Chapter Four

 

Westwood Manor

 

“What’s she done to deserve this, Miriam?” Sandra, her rouged lips pursed, glanced over at her friend.

Miriam strolled over from her great mirror and stood close to her friend, Miriam’s shapely dark-haired form a pleasing visual contrast to the slender fair figure of the Countess.

“Oh, she still has this silly idea that she gets some say as to what, or more to the point, whom she lays with,” the handsome lady said, wagging a long beringed finger up and down dismissively. “She’s being shown the error of her ways.”

“I see. Not content with her station in life is she?”

“Not exactly,” Miriam said, staring down at the subject of the conversation. “She serves passably well, especially at table. But she still can’t get used to the fact that this is a house run by a woman, and that as a servant of the house, she is expected to serve that woman’s needs — all of them.”

“Missing a boy back home or some such?”

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but the girl seems to be averse to women. Sad, but true. Isn’t that right, dove?” Miriam said, raising her voice slightly.

“Ah, not a good attitude to have here at House Westwood, girl,” the Countess said, her voice soft. “You’d be wise to shape up quickly”

“She has this odd notion of only being attracted to men, and says she’s never been with a woman before!”

“How selfish of her! What a bizarre thing for a girl to think, Miriam!”

“Isn’t it though?” Miriam lit a few more candles about the dim room. “It’s as if she thinks it matters that she’s only attracted to men. Servants do just that — they serve. She just needs to come to grips with the fact that a major part of her duties here in my house, indeed the most important duty, is attending me. Until she gets that through her thick skull, I am just going to have to train her in proper behavior at this manor.”

“Well, I can hardly make anything between these bars and the fact that she’s tucked away in this corner, love. Perhaps we might get a better look at her?” The Countess’ clear blue eyes sparkled brighter in the fire-lit bedroom.

“Oh, I suppose we can, Sandra. She’s in there to think, to decide if she’s going to accept the truth of things.” Miriam stooped down, her movement graceful, her hands smoothing the wrinkles out of her deep green silk dress. Her friend, clad only in a sheer white gown, lace décolletage only partially concealing jutting breasts, knelt down as well, face slightly flushed, eyes intent.

“She’s only been in there a half hour. It’d be a shame to spoil the lesson by letting her out too soon,” Miriam said, considering, fingers toying with the golden lock affixed to the hasp.

The ‘she’ in question, was a naked girl, someone Sandra had never seen before. She looked perhaps nineteen or twenty, and was very fair of skin (though the low light betrayed just how fair). The girl was in a small cage ensconced in a corner of the noble’s luxuriously appointed bedroom. The round steel bars of the cage were closely spaced, dull gray in color. She knelt — or to be more accurate — was forced to kneel tightly over, her body practically bent double, the cage being scarcely more than three feet in height. She faced away from the two ladies, so it was impossible to make out much more of her countenance. A thick rope of her dark brown hair was wrapped casually around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage.

“You couldn’t get some more light over here could you, Miriam?” Sandra asked, keen on getting a better view of the girl.

“Oh certainly, Sandra.” Miriam retrieved a large glass-shrouded candelabra and set it on the nightstand next to the forlorn little cage.

The splash of warm yellow light illuminated the pale, broad orbs of the buttocks planted solidly on her heels, the vulnerable soles of her feet visible beneath the lush curves. In the cramped confines of the tiny cage, her posture prostrate, the dusky crack of her bottom yawned open, clearly exposing the wrinkled whorl of the anus, the perineum, and the dark, fur shrouded contours of plump labia below.

Indeed, the cage was such a tight fit that the girl’s ample bottom pressed against the sides and back of the enclosure, flesh slightly bulging into squares within the rigid confinement. The bars crossed the bottom of the cage too, and one could see that they must have galled the smooth planes of the girl’s shins terribly.

