Hindley, Heathcliff and Me

PART ONE
In Which I Meet A New Friend

         The storms of night had passed. The mix of October sunshine and clouds dappled the moors and the uplands in alternating patterns of green and gold. Lysander's powerful strides were carrying me home from Peniston Crag, my secret hiding place where I could get away from my brother Hindley. I rode not like a young girl, but rather like a man, splayed over the saddle.

         I would be fourteen at the end of the next month. Already my body was budding; the rocking motion of Lysander stimulated me and put thoughts in my mind I did not understand. I knew I would have to change my undergarments when I reached home. I would do so in the privacy of my room. Kind Ellen, my mistress and servant, must not know. She'd raised me, along with my father, after my mother died. At the same time, she and dear old Joseph were the only servants at Wuthering Heights, our aerie in the Yorkshire wilds.

         Only Dr. Kenneth was aware of the changes coming over me. He'd been there that day "my friend" paid its first call. I asked him not to tell Father or either of the servants, and most especially, not to mention a word to Hindley. From my earliest remembrance of my brother, two years older than I, he was a blackguard and a blackguard he is still. I think he hates me. Someday he will inherit Wuthering Heights. This TERRIFIES me. What will happen to me then?

         I put aside these thoughts as I neared home. My eye caught side of an open carriage, the one horse trap of the good Doctor Kenneth. He and Father were the best of friends. What a kind man he was. Father and he were standing in front of our door. Hindley was behind Father, but now I could see another figure alighting from the carriage seat. He was smaller than either of them. I quickened my pace with excitement. Visitors to our upland abode were rare. Even our nearest neighbors, the Lintons, a family whose manor was situated on better land that was not as exposed to the winds and storms as ours, rarely visited, even though their children were about our age.

         I pulled Lysander to a halt and dismounted. Joseph took her reins and led her back to the barn. Dr. Kenneth was looking straight at me, and in the voice of a man whose bark was worse than his bite, asked, "Cathy, aren't you a bit young and too much of a lady to ride Lysander like that?"

         "Like what, Dr. Kenneth?" I replied in a teasing voice. I liked flirting with him ever since he had explained that I was now a woman. Why he had not asked Ellen to come into my room and clean me up that day I do not know, but there were nights I wondered if I could find another reason to have him examine me again. He possessed such sensitive hands.

         "You know what I mean, young lady. You will stir up the hot emotions you are not ready for yet."

         "Oh, pooh, Dr. Kenneth. I love to ride; there is nothing more to it than that. I'm preparing for the day I have to manage this estate. Someone will have to do it. By that time, brother Hindley will be in his cups twenty-four hours a day. He drinks too much now at fifteen." I could sense the hatred in my brother's glare. I should have known better than to antagonize him; if I can't find a beau there will be nothing left in life but to be the old maid sister of this evil man, working and slaving to keep his house.

         "Be kind to your brother." Father was putting in his two farthings, but my mind was now aware that someone else had his eye on me. He was on the other side of the carriage; I could only see his upper chest and head, but I could not miss those piercing dark eyes. "Who is our visitor, Dr. Kenneth?" I asked.

         "I was about to introduce this young ruffian I found on the streets of Liverpool. He hadn't had a proper meal in days, and if you think he looks dirty now, imagine his looks before I cleaned him up as best I could."

         The boy's eyes were still on me. I did not avert my glance. He was shorter than Hindley, but I felt he was nearly the same age. I could not help but notice his dark complexion and his face that needed a scrubbing. His countenance was topped by a mane of curly dark hair that grew every which way. His clothes were little better than rags. He would not release his gaze from its grip on me. He stared at me like a wild animal, trapped in a cage, just hoping he could partake of my flesh for his next meal. I felt a strange excitement, that same feeling that came over me as Lysander jostled me over the moors. I told myself to calm down, but a dampness was spreading between my legs; I hoped no one would notice. Dr. Kenneth diverted everyone's eyes by turning to my Father.

         "Earnshaw, this young man needs a home. I thought of you, my lifelong friend, and of your kind heart. I am aware that you have wanted your children to have companions at this most forlorn place on our beautiful moors. Thus I bring you this young man, to serve you and your household and bring lightness to your hearts."

         My father spoke, "He shall not be a servant, good Doctor, but a son of our household equal to Cathy or Hindley. My dear wife, who passed giving birth to a stillborn child almost eleven years ago, would have wanted it so.” My heart leapt; I felt the fluids coursing in my loins again. With a little cleaning and polishing, this dream of a young man might save me from a life of Hell. Then the serpent spoke.

         "Father, he's nothing more than a dirty Gypsy. He'll never be my brother. He's not good enough to groom Lysander and Hero, and mark my words, some day that is what he will be doing, eating and sleeping in our stable while I mercilessly apply the whip to his back." The young man's gaze rested on my brother. I could see the steel-eyed contempt in his eyes. Not only would I have a companion, but an ally in my struggle against Hindley. Father tried to soothe the vile one with reminders of Mother's kindness, but I knew my brother would never accept, never accept....I did not know what to call him, so I asked Dr. Kenneth, "Does he have a name?"

         "Why yes, Cathy. His name is Heathcliff."

PART TWO
My Finger Makes A Discovery

         Later that day, after Dr. Kenneth had left, I retreated to my room and closed the door. I stripped out of my riding outfit and my undergarments. I knew I should get dressed, but the feel of air on my skin was cooling. The weather was not warm, but the ride, and the sight of my potential companion, had made my body flush.

         Naked, I retreated to the bed and pulled a light cover over me. I lifted it and let my eye rove over the body spread below. My breasts were growing; I had expected that. Between my legs the light down that had preceded the first visit of "my friend", as the Doctor told me to call the monthly flow of blood, had turned dark brown, the color of my hair, and was thick. I put my hand there, searching for a small protuberance I’d found when examining myself one day. I gently began to rub my skin to see if I might arouse that same feeling that had brightened that day. In my mind, I pictured Heathcliff, and thought of him peeking in the window, watching me. I don’t know if I had fallen asleep, or had put myself into a trance, but I was soon heard someone knocking on my door, calling out, “Miss Cathy, Miss Cathy. Are you all right?”

         I was aware now that I was moaning; murmuring nonsense as my hand continued its exploration. Embarrassed, I stopped my play as the door opened and Ellen entered. I am sure a blush spread over my face as I explained that I was taking a short nap and must have been dreaming. She closed the door and picked up my riding outfit and underwear. I pulled the cover up to just below my jaw. She smiled at me, held up the clothing and spoke gently, “Oh, Miss Cathy, you’re growing up. You have so much in front of you, but I worry about you here in this forsaken country, and with only your brother to fall back upon. Do what feels good to you now and don’t be ashamed. Your future may be difficult enough. Your Mistress Ellen knows what is happening to you; she’s been through it.”

         I returned her smile; she continued to talk to me, asking that if ever I married and left this house, would I take her with me? “I love your father; he has been so kind to me but I fear Hindley. I’m afraid that he'll assert his droit de seigneur when your father passes on, if he can even wait that long."

         I did not know what she was talking about, but I was thankful I had another friend in my battle against Hindley. I asked her to hand me a clean dress and undergarments. She turned her back and chose my needs. I felt a tear form in my eye; Ellen was always so kind to me. I pulled back the cover and stepped out of bed, naked as when born, to take the raiment from my servant and friend. I could see her eyes wander over my white flesh. She sighed and spoke gently, “Oh Miss Cathy, you already are beautiful, like the blooming rose.” I stood there, my hands at my side, not ashamed to show her how the little girl she'd once bathed had developed. I turned about and bent over to pick up my shoes. This brought further praise, “Miss Cathy, I think your hind end is coming along nicely too.” I felt flattered; there was no mirror in my room and I had never caught a glimpse of my backside. I turned my head and smiled at her. Taking my dirty clothes, she walked to the door, noting that she had much to do in order to prepare Mister Heathcliff’s room.

