The Instruction of Olivia

by Geoffrey Allen

  'I'm not a trollop,' she winced, still shivering from the cold water that dripped from her hair.

  'But I daresay that your arse has had many a visitor. Has it not?'

  'A few,' mumbled Flora, drawing her legs together.

  'As I thought, a regular whore, a gutter queen seeking to inveigle her way into my home, no doubt to steal anything within reach. Friend of my niece, indeed!'

  And with that he sent the cane singing across Flora's flanks, making her hop up and down in the tub, sobbing and wailing her innocence.

  'If you can take the rest of your punishment, I may consider that you are telling the truth, but only after I have laddered your back and bottom.'

  Walter was true to his word and lashed the cane across her shoulders, crossing the welts from blade to blade and then steadily progressing downwards, leaving a deadly succession of dark blue parallel lines that gradually turned to red and purple. When he struck her bottom the cane had been freshly wetted, and she writhed her hips from side to side, trying to counter the blows as they fell.

  Flora felt each one as if it were the first, the pain brought tears to her eyes, but now her mouth was open and no sound came. She was determined not to utter any more filthy oaths, or give the maid any further cause to abuse her. Only a muted sob warbled from her throat from each stroke, for by now the punishment was almost at an end. Walter was caning the crown of her bottom, and soon the final strokes would land where they had begun. He gave her four hard lashes on the crease of thigh and buttock, and tossed the cane into the tub.

  'You are indeed telling the truth,' he said, marvelling at her striped body. 'A remarkable young woman, is she not, Helena?'

  'Indeed she is, sir,' and she made to untie the cords. 'Leave her for a while and wash away the blood from her back,' he told her.

  The maid climbed into the tub and stood directly behind Flora, wetting a sponge from the taps and squeezing the water over the ripening welts. She washed every strip from shoulder to waist, and paid ever greater attention to the buttocks and thighs. A fully loaded sponge went under Flora's legs and soaked her pouting mound, wiping it clean of the sweat and blood that had gathered there.

  'Master likes his women fresh in their parts,' Helena advised, ringing the sponge.

  'Surely he's not going to take me here?' Flora gasped.

  'Where else?'

  'But I'm still tied to these taps, and my poor backside aches so.'

  'All the better. That's how he likes them, hot whipped and aching.'

  Walter, who had left the room to visit the closet, came back in, his breeches already removed and shirt drawn up around his waist.

  'I have to give it you,' he explained, replacing his maid in the tub, 'as all part of your preparation for what, I am certain, lies ahead.'

  'Give it me, then,' Flora offered. 'As hard as I am likely to receive.'

  Walter penetrated her with a single thrust and the shock whooshed from her mouth. Helena threw her arms around Flora's waist and held her still, but found the sight of her swaying breasts too much to resist. While Walter rode with long steady thrusts, the maid reached under Flora's arms and weighed the breasts in her palms.

  'You could suck my nipples,' Flora suggested in a furtive whisper.

  'Do as she requests,' Walter commanded, hearing her rasping plea.

  Helena ducked beneath Flora and craned her neck upwards, closing her lips around the throbbing nipples and sucking them in. Walter began to ride harder, butting her tender, whipped bottom with his pelvis and groin. Flora's bent body rocked under the impact of smacking flesh on flesh, her fingers wormed around the taps. Then came a long and unexplained pause while he pulled out of her, splashed his hand beneath the water and was as quickly back in again. Now only one hand smoothed her flanks whereas previously there had been two. Helena continued with her playful dalliance, sucking and tonguing, licking and nibbling both breast and nipple.

  Suddenly Flora gasped abruptly and hissed through her teeth at the burning pain going through her back. The organ inside her stopped its violent stabbing to allow the pain to sink in, and Flora to feel it more acutely. Then he dealt her another blow, plunging his organ back in immediately it was delivered. And so it went on, plunging and slashing, both organ and cane following each other, getting faster and faster. And all the while faithful Helena bit and ground her teeth over the throbbing nipples.

  Flora was thrown into confusion, not knowing which either hurt or pleased her the most. Her back and flanks were on fire from the repeated blows, her nipples were sore and pained, but between her legs was all fire of a different kind. She knew that her orgasm was not long in coming.

