Finally her body grew inert and her snores louder. Wishing devoutly that he had thought to use this device before, Horace left the marital bed and went to the far more exciting one in the attic where Pamela lay. Herself a little drowsy, she received first his kisses hazily.

“Oh, sir, Mrs. Rumple may venture in!” she protested when her nightgown was raised.

“Nothing to fear, my love, all is well. Now I shall teach you to raise your bottom and to waggle it prettily. Come-no nonsense, or I shall bring the birch to it first. You would not like that?”

“No, Mr. Rumple-Oh! but what are you doing!”

“Presenting my cock to your bottom, Pamela. The first salute may prove a trifle harder than in your cunny, but we shall manage it. Lift well up, now-let me part the cheeks. Ah, what a rosy treasure!”

Fearful lest her shrieks might bring forth Mrs. Rumple, Pamela acquiesced to the lewd act, though it was necessary for her to muffle her mouth in her pillow while the sturdy rod urged its path slowly between her bottom cheeks. Being gripped tightly by Horace, she could move but little.

“No, I hate it! Please don't! Must I have an injection there?”

“In all your orifices, my sweet. Have patience. In no time at all you will begin to enjoy it. You will feel the rush of my sperm more sensitively within your bottom, I vow. It is a favourite sport among the gentry, I am told. I am breaking you in.”

“Oh! but do not break it completely! I swear you are splitting me! Go more slowly, I beg! I cannot take it all!”

Long was the time that Horace laboured, for he was an understanding soul and was by now well aware that Pamela could become a pleasure-maiden beyond compare. Holding his well-gripped prick but four inches within her rosette, he allowed it to throb mightily, the more to lure her into taking it.