by M Palmeri
Chapter Twenty: The Stepsister’s Tale
“You have noticed that Sofi bears the same old scars that both her sister and Ella wear,” Rose began idly. “She has worn them far longer than I have known her, for they were a quite unexpected sight to my eyes when I first saw them: on that day I stripped her naked and hung her by her wrists in her own bedroom. She did that quite willingly, you know—offered herself to me that way. Of course, she thought I was a boy at the time. And, you see, she had played with boys like that before…
“Though Sofia grew up in relative privilege, protected by her mother who hoped that she would be groomed into a fine courtesan and marry title, her mother did not think to shield her from her own dark desires—though I am sure the lady would never have admitted the true nature of them as such—and thus wound up kindling something quite unexpected.
“She made regular habit of making her two daughters watch the ordeals she put her step-daughter regularly through. Perhaps she thought she was feeding their sense of privilege, teaching them that power allows one to cross the boundaries of social order and treat those that you see as lesser than you as property, to be used and abused as one’s desires will.
“But there were other lessons learned during those flogging sessions in the cellar. Her sister Juliana’s, you are already familiar with. Sofia, however, found herself aroused by the dynamics of exaggerated power and control. The helplessness, the vulnerability, balanced against the freedom and opportunity to do as one wishes with another. It would have been easy for her to just assume a taste for the tormenter’s role, much as her mother had intended. But Sofia realized young the true power of the willing victim. And she began to condition herself: She would seek the privacy of the night and experimentally whip herself and then masturbate, sometimes using the whip itself for stimulation. She began to associate the sharp sting of the single lash with arousal, and soon could not easily separate the two in her fantasies. In time, she also would pretend to bind herself and find new, creative ways to further her arousal despite her apparent helplessness. And then finally, when she got brave enough, she began to play more social games.
“It started with a stable boy. Flirting conversations and innuendos, teasing games, and finally, asking him to use the whip on her. Daring him. Even threatening him. And slowly, fearfully, he began to do as she wished. And with each meeting, she would push him further, and become more daring. Soon, she would have him whipping her naked back. Despite his fear, she would make him leave marks before she was done with him.
“Then she offered her ass. Then her breasts. And he became more willing to hurt her as much as she demanded. Finally, she offered herself completely to him, and after he had stung her skin raw, she began to teach him how to satisfy her in other ways.”
Marie almost jumped as she felt fingers interlace with her own. Claire had taken her hand, and was holding it warmly, strongly, though her eyes were still locked forward as if ignoring Marie. Rose took brief note of this and grinned before continuing.
“Sofi is a daring girl. She has a definite preference for men, but I think she almost considered trying me when I had her hanging that first time. I remember how her eyes lit up, when I took her to her room and explained that the only way I would know my true lover was that she was so willing to be whipped. She offered herself with only enough hesitation to appear shy and fearful. But I could smell her heat as I bound her.”
Rose stood up then, walked over and stayed Sofi’s hand. Then she took the whip from her, and led her around the front of the rack. One of the maids let down a loop of rope from one of the ceiling pulleys, and Rose had Sofi half-hung by her wrists in a flash, then paused to consider the taut, scarred lines of her body.
“She blanched a bit when I opened my costume to reveal myself—in hindsight I should have blindfolded her and taken her in her ignorance. But I admit I’d been quite satisfied with my prior night’s adventures, and had been assured there were other lands to conquer…” Rose left Sofi hanging and went to teasingly caress first Ella and then Juli. “Still, she recovered her ardor as soon as I assured her that my husband would be up shortly to deal with her.”
Richard came forward then and took the whip from Rose. He circled Sofi, teasing her with the lash, then suddenly struck hard. She did not cry out, only began writhing and moaning in her bonds. Richard struck her again, striping her flank. Then her thigh. Then her breast. Then he took her roughly by the hair and began to stroke her sex hard with the knobby hilt of the whip.
