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Chapter Three

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Ruth lowered her face, which was now flushed with a deep red. She dare not look up into Beatrice's eyes and see what expression was. Instead she only heard Beatrice say, "Get into the baths and clean yourself. I'll return shortly," before exiting the room. In truth Ruth was glad that Beatrice was gone.

She did as she was told and walked over to the bath that was simmering in wait for her. Ruth dipped her foot in it to make sure that it wasn't too hot. It wasn't. So she then slipped into its waters and sat down, her shoulders just barely floating above the watery surface. Ruth's eyes rolled back in her head. Whatever salts had been put into the water were wonderful. At once the hot waters cleansed her, loosening up the knots in her muscles and joints, taking some of the stress off of her head. The scent that the bathwaters radiated (jasmine) was magnificent.

It relaxed her, if only for a few minutes. Then Ruth started thinking again. Had she made a mistake coming here? Ruth was conscious now, completely so, of what kind of place this was. It was some kind of girl's brothel. The only difference from an actual brothel was that it didn't seem to cater to men (or for that matter, outsiders) at all. If that were the case then the women here were no better than prostitutes, one of societies greatest evils. But what did that make her, if she was here?

Ruth took up a sponge at the bath's edge to soap her lithe back. Now was the time to contemplate the vastness of the choice she'd made in coming here. She'd been desperate to get out of the moors, so much so that she hadn't even thought about the potential consequences of her actions. Now she was amongst poisonous, debauched women who took part in wicked sexual pastimes. What was worse was that one of those perverts had just now accosted her... and she had liked it.

It made Ruth sob.

Was she no more than a whore for enjoying that?

The girl finished up her bath in tears. By the time Beatrice had returned she was clad in a pale olive towel wrapped around her breasts and underneath her armpits. She had brushed her chestnut hair too and stood barefoot by the window looking out dejectedly into the manor gardens. As she turned she saw Beatrice at the door with a uniform dress, the same one that Nancy and the other girl had been wearing before.

"This is for you," Beatrice folded the uniform over one of the chairs. "When out of bed you are to wear it at all times unless told otherwise. Is that clear?"

Ruth nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Good. And from now on you are to refer to me as `Miss', just as the others do. Understood?"

"...Yes, Miss."

"Excellent," offered Beatrice. "Now get dressed."

It was a simple grey dress with a white sleeve pocket hanging from its waist, the kind a gaol matron or midwife might wear. Under Beatrice's eye Ruth slipped her teenage body into that gormless dress. After that they left the bathing room and Beatrice took Ruth on a whirlwind tour of Whistlethorn Manor. She was shown the kitchen and the pantry, the library, the bunk halls (where all the girls slept), and so on. Ruth was also shown places that she and everyone else were not allowed to go; namely the basement and the sixth floor, and most important of all, Cassandra's bedroom, which could only be entered with her express permission. Through all this Ruth learned much more about Whistlethorn Manor. For one thing there were, aside from herself, twenty nine girls living here. Not only that but Cassandra, Beatrice, and Mr. Whyte were the only adults. All of the girls took care of the chores by a rotational system -- they mended linen, cooked the meals, washed the crockery, cleaned the halls and so on and so forth.

By the time the tour was over it already noon -- lunchtime. Because of that Beatrice showed Ruth to the dining hall, where most of the other girls of Whistlethorn had congregated. They sat on twelve long wooden tables (which altogether could seat about hundred people) in sparsely separated groups. One or two of the girls circled those tables bringing with them hot meals. They proceeded to hand out those meals one by one. The hall was alive with light chatter, a bit of laughter, and the clattering of cutlery against dishware.

"Go sit down," Beatrice told Ruth by the chamber door. "A meal will be brought to you."

Ruth nodded. "Yes Miss."

She scanned the room for somewhere to sit. The girls here had already formed into `groups', those they spoke close to, Ruth had no idea where she'd fit amongst all of them. So she just scooted over to one of the empty tables and sat down. She exhaled in wait. Just across the room though she saw Beatrice, who, after speaking to one of the girls, left the room. When she was gone Ruth suddenly felt alone again. Why did she feel so... awkward?