         With the mention of his name, my heart went a-flutter. Hearing the door close, I stood there a moment. I caught my hand being pulled involuntarily to that place again and admonished myself. I would have to be more careful in future days.

PART THREE
I catch my prize

         Father was as good as his word; Heathcliff was accepted by all but Hindley as a son and brother. He became my playmate and constant companion. I showed him the secret of secrets, Peniston Crag. There I named him "King of the Moors," while he witnessed my coronation as the "Princess of Peniston." We would spend afternoons watching the clouds form, and dash home on our horses before the gathering storm. Good Dr. Kenneth found a horse for him, and while Midden Castle was not as fast as Lysander, at least Heathcliff did not have to attempt to borrow Hero from Hindley.

         From our perch, several times we watched as Hindley rode about trying to find us. He took his anger out on his poor dumb animal, abusing Hero savagely. In his first days with us, Heathcliff did not talk much, but as our friendship deepened, he would confide in me. “I’ve a good mind to use that crop on him,” he said as we witnessed Hindley’s cruelty, but by the time we would return to Wuthering Heights, drink had made Hindley even meaner than out on the moors. He was spoiling for a fight. I made Heathcliff promise not to provoke my brother. I knew Hindley possessed a pistol and would be perfectly happy to use it on Heathcliff.

         I am afraid I was to blame for what did happen. Winter passed; I was now fourteen. The cold weather must have suppressed the stirrings that visited me that autumn day Heathcliff came to us. Our meetings and play remained pure, but now as the days lengthened, and the early flowers of spring gave way to budding plants, my thoughts, as I lay in bed, turned inward. Before sleep I would pull up my nightgown and my hand would wander to that place of pleasure. I knew now that I made noise, so I pulled blankets over my head so not to be heard.

         As I would lightly stroke myself, my thoughts would turn to Heathcliff. I wondered if his body betrayed him, and what he did to lessen the feeling. I’d last seen my brother naked when I was very little, and he about six or seven. I remembered he had a tiny dangling appendage between his legs, and what looked like two small radishes behind it, but that had been long ago. Without a mother to question, I was in the dark. I could ask Miss Ellen, but it was one thing for her to witness my naked body; it would be another to inquire about men.

         The night before that fatal day I did not sleep well. I kept waking up and treating myself with my soft fingers, envisioning myself doing it in front of Heathcliff and asking him if he ever did the same thing. I presumed he had an appendage like my brother and imagined him dropping his trousers to show me. I wondered if he had the same growth of bushy hair that I had between my legs and decided that he did. My imagination had me take his hand and drop it on that part of my body my hand kept stroking as I lay there under my covers. Then in my mind, I placed my hand in that hairy area above his little object that I decided to call Peniston. I began to rub and stroke his skin.

         Suddenly I realized I was almost shouting, and pushed my pillow into my mouth. The bed under my spread legs was very wet. I would make it myself that morning so that Ellen did not notice. My mind relaxed and I must have fallen asleep. I was awakened by the light knocking of my mistress, telling me that breakfast was on the table.

         At our morning meal, Father informed us that he would have to ride to Duncanston to settle some matter that day and would not be back until near sunset. He got up and left the table, telling Joseph to saddle his horse. I did not like being in the company of Hindley without Father there, even with Heathcliff present, so the rest of the meal passed in silence. To my surprise, Hindley asked Joseph to saddle his horse. He was going to ride to the Linton’s to set them straight about sheep he saw grazing on our land. I could not believe my good luck.

         I saw my brother ride off. I suggested to Heathcliff that we ride the moors. He nodded in agreement, but when we reached the barn my thoughts from the night before came back to haunt me. I walked to my horse and patted her flank. "Lysander is in need of a brushing; I will only be a few minutes." I grabbed a brush and motioned Heathcliff to sit on a nearby bench and watch me. I had no idea how to raise the subject on my mind, but the thought of a new game came to me.

         “What do you want to be when you grow up, Heathcliff?”

         “I don’t know; I’d like to travel. I can’t stay here; your brother will never have me.”

         “No he won’t.” I paused a couple of seconds and then asked, “Did you ever consider being a doctor? You can make people happy like Dr. Kenneth. He’s a wonderful man.”

         “I don’t think I will be a doctor, Cathy.”

         “You never know, dear Heathcliff. I’ll bet you have the hands of a healer, hands that make people feel better. Dr. Kenneth cured me with his hand one day, even if he didn’t know it. He touched a certain place and it felt so good. Now when I want to forget the cares of the world, I touch myself too. I wonder if you touched me there if it would feel the same way. Maybe you and I could pretend you are the doctor?”

         He looked a little puzzled, but willing. “How do I pretend, Cathy? What do I do? Where do I touch you?”

         I walked over to him and took his hand and placed it in that triangle between my legs. I had a dress on, but the second contact was made, my legs trembled and I had to steady myself. I acted nonchalant, “Like that, Heathcliff, but I must tell you it doesn’t feel quite the same because I have my clothes on. When Dr. Kenneth did it, and when I do it in my room, I take them off.”

         “Dr. Kenneth saw you naked?”

         “Why of course, silly boy. How do you think he examined me? That was just once, but you could examine me now, with my clothes off. I would like you to do that.”

         He scratched his head a second, started to stammer. I interrupted. “Heathcliff, every night I have dreamed of you doing this. I stroke my body and see you in my mind brushing me with your hand and tender fingers. I almost explode thinking of it. I lose all control of my body.”

         His breathing was heavier, but he mentioned his worry of Miss Ellen or Joseph finding us.

         “They are cleaning the house; didn’t you hear Father instruct them to do so? Please, Heathcliff, I want you to take me in your gentle hands and make my legs and body tremble, and maybe I can do the same for you. I don’t know how it works with boys. Do you have such a spot on your body?”

         He blushed, but his breathing was very hard. He reached for the buttons on my dress. I shooed his hand away and began to unbutton them myself, slipping out of my shoes at the same time. I turned my back to him and finished unfastening the wooden disks that held the dress closed and pulled it off over my arms. I’d worn nothing underneath that morning.

         I bent down to place the dress on a clean spot on the ground. I felt his hands on my hind end and heard him say, “What a beautiful arse.” He drew a finger down the crevice in the middle of it and I knew his digits had the magic. I slowly turned around and moved his hand into the patch of thick hair between my legs. His fingers explored me, touching places I did not usually touch. They set off fires inside me, fires the moisture flowing between my legs could not put out.

         “Cathy, you’re so wet. Am I stroking you in the right place?” He was unsure. I maneuvered his hand about, trying to find just the right spot, but wherever it landed, my body tingled. My eyes glanced downward. He was wearing pants like my brother, with two or three buttons down the front between the legs. I could see a bulge there. I took my hand from his and was seeking his appendage, when I heard a plink on the floor and noticed that a button was gone. Emerging from the gap in his pants was something far larger and thicker than I had seen on my little brother that day. It looked like a straight spear, a medieval battering ram that I had seen in books in Father’s library. I reached and unfastened the top button and the next and pulled his pants down until they fell to his ankles. I saw again the two hanging radishes at the base of the spear. I fondled them and heard him moan, and then my hand went to the thick patch of hair above the spear and I began to stroke.

         He was rubbing and stroking me at the same time. My legs were weak; I pulled him to the straw-covered floor with me, he on his side next to me, me on my back, both our hands manipulating the other. With his other hand he took hold of my working fingers and put them on the spear. I chuckled to him and whispered, “Dear King of the Moor, this thing in my hand I’ve dubbed your Peniston, after that place most sacred to us.” He kissed me and with the hand holding mine, began to show me how to manipulate Peniston. He left go of my hand, and with his other hand continued to rub its palm and fingers over that magic spot and into the two lips that I hid below. I felt his free arm against my thigh, urging me to lift it. “Let me put my hand under that lovely arse of yours.” I complied and now I could feel his fingers, searching hidden places, and stimulating my body from this new angle.

