Schooled for Service

by Lady Alice McCloud

  ‘I was caught that way,’ Sally-Anne put in.

  ‘So was I,’ Kirsty admitted, ‘in the end. I hadn’t been in Glasgow a half-day before some grass went for it.’

  ‘The same with us,’ Jane said. ‘We got the train, no trouble, and made Leeds...’

  ‘...where we ran back down the tracks,’ Joanna took over. ‘We earned some money quick enough, and thought we’d take a lodging, but the landlady we chose went straight to the police.’

  ‘She’d recognised us,’ Jane admitted. ‘There were posters up and all.’

  ‘You stick out a mile, together, and with your voices and all,’ Kirsty answered. ‘You’d have been better separate, the way Elizabeth said.’

  Both girls shook their heads.

  ‘Lucy?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘The dogs had me,’ Lucy replied sullenly, ‘as was intended.’

  Kirsty laughed.

  ‘Well, if you won’t try!’

  ‘It was what I deserve,’ Lucy answered, staring at the floor.

  ‘I know what I deserve,’ Kirsty responded, with a significant glance at Thrift, who spoke quickly.

  ‘You’re terrible bruised. What did they do to you?’

  ‘A hundred of the strap,’ Kirsty answered, turning to open her drawers and show off her colourful bottom, ‘and the peelers had a fair go and all.’

  ‘You don’t seem to mind so very much?’ Thrift asked cautiously.

  ‘I mind,’ Kirsty answered, ‘but I’m not as soft as you, and I’ve had worse besides.’

  ‘Worse?’ Thrift asked. ‘When... when you worked as... when you sold yourself.’

  ‘No. Never then. They could have a spank, a ha’penny a smack, but nothing to leave marks, not on my girls.’

  ‘Your girls?’ Sally-Anne asked as Thrift gave a puzzled frown. ‘You ran girls?’

  ‘Ay, I did,’ Kirsty answered, ‘and a fine house I had, five girls working together, and not a bloody pimp in sight. It was a grand thing, no rolling the marks and clean, with a doctor in once a month. Better than working the streets, I tell you, but it wouldn’t do. Immoral, they said, for all that they’ll not stop girls working, nor men paying, not ‘til Doomsday, but no, they’d rather have us risking our lives down behind the docks than safe and warm in a house. See this, the man who caught us out, from the Christian Brothers Moral Society if you please, he took a poke at me, me myself, not two hours before he brought in the peelers. Bastard hypocrite!’

  ‘So they brought you here?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘Not direct, no. I was two months in Govan Workhouse for Delinquent Women, no pay, not a penny, and a whipping daily for the good of my soul. That was where I learnt what a whipping is. Naked they had us, strapped up to a rack, with the Governors watching, like as not, and most of them men, dirty bastards! Tossing their little cocks the minute they got home, I’ll bet. Not that I’d care, so much, not if they said what they wanted and paid proper coin, but they’ve piety for crap, those sorts, and they’re no better than any other.’

  ‘I’m sorry you were so ill used,’ Thrift said, ‘and I am also sorry if I’ve sometimes looked down on you. I realise now I had no right.’

  ‘You’ve every right,’ Kirsty answered, ‘seeing as how you’re quality and I’m a slut from a Glasgow gutter and not fit to tie your boots. That’s why it feels so good with your tongue up my arsehole, which is just what I’m needing right now, so enough gab. You, you’re not a bad girl, Thrift, for a Pollicle, but it soothes my soul to have you licking Brown Billy, and you’d best get used to it. Come then, roll over and I’ll make a throne of your face.’

  Thrift found herself pouting but she did as she was told, rolling over on the bed so that Kirsty could mount her head, bottom hole to mouth. The moment the firm, egg shaped cheeks had settled over her face she began to lick, tonguing the tight hole the way Kirsty liked, using the tip to flick at the little bumps and creases and occasionally burrowing it in. Kirsty sighed with pleasure as she began to play with her quim, rubbing herself in front of them all without a hint of shame. Thrift’s legs came wide, showing her own quim to the other girls as she started to play with herself.

  ‘See that, she loves it really,’ Kirsty laughed. ‘Eh, Thrifty, you love to be my little Pollicle bitch, don’t you just?’