"...Hello."

Ruth blinked and glanced up. Someone had called on her. A redheaded girl, about her own age, stood before her on the other side of the bench. She had a small but pleasant smile, a very warm one, that actually made Ruth feel more relaxed. So she smiled back as the girl sat down. Without even suggesting it Ruth knew that this girl had just extended an olive branch of friendship to her.

"You are the new girl, are you not?" She said.

Ruth at once noted the eloquence in her manner of speech. One or two of the girls here spoke with terrible gutter dialect, as if they were scrubbed up from the backend of a filthy Manchester street corner. This redhead was clearly not like that.

"You know of me?" Ruth wondered.

She shook her head. "No. Nancy... has been telling everyone that you're here. It has been some time since... someone new arrived at Whistlethorn Manor. It's nice to meet you. I'm Tess. Tess Sharpe."

"Ruth Whitley," she replied. "...Thank you for sitting with me."

Tess mentioned something about that not being much of a bother, just at the time when one of the other girls came to them with two plates in hand. One she put in front of Ruth and the other she put in front of Tess. The cutlery (and a white napkin) was already set out for them.

"Thanks." Said Tess to her, politely.

The girl nodded before returning to the head of the luncheon hall. The meal that had been offered to her made Ruth's literally mouth water. It consisted of thick cut slices of Cornish hen, honey-roasted potatoes, gravy-soaked Yorkshire pudding and steamed leeks, the kind of meal that Ruth imagined her town mayor ate perhaps once a week. This was the kind of thing that the Whistlethorn Maidens ate every single day? All of a sudden Ruth realized how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten in nearly three days and the effect of tiredness was telling on her. So she quickly got stuck in, woofing down every last scrap of meat, potato and vegetable in a very unladylike fashion, until little as much as a crumb and a smudge could be found on the plate. By the time her cutlery hit the plate Tess had barely started on her fowl.

She giggled. "You were... hungry?"

"...Very much so."

"I see," Tess paused a moment. "Are you an orphan too?"

The question was unexpected. Ruth's mood dampened again when she thought about her parents, about what had happened to them, about what she had done to them. Tess seemed to notice this change because she quickly backtracked.

"I-I-I am sorry," she stammered. "Perhaps I shouldn't have asked..."

Ruth shook her head. "No. No... it's okay. I just don't feel like speaking of them... not right now."

"I'll say no more about it."

"...Thank you, Tess."

The girl ate a bit more, cutting her potatoes into bits before nibbling on them. But she soon spoke up again. "It will be... hard."

Ruth blinked, not understanding.

So Ruth went on to clarify. "The first few days are always the hardest. But I'm sure that you will settle in, just as the others have."

Now Ruth was incredulous. This was a house of sin, she knew that from the moment Beatrice grappled her outside this morning. What was a sweet girl like Tess doing in such a place? Why would she even want to settle in? Didn't anyone here worry that God would punish them for what they were doing? Ruth clammed up, recalling what Beatrice had done to her less than two hours ago.

"I am sure you will be fine." Said Tess.

It was as she said this that shadows were cast over them. Ruth and Tess looked up. Three girls loomed over Tess' shoulder. All three of them were two or more years older than they were. And upon closer inspection Ruth noticed the one heading this group was Nancy, the girl whom had been cuddling up to Cassandra earlier. She brandished a callow scowl that was directed at no one but Ruth. The two girls behind her weren't quite as focused however. One of them was simply smiling in Nancy's wake whilst the other was staring lustily at Tess. The redhead seemed to shrink from that stare.

Ruth blinked. "Have we done something wrong...?"

"It has been a good long while," Nancy began. "since our last fledgling. I'll not say this twice. I am Lady Cassandra's favoured. The rest of you are little more than decorations. And I swear if you drive a wedge between she and I ... I shall make you bleed, you bitch."

Fire rose in Ruth's throat. What foul language! Who on earth did this girl think she was to talk to her like that? Why would she even think that Ruth would want to be with Cassandra? Being kissed by her once was more than enough! Despite her irritation and offence, Ruth knew that she was in no position to argue. Nancy seemed to be the dominant girl here at the manor, and she and her two cohorts were both taller than she and Tess. They could not be fought against. So Ruth put aside her indignation for rationality.

