Leah's Punishment Page 15

  Leah was now sitting up. Denni's eyes glittered with excitement. Her fingertips, which had been very lightly stroking Leah's knee, moved up and began tracing a pretend harness-line round Leah's belly. 'Go on,' Denni whispered.

  'Two of the guards were moving among the young men; I don't know what they were doing but I kept imagining, all the while that boat was passing.'

  Then Denni started to do to Leah what Leah had been imagining: her fingertips found the firm female counterpart of those male erections and began mauling it pleasurably, sliding Leah's oily leakage up and down its stubby shaft, trying to make it more prominent. Leah felt the muscles of her thighs beginning to tighten and her legs involuntarily beginning to straighten open to permit those beautiful fingers free exploration. 'Tell your story,' Denni said with a wickedly cruel smile, her fingertips never ceasing their restless manoeuvres. Then she whispered: 'I like to make a girl stand out in here, more than any good girl really should. And with a cock so lovely, why not?' Now Leah wanted to come, but Denni made her keep talking.

  'I watched the boat,' Leah began again unsteadily, 'until it had disappeared. Then I saw Asgal standing quietly a little way along the deck. Neither of us spoke and I hurried off in the other direction. But I was unable to dispel the images of those naked young men in that state of –'

  'In the state you are in now, Leah. Your cock does you proud. Stand up – let's get it harder. Stand on the floor – hands behind you, legs open – and I shall play the guard.' Denni sat on the edge of the bed and sucked Leah's erection until Leah thought her knob would burst in Denni's mouth. Then Denni pulled away and pushed her fingertips in a closely fitting sheath around Leah's knob, pushing back the soft surround, as if searching for a root buried inside her. 'Oh – it's come out very far now, Leah – like a little curved shaft. Can we keep it so? We can but try. Now, what happened with your Asgal?'

  Leah closed her eyes against the delicious pleasure of the touching. She felt as if she were sinking into Denni's hands, as if those fingertips had somehow thinned to blunt needles that had pierced the flesh all round the base of her knob and were slowly sliding inside her. 'I went back to Asgal under the pretext of asking what he knew. He must have guessed my true purpose. He said he'd heard rumours of colonies where women took men to be trained as submissives. I foolishly asked him if he'd like that to happen to him. "Only if you were my trainer, Leah," he said. Then I kissed him.'

  'How?'

  Leah pulled back from the touching. She needed to tell this, confess it, try to expiate the guilt. 'The kiss was not given in the manner of friends, but desirously, wantonly. Then I couldn't stop shaking, the desire was so strong. He said I was getting cold. Before I knew it he had swept me into his arms and carried me below deck. Then he laid me on the big table in the galley and said he would fix my broken chain. I didn't understand what he meant but I was excited and I let him remove my trousers and examine me. As soon as he started touching there, my pleasure came so quickly that I couldn't conceal what was happening. He unbuttoned my shirt and looked at me in my nakedness as I lay stretched across the table. Then he loaded the clyster. "Just a precaution," he said. I told him "No," meaning that we shouldn't, we mustn't. He said: "You don't want any precaution?" and I just said: "Hold me." Then he did it to me – put his penis all the way in and up, and the pleasure and intimacy when he was so aroused was delicious – you know, when they come inside you. Though it is all so dreadfully risky and wrong, still your contractions continue to pull every last drop of wickedness out. Why is it that it feels so good?'

  'Perhaps because you had at hand the precaution – that's what it was like for me.'

  'Yes . . . Then he sat me up while he joined the two ends of my chain. He dripped wax on them and sealed them with his signet. His cock remained hard and glistened with leaked come all the time he was touching me and I kept trying to get the end of it in my mouth. But the touching was the best part. "There – all precious and new," he said. Then he stood me on the floor and turned me round and when I felt that chain, complete again after so long being broken, and saw the clyster loaded and ready on the table, all the memories of the Abbey flooded back and the arousal was so strong I started trembling. I reached behind and ran my hands over his chest and belly, and he felt very warm but my hands seemed very cold – the desire in me had made all the blood drain away. I was covered in goose-pimples. Have you had this happen to you, Denni? They talk of desire being hot but my desire that day was cold.