         I could feel Peniston getting thicker and harder, and beginning to throb. As for me, I could hear myself moaning and crying. I wondered if a human being could possibly incinerate herself. My legs were twitching and I am sure that if someone had seen me, they would have assumed I had the St. Vitus Dance. I began to lose control. My hand on his appendage clenched it harder. I felt I must be wetting myself. I heard myself break wind; I should have been embarrassed but I barely noticed it over my shouts. Heathcliff’s breathing was becoming very short. Peniston took on a life of its own. My hand could feel a surge in it. Out of a corner of an eye, I saw a white stream shoot from it, landing in the hair between my legs and on his other hand. An explosion racked my body. I grabbed Heathcliff and held on for dear life.

PART FOUR
I Am Caught Unawares

         How many minutes had passed before I became aware that someone was watching? I doubt it was more than one. Striding out from behind a stall came Hindley, riding crop in hand. His face was on fire; his arm was raised. His words were almost spit out of his mouth.

         “You little whore; you and this Gypsy stable hand. He’s going to get the thrashing he deserves,” and with that he brought the crop down, striking the rapidly shrinking Peniston. I did not understand why it was getting smaller and not standing up, but I had little time for thought. My brother put a boot on Heathcliff, grabbed a leg and landed two more on the appendage and the radishes. He then commenced to apply the whip all over his body. Heathcliff would not fight back, but I could see the anger in his eyes.

         I screamed and threw myself on Hindley, who threw me backward into the straw. He bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Look at you, you naked little whore. Father will know of this and take the birch to your arse. You’ll stand up to eat for long time, my dear sister!”

         He spun and began to beat Heathcliff again. This time I jumped on Hindley’s back, screaming at him to stop. We were both brought up short by the sound of hoof beats outside the barn. I released my hold on my brother and took up my dress, covering myself as best I could. Father entered the barn and quietly said, “What is going on here?” For some reason he had returned early.

         “Father, I found these two fornicating here. I want this Gypsy thrown off this place, and this whore punished severely.”

         Father looked at me. Nervously, I responded that we were not fornicating; that we had no idea how to fornicate, but that we were giving each other pleasure. I told him not to blame Heathcliff for it had been my idea. Hindley interrupted, “And I want to see her soundly birched. No sister of mine should have taken her clothes off in front of such trash.”

         “I’m the one who will decide if she shall be birched, Hindley, and you certainly may not watch it.” Father said this very calmly. I’d been spanked over his knee when I was much younger, but never felt the wrath of the birch rod. Hindley was certainly familiar with it. The command, “Bring the birch, Joseph! To the library, Hindley, over the desk and drop your trousers” had rung out many times in our house. I had never witnessed the thrashings, nor seen the after effects, but I remember Hindley could not ride his horse for several days afterward.

         This time, Hindley was not about to rest his case. “Father, some day Wuthering Heights will be mine. If these two rutting rabbits are here then, I shall have them tossed onto the road should you not take the rod to my sister. As for this man, this piece of offal on the floor, I want him out of Wuthering Heights. However, if you take my sister to my honored spot in the library, I shall put in writing the promise that both may stay on past your death, Cathy as mistress of the house and young Heathcliff here as stable hand, starting now.”

         As soon as I looked at Father’s face, I knew he was beaten, and I would be too literally. Father nodded his assent at Hindley, who added a final condition. “And I, Father, shall witness Cathy’s humiliation. I think after dinner would be the proper time for you to call Joseph to fetch the birch and her to place herself over the desk and lift her dress, though she might as well appear naked, which is how I found her.”

         With the triumphant Hindley leading the way, Father and I walked to the house. Father took my hand and said he understood fully what had happened and that this would be the hardest thing he had ever done.

PART FIVE
I Receive My Comeuppance And A Dose Of Humiliation

         I could not eat Ellen’s dinner, despite the entreaties of Father and Ellen and the hectoring of Hindley. “What is the matter, Cathy? Cat got your tongue? Well, in a little while the Cat O’ Nine Tails will sting your arse!” Father told Hindley to be quiet or he might find Father would change his will. This shut Hindley up but made me feel no better.

         At last the last dregs of coffee had been drunk and Ellen began to clean the plates away. Hindley was beaming, throwing his ugly face in front of me. When Father turned his head, my brother rubbed his hands with glee and stopped Father before he could summon Joseph to get the hated switch. “I think it would be more appropriate to send our stable hand for the birch. Joseph, Joseph, summon Heathcliff to bring the birch.”

         To my surprise and horror, Joseph answered, “Master Heathcliff has apparently run away. He is nowhere to be found.” What other tragedy could happen? In addition to having my arse striped by the switch, my dear friend had left. Could it be he blamed me? I looked at Joseph imploringly. He then added for Father’s edification that he had seen the young man walking over the moors in the opposite direction from the Linton’s property. A ray of hope shone; I think I knew where he was going. Then I heard my father, “Joseph, would you bring me the birch? Miss Cathy, take yourself to the library and place yourself over my desk and pull your dress above your waist.”

         The gloating Hindley couldn't help but add, “Get over that desk, Cathy, and stick that big bottom I saw today in the air. Afterwards I will count the welts.” As long as I was to reside in that house, I would never be able to live down this coming humiliation in my mind. It was bad enough to be caught stark naked by my brother that afternoon, but to have him hear the sound of the switch hitting my flesh, and witness me crying would be the final straw. Knowing my cruel brother, he would constantly remind me of it, and after Father was dead, would try to find other excuses to use the birch on me. I became determined not to cry out, no matter how much it hurt.

         From the corner of my eye, I could see Ellen crying. As I walked to my doom, she came to me, grabbed my hand and gripped it tightly. She whispered, “I will wash your weals and apply balm afterward.” I entered the library and pulled myself over the top of the desk. Father was waiting with the birch. Hindley closed the door, keeping the servants outside. I did not pull up my dress before mounting and found now doing so difficult. Hindley walked to my head, reached over me and yanked it up violently. I could feel the air on my bared bottom.

         Father was taking his position to my side, the switch in hand. I waited, but nothing happened. At last I heard him, “I can’t do this. My daughter is guilty of nothing but curiosity for what I can’t teach her. I will not take this birch to her flesh.”

         “Well I will Father, hand me that rod.” It was my evil brother speaking again.

         From my awkward position, I responded. “Father, Hindley may be correct that I deserve a whipping, not because of what I did, but because I seduced Heathcliff, and caused him to run away, but Father, if you allow my brother to take that birch to me, I promise you I will never speak to you again. Call Ellen, let her apply the rod to my arse.”

         My father walked to the door, put his head out and summoned Ellen. She entered and the door closed again. Father spoke, “Ellen, I cannot punish my daughter for what she did and I will not allow this beast to use the rod on her. You will have to do it. Cathy has asked you to do so.”

         Ellen was flustered. “Oh, Miss Cathy, you don’t deserve this punishment.”

         “Yes, I do, Ellen. Take the birch to me and then heal my wounds. Get it over with, so I don’t have to see the face of that grinning jackal standing over there.” While Father had been to the door, Hindley had approached and given a sharp slap to my exposed flesh. The sooner I was in my room and away from him, the better.

         “How many am I supposed to give the young lady, Mr. Earnshaw?”

         “Fifty!” shouted Hindley.

         “Be quiet, Hindley. She will receive her age, fourteen. As much as I would like to tell you to go easy on her, because she is my beautiful daughter, any Earnshaw child in the position on the desktop must receive a thorough hiding. Now get this finished. My heart is broken, not because of the acts of my daughter, but on account of the vindictiveness of my son. May someone else have him in Cathy’s current position someday. I have grown too old to wield the rod hard enough to give him his full measure.”

         Ellen asked, “Are you ready, Miss Cathy?”

