Episode Six I lay Relaxing in the bath
I lay relaxing in a warm bath. My whole body felt totally satisfied. The pain on my bottom was now a hot sensation, the red stripes glowing with a sense of pride and defiance. I sat comfortably on a small half deflated rubber tube as I soaked in the bath salts and bubbles. Carol and Heidi were wonderful. They had bought me back to my stable loft, run the bath and carefully tended to my wounds. They rubbed salty water onto my bottom and all over my buttocks. It stung and I cried even more until they gently put me into the bath. It was full of blue, soapy bubbles with steam rising in the cool of the evening.
They left me in peace. I lay exhausted, content and strangely at peace looking out the loft door across the Estate to the yellow, parched, but beautiful hills and valleys which surround and seemingly protect our lives.
As I began to reflect on what had happened today I could hear Heidi and Carol in the next room. They were obviously still excited and aroused and were now happily working on each other to allay their tensions. I could hear Carol groaning, crying with anguish as Heidi licked her pussy. I could just hear the gentle slurping of two tongues, on two pussies. I could only imagine the scene as one crouched over the other. Tongues licking, pussies responding, their pace increasing, the tension, the build up, the climax. Then as last I could hear the sighs, the joy the trembles as they both collapsed into each others bodies to enjoy those precious moments after love making when the world is no longer, it is just you and another in love and as one.
My thoughts returned to the strange things that had happened and why. What was Anthony up to and why was Sarah Jane so interested in Waine who had made the fuss in the middle of her punishment and why? Surely they knew the rules just as she had. It was her affair; no one else had the right to interfere. It was her decision. She had made it and no one else. She was independent and didn't like the idea of someone else interfering with her life even if their intentions may have been honourable.
Suddenly the door flung open and in walked Jenni the cook. She was a dear. Jenni had been born on the Estate and had lived and worked here all her life. She was proudly Aboriginal. Her family had lived on this land for thousands of years before the white invasion. She was directly descended from the last tribal chief, Charlie, who had bravely fought the white settlers as their relentless quest for grazing land began to subsume their ancient lands. Anthony's great grandfather had finally killed and subsequently beheaded Charlie. His head was sent to the British museum and remained there for well over a century before Jenni’s tribal elders finally bought it home for a final tribal ceremony and was finally put to rest. His spirit of defiance though ran deeply in Jenni’s soul. She will never give up her fight for justice for her people. But the fact remained that Anthony and others like him still had all the power and white man's wealth necessary to keep the land. Her family and tribe had managed to have some land returned, a few acres of scrub near the river. It was home to many spirits whose mortal life ended by the brutal betrayal and cruelty of the white men. Jenni though was a survivor. She hated Anthony and his kind not only because of their ancient violence but also their persistent and uncompromising beliefs of white supremacy and for the pain his family had inflicted on her.
Her husband Jack had left her pregnant before leaving for the War. He was killed by a land mine. Jenni never spoke of him again but we would often see her sitting alone in the evenings with his picture in her hand. No one ever disturbed her solitude. When you met her though the less observant person would scarcely know that such a troubled heart lay behind that cheery, happy face. Jenni swept in with a tray of food in her hands. 'How are you feeling luv?' she said as she used around looking for a small table for the tray. 'I must say you behaved very well. The best I've seen for years. You held you head up high and no one got the better of you. I couldn't have done it so well.'
'Have you ever been punished Jenni?'
'Of course my dear. I was quite a looker in my time you know and was always in trouble. In those days they used the stocks all the time and we didn't have no choice I can tell you. Not like nowadays when everyone is too scared of being sued or up for workplace harassment. Harassment in deed. If you do the wrong thing you take the consequences that's what I say.'
By now the other two girls had come into the room and slopped into the bath. It was actually an old, very large horse trough so there was plenty of room. 'Tell us about it Jenni. What did they do to you?' Jenni looked a bit taken aback but Heidi touched her hand and said 'We would love to hear, we all love you Jenni and will never tell. It will be between us.'
We all settled back in the bath to listen to Jenni. As she sat cross-legged on a bale of hay I noticed two of her toes were crossed. Obviously something which had come from birth. She saw me looking and just said, ‘My toes, come from my mother, and her mother, dear.’ This dear lady we had all taken for granted as she cooked for us all, day in day out year after year. We had taken her for granted and with it her life. I could sense that her story was one of little joy but one of hardship, loneliness and sadness. We could see it in her eyes as she paused before letting out a long breath and a sigh as she commenced her story. At first her words were barely audible. We could only just hear her as her whispers faulted and her voice croaked with pain. What was she about to tell us? I thought I had just about had enough for one day. As she started she looked directly at me. I began to realize she was telling her story for a reason, an important reason known only to her and I. She would tell it in such a way that the others in the room would only listen to the word while I had to listen much more closely for the hidden, deeper messages in her tale. Her tale of the past was, I realized, the key to present.
