Whipping Girl

by Aishling Morgan

  ‘One squeak and you get this across your legs,’ Lucilla warned.

  ‘You will be punished!’ Corisande whined. ‘Punished most dreadfully!’

  ‘No,’ Lucilla answered. ‘Lalage will be punished, and Benedicta, if anybody. Also you, Corisande. Twenty-four strokes of the cane in Pillory is the punishment for failing to maintain order in your dormitory, I believe. So I suggest you lie still while we enjoy ourselves, and do try not to wet yourself.’

  She laughed, and prodded the Novice’s bare thigh with her toe.

  ‘I will face Pillory if I must,’ Corisande stated. ‘You will be punished for this!’

  ‘I will deny everything,’ Lucilla stated. ‘Will they take your word before mine? All we need to do is gag you, and you will remain here until morning, by which time you certainly will have wet yourself. It is that, or come with us, and enjoy yourself. I’ll have Nest lick your quim if you like…’

  ‘No! That is an abomination!’

  ‘She’s rather good, as it happens, skilled by nature.’

  ‘What if Sister Verena comes to make an inspection?’ Nest queried.

  ‘You all get whipped,’ Lucilla answered. ‘What of it? You are constantly whipped. If what I hear is true, you get a whipping during the rite of Supplication anyway. Well, Corisande?’

  The Novice looked away, saying nothing.

  ‘You see,’ Lucilla went on, ‘you’re going to get whipped anyway, probably to stem your pride at becoming Initiates or some such nonsense. What matter a few extra strokes?’

  ‘True,’ Benedicta admitted. ‘I will come.’

  ‘So will I,’ Lalage agreed. ‘We may as well, Nest, Coralie. We will be punished anyway.’

  ‘Do not, this is the voice of temptation!’ Corisande pleaded.

  ‘Gag her, Benedicta,’ Lucilla sighed, ‘and tie her more securely as well. She’d obviously rather lie here in a puddle of her own pee than come and enjoy herself.’

  Benedicta hastened to obey, going to Corisande’s little chest of drawers to find more stockings. Lalage watched with amusement as a stocking was balled and forced into the struggling Novice’s mouth, then tied off with a second. One more pair served to tie her ankles together and fix her already bound wrists to her waist, leaving her completely helpless. Finally Benedicta pulled Corisande’s robe well up, leaving her quim and bottom bare.

  ‘That’s to stop you soiling your robe,’ Benedicta joked as she stood. ‘So, you mentioned wine, Lady Lucilla. Can you get more than is allowed you at meals?’

  ‘That should be easy enough,’ Lucilla answered. ‘We shall take what we need.’

  ‘How? Where from?’

  ‘Do you notice nothing? Where do you suppose the stairs at the end of the lower corridor lead?’

  ‘It is best not to speak of this…’ Coralie began.

  ‘Why ever not?’ Lucilla interrupted.

  ‘Beyond the door,’ Coralie went on, ‘are dungeons. It is where those girls who fail Initiation are taken, to be punished for all their lives in preparation for hell…’

  ‘What absolute nonsense!’ Lucilla snorted.

  ‘No!’ Coralie insisted. ‘I have seen the Servitor Idonea descend the steps with instruments of torture, a metal screw of horrid function, and a funnel, used by thrusting the end up girls’ bottoms so that unpleasant substances may be poured into their bowels…’

  ‘Servitor Idonea, my poor, frightened little Butterball,’ Lucilla stated, ‘serves as butler to the Elders. The funnel is not for thrusting up girls’ bottoms, although it is certainly an amusing idea, but to aid in the decanting of wines. The screw shaped device serves to extract the plugs of cork bark used to seal those same bottles.’

  Coralie continued to look doubtful, but Lucilla ignored her and went on.

  ‘When I order wines, Servitor Idonea goes to fetch them, and I have followed once or twice to see that she makes the proper selection. The cellar runs the length of Great House, and contains bottles in their thousands, while she does not lock the door behind her. All that is needed is for me to order a bottle from the extreme end of the cellar, perhaps engage the Servitor in a discussion of vintages, while one or other of you comes behind me. Select perhaps four or five bottles from the third bin to the left, which is near full, so the subtraction will not be noticed…’

  ‘I foresee a difficulty, Lady Lucilla,’ Benedicta said. ‘Where are we to conceal the bottles? We are nude, and not even permitted our shifts.’

