Cauldron of Fear

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  'You will both follow me,' she said in a quiet yet very firm voice. 'There will be no talking and you will follow all my instructions immediately. If I ask you a question, you may reply to it and you will address me, at all times, as mistress. Do you understand that?'

  'Yes, mistress,' Kitty replied immediately.

  'Yes, mistress,' Sarah added in a low whisper, dropping her eyes.

  To the surprise of both girls, they were led to where a closed coach and pair stood waiting and helped up inside. The journey was not long but would, Sarah guessed, have taken perhaps half an hour on foot. When the coach finally stopped the door was opened by a liveried footman, who held up a hand to assist each of the bound girls to step down and who, if he was at all surprised to be confronted by a pair of naked females, did not betray the slightest sign of it.

  Looking up, Sarah saw that they were at what she took to be the rear of a large country house - a very large country house, in fact. There were three main floors stretching towards the night sky and small dormers projecting from the roof. Whoever lived here was not short of money, she guessed.

  Inside, they were taken through a series of passageways and up a flight of narrow stairs, until eventually Prudence stopped before a panelled door and took a small key from her breeches pocket.

  'Inside,' she said curtly, stepping back as the door swung open. 'Everything is ready for you.' Everything, Sarah saw to her amazement, included two large porcelain baths set a few feet apart from each other on a marble tiled floor. Both had been ready filled and with hot water, for steam curled off their surfaces and the room was heady with the scent of oils.

  'Now,' Prudence said, confronting the pair of them, 'I am going to remove your harnesses and you will not wear them again this night. But be warned, if you even think about trying to take advantage of that situation I have an even more stringent form of harness that you will find yourself in. And just in case,' she added, 'you need further convincing, I shall show you what I mean.' She clapped her hands together loudly. 'Jasmine!' she cried. 'Get your unworthy arse in here - now!'

  As the two girls looked on, a curtain against the right hand wall moved aside and a tall dark-skinned female walked awkwardly through it - awkwardly because she was perched on the most incredibly heeled shoes either Kitty or Sarah had ever seen before and because her arms appeared to have been folded double up her spine and were cuffed to a wide collar that forced her head at an almost impossibly erect angle.

  'This is Jasmine,' Prudence said. 'She is my own personal maidservant, but an incorrigibly lazy little bitch at times. Therefore, I dress her as you now see for two hours each evening, just to encourage her to work a little harder during the rest of the day.' The girl - she had to be Arabian, or maybe even Indian, Sarah thought, approached and they could see the thin strap running across her face and between her lips.

  Her raven hair, hanging down her back to her waist, had been arranged so that it concealed most of the strap and her full lips had initially disguised its purpose, but now, as she halted a few paces in front of them, Sarah realised that it served to hold something in place inside her mouth. Prudence's next words confirmed this observation.

  'You will see that Jasmine is also gagged,' she said. 'Not that she would ever dare to speak without my permission, but it amuses me to discomfort her further during her punishments, doesn't it, Jasmine dear?'

  The dark girl nodded briefly and made a sort of gurgling sound by way of reply. Prudence nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned back to her two newest charges.

  'If either of you give me cause,' she said menacingly, 'then you will be dealt with exactly as you see Jasmine now, except that it will not be for two hours. More like twenty-four or even thirty-six without food or water, and with a sound flogging every four hours in addition.

  'Right then,' she went on brusquely. 'I shall now release Jasmine and she will release you and help you bathe. I shall be in the next room, preparing your costumes properly. The door to the corridor is locked, and there are bars at the windows behind those curtains, so please don't trouble your sorry little heads with thoughts of escaping.'

  The adjoining room was a large bedroom, the centrepiece of which was a massive French, four-poster bed, draped in luxurious deep red velvets. Prudence, it seemed, had been busy, for there were several items laid out in two identical rows, one along the top of each side of the bed.

  There were also two padded stools, set a few feet apart at the foot of the bed and Sarah and Kitty were instructed to sit upon these, still wrapped in the huge towels Jasmine had given them as they emerged from their baths.

