by Evans, Trent
Sandra glanced at Miriam. “May I?”
“By all means; it’s what she’s here for,” Miriam said, smiling at her friend.
Sandra ran a finger along the line of the girl’s biceps, tracing the smooth flesh to the underarm. She rubbed a few of the dark curls there between her fingers, looking at Miriam with a raised eyebrow.
The Lady laughed softly, coming over to stand next to her friend again. “The peasant girls are all au naturel. I usually shear them when they come to my house to serve, but this one has such enchanting curls that I decided to keep them along with that thick thatch between her thighs. Their men are apparently quite taken by this natural growth. I’m starting to see the wisdom in their preferences.”
“Oh I agree,” Sandra murmured. Though she was at first shocked at the curls, she could see the attraction. In a way, they made the girl seem more vulnerable, less in control of her own body. More of an animal. Enchanting indeed.
Sandra tickled a fingertip through the hollows of Sophie’s collarbones, then ran a bejeweled finger through the girl’s cleavage, tasting the sweat from between the heavy breasts. Miriam brought over a stool padded in black leather for Sandra to sit upon, so that she might be more comfortable in her examination of the nude captive.
Sandra cupped a breast gently, lifting its heavy weight in her palm, while with her other hand she worried the nipple between finger and thumb until it stood at rigid attention.
“Such breasts,” Sandra said. She grasped the nipple hard between thumb and index finger and pulled upward, exposing the tender white underside of the globe. Sophie hissed softly, then flinched as Sandra lay the cool back of her hand against the warm, humid flesh under the breast.
“Be still, Sophie,” Miriam said. “She hasn’t even hurt you yet.”
“How did you find such a big-titted girl possessed of such hindquarters, Miriam? Surely a rare find.” Sandra pinched both nipples between thumbs and fingers and gently bounced the round globes together, delighting in their soft, vulnerable weight.
Sandra wanted nothing more than to set upon the girl and use her as she saw fit, but she knew Miriam would jealously guard such a specimen. Her only option was to take whatever liberties Miriam decided to allow her this evening with the luscious captive. Perhaps when Miriam finally bored of the girl, she’d remember Sandra’s interest.
Miriam brought over her own stool to sit next to her friend, apparently warming to the little impromptu examination. “The Captain found her for me, actually. He spoke of her glowingly at dinner one night, foolishly hoping that I might intercede with her father and allow the Captain some access to the girl’s charms.”
Sandra squeezed Sophie’s breasts tightly, the flesh white beneath her fingers, causing the girl to whimper.
Miriam slapped the girl‘s thigh. “Get those arms back, girl, and higher. Don’t slouch. Let the Countess get a good look at you.”
“I quickly steered the Captain straight,” Miriam said, returning to the conversation. “We all know how lust can cloud men’s minds.”
“Aye, that we do,” Sandra said. Her husband was amenable to most anything right before and right after ejaculating. She thought with a smile of the time he had granted her use of his jealously guarded, prized pony one night as her husband’s thick penis pistoned up and down within the tight clutch of Sandra’s breasts.
“So, remembering the Captain’s tale,” Miriam continued. “I rode out to the farmstead myself to have a look at her. Her father wasn’t particularly cooperative, but I convinced him to come around to my way of thinking. I actually had her strip bare right there so that I could have a decent look at her flesh. I don’t think little Sophie here woke up that morning expecting to find herself stark naked in her family’s barn, with a Lady inspecting her wares!”
Both women laughed. A tear blossomed and ran down Sophie’s blushing cheek. Miriam collected the teardrop on a finger and brought it to her tongue, tasting the girl’s unhappiness. The Lady beamed.
“With tits like these you’d think she was a candidate for wet nurse,” Sandra said, making the unfortunate Sophie wince as the tender flesh of her areola was nipped between the Countess’s fingernails.
“Such a coincidence, Sandra!” Miriam tilted her head. “I have been corresponding with Farrier’s man Lucien about that very thing. Says he has a technique for inducing lactation without requiring the girl to become pregnant. Even though I think seeing Sophie here with a swollen belly wouldn’t be an unwelcome spectacle either, I’m intrigued by his idea.”
