by Cerise Noble
When she was shivering, her body limp across the bed, Jessica reached for her face, caressing. Jacqueline turned her head, kissing her mistress's hand, and my heart melted. I slid down her body, my teeth leaving marks all along her softness. Spreading her thighs, I bit and nibbled until she was flexing her muscles, her hips gyrating with desire. I bit hard on her inner thigh then, gratified by her gasping moan. Releasing her flesh, I bit her other thigh and licked as I let it go.
Her nether lips were thick and swollen, glistening with arousal. I bit them, laughing through my teeth as her moans increased in desperation. Slipping my tongue along her slit, I found the thick button of flesh where her arousal centered. Sucking in into my mouth, I held her hips down and used just the tip of my tongue to torment her until she shuddered and came. I laughed as I released her and sat up. It embarrassed her that I could wring an orgasm out of her body so quickly, and, sure enough, her blushing face was hidden against her mistress's hands.
I petted her. "Silly slave. You know I've lain with far more than you."
Jessica shushed me. "Of course she knows. And she knows I'm always pleased to see her pleasure." She stroked curls out of Jacqueline's face, and she started to calm. When Jacqueline was settled against her mistress again, content, Jessica turned to me. "I would like to watch your pleasure, also."
I shrugged, awkward. "You know what I need."
She nodded, solemn, then patted the space of bed beside her. "Come here."
I went, and for a long time we rested together. Shortly we'd have to help her up, help her walk and relieve herself, let her stand by the window and smell the river on the wind. But for now, she wanted our cuddles, so we gave them gladly.
Roy came upstairs later, and that was when I realized what she had in mind. "Master?"
He'd paused, hollow-eyed. "Yes, love?"
"It's been quite a while since Stephanie felt the tawse." He shrugged, not picking up on her oblique request. It didn't deter her. "I'd like to see her spanked."
I shivered at the thought of that heavy leather on my skin. Roy frowned at her.
"Stephanie's actually been well behaved lately. I don't think she needs it."
I rolled my eyes at Jessica, and she giggled, knowing exactly what I was about to do for her pleasure. I turned to Roy and sat up.
"Is that so? I happen to agree. You've been such a good boy lately. So gentle and kind to bratty little slave girls who don't hold their tongues."
He glared at me, his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you trying to get yourself in trouble, brat?"
I got up from the bed and wiggled against him. "Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't want to get in trouble with you. You'd punish me, and it would hurt oh so much. But I don't need to worry about it. You being such a weak master and all."
That did it.
He caught me by the back of my neck and gave me a shake. He looked at Jessica and asked her, in a long-suffering voice.
"Is there a reason you keep this brat around?"
For a moment, I was at a loss. Why did she stand for my wretchedness? But then she answered him, her voice tinkling like it always had.
"She's my whipping girl. She takes all the spankings you can't give me right now."
It was somewhat true. Jessica had always managed to earn more than her fair share of spankings, and now that she couldn't be spanked—
Roy looked at me. "One of these days, you're going to regret baiting me."
I shrugged, already hot and damp at the thought of his hand smacking my ass. He reached for the tawse, and my belly clenched with remembered pain.
Jessica directed Jacqueline to lie parallel to her, so when Roy turned to push me over the bed, she pointed to the small of Jacqueline's back.
"Lie here."
I obeyed, crawling onto the bed and placing my hips perpendicular to Jacqueline's, her body lifting my ass higher into the air.
Jessica giggled and clapped. "I've always wanted to try that."
Jacqueline grunted, and I wiggled, finding a stable position. I lay on my hands on the bed, turning to look at Jessica.
Roy sat sideways on the bed, his right knee near Jacqueline's face, his right hand resting on the small of my back. "Don't move, brat."
I smiled at Jessica. He raised the tawse and snapped it down. I jerked and shuddered. Memory was nothing to the searing pain that sliced across my buttocks. He snapped it down again, lower, striking the crease between buttock and thigh, and I moaned.
Jessica played with my hair, pulling webs of black strands across my face. Roy snapped the tawse down on my thighs, and I yelped. The burning made me drum my shins on the bed in an effort to stay still. He snapped it on my left thigh, and the tip caught Jacqueline's buttock. She squealed in alarm, and Jessica giggled. I panted, then groaned when the tawse snapped down on my right thigh. I knotted my fists in the blanket and cried out as it snapped down across the top of my crack. I could still feel the throbbing of each tongue, the welts swelling with each strike.
Somewhere in there, I lost track of the number, and merely hung on, digging my knees into the mattress, biting my knuckles through the blanket, squealing and crying with each tremendous spank. Each strike fell like a bomb on my flesh.
I could feel Jacqueline shifting under me, afraid the tip would catch her again, and it was satisfying in a way that just watching her spanked wouldn't be. But there was no time to dwell on it. Roy's arm rose and fell, drawing thick lines of crimson across my flesh, turning my core molten. I sank down, gradually relaxing into that place where pain becomes pleasure, and then he stopped, his fingers in my hair as he jerked my head up.
"Is this what you need?"
I tried to nod, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth. "Yes. Sir."