  Immediately Prudence began to work on Sarah's hair, brushing it out while it was still damp and Jasmine turned her attentions to doing the same with Kitty. No one spoke and the silence in the room, with its heavy wall drapes and thick piled carpet, was eerie, broken only by the sounds of the stiff brushes as they did their work.

  Sarah closed her eyes, trying not to shiver, for although the room was warm enough the thoughts of what might be to come, together with the memory of her most recent humiliation, threatened to start her trembling with apprehension. Beneath the towel her pubic mound felt cold and very exposed, now that she, like Kitty, had been expertly shaved by Jasmine and the soothing oil the Asian girl had massaged in to the newly bared flesh had left a mild tingling sensation that could not be ignored.

  'We will finish your hair when it is drier,' Prudence announced, tossing her brush on the end of the bed. 'It is pointless trying to pin it up in its present condition.

  'Now,' she continued, 'let's see if we can turn you into an acceptable pair of courtesans. The gentleman you're entertaining this evening has given very precise instructions and his lordship is eager to impress him.'

  They began with garments that neither girl had seen before, stiffly boned corsets that reached from beneath their breasts to just on the top of their hips and, as Prudence picked up her one, a stunning emerald green and black concoction trimmed top and bottom with black lace, Sarah let out an involuntary gasp.

  'You think it looks too small for you, I suspect?' Prudence said.

  Sarah swallowed and nodded. 'It does seem so, mistress.'

  Prudence laughed and began unhooking the front busk. 'They're from France, girl,' she said, 'as are most of these things. The women there cherish small waists - or rather their menfolk do - and the fashion is spreading to London. Now, stand up and fold your arms behind your neck.' Reluctantly, Sarah rose to her feet and unwrapped the towel that had been her protection these past few minutes.

  'Just drop it at your feet for the moment,' Prudence instructed. 'Jasmine will take care of it later. And stand up straight, you little slut.' Sarah pulled herself to attention, her breathing shallow and rapid, and Prudence wrapped the confining garment about her and proceeded to refasten the row of tiny hooks.

  As she worked her way down Sarah gave out a series of stifled grunts, for the wickedly boned confection compressed her stringently. However, as she quickly discovered, this feeling was as nothing to what it would become, for immediately prudence began drawing in the back laces, reducing the girth even further.

  A few feet away Jasmine was performing the same operation on Kitty, whose cheeks were already a bright red from the exertions of breathing, but Sarah had to admit that the corset was producing entirely new contours on her new friend's body, shaping her figure dramatically, so that her hips and especially her stunning breasts were made to look even more prominent. She peered down and saw that her own corset was having a similar, if less marked effect.

  'Not bad,' Prudence said eventually. Kitty could not have said anything much, even if she had dared to, for it was all she could do to draw enough air into her lungs to prevent her from fainting away completely.

  'Breathe from up here more,' Prudence said, jabbing a finger between Sarah's breasts. 'And forget about breathing deeply - you can't, not now. Come on, sit again and let's get you both into some stockings and shoes.'

 
; The stockings were pure silk, green in Sarah's case and pink in Kitty's, to reflect the colour of their corsets. They reached to just above the knee and were fastened in place by matching lace garters, except that the colour of these matched the darker hue of the respective corset, rather than the paler shade of the stockings.

  Sarah's eyes almost rolled in her head when Prudence produced her shoes. Made from soft deerskin-like leather, they encased the foot to the lower ankle, drawn snugly about by a row of tiny glittering metal buttons, which stood out from the darker green like myriad stars. But it was the heels that Sarah could not believe, for they forced her instep into such a cruel arch that she felt certain she would not be able to stand in them, let alone walk.

  'French again,' Prudence chuckled, detecting the consternation in her subject. 'Most impractical for walking any great distance, but then we are not concerned with practicalities and you are not expected to walk far. All the same, you will have a little time in order to practice and I can tell you, they do make a girl's assets wiggle most provocatively, which I assume is the idea.'

