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Chapter Five

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For the next two weeks Ruth found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the shadowy world, all of itself, known as Whistlethorn Manor. The days proceeded much like they had done from what little she'd seen thus far. The girls would be awoken in the morning, take turns in the bath hall, then eat breakfast. After that they would return to their cyclical chores, some days she helped cook meals and other days she helped wash and dry linen. Then came lunch at high noon. Then back to chores. Then later on supper. Then the girls were given a few hours to themselves at the later afternoon, until night hit, when they were all summoned to their bed sides by the bell tower. Then they would sleep and the following day the same monotonous process would repeat itself.

Things generally played out in this fashion. And if that were the case ALL the time, then Ruth would have had no problem with it. However there was a seedier, darker tone to the proceedings, one on made itself appear every once and a while. For one thing there were Cassandra's enigmatic sermons. Every Sunday the villagers would come out of their hobbles in Roehaven to hear her speak about the evils of the Empire, how the world would come to a grim end in the coming centuries, and that the only being that could save us from that fate was a deity that they all worshipped -- a being known as Gaeladria.

Cassandra professed that Gaeladria was a being of 'true oneness with the Earth' and that she had gained all of her powers from its bounty. However Gaeladria was very weakened from centuries of absolute slumber and required zeal from her followers to 'rejuvenate' her. Ruth at first didn't know what to make of it all. On the one hand all these people struck her as crazed heathens and Cassandra (along with her false goddess) was their puppet master. But on the other she was consistent in her knowledge of the Bible. It was said in the Book of Revelation that terrible monsters would arise from the earth and sea toward the day of judgement and would be worshipped by the simple-minded before their destruction. Was Gaeladria naught but a manifestation of that evil? Ruth wondered. But deeper than that she wondered what the role of the girls were in all this. Cassandra did seem to have a taste for young maidens. Much to Nancy's ire she often courted some of the maidens into her bed at random times throughout the weeks. Her only consolation was that Nancy was one most often called for that task. But it did strike Ruth as odd that Cassandra would have so many playthings at hand and yet only call on them once so often. When she was first kissed by Cassandra she imagined the woman to be of gluttonous appetite for young maidens. It became clear after a while that her lusts were more focused and localized than one might have first imagined.

There was a mystery here that Ruth actually felt herself curious of... up to a point. One day all that curiosity collapsed. That day was today.

At the time she was in the back gardens of the manor. Tess and a few other girls were with her. Together they filled large buckets of water and washed the nightgowns and day dresses that the other girls brought to them for cleaning. When most were washed they were handed to Ruth and to Tess, who brought the clothing to the washing lines and hung them to dry.

"It looks like it will be a wonderful day today," Tess said, starting up at the crystal blue skies as she folded another dress over the line. She was in higher spirits that she had been before. "I should think that we are owed a good summer this year."

Ruth smiled at her. Over the past few weeks Tess had quickly become her best friend, a kind of surrogate sister. The redhead had been nice enough to look after her and support her in the ways of the Whistlethorn Maidens, how to do certain things, how to wash and to clean as they were all intended to. Their friendship constantly invoked jealousy on Molly's part. In fact the crude Londoner was often colder to Ruth than even Nancy was; but Tess said oft enough that she would 'pacify' Molly. Ruth had no idea what that meant but any time Molly came to them with envy, Tess took her away somewhere. Whatever she said or did worked, for when she returned Molly was calm and placated, with somewhat blissful smiles on her face. Though to look at Tess, who returned flushed and sweaty, you could tell that she wasn't as proud of it. It didn't happen often but it allowed Ruth to have a friend without interruptions.

"Yes," Ruth replied. "Last summer wasn't quite so grand."

Then the kitchen door swung open. Ruth and Tess looked back to see what was going on. One of the other girl's emerged wearing a cooking apron, her face smudged with flour and came up to Ruth.

