Mary & Elizabeth. Emily Purdy

remember him once dropping to his knees and scampering about the room on all fours, barking like a dog, as he gave chase to my flustered governess, running her round and round the room, before he pounced and sunk his teeth into her “great buttocks” through her voluminous billowing white bedgown. Kat yelped and clutched her bottom. “Oh you wicked, wicked man!” she cried as she fled back into her bedchamber and bolted and barricaded the door behind her. And muffled by its thickness we heard her repeat again that Tom was a “wicked, wicked man” and never had she seen the likes of him, whilst I fell back on my bed, convulsed with glee, and he, still playing the fool, bounded up onto the bed and began to kiss and lick me from head to toe, like a great big, playful puppy.

      Another time, when she walked in just as he was lifting the hem of his nightshirt, to mischievously show me what I had done to him, Kat gave a squeal of horror and Tom turned smilingly to her and lifted his nightshirt still higher and began to walk towards her, holding his cock like a weapon. “Lift up that skirt, woman,” he smilingly commanded. “I want to see if those great buttocks of yours are truly the stuff of dreams and then, perhaps, I shall indeed stuff this between them!” With a terrified shriek, Kat fled, again to lock and barricade herself in her room, leaving me, her charge, to fend for myself, as Tom shucked off his nightshirt and leapt laughing onto my bed and into my arms.