between my lips and tied behind in the nesting of my hair. Caroline's lips would not open to the gag. She received a loud smack. Her yelp gurgled away behind the leather.
'Wash them down,' a voice said. Pieces of rough cloth were bound tightly around the tops of our thighs to prevent water trickling down our stockings. There came water, wetness, cold. I jerked. My spine curved. The sponging was insistent. It passed beneath my bottom, cooled my slit. Fingers quested at my lovelips as they urged the sponge. I was forced to strain up on tip-toes. The sponge passed beneath my armpits, in the curls there. It roamed over the hillocks of my breasts. Water tickled me, trickling down my belly. There was laughter as I squirmed. I did not know the voices.
Caroline was attended to next. The sponge trailed longer beneath her quim, I thought. Was I jealous? Her lovemouth pouted no more tightly than my own. A rough towel dried us. Our nipples perked against the wall. The iron rings, the manacles, the bonds about our ankles, clinked.
'Six,' a voice said. I sensed a movement new-a soft, insinuating sound as of leather passing across a palm.
Cra-aaaack! Broad width of leather seared across my bottom. Ah! I jerked. My belly to the wall I jerked. Cheeks wobbling, tightening, I received another. The sting was sweet, laid full across my buttocks.
A humming whine behind the gag. My own or Caroline's? Father-no! Father would not permit this. Surely his ship would turn, its tall sails straining. Commands. Feet urgent on the deck. My eyes screwed up. The heat flared in my bottom at the next.
'Harder!' I had heard my mother say when Jenny stayed that night.
'Neeynnnng!' Cries strangled in my throat. Flamesearing, the strap took me again. Again. Again. The trees could not see me. The grass did not care. Tears pearled down my cheeks. In my rudeness I squeezed my scorched cheeks tighter.
'Ah, the fullness of her-the thighs, the cheeks. What delicious plumpness,' a voice said. Was it Katherine? I heard the cries, unheard, of Caroline. The strap attended to her next. 'Let me feel the heat,' a voice said. It was the same cultured woman's voice. Palms palmed my wriggling bottom with womanly tenderness. They felt its fullness, the throbbing. Caroline's hip bumped against mine in her squirming. The loud slap-crack of the leather sounded. Fingertips sank insistent in my burning bulge. Cupped, held, I sank my weight upon the palms. My big plum, my pumpkin.
The last crack of the leather.
'Let me feel her,' a voice said. Another came whose perfume was as Katherine's. Behind us they stood side by side, controlled our squirmings with their seeking hands. I heard kisses. I could feel tongues. An urgent jerk from Caroline nudged me hard. A small laugh, husky, intimate.
'Not now-not yet,' the woman behind me said. Her fingers unclasped as if reluctantly from beneath my bottom. 'Is she wet? Tell me,' she said, 'Ah, give me your tongue!' She had spoken of Caroline. She was wicked. I could not restrain the working of my hips. Long tongues of flame licked through my buttocks still. Baby fingers of warmth moved in my groove. My love-slot pulsed gently. My nipples stiff.
'Leave them-they have been well attended to. What sweet young mares. They can be watered now.'
The voice was her voice. I knew her as Katherine now. Our gags were loosened. A tin mug passed between the wall and my mouth and tilted just sufficiently to let water trickle between my lips. I did not want it. I wanted wine. Had the servant unpacked my trunk? She would find my flask of liqueur.
The water had slopped down over Caroline's chin in her blubbering. I could feel it. Globules of water fell and decorated her nipples. Then the doors closed, the big doors in their closing. We were left alone. -
I wanted to speak in my speakness. I knew not what to say. Caroline hung her head. Her forehead rested against the wall.
'I love you,' I said. The fleshiness of our hips touched. She would not answer me. She made silly, babyish sounds. With my legs wide apart I closed my eyes again and dreamed of the stemming of cocks, the rubicund heads upon the waiting pricksthe nubbing thrust between my open lips. When my bottom was thrust over the end of the rocking horse, the taut cotton had outlined the lips of my honeypot beneath. I had rubbed against the haunches-felt their pleasure.