"My wish isn't to... come between you and your Lady," Ruth explained carefully. "I shan't be stepping on your toes."

Nancy pulled a contemptuous grin. "Yes. See to it that you don't."

After that Nancy and her two minions flapped away to their own table, three tables down. Both Ruth and Tess breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone. But Ruth was incredulous, and she voiced it when they were out of earshot.

"Who is that girl?" Ruth whispered. "What is her quarrel with me?"

Tess frowned. "She's Nancy Tointon. The girls with her are Molly Flanagan and Faye Higgs. If I were you I'd simply stay out of her way. She struck the last girl to enter Lady Cassandra's bed across the head with a ramrod. When anyone else even glances at Lady Cassandra she turns jealous and possessive. No one loves the Lady more than she."

"Well if she believes that I wish to lay with her, to do such things in this God-forsaken place, then she is quite mistaken."

Tess winced at that. "...You mightn't... have a choice, Ruth."

**********

Queenborough was truly a dwelling ground of ruffians and miscreants. You couldn't so much as step forward without spotting someone of that ilk. Now Mitchell was one of them. The ailing man staggered down the streets. Darkness had now settled over this fishing town and people were returning to their homes. The lights of lamp fire were lit in most windows he came across. He envied them. Them with their fire and their light. What did he have now? He was just lucky the police hadn't arrested him for his vagrancy yet.

Then Mitchell felt odd. A curious and chilling feeling seized over his body. His palms, the soles of his feet, his furrowed brow; all began to sweat and yet he felt utterly cold. He felt like he was freezing and yet his body was reacting as though it were on fire. Terrified and alarmed by this, Mitchell tottered around the bend of a closed bakery. It was an alleyway with only a stray mutt and some empty flour bags to occupy it. The curious feeling was now turning itself into a forthright pain. Mitchell slumped against the wall with thud whilst his eyes clamped shut and his dry throat coughed out a strangled cry. He groaned and thrashed in agony, his battered shoes scuffing the ground, grabbing himself around the shoulders.

It all came to a head when, unbeknownst to him, a bright emerald energy surrounded his body. In fact it was being emitted from him. This bottle green luminosity brightened the whole of the alleyway causing the rats and the sleeping mutt to scurry away from it. Mitchell yelled and shrieked in the centre of all that light until it became more focused. It lessened somewhat. Then it actually peeled itself from his ailing torso in the shape of a man. This `man of light' stepped naked from Mitchell and stopped in front of him, his `lips' curved into a cruel smile. Mitchell cracked open his eyes and stared, in cold fear, at the being in front of him. That man of light then himself began to metamorphose into a new form. His skin of bright green became a skin of a pale Caucasoid. His dome of a head sprouted a huge pelt of jet black hair that drooped all the way down to the crests of his buttocks like a lion's mane. Garments soon came to materialize around him; the exact same set of clothes that Mitchell was wearing, the only difference being that his weren't in tatters. The man of light had now become quite indistinguishable from another human being.

Mitchell was flabbergasted. "W-what are you?"

"A gift from Cassandra," spoke the entity in an ethereal voice. "You may refer to me as Gazer."

"Gazer?"

Gazer, as he called himself, snickered. "A poor little wraith, a manifest form of your hate and resentment borne from the slight of Cassandra's curse. But the true goal of the broadside? Oh I think you already know."

Mitchell, who was now sweating profusely, inched away. "...I am... not afraid of you..."

"Truly?" Gazer opened his right hand and the dark alleyway was illuminated once again when a surging ball of fire encircled it. But it was an unusual fire, for its tongues were coloured a deep black. Gazer lifted his ebony-flame-swallowed hand menacingly. "But then... would it even matter if you were? Heh. Fool. Take this message with you to the afterlife. The girl is ours now..."