Even in this closely crouched position with the girl’s bosom pressed to her thighs, Sandra could see that the captive nude was possessed of full breasts; their soft, pale curves bulged invitingly out to either side, contrasting with the delicate pattern of the girl’s rib cage.

The girl’s arms were bent behind her, reaching up and around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage, the delicate wrists clasped in metal cuffs. Sandra could see that the girl wasn’t entirely naked either, though what she did have on hardly afforded any protection from the gaze of the two noblewomen.

The cuffs were clipped to a fine, silver linked chain stretched taut to a ring embedded in the back of a broad belt. This belt clasped her lower waist, stretching round to pass just above the dimples of her bottom. The black leather was tight, the flesh bulging slightly both above and below, and made the swell of the girl’s voluptuous bottom even more pronounced.

Sandra thought she knew with some fair certainty why this particular girl was subject to the attentions of her friend Lady Westwood. The majestic raven-haired mistress of Westwood Manor was well known among her wide circle of friends for her feverish penchant for well-fleshed lasses, especially those blessed (or cursed) with a big, round bottom. She knew Miriam would make the girl wish she’d never been blessed with such bountiful buttocks.

“Ah, those shoulders must be a trifle uncomfortable by now, Miriam,” the Countess said, turning her head to her friend. “How about having her out for a spot? Just to get a look at what you’re working with”

“She has a lot longer to look forward to in there, but I suppose there won’t be any harm in having her out for a little tea-time stretch,” Miriam said, winking at her friend. “She’ll no doubt be grateful for it.”

The willowy mistress gazed at the prostrate servant a moment longer; a fingernail leisurely drawing a light furrow into the skin of one of the girl’s buttocks. Miriam fished a necklace out of her deep cleavage, from which (much to the delight of the Countess) hung a tiny golden key. She opened the small lock at the hasp, carefully tucking the key back between her breasts.

After unwinding the rope of the girl’s hair from the crossbar, Miriam unclasped the chain from the ring at the back of the girl’s belt, letting the chain slide down to the floor of the cage. She then pulled the girl’s arms straight up behind her. This allowed her to swing the heavy top of the cage up on groaning hinges. As the girl’s hair fell to one side of her back, the dark leather of two straps could be seen emerging from around the front of the girl’s face. The straps diverged, one reaching around the base of the skull along the hairline, the other snaking higher up the back of the skull, submerged in her thick hair.

With a hand clasped firmly to one of the girl’s upper arms, the olive color of her hand clashing with the creamy whiteness of the prisoner’s flesh, Lady Westwood helped the girl straighten. The fingers of Miriam’s other hand lightly played about the crimson tips of the plump breasts as the girl stood, her movement halting, and stepped out of the cage. The Lady used another key to pop open the metal cuffs, hanging them on one of the cage’s bars.

The girl immediately started to whimper and twist, her knees rubbing together, toes wiggling, rubbing the abraded skin of her wrists. Her soulful green eyes were near to overflowing with tears, the lips pulled back in a rictus by a thick black rubber-coated bit clenched between white teeth. A bit of saliva could be seen at the corners of her mouth, as well as at the lowest part of her bottom lip. Straps crossed her cheeks tightly from either end of the bit to wrap around the back of her head.

“Pins and needles, dear,” Miriam said matter-of-factly in response to Sandra’s questioning look. “She’s been in there a bit, as you know,”

The Lady made no attempt to comfort or assist the girl, merely content to observe her discomfort as circulation returned fully to her lower limbs. After a minute or two, when the girl’s wriggling had subsided, Miriam guided her over to the foot of the huge, richly appointed bed, and bade her sit upon the magenta duvet cover.

“Don’t get too comfortable now, Sophie,” Miriam said, standing before the sitting girl, her arms crossed below the swell of her bosom. “Once the Countess has had her look at you, it’s back in your cage. You still have a lot to think about, and you aren’t getting out of your quiet time that easily.”

