Finally it was complete, leaving her in the final pose, bent, clutching her widely spread ankles, with her bare breasts hanging under her chest and her bottom spread to show every detail of quim and anus. It was the same position in which she had so often bent for the cane or whip at the nunnery, making her feelings all the stronger as the audience burst into catcalls, whistles and demands for more.
She held her position, as ordered, trying to shut out the thoughts of what she was showing as the men stood. They came towards her, singly or in little groups, close enough so that she could feel their breath on her skin as they inspected her naked bottom, her flaunted anus, her mound with the hair shaved into the cunt harp, her wet quim, and worst, the tight red hymen that blocked entry to her vagina.
One took a pinch of her bottom. Another stroked a finger across her skin. A third touched her anus, to make the little muscle wink and open. Several men laughed and she was crying in her shame, no longer able to hold back the tears. One man chuckled in response, a sound infinitely lewd and infinitely cruel. Lalage did nothing, but stayed down, her hands gripped hard to her ankles, the tears dripping from her eyes to splash on the floor beneath her.
‘Don’t cry, my dear,’ a male voice spoke. ‘All will be well, just as soon as that little cunt is popped.’
He laughed. Others joined in. Lalage stood up, unable to bear the feeling of intrusion any more. It was worse than the most intimate acts of the nuns, and she understood why, all too painfully. Whatever the nuns had done, however much they had hurt her, however insignificant they had made her feel, they had always held her virginity sacrosanct.
That protection was gone. Now, not only was her exposure in front of men, but it was deliberately lewd, and each and every one not only wanted to thrust his cock up into her virgin hole, but one could. Worse by far, it would be in return for money, her most precious gift sold, a sacrilege so vile she found it impossible to take in.
She had turned to face the men. Still crying, her face was streaked with tears, her elaborate make-up running down her face in tracks of black and glittering gold. They were still there, leering at her, clearly delighted by her show of emotion. Quickly she shielded her breasts with an arm and her quim with her fan, but their faces only grew lewder still. Several were talking, some addressing her, but the words failed to penetrate her senses.
Only when Sanchia tapped her on the shoulder did she recover herself enough to bow and leave the stage, following the black girl to where Madam Amicia stood with a cluster of harlots. To her surprise Josepina took her hand and began to whisper into her ear.
‘Do not be scared, Lalage. The pain is sharp, but no worse than the whip. Be sure to suck him well, and it will be quickly over.’
As Josepina spoke, she had begun to lead Lalage away, towards a door beside the stage. Lalage followed, feeling numb and drained as she was led in among a jumble of furniture to a narrow stair, Josepina talking all the while.
‘…yourself ready. Wipe away your tears, restore your make-up. And do not be scared of Ma’am. She will be happy, as your crying has probably added a good few crowns to your price. Wait here a moment.’
They had reached a landing, a narrow passage, unfurnished save for a row of steps, above each of which one or more holes had been bored into the wall. There was also a row of doors. The same suggestive noises she had heard before could be heard from beyond the wall. Josepina climbed onto a step and put her eye to a hole. Briefly her mouth curved into a smile.
‘Little Charity is entertaining Captain Voilus, up her bottom! She will be sore!’
She climbed down, then mounted another step, this time nodding in satisfaction and reaching to push open the door beside her.
‘Come, in here, Lalage,’ she ordered. ‘Wash your face while I go to fetch make-up. The outer door will be locked until your buyer has paid, but that might not be long at all. I must hurry.’
She ushered Lalage into the room and ran off, disappearing up another flight of stairs. Lalage stood where she had been left, in the open doorway, hardly taking in the gaudy trappings of the room, until her eyes came to focus on the pictures. As elsewhere in the house, they showed lewd scenes, but in this case a crucial detail was different. Everywhere else she had been the women were depicted in wanton bliss, even when depicted mounted by beasts. Here, the expressions of delight, mischief, lust and ecstasy were replaced by apprehension, shock, pain and misery. In every case, the cocks of the males were clearly supposed to either be about to puncture virgin quims, or at the very moment of first penetration. She swallowed hard and put a hand to her naked sex, squeezing her mound.
