Hinterlands Book II: The Stables

by Dehaven, Isha

  “NO! Ms. Farstone… I couldn’t! I simply, no it would be improper,” Amelia protested.

  “Show us Ms. Kerrick!” Ms. Farstone demanded, grabbing Mr. Howard’s erection the way one might grab the utter of a cow. He flinched but said nothing. Amelia’s head was racing, and she was breathing hard.

  “Ms. Kerrick…” The large woman held the shaft in her hand and gestured with it to Amelia.

  It was beautiful but Amelia had never kissed a man’s penis before, let alone sucked upon one. Her face flushing the deepest shade of vermillion, she bent over and lightly kissed the engorged flesh. It was warm and still moist from Ms. Farstone’s saliva. Parting her lips ever so slightly she tentatively placed her mouth on the deeply hued head. She felt him stiffen and moan. She ran her lips back and forth curiously and—

  Amelia was suddenly yanked backwards by her shoulders, Mr. Howard’s penis falling away from her hand. Ms. Farstone laughed wickedly as Amelia lay naked in the dirt. “Not so fast Ms. Kerrick! Do you imagine I’m going to let him get off that easy girl? What sort of punishment would that be?” She seemed to ask the others who were gathered there. She cackled even louder.

  Amelia was furious. She had figured out Ms. Farstone’s game. The old woman was trying to awaken her desire, only to demean her as soon as she relented. She had no choice in the matter however, and she silently regained her feet. Still terribly aroused, Amelia felt her eyes fill angrily with tears. She now understood why Mr. Howard had resisted being placed into the wagon so vigorously. He was hoping to avoid this situation.

  She took her place amongst the others who had just witnessed this scene. Each of them now looked terribly flushed and aroused, their breasts and penises swollen and aching. Ms. Farstone stood fully upright, gazing about, wearing a smug, cavalier expression. She adjusted her bodice to keep the large breasts from bounding forth.

  As the reality of what had just occurred began to set in, Amelia’s embarrassment was almost more than she could bear. Standing there in front of the others, her knees felt weak and her head swam. For a moment she thought she might pass into unconsciousness, but she was jolted back to reality by Ms. Farstone’s shrill voice.

  “Now! ...” The woman paused for theatrical effect. She had obviously done this before. “You will each learn to please, and to be pleased in turn. When I desire you to release your pleasure, you will do so at my command and ONLY at my command! That includes you Mr. Howard.” She wiped her lips and looked at the paint upon her fingers haughtily. “You are all my responsibility.”

  At this, Mr. Howard was released, half-exhausted and lacking any fight whatsoever. Amelia, unable to turn her eyes toward him, merely stared at the dirt in front of her miserably.

  The farm hands ushered them through the lighted door and into the large stable building. As they crossed the threshold, the air became noticeably warmer, and regardless of what lay in store for them, they were all relieved to be in-doors and out of the chilly night air. The floor was covered in a thin layer of hay, and the sheer pleasure of stepping onto a softer surface almost caused Amelia to groan out loud. In the dim lantern light the ceiling towered high overhead, a sloping roof that stretched from one side of the building to the other, but the floor-space around them was partitioned into many, many wooden stalls, some of which were simply waist high while others seemed to be entire rooms offering a measure of privacy. A loft of sorts was visible toward the back half of the building, but in the poor lighting it was impossible to see if anyone was up there.

  They gathered in the large entry area, and here the men were separated from the women. There were 12 servants altogether, 7 women and 5 young men, and this number included both Mr. Howard and the nameless dark-haired man who had helped to capture him during the debacle at the wagon. Everyone looked shiftless and exhausted, unable to decide where or on whom they should lay their eyes. In the brief tumult of the sorting, Amelia stole another glance at Mr. Howard. She was surprised to see that he was looking directly at her, and there was gentility in his eyes, and a sparkle of mirth. He was an enchanting, mesmerizing thing, a man much like Lord Dunmoor, frightening similar actually, but Mr. Howard’s face contained a fire that the elder man lacked, a fire that was capable of sensual warmth, or searing heat. It was all but impossible to ignore. His eyes followed her as she and the other women were ushered down the hallway out of sight.

