‘Oh well, Babbles, you must be my maid, for tonight anyway. Into the bedroom with you.’
‘Yes, Lady Lucilla,’ Lalage managed, and stumbled after the Tesserette into the private suite.
‘What has happened to you?’ Lucilla demanded, eyeing Lalage’s legs. ‘Turn around.’
Lalage obeyed, displaying her caned and spanked bottom and her strapped legs. Lucilla gave a cluck of surprise.
‘Quite a collection for one day! The worst since your first, isn’t it?’
Lalage nodded weakly.
‘Well, if you behave, I won’t add to it. You must help with my dress, wash me, dry me, apply cream and powder. Do you think you can do this?’
‘I shall try, Lady Lucilla,’ Lalage promised, ‘but might it not be wiser to take Benedicta or Coralie as maid? I can not stop myself shaking, and am sure to be clumsy.’
‘No,’ Lucilla answered. ‘I want you. Benedicta is dim, and Coralie knows of nothing except the wretched church, and talks mostly in Axioms. Don’t worry, I won’t beat you if you fumble.’
‘Thank you, Lady Lucilla,’ Lalage answered, for once with genuine feeling.
Lucilla had turned, and Lalage began to work on the dress fastening, each a tiny round button covered in the same dark red silk as the dress. The sides came open as Lalage worked, to show the pale, cream-smooth skin of Lucilla’s back, then the still paler cotton of her shift. With the last button open, Lucilla shrugged her arms from the sleeves, letting the dress drop, to leave Lucilla facing the pert cheeks of Lucilla’s bottom where they stuck out below the hem of the shift. A moment later Lucilla had lifted the shift and the bottom was entirely bare. Lucilla kicked off her shoes and walked into the next room, leaving Lalage to tidy up the clothes.
In the small room used for Lucilla’s ablutions, a tub stood at the centre of the floor, with a great ewer on a table beside the window. Lalage quickly poured the water into the tub and took a sponge as Lucilla stepped in.
‘Start at my neck,’ Lucilla ordered, ‘and work down.’
Lucilla lifted her hair, holding it high to expose her neck. Lalage set to work, the cool water running down her arms as she sponged Lucilla’s skin.
‘Beautiful,’ Lucilla sighed after a while, ‘there is nothing so refreshing as being washed in cool water. It has been a long day.’
‘What has happened, Lady Lucilla?’ Lalage asked.
‘Well, Chapel was as dull as ever, if not more so, and afterwards I had to listen to that oily old toad Glauter, making platitudes with his horrible eyes stuck on my cleavage. Do you suppose they stick out so from a lifetime of staring at girls?’
‘Perhaps. More likely he suffers from ocular goitre, which itself is said to be a curse for the sins of envy, lust and gluttony.’
‘You do know some remarkable things, but yes, that sounds like him. Next time, I will enquire after his “goitre”, which should distress him. Anyway, he quite spoilt my enjoyment of the Pillory. Sanchia was whipped again, and she looks so pretty in pain. She piddled herself too, and I didn’t see at all, only her puddle in the mud. Tutelage was history, with Elder Sister Elfreda, who knows everything and understands nothing. And so it went.’
‘At least you were not whipped.’
‘Mind your place, little Babbles.’
‘My apology, Lady Lucilla.’
‘Accepted, your condition considered. Now my bottom.’
Lalage pushed the sponge to the tightly rounded ball of Lucilla’s bottom, wiping the firm little cheeks, then between, as it was pushed out to open them. Gingerly, she parted the little buttocks, to dab the sponge on the brownish anus between.
‘No,’ Lucilla chided, ‘first with your tongue, then with the sponge, to wash off your spittle.’
‘Sorry, Lady Lucilla,’ Lalage answered, and swallowed, her eyes fixed to the tight brown knot she was supposed to lick as she tried to overcome her qualms.
‘Do it!’ Lucilla ordered, her voice suddenly sharp.
Lalage put her head forward, reacting by instinct, and placed her tongue on the little circular muscle of Lucilla’s bottom hole. Her eyes closed as she dabbed at the rubbery flesh, trying to ignore the taste and also the reaction of her own body. Lucilla sighed and pushed her bottom more firmly in Lalage’s face.
‘Well in, Babbles, up the hole.’
Lalage grimaced, but pushed her tongue tip out, to feel the tight anal muscle open as Lucilla relaxed herself. Taking hold of Lucilla’s hips, she pushed her face in between the firm little buttocks, and her tongue yet further up the anus, to clean out the inside. Lucilla sighed, then giggled.