'It hurts,' Caroline whined. I shushed her. We must not be heard. 'Squeeze your cheeks,' I said. I wanted to touch her bottom, its polished roundness. There were footsteps -a slurring of feet upon the ground, the wisps of hay.
'What have you been doing?' Jenny asked. 'Have you been wicked?' She released us. Caroline covered her face. She was ignored. 'Put your clothes on-you cannot be sin like that. There are workmen about-rough men,' Jenny said.
We donned our cloaks. The tops of my stockings were damp. It was a feeling I liked. The stinging moved in my bottom still, but it was sweeter now. It made me walk differently. My hips swayed more.
'That is good,' Jenny said. She could see. She walked behind us. The doors were open again, huge in their hugeness. Two men with pitchforks stood beyond. They touched their caps at our passing. We did not look at them. Their voices were country voices. They breathed of warm milk in stone jars, left overlong on windowsills. Stale cheese-dried scraps of bread. They were rough men. My bottom moved-a silky bulb of heat beneath my cloak.
EIGHT
There were crumbs around my mouth. I wiped my lips delicately with my napkin and yawned. After the meal which the servant had brought to my room, I had sipped my liqueur. It had not been taken. The servant who brought the tray was the young girl who had curtsied to us when we had been taken to the stable that morning. Her name was Mary. She was unlearned but pretty. It pleased her to wait upon me. The flush of pleasure lay on her cheeks.
She appeared not surprised to find me naked except for my stockings and boots. On her coming back for the plates, the wine bottle and the glasses, I took her wrist and sat up. I swung my legs over the bed.
'M'am?' she asked. The housekeeper had not called me M'am. I sensed ranks, classes within classes, initiations. I drew Mary down beside me. 'I dares not stay,' she said, 'they will punish me.' 'With the strap?' I asked.
She gazed at the floor. Her feet were shod in neat black boots. Small feet. I would lick her toes perhaps. No. Crumbs of dirt between them. My nose wrinkled with distaste. My hand slid from her wrist and covered her hand. She trembled visibly. Her rosebud mouth was sweet. Such gestures are fatal. They have meaning-like commas, dashes, question marks. I have walked between words. I know the dangers of the spaces between them.
I passed my hand up the nape of her neck and felt her hair. It had not the silkiness of mine, but it was clean. I turned her face, moving my lips over hers. She started like a fawn. I held her. There was a taste of fresh bread in her mouth.
'Tell me,' I said.
'There are no answers,' a voice said. It was Jenny. She had entered quietly. I neither moved nor sprang up as perhaps she wanted me to. Instead I pressed my mouth again upon the girl's. She trembled in her freshness, a salty dew between her thighs. I felt intimations of boldness. Jenny's hand fell upon my shoulder.
She drew Mary up from my embrace. The girl turned and went, leaving the plates. I made to rise when Jenny fell upon me, spreading my legs by forcing hers between them. The hairs of her pubis were springy to mine through her thin cotton dress. It was a new dress. Small mauve flowers on a blue background. I wanted it.
'There is a wildness in you,' Jenny said. Her tongue licked suddenly into my mouth and then withdrew.
'Let me kiss your thighs,' I begged. She laughed and rose, pushing herself up on her forearms slowly so that her breasts bobbed their juicy gourds over mine.
Bereft I lay. Would she seek my tears-kiss the salty droplets? At Christmas Eve I had been carried upstairs with my drawers down. The sea-cry, the wind-cry. Jenny turned to the window and looked down. The darkness now beyond -the mouth of night.
'The stations are all closed-the people have gone. The ships have sailed,' she said. I began to cry. She turned and shook me roughly. 'The reception will begin soon, Beatrice -get dressed. Stand up!'
Words stuttered in my mouth but knew no seeking beyond. I wanted my nipples to be burnished by her lips.