         “Yes, Ellen”

         I gritted my teeth, clenched the muscles of my behind and heard the whistle of the birch in the air. It landed right on the mark. A sharp stinging pain went through my body. I grunted with my mouth closed and awaited the next. I followed the same regimen for the next one, clenching both teeth and bottom muscles. The switch did not hit the same spot, but broke new ground. Once again I did not cry out. Hindley shouted, “She’s clenching her muscles. I’m not allowed to do that. Spread her legs.”

         Ellen gently moved my legs apart, but I found on the third and fourth that I could still ward off some of the pain by contracting myself. I had not cried out yet, though tears were in my eyes. Hindley was beside himself; he tried to grab the birch from Ellen but Father, who I noticed was very weak, told him to cease. Hindley suggested I be put on the floor, on my knees, legs spread, with my head down and bottom in the air in order that I might feel it more. This was done. I found that contraction did not work as well to ward off the pain, and I felt further humiliated in this position when I realized why Hindley was standing behind me. He could now see those parts of me that were heretofore kept private.

         Yet it was on the fifth or sixth stroke that I became aware that in addition to pain, sensations were creeping into other parts of me. I had some idea this was happening when I was over the desk, and noticed a wet spot on the glass top when I got off, but now I knew that while each stroke was making me sore, a sensation akin to Heathcliff’s fingers stroking me was going through my body. My arms were extended under me. As I knelt there, waiting the next blow, which I counted to be number ten, I placed a finger into the thick hair that I did not think Hindley could see and gently stroked. I listened excitedly for the next fall of the switch, rubbing myself, and when it hit the pain was more extreme than before, but so were the sensations like those experienced that afternoon. Once again, I thought I might explode inside.
For the first time I let out a moan. Hindley was gratified. He did not know it was a moan of pleasure. I think Ellen did; she asked me how I was and winked her eye. Ellen was younger than father and very homely, but as I knelt there, exposed to brother, father and servant, what she said came back to me that day in my room. “Do what feels good and don’t be ashamed.” As the last strokes came, the triumph in my mind was complete. My brother had hoped to humiliate me. He might have seen my private parts, and my naked bottom whipped, but he could never know how pain could be pleasure.

PART SIX
I Am Given Succor And Learning

         In my roon, Ellen gently applied a healing balm to the sores she had opened. She commented that it seemed I had almost enjoyed the lashing. I told her about the mysteries that I had learned to enjoy, and of Heathcliff and I at play. “It was so much bigger than the one I remember on Hindley when he was small. She laughed and began to explain. “Now mind you, I have not had a lot of experience. With a face like mine that will stop a clock, you should understand that, but servants live in close quarters in big houses and I have seen things and heard talk.” I was all questions and my dear mistress had answers. She remarked that it sounded as if Heathcliff knew even less than I did, but from some of what I told her, she concluded “he surely knows how to pleasure himself, as you do. I’ll tell you a secret; I do it too. I knew what you were doing that day I found you in here. I wanted to smile and kiss you.”

         She instructed me to roll over on my back. My bottom stung where it touched the bed, but she lifted my legs like a baby and began to wash the patch of hair that stayed hidden behind skirts. “From what you tell me, our departed Heathcliff shot his load of jizzim. I'll wash it out.” She held my legs up and scrubbed me like a baby and patted me dry. Even this excited me, though I dared not tell her. With a towel she dried my pubics as she called the area. ‘Jizzim,’ ‘pubics,’ I was learning a lot of new words. I grinned and said the words. She said that in some places, jizzim was called ‘cum’ but she knew it as ‘jizzim.’

         I could have hugged and kissed her. Not only did I learn the words, but she had also explained how the ‘penis,’ as she called it, or ‘cock’ to some, was used. I asked if it would hurt, and she explained that she did not know. “I have never done it with a man. Who would have me?”

         As Ellen dried my private areas, I could feel her fingers getting into the little nooks and crannies in that part of my body. I began to feel excited again and asked her to continue. That was a mistake. She pulled my legs toward my head and gave my whipped bottom a few reminders with her hand. She smiled as she slapped, telling me I’d have to use my own hand, or Mr. Heathcliff’s.

         “Now get some rest before supper. I know it will be hard to face Mr. Hindley again, but you must eat.” I informed Ellen that I was going to find Heathcliff. She tried to talk me out of it, but when she was I was determined, she advised me to take a pillow for the saddle. I was glad she did.

PART SEVEN
I Employ My Acquired Knowledge

         Lysander and I found Heathcliff at Peniston Crag, sitting and staring at the sky. “Are you angry with me?” I asked. He shook his head negatively. “Why didn’t you fight back, Heathcliff?”

         “Your brother is not worth the fight. I might have killed him, and to be hung for killing such a man would simply be a waste of my life. Someday I will return to Wuthering Heights and destroy him and throw him out on the road to fend for himself. Before I heave his miserable bones out, I shall hold him and permit you to take a birch to him to pay him back, or perhaps you shall brand him with a hot poker.”

         I told Heathcliff of the birch and asked him not to talk anymore of my punishment. I spoke of the pleasures he'd given me both in my heart and body. I told him I hoped I had done the same for him. He put his arm around me and drew me near, kissing me hotly. His other hand began to explore me. The fire returned. I felt for his appendage. It was stiff. I smiled at him and softly told him, “I was pretty close when I called it your Peniston; it is your penis.”

         “My cock, or my dick, that is what I call it. I didn’t mind the name you gave it; it was so fitting.” He had freed himself and was slipping off his pants. Seeing him do this, I pulled my dress off and, for the third time that day, was naked in front of another person. He lay on his back, his head off the ground, supported by his elbow. In his free hand was his penis. “Here, Cathy, touch it, take it, feel it." I reached for it, taking it in my hand and then, on hands and knees, placed my head near it. I saw a little slit near its head where the jizzim erupted earlier. I lowered my head and nuzzled the hair about it and drew my tongue up the shaft to the head. I felt it harden even more. I licked his thighs, and the two radishes he called his ‘balls.’ I found I could fit them in my mouth.

         He was not idle while I did this. I felt my legs being pulled apart and found that part of myself straddling his head. He whistled as he gently touched the welts on my freshly lashed backside. “Your poor hiney,” he whimpered, and then kissed it and pulled my pelvis down toward his head. Besides his hand stroking my pubic hair, I felt his tongue delving into areas that Ellen had dried.

         While his tongue licked what he called my ‘pussy’ and his finger stroked my ‘little cock’ as he called it, his other hand stroked the crack of my bottom and finding that other hole I have there, began to rub it. I could feel it moistening. The touch of his finger there led me to an even higher state of excitement. I prayed I did not lose complete control of myself. Could it be his tongue was inside me? It felt that way, and now I realized he was inserting his finger in my arse hole. He did it slowly, letting me feel every little bit of it. It felt like heaven.

         My head went forward and took his penis in my mouth. I licked it, sucked its tip and felt him push it deeper into my mouth. In defense I sucked even harder on it; it was getting more rigid and thicker, if that were possible. I could feel him pushing his finger in and out of my arse hole. I was sure his face was drowned with the liquid flowing from my body. I knew I was reaching my peak; I began to lose control of my arms. My mouth kissed and sucked on his penis more furiously and my legs gripped his head. His arse lifted off the ground and his penis began to throb. I could taste salt in my mouth. I released my grip and pulled my face off his penis and starting licking it again while I took it in hand and gave it a vigorous stroke. The jizzim shot into the air, coming down on my face, hands and his body. His pubic hair was matted with it. As he erupted, he pushed his finger even deeper into my arse hole, and inserted a finger into my pussy. I could not stop shaking. I pushed my body down onto the finger and then lifted it up to get a better feel of the other in my arse. Up and down I went. My arms wrapped about his legs and I pulled them up. I kissed his softening penis and licked the last of the jizzim.

         Finally spent, we disengaged and rolled off. I asked where he learned everything and he could not answer except to say, “I saw your body there and ideas came into my head. You taught me today how sensual we both are, and I decided to try to see if anything goes. And where did you learn what you did to me?”