"Fledgling," she uttered. "Once you're finished hanging that linen you'll need to take up the cleaning duties of Miss Beatrice's living quarters. The girl who usually does it has come down with a fever and she hasn't the strength."

Ruth exhaled. "Why must I be the one to do it?"

"Don't argue, fledgling, simply do as you're told." The girl had a contemptuous smirk as she said that one. Soon after that she retreated to the kitchen to continue her preparations for lunch at noon.

Once she was gone Ruth barked, "Who is she to tell me to do these things?"

"You are new to the manor," Tess explained. "Newer girls are always expected to do the brunt of the work. They burden you with it because they know that they have the licence to. It is best to simply do as we're told."

Though she didn't like it she agreed that she had no choice. One thing Ruth often made sure of, even though much of what she saw here disgusted her, was that she didn't ruffle anyone's feathers. In her mind it was a short step from that to having someone belittle her to one of the three adults, Cassandra, Beatrice or Mr. Whyte, and then them agreeing to throw her out. It would be disastrous if that did happen -- she'd nowhere else to go.

So Ruth did what was asked of her. As soon as she finished hanging up clothes with Tess she left the rear garden, walked through the kitchen into the manor and scaled a few staircases up to the third floor. Beatrice's chambers were at the end of the conjoining corridor. Ruth twisted its knob and stepped inside, the instep of her shoes clicking against its varnish floorboards. She could not help but gaze around when she entered. Beatrice's quarters was not inexplicably grandiose. It held only a table, a bed (that incidentally was large enough to hold two), a few chairs, and an oaken wardrobe. There were no paintings or ornaments around -- just those typical things.

For some reason Ruth expected more. No matter.

The cleaning instruments, a feather duster and a rag, had been left out for her on Beatrice's circular table. She took up the duster and started cleaning the place from top to bottom, buffing dust off every surface and out of every nook. After doing the room proper (and the furniture within it) Ruth was left with the two closet spaces. Ruth chose the one on the right and when she dusted off its door she opened it to clean the inside. It was a larger space than she would have expected, big enough to lie down in, but was almost empty aside from dusty pile of old books and a spare chair. Ruth busied herself with the cleaning of those things as well as the cupboard itself.

Then, only a short few moments later, she heard the door click open then slam shut again, a sound accompanied by the steps of at least four feet. Because the closet door was slightly ajar Ruth could see into the room. When she did look she saw Beatrice walk in with a young maiden about Ruth's own age, fifteen, maybe sixteen. Once again Ruth was cast head-first into the ocean of sins that Whistlethorn Manor was made of -- for the next thing she saw was Beatrice, grabbing the young girl's cheeks, leaning down, then kissing her with a fiery passion that Ruth had scarcely seen before coming here.

As their lips were crushed together the girl heaved a prolonged, breathless sigh. Ruth saw her jewel blue eyes slip shut and her small hands eagerly reach up and spread themselves over Beatrice's back. Because of their height difference the girl had to stand on her tippy-toes just to be kissed but she seemed to take no qualm in that. She simply tilted her head to one side, splashing her lengthy flaxen hair across her left shoulder, and moaned her approval. It was a short time before Beatrice became more tactile. Her large, bullish hands soon skimmed down from the girl's rosy cheeks, down the length of her swan-like neck, then over her tiny fabric-encased shoulders then over to her back. Beatrice's hands proceeded down that girl's back until they were poised to seize her arse. The blonde girl squealed into their kiss when her older lover enthusiastically squeezed the globes of her behind. Her hands were so all encompassing that she could do so completely. With her hands locked there Beatrice pulled the blonde girl closer to her. Their breasts were flattered against each other, as were their stomachs, and as a result the girl wrapped her thin arms around Beatrice's neck in the most romantic way possible. It made her sigh harder, that closeness. She relished it. Which was why she was quick to whimper in disapproval when Beatrice broke their kiss.

"...Miss...? Please..." she begged frailly. "It's been more than three weeks since we last..."

