Chapter 8

The girl was up at six, had some porridge and was set to work. Her tasks were menial, scrubbing the floor, peeling potatoes, and washing the pots and cauldrons. She had to have rubber gloves on, to protect her skin, to use a cushion to protect her knees. The keeper cared for her body.

She and two other girls wore their dresses open in front. They were all shaved. The cook and the keeper didn't. The little Spanish girl, Violeta or Vee, was the favourite of the cook, and worked in the kitchen. She was plump, dark and goodtempered.

The other was a boyish ashblonde girl in her early twenties, who made the beds, the washing and the cleaning and was under the wings of the keeper. She was the chambermaid, but the cook referred to her as Ash Boy or just Boy. The newcomer on the other hand was everybody's property and had no nickname at all and no title. She was just the girl.

"Come", said Ash Boy. The girl took off her gloves, dried herself carefully and followed her down the hall. She was used to accompany girls to bathrooms, but not to see them use the toilet. The chambermaid didn't care, on the contrary she wanted to do it in front of the girl. "Shy, aren't you?" she said with a mischievous smile. "Sit down."

The girl sat on her heels. She didn't see any toilet paper around, only a towel at the hand-basin. The maid rose and went up to the girl, stood in front of her with parted legs, her shaved pussy at level with the girl's face. "Wipe me clean", she said.

"With what?" The girl didn't understand.

"Your pretty little tongue will do. Ever heard of the rules? This is one of your duties."

The girl tentatively tasted the pussy. Salty it was, but not too bad. She licked her clean. The maid turned and bent over. "Now for the ass", she said.

The girl hesitantly parted the buttocks and saw the brown residue, not much but enough to make her feel sick. "No", she moaned, "please don't force me."

"Did I hear a no?" There was menace in the voice.

Panicking the girl shoved her face into the ass of the redhead, fought down an attack of nausea, and began licking. "Go on", the maid said. "I want to be real clean, get your tongue in, you little whore."

The girl worked on her ass till her jaws were aching and the tongue felt numb. "Enough", muttered the maid and opened the door and called out. "She said no, madame." Somebody was waiting outside.

The keeper came in with a bucket of twigs. The girl was on all four on the floor. "They all say no", she said and handed the maid some rope. "But only once. Undress her and tie her up. You didn't flush, I hope?"

In the nude the girl was a head shorter and half the width of the keeper, and she made no resistance when her hands were tied on her back. She was led over to the stool, her legs parted and her feet secured facing the tank. The keeper forced her to bend over and pushed her face down in the bowl, keeping it there.

After half a minute she pulled up her head, the girl spluttering and gasping, eyes wide. "Please", the girl cried. The keeper pushed her head down again.

"Don't stand there looking silly", the keeper growled to the maid. "Tie her arms to the tank." The girls arms were bent upwards and forwards, forcing her head down in the bowl. "We want nice straight legs and a good dip." When the angle between arms and legs were 90 degrees, the girl was practically jack-knifed. Her knees couldn't bend even if she tried. She was moaning from the strain. "Get me a nice, tight bundle of those twigs", the keeper said to the maid.

The maid put her arm in the bucket and jumped back. "Ouch", she cried "it's nettles. Can I fetch my gloves?"

"This is going to be a wonderful day", the keeper mumbled under her breath. "You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know what I pick? Get me that bundle..."

The maid awkwardly managed to get her hand into the bucket and got a grip on a handful of stems. She held them as a bouquet at arm's length.

"Squeeze them", the keeper said. "Squeeze them good. You got two good hands."

The maid squeezed them and then passed the bundle to the keeper, who received it without taking her eyes of her. "Do you want me to report you or shall I deal with your disobedience on the spot?"

"Please, madam, don't report me, I really didn't say no."

"So my hearing is impaired, too?" The keeper grabbed her dress at the neck and tore it open. Buttons were rolling on the floor. The maid was defenceless, her dress tying her arms to the sides and leaving her breasts bare. The nettles hit her breasts left, right, left, right, and fragments of leaves were in the air. "Make me another bundle."

The keeper turned her attention to the girl. She swept the nettles along the back of the legs, then between them. She noticed the tremor. "Stretching is good", she told the girl, "we want your body lithe and easy to handle. Imagine doing the splits, it improves the effect of pussywhipping, don't you think?"