  Ms. Farstone led the way deeper into the stables. They turned a corner passing thick wooden beams that soared upward into the darkness. The women’s shadows danced in the lantern light as they marched along, like some perverse shadow play children might perform, but this was no play and the beauty of the stable was lost on each of them. Along the way there were many stalls to the left and right with waist-high doors that must have once contained livestock. Yet although there was a feint smell of horses wafting on the air, and the occasional nickering here and there in the inky blackness, there was no livestock about that Amelia could see.

  Near the end of the hallway were two locked stalls on both the right and the left. These stalls were entire private cells, large enough to accommodate multiple livestock. There was no way to see inside the stalls save a small barred window in the heavy wooden doors.

  “You have arrived at your new quarters girls.” Ms. Farstone said unlocking the door with a silver key that hung about her neck. This was the first time Amelia had seen this key. It was shocking what that woman could hide in that ample bosom.

  “I trust you’ll find the accommodations quite fitting.” She crowed. The group filed inside to find a hay-strewn space, large enough to accommodate eight people comfortably. It was essentially empty of furnishings, the sole exception being two large bed platforms, raised 8 or 9 inches off the straw floor, and covered in thin mattresses. A single whale-oil lamp hung high up on an iron rung. “Until tomorrow my lovelies, I bid you a good night!” With this Ms. Farstone closed and locked the stable door. The girls were alone at last.

  The room was relatively warm, and at first most of them wandered about remarking on this or that aspect of the décor. The red haired Ms. Jenkins, who had done nothing but whimper incessantly since she had been pulled from her bath, actually perked up. “It’s not so bad girls…really it’s not.” She twittered, almost back to her old gossipy self again. “I expected much worse, but this is quite comfy.” She pushed down on the straw mattress with both hands testing it. “Not so bad right?”

  “Speak for your self Molly.” It was the small pretty girl from the orient. “I didn’t ask to come to this prison, but I’m here now, and I don’t need to listen to your ugly mug.” The girl was shivering.

  “I’m just sayin’ it does no good griping is all. Sorry!”

  “None of us wants to be here!” The curly brown haired girl from the kitchens piped in. And there’s no need talkin’ about it. Besides, you haven’t worked a solid day in your life Molly Jenkins!” This seemed to silence Molly Jenkins to everyone’s relief, and she sat down on a pile of hay in the corner and began to separate her hair.

  Amelia herself sat down and felt lost. She wished to God that Kitt were there to give her some guidance. The temperature in the room continued to drop and pulling her knees tightly against her, she began to shiver. The lantern was dimmed and the large curly brown-haired girl who had scolded Molly earlier, dozed quietly on her side on one of the expansive mattresses. The temperature didn’t seem to bother her, possibly the result of her extremely long hair that curled down and around her back almost like a blanket.

  Deciding that she was freezing, and that she would never sleep in this state, Amelia rose and quietly crept over to lie down next to the girl. She curled her body, tightly against the girl’s back in a spoon like fashion, and the girl seemed to welcome the warmth and contact, giving a long sigh of approval. To Amelia’s relief she herself began to warm considerably lying against the warm body. This idea seemed to catch on and it wasn’t long before Molly Jenkins curled up behind Amelia, squeezing her tightly between the two
of them. The skinny girl clung nakedly to her, holding her and shivering. She pressed her tiny breasts into Amelia’s back, and wrapped her long legs tightly around Amelia’s, intertwining them. The overall effect was quite sensual and when Amelia used her own slender arms to embrace the kitchen girl in front of her, she could feel the girl’s sizable breasts brush lightly against them. It was a thrilling sensation.

  When she had held her sisters tightly on nights such as this, they had always been ensconced in layers of nightclothes. Now the contact of skin upon skin, warm flesh upon warm flesh, and the smell of kitchen pastries that had permeated the girl before her, made her heart beat with a force to which she was wholly unaccustomed. This would be every night as long as they were to stay here. The fall was well upon them and the night air was starting to bite with its little teeth, yet lying like this together, Amelia realized, could generate real warmth, and it dawned on her that not only was this necessary for survival, but that it was also pleasurable. Admittedly, it was terribly immodest, but there had been few times in Amelia’s life when she had felt more heat and comfort, then here, pressed between these two young women. Despite herself, she felt excited and aroused by the contact, jostling to lay even closer. She pushed her face further into mane of hair and felt a different kind of shiver ripple through her body. It was an energy that seemed to pulse between each of the huddled girls, and even though they were all exhausted, the body contact kept many of them awake late into the night.