The nearest showed a young girl at a washing pool, her pretty face set in shock and horror as a grinning buffoon thrust a huge penis into her quim from the rear. Her broken hymen showed in agonising clarity, also the drops of her virgin blood on his cock. From their postures and the broken bushes behind the man, it was clear that the picture told a story, of a virgin girl spied on at the washing pool and taken by surprise, without a thought for her will. Lalage stared in horror, panic welling up inside her, the need to run warring with her fear of the awful punishment she had been shown. A clatter of shoes signalled the return of Josepina, with a make-up box.
‘Come along, Lalage!’ Josepina urged, moving quickly to a dressing table at one side. ‘We have a buyer for you…or rather, for your cunt!’
She laughed at her own wit, and went on, speaking in a tumble of words that barely registered in Lalage’s brain.
‘He is one Oswin Lubeck, a merchant, very rich…Now sit, and I shall repair your make-up in no time, then we may watch your friend fucked before you are done yourself. As I work, listen, and pay close attention…’
Lalage allowed herself to be pushed down onto the stool in front of the table. Josepina busied herself with the make-up, frowning in concentration as she chose what she needed, then speaking again as she applied a sponge to Lalage’s tear streaked face.
‘…just as virginity is precious to a woman, so the taking of virginity is precious to a man; to some, it becomes a trophy, much as a soldier might take the sword or helmet of a vanquished enemy. Lubeck is such a one, and considers himself a great buck for doing it, for all he must pay. Still, it is most important that you give the impression not just of acceptance, but of gratitude, at least, once he has taken you. He likes to think that had you met him in different circumstances, you would have succumbed to his wiles in any case, that he pays as a gesture of generosity rather than because he needs to. This is nonsense of course, but nonsense or not, you must flatter his opinion.’
She paused, to reach for the Honour’s Gold. As she started to repair the damage caused by Lalage’s tears, she went on.
‘You must flatter him too. He is a vain man. You are to praise his wisdom and his physique. Yet he is also a brute, so when it comes to your actual surrender, feign reluctance. When he reveals himself you are to express horror at his virility, and in particular the dimensions of his tool. Beg, scream if you will, as the more extreme your protestations the more he will enjoy deflowering you. You may scratch, claw, even bite, but you must allow him to feel that he is overcoming you by main force. He is a pig.’
Josepina leant back, admired her work for a moment, then reached for the kohl as she continued.
‘Once he is in you, no matter how much your cunt stings, feign a gradual submission, and pretend to climax, perhaps two or three times. This is simple, as he has no concept of how a girl acts in true climax, merely moan and whimper and all will be well. Afterwards, be servile, show gratitude, offer to wipe his cock, or suck it clean. He adores the submission of a conquest. Suggest, perhaps, that he has probably left you pregnant, which he enjoys, but as soon as he has left take drink of bitter aloes. There is a bottle at the rear of that cabinet. It will dull the pain and also prevents conception. A moment.’
She stopped talking again and took hold of Lalage’s chin, holding it gently as she applied the last few touches of make-up. A few da
bs with a powder puff, a brief inspection and she was satisfied. Lalage had barely moved, and stayed seated at the table as Josepina skipped across to the door.
‘Come on,’ Josepina urged. ‘Don’t you want to see your friend lose her virginity?’
Lalage said nothing, but rose, compelled by a horrid fascination to see Sanchia raped. Josepina was excited, giggling as she pulled Lalage down the rear corridor to the end room. Climbing a step, she put her eye to a hole. Lalage followed suit.
Sanchia was there, on the bed, but her pose was very different from what Lalage had expected. She lay curled up, a pose languid yet calculated to show off her large, firm breasts and leave the rouged lips of her sex visible as if in accidental display. In her hand she held a small mirror, with which she was making a critical appraisal of her jewelled hair and make-up.
‘We are in time,’ Josepina whispered. ‘Her buyer is Father Thorold Karn, secretary to the Cardinal himself!’
For a moment Lalage felt surprise at how high corruption had spread, only to remember Father Glauter. As she turned back to the room, her mouth came open in shock.
Sanchia, always so defiant, always so strong, had begun to masturbate, readying her sex by stroking her lips and clitoris with a spit-wet finger. It was working too, white fluid leaking from the hole of her vagina, with the bright red skin of the hymen visible as she worked on herself.