  ‘Simple,’ Lucilla answered. ‘Strip Corisande. Babbles, you are much the same size as her, you can be a Novice a day early, while her shift can be knotted off to form a bag. As hoods must be worn up at all times by order, none will suspect trickery.’

  Corisande’s eyes showed utter outrage, but she could do nothing as Benedicta and Lalage set to work on her. She was stripped of her robe and shift, then tied up once more, now stark naked. Benedicta was laughing, and paused to apply a couple of firm smacks to the Novice’s squirming bottom before standing again. Lalage pulled on the robe, concealing her body for the first time in nearly a year.

  ‘We had best hurry,’ Lucilla remarked, ‘or Servitor Idonea will be in bed. Come.’

  Scared, but more excited, and with faith in Lucilla’s confidence, Lalage followed the Tesserette from the dormitory. Their passage was quiet, but the click of a nun’s heels on the floor of the one below could be heard as they reached the stairs. Lalage’s excitement and fear rose further still, her stomach fluttering as they waited for whoever it was to pass, then nipped quickly down to the next level.

  The lower passage they took at a run, and concealed themselves in the shadows of an arch as Lucilla went for the Servitor. Lalage’s butterflies grew worse as she waited, with Nest’s hand held tight in hers. Voices sounded, and her excitement became briefly submerged in fear before she recognised Lucilla’s assertive tone. The Tesserette appeared in the passage and Lalage moved quickly back, listening as the two descended the stair. The door creaked open and Lalage began to count, waiting until she judged Lucilla would have walked one hundred paces before catching Benedicta’s arm and tugging.

  They moved out together, Lalage’s heart pounding as she dashed down the stairs. The door opened at a push and she peered in, to utter darkness. Voices could be heard, far down the tunnel, but there was no call for her to identify herself. Moving quickly, she and Benedicta stepped inside, feeling their way, and ever watchful for the Servitor’s lantern. The third bin proved near full, as promised. They grabbed up bottles, wincing to the chink of glass on glass as they filled the sack. With six bottles, they dashed for the door, up the stairs, and back into the gloom of the archway. Lalage was panting, Benedicta grinning maniacally, Nest and Coralie staring in awe.

  Never speaking, they dashed for the ablutions, and the sluice room, where the nightsoil door opened to the gloom of evening. A bank rose in front of them, and the face of Old House beyond, most of the windows dark, some showing the flickering yellow of candle light. Ducking low, they ran for the open, Lalage’s heart in her mouth as they crossed the open steps that led up to chapel. Beyond, trees closed around them.

  Still cautious, they moved through the gathering dusk, along the side of the wall, with the chapel looming high to one side. A near full moon had risen, reflecting silver off the chapel roof, and making eerie grey shapes of the tombs and gravestones ahead. Nest took hold of Lalage’s hand once more as they padded softly across the grass of the graveyard. More trees loomed ahead and they pushed in among them, Lalage leading through the dead nettle stems, along a now familiar path, and to the tower. Within, it was pitch black, but they squatted down on the floor to wait for Lucilla.

  ‘Perfect,’ Benedicta declared, ‘we were not so much as glimpsed.’

  ‘They are certain to find out,’ Coralie said nervously.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Lalage assured her. ‘We have Lucilla’s protection, and as she says, what can they do to us that they have not already done?’

  ‘Anyway,
’ Benedicta added, ‘we are here, and if we are caught and punished afterwards, it may as well be with good reason. I only hope Lucilla has brought one of those screw devices.’

  There was a chink as she set a bottle down. Lalage reached out, to take another, her fingers going to the smooth, rounded wax of the seal, making her think of the head of a cock. Regular sodomy by Father Glauter had made her eager and wanton, despite his grotesque appearance, and she found herself wondering how the bottle neck would feel in her anus.

  ‘This evening,’ Benedicta began happily, ‘all four of you are going to lick my cunt, and…’

  She broke off at the sudden rustle of foliage. Lalage’s heart jumped as a flicker of light showed in the doorway, and settled as Lucilla’s face appeared. She wore a dark blue cowl, and held a bottle as well as a lantern, also a screw. Smiling, she moved quickly inside, nodding to Lalage.

  ‘Babbles, off with your robe. Push it in around the door frame.’

  Lalage obeyed, peeling off the long grey robe to fix it in place and stop any faint chance of their light being seen. Lucilla placed the lantern on the steps, throwing the whole chamber into a dull orange light, and squatted down to take hold of a bottle.

