The Instruction of Olivia

by Geoffrey Allen

  He was right in more ways than one, for Olivia was determined to resist at all costs.

  'What do you mean by that?' she asked, feeling her temper rise and equal difficulty in containing it.

  'I mean you are a whore, and whores cannot be raped by the very nature of their calling.'

  'I don't understand you.'

  'You live principally for the pleasure of men, and no doubt have been much trafficked in that quarter. It wouldn't surprise me if half, nay, all of the town has lain between your willing thighs at some point or other. True?'

  He slapped her face twice in succession and again on her thighs.

  'What's the most you've had in one day?' he asked, feeling a rush of blood to his organ. 'Ten? Twenty? More?'

  Olivia could plainly see the effect of his questioning, as much to excite him as to frighten her.

  'A dozen,' she lied, hoping he would desist.

  'Ah, I thought so,' and he pushed her on her back. 'Well, here's the first of the day.'

  Olivia deftly rolled over and fell to the floor, whereupon he quickly sat on her, straddling her stomach. He took her hand and closed it around his shaft.

  'I suppose you're used to this,' he said, 'so let's see how well you perform. The outcome will decide how many times I flog you during the course of the day.'

  'You've flogged me already,' she muttered.

  'That was mild compared with what will happen to you if you don't obey me'

  Olivia reluctantly began to move her hand slowly up and down. She had little choice with him sitting on her and pinning her to the floor. But unbeknown to the master and skivvy, Charlotte had woken and was making her way across the yard, and hot on her heels came Mrs Reynolds wielding a poker.

  They burst in at once and the startled Henry leapt off Olivia, proclaiming in a loud and innocent tone how Olivia had taken advantage of him; how when he brought her out of the cold trough she had seduced him into doing something he would otherwise, not for all the world, have done. Charlotte looked very suspicious, but was so besotted she readily believed anything he told her.

  'Now you're for it!' Mrs Reynolds shrieked, barging past Charlotte and seizing Olivia by the hair.

  She threw Olivia over the nearest coffin and belaboured her bottom with the poker.

  'Disgusting wretch!' she exclaimed. 'Is no man safe in your errant hands?'

  And as the poker smacked into her bottom, Henry quickly comforted the outraged Charlotte, pawing her hair and groping her breast, a certain sign that his affections were nonetheless affected by the wily whore who had served him thus.

  'Lay them on well, misses,' said Charlotte, wriggling free from Henry and clambering up onto the coffin.

  She sat on Olivia's back, rocking to and fro and squashing her breasts beneath. Henry was as quick to Olivia's head which hung over the edge of the coffin, and with Charlotte's back obscuring his mother from view, he whipped out his hardened member and thrust into her gasping mouth.

  Olivia couldn't tell which pained her most; the poker racing in to her blazing cheeks, Charlotte bouncing the wind from her lungs, or the engorged organ she was obliged to suck. Breathing through her mouth was impossible, stuffed full as it was by that pulsating vegetable, and with Charlotte riding hard on the saddle, she had no recourse but to snort and grunt through her dilated nostrils.

  'Oh, hark at the noise she makes,' exclaimed Charlotte, her legs now spread wide.

  The grunting and snorting increased and the look of anguish on Olivia's blushing face had Henry eagerly thrusting to the back of her throat. She had given up sucking him, and with mouth stretched to its extremities, allowed his member to fulfil its ghastly function. And all the while Charlotte was fulfilling a function of her own, as was Mrs Reynolds; the latter assuaged her frustrations on Olivia's bare bottom by beating it to a jelly, and the former rode her back, legs spread and drawer-less.

  Olivia, although so cruelly ravaged, realised now what form her life would take as maid of all work. Aside from her domestic duties, that grotesque family would use her as a plaything; Henry would go on with his attempted rapes until he had indeed finally penetrated her; Mrs Reynolds would make her life worse than a dog's; and Charlotte would do with her whatever Henry suggested.