  'Oh, sir,' she panted, 'never have I had it like this!'

  Crying and tear streaked, her face flushed, her breasts swollen and throbbing and her bottom in agony, she clung to the taps until her knuckles went white. The cane was trailing away as Walter rose towards his own fulfilment. Inside, Flora felt his shaft suddenly heat and swell; she was sure it had grown another inch.

  With a grunt she braced herself and, legs and arms rigid, she felt him empty into her with a gush. Helena fell away and sank to her haunches, her lips sore from so much sucking. Her trembling fingers loosed the cords and Flora collapsed sideways into the tub

  'You have done well,' Walter complimented. 'I am sure that you will be able to cope with anything that Effie throws at you. Now you may rest and Helena will administer to all your wants, whilst I retire to work out my plan.'

  Chapter Fifteen

  'How long do you intend to keep me chained like this?' Olivia asked Effie.

  Effie gave her a look of contempt. 'Until you've learned your lesson. You were coming on nicely, proving to be a good actress, which is why I sent you to one of my best and most lucrative clients,' she paused and tested the chain running from the ring in Olivia's labia. 'Then you had to go and do a thing like that. I can't understand you at all.'

  'I don't want to stay here any longer,' Olivia protested, trying to sit up.

  The chain that had been fastened to the ring passed under her legs and was secured to a broad metal waistband that had been padlocked to the wall. Her hands were at her front, shackled to her waist. Charlotte had been given the task of feeding her gruel from a bowl, and as soon as she had recognised Olivia was determined to make her life an abject misery. She had it in her mind that Olivia had seduced Henry, and was taking her revenge. She stood behind Effie, porridge and spoon in hand.

  'You'll stay here until I'm satisfied you can be trusted, which will be some considerable time. However, I can relieve your suffering for a short while. We have a new girl amongst us, about the same build and height as Sappho, ideally matched for this evening's entertainment, and you shall be the prize.'

  She smiled at that and motioned Charlotte forward, then made her way back up the cellar steps.

  'Serves you right,' Charlotte said, shoving a spoon of evil tasting stodge into Olivia's mouth. 'I knew you'd come to a bad end. Henry said it was written all over your face.'

  'Bugger Henry,' Olivia replied, spitting the liquid over Charlotte's front.

  Charlotte recoiled and hurled the bowl across the cellar. It bounced over the stone flags and landed upside down in a corner, and was immediately seized upon by a host of rats. Watching them, Olivia shivered and drew her knees tight to her chest.

  'I'm going to whip you for that,' Charlotte promised. 'Mistress Effie said that I was to keep you under control, and that I shall rightly do. Put your knees down.'

  Olivia, seething with rage, slowly lowered her knees, stretching her legs in front of her. Her back was against the wall and her hands clasped over her belly. Charlotte picked up a length of leather strap that had once been part of a harness and thrashed it into the floor. A cloud of dust rose, and through it Olivia saw the rats bolting for cover.

  'Lift your hands up, wretch!' Charlotte commanded, imitating the forceful voice of Effie.

  Olivia raised the shackles to her chest, exposin
g her thighs and belly. The strap lashed across her upper thighs and she screamed. Charlotte's eyes flashed like a lizard's eyeing its prey. Naked and defenceless, Olivia turned her head away from the eyes that she was sure betrayed insanity of some sort.

  'You like this, don't you?' Charlotte questioned, as she hit her again. The strap made a hollow slapping sound as it lashed just under Olivia's navel.

  'What's the matter with you?' she replied. 'Has Henry lost interest in you all of a sudden?'

  'Bitch!' Charlotte screamed, and lashed her again across the belly, landing the strap across the top of her mound. She grinned like a maniac and delivered several blows in quick succession, leaving a pattern of thick, deep welts across the shaking belly.

  Olivia squirmed from the force of the blows; each stripe seemed more vicious than the last, coming at full strength, landing only on her belly, one on top of the other. Olivia writhed and contorted, fighting desperately against the sickening chill inside her stomach. No matter how much she was beaten she would not give Charlotte the satisfaction that she sought.