“Yes, I see why you picked her, Miriam. Very nice, indeed.” Sandra pressed on the girl’s arms clutched protectively around her bosom. The bright pink bands of cuff-abraded skin on her wrists emphasized the pallor of her breasts. The Countess’ fingers moved up to trace the length of the bit, touching the girl’s soft rose lips.

“Might we pop this out too, Miriam? These lips do look enchanting, and I can’t really see them pulled back so.”

“Of course, my dear.” Miriam unclasped the buckles at the back of Sophie’s head. The bit loosened, and fell away trailing dark straps, landing with a wet slap on the girl’s pale thigh. The corners of the unfortunate girl’s mouth were inflamed, almost blood red. The straps left fading furrows crossing both cheeks. Both women watched a moment as Sophie worked her mouth and lips to try and return some sensation to the numbed flesh. The bit had apparently been just as galling as it looked.

“Hands up, now. No, behind your head. You know better than to cover up,” Miriam said, her dark brows furrowed momentarily. The nude laced her fingers behind her head, widening her elbows at a barked command from the Lady.

The girl was well built, even tending toward powerful. Strong shoulders contrasted against the slender muscles of her arms. The breasts were full, hanging heavily on her chest. The nearly smooth areolas were wide and brown, accented with prominent, dark nipples. The belly was soft, but smooth, the inky depth of her navel a pleasing counterpoint to the pale planes of her abdomen. There was the slightest curve to her belly down to the rather prominent curls adorning the pubis. Her hips flared wide from the narrow waist, and she looked as if she might have to watch her weight when she was further along in years. But now in the prime of her youth, her hips merely advertised her luscious femininity.

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 burst 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.”

“Fine isn’t it? She’s still a virgin, but her cunt slickens like a common whore’s. Remarkable, really.” Miriam turned to Sandra. “What’s your objection to Lucien?”

Sandra didn’t want to tell Miriam about her close encounter with the pony intake. Strangely, a part of her feared it might give her friend ideas. “I just find him an overbearing boor. Regards women as mere livestock. Feels as if he’s assessing your auction value, even as he’s speaking with you. Beastly man.”

Miriam smiled, a slim eyebrow raised. “I find him fascinating. So commanding, so stern. Seeing him put those girls through their paces is like nothing else in this world.”

Sandra didn’t miss the far off look in Miriam’s eyes, even as she continued her molesting of the captive girl. Shaking her head, Miriam stood and sat next to Sophie on the bed once more, her fine dress stretched between spread knees. She tweaked one of Sophie’s turgid brown nipples. “On the floor, girl.”

Sandra pushed her own stool back and stood, as the naked girl dropped to her knees, facing her Mistress, hands still clasped behind her head. She marveled at how well Miriam seemed to have trained the frightened girl.

Miriam gazed down at Sophie. “Now then, it’s time for a little relief. My bedroom smells like your cunt, girl. It’s time you took care of mine.”

The Lady eased the hem of her dress up and over her knees, exposing trim, olive toned thighs. She lifted a leg and propped her bare heel on the edge of the bed. Sandra couldn’t help but blush when Miriam looked up at her, grinning. Miriam laid two slim fingers on the neat slit revealed by her pose, spreading her labia apart to expose the tender, soaking flesh within.

Miriam’s sex was completely bare of curls, surprising Sandra. Bare pussies were typically the province of the slaves and serving girls at most noble houses.

“Sophie, here is a chance to fulfill your promise to be a good girl. I’d like you to put that tongue of yours right here.” Miriam tapped between her spread digits, the fingertip kissing the very center of her dripping pussy.

A choked sob came from the kneeling girl, and she dropped her head.

“I’m waiting, Sophie. Tongue in my pussy, or it’ll be the whip across yours.”

Sandra stroked the nape of Sophie’s neck as the girl began to weep. “Come now, it’s not so bad. Once you get the taste for it, you’ll love it. Be a good girl and take care of your Mistress.”

