Click.
A moment passed, and then Marnie felt the rush of water speedily entering her bowels. Immediately, she knew that something was different. The water felt a little cooler. It seemed to be rushing into her with greater speed.
"Mrs. Jones?" she said shakily.
"Yes, Miss Stowe?"
"Something feels—" Marnie struggled to get the words out. The sensation of increasing fullness was familiar to her, but there was something else. She was feeling the first pangs of cramping. "Something feels wrong!" she said finally, trying not to sound as though she were complaining, though the cramps were not mild anymore—they were rapidly increasing in intensity.
"Not wrong, dear. Different. You're an experienced girl who is now about to enter an advanced phase of training. It is only correct that you should be receiving a more advanced form of enema. This one will cleanse you thoroughly in preparation for your training and will also give you a much-needed opportunity to practice your fortitude, obedience and patience. All qualities you will require once married."
"But—" Marnie said.
"But nothing. It will simply be four quarts instead of two, and instead of a regular enema, there is a little more soap added. And some lemon juice. A most effective formula. You shall be lovely and clean afterwards."
Marnie found it difficult to absorb what her chaperone was saying. The pressure was so great. The cramping caused her to sway her hips from side to side in a vain attempt to relieve it. Finally, the flow of water stopped, and she felt Mrs. Jones fiddling with the bag.
"That's halfway," said Mrs. Jones. "Only another two quarts to go."
"Oh, Mrs. Jones," Marnie said, perspiration breaking out on her forehead and down her spine. "I beg of you. I am simply too full. No more will fit."
"Nonsense. It can, and it will."
Having refilled the bag, she replaced it. Without hesitation, Mrs. Jones clicked the valve open once more.
Marnie groaned. Her usually flat belly was growing rounder and rounder with the fullness in her bowels. The lemon juice and soap were causing her to quiver in discomfort. She had never been so full.
She put her head down and started moaning. "Mrs. Jones—please," she said, panting, after a few more moments had passed. "I can't take any more. Truly, I can't."
Mrs. Jones said, "Well, in that case, I have good news. You have taken the full four quarts up your little backside, just like I knew you could. Now, you'll just have to hold it in. I'm going to time fifteen minutes. Then I shall allow you to rise and use the necessary. Please refrain from complaining. Unless you would like me to lengthen the holding time?"
"No! No, Mrs. Jones," Marnie managed to say, gripping the edge of the table with her fingertips.
"Good. Then let us wait."
Mrs. Jones turned the stopcock and detached the hose.
She then flipped open a pocket watch and began to watch the minutes pass. Every moment was excruciating for Marnie. The fullness, the pressure, the terrible cramping. The nozzle stretching her tight pucker. The horrible, humiliating need she felt to void her bowels. On top of that, there was the most dreadful, confusing feeling in her sex. She was so uncomfortable—spread, naked and embarrassed, driven to distraction by the uncomfortable enema—and yet she could feel the familiar dew gathering between her legs and could feel her dark nipples ruching into tight buds.
Marnie's face flushed almost crimson. How could it be?
After what felt like far longer than the fifteen minutes her chaperone had prescribed, Marnie's insides lurched. She knew she had reached the end of her tether.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jones!" she cried. "I simply must get up!"
Awkwardly, she went to rise, not even attempting to pull out the nozzle, which was still lodged securely in her bottom. But before she had moved more than a couple of inches, Mrs. Jones pulled her back into place and delivered a volley of swats to her bottom.
"A very nice way to show your discipline, Miss Stowe!" said Mrs. Jones. She retrieved the restraints that were attached to the table. "That was a mere five minutes—you'll do the remaining ten cuffed in place!"
Marnie groaned. She had to pass the next miserable ten minutes with her arms and legs attached firmly to the table. Her belly felt huge. Her bowels surged with the need to expel. She groaned deeply, but Mrs. Jones tutted.
"Marnie, Marnie, Marnie," she said. She took two fingers and ran them along Marnie's sex, and the confusing pleasure combined with the discomfort she was in made Marnie groan once more. "Clearly, the sterner the discipline, the more it agrees with you."