All the options scuttled through Mitchell's brain as his eyes darted around for an exit. Gazer was blocking the way he'd come in. Further back the alleyway was sealed by a butcher shop wall. There was no way out. Gazer's smirk deepened. He could see what Mitchell was thinking and he could read his expressions -- the man was trapped and he knew it. All that was left was for Gazer to kill him. When the spectral entity pulled back his flaming arm to strike, Mitchell shut his eyes tight to await the killing blow. But he felt no blow. His dull blue eyes opened up again and then they widened when they saw Gazer's hand frozen in place. The being quivered on the spot, held down by a force not visible to the naked eye. Then Mitchell glanced at the mouth of the alleyway. Someone else was standing there. A priest.

"...Vile monster..." uttered this unknown man of the cloth, his hand outstretched. "You will stop your madness this instant... and return to the depths of the dim abyss from whence you came!"

Gazer could not move. When he tried to shunt his hand back, the ebony flames around them dissipated into nothingness. Mitchell, astounded, watched the black embers fall to the floor, while Gazer was held in check by... whatever it was that this mysterious priest had done. But it was not over. The now angered Gazer snarled before breaking his other hand free of the noble priest's sightless grip. That hand surrounded itself with more black fire that Gazer hurled back at the cleric. But this man of God did not flinch and the nocturne fireball crashed into something -- another invisible force -- this one shielding the priest's body. Both Gazer and the weaker Mitchell were left gob-smacked as the dark ball of flame dispersed into sparkling black residue.

"Your pyromancy shan't be effective against me," the priest uttered, frowning. " By the power of the Almighty Lord and the wonder of his kingdom, banish this evil creature to oblivion!"

Suddenly the skin that Gazer had gained started to dry and peel like old chips of paint. It fell from his body like rain until the pure green light of malevolence lingering beneath the surface, the same light that had produced him, was revealed. Then in a flash that light dissolved. After he looked away briefly to stop himself from being blinded, Mitchell looked back and saw that being known as `Gazer' was gone. The priest who had rescued him lowered his hand before walking to Mitchell and asking calmly,

"Are you alright?"

The blonde man blinked. "W-what on Earth is going on? Who are you?"

"My name is Edmund Cotton," said the priest. "I believe we should speak."

**********

The rest of the day proceeded as it would for most of her time there. Once she and Tess had finished eating they were required to perform chores. Since Ruth was new here and hadn't anything in the way of a schedule yet, she was told only to muck in with Tess and follow the redhead's lead for the time being. That meant washing some of the dresses and hanging them out to dry on the washing line behind the kitchen for a few hours. It was standard menial stuff that she was already fairly familiar with. She'd had to do such things back home and it was of course no different here.

After that she was sent with Tess to dust down a particular corridor of the mansion. They took dusters and buffed away filth from the walls, ornaments, paintings, urns, pots and statuettes that had been accumulated there. This too was easy work. In fact Ruth found it a pleasant distraction from some of the darker realities behind Whistlethorn Manor's doors. This line of action proceeded until the early evening, around six o'clock, when all the girls were once more assembled to the luncheon hall, this time for supper. Ruth and Tess, who were becoming fast friends, sat with each other again. They were offered bowls of porridge this time, with a little bit of jam on the side. It was surprisingly appetizing.

For the next three hours they were given free time. Some of the girl's went to the library to read, others went out into the fields to play (even though it was now night out), a few even went to the stables to feed the horses as recreation. However a bell was rung at quarter past nine. It was the evening bell. All the girls were expected to be in bed by nine-thirty. Ruth and Tess and all the others rushed to the bunk halls where they all slept. All the beds were single, arranged in two rows, one row lined against the upper wall and the other against the back wall. Nancy was lucky enough to get the bed next to Tess'. Waiting for them there were nightgowns. All the girls dressed into them (so Ruth followed suit) before climbing into bed. All bedside candles were blown out and so they descended silently into sleep.

Of all the girls Ruth was the most tired. She hadn't slept since that awful night in Roehaven Chapel, where she had first been found by Mr. Whyte. But she had always been something of a light sleeper. So when she heard rustling, rustling loud enough to be heard by her but not by any of the others she groggily turned in her sheets to see what was going on.