He released my hair and shifted, kneeling between my widespread thighs. When did I part them? I shifted forward, raising up on my knees and arching my back in offering. His cock slid in so very easily, and I moaned, far beyond speech.
"Who do you belong to, Stephanie?"
"Y-you."
"And?"
"T-to-tobin."
"Good girl."
Satisfied with my answers, he fucked me into a delirious oblivion. Every thrust rocked me forward on my knees, my mouth open for wordless cries.
When I could make sense of the world again, Jessica was petting me, her head lying close, her eyes on mine. They were damp, but she blinked the tears away.
"Oh, Stephanie. I'm going to miss you, love."
I twined my fingers with hers, letting my own tears flow unabated. "I'll miss you, Jessica."
Chapter Twelve
It was a few weeks later that she died. Jacqueline and I had taken to sleeping with her, waking at night to listen to her breathing, afraid that it would be gone.
One morning, it was. I felt it, knew it, before my conscious mind could confirm it. No heartbeat. No breath. No tiny sleeping movement. I lay my head back down and just looked, knowing it was the last time. But it wasn't the same. She wasn't there anymore. The frail husk on the bed looked nothing like my beloved, my angel, my Jessica. And so I recoiled, standing out of bed and beginning to cry.
My noise woke Jacqueline, and she pressed her face into Jessica's still arm, her own sobs an echo of my own. It was then I realized Roy was no longer in the room, not in bed with us, nor in the chair he often sat in beside her bed. And somehow I knew that he'd been there, seen or felt her last breath, had watched her spirit fly away. And it was right to me that her master was the one who had.
I found him on the beach, the rocky one where we'd landed. His head on his knees, he stared at nothing. I came nearby and knelt beside him, hoping that the rushing water of the river would carry away the ache in my soul.
It didn't. I longed for blood. For pain. For something to stop the endless sorrow as it rose up, a leviathan inside me.
It was a long time later that Tobin found us. He gathered me up, holding me close, reminding me of his love, his own sorrow. I watched through blurred vision a
s Gerard lifted Roy to his feet, also, leading him back to the house like a man undead. We followed. There was space set aside in the dining room, Roy's chair moved down for him to sit in. Jacqueline and I knelt beside him, our fingers touching sometimes in shared sorrow. Jacqueline's tears left a trail of dampness on his pants, but he didn't care nor acknowledge her. I fidgeted, the feeling in my chest ready to break out at any moment, my body too fragile to contain it.
The whole village came. Or maybe it didn't. I couldn't tell anymore. But many people did, bringing condolences, memories, reminders or trinkets of well wishing.
It all meant less than nothing. I couldn't meet anyone's eyes, so I kept mine on the floor or on Roy, sometimes searching out Tobin for reassurance. He brushed my hair with his fingers every time he passed, and I admired his fortitude, that he was not broken by this loss that had destroyed my world. And yet, there he was, bringing food, making sure Roy ate, at least a little, directing people to move on when they wanted to linger, to step up if they were uncertain. There was such an endless line of people.
I don't remember sleeping, but I must have, because I woke. Tobin and Gerard and Roy carried her body down to the stone bier. Roy lit the fire. It burned, and I wondered if the words people said about the gods and the elements were comforting to Jacqueline. I spent a long time watching the smoke play against the clouds.
When it was over, they poured water on the place where her body had been, and washed it down to the river, part of the earth and sea and sky again.
Roy retreated to the willow tree, and we went with him. For a very, very long time he was silent. Jillian came for a short time, her husband rocking her child and petting her hair. She couldn't stay long, couldn't be still in the oppressive silence.
I must have slept again.
For a long time—only a week?—there was nothing much. River and sky and wind. Food sometimes, sleep sometimes, and the cold comfort of each other, we who'd known her best. I cried often.
Eventually, Roy started spending more time inside. One morning he sat, slumped in his chair, no longer caring who saw his defeat. It frustrated me, knowing that he had to be strong, that he had to be much more than this if he was to keep Jessica's dream alive. I wanted to shake him, to hit him, to rattle him, to force him to deal with something other than his own all-consuming grief.
I found myself watching Tobin with the same restless wariness, wondering if he would wind himself up too tightly, like he had when Simon died, if he would be able to mourn.
Nanette approached. "My lord?" I looked at her, and she edged away from me. "My lord, is there anything I can get you?"
I made my decision, and stood up.
Tobin noticed. "Stephanie."
I ignored him, and then slapped her hard. She fell to the side, sprawling, and I snarled at her. "No! There's nothing at all you can get for him. Nothing at all you can get for any of us. You didn't know her. You didn't care. You're nothing. You're just a worthless, miserable bit of slave that was good for nothing more than warming Jeffery's bed for a few nights. I bet he's forgotten all about you with the whores in the village!"
I wondered if she would ever forgive me.
Tobin grabbed for my arms, but I wasn't about to make it easy. I would break them out of the grip of their grief if it killed me.
And they might. Or if they didn't, surely Jeffery would.
Roy's voice was like thunder, and much as it cut my heart open, I was so profoundly grateful to hear the strength in it, to know that he had not been broken by the loss of his love.
"How dare you speak to her that way? Nanette has been nothing but kind and well behaved. Unlike some little bitches I know."