Miriam’s hands caressed the generous flesh of the captive girl’s thighs.
“Oh Mistress, please”, Sophie said, her quiet voice trembling. Miriam lay a long finger across the girl’s soft lips.
“Now Sophie,” Miriam said, bringing her face close to the girl. “You’ve already earned yourself a correction for your shameful attempt to cover yourself earlier. I’m in a generous, forgiving mood, but don’t try me with any more of your outbursts, or you’ll be the worse for it.”
Sophie’s eyes overflowed with tears, several salty tracks snaking their way down her forlorn, but pretty countenance.
“I detest that man,” Sandra said, peevishly slapping Sophie’s breasts back and forth with the flat of her hand. “How Farrier allows Lucien such free reign I will never understand.”
Sophie whimpered at a particularly sharp blow, watching her own breasts swing to and fro on her chest in time to the Countess’ callous slaps.
Sandra herself had once been threatened with a trip to Lucien after a particularly serious row with her husband. He had been incensed at Sandra for her summary dismissal of his favorite maid, Lyss.
Sandra had been increasingly jealous of the time and attention her husband Dirk paid to the buxom slut. He insisted Lyss parade around the estate in the briefest of uniforms, which did nothing but emphasize the girl’s bounteous charms. Sandra knew he was probably fucking the little minx, but as long as he was discreet about it, she tolerated his little dalliances (after all, she had a few of her own).
Still, it had been the last straw for her when she had watched from her sun room balcony as he put the girl — clad only in stockings — through exercise drills out on the front lawn in the bright morning sunlight.
Several male servants had stopped to observe Lyss huff and puff her plump little behind through several rounds of breast bouncing exercises. Her husband reclined on a lawn chair, his gaze avid, a prodigious erection freely tenting the front of his trousers as he directed the display.
Well, as soon as her husband left for business in Wyndhaven, she’d had the little slut hauled in front of her and dismissed on a charge of idleness. The girl was really nothing of the kind, and unfortunately, was actually quite sweet — a quality that just further inflamed Sandra’s jealousy. Regardless, the girl was sent packing, despite her tears and pleading.
When Sandra’s husband arrived a week later he was enraged, and threatened to add Sandra to that monster Lucien’s next pony intake. It was only after tearful supplications of Sandra’s own and a stiff dose of the cane across her bottom and thighs, did her husband relent and say he would consider not sending her after all.
That night after an arduous few minutes of taking her husband’s thick member deep into her throat did he pronounce her official reprieve from a trip to the next intake. He’d punctuated his decision with a gout of sperm down her throat, Sandra spluttering as she’d tried to swallow the viscous offering.
“Farrier allows him such freedom because he is excellent at what he does,” Miriam said, her eyes sparkling. “If you’ve never seen Lucien at work on his pony girls, then you have never seen how a proper slave is treated. No kid gloves there I can assure you! In fact, that was his proposed trade in exchange for bringing our fair Sophie to milk. He wanted me to put her up for a term.”
“Ah, not so bad a trade I should think,” Sandra said, mesmerized at the languid movement of the soft breasts.
“Maybe not, but
Lucien takes his time with his charges. No matter how delightful it would be to keep Sophie with milk-swollen tits, I couldn’t bear to be deprived of her charms for six months — longer if Lucien decided she needed to repeat the course, which he would be perfectly within his rights to do.“ Miriam laid a hand tenderly against one of Sophie’s tear-streaked cheeks.
“Fortunate for you to have such a merciful Lady, my dear,” Sandra said, gently tweaking one of Sophie’s earlobes. Miriam beamed again, looking upon her charge with warm fondness.
Sandra clucked her tongue in mock concern. “Ah, but look at this belly. Soft, but smooth. Such youthful flesh. She may need to stay away from the sweet cakes when she gets a bit older though, lest that big bottom get even bigger.”
Miriam tutted, pushing her friend’s shoulder in faux protest. “Nonsense Sandra. She is the finest flesh I’ve laid eyes on in years. Any man’s — or woman’s — dream. If she gets a little heavy in the hindquarters in later years, then it will just be her husband’s or Owner’s job to whip her into shape. Such flesh just needs regular exercise — of one kind or another.”