It was dark and her vision was fuzzy so she couldn't see properly, but she saw two girls from the other side of the room climb out of their sheets and creep towards Tess' bed. From what little she could make out it was the two girls that had been flanking Nancy earlier, Molly and Faye. As soon as they came to Tess' bed they took positions, Molly at the lower left side and Faye at the upper right one. Ruth sleepily saw them yank Tess' blanket from her, revealing the redhead underneath, waking her up. She gasped. Before she could utter another word Faye stuffed her mouth with something she'd been carrying in her hand, a washcloth. It muffled Tess' startled groans quite effectively. Once she was unable to speak or protest Faye grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them down either side of her head. Tess' bright blue eyes widened with alarm when a grinning Molly climbed onto her bed to straddle her by the waist. Molly then threw one of her legs over Tess' thighs so that she was sat upon her groin area. Tess tried in vain to wriggle free, but with Molly straddling her and Faye holding her wrists down, it was no use.

Molly leaned over Tess', her eyes burning with lust. " D'you think you could pal up with that one over there and I wouldn't bloody notice? D'you think I ain't seen you with her?"

Molly's voice was rough and her gruff London accent reeked of working-class stagnation. Tess stared up at her with frightened eyes and tried to say something in reply but couldn't, because of the cloth that Faye had stuck in her mouth. It came out as some kind of desperate cry that simpered into a groan.

"You ain't hers, alright?" Molly growled. "You're mine, and I ain't gonna let you forget about it, neither...!"

Tess whimpered something but it still wasn't audible. She could only wiggle around helplessly as Molly took to the buttons of her nightdress and started undoing them. One after the other she popped them out of their slips until she could yank its bodice open. Tess gasped. Molly and Faye completely palpitated at the sight. The redhead's tits sprung free with a bounce. They were slightly larger than most girls her age but were firm, firmer than a costermonger's apple. Her pale beige aureoles were wide and her stiffening nipples were equally as appealing. Both Molly and Faye gleefully watched how they jiggled as Tess tried to struggle free of their grip.

Ruth watched, unsure if it was really happening or not, as Molly leaned down over Tess' pert right mound and licked her lips. She whispered, "You're so pretty, Tess..." before opening her mouth and sucking its nub. Tess tensed, groaning, just as Faye leaned over the other side of her body and took her left nipple into her mouth. The redheaded one emitted muffled cries that murmured across the room but everyone else was asleep. In the darkness both Faye and Molly suckled her, as newborns would to a mother, and it made her writhe harder on the bed. From time to time she'd lift her head to glance wide-eyed at the two bullies sucking her only to drop her head back onto her pillow.

They sucked and licked, adding slurping noises to a quiet room in which only a bit of snoring and Tess' muffled moans could be heard. Molly however seemed to apply herself with a bit more force, working her lips around Tess' rigid right nipple harder and faster. Occasionally she would bite down on it, making Tess whimper. Other times she would bite it softly then pull up to see how far it could stretch before it slipped free of her blunt teeth. All the while Molly kept her eyes on Tess' face, watching it contort, watching her eyebrows as they arched upward, her nostrils as they flared, and her cheeks as they blushed a ferocious red.

Faye on the other hand, was less precise, less demanding. When she wasn't sucking Tess' other nipple she was flicking at it with her tongue, savouring its rubbery texture while her hands continued to pin down Tess' own. As the minutes dragged on though, Tess' abused tit slipped free from Molly's mouth with a slurp. The nipple of it was stiffer than it ever had been and was riddled with teeth marks. It had been drenched in Molly's saliva, which ran down Tess' proportionately breast and dribbled into the cleft of her cleavage in drips. Because of her heavy breathing they heaved up and down.

Tess pulled her head up again to stare at her with desperate eyes, but it was met only with Molly's intractable grin, one of entitlement and possession. It must have settled in Tess' mind then that Molly wasn't going to stop because very soon after that she stopped trying to wiggle free. Her nubile body stopped writhing and, there seemed to be a wordless consensus between the three about who was in control here (though Faye did not release her wrists). Tess was still shaking like a leaf however. Even more so when Molly climbed down her body to the lower half of the bed. She looked up again briefly and shook her head from side to side, whipping her strawberry blonde tresses around her face, moaning something that sounded like `no'. Molly only snickered at that as she descended the length of Tess' body. Faye on the other hand kept on at her right nipple, running her tongue around it in circles.