“I must say that her mother was so scandalized and horrified by the spectacle that she readily agreed to whatever bargain was offered,” Rose purred.
Marie could feel motion in Claire’s grip, and glancing sideways, nervously realized that Claire was idly fingering herself under her lifted skirts. She could smell Claire’s unique musk, and felt Claire’s grip on her hand tighten.
“Perhaps you’d like a better view?” Rose offered coyly. She released Sofi, taking her by the hair and leading her in front of Marie. Sofi only grinned at the abuse, as Rose shoved her forward to stand before Marie, forcing her to bend forward. As if knowing what was coming, Sofi took hold of either arm of Marie’s chair for support and spread her feet apart. Richard took up a position behind her and began lashing her ass in earnest.
Sofi was breathing hard, biting her lip, wincing with each stripe. The slap of the whip rung in Marie’s ears—Richard was not holding back. She tried to read his stoic face, but it was like he did not even see her. Then Rose stepped between them and ran a finger between Sofi’s legs.
“I think that will be enough,” she purred, then tasted her fingers approvingly. Sofi looked back over her shoulder for a moment, then closed her eyes tight. Rose had undone Richard’s trousers and had taken his hardened sex out, stroking it idly. She whispered something in his ear. He took Sofi strongly by the hips, and had rammed himself deep inside of her in an instant. Sofi squealed once, then bit back her response, panting through her teeth only inches away from Marie, and Richard fucked her so violently that it rocked the chair.
Marie could smell Sofi’s breath, her sweat, her sex. It mixed with the rising perfume of Claire, who was now fingering herself with her right hand with greater intensity, her left almost crushing Marie’s in its determined grip. Sofi began to cry out with each thrust, almost like she was in agony, but then her head would whip back around and she would look at Richard and glare at him, pushing herself back against him, daring him to go harder. Marie tried to look away, but that only brought her attention to the circle of naked women lining the chamber. They were becoming restless at the spectacle: shuffling, squirming, beginning to caress and explore themselves (and in some cases each other).
Rose—who had taken the cat from her husband so that he could grip Sofi by the hips with both hands to pull her back into his thrusting—now began to use the lash on Sofi’s hips and back while she was being pumped. Sofi’s cries grew louder, breathier, and her head whipped and rolled, her dark hair flying. Her body gleamed with sweat, and her legs threatened to fail her. Marie could feel her arms trembling through her grip on the chair. Then suddenly she began to convulse sharply, her whole body bucking. She looked like she was trying to pull away from Richard, but he held her and kept on mercilessly, having to steady her as her legs almost failed. She had stopped screaming and was now holding back her breath, her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Then she let out a final, hoarse roar and almost fell head-first into Marie’s lap. Richard slowed his thrusting and stopped. Rose knelt as he pulled out of the girl (with one final cry), and immediately took his cock in her mouth, humming with satisfaction as she pumped her head on his sex, taking it all the way to the root and holding it down her throat until it looked like she would suffocate. Then she gave it up with a gasp and grinned hungrily.
Sofi had gone to her knees in front of Marie, breathless, shivering. Claire made a low growling sound, and put the fingers she had just had inside her in her mouth and sucked on them, stil
l squeezing Marie’s hand. Rose looked from Claire to Marie with a grin of satisfaction.
“We should proceed.”
Chapter Twenty-One: The Runaway Princess
Rose signaled for her three victims to again be released from their mechanically-assisted torments and brought to kneel before her. She whispered again in each one’s ear, but again received no response to her questioning. They simply kept still, eyes cast down, hands—though unbound—held subserviently behind their backs.
“Very well,” Rose announced (again, not sounding disappointed). “Each of you has yet to experience one last device, but I think we will save that for our later enjoyment. Now, I think, it is time for your final trial, and your final choice.”
The three girls seemed to tense a bit, as if knowing what was being promised them. Rose looked up at Marie.