  Henry had again emptied into Olivia's mouth, and now stood back wiping his greasy organ in her hair. Charlotte had expended her passion all over her back and slithered back and forth uttering pitiful mews, as Mrs Reynolds continued to beat her bottom.

  'I hope from now on we shall have no more of your licentious behaviour in this house!' she barked, out of breath and wiping sweat from her brow.

  Olivia, as soon as Charlotte dismounted, swallowed Henry's sperm and stood painfully upright.

  'You're evil, the whole lot of you,' Olivia sobbed, whereupon Mrs Reynolds broke into a flood of tears.

  This left Henry no alternative but to punish Olivia further, eagerly egged on by Charlotte, who assisted him in escorting her into the yard to a kennel at the far end.

  'I shall treat you as you deserve,' he said, throwing her to the floor.

  He picked up a rusting length of chain that had once been used to tether an aged blood hound who had passed peacefully away some months before. Olivia was too shocked to resist the leather collar he slipped around her neck. The other end of the chain secured to the kennel would not allow her to stand fully erect, but only to sit or crawl about on all fours.

  'This is how you will stay until you've learnt how to behave,' Henry announced, pulling the collar snugly round her throat.

  'Quite right too,' added Charlotte. Then she gave Olivia a kick in the ribs.

  'I'm not a dog,' Olivia protested, seizing a metal bowl and hurling it at Henry's face.

  He dodged and it went spinning across the yard. 'Pity about that,' he said seriously. 'Now you will have to eat your meals off the floor.'

  'You mean I was to eat out of that?!' she ejaculated.

  'You were, and you will sleep in this kennel by night, and to get you used to the idea I shall leave you here for the whole of the coming day.'

  There was method in his madness, for soon Mrs Reynolds and Charlotte would be off into the town to visit the haberdashers, and with Olivia tethered at the neck and unable to crawl very far, he was free to take her at will - doggy fashion, he mused. But his intentions were thwarted for an hour or two by Mrs Reynolds, who insisted he accompany both her and Charlotte by driving them in the cart. If he whipped up the horse on return he guessed that he would have sufficient time to enjoy Olivia before having to go back again to pick them up.

  So off he went, leaving her alone in the yard, naked and chained and crawling around on all fours, feeling that whatever would befall her, nothing could be worse than this. In her shame and degradation she curled up beside the kennel and went to sleep, seeking what comfort lay there in a world of dreams.

  It wasn't long before it happened; a hand passing lazily over her buttocks, trying to go between her legs. Olivia grunted and wearily opened her eyes.

  'If you are going to assault me, you might at least have the good grace to take off this collar and stop treating me like an animal,' she muttered.

  The hand was taken away and the collar slipped from her neck. Olivia rolled over and sat up.

  'Who on earth are you?' she asked, covering her groin and breasts with her arms.

  A handsome man in his late thirties, or perhaps verging on forty, gently lifted away the arm that concealed her nipples and leant forward to suck them.

  'Who are you?' she repeated as his lips closed around her teat.

  He made no reply but went on sucking, and Olivia let him do it. There was no will left to resist, perhaps this was all part of Henry's scheme, to allow her body to become the property of anyone who wished to use it. Any time now he would return and then both men would whip and prostitute her; have her naked here in the yard, taking it in turns to pleasure themselves in any manner they sought fit. And then she would be chained again and fed lik
e a dog from a bowl, or if Henry did carry out his threat, from the bare floor like a scavenging beast.

  'Turn over,' the stranger said softly, 'and lie on your belly.'

  'Are you going to put it up my bottom?' she asked, assuming that was what he had in mind.

  'Not at all. I'm going to slap you until you cry. Where would you like me to start? Your legs perhaps, or shall I go directly to your arse? You may choose.'

  This was something of a novelty, being able to decide where she would be beaten.

  'On my bottom, please,' she said, surrendering without a thought.

  'And hard, I presume?'

  'As hard as you would care.'

  'Would you prefer I use a whip or will the flat of my hand suffice?'