‘You see, it is not so terrible, is it, just a duty, like any other. Enough now.’
As she pulled back, Lalage found herself filled with confusion. Lucilla’s bottom was still just inches in front of her face, and the urge to lick the now clean anus again was strong, the exact opposite of what she had expected to feel, and what she knew she should have felt. Feeling thoroughly guilty, she picked up the sponge and began to wash Lucilla’s legs. The urge to masturbate was as strong as after a beating, and she was wondering if Lucilla would make her flaunt herself, make her lick quim…
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sinful feelings. Lucilla seemed indifferent, standing still as Lalage moved to finish washing her, then stepping from the bath. Lalage took a towel and held it open for Lucilla, who wrapped it around herself and stepped back to the bedroom. Lalage followed with a second towel.
‘Dry me,’ Lucilla ordered, ‘then apply powder as I instruct.’
Lucilla nodded, and began to pat down Lucilla’s body, her feelings growing slowly harder to contain at the touch of firm girlish flesh, the gentle curves of Lucilla’s body, high breasts, neat buttocks, the gentle swell of her belly…
By the time Lucilla was dry, Lalage’s nipples had come to aching erection, while she was wet between her thighs. Lucilla seemed indifferent, casually dropping the towel to climb naked onto her bed, on all fours, to lift her bottom with both quim and anus on blatant display.
‘Powder me,’ she ordered.
Lalage was praying as she took the pot of powder from the dresser. Lucilla’s quim was plainly aroused, wet with juice and with the hole a little open, as was her anus, from the effect of Lalage’s tongue. Dipping the little brush of soft hair into the powder, Lalage applied some to Lucilla’s underside, dabbing at the creases and folds. Lucilla gave a pleased purr, but no more, keeping her bottom well stuck out until Lalage had begun to wonder if she was drying her Mistress or masturbating her.
‘Now cream,’ Lucilla said suddenly. ‘Just my bottom hole. Gently, but you may put your finger a little way in.’
She pushed out her bottom, and reached back, to open her cheeks yet further, stretching the tight pink knot of her anus wide. Lalage took the cream pot, dipped her finger in, and gingerly applied a blob to the little ring. Lucilla sighed in pleasure, then again as Lalage began to rub, in circles, moving slowly to the centre, and poking her finger into the tight hole she had just cleaned with her tongue.
‘Deeper,’ Lucilla sighed, ‘all the way.’
Lalage responded, sliding the full length of her creamy finger up Lucilla’s bottom hole, to probe the hot, slimy flesh of her rectum. Lucilla sighed in response, and began to wiggle her bottom on Lalage’s finger. Again, Lalage wondered if Lucilla expected to be masturbated.
‘Shall I…should I, touch, Lady?’ she asked. ‘Your quim?’
Lucilla’s answer was a moan. Lalage swallowed, hardly knowing what she was doing, except that it had not been ordered of her. Guilt welled up, strong, but not strong enough, as she put her thumb to the glossy bud of Lucilla’s clitoris and a knuckle to the vaginal hole. Lucilla’s squirming grew harder, more urgent, her breathing louder, and deeper. Lalage began to wriggle her finger in Lucilla’s now sloppy bottom, and dab with her thumb. Lucilla gasped, her bottom tightened, her anus and vagina clamped and went loose, clamped again and she was coming, in spasm on Lalage’s
hand, over and over, until at last she slumped forward.
Her sticky fingers pulled from Lucilla’s body, and Lalage stuck them straight in her mouth, her mind swimming with guilt even as she sucked down the taste of Lucilla’s body. She had given in, she knew, her dirty behaviour her own choice, at least in part. The guilt was agonising, and it alone prevented her from burying her face between Lucilla’s bottom cheeks, to once more lick clean the tight little bottom hole she had just fingered, and masturbate as she did it. Lucilla spoke before Lalage’s resolved cracked.
‘Clean me up, slut. A little more powder too, then bed.’
Lalage hastened to obey, fighting down her feelings and mumbling Axioms against the surrender to lust as she once more washed, dried and powdered Lucilla’s quim and bottom crease. Done, she came to stand at the end of Lucilla’s bed.
‘Will there be anything more, Lady Lucilla?’
‘Perhaps. Do you wish to sleep as Mouse sleeps?’
‘How is that? At the bed end? Tied?’
‘No. She comes in with me. If you do, you must be prepared to lick cunt.’
‘If you order it, Lady Lucilla.’