“I would introduce you to these delicate flowers,” she said with feigned regret, “but I’m afraid I do not know their names. They have stubbornly declined to tell me, you see.” She circled the three slowly as she continued. “There is a rumor throughout the countryside: The king of one of our neighboring lands has lost a daughter. Forced to marry against her will, she escaped from his castle, in the company of two of her most loyal handmaidens. If this were true, I had expected that she might seek sanctuary here, to avoid such an unhappy fate. And lo, one night ago, these three fatigued and hungry travelers show up at our gates, begging to join our little society.
“Though they refused to give their names, they were given entry, and put to the usual tests. They were fed, bathed, and then intimately examined—I was impressed by how readily they submitted to such vulnerability. They maintained that they were simply servant girls, escaped from a cruel master, but the condition of their skin and hair betrayed a life of privilege. As such, I kept my initial ‘examinations’ brief and limited—they were, for the most part, untouched and intact—and gave them lodging, only to observe them covertly through the night. They were careful in their conversation, at least, not saying anything that would reveal any sense of rank or subservience. However, they did take advantage of their comfort and apparent privacy to engage in a most lovely and almost innocent—and completely egalitarian—evening of play. It is clear that there is a very strong and loving bond between them, and I suspect they would do anything for each other.
“In the morning, they were shown the estate, introduced to some of our trades (and a few of our leisure practices), and given a choice: if they revealed themselves and identified which of them was the errant princess, I would grant them asylum and more. Still they feared, perhaps, that I would simply surrender their lady back to her father and future husband as a way of gaining favor or reward, which is apparently substantial. Or, perhaps, they feared that some other maid here would betray them for gold or position. So, as an alternative, I offered them the opportunity of Trial by Ordeal, to prove their willingness and devotion to our order. The freedom of choice is theirs: identify their lady, or endure whatever I wish, in order to remain. It appears they continue to bravely—and perhaps eagerly—choose the latter. I will therefore test their resolve thoroughly.”
Rose nodded then to Claire, who got up from her seat without releasing Marie’s hand, and then used her hold to pull Marie to her feet as well.
“We were telling the tale of the faithful daughter,” Rose reminded. “Do you recall your first night in this hall?”
Rose took Marie’s other hand, and she and Claire led her to one of the great tables. Using a bench as a step, they gently bade her to climb and stand on the tabletop, where Claire joined her. Rose then let down a rope from the beams, and Claire tied Marie’s wrists up over her head. Then ropes looped her ankles, separating her feet, which were then secured to the table legs. Marie was positioned partially suspended, standing at the edge of the table, facing outward, legs apart. Rose then stepped up close in front of her, her face only inches away from Marie’s conveniently positioned sex, and she idly combed a finger through the short stubble of Marie’s nether hair.
“Now,” Rose turned to the three kneeling maids. “Who shall be first?”
None of them spoke, they just looked with an almost-defiant resignation (but not horror) at Rose, who walked around them again, looking them over, playing with their long, shimmering hair, caressing the delicate lines of their faces. The way they responded to her touch, her threat, made it clear the defiance was just an act: they were all three very anxious to proceed.
Rose stopped before the dark-haired one, offered a hand, and pulled her to her feet. Her body striped and her breasts still lanced with needles, she came with a tight-lipped resolve (but no resistance—in fact, she had to be held back in her enthusiasm to advance), and was led to stand before where Marie hung. Marie caught the glimmer of hunger in the girls’ eyes as she gazed up at her vulnerable body, and Marie felt herself stiffen with anticipation. But Rose smiled gently and shook her head, then beckoned to Richard. She turned to the two still kneeling in wait, and announced her intention:
“If the tale is true, then you ladies came here to escape at least one of you being unwillingly given to the pleasure of a man. Speak up, then, or one by one, you will be given to my husband, while the other two watch.”
Marie could see them finally blanch a bit, glancing briefly at each other, biting their lips, but they shook their heads in solidarity, and resumed their feigned resignation.