Lalage swallowed, thinking of her own tight membrane and what was going to happen to her in just minutes. There was a noise from behind them and Fida appeared, smiling.
‘He is there?’
‘Not yet,’ Josepina answered, making room for her companion. ‘See how well little Sanchia behaves!’
Fida chuckled as she put her eye to the hole, then went abruptly silent as the door to Sanchia’s room began to open. Sanchia abruptly stopped playing with herself, her pose becoming more languid and artless still as the door swung wide. Madam Amicia appeared, beaming as she ushered a tall, spare man into the room. He was in the white robes of his rank, but with the hood thrown back, to reveal a stern, bony face.
‘Blessed Father,’ Sanchia said softly. ‘I am honoured.’
‘So you are,’ Karn answered. ‘It is seldom I trouble with virgins, with so much nubile cunt to be had, but for you I make an exception.’
‘Am I to your taste then, Father?’ Sanchia purred, running her spread fingers up one thigh to the curve of her hip.
‘Indeed so,’ he answered. ‘Twice I saw you in the nunnery pillories, and I had hoped you might prove irredeemable.’
‘I am,’ Sanchia answered, ‘quite irredeemable. Now come to the bed, Father, and I will undress you. The thought of you is setting me on fire, so lean…so strong…so male.’
She moved on the bed, stretching like a great cat, then rolling to make room for him.
‘He knows!’ Lalage hissed. ‘Why does he do this? Why does he not tell the Cardinal?’
‘Sh!’ Josepina urged, then went on in a whisper. ‘The Cardinal knows also, you stupid child! His taste is to piddle in a girl’s mouth, and to be sucked with her mouth still full.’
Lalage was left speechless and could only turn back to the room. Sanchia was in the act of peeling the priest’s robes up, revealing a body all sinew and pallid grey flesh. Sanchia purred, all eagerness as she came to straddle the priest’s leg, her wet quim spread over his thigh as she pushed out her breasts for his inspection. He took them, fondling the big, dark globes and rubbing the nipples with his thumbs until Sanchia had begun to moan with pleasure. She was rubbing her bottom on his leg too, in much the same wanton ecstasy she had shown on the iron horse, but to Lalage’s astonishment, with none of the resentment.
‘She is a natural harlot!’ Fida hissed.
Lalage found it impossible to disagree. Sanchia now had Father Karn’s cock in her hand, stroking and tugging on it with every evidence of urgency as he explored her breasts. He was stiffening, the wet red tip of his cock emerging from his foreskin with each tug. His hand went to Sanchia’s bottom, cupping one heavy, black cheek. Her anus came on show as he began to knead her flesh, then the rear of her quim as she stuck out her bottom in lewd invitation to fondle her. He took a nipple in his mouth, to suck hard on it. Sanchia moaned and began to pull harder on his cock.
Beside Lalage, Josepina and Fida had their arms around one another, their hands resting on each other’s bottom. Lalage could feel the wet between her own thighs as well. She cursed her body for the instinctively lewd reaction, but spent a moment watching Fida fondle Josepina’s bottom before she put her eye back to the hole.
Father Karn was erect, his long, pale cock stiff in Sanchia’s hand. She was still rubbing herself on him, but climbed off suddenly, to kneel on the bed. Lalage heard Josepina purr in pleasure as Sanchia took the priest’s cock into her mouth, sucking with real urgency and kneading his balls as she did it. He moaned, his eyes shut in pleasure, still fondling her breast.
For a moment Lalage thought that Sanchia might have tricked the priest, preserving her precious virginity by making him come in her mouth. Then she had come off his cock, leaving a trail of saliva hanging from her mouth, utterly wanton as she lay back on the bed, spreading her thighs to show off the glistening pink centre of her quim, with the taut red maidenhead showing in plain view.
Father Karn took his cock in hand. He was grinning, and trembling in his urgency as he stood, to take Sanchia by the hips and pull her to the edge of the bed, presenting her sex to his erection. She merely sighed and rolled herself up, making an open offer of her virgin quim. Karn pushed his cock down, his eyes fixed on her hole as he pressed the head of his cock to her hymen.