  'I took hold of his cock and directed it between the cheeks of my buttocks, against the mouth of my bottom – because I wanted it there, like the monks used to do it – and the slippery head just went straight in and up. I took it deeper and deeper, until I could feel his balls dangling hot between my legs. I took hold of them from the front, trying to force his flesh ever deeper into me. Then he lifted me up and grabbed the clyster and with my knees tucked up he carried me on his cock to the big mirror. Then with my feet on the frame – climbing it – and me looking at myself with the cock up my bottom and the chained lips of my sex gaping, his come trickling out, he started to slide the clyster in between them. Up and back it nuzzled, slowly expanding my insides until the chain pulled tight across the barrel. Then he pressed me until the plunger touched the glass and he just kept on pressing until the beautiful spasms started between my legs and I fell forwards with my nipples squashed against the glass, shuddering with the issue from the clyster coming inside my front and the issue from his penis coming up my bottom.

  'We did it together three more times during that day and the next. I didn't let him come inside my sex again. I liked it best standing against the mirror, with his penis in my bottom. He would masturbate me and, when he sensed my pleasure was coming, I would feel the skin of my hood being drawn back and held ready. I would be moaning and shaking, and feel my anus tightening around the root of his cock. Then he would press my knob up against the cold glass and my pleasure would spill.' Leah had been very gradually backing away from Denni. She knew the girl would pleasure her very soon but she had to finish her story.

  'When Merek was due back I became very anxious. Asgal was annoyed to discover that I had broken his seal; he saw it as treachery. I don't know what he had expected of me; he knew Merek was my master and his employer. I told him I treasured what we had briefly shared but I could not continue to betray my master. He said he would tell Merek what we had done. "Do it – if you value me at naught," I said, "and then, for your part, he will probably kill you." But Asgal didn't tell. Instead he continued to taunt me about it and bided his time until one night when he finally tricked me into cheating on Merek with strangers. When Merek discovered the deceit he threw Asgal out and punished me.'

  'How?'

  'He tied my legs open and whipped between them.'

  'And you still love him?'

  'Yes.'

  'Come here, Leah. Let me look at it. Would you love me if I whipped it – if I whipped this little cock and made it come?'

  Leah shivered. 'I love when you touch.'

  'Then touch I must. Get on the bed and lie on your belly.'

  Leah did as she had been told. Every nerve in her skin was a-tingle as those fingertips began their magic. Soon, the simple stroking at the base of her spine was causing beautiful reverberations of arousal through her bottom and belly. She sighed softly. Her thighs moved open, waiting for the more focused touch. She could hear Denni's breathing. Then the touch came: slender, cool, soft fingertips gently touching her anus, which responded, tightening at first then pouting as the touching turned yet softer and more teasingly gentle. Then the fingers parted her cheeks and Leah's heart stopped as she felt Denni's breathing coming ever closer to that place. The tongue-tip touched her anus and she moaned. It felt like a lubricated, arched penis opening that sensitive ring, pushing up inside it and touching the back wall, pressing there, causing peculiar, deeply pleasurable feelings. Then the tongue seemed to expand against the pressure of the fleshy ring, like a swellin
g penis becoming more excited still. Leah spread her legs apart so Denni's fingers did not have to hold her buttocks open and instead were free to slip beneath to torture Leah's labia, gently pulling them, nipping the feather edges of flesh, pressing gently upwards under her protrusive knob, peeling the hood back with gentle fingernail pressure, making Leah's sex stand open, exuding warm honeydew from its inner walls. The segments of her chain hung down, trailing curves of liquid arousal on to the bed.

  All the while Denni's tongue was gently thrusting through the fleshy ring of Leah's anus, forcing it open, then allowing it to contract a little, forcing a rhythm that she could neither ignore nor escape. As her moans became deeper and her breathing more shallow, that cruel delicious tongue pressed on and up, stretching her bottom open, touching the back wall again, even as the fingertips pressed upwards at the front, forcing her knob to extend itself for taunting, gentle wet scratching, a delicious inescapable itch that wanted to cry out against the gasping moans of the climax that burst her heart and soul like a beautiful death. Now all she wanted was to lie there torpid with that tongue inside her bottom and those fingers gently clawing her open at the front.