         I had to respond in the same way. I asked if he knew what else he could do with his cock and when he did not reply, I explained what Ellen had told me, but with her warning that if we were not careful, we could produce babies. I told him I loved the words he used like pussy and cock. He said he had heard them in Liverpool.

         “So babies come from me putting my cock in your pussy and leaving you a load of cum? What would happen if I put it in your arsehole. I liked putting my finger there.”

         Ellen had not mentioned that, but I could not envision a baby coming from my arse and it had felt really good. I told him we would have to find out. He began to talk some more, but I was tired and fell asleep. When I woke it was still dark. Heathcliff was sitting up. “Hindley, Joseph and a voice that sounded like Dr. Kenneth were out calling for you.”

         “It’s too dark to find my way back now, and besides, Heathcliff, I want you to come with me. I want you, even if you have to sleep in the stable. I want you to be my friend all my life, and I promise, we will leave there when Father dies. He did not look in good health tonight.”

         “Cathy, I don’t want to live in the stable, but I don’t want to be without you either. You are a true friend. I will come with you.”

         He lay down beside me; we wrapped our arms about each other. I could feel the excitement coming on me the instant we pressed together. I hadn’t put my dress on, but draped it over me for warmth. I threw it off and wrapped an arm around him. With a free hand I felt for his cock. It was hard again.

         “Heathcliff , let’s try what Ellen told me?”

         I rolled onto my back and spread my legs. He ran his hands through my pubic hair. He called it ‘sighting the target,’ but when his weight started to press on me, the welts on my bottom screamed out. “Get off, my arse is too sore to put your weight on it.” I wondered if I could mount on top of him, but he simply said, “Let’s do it like the dogs do.”

         Once again I found myself on my hands and knees, head down, legs spread, but this time awaiting a whip of a different shape and in a different place. His hand explored again; one finger was pressed against the lips of my pussy and gently pushed inside. I could feel what must have been his thumb circling my arsehole, rubbing it gently and then pushing inside. As I did while Ellen applied the birch, I let my fingers walk to the little spot that means so much to me and I began to rub it. It would not take much to set me off again, but then I felt the digits withdraw. His arm around my waist drew me to him. I could feel his penis sliding and pushing against me. Slowly I felt it penetrate my arse.

         “Heathcliff, you’re in my arse. Do you mind? You feel so good. I wish you had two cocks.”

         “It’s dark, and I can’t see well. I could see your white arse, and I pushed forward and took the first hole I found. I hope you don’t mind. It feels so good, so tight on my cock. And I wish I had two cocks too!”

         I giggled. His hands around my waist extended downward into my triangle formed by my body and legs. He was trying to get a finger into my pussy, but now his excitement was mounting. He thrust in and out slowly at first but was speeding up. His hand was working faster too. My senses were leaving me. His weight prevented me from thrashing about, but I knew I could hear myself shouting. Like a piston he went in and out. He did not have to pull me. My body was in rhythm with his. I could hear his breathing stagger and then, as I felt his penis discharge, my mind went blank, my breathing became short and heavy and we both collapsed, Heathcliff atop me.

         We rolled off and rested in each other’s arms. Soon we must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew, I woke and I could see light. I was cold and snuggled against Heathcliff. I felt a little sore, and wondered if I would be able to use my arsehole, but I knew I could. I hoped he would do it again, and that he would penetrate my pussy. I thought to myself, ‘What a lovely name for that little minx that lives between my legs. It is a shame I cannot come up with a better word than arsehole.”

         Heathcliff opened an eye, smiled and nuzzled in my small breasts. His finger drew a circle on the tip of the right one. I felt a slight spasm inside me. I also knew I was hungry. I had not eaten since breakfast yesterday, and neither had Heathcliff. I gently shook him.

         “Come, Heathcliff, let’s go back to Wuthering Heights.”

         “Not yet, Cathy, let me put it in your pussy.”

PART EIGHT
I Am Turned Out On The Road

         The sun was coming up when both of us mounted Lysander for the ride to Wuthering Heights. I won’t go into details about what happened when he put his penis in my pussy for the first time. There is much that is too embarrassing to tell. I was so glad Ellen had warned me. I was able to assure Heathcliff that he had done me no harm.

         As we approached the house, I saw no smoke coming from the chimney. Joseph was waiting near the barn. From the look on his face, I thought the old man had been crying. He spoke with emotion, “Miss Cathy, Miss Cathy, your father is dead. He had a seizure after you left. Mr. Hindley rode to find Dr. Kenneth, but by the time he arrived, your father was dead. We tried to find you.”

         A terrible grief settled in my heart. Voices inside me hammered at my brain, reminding me what I was doing while Father breathed his last. Truly I deserved the thrashing meted out yesterday. I thought I would faint, and I might have but from the front door emerged Hindley, arm dangling by his side and holding a pistol in his hand.

         “The Whore of Babylon has returned, and brought her whore master with her.” He raised the gun and pointed it in our direction. Sneering, he uttered, “Let me see if I can shoot brother Heathcliff without hitting you, dear sister of mine.”

         He had been drinking; his steps were unsteady, but he moved closer to us, carrying the pistol unsteadily extended as he did. I wanted to weep on my Father’s deathbed, but I knew further tragedy would ensue. I was about to spur Lysander so that we might get out of range when I saw Miss Ellen rush out the door. She ran to Hindley and grabbed his arm. I screamed. Lysander was startled and broke into a trot. I nudged the horse and we rode behind the barn and dismounted. I whispered to Heathcliff that this was my affair and he should not intercede, and then I stepped out into the open.

         Miss Ellen was sitting on the ground, holding her face and crying. Hindley stood, staring into space, his hands empty. I could see the pistol on the ground near Miss Ellen. My brother did not seem to realize he had no gun in his hand. Seeing me he bellowed more hatred.

         “Get out of here and take your whore master with you. You are not wanted here. Fornicate on the moors.”

         “Hindley, you gave Father your promise in writing that Heathcliff and I could remain at Wuthering Heights.” I did not want to live in the same house as my brother, but I wanted desperately to see my Father and apologize to his soul for deserting him in his time of need.

         “You step in this house and I will take my whip to that lily white arse of yours, you harlot.”

         I sensed Heathcliff behind me and warned him again that this was my affair. I was afraid that Hindley would shoot him. I realized a terrible truth, and spoke of the obvious conclusion. “I’m leaving, Hindley, and never coming back. You have poisoned the well, my brother.” My eyes took in Ellen, starting to stand and my fears became broader. “I would not stay at Wuthering Heights, Ellen.”

         “I have nowhere else to go until you find a new home, Miss Cathy. Send for me when you do.”

         “Hindley, in the meantime you’d best touch not a hair on Miss Ellen’s head.”

         Pure vitriol spewed from his lips, “Or what will you do, sister of mine?”

         I had no response. I would not kill my brother no matter how much I hated him. I wished I could take my kind mistress with us, but we had no idea where we would be going. My silent prayers for her were answered when Joseph appeared, holding Father’s bird gun.

         “Don’t worry, Miss Cathy, I will protect Miss Ellen. Go now, Mr. Hindley will want another drink, and I dare say another after that.”

         Hearing Joseph's prediction put the idea in my brother’s head. He stormed inside where I heard him demanding his proper ration. We mounted and began to ride away. Miss Ellen motioned us to wait, stepped into the house and returned with much needed food for us. We returned to Peniston Crag where I fell into a deep gloom thinking about my father. Heathcliff sat silently looking at the blue sky that was turning gray. The wind had shifted; rain was on the way. I fell asleep. The rain arrived just after dark.

PART NINE
I Set A New Course

         Deep in my subconscious, I could hear the cracks of lightning and clasps of thunder as I slept beneath the overhanging rock that formed our shelter. Morning was upon us when I opened my eyes; there were still dark clouds but the wind was driving them away. I heard the whinny of Lysander; and, turning my head slightly, became aware that Heathcliff was seated closer to the opening, his legs drawn up and his head between them.