  A stab of humiliation went through Thrift, and she began to lick harder, burrowing her tongue as deep up Kirsty’s bottom as it would go, to draw a sigh of pleasure from the Scot. She began to rub herself more firmly too, and more lewdly, deliberately spreading the lips of her quim to let them all see the pink centre and her torn maidenhead. Her orgasm was beginning to rise when another voice spoke, Sally-Anne’s, firm and level.

  ‘She had better like it, Kirsty MacAuslan, or you’d be across my knee right this moment, you would.’

  Kirsty stopped masturbating. So did Thrift, also licking. Kirsty spoke.

  ‘And how would that be? Would you put me there, I suppose?’

  ‘I would,’ Sally-Anne answered quietly.

  ‘That I’d like to see!’ Kirsty laughed. ‘Come on now, bitch, get your tongue back in the brown, I was near...’

  She broke off, swearing in surprise as her bottom rose from Thrift’s face, then in anger as Sally-Anne lifted her bodily from the bed.

  ‘Get off, you fat hag! Who...’

  Again her words broke, in a cry of surprise and shock as Sally-Anne threw her hard down on the spare bed. Before she could recover her breath the big girl was on top of her, straddling her back, one arm, caught, then the other, and held at the wrists, to leave the firm, bulbous egg of Kirsty’s bottom completely vulnerable. She could do nothing, despite her frantically kicking legs, her twisting, writhing body, and her stream of furious invective. Sally-Anne barely seemed to notice, but began to spank, just gently, enough to make Kirsty’s bottom wobble a little. The result was more furious struggles and swear words, most of which Thrift had never heard before, but it only served to set the twins laughing.

  ‘Get her!’ Jane laughed. ‘What a fuss, and she’s barely being patted!’

  ‘Our turn next,’ Joanna giggled. ‘And don’t be such a baby, Kirsty!’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt!’ Kirsty yelled. ‘And another word from you, you black-faced bitches, and by God... get off my back, you fat tart!’

  ‘Oo! Words is it?’ Jane said. ‘You’re the tart, Kirsty, ain’t you just!’

  ‘Yeah, tart!’ Joanna taunted.

  The spanking stopped, and Sally-Anne climbed off Kirsty’s back, to stand with her arms folded. Kirsty bounced quickly up, and turned on Sally-Anne, only to stop, apparently thinking better of it. Instead she growled at the twins.

  ‘You’ve sucked your share of cocks, the both of you!’ Kirsty spat. ‘And worse, I’m guessing. What’re you here for, eh? Quiet about that, you are, and I reckon I know why, so less with the names!’

  Suddenly both the twins were blushing, but Joanna answered.

  ‘If you have to know, we were tricked into giving ourselves to the foreman at the mine, and then, when he tired...’

  ‘Two colliery girls?’ Kirsty answered. ‘Sent here, just for fucking? I don’t believe you. Her Ladyship here, maybe so, and Elizabeth and all, but you? No. See you, you were caught with your faces in each others cunts, that’s what I reckon!’

  Jane opened her mouth to speak, but her face was crimson and no words came out. Joanna was no better. Kirsty laughed.

  ‘I thought so! I did! But don’t regret yourselves, ‘cause you’re in good company. I’m a madam, me, and proud of it. Her Ladyship and Lizzie, they’re sluts, and a fine pair of disgraces to their high-and-mighty families, you may be sure. Sally-Anne... Never mind, you, Sally-Anne, but Lucy, see Lucy, who won’t say a bloody word. What did she do, d’you think?’

  Lucy had coloured up, and began
to make a show of tidying her bed. Thrift was barely listening, but gaping at Jane and Joanna, who looked thoroughly crestfallen. She remembered the stocks, how defiant the two girls had been, how vicious and hateful the crowd, and her own pursuers when the Brookes had found she was from Weathercote.

  She’d sat up, and felt confused and a little put out. Her orgasm had been building in her head when Kirsty was pulled off, and her quim was still warm and needy. Kirsty now seemed in an ill temper, and no longer aroused, while her bad reaction to the spanking had broken the atmosphere of sexual tension that quickly infected the others if one girl was made to lick. Jane and Joanna had turned away, and looked ready to cry.