Marnie shook her head weakly.
"Nonsense. I have the evidence right here."
She ran one finger softly back and forth over Marnie's swollen pink pearl. Marnie mewled at the warm rush of pleasure. She could not help herself.
"You see?" said Mrs. Jones. "Your enjoyment is evident."
When Marnie was finally allowed to rise and use the necessary, the mix of emotions and sensations she felt was too much to process. Relief, humiliation, fatigue, irritation—and, she was ashamed to admit, a deep sense of arousal. After her rinsing enema was complete, and Mrs. Jones left her in the bathroom while she went to fetch something from the bedroom, Marnie risked putting her own fingers between her legs.
And yes—she was slick with cream, and her pearl felt taut and sensitive. She craved relief but snatched her hand away before Mrs. Jones could see.
Soon, the attendants arrived and filled her bath.
Marnie submitted to a thorough bathing from Mrs. Jones. She allowed her to scrub her arms, legs, face, neck, belly—only wincing a little when Mrs. Jones rubbed the soapy cloth around her breasts and nipples, which peaked despite Marnie's embarrassment.
"Stand," said Mrs. Jones briskly.
Marnie did as she was told, gasping as Mrs. Jones made the customary sweep of her sex and then scrubbed between her bottom cheeks, where her pucker felt raw and stretched.
"There, now," Mrs. Jones said. She threw the cloth into the water and helped Marnie out of the bath. "When we are in the Redbreast Room, later today, you will be glad of this rigorous preparation."
Marnie did not like to think what that might mean.
As the girls queued up outside in silence, their chaperones in the room preparing their stations, Georgiana caught Marnie's eye and gave a small smile.
"It's so good to see you back, Marnie! There was a rumour going around that you're no longer expelled. That you accepted Major Chance. I'm so glad it's true!"
Marnie blushed. The day before, she had completely missed dinner and missed recreation. After the visit, she had returned to her room and slept soundly through the night, only waking when Mrs. Jones briskly drew the curtains open to let the morning light flood in.
Georgiana knew the girls weren't supposed to speak while waiting to go into the Redbreast Room, but she chanced reaching out and giving Marnie's arm a quick squeeze.
"Congratulations!" she said as quietly as she could. "Oh, Marnie—I'm so excited for you! You must tell me absolutely everything!"
Marnie smiled at her friend. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She knew that if she had been in Georgie's position, she would have felt envious and most likely been unable to resist making an unkind remark. But Georgiana seemed genuinely happy for her. Marnie thought it seemed unfair that Georgie, who was so kind, was still unmarried, while she—as undeserving as everyone said she was—was finally engaged.
Marnie's thoughts were disrupted when two attendants opened the heavy doors to the Redbreast Room. A thrill of nerves went through Marnie whenever this happened, though she had been in the room many times before. But it was a room designed to impress and to inspire reverence. Its ceilings were high, and the row of windows looking out onto the garden was tall, and dressed with red curtains, which draped elegantly to the floor. The red wallpaper was flocked with a deeper crimson colour. The soft carpet was a creamy gold.
At one end of the room was a broad raised dais with a
desk and leather chair. Behind this desk were two imposing display cabinets. One contained military memorabilia—medals, insignia, and a worn red coat with gold epaulettes, all laid out on rich navy blue felt. The other contained a long, terrifying looking rattan cane, which lay inert but vicious on the blue backdrop. Marnie was one of the only girls in the school's history to have felt its sting; a punishment she remembered all too well.
She averted her gaze from the cane and went to her station, halfway down the room. Most of the room was occupied with individual stations, one for each of Miss Robin's Privettes. Arranged along either side of a central aisle, each contained a daybed made up with red and gold linen, a tall cabinet and an ottoman. Each chaperone had set out different equipment according to the training her charge would be subjected to that day.
Today, Mrs. Jones had a particular glint in her eye. As Marnie's chaperone, she, too, had been waiting for her charge's training to progress.