         “Are you asleep, Heathcliff?” He answered with a grunt. I suggested we eat from the rations Ellen had given us. He uncovered the basket and brought out bread, two apples and a bottle of wine. We talked little, but the food made me realize that the rain and night of sleep had washed away the feeling of unbearable grief and guilt I had. Father was gone; there would be no succor from Hindley, but my life had to go on. I had to find a place to live, and not just for myself but also for Heathcliff and Ellen.

         Heathcliff was keen for going back to Liverpool; the idea scared me. What would a young girl without family do in a big city? For that matter, I wondered what Heathcliff would do. Dr. Kenneth described him as a ‘ruffian’ when he found him. I wondered if Dr. Kenneth would take us in; he was Father’s oldest friend. I was about to suggest this when from the fields below we heard squeals of laughter. Two people were riding horses. From the tone of their voices, one seemed to be a young man, the other a woman of the same age.

         Looking closely, I could see they were Edgar and Isabella Linton, brother and sister. I recalled that Edgar was two years older than Hindley while Isabella was the same age as my brother. We were not social friends, but did see each other at holidays. My family was invited every year to the grand Christmas Ball at their house, an imposing brick structure that dominated the landscape. Their parents, both alive, always seemed very friendly to Father and I. The last two years Hindley had drank too much at the Ball and been asked to leave, but this wasn’t held against us.

         Young Edgar was chasing his sister. The wind carried her shout about a race home to us on high, but I could not hear the stake agreed upon. I suggested to Heathcliff that we might pay them a visit; in the back of my mind was the thought that Mr. Linton might take us in and possibly intercede for me with my brother. Heathcliff must have seen that traveling to Liverpool was impossible, for he readily agreed. We decided to set off later in the day. At the moment, I felt the need for comfort and warm arms. I snuggled up next to my companion, kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then our heads moved slightly and our lips locked. I could feel his hands roving about my body; my fingers played with the buttons on his pants, marched inside and searched out his magic rod. Within minutes, I was on my back and my body was visited by another friend. Miss Ellen was right; I was getting very used to it and it felt wonderful.

         We were both hungry afterward. We ate the reaminder of the food. By now the sun was sinking. We should not have stayed on Peniston Crag that long. It would be dark when we arrived at the Linton estate. We approached from the rear. Candles were burning in one room, but the rest of the house was in darkness except for what we assumed were servant quarters. We decided to try our luck at the French doors we noticed in the lighted room.

         Nearing the building, I could hear more laughter. A young woman, Isabella most likely, was giggling, but it was not the laugh of one playing cards or hearing a funny story. There was a coquettish sound to it. I motioned to Heathcliff that we should slip near a window and see what was happening inside. Perhaps, I thought, they did not want to be interrupted. At that moment I couldn’t miss hearing a sharp intake of breath from that same woman, and then a distinct cry rent the early evening air.

         “OOOOOOOOOhhhhh.”

         I looked at Heathcliff. He shook his head, whispered that he had heard me make such sounds, and then nodded his head toward the window. Stealthily we advanced toward the outer sill, but stopped part way when we heard that same voice exclaim.

         “Oooooh, again Edgar, do it slow.”

         “You really like this little plaything, don’t you Sis?”

         Two days ago I would have had no idea what was happening, but after our time in the barn and at the Crag, I had a very good idea. I remembered the little religious training Father gave me and realized that the two people in that room might be practicing a taboo.

         I was horrified, but fascinated. I hadn’t been able to see myself receiving the largesse of Heathcliff and now I would have that chance to witness the act. We crept the final distance and peeked over the sill. The heavy drapes were not pulled. It appeared to be a small dining room lit by candles in a chandelier. There were two sideboards and a large shiny wooden table. The chairs were pushed away from it. The double doors at the end of the room were closed.

         I could see two of the Linton family at the table. Edgar had his back to us, or at least I assumed it was Edgar. I could not see his face, and would not be able to tell his bare arse from any other man’s. He had a garter on one arm near his muscle, and that was the only stitch of cloth on his body. In his right hand was a clear piece of glass, round but long, like a sausage. I could only compare it to my recent visitor in length. Edgar was holding it at one end.

          Isabella also had her back to us, or rather her backside. She had assumed the same position I’d found myself in my father’s library two nights ago, but she was atop the table. Her head and face rested on the wood, but her back arched upward so that her bottom was elevated and her legs spread. We weren’t directly in back of her, but to the side. I could clearly see her fair hair and her left arm gripping the side of the table. She spoke, quieter this time.

         “How I wish I could have the real thing, Edgar, even that little thing you have. You won’t fuck me because you make such a big thing about we being brother and sister. With what we have available around here, we both may die as virgins.” She let out a sigh and continued, “Do it again, Edgar. It’s better than me using my hand.”

         “Wait a minute, Isabella, how do you know my thing is little? How did you get to be such an expert?”

         “I saw Turpin peeing in the barn, and last year I was out riding and came upon two of Mr. Hardcastle’s men bathing. When they saw me riding nearby, they both jumped out of the water and flaunted their cocks, holding them up in their hands.”

         Edgar had turned slightly so that I could see him in profile. His was standing up like Heathcliff’s when excited, but it was definitely not as long or thick as what I had experienced. I was mystified by the word ‘fuck’ that Isabella had said. I’d looked toward Heathcliff when she said it, but his eye was on the fair Isabella. For a second I felt jealous, but then I realized he was only acting out the same instincts and feelings that led me to experiment with my fingers and that lured him to the barn. I wondered how Edgar would feel inside my pussy or my arse, whether his cock being smaller would make a difference. I did not see how I could learn.

         Edgar drew toward his sister mounted on her perch, raised the arm with the glass in it and answered her. “After hearing that I should put this fine dildo up your arse for the first time.”

         “Not tonight, Edgar, please. I hope I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Sometimes it does get so frustrating here. Remember when we started our games, playing doctor, and we both used our fingers and that day when Mama nearly caught us? You were over my lap and I had gotten two fingers in that little hole you have. That would have been funny.
         “Well, do me some more and then I’ll yank you off again. Maybe I will stretch it.” Isabella giggled at her remark. Edgar moved the glass to his other hand and slapped her bottom hard twice. His sister was as heavy as Edgar was thin. The flesh of her arse jiggled.

         “You can do that some more, Edgar,” but he transferred the glass probe back to his right hand and brought it forward between her legs. I could see it enter her pussy and heard her moan. She shook a little, Edgar withdrew it, almost all the way out, and inserted it slowly again. He repeated this three, four or, well I lost count because I began to imagine it being put into me. I could not help it. I began to moan.

PART TEN
I Make New Friends

         Edgar must have heard me; he turned his head. I ducked, as did Heathcliff, but in lowering my body, I fell over my fellow watcher and landed on my back in the flower bed. Edgar’s head appeared at the lighted window. “What do we have here?” he said. “Why look, Isabella, I believe it is the Earnshaw girl, Cathy isn’t it? My,hasn't she grown up nicely! And who is this uncouth gentleman with her?”

         The nude Isabella appeared at the French door, opened it and motioned to us to come in. We shuffled inside, ashamed of ourselves at getting caught. I was more amazed that neither Linton put on clothes. Edgar had darker hair on his head than his sister, but I could not help but notice that my growth of hair in other places was much more luxuriant than either of the hosts.

         “It is Miss Cathy Earnshaw, isn’t it?” Edgar asked solicitously.

         I nodded my head.

         “And who is this wild man with you?”

         “His name is Heathcliff; until recently he lived in our house.”

         “You mean in your stable, Miss Earnshaw. He looks like the stable boy.”

         “No he lived with us like a brother. Dr Kenneth brought him to Father. Father died and my brother threw us out.”

         Edgar spoke with in a high pitched voice that at first was grating, but which I was getting to like. He seemed to fill a part of my life that Heathcliff, with his streets of Liverpool ways, lacked, but he did not have Heathcliff’s animal magnetism. He changed the subject to my brother.

