than your room is. We shall have privacy.'

'Very well,' he said.

We looked at each other. We are approximately the same height.

'I know that you are a gentleman, sir,' I said. 'I am trusting you with my body. I hope you will at least try to make this experience agreeable to me.'

'I shall do my best, but you should know that when it comes to women, I am quite inexperienced. Please don't hesitate to instruct me as to what you should like me to do.'

'I shall not. I shall go up now, and you should come up a little later.' He nodded.

We stood looking at each other, for a moment of exquisite awkwardness, and then I turned and went up the stairs to my room.

I undressed, let down my hair and put on a robe. After about fifteen minutes, there was a discreet knock at my door. I opened it.

Mr Scope stood there, still in his evening clothes. He was holding something out to me. I looked down at it.

It was a tin. In large black letters on the lid were the words, UNIVERSAL ENEMA KIT.

'If you could oblige,' he said delicately. I smiled as winsomely as I could, under the circumstances.

'Of course,' I said. 'Please return in ten minutes.'

I took the tin and went back into the room, into the bathroom, and locked the door.

After ten of the most humiliating minutes of my life, which I shall absolutely not recount here, I flushed the lavatory, washed my lower body with soap and warm water, dried myself and put my robe on again. I went to the door and opened it, and there was Mr Scope. I ushered him in.

I shut the door and turned the key. We went into the centre of my bedroom and looked at each other.

'Well,' I said, 'how should you like to proceed?'

'I suppose,' he said, 'we might start with... a kiss? That is the normal way of things, between folk who...'

'Oh. Yes, good idea,' I said. 'A kiss. Excellent.'

We put our arms rather awkwardly around each other and then fastened our lips upon each other's. It was quite pleasant to begin with, but Mr Scope kept his mouth closed, and an experimental probe with my tongue did not prompt him to open it. We broke off the kiss.

'Let's perhaps not kiss,' I said. 'That felt wrong.'

'Yes,' he said. 'On reflection... yes.'

'Well. I would offer to undress,' I said, 'but as you see, I am almost...'

'I shall undress,' he said. 'Would you... care to watch?'

'Certainly,' I said, and sat on the edge of my bed.

Mr Scope removed his jacket, shoes, waistcoat, socks, trousers, then shirt. He stood in his long undergarments.

'This is very odd,' he said, blushing. 'Undressing before a woman.'

'For what it is worth,' I said, 'I am enjoying it.'

He reached down to the hem of the garment, then turned his back on me and slipped them down over his hips and down his legs. He had quite a firm rear end, and his body was pleasant, if not as toned as Mr Page's.

Then he slowly turned and looked at me. He had fine arms and shoulders, at least. His penis was not completely flaccid. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

'You are very handsome,' I said, smiling, and it was true.

'Thank you,' he said.

I stood up, reached down to the belt of my robe... and then turned and faced away from him, and loosened it, and slipped my robe off, so that he too saw me naked, but from behind.

'Ahh,' he said, with a rather pleased sigh. 'Yes.'

'Do you feel like you wish to continue,' I murmured over my shoulder.

'Oh yes,' he said. 'My. You are very lovely, Miss Fawcett.'

'Thank you.'

I got onto my bed and lay prone. Mr Scope got on behind me, and I parted my legs.

Despite all my efforts at sang-froid, I found that I was trembling slightly.

'This makes it very much easier to kiss you,' he said. I turned my head so he could see the side of my face.

'I should like that.'

He leaned down and kissed the side of my face, and I turned my head further, and this time, his tongue entered my mouth, and I began to properly relax.

He kissed my shoulders and spine, and I sighed, and relaxed a little. Then he reached behind him and produced something I couldn't quite see. It was another tin; I heard the lid being unscrewed.

'What is that,' I murmured.

'It is grease,' he said. 'Without it, I could hurt you.'

'Very well.'

He was breathing heavily, and after a moment I felt his finger rubbing the grease between my buttocks and smearing it over my anus. I gasped. I understood that some lubricant made sense in this particular situation, but it was still a shock to have some other person touch me there.

'Use as much of it as you like,' I said.

'Have no fear,' he said. 'I shall be as gentle as I can, going in. Once one is... inside, it becomes a great deal easier for the one whose inside is being gone into.'

'Thank you for telling me,' I said. I was hugely excited, but it was hardly pleasure I was feeling. More the thrill of doing something completely new and forbidden.

'I shall have to put some of this inside you,' he whispered.

'If you say so,' I said, and then I felt his finger pushing into the ring of my anus and I heard myself give a rather strangled whimper.

