The Fall of Lady Westwood (6 page)

“She’s only been in there a half hour. It’d be a shame to spoil the lesson by letting her out too soon,” Miriam said, considering, fingers toying with the golden lock affixed to the hasp.

The ‘she’ in question, was a naked girl, someone Sandra had never seen before. She looked perhaps nineteen or twenty, and was very fair of skin (though the low light betrayed just how fair). The girl was in a small cage ensconced in a corner of the noble’s luxuriously appointed bedroom. The round steel bars of the cage were closely spaced, dull gray in color. She knelt — or to be more accurate — was
forced
to kneel tightly over, her body practically bent double, the cage being scarcely more than three feet in height. She faced away from the two ladies, so it was impossible to make out much more of her countenance. A thick rope of her dark brown hair was wrapped casually around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage.

“You couldn’t get some more light over here could you, Miriam?” Sandra asked, keen on getting a better view of the girl.

“Oh certainly, Sandra.” Miriam retrieved a large glass-shrouded candelabra and set it on the nightstand next to the forlorn little cage.

The splash of warm yellow light illuminated the pale, broad orbs of the buttocks planted solidly on her heels, the vulnerable soles of her feet visible beneath the lush curves. In the cramped confines of the tiny cage, her posture prostrate, the dusky crack of her bottom yawned open, clearly exposing the wrinkled whorl of the anus, the perineum, and the dark, fur shrouded contours of plump labia below.

Indeed, the cage was such a tight fit that the girl’s ample bottom pressed against the sides and back of the enclosure, flesh slightly bulging into squares within the rigid confinement. The bars crossed the bottom of the cage too, and one could see that they must have galled the smooth planes of the girl’s shins terribly.

Even in this closely crouched position with the girl’s bosom pressed to her thighs, Sandra could see that the captive nude was possessed of full breasts; their soft, pale curves bulged invitingly out to either side, contrasting with the delicate pattern of the girl’s rib cage.

The girl’s arms were bent behind her, reaching up and around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage, the delicate wrists clasped in metal cuffs. Sandra could see that the girl wasn’t entirely naked either, though what she did have on hardly afforded any protection from the gaze of the two noblewomen.

The cuffs were clipped to a fine, silver linked chain stretched taut to a ring embedded in the back of a broad belt. This belt clasped her lower waist, stretching round to pass just above the dimples of her bottom. The black leather was tight, the flesh bulging slightly both above and below, and made the swell of the girl’s voluptuous bottom even more pronounced.

Sandra thought she knew with some fair certainty why this particular girl was subject to the attentions of her friend Lady Westwood. The majestic raven-haired mistress of Westwood Manor was well known among her wide circle of friends for her feverish penchant for well-fleshed lasses, especially those blessed (or cursed) with a big, round bottom. She knew Miriam would make the girl wish she’d never been blessed with such bountiful buttocks.

“Ah, those shoulders must be a trifle uncomfortable by now, Miriam,” the Countess said, turning her head to her friend. “How about having her out for a spot? Just to get a look at what you’re working with”

“She has a lot longer to look forward to in there, but I suppose there won’t be any harm in having her out for a little tea-time stretch,” Miriam said, winking at her friend. “She’ll no doubt be grateful for it.”

The willowy mistress gazed at the prostrate servant a moment longer; a fingernail leisurely drawing a light furrow into the skin of one of the girl’s buttocks. Miriam fished a necklace out of her deep cleavage, from which (much to the delight of the Countess) hung a tiny golden key. She opened the small lock at the hasp, carefully tucking the key back between her breasts.

After unwinding the rope of the girl’s hair from the crossbar, Miriam unclasped the chain from the ring at the back of the girl’s belt, letting the chain slide down to the floor of the cage. She then pulled the girl’s arms straight up behind her. This allowed her to swing the heavy top of the cage up on groaning hinges. As the girl’s hair fell to one side of her back, the dark leather of two straps could be seen emerging from around the front of the girl’s face. The straps diverged, one reaching around the base of the skull along the hairline, the other snaking higher up the back of the skull, submerged in her thick hair.