‘No. If you want it, and…and I will lick yours. Do you?’
Lucilla’s voice was soft, almost pleading, as Lalage had never heard it before. She swallowed, further guilt welling up inside her, but warring with a desperate, overwhelming need for the affection Lucilla was offering, and for sex. The guilt lost, and, nodding dumbly, she climbed into bed beside Lucilla. Immediately Lucilla drew her in, cuddling her. Lalage sighed, near to tears for the sheer comfort of being held, something she had been without for so long.
For a long while they lay still together, neither speaking, both listening to the faint sounds from the town far below the window; the calls of the soldiers on watch, sounds of coarse revelry from towards the harbour, a shriek of female laughter. Lalage struggled to hold her feelings down, wanting to be told she must do what she so badly wanted to. Yet Lucilla seemed in no hurry, and before long, almost without thinking, Lalage began to stroke Lucilla’s breast, feeling the soft mound of flesh and the harder nipple as it rose slowly to excitement. Lucilla’s response was to pull Lalage closer, then to kiss her.
Their mouths opened together, in a long, lingering kiss as Lalage’s caresses became firmer, more urgent. They rolled together, still kissing, their arms going around each others’ backs, naked breasts and bellies pressing together, thighs close, then intertwined. Lucilla began to move lower, planting gentle kisses to Lalage’s neck, her chest, her belly, and at last, her quim. Lalage sighed, abandoning herself completely as Lucilla began to lick. A thigh was thrown across her head, and Lucilla’s bottom settled over her face. Lalage simply took hold, stroking Lucilla’s cheeks as she pressed her mouth into the warm, wet quim in front of her. As she began to lick, so did Lucilla, feeding on each other in rising ecstasy.
Lalage’s guilt was gone, her surrender complete as she pushed a finger up into Lucilla’s bottom. Her thumb went into the open, moist vagina, as her own bottom hole was penetrated, all differences of status vanishing as they gloried in each other’s bodies. Soon they were licking and probing in utterly wanton passion, feeding on each other in an erotic frenzy, faces smeared in each other’s juice, each desperate for climax, and to bring the other to the same end. It took moments, and both girls came together, in one long, wonderful moment of passion, both with their mouths full and their fingers deep in sticky, eager holes.
Spent, Lucilla climbed off, and sighed in contentment as she lay back. Lalage rolled onto her front to spare her bruises. For a moment she considered going to wash, only to abandon the idea, sure that before long her fingers or tongue would be back up Lucilla’s bottom, also that the favour would be returned. Instead she contented herself with sucking her fingers, then Lucilla’s as they were put to her mouth. The guilt was coming back, but she fought it down, telling herself that she was simply doing what a Tesserette ordered of her, although she knew it was a lie. Still, it was a relief when Lucilla began to talk.
‘While in the sanitorium I had nightmares, or maybe visions, strange things that came in the heat of my fever; horned faces, laughing…sometimes the whole being, a great man, handsome yet cruel, his skin red, winged and horned both. He would laugh, great bursts of mirth, like nothing I have heard before. He would beckon too, and call to me. I would wake screaming and drenched in sweat, but I never told the sanitorium Sisters what I saw.’
‘Just as well,’ Lalage answered. ‘These are not healthy dreams. This apparition could very well be the Beast himself, seeking to claim you. You would be exorcised, Lucilla…Lady Lucilla, Tesserette or not.’
‘You may call me Lucilla, Lalage, at least as we lie in bed, but do not take liberties in front of others.’
‘I swear it.’
‘As I expect. Yes, I know how the Sisters would react. This is why I held my peace…or largely so. There is another reason. At the time I was terrified, but he was not malign. He made no attempt to hurt me, or force himself onto me, for all the great red penis sprouting from his loins.’
‘This is how the Beast tempts, Lucilla, with forbidden pleasures.’
‘Forbidden why? What is wrong in pleasure? Are we the worse for what we have done. How can it be that the Evil One brings pleasure and the Good only pain and degradation. It makes no sense. Always the nuns inflict pain on us…well, not me, by nature, but you, and others. Look at the way you have been beaten today, and for what?’
‘Penance cleanses the soul.’
‘Oh for goodness sake, Lalage! Don’t talk in Axioms! You are as bad as Butterball Coralie sometimes…She will end up an Elder Sister, I think, even a Mother…Who can say, she might make Prioress. I must beat her more often.’
‘You were saying just now that it was evil to inflict pain.’