“Very well,” Rose condemned solemnly. Ella joined Claire in taking the dark-haired maid up onto the table. She was laid on her whip-striped back, and pulled between Marie’s legs so that her pelvis was balanced at the table’s edge. Her wrists were tied out to either side, and then her knees were pulled wide apart and tied close to Marie’s ankles.
“A rare delicacy,” Rose purred, kneeling between the brunette’s parted thighs. “The least I can do is make the passage easier…” And she parted the lips of the girl’s virgin sex with her fingers and bent to lick her wet. The girl moaned quietly and made a show of struggling against her bonds, as Rose worked at her with her tongue and fingertips. Then she reached for Richard, taking him by his still-erect cock, and led him forward.
Pulling away from her licking, she began to rub Richard’s cock against the maid’s sex, working it teasingly between her lips. The girls jerked and struggled harder, but kept silent. Rose locked her eyes with a steady gaze, as if waiting for something. Her victim bit her lip, then nodded, and Rose gently but firmly pushed Richard up inside of her. The girl drew one long, gasping breath, her back arching up off the table, and Richard began to slowly slide in and out of her. (And Marie could not help but remember what her own first penetration felt like.)
Rose stood up, watching intently as her victim began to relax, began to breathe again. Then she put one hand on the small of Marie’s back, raised Richard’s chin with the other, and pushed Marie’s sex toward Richard’s mouth. Easily taking the hint, Richard nuzzled into her sex and began to taste her, to lick her, gently at first, then with greater passion. Simultaneously, his pumping into the bound potential princess picked up speed and force. He pushed his mouth hard into Marie’s sex and sucked at her, trying to get his tongue deep inside her, breathing into her, groaning with passion. Below, the brunette was starting to whimper. Then Richard’s hands came up and took hold of Marie, pulling her into him, caressing her thighs, her ass, her belly, even reaching up to massage her breasts.
It was again like he was totally involved in making love to Marie and not really to the body he was impaling below. Marie was quickly overwhelmed by both physical and emotional satisfaction, her legs threatening to give way and leave her hanging completely from her wrists. She pushed herself shamelessly into his eager mouth, arching backwards. She twisted her head back to try to see the brunette—the suspect-princess—and how she was enduring her ordeal, but she could barely see anything. Only Richard, when she looked down, his head at her sex, his hips thrusting between bound legs below. And, to her surprising delight, she found
herself grinding harder despite the sizeable audience (which included the entirety of the estate staff and two potential princesses who watched and chewed their lips with distress), trying to encourage Richard to increase his intensity both on her and on the poor victim beneath her. She was enjoying all of it: not only Richard’s attentions, she realized, but also the suggestion of Rose’s forbidden tale—that she could participate in the corruption—the education—of these three virginal girls—one of them royalty, no less—that were somehow playing proxy for her own stepsisters. And perhaps this might be the rehearsal to make her dark fantasy into delightful reality. She was now absolutely sure, should she ever decide to ask, Rose (and Richard) would engineer it for her.
And then she saw that Rose was looking up at her, smiling with a definite pride and satisfaction, as if reading her every thought. But then, just as she was about to lose herself completely:
“That’s enough, I think,” Rose purred.
Richard slowed what he was doing and stopped, finally pulling away from both of his “helpless” lovers, leaving Marie frustrated in her bonds, grinding her body at the air as she let out an involuntary (and very Claire-like) growl.
The brunette, winded and unable to keep her feet under her, was unbound and helped off of the table by Ella and Claire. The needles were slipped from her flesh, and Rose kissed and suckled her wounded nipples as the two ladies held her up. Then she was helped to kneel back down where she had come from. It was all she could do to sit upright.
“Next?” Rose inquired of the remaining two.
With only a glance at her companions, the auburn haired maid readily nodded her consent.
“That was a remarkably quick decision,” Rose commented, taking the maid by the hand and pulling her to her feet. “But then, I know certain things about you, don’t I? This will require a bit of a change in arrangement.”