  The beam of sunlight dove down through the wispy clouds aiming itself directly toward the large wooden stable. It poured its warmth through a minute space between the roof planks, shooting downward to fall directly upon Amelia Kerrick’s naked shoulder, lighting a small circle there with a golden hue. She was wholly unaware of this however, for she slept the way all young girls do, dreaming of better things and the simple pleasures of home. This very moment it was a pot of tea, bubbling over the open flame and the smell of toasty bread baking inside the warm oven coals that preoccupied her wandering mind. After a time, it was her younger sisters chasing her as she tore down Monmouth Street screaming with laughter, the very terror of the Seven Dials. These memories were good ones, bringing forth deep feelings of comfort to Amelia.

  Then her dreams took on a wicked tone, surrendering themselves to a whole host of sensual images. She saw The Duchessa de Montaigne, adorned in a scarlet dress with silk brocade lace, twirling this way and that in a grand ballroom, each and every fine gentleman despairing for a single moment of her attention, a single glance. Her dark hair hung in tresses, wild and untamed, just as Amelia had first seen it. Suddenly the Duchessa was perched in all her glory upon a pedestal, gazing into a small hand mirror. Then again she was standing above Amelia as she scrubbed the floor below her, one foot upon a clothes chest. She had hiked up her skirts and was rolling down her stocking slowly and seductively. Amelia was trying to concentrate on the floor in front of her, using the brush to lather small circles on the stones, but instead found herself looking up again and again at her mistress’s smooth thigh.

  Finally unable to suppress her desire, she dropped her scrubbing brush and began to press her lips to her mistress’s calf, kissing the smooth skin she discovered there and nuzzling it against her cheek. The Duchessa responded in kind, running her fingers through Amelia’s blond hair, encouraging her servant with soothing words, with secret things she reserved only for her most favored darlings. This made Amelia feverish, desperate to please this untouchable girl. She was teasing, enticing Amelia to kiss still higher on her leg, telling her to lick softly behind her knee, to taste the salty sweetness that had gathered there. Amelia went further, covering the forbidden territory above, mapping the surface of the Duchessa’s thigh with her tongue like a mad cartographer, pausing here and there to pout and suck upon the smooth skin. She felt herself grow lost in the swirling skirts, wild with hunger and desire----

  She awoke with a start, lifting her head from the warm skin of the kitchen girl to look around. The girls had all assumed similar positions, wrapped tightly around one other, clumped together in two small groups. Small beams of sunlight filtered down from a ceiling high above, covering their naked skin in a piebald pattern. From the looks of it Amelia was the only one up as of yet. She gazed around the stall in the light of day. It was considerably more cheery, though obviously still a stall. Molly stirred slightly, mouthing a few random words in her half-sleep and hugged Amelia tighter. A few of the others also stirred slightly. She could see them holding each other on the other bed, still deep in slumber. She realized couldn’t rise just yet, as she was still sandwiched tightly between two bodies. Tucking her head back into the forest of curly hair in front of her, she resigned herself to the proposition of waiting for them to awaken. Besides, this was decadently cozy, being embraced like this.

  This feeling didn’t last long. A metallic clanking from the heavy door signaled the arrival of company, and the sound startled the sleeping girls from their slumber causing a momentary panic as they woke up disorientated. Ms. Farstone and a number of the farmhands entered the room. Realizing where they were, the girls attempted to cover themselves the best they could, being naked in the daylight was a whole new immodesty for which they were unprepared.

  “Rise and shine lovelies! It’s a new day!” she called out. They all looked at each other fearfully with no idea what to expect. “My job is to prepare you for your Lord and Mistress, and I will do precisely that. Now everyone, let us do away with the tender formality that developed between us last night. It’s sooooo tedious don’t you think? Let’s instead regard each other as friends.” She sneered directly at Amelia. “Everyone to the bathing rooms!”