With a hand clasped firmly to one of the girl’s upper arms, the olive color of her hand clashing with the creamy whiteness of the prisoner’s flesh, Lady Westwood helped the girl straighten. The fingers of Miriam’s other hand lightly played about the crimson tips of the plump breasts as the girl stood, her movement halting, and stepped out of the cage. The Lady used another key to pop open the metal cuffs, hanging them on one of the cage’s bars.

The girl immediately started to whimper and twist, her knees rubbing together, toes wiggling, rubbing the abraded skin of her wrists. Her soulful green eyes were near to overflowing with tears, the lips pulled back in a rictus by a thick black rubber-coated bit clenched between white teeth. A bit of saliva could be seen at the corners of her mouth, as well as at the lowest part of her bottom lip. Straps crossed her cheeks tightly from either end of the bit to wrap around the back of her head.

“Pins and needles, dear,” Miriam said matter-of-factly in response to Sandra’s questioning look. “She’s been in there a bit, as you know,”

The Lady made no attempt to comfort or assist the girl, merely content to observe her discomfort as circulation returned fully to her lower limbs. After a minute or two, when the girl’s wriggling had subsided, Miriam guided her over to the foot of the huge, richly appointed bed, and bade her sit upon the magenta duvet cover.

“Don’t get too comfortable now, Sophie,” Miriam said, standing before the sitting girl, her arms crossed below the swell of her bosom. “Once the Countess has had her look at you, it’s back in your cage. You still have a lot to think about, and you aren’t getting out of your quiet time that easily.”

“Yes, I see why you picked her, Miriam. Very nice, indeed.” Sandra pressed on the girl’s arms clutched protectively around her bosom. The bright pink bands of cuff-abraded skin on her wrists emphasized the pallor of her breasts. The Countess’ fingers moved up to trace the length of the bit, touching the girl’s soft rose lips.

“Might we pop this out too, Miriam? These lips do look enchanting, and I can’t really see them pulled back so.”

“Of course, my dear.” Miriam unclasped the buckles at the back of Sophie’s head. The bit loosened, and fell away trailing dark straps, landing with a wet slap on the girl’s pale thigh. The corners of the unfortunate girl’s mouth were inflamed, almost blood red. The straps left fading furrows crossing both cheeks. Both women watched a moment as Sophie worked her mouth and lips to try and return some sensation to the numbed flesh. The bit had apparently been just as galling as it looked.

“Hands up, now. No, behind your head. You know better than to cover up,” Miriam said, her dark brows furrowed momentarily. The nude laced her fingers behind her head, widening her elbows at a barked command from the Lady.

The girl was well built, even tending toward powerful. Strong shoulders contrasted against the slender muscles of her arms. The breasts were full, hanging heavily on her chest. The nearly smooth areolas were wide and brown, accented with prominent, dark nipples. The belly was soft, but smooth, the inky depth of her navel a pleasing counterpoint to the pale planes of her abdomen. There was the slightest curve to her belly down to the rather prominent curls adorning the pubis. Her hips flared wide from the narrow waist, and she looked as if she might have to watch her weight when she was further along in years. But now in the prime of her youth, her hips merely advertised her luscious femininity.

Sandra glanced at Miriam. “May I?”

“By all means; it’s what she’s here for,” Miriam said, smiling at her friend.

Sandra ran a finger along the line of the girl’s biceps, tracing the smooth flesh to the underarm. She rubbed a few of the dark curls there between her fingers, looking at Miriam with a raised eyebrow.

The Lady laughed softly, coming over to stand next to her friend again. “The peasant girls are all
au naturel
. I usually shear them when they come to my house to serve, but this one has such enchanting curls that I decided to keep them along with that thick thatch between her thighs. Their men are apparently quite taken by this natural growth. I’m starting to see the wisdom in their preferences.”

“Oh I agree,” Sandra murmured. Though she was at first shocked at the curls, she could see the attraction. In a way, they made the girl seem more vulnerable, less in control of her own body. More of an animal. Enchanting indeed.