         “And how is the pious toper? Is he ever sober?”

         I broke down a little answering him. “When he is sober, he is even meaner than when drunk. That is why we are here. We were hoping your parents could take us in for a little while, while we or someone tries to talk some sense into Hindley.”

         “Our parents have gone to America for four years, but there is no reason you should not stay, Miss Cathy. Did you like the games you saw Isabella and I playing?”

         I must have turned a fine shade of scarlet, and then I smiled. “That looked like fun. What was that piece of glass.”

         “That is our Waterford dildo. I had it sent from London. Do you think you would like to try it, Miss Cathy? I am very gentle inserting it.”

         I smiled shyly. I did not feel out of place talking with these two naked people in this lovely little dining room. Edgar clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

         “Good, then it’s settled. A servant will make up a bedroom, Miss Cathy, while your friend can help with our horses.”

         Heathcliff’s face blackened. For the first time he spoke, “I might as well go back to Wuthering Heights, or Liverpool.”

         “You might as well, my boy.” This was Edgar’s insufferable side. I knew I had to intercede and I hoped my pleas would not lead to both of us being driven from the Linton door. It was at that moment that another voice spoke.

         “Edgar, he is a man-boy, and he has what I need." Her emphasis was on the second part of her sentence. "Don’t you dare send him away!” Isabella’s hand had found the magic wand and even though it was still inside Heathcliff’s pants, it was obvious that she too had the touch of Venus. I was worried that Heathcliff would react badly to Edgar’s obvious desire to take on another woman. Would my ‘brother’ feel possessive of me? Would he allow himself to be with another woman?

         I needn’t have fretted. He gave Edgar’s sister a fine slap on her rear. He looked at me, smiled and said, “She has more fat and less hair, but the same equipment as you. I wonder if she likes to be touched here.” I noted Isabella’s flabby legs shivering with joy and I smiled. Then I remembered something important.

         “Mr. Linton, Edgar, could you use another woman servant here? I left my dear mistress Ellen with my brother. I fear for her there.”

         “Anything for you, my sweet.” Already Edgar had lifted my dress and was inspecting the merchandise. I had the feeling it would be a beautiful four-way friendship.

PART ELEVEN
I Find Paradise

         Edgar was as good as his word. This next morning a servant left in a wagon to fetch Miss Ellen. She told me when she arrived that Hindley was furious that she was leaving. Mr. Joseph did not think it would be a problem living there alone with Hindley. He thought his main duty would be opening new bottles.

         Ellen became my maidservant again, living in the servants’ quarters.. Each of the four of us had our own large bedroom. We never used them for playtime. Those sessions took place in Edgar and Isabella’s parents’ master bedchamber, with its large four poster bed, or in the drawing room and small dining room downstairs. My room was next to Isabella’s in the West wing of the house, while Edgar and Heathcliff were on the same hallway but several rooms away.

         Isabella and I fast became friends. We would often talk at night, in one of our rooms, silhouetted by a candle until late at night. Sometimes one of us would crawl in bed next to the other and we would sleep the night that way. We would talk about our hopes and dreams, and the life around us now. Most of our talk seemed to be about Heathcliff and Edgar and the games we played. What a difference having a nice brother makes.

         “Edgar’s been the way he is now since we were little. I think I was seven or eight when he first wanted me to take off my clothes and explore me. He was pretending he was a doctor.”

         I burst out laughing and told her that was how I lured Heathcliff the first time.

         “How old were you then, Cathy?”

         “That was just this month.” I smiled; I was a little embarrassed. “You’ve been doing things so much longer, Isabella.”

         “But you made love before I did. Heathcliff was my first. Brother and sister can’t do it.”

         “Making love, is that what you call it?” Isabella seemed to know so much.

         “That’s what adults call it, but I think of it as just fun. Wish we had one more boy but Heathcliff. I know we have Edgar but he can only use that dildo and his fingers on me. You know it really is Waterford. Edgar didn’t have it shipped from London, that was the doing of Uncle Jester.
         “You know, Cathy, Edgar is so happy you came here. He’s been searching for playmates for years. When I was eleven, we had a woman servant who lived in the village. Once in a while she would bring her boy and girl who were the same age as we. Edgar tried to talk Sally into playing with us, and getting Ben to play also. As soon as he explained the games, the kids ran off home and we never saw them again. Mrs. Fowlkes, that was the name of the woman, never returned either. Father always wondered why.”

         “He didn’t know what you two were doing?”

         “Not a hint. He would have taken a belt to the both of us.” She giggled.

         “My horrid brother did catch Heathcliff and I. I was whipped with the birch the night I left home and Father died. You would not like it, believe me, but oddly as I listened to the switch moving through the air, and felt the sting on my bottom, it was kind of exciting. I was very damp when Miss Ellen finished. Such a short time ago, didn’t you notice the welts on my arse?”

         Once again, she giggled. “I wasn’t particularly looking at your arse, dear Cathy. Now Heathcliff has a sexy rump, wouldn’t you say?”

         I just smiled at her.

         “Well, Cathy, if you want to show me your bottom and your wounds, pull up your nightgown and I will take a peek in this dim candlelight.”

         I followed her orders, and blushed a little at the idea of my girlfriend examining my bottom.

         “The marks are almost gone, Cathy. Your arse is not as handsome as Heathcliff’s, but I think you have Edgar beat. I am surprised he did not remark on the welts when you were up on the table. And how did you like the Waterford?”

         “Oh my, Isabella, it felt so cool sliding in me.”

         “Was it better than Edgar? It looks bigger than he is. But it couldn’t have been better than Heathcliff! I will always bless the day you found him, or rather Dr. Kenneth.”

         “No it was not better than Edgar! And Heathcliff IS something. He just keeps going and going. With Edgar he does it twice in a night and can't get it stiff again. I think that is why he has his Waterford toy.”

         “I hate to ask you this, Cathy, but both of them have fucked you and I wondered if the longer cock felt better?”

         “Fucked? I hard you say that word once before.”

         “Grown ups call it that, but not in public. Neat word, huh?”

         “Isabella, once they penetrate me, I never notice the length or how thick it is. I get so excited it doesn’t matter. I guess I do like Heathcliff’s thicker penis when he puts it in my arse.”

         “I wonder about that. I saw Edgar put the dildo in you there too. He only threatened to do it to me and only used his finger there, goosing me as we say. Do you think I would like it?”

         “It feels wonderful to me, Isabella, and I can’t make babies there.”

         “That is a thought. What if Heathcliff and I made a baby, or you and Edgar, or Heathcliff to both of us? Have you thought of marrying Edgar and leaving Heathcliff for me?”

         I was getting sleepy, but her last question roused me. I thought about it and came to the logical conclusion. “Why can’t I marry them both, and you can marry Heathcliff too. Why can’t we live like this, in paradise, forever?”

         Isabella leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and told me she was tired. She blew out the candle and put her head back, I lay next to her. As I thought of our little heaven on earth, my hand wandered to that spot I’d only found last year. Daydreams of Heathcliff, Edgar and Isabella accompanied the circling of my finger. Isabella roused herself slightly and spoke. “You too?” I hadn’t noticed in the dark that she was taking her pleasure also. Soon we were happy and asleep.

PART TWELVE
I Reward The Faithful Ellen

         Several months passed. The four of us cemented our circle, though I could not say all friendships were totally equal. Edgar and Heathcliff never developed the closeness we two women did, but then one day the unexpected happened. A letter arrived in the post, announcing that Heathcliff was the sole heir of the now deceased Earl of Chiltern and had inherited a fortune. The four of us traveled to Liverpool to meet a solicitor and take his inheritance. Heathcliff was now three times wealthier than my family and Edgar’s together.

         The Earnshaws actually subtracted from the sum total. Hindley had spent the months drinking and gambling and now his debts far exceeded the value of Wuthering Heights. If one of his creditors pressed him, the run would be on and my father’s proud house sold out of the family. I was not aware that Heathcliff knew this, but on our way back, he met with a local solicitor in Duncaston in private. He would only tell me that Hindley’s day of reckoning would come.