Lalage felt her own sex tighten as Sanchia’s bulged in. Father Karn grunted and pushed, hard. Sanchia gave a single cry and the cock was sliding up into her sex, filling her, her virginity gone, as beads of blood began to ooze from her cunt. Still Lalage watched, unable to tear herself away from the hole as Sanchia was fucked in her virgin blood.
At last Lalage felt Josepina’s hand on her shoulder. Numb with shock, her whole body trembling, juice running freely down her inner thighs, she allowed herself to be led back to the room in which her own virginity was to be surrendered. Josepina checked the room through the peep hole and sent Lalage in with a meaningful pat to her bottom, and spoke as she pulled the door to.
‘Now, Lalage, you will behave, won’t you? Entertain the Good Master Lubeck as you have been instructed, as Sanchia did, only with a little resistance. I will be watching.’
The door closed, a key turned in the lock and Lalage was alone, and helpless. Glancing at the wall, she caught a flicker of light among the gilded scroll work of a picture frame and realised that Josepina was indeed watching. It made little difference. Her disgrace was absolute.
At last she went to the bed, to sit on one corner in utter dejection, hugging the post. She felt confused, and betrayed by Sanchia, so utterly alone. When the key turned in the lock her heart jumped, and a prayer came unbidden to her lips. The door swung wide. Madame Amicia came in, beaming as she gestured to the man behind her.
‘Here we are, Master Lubeck, isn’t she just as fresh as a flower? Lalage, this is Master Oswin Lubeck, who you are to accord every courtesy and respect.’
Lalage threw a single, frightened glance at Lubeck. He was terrifying, a huge man, barrel chested and running to fat, his face a round, red moon above a ruffed collar and a jacket of gold silk on rich brown.
‘I shall leave you two lovebirds together,’ Amicia remarked.
She left the room. The key grated in the lock behind her. Lubeck approached the bed, his eyes feasting on Lalage’s body. Lalage shrank away, unable to make herself act as Josepina had instructed her. Lubeck came to sit beside her. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head up, forcing her to look into his eyes. Fresh fear welled up in her, and a desperation to do something, anything, to protect her virginity.
‘My but aren’t you just the little poppet,’ he drawled. ‘And
so shy. Well, my dear, I’ve a little surprise for you, or, as it happens, rather a big surprise. Do you know what part of you it is for? Guess.’
‘I do not know,’ Lalage lied.
‘Guess,’ he repeated. ‘What do you think, your head? A pretty bonnet perhaps? Or those dainty feet? A nice pair of silk slippers?’
‘I don’t know, really, your worship.’
‘Then I shall tell you, little one. It’s that part of your body men like the best, not your pretty face, not your waist, or even those pert little titties, nor any of the things you girls like to show off. No, little one, it is for your cunt, that dirty little hole between your thighs, your dirty little cunt hole, that you’ve been taught to keep secret, taught never to show. Well now you’re going to, little one. You’re going to hold it spread for Uncle Oswin while he gives you your present…’
He had pushed her chin high as he spoke, so that she was forced to lean back on the bed. A last push set her sprawling on the covers. He stood, looming above her, and reached down to pull open the flap of his breeches. His hand burrowed into his clout, to pull out his cock, a great, brown, flaccid thing, wrinkled and ridged with veins.
‘Here is your present, little one,’ he laughed, ‘a present for you to play with, first in your pretty mouth, to make me hard as I sip a glass of wine. When you have me ready, he goes in your cunt. First, my wine. Serve me.’
Lalage scrambled across the bed and up. Lubeck went to sit down as she hurried to the cabinet. It was full of bottles, mostly unfamiliar, but with the pale green wine of Autuc among them. Her hand went to it, and stopped. At the back was another bottle, as Josepina had said. Biting her lip, she took it.
Reaching down a glass from the shelf, she filled it close to the brim and returned the bottle. Lubeck was watching her, and idly stroking his penis, which had already begun to swell. Lalage forced a smile and began to crawl towards him, shuffling on her knees with the glass in her hand. He took it as she reached him, sipped and slid a little forward in his chair, presenting his cock and balls.
Whipping Girl Page 23