  ‘This is wine of Charod, strong and rich…’

  The wax splintered as she pushed in the screw, to twist, and pull. Lalage caught the rich scent as the bottle came open and sighed in anticipation. Lucilla took a swallow, passed the bottle to Benedicta and took up another. Benedicta upended it, pouring a stream of dark red wine into her mouth, until it ran from around her lips and down over her breasts and belly.

  ‘Glorious!’ she sighed. ‘Enough to make you want to become an Elder.’

  Lalage had taken the bottle and put it to her lips, swallowing a draught before passing it on to Nest. With the warm, rich taste in her mouth, she found herself smiling happily, and again thinking of sex. A glance to the others showed Benedicta bright eyed and smiling, Lucilla with one corner of her mouth turned up as she worked on the bottle, Nest nervous, Coralie scared yet expectant.

  The second bottle came open. Lalage took a draught from it and passed it on. Already she could feel the warmth of the strong wine, adding to her excitement, and the anticipation of what they would do together. Cupping her breasts, she ran her fingers over the nipples, purring as they popped out to make two little stiff buds.

  ‘You’re eager, Babbles,’ Lucilla commented, passing on the third bottle.

  ‘I…I feel lewd,’ Lalage managed. ‘I don’t know why.’

  She stretched, pushing her breasts out. Benedicta met her eye and beckoned. Lalage smiled and came forward, onto all fours, to crawl to her friend. Their mouths met, in a long, wine flavoured kiss, breaking only when Lucilla slapped Lalage’s bottom.

  ‘I shall decide who plays with who,’ the Tesserette stated. ‘First, a little appreciation of my trouble in arranging this.’

  Her legs had come up and open as she spoke, her skirts rising, to show off the lacy petticoats beneath, then the moist pink oval of her quim as she tugged up the hem.

  ‘You’re to kiss my cunt, each in turn, crawling,’ she instructed. ‘You first, Babbles.’

  Lalage went down, her breasts squashing to the floor and she bent low to press her lips to Lucilla’s sex. Lucilla had taken up a bottle, and drank as Lalage’s pursed lips met her sex. The taste of Lucilla’s quim and some exotic perfume mingled with that of wine, and Lalage began to lick, her desire rising as her tongue tip probed in among the little fleshy folds of her friend’s sex.

  ‘Enough, you greedy little slut!’ Lucilla laughed, and cuffed Lalage playfully across the ear. ‘Benedicta, you’re next. Get down.’

  There was a flicker of resentment in Benedicta’s eyes as she turned to Lucilla, but she went down, as Lalage had done, bottom lifted high, breasts pressed to the floor. Lalage heard the wet, smacking sound as Benedicta planted a firm kiss full on Lucilla’s quim.

  ‘Mouse,’ Lucilla ordered as Benedicta rocked back.

  Nest responded without hesitation, immediately taking Benedicta’s place on the floor and pressing her lips to Lucilla’s quim. Like Lalage, she began to lick, and like Lalage, she was cuffed away. Lucilla beckoned Coralie.

  ‘Come, little Butterball, time to kiss the kitty.’

  Coralie swallowed hard, her eyes growing rounder than ever, but she was already moving, unable to disobey, as she followed the others in the lewd gesture of submission demanded by the Tesserette, kneeling, kissing quim. Unlike the others, she stayed down, prevented from rising as Lucilla’s hand twisted into her hair. Nest giggled as Coralie gave a broken sob, but the plump girl was licking an instant later, as wanton as any.

  ‘Let’s all have her,’ Lucilla suggested, ‘that will give her something to feel guilty about.’

  Benedicta laughed and moved in immediately, reaching under Coralie to scoop up the big breasts from the floor. Lalage followed suit, wrapping an arm around Coralie’s waist to hold her still, and starting to explore the big pink bottom lifted in front of her. Nest came in too, uncertain, until Benedicta took her firmly by the hair and pushed her face between Coralie’s buttocks. Lalage laughed as Nest’s face was smothered in plump bottom flesh.

  Nest’s tongue poked out, to lap at Coralie’s tight, rose pink anus. Lalage slid a hand in under the fat little belly, to find Coralie’s quim moist and ready for masturbation. Benedicta came forward, to kiss Lalage full on the lips.

  ‘That’s my girls,’ Lucilla said happily, ‘wanton little sluts, the four of you. Bring the little pig off as soon as I come.’

