by Wild, Lucy
“Good girl,” she whispered, stroking my hair as my eyes glazed over, my throat filling with her milk. I kept drinking for some time, my tongue sliding in small circles around her nipple as my lips remained clamped around her breast. “My, you are hungry aren’t you?”
Only when I felt full to bursting did I relax my grip, feeling strangely disappointed as her nipple slid from my mouth. “You did well,” she said. “Though you were not given permission to speak and you did talk did you not?”
I opened my mouth to protest before closing it again, nodding my head sadly.
“Not to worry, I am not as strict as Lord Hawthorne. I will give you a choice. Three with it off or six with it on?”
I frowned, not understanding the question. She sighed. “Three spanks with the nappy off or six with it on?”
My eyes widened as I realised what she was asking. I clearly took too long considering the matter as she made the decision for me. “Three with it off,” she said, bending me over the table and lifting the back of my frock. She stood beside me and yanked my nappy to my ankles, pulling my hips back until I felt utterly at her mercy.
Her hand landed on my bare bottom a moment later and it was all I could do to resist crying out. She did not raise her hand though, instead sliding it across my buttocks in a soft motion, the sensation heightened by the intensity of the blow she’d just struck, my nerve endings on fire. Just as her hands slid down towards my thighs she raised her arm and spanked me again. The smacking sound was still echoing around the room as I let out a mangled groan.
Her hand again slid over my bottom, this time finding its way between my buttocks, a single finger running down from the very top, downwards, running over the ridged tightness around my private hole before coming away. She spanked me a final time, her hand landing on the very top of my thighs. It remained there, her fingers moving between my tightly closed legs, brushing over the core of me before pulling away. She moved her fingers to my eyes and held them closely for me to see they glistened with wetness. “You are growing up fast,” she said. “Good girl.”
With those words, she patted my behind before pulling my nappy back up, her hands sliding up the inside of my thighs as she did so. I felt quite flushed as she bid me to sit down once more, setting the dummy back in my mouth whilst feelings that I did not understand churned in my mind as the next lesson began.
Chapter 4
We remained at the table for another two hours and by the time we were allowed to stand, I felt a strong need for the toilet. We were marched in single file from the room and into the chapel to hear a service. Lord Hawthorne stood at the front, reading from Scripture whilst we all sat in silence. For myself the urge to use the toilet was growing ever stronger and the passing minutes seemed to stretch into hours. Still the service went on and by the time it was finished I felt more desperate to relieve myself than I had done in many years. I hoped for the opportunity to find a water closet but we were instead marched outside to the grass for exercise. We strolled around like a human horse race, following a set circle of white painted into the grass by the rear windows. As I walked I felt the need for the bathroom grow ever stronger until I was almost squirming whilst moving, my stomach muscles rigid, my cheeks flushed.
Finally, I could wait no longer and I began to wet myself. It leaked from me in a gushing flow that I could not control, soaking into my nappy in seconds, the warmth of it almost burning my skin. The nappy began to sag as it filled and soon an overflowing trickle was running down my leg to the grass. I prayed no one would notice, endeavouring to look straight ahead and acting as nonchalant as I could. The relief I felt at letting go was palpable but was soon overshadowed by fear as my nappy sagged so low I felt sure it would slide to the floor at any moment.
I sighed with relief as we were at last called back inside and allowed freedom to play in our dormitory until bedtime. I was just following the other women upstairs when I heard Lord Hawthorne call me back. Reluctantly I turned and walked back to her, stopping before her in the hall.
“How is the nappy?” he asked, reaching under my frock and feeling it with his hand. “Oh dear, I think you may need changing,” he said. “You really are incapable of controlling yourself aren’t you?”
He bid me to follow him along the corridor and then we entered the changing room once more. “Lie down,” he said, turning from me and collecting a fresh nappy from the nearest bag. He brought out a thin cloth from his pocket along with a small tin, setting them down on the floor as I lay on my back before him, the dummy still clamped between my lips.
“You must learn to do better,” he said as he lifted my dress and slowly untied my nappy, pulling it loose and setting it down behind him, “My, that was a full one.”
His voice trailed away as he looked down between my legs, becoming transfixed by the sight before him. At last he shook his head as if emerging from a daze. “I will just clean and soothe you,” he said, unscrewing the tin and reaching into it, drawing out a scoop of white liquid. He picked up the cloth with his other hand and began sliding it over my thighs, bidding me to lift my knees so he could reach my posterior. As the cloth slid over my soft skin, I shuddered.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
I shook my head. A feeling of intense warmth was spreading through me as the cloth continue between the folds of my flesh, running over a nub of me which was the source of the heat I felt. When he put the cloth away I felt somehow disappointed but his other hand began immediately applying the cream and I had to stifle a cry of joy, the coolness of it on my burning loins spreading a delicious sensation through me.
“You are quite the most beautiful student I have ever had here,” he said quietly to himself as his fingers ran down to my bottom and then back up again. “Absolutely exquisite. And what is this?”
He spread my lips apart and looked intently between my legs. “You are becoming wet,” he said as if in disbelief. “You are far more mature than I gave you credit for.”