Beatrice's hands were still cupping the girl's bottom. "I know. I know, Leah, I know. It shan't be easy from now on. Gaeladria's reawakening is not far and Lady Cassandra needs everything to be ready for that night."

"Every night, I... struggle not to touch myself from thinking of you... of your body, your voice, your caress..." Leah looked up at the taller woman pleadingly. "I quake for you...! If I am to spend one more night outside of your bed I shall die! I swear I shall...!"

"Hush now," Beatrice said huskily, kissing her forehead. "I am here."

"Please, Miss Beatrice... please make me yours again..."

There seemed to be a connection between them. That was what Ruth deduced as she stood silently in the cupboard space watching this. Lady Cassandra had her favourite, apparently so did Beatrice. And that was this blonde girl, Leah, as she was called. Ruth pressed her hand into her chest and tried to calm her breathing, which for some reason had become elevated. It did not work. In fact her breathing became more ragged when she watched Leah reluctantly pull herself from Beatrice's arms to get something from the second closet space across the way. That one strangely enough was not empty. It was encumbered with items the likes of which poor young Ruth couldn't yet understand; including belts, whips, chains, spiked collars, rubber masks, etc. But the one thing Beth did take out was the one thing that had Ruth most confused as she spied on them.

It was a smooth and broad shaft of lacquered oak which had been carved into the shape of a man's penis. The shaft was about 7&1/2 inches in length and was as thick as a child's wrist. Off its end hung the three straps of a leather harness. Ruth's eyes widened into saucers when Leah came to Beatrice with that striking thing in hand. "What on earth is that intended for?" she couldn't help but wonder.

Much to her knowledge she was going to get a first hand glance at that phallus' use. Leah, at that point, set the weapon down upon the sheets of Beatrice's bed and took her hands to the older woman's clothing. With a long, sensual smile she slowly pulled off Beatrice's overcoat, then undid the buttons of her shirt, causing her lady's breasts to bounce free of its restraint. It was then that Leah went to the belt Beatrice's trousers and slipped its lizard-like tongue from the buckle. The loss caused the brown-coloured trousers to slump around her thickened ankles in a pile. Leah helped Beatrice step out of them, as well as the cotton of her underwear. This left her utterly naked, boasting her lofty, muscular physique. Everything about her spoke of a strength; her broad shoulders, her terse abdomen, shapely thighs and so on and so forth. It was no illusion that Beatrice was as powerful and domineering as any man could be. Both Ruth and Leah were in awe of her then, but it was Leah whose feelings surged stronger than a simplistic admiration.

That was made clear by the way her fingertips moved over Beatrice's nakedness. Every touch was a soft and probing one, as if experiencing this woman's body for the first time. She did this for only a few moments however. The next thing she had her sights on was the item she had taken from Beatrice's other cubby-hole. Leah brought the harness up to Beatrice's crotch and worked its straps, two around her hips, and buckled them fast at her back, whilst the third she pulled between Beatrice's thighs and up between the crests of the older woman's arse, so that all three straps could be fastened together. With that the phallic shaft of wood stood proud and erect before Leah. The girl smiled at it with glee, then turned that smile up to Beatrice, before her hand grasped it.

Ruth watched this with guilty fascination. She saw Leah take to the rod with a loose grip that she used to leisurely slide her hand up and down it. Leah kept the blue of her eyes on Beatrice whilst doing this, her hand moved up to the carved mushroom 'head' of the phallus before it descended along the wood down to its base. With her free hand she stroked the rigid muscles of Beatrice's left leg. These weren't actions to stimulate but rather to tease. Leah's playful smile and Beatrice's expectant gaze said as much.

Then for Ruth things became more perverse. Beatrice gestured to her younger lover with a nod down. Leah nodded back then ceased her stroke of the wooden penis. She replaced her hand with her mouth. Ruth recoiled at the sight. She saw Leah take her pinkish lips to the head of Beatrice's phallus and encircle it. Her cheeks widened and her little mouth formed a small 'O' shape around it. She paused there and held only its head for a moment, giving it a little kiss that made Ruth quiver with something indescribable, right before Leah widened her lips and pushed her mouth down its length. Leah's lips visibly slid halfway down the shaft before they slowly rose up again. This eventually became the gushing, slippery rhythm of her actions. Leah's head soon started moving back and forth with concerted application upon the oaken penis.