  Gloves came next, deep green satin gloves for Sarah, which smoothed up her arms almost to her shoulder and were then buttoned tightly at the wrist, stretching them so that they shone like a second skin. This task completed, jewelled collars were added about the two girls' throats, row upon row of paste stones, but fixed to a leather backing which was hidden from view, yet ensured that the wearer was forced to hold her head high and, supposedly, proudly.

  The two women now turned their attentions to the girls' faces, powdering, painting, rouging, working deftly and assuredly. Sarah felt the various cosmetics as they dried upon her features: her face began to feel as if it was now a mask and she began to wonder exactly what she must look like.

  However, there seemed to be no mirrors anywhere in the room and her only clue was when she sneaked a sideways glance at Kitty, who was receiving the same treatment at Jasmine's hands. What she saw made her all but gasp out loud, for the face she now saw bore little resemblance to the original Kitty, who now looked like an ornate and passive doll, complete with a bright carmine, cupid bow mouth.

  The final touch, before the question of their hair was addressed, were large earrings, heavy diamanté pendants that screwed tightly to each earlobe.

  'Very good,' Prudence declared, walking around to a position roughly between the two sitting girls. 'All we need now is to take care of your hair and pin in the necessary pieces. Don't worry, they'll be quite secure once we've finished.'

  The finished effect, from what Sarah could see of Kitty and feel upon her own head, was almost ridiculous, for the additional hair pieces were like small cages, covered in hair themselves but which, once the girls' own hair had also been piled up, arranged and pinned, seemed to become part of the original, producing a high display that glittered from the heads of the various pins securing it.

  'Stand up, both of you,' Prudence ordered. Shakily, Sarah got to her feet and immediately almost toppled face down as the elevated heels threw her weight forward. She staggered, flapping her arms in panic, but managed to regain some semblance of balance just in time.

  'Bring your knees together, girl,' Prudence ordered. 'You're standing like you've already got a cock up your hole. And you,' she added, turning to Kitty, who was faring little better. 'Now keep your knees straight, that's it. Well, Jasmine, what do you think of them?'

  'They're very pretty, mistress,' Jasmine replied, her features totally impassive. Prudence approached Sarah, who was astonished to find that she could now almost look her straight in the eyes; so much height had the awesome shoes added to her.

  'All that remains, little slut girl,' she said, 'is to teach you how to walk without falling on your pretty face and bruising your pretty titties, eh?' Without warning, her right hand shot out, her fingers thrusting between Sarah's thighs, one digit forcing itself between her denuded labia. Sarah let out a squeal of surprise and almost fell again, this time backwards, but Prudence's cruel grip drew her back close again and she found herself with her painted mouth only inches from that of her tormentor's. Prudence held her gaze for several seconds and then her thin lips curled into a devious smile.

  'Later, little one,' she whispered, 'I shall have the pleasure of what I have created for myself. Your little friend shall join us too, though I confess her udders are a tad large for my tastes. Perhaps I shall give her to Jasmine for whatever remains of the night, as a reward for all her endeavours.

  'But for now,' she went on, raising her voice, releasing her hold and stepping back, 'we have work to do. Before the clock strikes the hour we must have you walking properly. We must serve up an attractive dish for the guest, must we not?'

  Chapter 9

  Hannah Pennywise ground her teeth and closed the door of her cottage, trying to block out the sounds of Matilda's screaming, which carried clearly on the gentle night breeze. Tears stung her eyes but she shook her head fiercely, forcing herself to remain firm, for she knew that if she once gave way Wickstanner and the despicable Crawley would not only have won, they would almost certainly use their victory to enable them to prey upon yet more victims.

  'Be brave, little one,' she whispered, as she turned to the heavy old table that dominated the centre of the room. On it were laid out a variety of curious and mundane objects; pieces of greenery, some small nuts, what appeared to be a handful of crumbling, dried mud, and three small dark green glass bottles, sealed with worn wooden bungs.

  Hannah bent over the tabletop and began to arrange its contents into a different order.