A lethargic Ruth observed as Molly did something odd -- at least in her eyes -- that again made her question if this was really happening. What she saw was Molly, after tucking a lock of her jaw-length black hair behind her ear, stuck her head and upper body underneath the skirt of Tess' nightgown. She watched the outline of Molly's head move inside the dress until it came to the area where the skirt met the bodice. There was a pause and Tess trembled hard as if she was expecting something.

Then it happened.

Tess' torso jerked, hard enough to rattle the bed. Her back arched, her hands (still held down) clutched into fists, her toes curled up and grabbed the bed linen beneath her in bunches. Her throat trembled when she groaned more fiercely than she'd done before, loudly and far more prominently, though clearly not of her own volition. Faye tightened her grip around Tess' wrists and struggled to keep her nipple in her mouth while she jerked like that. But it seemed like she couldn't control her reaction. Tess' neck cranked back and her eyes scrunched shut. Her loud groans were now joined by a heavy panting. The springs of the mattress underneath her were rankling.

At the lower half of Tess' body, below the folds of her dress, Molly's head bobbed up and down. From what little Ruth thought she was seeing she couldn't really tell what it was that Molly was doing, but whatever it was, it was having a tremendous effect on Tess. The more Molly performed her unknowable ministrations the more Tess reacted to it. Her little hands kept clenching and unclenching, her eyes (when she opened them) rolled back into her skull as if in delirium, her feet arched and poked at the bed linen, ruffling it. While one of Molly's hands did its best to hold Tess' thigh down, her other hand snaked up and groped at Tess' free breast, the one she been sucking at before. She rubbed and squeezed the tit even as her head continued bouncing up and down inside Tess' nightgown.

This went on for minutes until Tess bellowed out muffled, almost angry, sobs and thrust her hips up. Faye was forced to break her suckling of her right nipple, by now it was slathered with hot spittle and enamoured with bites. This didn't seem to be the redhead's concern however. Her wet tits bounced on her chest as she collapsed back onto the bed and . Her body slackened and Tess' once viscous cries slowed into raged breaths and gasps, reverberating in the darkness of the bunk hall.

Faye, grinning, watched as Molly pulled her head from underneath the skirt of Tess' dress. There was liquid smeared all over her face. It was thicker than water but thinner than a sauce. Ruth blinked, not sure what was going on, and noticed too that Molly's cheeks were puckered a bit, as if she had a mouthful of something. She climbed back up the breathless Tess' body and tore the cloth out of her mouth. Before Tess even had the chance to gasp for air Molly thrust down and kissed her -- hard. Harder than Ruth had ever seen anyone be kissed before. It was open-mouthed and forceful, demanding, with Molly holding both of Tess' enflamed cheeks. The girl in her grasp whimpered in protest but was still unable to resist. Then Ruth noticed a trail of something leak from their conjoined mouths. Again it looked to thick to be saliva. It oozed all the way down the side of Tess' face in trail until it dripped onto the bed linen in little plops. Moments later the kiss was broken and Molly's long, sticky tongue slithered out of Tess' gaping mouth.

"...Swallow it." Commanded the Londoner.

Ruth didn't know what `it' was but she witnessed a humiliated and chastened Tess gulp. Molly grinned with glee as a lump moved down her throat and was ingested. Tess could only look up now with another pleading glance. But the look on Molly's face said that this wasn't over yet. On the contrary. The very next thing Molly did was unbutton her nightgown, cross her arms around the hemline, then pull it off. It was tossed to the floor and it left Molly naked on top of Tess.