  The girls were herded out of the stall one-by-one, still wiping the sleep from their eyes. Some looked quite miserable, not really ready for another day like the previous one, and thinking that even the prospect of unemployment and starvation was preferable to this, yet no one really said anything for fear of drawing attention to themselves.

  After travelling down a set of wooden stairs they emerged, one by one into the bright sunlight of a wide inner cobblestone courtyard. The space was bordered on three sides by the stables forming a horseshoe shape. Most surprisingly, in the center of the courtyard lay a large pool 30 or 40 meters square. On either side of the pool were perched many exquisitely carved, lifelike marble statues depicting Greek gods and goddesses, frozen in various poses, holding baskets, and cavorting in ways Amelia had never seen. The water was brilliant blue, a giant mirror reflecting the sky and clouds passing before it. Unlike every other aspect of the stables this far, this pool welcomed all who stood before it. It was the most incredible thing Amelia had ever beheld, aside from Hinterlands itself.

  The girls had only a moment to reflect on the pool before dozens of attendants dressed solely in loincloths emerged from all sides, grasped their hands and began to lead them silently into the water. Two older women and a young man took Amelia’s arms gently. They said nothing as they led her gingerly down the marble stairs, allowing her to test the water with her feet. A shiver ran through her as she stepped in. A few of the girls were struggling against these attendants, Molly specifically bursting into tears as usual, but after a few moments, the sounds of sighing and even laughter could be heard. The water was warm, possibly heated from some unknown source deep within the ground! They began to splash and play, overwhelmed with the sensations, many of them being in a large body of water for the first time in their lives. Even Molly Jenkins seemed to forget her predicament, cavorting with the kitchen girl like children in the rain. Amelia strode away from her three attendants to explore the pool further, dipping her hands and splashing the water onto her shoulders. For the most part it seemed no deeper than ones knees, with occasional areas of waist high depth. After a few moments, the three mute attendants, once again took her by the arms and led her over to an unoccupied area.

  The young man produced a burlap sack of very fine sand into which the two older women dipped
their hands. Then, dipping them also into the warm water, they placed the sand on Amelia’s shoulders and began to rub gently. Amelia sighed. The feeling was abrasive of course but not uncomfortably so. They moved down her arms, lifting each one slowly and holding them up, rubbing handful after handful of wet sand across her skin, onto her hands and between her fingers, scrubbing the soft flesh until it was pink. Amelia thanked them repeatedly for being so gentle, but they simple ignored these formalities, focusing silently and intently on her body. They seemed determined to make her cleaner than she had ever been, and she felt almost pampered by their efforts. She glanced around to see all of the other girls, similarly engaged with their respective attendants, being scrubbed and sanded clean, some complaining and others rapt in the ecstasy that comes from being washed by another.

  The two women lifted each of Amelia’s legs, one then the other, rubbing the sand thoroughly up and down her calves and thighs, pausing only to douse her in buckets of warm water. While they did so, the young man grasped her small breasts from behind, causing Amelia to start, but he seemed not to notice or care, simply continuing on with his purpose, rubbing the sand in firm circles around each nipple, and under each small globe of flesh. It was pleasurable and arousing, the feeling of so many hands rubbing her flesh so diligently. Finally, just when she didn’t think she could take any more sanding, the young man produced bars of soap-fat, with which the three began to lather her body. She gasped as the women spread her legs, positioning them askance while they lathered her tender sex, thighs and backside. They scrubbed and rinsed her repeatedly, pushing the thick suds into the minute folds and crevices of her body, running fingers and hands over her most sensitive places. Amelia felt completely at their mercy, groaning and going almost limp as she was scrubbed and prodded in the warm pool.

  She had never been cleaned in such a manner in her entire life, washed and rewashed, cleaned and re-cleaned, her blonde hair massaged inch by inch by the attendants. It was unreal. Finally, when they had finished scrubbing and rinsing Amelia, and they led her out once again onto the cool cobblestones.