The woman was standing with her back to her, her blouse open to the waist. She was standing in front of the mirror on her dressing table and Rebecca, in a frozen instant before either of them could react, was able to see that she was dabbing water or something onto a terrible network of livid stripes which covered her breasts above the half cups of her corset. Rebecca’s jaw dropped in uncomprehending horror as Elise spun round, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Rebecca! Why you don’t knock!?” The shock made her normally perfect English stumble.

“I’m sorry.....I.....What are those?” Rebecca stammered but in truth she was beginning to form some horrible conclusions. Antonia had showed her the scars and weals on her back and now she was beginning to recognise what she had seen in the mirror.

Elise had turned away again and was buttoning up her high-necked blouse. Rebecca came into the room a little further.

“They’re whip marks aren’t they? Someone’s whipped your poor breasts! What kind of brute would do that!

Ssh, child. You don’t understand.”

That was true, but not in the way Elise meant it. Antonia had shown her her back expecting to elicit horrified sympathy. Rebecca had made the right noises but had found the sight of her sister’s graceful back and shoulders, lividly striped by a man’s whip, oddly disturbing but not horrifying. The thought of her having been half naked while she was flogged in front of so many other men had made her stomach churn with a strange emotion that she had no name for, but it had involved some strange tingling sensations in her breasts and between her legs where she had scarcely got used to ‘the woman’s curse’ each month. Now she felt something similar as she recalled the sight of the beautiful swells of Elise’s breasts and the savage markings inscribed on them.

“Was it that captain? Did he have you whipped too?”

“No. No. Rebecca you must forget what you have seen! Promise me!”

“But why?”

“Please!”

“Oh, very well,” Rebecca lied. She knew she would never forget the sight and someday she would find out more. But for the time being she turned and left.

 

In the state drawing room, His Grace the Duke of Loughmore was congratulating Captain Sumner on the way he had handled himself with the two women when a door burst open and the sound of heels tapping on the polished floor disturbed the men.

Pappa! Pappa!”

Captain Sumner turned and beheld a girl of about eighteen years. She had thick shining brown hair that hung in ringlets either side of an elfin face with the largest and most beautiful pair of deep brown eyes he had ever seen. She was plainly in a state of some agitation and her chest heaved, drawing his attention to what promised to become a very impressive cleavage once she achieved full maturity.

The Duke and the Captain stood respectfully and the Captain made a bow as he was introduced to the second daughter; Rebecca. As he straightened up he was surprised to see an expression of stupefied amazement on her face. She blushed bright red and mumbling some apology made a hasty exit. Her father shook his head and said he had no idea what had got into her.

“She’s normally the sensible one. Sired her on my second wife - a docile little mare, but not too tough. Some months after she gave birth I was playing cards with some friends and built up a forfeit of a couple of hundred lashes. Damn girl succumbed after barely a hundred. Had the devil’s own job to hush it up!”

The Captain tutted in sympathy.

“Now that brings me to the nub of the problem,” the Duke went on. “Antonia has got to be sorted out before she does my reputation serious harm. I know where she belongs, but I can’t be seen sending her there. It doesn’t have a savoury reputation, but it does train up damn good whipping flesh. I need someone to get her there.”

“I see,” the captain replied carefully. “But whoever did that would have to know where this place was and where Lady Antonia was at a particular time and date.”

“My secretary would see to that........and to payment of course.”

“I will see what can be done and will report back, Your Grace.”

 

Rebecca lay on her bed and stared out of the window. She hadn’t been going to blurt out about the marks she had seen on Elise but she had needed to speak to her father. And then he had been there. Of all the times to run into him! The man who had had the nerve to have her beautiful sister stripped, tied and flogged. The words went round and round in her mind and then the vision of Elise’s breasts returned to haunt her. Surely a woman couldn’t be whipped there could she? Unconsciously she found her hand had gone to her own breasts which felt oddly ‘full’ somehow and her nipples had gone stiff. Through her dress and her corset her hand stroked over them and she felt those strange tingles again. Her hand crept lower as the visions of tied women screaming under lashes wielded by handsome men like the dark, hard-faced Captain Sumner whirled round and round in her mind.