  ‘We each of us has her cross to bear,’ Thrift said, ‘and should not mock one another’s misfortune, nor mistakes. For all that I am here by an unhappy accident, I hold myself no better than you, any of you, and would hope you would each approach the others with the same attitude of companionship. Joanna, Jane, we are taught that what you have done is a terrible thing, a sin against God and a crime against your fellow men. I forgive you, in the hope that you will forgive me my own failings, and... and I will not venture criticism should you choose to... to comfort each other. Now, please, Kirsty, would you come back on my bed? I was enjoying being made to do what I was.’

  ‘That’s a brave little speech and no mistake,’ Kirsty answered, ‘and yes, you can lick some more. See, Sally, didn’t I say? And, ay, if you two want to lick each others’ cunts you’ll get no ill words from me.’

  Jane was looking the other way. Joanna gave Thrift a wan smile. Sally-Anne shrugged.

  ‘I would be very pleased to do the same for you too, Sally,’ Thrift said quickly, ‘and thank you for taking my part.’

  Sally-Anne returned a grin, and took Thrift’s hand as it was extended. Kirsty had been coming back around the bed, but stopped, unprotesting as Thrift knelt to go down between Sally-Anne’s thighs. Opening Sally-Anne’s drawers, Thrift began to lick. Sally-Anne sighed and leant back against the wall with her legs pulled up, allowing Thrift to get at her bottom hole. Thrift took the hint, burrowing her tongue in to the rubbery, puckered ring, deep, then licking at it before turning her attention to Sally’s quim. She heard Lucy squeak, and a glance back showed that Kirsty hadn’t bothered to wait. She was mounted on Lucy’s face, bottom to mouth, her eyes closed in pleasure.

  Thrift got back to work, licking busily as her fingers went to her own quim. She was soaking, and a few quick touches had her close to orgasm, only for Sally to lift her bodily onto the bed. They rolled together, Sally pulling up her chemise to allow Thrift’s mouth to get at her nipples. Thrift began to suckle as she put a hand between Sally’s thighs, rubbing as she gave her own quim the same treatment. Moments later she’d come, with her mouth full of nipple and her fingers busy in wet, fleshy slits. The instant she was done she went down again, kneeling on the bed with her bottom lifted and spread, totally unashamed of her rude rear view, until Sally had come in her turn. Satisfied, they crawled into Thrift’s bed together, cuddling up to watch Lucy bring Kirsty to climax across the dormitory.

  The twins had not played together, nor slept together, although they made no attempt to deny that it was the cause of their being brought to Weathercote House. It also seemed to explain why for all their rough background they were often quiet, and never, ever allowed anybody to come between them.

  After Sally-Anne had spanked Kirsty, the atmosphere in the dormitory changed. Kirsty still made a point of having Thrift lick her, usually in her bottom hole, and usually in full view of the others, but neither Sally-Anne nor the twins deferred as they had done before. As often as not Thrift found herself on her knees for the twins, or having to do Sally-Anne first, while Lucy was used more and more often. Thrift no longer minded, save for when Kirsty was rough with her, and with Sally-Anne present that had become rare.

  What she did mind were the increased strappings. Nothing was said, and yet Thrift came to suspect that in addition to the sacking of Mrs Budge, the chaperones had been punished in some way. Kirsty felt it was likely Miss Scarsdale had caned them, but nothing had been heard, and the others thought a reduction in pay more likely. Whatever the case, their resentment was taken out on the girls’ bottoms, with the standard number of strokes for minor offences increased from three to six, and punished girls were made to go bare bottomed for the remainder of the day. So frequent was the discipline that as often as not all six of them would come up to dormitory stark naked below the waist and with cherry red bottoms all round.

  The punishments, and the continued absence of Elizabeth, made Thrift’s mind turn to escape more and more often. Yet even running was no longer easy, let alone staying free. Still she plotted, often lying awake late at night running over the possibilities for what she might do, also at prayers, meals and even during classes. The rule of silence gave her time to think, but made it hard to discuss her ideas with the others, who were clearly going to have to come.

  Leaving together had worked, allowing all of them to remain free for at least the first night, excepting Lucy, who had been sacrificed in any case. It would work again too, as there were only so many chaperones and so many dogs. Out of six, only one or two would be captured immediately if they scattered, giving the remainder a far better chance. Thrift simply had to ensure she was one of the remainder.