  When she found the strength she reached back and down and gently kneaded Denni's hair and stroked her neck. The collar of Denni's shirt was wet with sweat. Denni's tongue was still inside her. Leah eased herself off its luscious impalement and twisted round. As Denni moved up the bed, Leah clasped her round the head and shoulders and kissed her, drawing Denni's tongue deep inside her mouth, caressing it with her lips, squeezing it just as lewdly and sexually as her bottom had squeezed it. Simultaneously she pulled Denni's shirt up, exposing the small firm breasts, and her fingertips found the broad velvet areola and the nipple as hard as a bead. Then she slid her hand down Denni's trousers, through the dense bristly hairs that were softened by moist excitement. She found the clitoris fully engorged and milked it swiftly, and immediately Denni's pleasure came, with Leah's other arm locked round her waist and Denni's tongue still captive in Leah's mouth.

  Leah then stripped Denni naked but the girl seemed shy of nudity. 'Let me touch you, and look at you properly,' Leah whispered. 'What's the matter?'

  'It's just that I'm not that used to girls.'

  Leah could not believe her ears. She cajoled Denni into allowing her to kiss her and to bring her to pleasure with her mouth. Afterwards they lay intertwined. In the simple intimacy of this contact, Leah slept contentedly.

  It was still dark when Denni woke her. 'We need to bathe quickly and get something to eat, then get you up to the furnaces. You mustn't keep the firemen waiting.'

  11

  Primal Thirst

  The furnaces stood in two parallel rows at the foot of the excavated hillside above the wharf and the stables. Staggered burnings took place day and night; by night the lower hill-slope seemed festooned with glowing broken teeth. While one furnace was alight another was being emptied and yet another was being filled with charcoal from the wharf-side heaps and ironstone and limestone from the hillside. Below the end of the lower row of furnaces stood a small brew-house, and at the door to the brew-house stood the two girls. Denni opened the door and urged Leah inside.

  A warm aromatic shroud of humidity enveloped Leah. Even the glazed brick floor was damp and warm to her naked feet. Denni drew her by the arm, past large wooden vats and barrels and pipework then barrows and buckets of sprouting grain.

  'Can you smell the malt?' Denni asked, scooping up a handful and offering it to Leah, who picked a grain and tasted it suspiciously. 'Good?' Denni asked.

  Suddenly there was a noise from above and a white-bearded, enquiring face appeared over the balcony. 'Beccanay!' Denni cried and the old man immediately dropped the wooden paddle he was holding and hurried open-armed down the rickety stairs. Denni ran to greet him, flinging her arms about him and kissing him with such intimate familiarity that Leah felt embarrassed. Finally the old man chided Denni softly: 'Enough now – my new assistant is hoisting grain.' He pointed up the stairs. 'You wouldn't want to make a young man jealous.' Then his pale blue gaze turned to Leah. 'And who is this gentle friend?'

  'I am Leah, my lord.'

  'Please – call me Beccanay.' He extended his hand; the skin felt warm and soft, the grip reassuring. 'I see you wear the token. Mind it not: in here, Leah, we have neither lords nor slaves; we are all honest workers, who treat as we find. I assume our gracious Gangmaster has sent you to assist?' He turned to Denni, who simply nodded. 'Good,' he said. 'We have a job for you. Wheel this barrel of beer up to the firemen on the terraces. Deneca will show you. And Deneca – no dallying up there. We don't want to incur our good Gangmaster's displeasure.'

  The barrel pivoted upright in a two-wheeled frame resembling a handcart. The girls each took a handle and Beccanay opened the double doors. Leah waited until they were out in the open before asking Denni: 'What did he mean, no dallying?'

  Denni looked back at Leah in silence. Then she turned and set off pulling the cart before finally whispering: 'The Gangmaster caught me with them once. He gets jealous.'