‘So you would think, wouldn’t you? I make no claim to be good, Lalage. I am not even going to be a nun, after all. Yet at least when I whip you I confess to the pleasure it gives me. I am not good, no, but I am not a hypocrite either.’
‘There is no hypocrisy in giving justice, even for the unjust.’
‘Babbles! I warned you. One more Axiom and I will spank you with my hairbrush and stick the handle up your bottom, bruises or no bruises. Now be serious. Of course there is hypocrisy! What do you think old Aspasia is doing with Nest? She knows I’ll have taught her well and wants advantage of that. Even now Nest probably has the old crow perched on her face. Cunt licking, a vile pagan act, punishable by all sorts of horrors, yet they do it nightly!’
‘I am sure that Elder Sister…’
‘What, do you think she has Nest’s tongue up her bottom instead then, to avoid sin? You make me laugh, Lalage!’
‘It is not our place to protest,’ Lalage answered. ‘The Lord shall judge.’
‘Is that an Axiom?’
‘No.’
‘It sounds like one, and it’s drivel, like the rest. The Lord may judge after death. In life the Elders judge themselves, and none too harshly, unless a Quaestor is sent.’
‘He would find nothing amiss.’
‘No, he wouldn’t, would he? He would find the nunnery a model for all the virtues. That or they would corrupt him.’
‘No corruption is possible to those who command the seven virtues.’
Lucilla moved suddenly, rolling on top of Lalage to pin her face down on the bed. Lalage squeaked, then a second time as the heavy silver backed hairbrush smacked down on her bruised bottom, and again as Lucilla began to spank her. Soon she was kicking her feet to the blows, in real pain, but giggling too. Lucilla stopped as the door catch clicked. Lalage looked back across her shoulder. Novice Corisande stood in the doorway, black against the dim light coming up from the town.
‘Is all well, Lady Lucilla?’ the Novice asked.
‘I am merely spanking my brat,’ Lucilla answered. ‘You may go.’
The door swung to.
‘Do you suppose she heard, earlier?�
� Lalage whispered.
‘Oh shut, up!’ Lucilla answered, and laid another firm smack onto Lalage’s already smarting bottom.
‘Ow!’ Lalage squeaked. ‘No, please, Lucilla…Lady Lucilla, I am so bruised already.’
‘I only wanted to make you wet again,’ Lucilla answered sulkily.
‘I am still wet,’ Lalage answered.
‘Oh yes, so you are,’ Lucilla stated, slipping her finger down into the slimy crevice of Lalage’s bottom crease. ‘Now what did I say I would do? Oh yes…’
‘No, please!’ Lalage managed, but too late, as the rounded end of the hairbursh handle pressed to her anus, and up into the juicy hole without difficulty.
Lalage moaned as her cavity filled, and again as Lucilla began to bugger her. Lucilla laughed softly.
‘Oh yes, this is the way! How could it be sinful when it is so nice? You are such a slut, Lalage, and such a mess! Get this in your mouth then, while I lick your hole.’
Lalage gaped immediately, to allow the thick hairbrush handle to be fed into her mouth, sucking up the taste of her bottom hole even as Lucilla’s face was buried between her cheeks and a muscular tongue pushed up her anus. Lucilla’s hands found her quim and she was being masturbated, everything now concentrated on her body, their status not just forgotten, but reversed. For a moment Lalage wondered at the eagerness with which the haughty Tesserette was feasting on her bottom hole, and attending to her quim, before a fresh climax began to well up and everything but pleasure was forgotten.
* * *
Lalage awoke to a dull, all inclusive ache. Slowly her mind cleared, and as it did so, the areas of pain differentiated. Most of her muscles were stiff. The marks from her beatings produced a dull, bruising ache over much of her lower body. Some of the worse welts still stung. Her quim, anus and nipples were sore from Lucilla’s attentions.
She lay back, staring up at the beams of the ceiling as the dim grey light slowly brightened and flushed with the pink of dawn. It was hard to take in what she had done, and the surface of her mind crawled with guilt for the state of wanton, filthy ecstasy she had lowered herself to. Yet in all her life she had never known greater pleasure, and her response was to feel affection for Lucilla, love even, the highest of all virtues. Love was allied to forgiveness, to which only the highest in the church could aspire. Love was what the nuns felt when they beat her for her transgressions, punishing her that she might be whole again. Love was what she in turn was supposed to feel for the nuns, yet she did not, only for Lucilla, with whom she had committed a whole series of sins.
Whipping Girl Page 7