He held my lips open with one hand and the other one began to softly stroke up and down the length of me, the moisture on his fingers mingling with the cream and running over every inch of my core. He seemed lost in his thoughts as he stroked up and down, soon focussing on my hardened nub which responded to his movements by tingling with delight. “I do not think I can resist you,” he sighed. “You are just too beautiful.”
He reached up and pulled the dummy from my mouth, tossing it aside. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Quite well my Lord,” I replied. “I am trying my best to be good for you.”
“I know you are,” he said, again stroking the nub of me. “I know you are.” His fingers slid downwards and then I felt the tip of a digit slide inside me. I let out a gasp of pleasure as he pushed deeper into me, the wetness that had formed helping to lubricate his passage. Once he was all the way in me, he paused before sliding free. “I must resist,” he said, shaking his head. “It would not do to take advantage of a student.”
“I do not mind my Lord,” I whispered, my hips pushing against his finger as an ache of desire spread through me. “I do not mind at all.”
“I must have you,” he said suddenly, sliding his finger from me and fumbling with his trousers. “Do not move.”
I looked at his hips as he got his flies undone and reached inside. He pulled out the most immensely rigid member, moving up me to sit on my chest, pushing it towards my mouth. I knew not what to do but he did not seem to mind, pushing the bulbous purple head to my lips. It felt hot and firm but yielding also as it slid in over my tongue. A second later he began to thrust as my nostrils flared, the scent of his manhood making my body throb with ardour. I fought for air as he rocked back and forth in my mouth for a minute before moving back down me, lowering himself onto me until I was crushed under him. “I cannot resist you,” he said, reaching down and sliding his member over my wetness. “There is something about you,” he muttered. “You do something to me I have never felt before.” As
he spoke, he pushed his hips down and forwards, the tip of him entering me. I let out moan as it stretched my entrance.
“Oh my Lord,” I cried as he eased himself deeper into me.
“My Annabelle,” he replied, moving his face to mine and kissing me for the very first time. As his lips pressed against mine he began to rock inside me, his pelvis rubbing on my nub, the ache deep inside me fading, replaced with a wonderful sense of fullness. I pressed my hips to his, my hands going around his back, holding him within me as he thrust faster into me. My body was heating up so much I felt on fire with lust, my hands clawing down his back as he moved quicker into me, his member pulsing within me.
“What is this feeling?” I gasped as my muscles began to tense up deep across my body.
“Let it take you,” he replied, kissing me again. “It will be worth it I promise.”
I thrust against him, feeling his body against mine, his member gliding back and forth in me over and over. The sensations built further until my entire being was rigid and just as I lost the ability to breathe, I felt a release of pure joy, spreading from my core through my body, my mouth falling open, my limbs quivering. He seemed to delight in the sight of me losing control, his hips thrusting faster whilst I panted for breath.
“Oh my Lord,” I cried. “Do not ever stop.”
“I cannot stop,” he replied, kissing me again and then groaning as his member twitched deep within me, buried as far inside me as he could manage. A moment later I felt something spurt from the end of him, a warm liquid gushing into me as he twitched again, his tongue plunging into my mouth. I held his hips against me as another wave of blissful pleasure washed over me.
He slumped against me as the sensation faded, his member sliding free at last. My body tingled with joy as he pushed his organ back into his trousers, tying my nappy in place as if nothing had happened. He pulled my dress back down before helping me to my feet.
“You may join the others in the dormitory,” he said as he opened the door of the changing room. “I will check on you in the morning.”
I left him standing there, making my way towards the noise of talking coming from upstairs. My legs shook as I walked, my mind racing. I could still feel where he had been inside me but it was already becoming dreamlike, as if I had merely imagined what had just happened.
I reached the dormitory a moment later and sat quietly on the nearest bed, my hands trembling. “Are you all right?” Abigail asked, coming to sit behind me. “You look quite flushed. Was he cruel to you? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I replied with a faint smile. “He did not hurt me.”
She frowned before returning to the others, leaving me lost in my thoughts. I had been here less than a day and in that time I had undergone such a range of emotions I felt utterly exhausted. I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, all thoughts of escaping here gone from my mind. In their place was a single goal, that of kissing Lord Hawthorne again. Nothing else mattered to me anymore. All I desired was to feel him slide into me again. I sighed and let my eyes close, reliving the time in the dressing room over and over again, the noise of the others talking fading away as I became lost in my thoughts. Thus ended my first day at Coldwater Academy.
The Coldwater Academy Trilogy continues here.
Bonus Story 2
Jade
The Jade Trilogy – Book 1
Jade Wood is homeless and starving on the streets of Victorian York when she encounters the dark and mysterious Sir Walter Richards. Offered a job at his latest business venture, Jade finds her innocence and inexperience count for nothing in this particular role.
Becoming tutor at his elite finishing school, Jade must teach her students the value of submission. But the more time she spends with Sir Richards, she more desires becoming a submissive herself until she is torn between her desire to submit and her role as tutor.