  'Does he . . . does he use you?' Denni didn't answer but her expression told that he did. But then there was the forward way she behaved towards Beccanay. Again, Leah wondered at this girl, here such a short time yet already appearing to court dalliance with one and all.

  They continued up the gently sloping track towards the furnaces. Then Leah risked an oblique remark about Beccanay.

  Denni was irked. 'Have you never done it with an old man, Leah?' Leah was obliged to admit that she had. Denni continued: 'Beccanay is a good man. I get pleasure with him and he makes no demands – he is nothing like the Gangmaster. I am a free girl and I go with Beccanay as and when I choose.'

  'But if you are a free girl, why put up with the Gangmaster?' Once again, Denni didn't answer but her expression was forlorn. Leah stopped and put her hand on Denni's.

  'No – it's all right,' Denni whispered. 'Come on.' They pressed on steadily up the track. Denni seemed to brighten as the clamour increased, but now Leah was growing anxious. She could see swiftly moving figures starkly silhouetted against the fiery glow, rods or shovels in their hands. Everyone was shouting. There were men working giant bellows that drove the heat. Every few seconds there was a roar and sheets of flame rose into the blackness. The air was filled with the smell of burning charcoal and hot metal. A figure was poking a rod into the mouth of the furnace at the far end; sparks were flying; then a fountain of molten metal erupted into a pit on the ground.

  'Here – put these on!' Denni shouted, handing Leah a pair of wooden clogs. 'Hot cinders. Be careful.' Once shod, the two girls continued their advance, Denni leading and Leah pushing the barrel from behind. They came to a standstill in the middle of the terrace. 'We can't go any closer – not on this level,' Denni shouted. Leah was thankful for this at least. The heat from the furnaces was like the burning sun on a cloudless day: she could feel it through the front of her shirt and her trousers; her face felt as if it was scorching. Yet her back felt cold. Most of the workers wore long aprons, with gloves and hats; some wore only loincloths and clogs. Denni's gaze was upon one particular group of these semi-naked men. Leah edged away as, in twos and threes, they started drifting over to the beer station and Denni began smoothing her hair.

  Leah stood back and watched the men chatting, filling their mugs and quaffing their beer. She thought she remembered one or two of them from the occasion of her punishment at the meal hall. Denni seemed to know several by name; she was laughing and talking freely with them. They kept looking over at Leah, then asking Denni something. Leah heard only fragments of what Denni answered – 'She's shy,' then later, 'Oh, yes – very much so,' and 'I'm sure she would if we . . .'

  Ears burning, Leah had no alternative but to approach and appear sociable, if only to curtail such talk. But first she drew Denni aside to admonish her. 'What were you saying about me?'

  'They've heard you're a runaway slave. They want to know what a sla
ve girl does, and what rights they, as free men, might hold over you – whether you can be held in common or whether you're like the paid girls that visit here each month. See, Leah – they are very polite. They ask first.'

  Denni's complicitous tone was making Leah very anxious. 'What did you tell them?' Leah whispered.

  'I told them to treat you as a free girl, with the right of choice and refusal.'

  'A free girl – like you?'

  'Just so, though far more attractive and loving.' Denni took Leah gently in her arms and kissed her in front of all the men, provoking some jeering but mostly sighs of approval. When Leah, with Denni's arms still round her, found the courage to look properly at the men, they did not seem quite so hostile as she had feared. One of them proffered his mug of beer, which she took with a smile of thanks and sipped.

  'She's a good one,' someone said. Then another: 'Did you see how she took that belting from the Gangmaster? That bastard!' And then: 'She's a tough one. She'd make a fire-girl, I'm betting.'

  Leah felt the emotion welling. She couldn't speak, beyond thanking them and smiling; she was content to listen and to let Denni do the talking. The men spoke of workaday things – problems with the firings and poor charcoal; they joked and complimented Denni on the drink. As Leah relaxed a little, she began to see what Denni found attractive in these men – some, at least. With the fire-glow reflecting from their sweat-glistened figures, they resembled the perfectly proportioned bronze statues she had once admired in the Abbey, except that these figures were living, breathing, warm and sentient. When she glanced across, Denni's eyes met hers with a knowing gaze.