         Nothing happened, however. Christmas was coming on. In my spare time I began making a gift for Miss Ellen. She remained devoted to me, and was very aware of why the four of us were happy. She drew her happiness from mine, whispering to me that she still had her secret vice.

         I did too. Many nights I was tempted to ask Isabella to swap hands as we lay there, but I did not want to lose her friendship if she did not want to do so. As for Ellen's and my little secret, I knew that while it brought pleasure, fucking Edgar or Heathcliff was much more thrilling. I considered asking one of them, preferably Edgar, to grant Miss Ellen a boon, but my idea was put aside until one cold December day when I found someone better.

         Dr. Kenneth was visiting for a medical reason. Isabella had asked him to attend to her on a matter that does not need to be aired in my story. I suppose it was from her that the Doctor found how we spent a great deal of our time. After the consultation, the doctor and Isabella sat down with Miss Ellen and I for tea. The men were outside at the time. Dr. Kenneth spoke bluntly to me, but with a twinkle in his eye. “I am glad you have an outlet for the excitement I felt you craved that day I came to examine you.”

         “Yes, it’s wonderful, Dr. Kenneth.” Then the idea swept over me. I plunged in, “But there are friends and retainers who have never experienced that joy, and they should, and from someone kind and gentle.” Dr. Kenneth looked at me, and to my left where Miss Ellen sat. He had a smile in his voice as he said, “Why you are blushing, Miss Ellen?” He walked to her chair, took her hand and led her from the room. I needn’t go on with the details. My mistress deserves her privacy.

         Dr. Kenneth joined us for supper and seated Miss Ellen beside him. It was difficult for her to put food in her mouth because of the giant smile that crossed her face. They retired again before coffee was served. We retreated to the drawing room, had fires built in both fireplaces to keep the chill off our bodies, which shortly lost their clothes. We then began a new game invented by Edgar called “Wagon Train.” He thought the game up to use his early Christmas present given to him by Isabella. It was a second piece of Waterford.

         Isabella led the train, bent over from the waste, knees flexed. Heathcliff was attached to her in that natural place that always used for coupling. His hands were on her hips. I followed Heathcliff and was given the honor of carrying the old Waterford. Edgar instructed me to place it in the portal hidden in Heathcliff’s behind. When I inserted it, he jumped forward and Isabella let out a vivid groan. I asked if I had hurt him but he told me to put my other hand on his waist. Shortly I felt Edgar enter my arse and place one of his hands on my hip. With his other, he inserted his new Waterford in his own arse and shouted, “Now, I say, let us proceed, and celebrate the season.” The train moved about the room slowly, singing “Deck the Halls.” The double door opened and our other dinner partners entered, undressed for the occasion. Age did not matter; they took their place at the back of the line.

PART THIRTEEN
I Witness Hindley's Judgment Day

         Christmas Day was to be Hindley’s Day of Judgment. Heathcliff pronounced this at breakfast to the other five of us, for now Dr. Kenneth and Ellen were part of the daily revels. After fortifying ourselves against the cold, we set off in two carriages.

         I saw no smoke coming from the chimney. Joseph had gone home in November, not having been paid for several months. The door was open. Sprawled on a divan was Hindley, out like the proverbial light. Heathcliff shook him and doused his face with water. That scowl that never left him showed again. He screamed, “Get out of my house, Heathcliff, and take my whoring sister with you along with the rest of you bastards.”

         The anger that Heathcliff had stored up burst out. “It’s my house now, Hindley. I have paid off your debts and bought Wuthering Heights. You live here at my forbearance, and if you wish to continue to keep your miserable body out of the cold, you will receive your Christmas present.”

         Hindley blinked the look of someone trying to clear his head, and asked, “What present?”

         “Last spring, you had your sister whipped here in this house. She was forced to lift her dress above the waist and was humiliated to satisfy you and your need for vengeance. Today you will pay me the rent to live here the next year. You will be birched twice the fifty lashes you suggested Cathy receive. Drop your pants and assume the same position Cathy did."

         Hindley realized Heathcliff was deadly serious. He began to cry and speak incoherently. Heathcliff showed no mercy, “Get every stitch of those filthy rags off, stable boy.”

         When my brother did nothing but continue to blubber, Heathcliff grabbed him and began to pull off his shirt. Edgar and the doctor began to help. Hindley kicked but that only led to him being put on the floor. His pants were pulled off. In less than two minutes, he was stood up, naked in front of us, and then pushed down and spread-eagled on his stomach on the floor.

         While he was on his feet, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander to that sight I had seen in childhood. I knew now that men’s cocks were not the same size, but my brothers was certainly no bigger today than when he was that little boy. I could barely see it hiding in that thick pubic hair that seems to be part of being an Earnshaw.

         He had stopped fighting; his arse was stuck in the air and his legs spread, waiting for the first lash of the birch. I heard the whistle of the first strike. My brother screamed and recoiled, but pushed himself up again. I was going to enjoy every minute of this.

         It must have been around the twelfth stroke that I felt the presence of Isabella beside me. In a normal voice she said, “Cathy, I must say you were blessed with the best looking arse in your family. His is even uglier than Edgar’s.”

         “Or my sagging bottom,” chimed in Ellen.

         “Why yours is just lovely, Ellen.” Leave it to the good doctor to say the right thing.

         My eyes fell on Edgar. His eyes were gleaming, staring at the sight below him. By now red welts were striped across my sorry brother’s behind. Edgar grabbed Heathcliff’s arm and motioned him to stop.

         “No, Edgar, the bastard has a lot more coming.” There was fire in Heathcliff’s voice.

         “Oh, but I want to give him something worse, something that will humiliate him completely.”

         Heathcliff stepped back. From the gleam in his eye, I thought Edgar might be thinking of the Waterford dildo. If anyone was to ram that up his arsehole, it should have been me, but Edgar had something far more diabolical in mind.

         He dropped his pants to his ankles and knelt behind my brother, who was still on his knees, head down and bottom up. Edgar grabbed Hindley around the waist and pulled him toward him. I could swear Edgar had added at least an inch to his arsenal on the ride over to Wuthering Heights. I watched with amazement as Edgar’s penis disappeared slowly up my brother’s arse.

         Hindley cried out, but as Edgar slowly withdrew and reinserted it again and again, the cries turned to moans of excitement. I knew what was happening. He was enjoying it. I was going to stop it when Edgar reached his climax. The two men shook, jerked and then disengaged. I grabbed the birch and began to thrash Hindley, but after a few, I realized that he was an Earnshaw and the pain was giving him pleasure.

         “Enough,” I shouted, "the bastard likes it." I took one parting shot, deciding to kick his afflcited bottom, but I shot low. The toe of my boot landed on the two sorry radishes hanging between his legs. Hindley rolled over in pain. The floor beneath where he had knelt showed a puddle of grey jizzim. He was on his back, in agony holding his balls. I saw his sorry cock had hardened. There are inchworms that are bigger.

PART FOURTEEN
I Bid My Reader Farewell

         Spring has come to the land again. Our daily roundelays continue. If it weren’t for the servants I think we would dispense with clothes. Edgar would like to invite Hindley to live here, but Heathcliff and I will not have it, nor will Isabella. Once a week at least, her brother spends his day at Wuthering Heights. We don’t ask questions. The Christmas scene led me to confess to Isabella that seeing the two men made me remember thinking of asking her if we could try our fingers on each other. She replied that she had thought the same thing. Many a night now sees us pleasuring the other. We’ve discussed inviting Ellen to our bed sometime, and both of us have been using our tongues in places we never thought they would touch.

         Life is wonderful on the Moors, and at those rare times when I worry, or when I am not happy, I set myself down, lift my skirt and take the world firmly in my hands and fingers.

Catherine Earnshaw
18-5-18__