To see her, no one could deny that Molly was a beautiful girl. Though she was slightly older than Tess her breasts were visibly smaller, she had a kind of flat, `triangular' arse, and lightly tanned skin as opposed to Tess' milky, freckled own. By now Molly's nipples were as stiffened as Tess' were. And at the lips of her almost hairless sex Ruth saw a wetness. It glistened in the moonlight coming through the upper windows. It was similar to the wetness that Molly's face (and by consequence of their kiss, Tess' lips) was now smothered in. Faye released Tess' hands and as soon as she did Molly took them and pulled them sideways. After that she pressed both her legs down on them, left leg on left wrist and right leg on right wrist, pinning Tess in place once again but keeping Molly's hands free in the process. But perhaps more significantly, this placed Molly's dripping vulva just a short few centimetres above Tess' face.

Because things had slowed down since Molly had pulled her head up from Tess' dress, neither Ruth nor Tess herself expected it when the London girl swiftly pushed her hips forward and smothered her redheaded toy's face with her crotch. Tess sobbed aloud and uncomfortably as Molly began humping at her face. Those sobs were much clearer now that the cloth was gone. And Ruth could no longer see Tess' face as Molly's rushing hips blocked it from view. The older girl rocked back and forth, unaware that Ruth was (or at least thought she was) seeing this. Molly's head lulled back, her body arched, jutting out her chest, and slowly she moaned with uncharacteristic femininity. While she rode Tess' face and mouth she reached up and plucked at her own nipples, teasing them. She slipped her eyes shut and let herself bask in feelings that were clearly very pleasurable. Tess on the other hand could only hang on for dear life. She struggled to keep up. Her body writhed again but more out of frustration this time.

Meanwhile Faye, still dressed, was at the lower end of Tess' bed. She now grabbed the girl's skirt and pushed it up until it was bunched around her waist, leaving the lower half of her body naked. With the moonlight glow Ruth saw how messy Tess' crotch was. Her bald slit was soggy with discharge, as were her thighs, which had been splattered with it. There were also damp patches on the bed linen too. Faye seemed to relish this. She lowered her head to Tess' most private of areas and licked at all that moisture. Her tongue ran up her upper legs, her thighs, the lips of her womanhood, all over. It made Tess shake.

Then Molly's own breathing became ragged. Her grinding quickened in pace until she hit some kind of peak. The Londoner's body went firm after one final thrust, and she bit down upon her lip to quash her screams. All of a sudden Ruth saw liquids fleetingly burst from her sex and splash a wincing Tess in the face, causing her to cough and hack. Molly rode down the last of her climax, shivering with delight. After one long and luxurious sigh she lifted her legs off of Tess to dismount her. The younger girl was left an immobile mass. Yet it still wasn't over. When she looked up again she spotted Faye now, crawling up the bed. She bunched up the skirt of her own nightgown and positioned herself just as Molly had done.

Faye turned to Molly. "May I?"

"Yeah."

With Molly's permission Faye lowered herself onto Tess' already soaked face. Once again Tess was forced to open her mouth and endure whilst someone else rode her face that night. Faye however was less forceful than Molly was and moved slowly, luxuriously, hoping to eek out the most of it. The assault endured even longer, stretching close to nine minutes, before Faye tightened up in pleasure and exploded over her victim. However because Tess had been positioned to lick Faye rather than simply having her face ridden, she was forced to drink all that vaginal discharge between breaths.

By now Molly had redressed in her nightgown. Faye climbed off Tess and pulled the skirt of her own back down with a victorious glow, and scuttled back to bed. Molly then stole one last sloppy kiss from her inert toy before jogging back to her own bed and climbing under the covers. Tess was left limp on her bed. Her face was smudged with Molly's cum and red from her hip-fucking. Her skirt was still yanked up around her waist. Her bodice was still open, brandishing her more than abused tits, which were still chewed and soaked with saliva. The bed she was in now reeked of arousal. Despite that, the now weakened girl slowly pulled her skirt down and tried in vain to sleep on her soiled, dampened bed linen.

When it was over Ruth rolled onto her back; wide-eyed, stunned, and terrified. But what was worse? What was worse was heat and damp she felt at her loins as she watched it all...

**********

Afterthoughts

* Off the top of my head I think this is the first sex scene I've written with more than one person involved. Well, you know, whatever. Tell me what you think, assuming you want to. ^_^

* Many thanks to those who have given me feedback thus far. Always a pleasure and its the easiest way to get me writing faster, I think.