What was once a kiss was now a 'sucking'. The more she did this, the more her lips spread over the shine of the wooden cock; the more she spread her saliva over it, making it slack and slick to the mouth. This in turn made Leah's sucking of it easier. She quite soon picked up speed as a result of that -- and her corn blonde hair writhed at her shoulders as she caused the rod to jut in and out of her throat. All through this Beatrice remained firm and still, like one of the stone gargoyles mounted on the roofing of the manor, strong and stern and silent. All she happened to do at that point was look down at Leah while she performed her duties. But Beatrice marvelled at the way Leah looked then -- cheeks drawn in and flushed red, innocent eyes wide and expectant, her hair thrown around her face, her lips slick with her own saliva. Was there a single more seraphic sight in all the world?

Leah now sucked Beatrice's phallus with ease. Both of her hands were now rested on the older women's thighs to better support herself for the act. The scent of sex was beginning to waft into the room (unbeknownst to Ruth that included herself -- but she was too captivated and disgusted by what she was seeing to notice it) and the sloppy sounds of sucking were heard clear. Then they saw Beatrice move. She reached down and set her hands on Leah's shoulders to pause her. The phallus slipped out of her throat with a slurp. Leah set herself back, a thick trail of drool extending from her lips to its head. It broke when Beatrice pulled the girl to her feet and passionately compressed their lips together. Leah moaned, held in Beatrice's thrall, and felt the wet tip of the wooden cock poke her upper abdomen. She did not seem to mind that much.

"I cannot wait any longer...," Leah murmured, at their breathless parting of lips, "...Please take me..."

It seemed to be all she needed to say. Beatrice gestured toward the bed. As a result Leah took off her manor gown, her under-linen, and her shoes, until she was stripped bare of any and all clothing. Leah shyly smiled at her lover before crawling onto her bed. She positioned herself on all fours. Her blonde tresses poured over her shoulders and hung, along with her developing breasts, in the air beneath her. She had her head facing the headboard and the wall, just above the pillows. It seemed to be the ideal position for Beatrice as she crawled onto the bed herself and positioned herself behind the girl's rear end.

Ruth, so enraptured and horrified by all this that she was failing to notice her own arousal, saw Beatrice' guide the head of her glossy wood to the soppy wet folds of Leah's womanhood. It all clicked into place then. She had been oblivious to sexual practices all of her short life. In fact the closest she'd even come to anything of the sort was kissing a boy after her lessons at church one Sunday afternoon, long ago. That was a dim memory in comparison to the sin and covetousness she was currently witnessing. She knew now what that wooden cock was for, it staggered her that she hadn't realized it earlier. Beatrice intended to seize herself into Leah's snatch in the same fashion a man would -- with that tool suspended from her hips. What a dreadful practice! Simulating manhood like this, and this unbidden sexuality between women was appalling! Yet despite that Ruth found that she was unable to look away. She wanted to, she wanted to say to herself that this was revolting ungodliness he was being subjected to. But the more she saw the more she felt the need to see more. What was wrong with her? What had she been afflicted with since her arrival at Whistlethorn, that made her turn so foul and so deviant?

All her questions were, however, briefly cast aside. When she saw Leah tense up Ruth couldn't stop herself from watching further. Beatrice's mighty frame was now kneeling behind Leah. One of vein-encumbered her hands was pressed onto Beth's back. It stroked over her downy skin to soothe and relax her while the other hand guided her cock's head to the girl's moist sex. There was a slow push. Leah grabbed fistfuls of the sheets as its mushroom-shaped head slipped beyond her lower lips and delved into the hot, wet, contracting flesh of her vagina. Ruth observed the oaken phallus disappear into it. And every inch Ruth didn't see was another inch that Leah felt. As a result Leah screamed blissfully. Her head flopped backward and her back arched when Beatrice' wood, smeared with her oral juices, plunged into her most sacred of all cavities. Beatrice thrust every inch of its seven and a half inches into her -- the telling sound of that being the first slap of her hips against Leah's apple-shaped arse.