  She sat back, her eyes closing in bliss. Lalage had found Coralie’s clitoris, but slowed in her rubbing, not wanting to become the focus of Lucilla’s cruel humour if she did not do exactly as she was told. Her tongue was entwined with Benedicta’s and her own need was growing quickly, making her eager for attention to her quim.

  Coralie was licking hard, her mouth making wet, smacking noises on Lucilla’s quim. Lucilla began to moan. Lalage started to rub harder between Coralie’s fleshy sex lips. Benedicta forced Nest’s head more firmly between the fat pink buttocks. Lucilla cried out, and she was coming, even as Coralie’s muscles began to twitch, then suddenly tighten. Lalage kept rubbing, hard, helping Coralie through orgasm, until the fat girl finally went limp in her arms.

  Lucilla was smiling as she let go of Coralie’s hair. Coralie came up, trembling, and wide-eyed with guilt as she wiped the quim cream from her face. Lalage came forward, into Benedicta’s arms, hands groping for each other’s bottoms, to slip into wet, ready creases. Benedicta’s thighs opened against Lalage’s leg, the moist flesh of her quim spreading. A finger invaded Lalage’s bottom hole, and they were masturbating together, kissing and rubbing with clumsy eagerness.

  The others watched, Nest sneaking a hand in to stroke Benedicta’s bottom. Lalage pushed out her thigh, hard against Benedicta’s quim, letting her friend go first as the rubbing motion on her leg became more urgent still. Benedicta’s kisses grew abruptly more passionate. Her finger pushed deeper into Lalage’s rectum. A second joined the first, to hold Lalage’s anus wide, and Benedicta was coming, jerking herself frantically against Lalage’s leg as her fingers jabbed and probed.

  Near orgasm herself, Lalage held on tight, jiggling her body against Benedicta’s. Immediately the contractions of orgasm began to fade, Lalage pressed her own sex to Benedicta’s leg, rubbing with desperate urgency, her quim spread wide on firm, sweat-slick skin. In an instant she was coming, in a frantic bucking motion that drove the two fingers in and out of her gaping anus even as she rubbed herself, faster and harder, in absolute ecstasy as she took her pleasure on her friend’s leg.

  ‘Superb!’ Lucilla laughed as Lalage’s orgasm at last began to fade. ‘Like two bitches on heat!’

  Lalage sank back, blushing but smiling. Lucilla spoke again.

  ‘But I don’t recall giving you permission to come.’

  ‘No, yet…’ Lalage began.

  ‘Since w
hen was it wise to make excuses?’ Lucilla asked. ‘You should know by now that it only brings further punishment.’

  ‘Punishment?’ Benedicta demanded.

  ‘Punishment, yes,’ Lucilla answered, and took a swallow of wine. ‘Mouse, you want to come, don’t you? Sit on Lalage’s face.’

  Lalage lay back without complaint, unable to stop herself smiling. Nest crawled close, to cock one leg over Lalage’s body. With the trim little bottom directly over her face, Lalage stuck out her tongue, ready to lick the furry, dark fleshed quim.

  ‘Sit,’ Lucilla ordered. ‘Lalage, you’re to lick her bottom clean first.’

  Lalage’s gaze moved to the tight, brown ring of Nest’s anus an instant before the soft bottom cheeks settled on her face. Her tongue pushed to the wrinkled bottom hole, poking in, and she was licking. Lucilla clapped her hands in glee.

  ‘Wonderful! That’s right, Babbles, right in, deep in, taste her arsehole! Oh you little slut!’

  Lucilla laughed, a sound of pure glee. Her dress was still up, and she made no effort to hide herself, sitting spread legged as she watched and drank wine. Benedicta was looking too, with open delight as Lalage feasted on Nest’s bottom hole. Even Coralie was peeping from between her fingers.

  ‘In her face, Mouse!’ Lucilla called. ‘Pee in her face!’

  Nest giggled. Lalage felt the firm little buttocks tense in her face, and suddenly hot urine was spraying out of Nest’s quim. The stream burst on Lalage’s chin, spraying her breasts and belly and running back into her mouth. She grabbed her breasts, running her fingers across them as more pee sprayed over her. Her tongue pushed deeper, probing and licking with ever greater urgency as her mouth filled with Nest’s piddle. Her need for orgasm was rising again, and, as she swallowed, her hands went between her thighs, to find her quim sopping wet, with piddle and her own juice.