"Finally, you are an engaged young lady," said Mrs. Jones, barely able to conceal her glee. "And as you know, that means it is time for your training in Marital Harmony to advance to the next stage. As a wife to a military officer, you will be expected to be not only obedient, but capable of meeting his stringent demands. It will be my task to prepare you for that."
At the first mention of obedience, Marnie rankled.
"Now, once your gown and petticoat are removed, I want you to assume fourth position, once again."
For a moment, Marnie did not move.
"But why must I undress?" she said. "Surely—"
"Surely, you don't mean to earn yourself a punishment so early in our session?"
Marnie's mind flashed back to her sister's house, the screaming children. She decided she must try to comply, even though the request made no sense to her.
"No, Mrs. Jones," she said, though, even in saying it, there was still a little voice, resisting, at the back of her mind.
Marnie stood still while Mrs. Jones removed her dress. She felt self-conscious, though many of the other girls in the room were completely undressed. Some were receiving punishments, either for disciplinary or training purposes. Others were assuming positions, ready to have one or another of their intimate areas tested with the range of training devices available to the chaperones.
Once her clothing was removed, Marnie climbed onto the daybed and got onto all fours, her knees spread and her bottom high in the air.
"Very good," Mrs. Jones said. "As I'm sure you will have surmised, Miss Stowe, we will today commence training your pucker and back passage. Like every other part of your person, this area must be available at all times to your husband. At the moment, it is far too tight and resistant to be used properly and without the risk of tearing. Today, we shall begin to remedy that."
Mrs. Jones set out a case on the bed in front of Marnie's face. Inside it was a series of trainers—bulbous black things with thin necks and flat, flared bases.
The chaperone's hand hovered over the open red velvet-lined case. She selected a trainer from the middle. It was neither the largest nor the smallest.
"I'm sure you're aware that your husband will expect to use your rear whenever he cares to do so. What you might not yet understand is that this will require stringent effort from you, too—not only in being able to tolerate his width and girth, but in actively servicing him. Do you understand?"
Marnie cast a glance into the box of trainers and at the one Mrs. Jones now held in her hand. She swallowed. She had been at Miss Robin's long enough to know what to expect. The girls who moved onto more advanced training often shared what they had learned in whispers during recreation hour.
"Yes, Mrs. Jones," she said.
"Very well. Let's begin. And do brace yourself—this particular trainer shall remain lodged in place. We shall therefore use only a minimal amount of salve to ease its passage."
Mrs. Jones meant precisely what she said. She applied only the merest amount of salve to Marnie's dusky pink pucker before the bulbous trainer was placed against her entrance. When Mrs. Jones started to push, Marnie immediately felt a sharp pain and clamped down tightly.
Marnie cried out, and Mrs. Jones swatted her bottom with a tawse once, twice, three times, until Marnie stopped clenching and the trainer slid partway inside her.
Marnie cried out again and broke position, twisting away.
"Get back into position this instant," Mrs. Jones said, a furious expression on her face.
"Mrs. Jones, it simply will not—I am not being disobedient! I am not! It will never fit!" Marnie cried desperately.
A smile twisted Mrs. Jones' face.
"Back into position. This instant. Unless you would like me to inform Miss Robin of your recalcitrance?"
At this, Marnie meekly submitted to her chaperone's demands, assuming fourth position and clenching her jaw and fists tightly in anticipation of the trainer being lodged in her unwilling backside.
Instead, Mrs. Jones set aside the trainer she had planned to use.
"Miss Stowe, you have been here a long time. Yet in all that time, it would appear you still have not learned that you will never know everything. You also still seem to be unaware that behaving in a proper and disciplined manner means not questioning those who know better than you. And not only that—it encompasses a certain graciousness—a proper demeanour. And in that area, you have made disappointingly little progress."
As she had been speaking, Mrs. Jones had run her hand over all the remaining trainers in the box that still lay open before Marnie's face. Eventually, she settled on one two sizes bigger than that which she had originally chosen.
Marnie opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Mrs. Jones saw her do this.