Leah lowered her head. Her scream collapsed into a paced but heavy panting. Beatrice held still for a moment, her legs and hips sandwiched against Leah's own, and leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck. As she dropped soft butterfly kisses up and down the girl's neck she heard Leah groan with pleasure, tightening her grips of the bed linen. Then Beatrice leaned up once again, though this time she moved her sizeable, man-like hands to Leah's small hips. After she steadied herself a moment Beatrice pulled out slightly. Leah moaned lustily and Ruth saw incredulously the shaft emerging from her vagina again. Because of the way Leah's pussy walls clamped down on it, it was pulled out very slowly, but there was a telling and motivating dampness over it now, a moisture that was thicker than Leah's mere saliva. It was now coated with her premature discharge. Ruth obliviously marvelled at how Leah's damp love juices had lathered up the wood, making it sparkle in the vivid Yorkshire morning light beamed through the window. It made those juices look all the more precious.

Subsequently Beatrice pushed in again. Then out. Then in. Then out. The process continued until it turned into a stable and concise fucking. Beatrice drew out about two thirds of her phallus before pushing back into Leah's hot opening with a jerk of her hips. It jutted in and out of her without restraint or friction, the greasy mixture of Leah's spittle and vaginal secretions had seen to that. Leah scrunched her blue eyes shut once again. Her face contorted with bliss, her nostrils and mouth wide open. Each time Beatrice's hips smacked her arse and thrust the cock into her centre, Leah juddered and groaned. As the fucking steadied into a precise rhythm so to did her lusty grunts.

"...Ugh... ugh... ugh... ugh..." she panted, each time the phallus' length was driven into her. The strength of it caused Leah's whole body to jerk at each strike, when Beatrice fucked her, her torso pitched forward. Her tits flopped back and forth underneath her. Her blonde hair was tossed around her shoulders and skull. All the while her arse cheeks grew reddened by the constant and continuous slapping of Beatrice's hips against them. Every quaking feeling made Leah visibly hunger for more. She soon met her older woman's thrusts with a reciprocal humping -- she pushed her body back against the dildo as it battered her to fully meet with it, to feel what she deemed to be her lover as deep inside her as possible. This made her pant and moan harder than ever. Her efforts however were nothing compared to what Beatrice was doing to her. The masculine steward's plunges were so hard and efficient that she appeared almost mechanical, like a piston shovelling into and out of a metal hollow with continually rigorous vigour.

The atmosphere of the room was now dominated by what was happening on the bed. All the sounds pounded Ruth's senses -- the slap of Beatrice's hips against Leah's bottom, the slobber of Leah's wet sex as the wooden shaft skewered it, the creaks of the mattress underneath the assault, the clattering of the headboard against the wall as the bed trembled, Leah's screams of joy as she was taken, and Beatrice's solid grunts of exertion.

Leah, her arms too weak now to support herself on them anymore, lowered her head to the pillows and smothered her giddy groans into them. She folded her arms underneath her chest at the same time. Even as Beatrice continued to fuck her, her body moving back and forth, she managed to grab both of her breasts and grope herself -- tweaking her own stiffened nipples between her thin fingers for further pleasure. As soon as she saw that Beatrice stopped in motion. Leah whimpered in disbelief as the snake-like wood slithered out of her, covered in her hot moisture. But before she could voice her disapproval Beatrice took her by the waist and shoulders to turn her around, onto her back and she landed on the mattress with a thud.