Sandra tickled a fingertip through the hollows of Sophie’s collarbones, then ran a bejeweled finger through the girl’s cleavage, tasting the sweat from between the heavy breasts. Miriam brought over a stool padded in black leather for Sandra to sit upon, so that she might be more comfortable in her examination of the nude captive.

Sandra cupped a breast gently, lifting its heavy weight in her palm, while with her other hand she worried the nipple between finger and thumb until it stood at rigid attention.

“Such breasts,” Sandra said. She grasped the nipple hard between thumb and index finger and pulled upward, exposing the tender white underside of the globe. Sophie hissed softly, then flinched as Sandra lay the cool back of her hand against the warm, humid flesh under the breast.

“Be still, Sophie,” Miriam said. “She hasn’t even hurt you yet.”

“How did you find such a big-titted girl possessed of such hindquarters, Miriam? Surely a rare find.” Sandra pinched both nipples between thumbs and fingers and gently bounced the round globes together, delighting in their soft, vulnerable weight.

Sandra wanted nothing more than to set upon the girl and use her as she saw fit, but she knew Miriam would jealously guard such a specimen. Her only option was to take whatever liberties Miriam decided to allow her this evening with the luscious captive. Perhaps when Miriam finally bored of the girl, she’d remember Sandra’s interest.

Miriam brought over her own stool to sit next to her friend, apparently warming to the little impromptu examination. “The Captain found her for me, actually. He spoke of her glowingly at dinner one night, foolishly hoping that I might intercede with her father and allow the Captain some access to the girl’s charms.”

Sandra squeezed Sophie’s breasts tightly, the flesh white beneath her fingers, causing the girl to whimper.

Miriam slapped the girl‘s thigh. “Get those arms back, girl, and higher. Don’t slouch. Let the Countess get a good look at you.”

“I quickly steered the Captain straight,” Miriam said, returning to the conversation. “We all know how lust can cloud men’s minds.”

“Aye, that we do,” Sandra said. Her husband was amenable to most anything right before and right after ejaculating. She thought with a smile of the time he had granted her use of his jealously guarded, prized pony one night as her husband’s thick penis pistoned up and down within the tight clutch of Sandra’s breasts.

“So, remembering the Captain’s tale,” Miriam continued. “I rode out to the farmstead myself to have a look at her. Her father wasn’t particularly cooperative, but I convinced him to come around to my way of thinking. I actually had her strip bare right there so that I could have a decent look at her flesh. I don’t think little Sophie here woke up that morning expecting to find herself stark naked in her family’s barn, with a Lady inspecting her wares!”

Both women laughed. A tear blossomed and ran down Sophie’s blushing cheek. Miriam collected the teardrop on a finger and brought it to her tongue, tasting the girl’s unhappiness. The Lady beamed.

“With tits like these you’d think she was a candidate for wet nurse,” Sandra said, making the unfortunate Sophie wince as the tender flesh of her areola was nipped between the Countess’s fingernails.

“Such a coincidence, Sandra!” Miriam tilted her head. “I have been corresponding with Farrier’s man Lucien about that very thing. Says he has a technique for inducing lactation without requiring the girl to become pregnant. Even though I think seeing Sophie here with a swollen belly wouldn’t be an unwelcome spectacle either, I’m intrigued by his idea.”

Miriam’s hands caressed the generous flesh of the captive girl’s thighs.

“Oh Mistress, please”, Sophie said, her quiet voice trembling. Miriam lay a long finger across the girl’s soft lips.

“Now Sophie,” Miriam said, bringing her face close to the girl. “You’ve already earned yourself a correction for your shameful attempt to cover yourself earlier. I’m in a generous, forgiving mood, but don’t try me with any more of your outbursts, or you’ll be the worse for it.”

Sophie’s eyes overflowed with tears, several salty tracks snaking their way down her forlorn, but pretty countenance.

“I detest that man,” Sandra said, peevishly slapping Sophie’s breasts back and forth with the flat of her hand. “How Farrier allows Lucien such free reign I will never understand.”

Sophie whimpered at a particularly sharp blow, watching her own breasts swing to and fro on her chest in time to the Countess’ callous slaps.