"Wise, Miss Stowe," Mrs. Jones said.
Tears sprang to Marnie's eyes as Mrs. Jones spread her bottom cheeks and pushed the tip of the trainer with enough force to work it past the bands of muscle, which resisted the intrusion. Mrs. Jones continued working the trainer into Marnie's bottom, withdrawing it a little before plunging it further in, until, with a final push that made Marnie yelp, the trainer was securely inside. Marnie's bottom felt obscenely full, while her stretched rosebud pulsed with discomfort around the trainer's neck.
"It is evident we have much work to do before your capabilities in this area are satisfactory. Really, Marnie—what are you going to do when it is not an inanimate object opening you, but a man—a strong, forceful man—whom you are sworn to obey?"
As her training session continued, Marnie thought about Mrs. Jones' words. What would she do when she was obliged to do her husband's bidding? She could not imagine herself meekly complying and doing as he wished without complaint.
In accepting the major, Marnie thought she had found a way out of an unhappy situation. But she felt a growing worry that her unhappiness was just beginning.
Chapter 9
A few days later, while at breakfast, Marnie heard a carriage rolling up the drive. The table in the dining hall looked out onto the drive and front garden, but Marnie was seated on the opposite side, facing the wall.
It was forbidden for Privettes to shift around in their seats during mealtimes. Marnie could not turn to see who the visitors were. But when she heard the voice outside—so shrill that it was audible even through the academy's thick walls—the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
"Ooh, here we are!" cried the voice. "Lippy! Lippy, look, isn't it just darling? So small! So quaint!"
Marnie swallowed and chanced a glance to the mirror on the wall. She couldn't see much—the reflection mostly showed the lush greenery of the garden. But then she saw an unmistakable aqua-blue spray of feathers bobbing cheerfully up the steps.
The girls all continued eating, but it was clear from the glances they stole towards the door that everyone was wondering who the visitors were.
Soon, the voices had moved to the entrance hall. "See, Lippy dear? It's just darling, isn't it?"
"Oh, Elspeth, it's most amusing! Aren't these funny
pictures?"
"Portraits, dear. They're funny portraits."
The voices moved off down the hall. Marnie's stomach started churning. She was glad she had already finished her oatmeal. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to swallow.
The girls began to file out of the room to walk to lessons behind their chaperones. Georgiana tapped Marnie's arm and whispered, "Who do you think those dreadful women were?"
Marnie turned and just had time to say, "My dreadful relations!" before Mrs. Pendleton appeared and called out, "Miss Stowe?"
Marnie stopped and turned. "Yes, Mrs. Pendleton?"
"You are required in Miss Robin's office right away."
"Yes, Mrs. Pendleton." Marnie's voice wavered.
"Does Miss Robin wish me to attend?" Mrs. Jones said. Marnie hoped the answer would be yes. Mrs. Jones' steely coolness might intimidate her sister into refraining from uttering the worst of her foolish thoughts.
"Just Miss Stowe," said Mrs. Pendleton. "A matter of family business, I believe."
This news made Marnie's stomach twist into a huge knot. Why was Elspeth pestering her again? Was she still hoping to claim her as a governess? Because Marnie would be damned before she would allow that to happen!
She was shaking by the time she reached Miss Robin's door with Mrs. Pendleton by her side. Mrs. Pendleton knocked, and from inside, Elspeth called out, "Ah, here she is!" in such a loud, shrill voice that even Mrs. Pendleton, whose calm face scarcely ever betrayed emotion, furrowed her brow.
"More tea, if you please, Mrs. Pendleton," Miss Robin said when they entered the room. Her eyes met Marnie's. "Strong tea," she said.
"And some more of this cake, too," said Elspeth, rubbing her fingertips together and allowing crumbs to fall to the floor.
"Of course," said Miss Robin evenly. "Some more cake, if you please, Mrs. Pendleton."
Mrs. Pendleton gave a small curtsey and left the room.
A Major of Marnie (Miss Robin's Academy Book 3) Page 9