The effect of the fucking on her was unmistakable. Leah's blonde hair was splashed about the pillow like a puddle, her bosom was heaving from her laboured breathing, and her cheeks had gone a deep red. But before she could, however weakly, protest the fact that Beatrice had stopped, she felt the older woman push her thighs apart. With her back on the bed Leah could only look up. Beatrice climbed between her thighs and put both of Leah's long, nubile legs on either side of her shoulders. Then she leaned down to kiss Leah with passionate force whilst at the same time she thrust her phallus back into the girl's awaiting aperture.

With her bare feet suspended in the air Leah's fucking resumed. Beatrice crushed the girl's lips with her own whilst her hips battered hers. Very soon Leah started to pant and groan as she had done before, this time though those groans were stifled by their kiss. Because of this kind of position they were all the more close to each other. Ruth was completely taken by this. All her thoughts of how sinful it was, how sickening, had vanished. All that was left was a tremendous wave of arousal that swept across her young form and made her swell with heat. She couldn't take it any longer. She just had to touch herself. She quickly, greedily, pulled open the buttons of her dress and forced her hand between its folds so she could snatch at her own left breast. Ruth's other hand hiked up her skirt and pushed her hand down her cotton underwear to cup her vulva. From that crouched position she quietly masturbated herself to the sight of Beatrice compellingly impaling Leah, a sight she was too drunk on her own arousal to be repulsed by. Leah and Beatrice on the other hand, oblivious to their voyeuristic audience of one, were firmly focused on each other. When Beatrice clasped Leah's cheeks to reach deeper into their kiss, it freed up the girl's legs. As soon as this happened she wrapped her legs around Beatrice's waist and pulled her in tighter than ever. It almost flattened Beatrice's large breasts against Leah's smaller ones, their mutually erect nipples poking at one and other. It made their sex, which could have been divorced so easily from genuine sentiment by outside eyes, doubly intimate. That rushing knowledge made Leah kiss Beatrice harder and deeper, offering up her throat for the older woman's tongue. Her own arms then reached and encircled Beatrice's neck. She wanted to bring the woman closer to her anyone else, to truly feel her, to be one with her.

They now moved together in concert, as tight and as cohesive as the yin that melded with the yang. Leah's cries grew louder and louder when Beatrice's thrusts became quicker and more shallow. Eventually Leah's experience of it all, the phallus plunging in and out of her sex, the feel of Beatrice's muscular body on top of her own, the thick tongue penetrating her throat and caressing her own, Beatrice's hands clasping her reddened cheeks and jaw, their oh so powerful kiss, it was all just too much to resist.

Ruth watched in awe as something happened to Leah, the same thing that happened to Tess when she was taken by Molly and Faye those weeks ago. The blonde girl's pants sped up until they broke into a scream. Her whole body went rigid; toes curling, eyes scrunching, brow creasing, back arching. Her fingernails drew furrows into Beatrice's neck as her torso writhed and quaked with orgasm. It struck her like a clap of thunder to the ears and yet melted into a blissful, bathing warmth that spread over her with ardent grace and pleasant fire. When Leah hit her peak she collapsed into a limp haze of contentment. Her arms fell from Beatrice's neck and her legs unwound themselves from her waist, her gasps began to slow and her eyes slowly began to open. Beatrice in turn stopped her thrusts and simply let the phallus settle in her all the way up to the hilt, all the while Leah's lovely orgasmic fluids seeped out of her hot pussy in drips.

The two of them just laid there for a few moments, catching their breath, both now layered with a thick sheen of sweat. Ruth, stuck in the cupboard space, was also breathless. But once they hit their climax she suddenly realized what she had done during their sex. She had... touched herself! The girl quickly pulled her hands off herself and acclimated, trying to block out the rapidity of her heartbeat and the shallowness of her breath.

What this place turning her into?

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Afterthoughts

* Another first. This one being the first time I've used a strap-on during a sex scene. I don't have anything against them, per say, I just imagine that the only times they could logically be used are in a couple's frivolous moments and in BDSM.