Now she must make a decision. Either maintain her dignity and decorum and leave this life behind or accept who she really is and give in to the flames of her desire.
Chapter 1
I was starving on the day he found me. How I had survived until then is still a mystery to me even now. I had grown up with no parents, a burden upon the parish as I and my fellow workhouse inmates were so often reminded. My years in that esteemed public institution left me thin, weak, and in the very depths of despair but it did teach me one thing. When I left, any concept of hope had been thoroughly eliminated from my soul.
I was apprenticed to a seamstress in the good city of York. Here, I spent the years from thirteen to eighteen working far harder than my mistress for far less money. What little she did pay me was for the most part taken back by her husband to pay for my food and lodging. The very term ‘food and lodging’ was laughable. I was in a garret with three other girls, straw for a mattress, one blanket between us for bedding. We had no fire and on cold nights the ice would freeze on the inside of the window as our hearts froze yet colder within our chests. For sustenance we were provided with the thinnest of soups on good days, and little more than water on the bad.
My apprenticeship began with picking apart ancient dresses bought by the weight, the fabric reused to create outfits affordable to those who lived in the tenements surrounding our combined home and workplace. As the years progressed I was eventually permitted to sew for myself, coming to like it in its own way as occupying my hands and my mind, preventing me from dwelling too long on the misery of my situation. But by the time I turned eighteen I had put the mistress to shame. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday.
For the first time I had produced a simple frock of which I felt no small sense of pride. The stitching was simple but effective and the finished look was something that would not have been out of place on a more respectable citizen than myself or any of my fellow workers. Mrs. Garfield, for that was the name of my mistress, passed by my stool as I held the dress up to the half light of the grime covered window. “What is that?” she asked, whipping it from my hand and examining it more closely. “From where did you steal this frock?”
“I have just finished sewing it mistress,” I replied, trembling as I heard the anger in her voice. She was not supposed to return until that evening. I had a horrible feeling building in the pit of my stomach as she scowled at me.
“You are a liar Jade Wood,” she snapped, throwing the frock onto the splintery floorboards at my feet, the motion sending stray threads and dust blowing into the air. “No slattern of mine could make such a thing. Where did that gold thread come from? Answer me girl.”
Ellie glanced at me from behind Mrs. Garfield. She had found the thread amongst the rags bought from a pawnbroker’s the day before, hiding it upon her person and passing it to me the previous night.
“You’re the best amongst us all,” she’d said to me as she handed me it. “You make such beautiful things. You use it.”
“I cannot take such a thing from you. Sell it and keep the proceeds,” I had replied.
“Nonsense,” was her response to the suggestion. “Make a good enough dress for the wife of a noble gentleman.”
“Keep it hidden until you find your noble gentleman and wear it for him,” Alexandra had added from her corner of the rag pile.
I had let them give me the thread in the end, using it whilst Mrs. Garfield was out drinking, making the dress as quickly as I was able. Mrs. Garfield looked at us girls, attempting to intimidate us into confessing our crime. “Where did this thread come from?” she asked again and again. “Someone tell me this instant!”
Ellie was about to open her mouth when I looked at her and shook my head. “I stole it,” I said. “I found it in the rag pile and kept it for myself.”
Mrs. Garfield turned and landed a blow on my head, making me wince at the force she employed, my ears ringing loudly. “I do not employ thieves. Get out of my house this instant.”
I did not even have time to say goodbye to my fellow workers before being dragged across to the doorway and to
ssed out into the street. The dress would never be worn by me, that much I knew, nor any like it. I knew no one to whom I could turn and I spent that day as I spent so many afterwards begging for work, for food, for a roof over my head. The world turned its back on me, ignorant of my hunger, my cold, my want.
I somehow survived three months stealing what food I could. Where Mrs. Garfield had apprenticed an honest workhouse girl, she had created a criminal as well as if I had been apprenticed as such by Spring Heeled Jack himself. The city slowly grew wise to my tricks though and I found food harder and harder to come by. On the day he found me I had eaten nothing but two stray cabbage leaves which had fallen from a market stall at the end of the morning. For that banquet, I had been chased by a peeler from the marketplace to the back of the Minster and beyond. It was only when I reached the alleys of the warehouses by the river that he gave up, leaving me panting for breath and sobbing with relief that I still maintained my freedom. What freedom was it though to starve in the streets in this way?
I was slumped upon a stone step, wondering if I should just throw myself in the river and be done with it, when the door across the alleyway opened and out stepped a gentleman the like of which I had never seen before. He was in an immaculate blue velvet jacket, a stove pipe hat so tall he had to duck under the lintel to egress the building. From his lips a pipe protruded, cherry scented smoke reaching my nostrils and in my hunger, that was enough to make my stomach grumble all the louder. “I need the place secured until I have signed the papers,” he was saying to a man who had followed him outside. “I would not put it past you to strip the fixtures in the meantime.”
The other fellow was shorter, grubbier, his hat bent in the middle, his clothes splattered with grease. “There is currently no lock I am afraid,” he said to the gentleman. “Once the lease is signed, I will of course secure the building until you are ready to begin.”