Suddenly she was scrabbling madly at her silk skirts and muslin petticoats, dragging the material up, frantically clawing at it until her fingers could explore that strange button of flesh at the top of her slit, where the slightest pressure from a finger could trigger the most amazing shivers of pure pleasure. Now though, she went to work on it brutally, harshly. Punishing it like the girls in her visions were being punished, rubbing it, grinding it and finding that the pleasure became so sharp it almost hurt. Then there came a sort of thunderclap of ecstasy which left her gasping with mingled terror and wonder. Slowly she felt a little lower and found that her slit had wept sticky stuff onto her thighs.

She would have to talk to someone or burst. But who? Elise?

 

For two days she debated whether to talk further with Elise and ask her all the questions that were plaguing her. The woman hardly stirred from her room during that time. Antonia spent the days riding and finally, after the house had settled down for the night, shielding her candle flame Rebecca made her way along the ghostly corridors under the stern gazes of her ancestors to Elise Ingemyer’s room.

 

Chapter Six

 

Elise had been expecting someone, but had been surprised at the soft tapping she heard at her door. Normally the Duke just marched in. Puzzled, she looked out and saw the shadowy figure of Rebecca.

“Please, can I talk to you Elise?”

Elise’s brain raced. What could she say? She couldn’t very well tell the girl she was expecting her father to come and abuse her and she knew well enough that Rebecca had a determined streak to her character and would not easily take no for an answer. All she could hope for was that the Duke might change his mind or get dead drunk over his port and cigars. She opened her door and Rebecca entered.

No sooner were they in than the girl flung herself at Elise’s feet and clasping her knees begged her to tell her ‘everything’. At last she got the girl to calm down and explain that she needed to know about her own body, about men and about women. Most importantly, she needed to know about the marks she had seen.

The girl’s big eyes, flickering with reflected candlelight, looked up at her, pleading. Eventually Elise took pity on her, pulled her to her feet and hugged her. It had been a long time since Elise Ingemyer had held another girl close. She had had several female lovers during a stay in Paris, but more recently she had been taking pleasure in the harsher caresses of men.

Rebecca was only slightly shorter than she was herself and through the material of their nightdresses she could feel the girl’s breasts press against hers. She had often admired those developing breasts and had been amazed that the girl herself had no idea of how magnificent they already were. Slowly the girl’s sobbing eased and Elise gave her a sisterly kiss on the cheek, but to her amazement she felt Rebecca’s mouth seek hers out fiercely and the soft lips press against hers urgently.

In only a few minutes the two women lay entwined on the bed, all thoughts of what might happen when the Duke arrived had been driven from Elise’s mind. All she cared about were the soft curves beneath her exploring fingers and the astonishing weight and firmness of the breasts.

“Can I see the marks?” Rebecca asked as Elise’s hands trailed down towards the girl’s groin. She sighed, but knew that she had truly cast her fate to the winds. She had nothing left to lose and was desperate to explore Rebecca’s body further. She stood up and unlaced the nightdress, letting it fall at her feet. Rebecca gasped and then held a candle closer as Elise sat on the bed beside her.

“I can’t teach you about your body while you hide it from me,” she said quietly.

Rebecca put the candle down and without taking her eyes of Elise’s ravaged breasts, unlaced her own nightdress and shrugged it off. Elise was aware that the beautifully shapely orbs which confronted her were as virgin and pure as hers were brutally abused and marked. She took one of Rebecca’s hands and placed it on her left breast.

“The long marks are made by a whip, the little holes are made by spikes on the inside of a leather strap and the red patches which you can just see if you hold the candle close are made by pouring hot wax onto them from a candle.”