I was pretty when I was young. I had long brown hair, way hips and legs, which could run like the wind. I was born in a cottage near Surrogate Farm and lived very happily as a child spending most of my time playing in the fields and grounds o the Estate. My first sexual experience came when I was a young girl. Nothing happened to me but one day I discovered a small window hidden under the shrubbery well away from the big house. I was with Billy my only girl cousin and together we managed to slide into the crack below the window to find ourselves in a tunnel. It was dark but pitted with a few light spots coming in from the occasional air funnel. We crept along the passage. It seemed to go on forever and ever until suddenly we heard noises. Billy wanted to go back. She held my hand so tightly I started to get pins and needles. We hardly dared to breathe until we came to a small landing looking down into what appeared to be dungeon. I think we must have been just below the chapel and must have been a place for priests and nuns to find solitude. It had a small cross and alter at one end with large metal rings along the other walls. I think it is what teachers would call a multi purpose room. It clearly had many other uses than prayer alone!
It was however well lit and surprisingly warm. We lay there hardly daring to breathe, waiting and watching. As our eyes became accustom to the dimness of the candlelight we became aware of two figures sitting in large easy chairs below. It was by now quite late and they had obviously just finished a lavish looking supper laid out on an old, refectory table and were now enjoying their cigars and brandy. It took us a little longer to realize that both the figures were young men and wore no clothes except a bow tie! We watched, they idly chatted about politics and life on the Estate until one of the lads stood up and pulled the servants bell at the side of the fireplace. The light of the blazing fire silhouetted his body. Then I realized who he was. It was Master Anthony and the other was his school chum Samuel Slythers. A servant entered the room with more glasses of brandy. He too wore no cloths except a butler's jacket. I knew him too. He was Jeremy a young stable hand and clearly enjoying his new role! Replacing the glasses he stood facing the young Anthony in front of the fire. We were too far away to hear what was being said but then without warning the Anthony put his hand out and began to touch the Butler's penis. Though they had only recently grown into manhood they were still young, but beautiful in statue. Billy held my hand even tighter. We were frozen with fear and anticipation. Neither of us had ever seen a naked boy who had such big penis' before let alone one touching another. Immediately Anthony's member began to stir, it started to rise like a serpent's neck. The story of Adam and Eve suddenly began to take on a whole new meaning. Jeremy's penis also began to get bigger, and bigger. Anthony played, pulled, tickled Jeremy’s cock and then to our amazement, and in trepidation he pulled it closer to his mouth. Opening it his tongue began to lick along the base of the shaft in front on him. His mouth then took it fully in until it seemed to be swallowed deep into his throat. Jeremy began to pump, in and out of Anthony’s mouth until suddenly he began to spasm, his face grimaced with tension and sweat before a thick cream started to ooze from Anthony’s lips. He let go and we could see both penises against the fire glow. Our eyes looked up and there on the wall above us were two enormous shadows of the men's phalluses. Billy squealed, the boys looked up, we ran, and ran until we came to our escape window. Looking out the coast was clear, so we ducked, ran some more and hid for hours until we felt safe enough to go home. Little did we know what would be in store for us. Not then but we knew it would come. We also knew the boys would wait, and make us wait, knowing that we knew that they knew we were there. Our secrets were their secrets, binding us inextricably together for ever. We were to be pursued, not knowing when it would happen but the time would come and they would seek their revenge.
That night in bed I lay thinking only of those images, my dreams, ..
Now we were trapped. Trapped by desire to find out more, satisfy our most primitive instincts but at the same time terrified by the knowledge that they would seek us out and envelop us into their web of depravity and sinful betrayal of our innocence. We kept returning to our secret place above the room. That room, which revealed to us the most ardent of human vices and virtues. Many times it would be empty. Clean, lit by a solitary candle on the alter, other times we would see remarkable human depravity or joyous love. Then we would come and find a priest in solitary prayer
Their excitement too intensified not knowing whether their intimacies were truly intimate or being watched by two pairs of eyes from the darkness. They knew we were watching. We would wait and see the boys retrieving the old iron key from the vestry porch and sneak through the chapel door. Billy and would duck along to our little entrance and creep along the tunnel until we found our ledge over looking the deep and dark room below.
Then one day it happened. We had just settled back into our resting place eagerly looking forward to the show below. Anthony and Samuel were in the room. Dressed in their ceremonial kilts they stood in front of each other and soon we could see the distinctive bulge of Anthony's penis pushing and straining under the cloth to escape, to be free to be handled, fondled and relieved. His friend soon came to its rescue, moving his hand forward he slipped his fingers through the open pleat at the side. I could feel the excitement in my tummy, the anticipation of what would happen next. Was it excitement or desire? Did I really want to be the one holding, playing with that thing? I could only just see but imagined each night in my bed. Suddenly, without any warning I felt a powerful, rough hand grip the back of my neck. I was being pulled up, dragged by the scruff of my neck back along the tunnel so fast I could hardly stay on my feet. Somehow Billy had escaped. She was always quicker than me when it really counted.