  She let her head roll against the wall, emitting a series of harsh groans. Her mind had emptied of any coherent thoughts, and was aware only of the whistling strap and the excruciating pain passing through her belly.

  'You're holding back!' Charlotte hissed. She stopped to wipe the sweat from her brow and regarded the red welts striping Olivia's stomach.

  To Olivia's great relief the strapping ceased, and when she opened her eyes she saw that Charlotte had left the cellar. The strap lay abandoned on the flags. One by one the rats came slithering out of their holes and scurried towards the upturned porridge.

  But hardly had they begun to lap up the gruel when Charlotte returned carrying a pint pot. She knelt beside Olivia and raised the rim to her lips.

  'Drink,' she whispered, almost kindly. 'You must be thirsty after such a whipping.'

  Olivia drank a little and took away her head, but Charlotte kept the pot close to her lips. 'All of it,' she said darkly. 'Drink every drop, or I'll whip you so hard you'll...'

  She did not finish her sentence, but forced the entire contents of the pot down Olivia's throat. It was porter that she drank; thick strong porter that filled her stomach and made it swell and gurgle violently.

  The strapping began again, but much worse than the last. The searing pain returned and Olivia begged for respite, but none came. Charlotte went on beating her and always on her belly. Lash after lash echoed around the cellar, and from each Olivia groaned with increasing agony.

  'Please stop,' she wailed. 'I've had enough.'

  Charlotte let the strap fall by her side. 'You can put an end to this yourself,' she smiled, flicking the end of the strap lightly into Olivia's navel.

  'What do you want?' she asked, choking back a tear.

  'I want to see you empty your guts.'

  Olivia blushed red. 'Never!'

  Charlotte was about to apply the strap again, but thought better of it and hurled it away into the shadows.

  'How about me sitting on you,' she laughed, standing over Olivia and raising her skirts.

  Olivia watched them lift until her bare thighs shone in the dim light. She went on lifting them until she bared her fork and bottom. Her hand went between her legs and rubbed her slit. Olivia saw a hot flush spread across her face.

  'Put your tongue in my cunt and I'll let you go,' she said, now standing directly over Olivia.

  'Is that a promise, or just another of your lies?'

  Charlotte slapped her face. 'Up to you. Either you do as I want or I'll sit on your belly and ride you. See how you like that.'

  'Doesn't Henry do it to you any more?' Olivia taunted, knowing that with so many other women freely available he probably didn't.

  'None of your business!' Charlotte retorted, the excited flush turning to one of anger and frustration.

  'I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's rogering Rita or Dora right this minute,' Olivia continued, forgetting that in her shackled position it was not a good idea. 'Or Sappho, for that matter. You couldn't match her if you tried.'

  'Neither could you. I'll wager you're still a virgin.'

  'That's why I'm ringed, so no one else can foul me.'

  Charlotte cast her a sinister flash of her dark eyes as if she knew something that Olivia did not.

  'So, you won't do as I ask,' she said thoughtfully.

  'How do I know I can trust you?'

  'You don't.'

  'Then go to hell.'

  The blow that Olivia thought would knock her senseless never came. Instead, Charlotte lowered herself to her knees, straddling Olivia's middle. Her bare bottom slowly descended and stopped just above the churning stomach. For a full minute she allowed her pert buttocks to hover, and by swinging her hips let the cheeks graze lightly over Olivia's belly. Her hands wandered over her breasts, pinching the nipples and fondling them. Olivia could not resist the flush of excitement that crept across her face.

  'It's not me that will be in hell,' Charlotte observed, 'but you.'

  With that she dropped like a stone, crashing the full weight of her body on to Olivia's stomach. A loud belch burst from Olivia's mouth and Charlotte bounced up and down, watching with great satisfaction the contorted grimace of agony as Olivia's bladder rapidly emptied.

  'You've pissed yourself!' she laughed gleefully, rocking to and fro and slapping Olivia's face between whiles.

  She would have stuffed her fingers into Olivia's mouth in the hope of making her vomit, but the dramatic entry of Effie cut that short.