Miriam leaned forward, her finger wet with her own exudations, tipping up Sophie’s chin. “You have two choices: go back into your cage with a sore bottom and two angry Mistresses, or go back in your cage with a sore tongue and two pleased Mistresses. Which is it to be, girl? Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Miriam glanced up at Sandra, her lips curved in a half smile. Sandra stood behind the kneeling slave, and attempted to feign indifference or relaxation. Inside she was a riot of anticipation and wild lust. Her hands shook with the same pulse she could feel in her burning clit. She grasped both of Sophie’s wrists, bringing them to rest behind the girl’s back, and gently nudged her forward.

With the tiniest of hesitations the slave resisted, then gave in, allowing herself to be guided forward. “There you go, girl,” Sandra murmured. “Just obey now.”

Sandra’s eyes, glazed with lust, locked with Miriam’s. “See, she just needed some gentle guidance, Miriam.”

Something passed between the two noblewomen, then Miriam looked down at Sophie. “I want that tongue right in, girl. No more delaying. Get started.”

The girl whimpered, then further sound was muffled as she pressed her face to the Lady’s sex. The woman’s dripping juices were smeared across Sophie’s cheeks, mixing with her tears.

Miriam’s hand cupped the back of Sophie’s skull, the delicate fingers grasping the rich chocolate plaits. “Faster, girl. Lick between the lips first, then suck the clit. Ah! That’s it!”

Sandra knelt down behind Sophie, keeping the slave girl’s wrists pinioned behind her back. She whispered in the girl’s ear. “Use your tongue and your lips on all of her, Sophie. Lick her everywhere. Lower now.”

Sophie stiffened, her arms twisting in Sandra’s strong grip.

Sandra laughed, whispering even more softly. “Yes, even there, Sophie. Lick her bottom hole too. If you don’t I’ll have to tell your Mistress, and she’ll cane you until your buttocks bleed.”

Miriam’s fingers clenched the girl’s hair in a harsh grip. The Lady threw her head back, her eyes closed, as she splayed her own glistening labia wider for Sophie’s reluctant tongue. “Oh Gods, you’re good at this, Sophie! Who would believe a virgin could eat pussy like this? Gods, more!”

The Lady ground Sophie’s face into her sex, making the girl whimper against the soaking flesh. “More! Faster, or I’ll whip you raw, girl!”

Sandra leaned closer, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick Sophie’s earlobe. “Do it. Obey your Mistress, Sophie. Make her spend all over your pretty face.” Sandra placed kisses along Sophie’s throat, behind her ear. “Then you’ll take care of me, girl. Don’t think your duty is done when she orgasms.”

Miriam’s grip tightened further.”Oh fuck! Yes! YES!”

She ground Sophie’s face into her dripping sex, mashing the girl’s nose against her clit. Sophie cried out into the soaking flesh, her tongue deep between the swollen lips.

Miriam shrieked, her thighs trembling, as the sounds of Sophie’s frantic tonguing of her sex grew louder and wetter. Then, with a shuddering sigh, Miriam released Sophie’s hair. She collapsed back onto the bed, her breath labored, a lazy grin on her face. She pushed sweaty tresses out of her eyes, attempting to return her hair to a semblance of normalcy.

Sandra released the girl’s arms and stood, a pleased look on her fair face. “You drenched her, Miriam! I think she nearly drowned.”

Sophie hung her head, the tears sprinkling onto her naked thighs. Her arms were limp at her sides, her posture one of humiliated defeat.

Miriam rolled to her side on the bed, smoothing her dress back down over her hip, but leaving the tantalizing lengths of her thighs bared. She cradled her head in one hand, regarding the forlorn slave. “I think it’s time you expressed your gratitude to our guest as well, don’t you think?”

Sandra, hiking her dress up her shapely legs, moved in front of the kneeling girl. She placed her hand on Sophie’s tear-stained cheek “Now then, Sophie. Be a good girl now.”