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.”