  Again she was given the choice. Why did he not simply abuse and ravage her as everyone else had done. Being unused to such thoughtfulness she was thrown into confusion. Usually those decisions were made for her, and now she found it difficult to reply.

  'Well?'

  'The flat of your hand, if that is to your liking, sir, and if it will not cause any discomfort to yourself.'

  'You have learned obedience, girl, and to know your place - a change of heart from what I heard earlier in that shed.'

  'I have learned my place, sir, and am aware that as long as I serve this household I shall be obliged to do whatever is required of me, however onerous or painful.'

  'You welcome your punishment then?'

  'If it is justly deserved, sir.'

  'And is this justly deserved?' He picked up the dog chain and regarded it with seeming distaste.

  Olivia remained silent. Perhaps it had all been her fault, for if she were not so good looking and curvaceous Henry would not choose to molest her, or Charlotte regard her as a threat. If she had borne it all in silence instead of protesting she might not now be in this position.

  The stranger did not pursue the matter, but began slapping Olivia's bottom. Softly at first, but gradually increasing the slaps until they stung and made her cry. It was not a harsh slapping, there seemed to be an absence of brutality in the way his hand clapped around her buttocks, slapped the backs of her thighs and flanks.

  He hit harder, piling up the blows one on top of the other, beating her flesh in the same place, a dozen, two dozen times, perhaps three. The slapping went on until, seeing her bottom and thighs turn a blazing red, he considered her adequately chastised, although, lying on her stomach revelling in the heat burning through her skin, Olivia still had no idea who he was or why he was beating her.

  When he ordered her onto her back she complied without a murmur.

  'Put your hands under your breasts, girl, and lift them. Bunch them together and ensure your thumbs are away from your teats.'

  Olivia placed her palms where he instructed and raised her breasts from her chest, pushing them close together. Her nipples she left bare and erect.

  He slapped her much harder than he had hitherto, landing the flat of his hand on the mountains of squeezed flesh, taking careful aim and striking all around her nipples, but as yet not striking them directly. Olivia looked down and saw her breasts begin to turn scarlet. She had stopped crying and exhibited only a series of short, gasping pants. Her legs moved involuntarily; the thighs opening and closing, her calves splayed outwards and heels digging into the earth. Then she began to groan and writhe, arching her back and lifting her breasts higher.

  'Please hit my teats,' she begged, without knowing the reason.

  'Is that what you want, to have your teats slapped?'

  'Oh, God, yes. Please hit them hard, sir.'

  The slaps put an end to her panting and had her groaning aloud, rolling her eyes and opening her mouth. Her legs spread wider and she was crying again, not from pain but from an unbearable tingling in her womb and slit. While he went on striking with one hand, beating the points of her aroused nipples, he slipped two fingers of the other inside her. Olivia nearly jolted from the floor and her hands flew from her breasts.

  He ignored the clenched fists that beat on the ground and the heels that drummed, but went on with his wordless pleasuring of her womb, searching deeper inside, and driving her wild.

  He let her climax and kissed her fully on the mouth.

  'Please tell me who you are,' Olivia eventually panted.

  'There is no time for that now. Go upstairs, wash quickly, and select one of the girl's dresses, and make haste if you are to escape.'

  'Escape?' she asked dumbly.

  'Do you wish to spend the rest of your life here?'

  'But whither shall I go?'

  'Anywhere you please, but if you take my advice, you will steer well clear of the town. Head across the meadows and by nightfall they'll have given up the search.'

  He gave her a hard slap on the bottom that sent her running upstairs. In a trice she was back down again wearing one of Charlotte's dresses. He led her through a wicket gate and pointed to the distant horizon, indicating the way she should go.

  'Why did you do that to me just now?' she asked, following him into the lane.

  'Because I chose to, and it is not for you to question my motives.'

  'No, sir,' she replied humbly. 'But what if they should come after me? I shall be whipped for days and made to live in that kennel.'

  'Then in that case I suggest you make your move now, or do I have to whip your pretty backside all the way across that field?'

