[Author's note: This story was originally posted in "Lesbian Sex", but due to the heavy sadomasochistic themes of the series, I have moved it to "BDSM".]
*****
-Dr Isabella Pacetti's Notes:
To recap: Sophie Burton has started a new job as assistant to a novelist, Marie Alderney. She has moved into the author's house and befriended her maid, Katy. Harbouring dark secrets in her own past, she is immediately aware that the relationship between Katy and the widowed Mrs Alderney is odd. However, Sophie is shocked when, a few weeks later, the employer brutally canes the maid in the office, ostensibly as punishment for her poor behaviour. Enraged, Sophie tells them she is leaving, and storms out as the punishment continues.
Once again I remind you that all the participants in these acts of sadism and submission are consenting adult women.
-Sophie's Statement:
I climbed the stairs faster than was comfortable, making more noise than necessary, desperate to distract myself. The sounds of the cane and Katy's voice were loud in my ear, and I dared not remember the scene I had left downstairs.
My clothes were all unpacked by now, but I was glad to concentrate on the mundane task of gathering all my belongings and cramming them into bags and cases.
...Please Madame, may I repeat my lessons?
Very well. Take it off...
...Soft black hair, quivering like downy feathers against white flesh, shaking with cold or fear or excitement in the cool sunlight...
I groaned and clasped my palms to my face, trying to squeeze the images out of my mind. I began to grab underwear from the drawer and stuff it carelessly into a bag.
...What are these?
My knickers Madame...
For God's sake. I put the packing on hold while I took off my office clothes. I laid my jacket, skirt and dreary black shoes with some semblance of order on the bed. I rooted through the growing mess and found jeans and a clean white t-shirt. I tugged on the jeans.
...Bend your back and raise your behind...
This was becoming foolish.
I carried the t-shirt into the bathroom and threw it aside so I could splash cold water over my face. As I waited for the basin to fill, I stopped moving for the first time as I leant on it with both hands, staring at my eyes in the mirror. I felt as though I was vibrating. I scooped a double handful of water and threw it against my face. Looking at myself again, I could read no emotion in my expression. I tried to feel angry again, but I suspected I was just afraid. Not afraid of Mrs Alderney and her cane, of course. Not afraid of Katy. Not as such...
I bent my back and raised my behind and I laughed at myself. I watched my chest dip and my modest cleavage exaggerate, tiny beads of water rolling and curving over my neck and shoulders. I was trying to tell myself that I was sexy. I was trying to tell myself that I had nothing to be scared of, or to be sickened by. A few years ago I would've just laughed at the pair of them, snatched the cane from the old bitch and shown her how it should be done.
But of course, I had changed.
There came the softest possible sound of knocking from the bedroom door and the very softness of it annoyed me, jolting me out of my daydream. I snatched up the t-shirt and pulled it on, and allowed the anger to grow again. I stamped into the bedroom and hauled open the door.
There stood Katy, wearing her uniform again. Her face and her eyes were red. She had cried and then rubbed her face, her hair was messy and she stood awkwardly, nervous and uncomfortable. When she spoke her teeth were porcelain white behind her soft puffy lips, and her voice was small and damp.
"I'm sorry..."
"Don't want to hear it, Katy." I turned my back and busied myself with my packing. I hadn't dried my neck and now the collar of the t-shirt was cold and clingy. I let this irritate me. "I want you out of my sight. You're pathetic, the of pair of you."
"It's a valid lifestyle-"
"No! How dare you? Don't give me that shit! You know that's not the point, for fuck's sake! You betrayed me! You humiliated me! We were supposed to be friends!"
She started to cry. "We are friends! Sophie! I'm sorry! Please!"
"I really don't care." But when I turned to face her, I knew this wasn't true. She stood there, sobbing freely and openly, staring at the ceiling in despair. Even through my anger I could see her genuine distress, so I spoke as softly as I could.
"Look, calm down." This seemed to be all the sympathy I could manage. "Stop crying and I'll talk to you. Go wash your face."
Katy hurried past me into the bathroom. I stood in the doorway and watched her approach the basin. Apparently she caught her reflection in the mirror and something about this renewed her tears. She dropped clumsily to her knees and pushed her face against the front of the basin, racked with sobs.
This struck me as a little too theatrical, too clearly calculated to melt my heart and gain my forgiveness. I was sure I was being manipulated and this triggered renewed fury and I frankly lost control. I stormed over to her and thrust my fingers into her hair, taking tight hold. Katy squealed and clutched at my wrist, shock on her face.
With all my strength and surging rage I hauled Katy up and over the basin, shoving her face into the bowl, knowing all the time, just beneath the surface, that I should have been soothing the wretched creature, not attacking her. But I did feel betrayed and humiliated and insulted. Katy flailed and spluttered as her head was thrust down into the water. Instinctively I caught one of her arms, redoubling the pressure with the hand that held her head.
She wriggled and with her free hand she clutched helplessly at the taps, the tiles and my leg. I could stand up straight, leaning quite easily, holding the girl in place with surprisingly little effort.
Dr Pacetti has pointed out that I make it sound like I was trying to drown her, and of course I wasn't. I'm not completely insane. I can't justify it, or excuse it, or give it any rational motivation, but I think my intention was to make her panic, and make her fight me. I'm not proud of this part of the story, and I only agreed to tell it because la dottoressa threatened to write a version of her own which would make me look even more ridiculous.
And anyway I quickly realised she was not trying to fight me. Instead she just shuffled her feet on the cold floor and wriggled her body. In fact she moved everything but her head, which remained submerged. It was this lack of resistance that disturbed me and made me feel foolish. I let go and stepped back as Katy hauled her face from the water, reeling backwards, raising a great plume of water and tumbling onto the floor, gasping and coughing.
Perversely, the shock seemed to have calmed Katy, and she lay still and quiet on her back. She was tense but no longer crying. Her legs curled up a little and her face turned away, apparently waiting. She had fallen so wildly that her dress had risen up far enough to allow her belly button to peep from under the hem. Her thighs exposed, the scars were dark and red and clear, the pink skin was sharply overlaid with the white cotton knickers.
I looked for several seconds at the cruel marks contouring the girl's body, front and back now. Then I quietly stepped forward and gently pulled the dress down over Katy's thighs.
