Page 12 of How to Lose a Dowry in Three Bucks
“For your complete ruination, we’ll need to train three holes,” he said, tapping the chalk near the mouth, cunny, and arse of the stick figure. In the middle of the night, pedagogical zeal had swept him away, and he considered it a most illustrative diagram; but now, in the light of day and viewed through Miss Stafford’s eyes, he worried it was too rudimentary to be instructive.
She nodded, squinting at the board.
“And we’ll prepare you to receive in these places,” he said, suddenly uncertain of himself. “To take…”
“Manhoods,” she supplied.
“Cocks.”
Sophia nodded bravely, determination written on her face. My, she was a brave, game girl.
“Can I see one?” she asked hopefully. “Up close?”
Matt coughed and wondered what he’d done to deserve to shoulder such a burden as arranging Miss Stafford’s ruination.
“I don’t think I’m the best example,” he said, angling his hips away from her. “Let’s focus on the hole aspect.”
“The hole aspect,” she repeated seriously, as if memorizing the content of the lecture.
Matt moved to the table he’d prepared the night before and swept the tablecloth cover off it with a flourish. “To ease the first use of said holes, we’ll train you with a variety of implements.”
Sophia’s eyes roved over the table of plugs and dilators of all sizes, then took in the jug of oil and stack of toweling.
“I suppose we should,” said Matthew, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the scope of work ahead of them, “start with a plug in your arse.”
Miss Stafford nodded studiously, but remained seated.
“Well, up you go,” he said, waving his hand to show she should move.
“I don’t know how to arrange myself,” she confessed.
Of course. This was no trained courtesan; this was a virginal spinster who needed instruction in her own ruination. Matt wanted to kick himself; he was making a hash of things.
“Kneel on that chaise, bum in the air, hands on the seat,” he said, moving to show the hands and knees position.
She scrambled, and soon he was behind that little arse, eyes on the hem of her chemise. He grabbed it and pulled the thin fabric up to her waist.
Beneath, she was bare. He groaned.
“Is everything alright?” she asked, looking behind her.
He regarded that little hole and her furred cunny lips and found he could only grunt in response. No, nothing was fine. Everything was terrible. He had a ripe, virginal miss bent over in his own home, tempting him until he feared blood might run out of his ears!
Matt oiled the smallest plug while muttering to himself. “I’m going to train your arse first. Something small. You wish to proceed?”
“Yes,” she said in a tiny voice that became a gasp when he smoothly pressed the flared plug into the ring of her arse.
“We’ll have to work up from there, but I don’t want to start you larger,” he said. “Now lie on your back and let me see your cunny.”
She shuffled around uncomplainingly until she reclined with her chemise once again modestly lowered.
“Is that how a woman needing utter ruin behaves?” he asked imperiously, looking down at her clenched thighs.
Matthew regretted his harsh words when she carefully spread her trembling legs and lifted her shift, regarding him with cautious eyes. He needed to make this right.
“Lovely,” he said, sinking onto the chaise next to her and stroking up her inner thigh.
Sophia looked like she might expire in fright. And who would blame her, a gently bred girl trained to fear men, forced to prepare her body for hard use so she might achieve some measure of independence and safety? He must give her one last shock, make one more attempt to scare her from this chosen path, or he’d always suspect himself a scoundrel.