He stood up, and I felt the fear drop through my guts like a stone. Maybe I'd pushed too hard too soon or too fast. Maybe he would damage me now.
Begging spilled from my mouth. "Please. My lord. Please. Have mercy."
He ignored me, turning instead to Nanette and helping her up. I saw that I'd cut her, and immediately knew I was doomed.
"Nanette, go to the kitchen and let Lauren have a look at that." She whimpered, and he kissed the top of her blonde head, hugging her gently. "You're a good girl. It's not your fault you didn't know Jessica better. You've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to this House."
She nodded, teary-eyed, and he turned her towards the kitchen, shoved her just enough to make a point.
Angry, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me out of Tobin's grip, releasing it so that I fell to my knees. The fear welled up, consuming me, but not so much that I forgot I'd harmed the woman. I glanced back, hoping the cut was small and would heal quickly.
Not everyone has the same relationship with pain that I do.
I looked up at my owner. "Please!"
His voice was a thunderclap. "Go!"
There was nothing left but to try to be as obedient as possible while I suffered through whatever punishment they meted out. I scrambled forward, towards the dungeon.
I got there before them, and for one long moment I lost my sanity and contemplated locking the dungeon door. That was a foolish thought, and it ended as quickly as it came when Roy stormed in after me.
"On the cross."
I didn't hesitate, but scurried to the X shaped frame Tobin had built, let them lock cuffs around my wrists and ankles to hold me against the smooth wood. I felt the wide belt wrap around my middle, anchoring me to the frame, higher than my waist to cover and protect my kidneys. That's when I knew how angry he was.
I never prayed, but in that moment, I wished there was a god I could ask for protection. Tobin wrapped a hand in my hair and bound it up, away from my shoulders. Roy picked up a leather whip, a dragon tongue style, not a thin, braided thing, but a long, rolled leather triangle in a handle that bit a slightly bigger area so it would be less likely to cut me.
Small consolation.
He struck, and the crack echoed in the room. I screamed. Unbelievable, throbbing fire bloomed across my shoulders. He struck from the other direction, and again I screamed. There was no end. The roaring in my ears fought with the echoes of each crack. My back came alive with silent screams, each lick of fire sustained without fading.
There was nothing like it, nothing at all. Each hit brought a host of sensations. The thud of the impact. The sting of the leather. The cracking bite of the tip. The welling ache. The explosion of heat and pain. The raging fire of each dark welt.
Gradually, the strikes came lower and lower, alternating directions but never missing, no matter how much I struggled in the bonds. Skipping over the belt, the whip slashed across my lower back and I burst into sobbing tears.
Lower and lower, until it was layering welts across my ass. Here he lingered, knowing, oh so intimately, just how much pain I could take. The tail wrapped around a buttock sometimes, dragging my cheeks apart and snapping against my crack. I screamed until I was hoarse, no longer rational or able to think. I struggled, my muscles straining against Tobin's craftsmanship.
I thought I'd lost my voice until he reached my thighs. I found it again as each explosion of pain raised patches of swollen flesh along my inner thighs, the pointed tip pulling blood to the surface.
By the time he'd whipped the back of my calves, I was listing in my bonds, not completely conscious of anything but Tobin's hands on my face, his whispered reassurances.
There was a respite for a short time, and then Roy's hands were on my face, in my hair as he pressed his lips to my forehead.
Tobin was behind me. And then the whipping started again. This time the strikes were angled—high on the outside, low on the inside, forming great Xs of welts on top of the horizontal ones that Roy had left.
It took fewer of these strikes to cover my body from my shoulders to my calves, though, of course, he lingered over my ass, just as Roy had. But that was small comfort, given that each strike crossed a half a dozen other welts and lit them on fire.
I found myself released, and I stumbled, falling to my knee
s before my men. The pain had both fogged and cleared my head. I was content. My suffering had lanced the poison in my men's' hearts, drawing out the blackness just as receiving pain had drawn out the blackness in my own heart, time and time again.
They wrapped me in a soft blanket and spent a long time, sitting on the floor side by side, with me draped over their thighs. Their voices were unheeded murmurs, lulling me to sleep, comforting with their gentle touches.
I woke some time later, but they didn't notice at first.
Tobin's voice. "Do you remember? When she took the boat out to the second station by herself?"
Roy's laughter. "She wasn't by herself. She was with Jacqueline, remember? Or at least, that's what she told me, in an effort to get out of her spanking."
"Oh, yes. Poor Jacqueline, terrified of crocodiles, terrified of displeasing you, but mostly, terrified that her mistress would end up crocodile bait if she were truly alone."
Laughter. "And when I turned Jacqueline over my knee afterward, how she told me I ought to thank her for it."
"Remember the time she stayed up all night with the herbwitch, trying to perfect the tea for her birthing day?"
"Yes, how could I forget? She wanted something tinted blue, of all things. And her hands were so stained afterward."
"But she figured it out, didn't she?"
Their hands were idly stroking me, reliving their favorite memories of my lady.
"Blueberry lemongrass tea. I never did see why she liked it."
A snort. "Couldn't ever see what she liked in so many things."