'Are you all right?'

'Yes,' I gasped.

His finger parted me and slid inside. It was quite extraordinary, a sensation I cannot describe in words. My chest felt tight. It had something to do with a feeling of having abdicated myself; of willingly giving myself over to him. A combination of fear and exhilaration.

I closed my eyes and gave another shuddering breath, with a little whimper at the end.

'Is it painful,' he asked.

'No. Just rather overwhelming.'

'Do you wish to stop?'

'Oh no,' I said. 'Pray continue.'

'You are doing splendidly,' he said. 'You have a very lovely behind.'

'Do you think,' I gasped, 'you could reach beneath me, and stroke my sex.'

'Oh. Er, yes. One moment.'

He knelt behind me and continued to move his finger about inside my back passage, and reached around with me with his other hand and massaged me, rather in the manner of a hesitant and squeamish apprentice baker handling bread dough for the first time. I reached down, took his hand, and showed him the proper place and correct motions, and he obligingly imitated me. I began to feel slightly aroused, at last. I squirmed, beginning to feel that I could, after all, do this.

He withdrew his finger. I opened my eyes, although my face was buried in the sheet.

'Do you feel ready,' he said hoarsely.

'I am ready.'

'Good,' he said. 'Because I am about to enter you.'

I took a deep breath. He mounted himself upon my rear end, and his weight pressed me down, and I felt his penis parting my buttocks. I moaned softly.

The pleasure from my loins was beginning to course through me, but now there was this alien organ about to enter me in the most forbidden orifice. I shut my eyes again and breathed deeply.

His right hand briefly squeezed my right hand, in a comradely gesture, which I appreciated. And then he reached between us and pushed forward, and I felt him guiding his penis so that it opened up my anus and moved slowly inside me. I grimaced and gasped sharply, for it stung more than a little.

'Do you wish me to stop,' he said into my ear.

'I wish you to get to the part where it gets easier,' I grated.

'Then I shall,' he said, and he withdrew his hand and pushed again, and I moaned as the broad head of his penis slid inside the tight ring of my anus, and the ring then closed about the narrower shaft, and then his length was sliding up inside me.

It was indeed easier on my rear end, but where I felt it was in my soul.

It was, by far, the most intimate and overwhelming thing anyone had ever done to me. Not necessarily the most enjoyable, at all; but the one that most jolted me.

I was sprawled face down on my bed, naked, while a man of entirely Uranian inclinations sodomised me from behind. There was nothing to do but receive him, and feel his hand stroking me, and his lips on my neck and back, and his weight pressing me down, and his organ splitting me, like a finger pushing into a ripe peach.

'Oh god,' I groaned, my eyes shut tight.

'Is that easier,' he panted.

'Oh yes,' I said. 'It is just very much more intense than I expected. I feel like I urgently need to use the water closet.'

'That's normal,' he said, pumping slowly into me.

'Very good to know,' I gasped.

Mr Scope lay on me and pumped me, and his fingers, which fortunately were quick learners, found the right spot and kept up a steady rhythm, and although there was a war in my body between the pleasure he was causing me around my front and the humiliation I was experiencing behind, something in me, perhaps my feelings of terrible guilt about Ida, made me feel that to be buggered by Mr Scope was no more than I deserved.

I gritted my teeth and tried to will myself to let go and let myself climax, but I was still all too aware of Mr Scope's member pumping into my rectum. I tried, again and again, to relax myself and find the experience simply pleasurable, but my feelings and sensations were too complex and confusing, and it was all too unfamiliar.

And then, just as I was on the point of asking Mr Scope to stop, I was visited, as if to compensate for my discomfort, by a vivid memory of Ida, kneeling before me in the grass beside the pool, her right hand stroking me, her dark eyes staring into mine, her mouth slightly open, as I sat naked and exposed before her.

The little bead of moisture upon her lower lip.

It utterly shattered my weakened defences, and my body remembered the sensations I felt that day, and I yielded to them in an instant.

I heard myself give a muffled whimper of shame and desire as I squirmed beneath him, and then, I felt the pleasure wash through me and I moaned, with what was more than half a sob.

His muscle inside me continued to piston slowly in and out, and I moved my hips with him, increasingly insensible of myself and my position, and the fact that I was the perfectably respectable secretary of an eminent writer, because the all too evident facts were that I was no longer the perfectly respectable anything, but a shameless and irresponsible hussy who was allowing herself to be used as a substitute boy by a popular novelist, out of a mixture of pity, curiosity, lust and the need to mortify myself.