She began to whip the girl, starting from the knees, alternating between forehand and backhand. With each hit red, diffuse welts appeared within a few seconds. She stopped when the backside was entirely covered with welts. She threw the bundle in the corner. "The new one." The maid had one ready.

The girl hardly felt the whipping, that pain being drowned by that from the pull on her arms. But when she was hit between her legs she jumped. A gurgling sound was heard from the bowl, then violent coughing. Next hit sent her down again.

The keeper was aroused now, her eyes shiny. She was merciless, each blow aimed straight on the cunt of the girl.

"She's had it", said the maid nervously. "Doesn't lift her head anymore."

"Who cares?" The keeper grabbed the hait and pulled the girl's head out of the bowl. Water came out of her nose, she showed the white of the eyes. "Pull the ropes." The keeper put both arms around her chest and did two fast compressions. The girl puked and gasped.

"I want you with me in a minute", the keeper growled and turned to the door. "But first get that sorry piece of ass out of here."

When her feet came loose the girl fell headlong over the toilet and hit the tiled floor with her head, not even protecting herself with her hands. The maid kicked her in the ribs. She gasped and coughed and water came out of her mouth. It didn't sound too good. "Shit." She flushed the toilet and began to drag the girl out the door. "Help somebody!"

"You in trouble, Boy?" the cook said.

The girl was in bed for three days with a blue eye and a fever. The area between her legs and her buttocks was covered with running sores. Violeta was treating her. She had difficulties breathing and the keeper, who didn't come to see her as she - like the ladies - found wounds repulsive, suggested antibiotics. The cook flatly refused. "I can clean her lungs out with camphor, you'll see."

On the third day her skin had healed, only crusts remaining. But she was still swollen and the skin was hypersensitive. The fever was down. She could do some simple work standing up, like polishing silver.

What got them worried was the girl's mental state, at night she was hallucinating and woke up screaming. As everybody was a bit unsettled it was decided that the Spanish girl should sleep with her. In her arms the girl relaxed. "She was so nice to me when I came here", she whispered in the dark. "I trusted her. How could she do this to me?"

"She gets mean when aroused", Vee explained. "And you're her type."

"I feel so filthy", whispered the girl. "Like nobody would ever want to touch me anymore."

"Don't be stupid." The Spanish girl kissed her. "You smell nice. I wanted to look like you when I was twelve or thirteen, to be tall and have fair skin and freckles and big blue eyes."

"I'm not tall", protested the girl. "And I hate the color of my skin, especially in the winters. Bluish, with visible veins and big ugly freckles. In the sun I turn pink and then the skin comes off."

The girl felt the heat of the darker woman from her shoulders down to the back of her thighs. She felt secure. And when she woke up the Spanish girl was kissing her neck and nibbling at her ear. She turned the girl on her back and kissed her breasts, her navel and her thighs. "Don't", mumbled the girl, "I'm so sensitive now."

"I'll be careful", whispered Violeta. "You're so wet."

"I know, it's like I'm on fire all the time. But it's painful."

The Spanish girl just used the tip of her tongue, running it lightly in the swollen folds. She could sense a glowing white ball appearing deep inside the girl through the ripples it caused, but didn't change pace. Then she paused and started anew.

"Nobody have been gentle to me for a long time", the girl whispered.

"Love can be found in unexpected places."

The girl recovered. A few days later she was back at her tasks, peeling potatoes, shining shoes, and scrubbing floors. When anyone said "Come!" she followed them and then returned to her duties. She learned a lot of things, among others that a visit to the bathroom was allowed for five minutes. So when the chambermaid wanted head she had to work fast.

Vee also used her services, but never with a vicious intent. They used running water to clean up. In the days they rarely spoke to each other, not to attract attention, but in the night she sneaked into the girl's room and made love to her. Forbidden of course, but the cook snored like a walrus and preferred to sleep alone. Sometimes the keeper had Boy in her quarters for her pleasure.

After such a night the maid seemed haggard and kept to herself. Her pussy was swollen and tender, the skin pricked by needles.

The girl never saw the ladies. Sometimes the Spanish girl or the maid was sent up to them, but often they were out travelling. The needles in her tits was changed to polished steel rings, with a larger and quite heavy ring between her legs, an inch wide. Her pubic hair and the hair in her armpits was permanently and painfully removed. At least the keeper hoped so.