  Whatever she did, it was clearly important not to leave a trail that could be followed. Somehow she had to break the line of her scent, so that Mr Ormondroyd would turn his dogs to a less difficult target. Once out on the moors, she needed to get clear of the district, and using the railway was obviously expected by the chaperones, while with rewards posted for their capture, and their descriptions evidently circulated to at least some police stations, using the cover of a city could not be relied upon.

  The answer seemed to be not to look like herself, and to go somewhere unexpected. Kendal, with its bustling tourists, seemed ideal. Kirsty had passed undetected, and strangers of every class would be commonplace. If she could pass herself off as anything other than quality, there seemed a good chance of her escaping detection. There were advantages to being quality, it was true, but the disadvantages were greater. For one thing the chances of being recognised were considerable. Travelling as a woman of the lower orders also posed problems, her accent and her manners sure to give her away sooner or as later. Yet if she travelled as a professional it was certain that nobody would know her and in the north of England her accent would pass.

  That meant taking a travelling companion, somebody who could pass as being in service, and who would also take on the task of making the money they would need, by offering to suck men’s cocks for pay, something Thrift had no intention of doing if she could help it. Kirsty and the twins were out of the questions, their coarse manners and strong accents sure to arouse suspicion, while with them Thrift knew that she would be the one to end up on her knees with a penis in her mouth. Sally-Anne was better, but Lucy ideal, with her mild manners and gentle, delicate ways. If Lucy was presented as a maid acting as a companion, and Thrift as the daughter of a professional house, nobody would think to question them. Lucy would also do as she was told.

  Kendal, professional rank and Lucy to offer to sell herself to as many men as was necessary offered an opportunity which was closed to the other girls and had seemed closed to her, to take passage on an airship, and thus return directly to London, or at the least travel far enough to ensure that nobody would have heard of Weathercote House. The more she thought about it the better it seemed, and she decided to suggest escaping to the others as soon as she had worked out the last detail, how to leave Weathercote House undetected. Kirsty beat her to it, and was standing at the window to inspect the state of her bottom in the evening light when she made the suggestion.

  ‘That’s the worst gone,’ she said, peering back as she pulled at one cheek to view as much of the surface as possible.

&nb
sp; She had been given eighteen strap strokes that day, but beyond a few red marks nothing showed, while the severe welts of her one hundred stroke thrashing had all but disappeared. Thrift had that moment disconnected the microphone, and allowed Sally-Anne to lift her down.

  ‘I’ve a mind to try to run again,’ Kirsty announced. ‘Who’s with me?’

  ‘I am,’ Thrift replied, with the twins and Sally-Anne nodding instant agreement.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ Kirsty answered. ‘Come on, you, Lucy. Show some spirit, Hen!’

  ‘I... I’d rather stay,’ Lucy answered. ‘I deserve this, and more.’

  ‘So you say,’ Kirsty answered. ‘What did you do? Can’t be that terrible, or you’d be in prison, and no a house of shame.’

  ‘It was,’ Lucy answered. ‘I’d rather not say.’

  ‘Suit yourself, but you’re coming anyway.’

  Lucy simply nodded.

  ‘Come with me, please, Lucy,’ Thrift offered. ‘I’ve been thinking about this, and I think I have a way out, if we can just get clear of the house with a night to spare.’

  ‘How’s that?’ Jane asked.

  ‘I’d prefer not to say,’ Thrift answered.

  ‘Maybe for the best,’ Kirsty agreed. ‘If we get free together and then follow our own heads, maybe we’ll stand the best chance.’

  ‘How would we leave?’ Joanna asked.

  ‘Ay, well, I’ve thought of that one,’ Kirsty said. ‘So long as Miss Ponderby is alone at night, we’ve every chance. Sally, do you reckon you can take her, with our help?’

  Sally-Anne nodded.

  ‘And have her gagged and trussed before she can call the other hags?’

  ‘They’ll still be awake,’ Joanna pointed out.

  ‘We would be better to wait until dark,’ Thrift put in, ‘then to misbehave, and when she comes to see to us...’