  'We'll see who is sorriest when this evil is brought to its conclusion,' she muttered, picking up the wickedly gleaming knife that lay waiting. 'The wolf should beware of the lamb he seeks to devour, Master Crawley. Witchcraft indeed!' The knife scythed downwards, slicing through one of the little mounds of leaves, the sound echoing loudly in the confines of the cramped kitchen. Hannah picked up one of the cut portions, held it to her nose and sniffed.

  'Witchcraft indeed!' she repeated, her voice dripping with scorn and hatred. 'You don't know the half of it, you murderous charlatan, I promise you!'

  Matilda stood against the cellar wall, her arms held wide by the thick cords with which Crawley's men had bound her to two of the heavy iron staples. Her back felt as if it were on fire and she fought to keep her raw flesh clear of the rough stonework, but her legs trembled, threatening to buckle and she knew it was only a matter of time.

  The witchfinder stood regarding her thoughtfully, stroking his chin, his eyes glinting in the semi-darkness. Matilda peered through the slits in the hood, trying desperately to focus on his image, for he seemed to be shimmering, almost unreal, as though he were merely some part of a dream.

  'Your grandmother will come around to being sensible,' Crawley said, after a lengthy silence. 'I think she will not stand by and watch us hang her only relative, do you?'

  'My grandmother, sir,' Matilda gasped, fighting to get the words out, 'will not be intimidated by the likes of you, nor would I expect her to yield to your blackmailing threats.'

  'But they are not empty threats, Matilda, my dear,' Crawley hissed. 'I shall surely dangle you on the rope tomorrow if she does not agree to paying the tithe the Church demands for your forgiveness and salvation. Under the circumstances, it is a modest sum.'

  'The Church demands?' Matilda snorted. 'I think the Church plays little part in all this, Master Crawley, save that it offers you a blanket from beneath which to crawl. You shall not get away with this, for if you hang me, it will be murder and you know it as well as I!'

  'Murder?' Crawley chuckled. 'I think not, for I have all the proper warrants and authorities, all quite legally and properly signed. Mr Wickstanner has seen and validated them.'

  'Signed by whom?' Matilda sneered. 'Some drunken, avaricious old bishop whom you probably bribed or blackmailed in turn? Or do you send him a portion of your evil spoils, Master Crawley?'

  'Have a care, wench,' Crawley growled.
'I could have that spiteful tongue cut out of your head in an instant.'

  'It will matter little,' Matilda replied, gasping as her shoulder rubbed against the wall behind her. 'Tongue or no tongue, you'll be hanging me tomorrow noon whatever, for I know my grandmother will not pay you a ha'penny.'

  'Then the manner of your execution should be of great interest to you,' Crawley leered, 'for I shall take it upon myself to make sure that you go to face eternal judgement with your mortal soul as scourged as can be. What you suffered tonight was nothing. I had hoped the old biddy would see sense and therefore I cut short your intended flogging. Twelve lashes was all you received, but it could have been fifty, or even a hundred. Tomorrow I shall not be so lenient, for I see I have made a mistake. My Christian charity has been perceived as weakness, I think.

  'I cannot allow that misconception to persist, of course,' he continued. 'Therefore, tomorrow I shall give you a full one hundred lashes and you will be revived whenever you fall into a faint, I promise. You shall feel every kiss of my lash, you proud little bitch, and then you shall dance at the rope's end.'

  'You'll do your worst, I am sure,' Matilda whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady, for now she had no doubt that Crawley meant every word he said. He would indeed kill her, but hers would not be a merciful death. 'God will spare me from my sufferings,' she added defiantly.

  'Then let's see if he will spare you this,' Crawley chuckled. He had removed his cape earlier and now he stooped to remove his boots, his breeches following them in swift succession. Deliberately he stood posing before her, massaging the length of an organ that was already beginning to swell and grow.

  Matilda gave a harsh laugh. 'Are you not afraid of sticking that rod into a devil's whore, as I believe you think me?' she said. Evidently, she realised, he was not, even if he believed what he said, which she doubted, for his shaft stood up straight and proud and, even in the poor light, Matilda could see the tiny veins straining against the near translucent flesh.