Miriam winked at the Countess. Sophie’s face, burning with shame, dropped toward the floor.
“Besides,” Miriam said, poking a thigh with a long nail. “I like a girl with some softness, some vulnerability. I have my men for the hard angles and tight flesh! I still think Lucien may be on to something though.”
Sophie let a short sob escape before cutting it off.
Sandra spread her hand across the flat expanse of Sophie’s abdomen, a finger delving into the recess of the navel. “Does Lucien frighten you, girl?”
Sophie nodded her head, her eyes still downcast. A tear had gathered in a fat drop at the end of her neat nose. Miriam having moved to sit on the bed next to the girl, darted in to lick it off with a prehensile tongue.
“Mustn’t waste,” Miriam murmured, winking, making Sandra laugh once more.
“Well you should be afraid of him, dear,” Sandra said. “From what I hear he makes your stern Mistress Westwood seem like a playful kitten by comparison. Heed her words well lest she put you up for the next intake.”
Sophie shuddered, but straightened, arms moving back fractionally to an approving coo and caress of a breast from Miriam. The Lady flashed an encouraging grin to the Countess.
Emboldened, Sandra moved her attention back up to those luscious breasts. “Now these are amazing. These just beg for attention, and a taste,” she said, with a glance to a clearly approving Lady.
“Hold them up for your Countess,” Miriam said.
Sophie grasped her breasts in trembling hands, pushing them up in offering. Her face flushed pink, eyes downcast.
“More,” Miriam said. “There’s a good girl.”
Sandra pinched a nipple tight at the base, and ran a wet tongue over the tip, gazing up into the girl’s face. She worried one nipple and then the other between even, white teeth, sucking deep on each teat before letting it go with an audible pop.
The Countess glanced over at Miriam. “Do you have anything … else?”
“I thought you’d get into the swing of things,” Miriam said, laughing. “Let me see.”
The Lady moved to the dresser, a hand stroking Sophie’s hair as she passed.
“Unless she needs to go back into her cage, of course.” Sandra laved a stiff nipple with the flat of her tongue.
“Nonsense,” Miriam said, turning back toward them, a long steel darning needle in her hand. “We have all the time in the world. Cook won’t have supper ready for hours, and my husband is out inspecting the Frontier fortifications again.”
She handed the needle to Sandra. “Try this. Perfect for those impudent nipples.”
The tips of Sophie’s breasts had tightened to stony hardness in fear of what the Countess held in her slim fingers. The captive girl hissed, tense, as the Countess played the sharp tip back and forth over a nipple, a gentle prick here and there to the sensitive flesh.
The Lady Westwood sat on the bed behind Sophie. “Be very still, girl. We wouldn’t want you poked now, would we?” She peered over Sophie’s shoulder, winking at Sandra.
Sandra dragged the point of the needle down the vulnerable flesh of Sophie’s breast. She pinched the nipple in her fingers once more, lifting the heavy globe up by the sensitive tip. The needle was then held vertically from beneath. Sandra lowered the girl’s breast down until its weight rested fully on the needle, its sharp point deeply indenting the skin.
Sophie cried out at the sting.
“Oh hush, girl,” Miriam said. “It’s just a little stick. You’ll have worse than that in a few minutes.”
Sandra worried the girl’s breasts with the sharp instrument for several minutes, even commanding Sophie at one point to push her own nipple against the outstretched tip of the needle. After more threats from her unyielding Lady, Sophie finally complied, the tears streaming anew.
With a deft hand, Sandra managed to avoid puncturing the skin, but when she was finished, the captive’s breasts were crisscrossed with pink lines, the nipples inflamed at the harsh abrasions of the sharp needle. She laid a tender kiss on each tortured tip, then brushed her lips over Sophie’s mouth.
Sandra scooted her stool back. “Spread your legs, girl. I want to see what you’re hiding between those lovely thighs.”
The girl complied, but not fast enough for her demanding mistress. “Get them open, girl. Now.” Miriam’s brow furrowed, her eyes glittering.