  'What on earth d'you think you're doing?!' she bellowed, aiming a kick at Charlotte's breast.

  'She wouldn't eat her gruel,' Charlotte lied, without turning a hair.

  'That does not give you leave to soil her. I want her fresh for the entertainment.' She looked at the lake of urine floating around Olivia's bottom and thighs and her nose emphatically wrinkled. 'Have her washed and brought upstairs directly, naked and chained if you please.'

  She stomped back up the steps leaving Charlotte to carry out the humiliating business of having to wash Olivia, which she did by dragging her to a stone sink and forcing her to squat in it while she pumped the handle, muttering obscenities as she did so.

  Olivia's stomach still ached as Charlotte took hold of the chain and led her upstairs to the theatre, where an assembly of gentleman were already seated. Olivia waited in the wings while Effie, dressed in a toga that left her breasts bare, announced to the audience that the play was about to begin. A gladiatorial contest it seemed, between Sappho and her opponent; a fight to the death with Olivia the willing slave as the spoils.

  A further announcement told the audience that the victor would bugger and whip Olivia, after which she would be put up for auction. The men stirred in their seats while Olivia stood in a state of near shock.

  'You are about to lose your virginity,' Charlotte informed her happily. 'I do hope the black girl wins.'

  Olivia, waiting to be called on stage, edged nearer the curtain and watched as the contestants were readied for battle. Effie certainly did not lack imagination. Sappho was wearing a skirt that barely reached to mid-thigh. Through the thin cotton her magnificent flanks and buttocks flexed hard. The rest of her body, now gleaming with oil, was naked except for a broad brass waistband studied with jewels. In her right hand she carried a whip, knotted at intervals and divided into four thongs at the end.

  Her opponent had her back to Olivia, and in her hand was a thick, heavy cane; one blow from that would be enough to leave a welt as deep as a finger. She was as tall as Sappho and just as strongly built and likewise skirted. Apart from that, she too was naked and her skin freshly oiled. The muscles in her powerful arms and back rippled as she stretched her arms outwards, displaying splendidly proportioned limbs.

  'She'll bugger you as well as Sappho,' Charlotte said, on an afterthought.

  But Olivia did not hear her, for now she was summoned on stage, her hands chained to her breasts
, and between her legs the ring had been shown to its best advantage by having extra links added to it, and another length of chain that passed under her legs and was pulled tight between her bottom-cheeks.

  Tall and slender and as slim as a young girl, she brought the audience to a hush. Four and twenty pairs of trousers bulged at the groin, longing to be the first to penetrate her. The ring would be ceremoniously removed prior to her deflowering, Effie informed the audience. Amid a deafening cheer, Olivia was pushed to the front of the stage and stood there for their inspection. She blushed and lowered her head, hiding her face in her hands while the eyes of the men devoured her. Effie left her alone, knowing full well that a bashful and frightened virgin was more desirable than any wayward whore. She let her stand there for a full ten minutes while the female gladiators put on helmets and took the painted shields that Rita passed through the curtains. The contest was going to be a savage one, with little if any quarter given.

  Olivia was hustled to one side of the stage and made to sit on a stool, facing the audience with her legs spread wide open. Her hands were freed and put behind her head, thus lifting her breasts and thrusting forward her nipples. She could see many of the men licking their lips with anticipation.

  'Let the contest commence!' Effie announced grandly, and she stepped aside.

  Sappho was the first to strike, deftly sending her whip under the legs of her opponent, whose face Olivia had not yet seen. The woman gave vent to a loud shriek and hopped through the air. Her skirt was already ripped asunder and hung in shreds from the next lash which soon followed. But as Sappho delivered another, she caught hold of the whip and wrenched her forward, and in one swift movement tore away the cotton skirt. Sappho, completely naked, paused with surprise, and the heavy cane whistled into her backside.

  A cheer went up as the sound of cane on bare flesh echoed to the back of the auditorium. Sappho rubbed the painful weal forming on her bottom and rushed forward, landing her whip with full strength on the other woman's back. And so they continued, lashing and caning each other, producing dozens of welts and stripes, tearing their flesh and uttering deep-throated cries of pain.