  The stranger walked swiftly down the lane, turning occasionally to see how far Olivia had gone, and when she was but a distant speck of blue tearing across the far meadow, he entered the high road, climbed into an awaiting carriage, and rumbled away in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia, following the stranger's instructions, kept well clear of the high road, and headed across the meadows. Though she was nearly four miles away from the town, she ran alongside the hedgerows, keeping well out of sight, ducking and hiding like a criminal. The thought of being overtaken was too horrible to contemplate. On she went, not knowing whither she was going or what would become of her when she arrived.

  She had acted on impulse, encouraged by the stranger who had almost driven her witless whilst smacking and fingering her, driving reason from her mind, leaving her breathless and panting. The ache was still there between her legs. She smiled at the thought of it and hurried on across the meadows towards a farmstead in the distance.

  Why was it, she wondered, that men seemed always to be wanting to put their fingers into her, or smacking and whipping her bottom, or making her suck their organs, or threatening to seduce her at the first opportunity? There was nothing enjoyable in that as far as she could tell, except perhaps the aftermath of peace when they left her alone and, she had to admit, sometimes a peculiar tingling sensation that was not entirely untoward. The stranger had certainly achieved that, but had then set her on a path that she would never have dreamt of following. As the farmstead grew nearer she had an uncanny feeling she had not seen the last of him. She hoped it were true.

  Olivia wondered what sort of reception she might receive if she knocked at the door for a slice of bread. In her minds eye she imagined a ferocious dog let loose on her, or worse, they might be acquainted with the Reynolds and thus drag her back there. It was not impossible that they might beat her and hand her over to the magistrate for a vagrant. At that moment a carriage thundered by, disappeared behind the buildings, and shortly came out again. Then she realised what had been troubling her; the place seemed oddly deserted, devoid of animals and all the impedimenta of a farm. There was not a beast or barn in sight. She moved closer, still keeping behind the hedgerows, watching and listening.

  There was life of sorts; a couple more vehicles arrived in the yard, disgorged their cargo, and went the same way as the carriage had gone. Olivia stood up, and taking a few steps forward entered the farmyard, if indeed it was such. The men hurrying the crates into the building took little notice of her, apart from a polite good morning and a quick
undisguised appraisal of her magnificent figure, which they couldn't help admiring under the thin, clinging cotton. She wished now that she'd chosen something more substantial that didn't reveal the swell of her breasts, or make it so obvious that underneath she was naked. How easy it would have been to lace on a corset or snatch up a pair of drawers. But what was done could not be rectified and, squaring her shoulders, she walked boldly into the building, ready to flee at the slightest bark or pair of hands that might grab at her.

  Olivia thought, for a few terrifying moments, that she had strayed into hell. The whole building shook as if struck by an earthquake. Glass rattled and clouds of steam and soot poured through the open door. As it cleared she realised where she was, and stared in disbelief at the line of carriages grinding to a halt. The door directly in front of her opened and a man got out, took one look at Olivia and bowed her forward. She might have turned and ran, but for a voice which told her to hurry along, late already and no time to lose. All her life Olivia had responded to the voice of authority and half expected a whip to lash her buttocks into the bargain. She half danced her way across the platform and into the carriage. The door slammed, the carriage juddered, and slowly the station buildings began to move.

  Olivia uttered a shriek of terror and collapsed onto the seat. The station vanished and she found herself in open countryside moving faster and faster. No sooner had she fixed her eyes on a tree or cottage it had disappeared from sight. It seemed as if the whole world was spinning round and round and carrying her away into oblivion.

  'Your first time on a train?'

  Olivia nearly wet herself. She hadn't seen the middle-aged man sat in the opposite corner leering at her over his newspaper. Her nipples, startled from shock, poked at the thin cotton, and to her chagrin it had also sucked uninvited into her bottom-cleft. From his wide-eyed grin she realised he knew there was nothing underneath that thin layer of material. Instinctively she huddled into a corner, crossing her legs and folding her arms over her unprotected breasts.