“Please, Mistress,” Sophie murmured, her eyes brimming, her face blushing furiously.
“I said now, Sophie!” Miriam slapped the lush inner thigh, making the girl yelp. She spread much wider, a hand print blossoming on the creamy flesh of one of her inner thighs.
“Rather moist down here, I see.” Sandra winked at her friend. “At least part of your fair Sophie doesn’t object too much to her treatment.”
The Countess played her red-painted fingertips over the plump labia, tugging at the curls there. She grasped a hair and yanked at it, making Sophie whimper. It took a second pull before the hair gave way. The Countess twirled it in her fingers, turning it this way and that before her eyes.
“I usually shear the serving girls. Helps with hygiene,” Miriam said, patting the plump lips of Sophie’s sex with her palm. “But she has such fetching curls; I think I may let her keep them after all.”
Miriam’s long fingers pushed the prominent hood back, revealing the deep red clitoris to the candlelight.
“No, she’s not objecting at all,” Sandra murmured, touching the tip of it with a fingernail. Sophie jerked, but stayed in place. “What with this clit you’d think she was bringing herself off at all hours. Look how big and swollen it is, Miriam!”
“Isn’t it delightful?” Miriam flicked the stiff flesh back and forth with a finger and Sophie inhaled sharply. “When I first laid eyes on it, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I shouldn’t be surprised though. Everything else on this girl —except perhaps her brain — is big. Why should her not-so-little button be any different?”
Both women giggled, their mirth lost on the crimson-faced Sophie. A tear gathered and dropped from one brimming eye, trailing down a burning cheek.
“Lucien told me that he has clients in the East, some beyond even the Frontier.”
Sandra’s eyes widened. “You mean —”
Miriam nodded. “Yes, even there. He says some of the clients in the East like to have the hood pruned back, to expose the clit fully.”
Sandra shivered at the warmth that bloomed between her thighs. Such cruelty! What was happening to her? She seemed to be open to deeper and deeper depravity the longer she stayed with her sadistic friend. Miriam looked up into Sophie’s brimming eyes. “How would that strike you, girl?”
“Oh please, please no Mistress,” Sophie whispered, shaking her head.
Miriam lay her finger across Sophie’s lips. “What have we discussed about that word, girl?”
Sophie bur
st into fresh tears. “Not — to use it.”
“Ever,” Miriam said, steel in her voice. “You needn’t worry though. I don’t go in for such barbarity, Sophie. I like this cunt just as it is.”
She worried the tip of the girl’s clit with a sharp fingernail, and Sophie let go a pained grunt.
“Do be quiet, girl! Maybe we should have Sandra take hold of her needle once more?”
“I’ll be good, Mistress. Please.” Sophie’s face was awash in tears.
“I know you’ll try to be,” Miriam said, using a lace kerchief to dab at Sophie’s flooded cheeks. “But if not, we have ways of reminding you to obey, don’t we?”
Sophie nodded, her eyes wide and bright as she bit her lower lip. Her entire body was tense, the fear emanating from her in waves. It made Sandra want to see how well the unfortunate girl’s tongue had been trained.
Soon.
“Do they object to the practice, Miriam?” Sandra tried her best to banish the aroused quaver from her voice. “The women, I mean.”
Miriam chuckled, placing the back of a cool hand against Sophie’s displayed sex. “They don’t usually ask for their opinion, Sandra. It’s no different than the excision of the prepuce from males, really. The males certainly don’t complain about that, so any feminine protest is no doubt ignored. It’s not really for me, though. I like to keep their buds as sensitive as possible — but I can certainly understand the appeal.”
“I’d like to see it sometime,” Sandra said, plucking at the delicate petals of the girl’s inner labia. She pulled at them until she could spread them flat against the swollen outer lips.
“Well, next time we journey to see that scoundrel Farrier, you must accompany us. I believe my husband plans a sojourn there this fall before the snows come.” Miriam stroked her palm along Sophie’s silken inner thigh.
“That would be splendid — as long as I can avoid Lucien.” Sandra dipped a finger into the girl’s sex, then brought her glistening fingertip to her lips, licking the essence away. “Mm, very nice, indeed.”