Free Fifty Shades of Victorian Desire by Davina Charleston

the act of emission.
    Sophy told us a funny story of an elderly couple, brother and sister, who were staying in the hotel last summer. They were Scots, Mr. and Miss McLachlan, the brother a man of nearly seventy, whilst his sister was only a year or two younger.
    They had two bedrooms communicating, as Mr. McLachlan said his sister was liable to frights in the night, and could not sleep unless she was close at hand to him, and able to run into his room when a sudden fright came.
    She was curiously excited to find out more about them, especially as one or other of the beds always seemed unusually tumbled, and once she found several spots and smears of blood on the lower sheet.
    The weather was very warm, and Mr. McLachlan used to have his bedroom window partially open, although the blind was always drawn down, so as their rooms were on the first floor, it occurred to Sophy that the gardener’s light ladder, which he used for trimming the grape vines, etc., would just enable her to see all that was going on. Bob, the gardener, being her sweetheart, she easily persuaded him to place the ladder for her, and mind it whilst she went up to peep at the old people. To further her purpose she had fixed the blind so that when pulled down it would just leave about half an inch of space at the bottom, and so afford every facility for both seeing and hearing everything from the outside.
    It was rather a dark night when she and Bob put their plan in operation, and this is her description of the scene.

    â€˜Mr. McLachlan is seated in an easy chair, apparently absorbed in reading several letters, which the old gentleman would kiss as he finished reading each of them.
    â€˜Enter his sister on tiptoe, till she stood behind the chair glaring at the letters he was so taken up with, grinding her teeth, and shaking a birch rod over his head.
    â€˜At last she snatches a letter, “Ha, ha! caught you again, sir, reading that minx’s letters. Have you not promised me over and over again that you will give her up, you faithless wretch, I’ll teach you to love any one but your sister! Eh – you’re frightened, are you? Take down your breeches, sir, this moment.”
    â€˜The brother looks awfully frightened, but she takes him by the wrist, and leads him to the bed, and I could see the old girl had only her chemise and drawers on under her dressing gown. She tied both hands by the wrists, with a piece of cord which depended from the top frame of the four-poster, then one ankle to the right and the other to the left leg of the bed, so that he was most comfortably fixed up, indeed to judge by his looks he really dreaded her. I heard him frequently appeal for mercy.
    â€˜â€œOh, Maria, you won’t now, pray don’t, I can’t stand it, you cut me up so the night before last, do forgive me, and I’ll burn the letters.”
    â€˜â€œYou would, would you, sir; how often James have I caught you reading them, after the same broken promises. Do you still correspond with that designing girl? You know she only wants your money. I’ll birch you out of that fancy, my boy, till you again love poor Maria, you shall never marry whilst I can hold a rod, sir. I only wish I had the girl here, her bum should smart, I’ll warrant!”
    â€˜She now pulled his breeches down, and tucked up his shirt so as to expose a fairly plump rump, which she patted admiringly, then her face seemed to get stern, and reaching the rod off the dressing table she again began to lecture him as she applied the twigs vigorously, so much so that he fairly screamed for mercy, “I’ll never think of her again, Maria, indeed I won’t, you know I love you so! You have such a sweet grey-haired cunt.”
    â€˜â€œWhat insult! How dare you say that to your sister. You shall get me at once Mrs. Allen’s Hair Restore, Rowland’s Kalydor, Breidenbach’s Macassarine, and Ross’s Extract of Cantharides. Ha,ha you