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It was really Mr. Bridshaw I dreamt about; Josh was the monster that had escaped from my nightmares.\" - Camille Danes, La Jeune Fille Torturée, Chapter Three", "description_bbcode_parsed": ""I had lied.  It was really Mr. Bridshaw I dreamt about; Josh was the monster that had escaped from my nightmares." - Camille Danes, La Jeune Fille Torturée, Chapter Three", "writing": "His hand traveled up my thigh. I tried not to react too much but his touch sent tiny electric sparks through my skin. His nose was dangerously close to mine. \n[i]Just a little closer... [/i]My mind urged. \nI felt his warm breath on my face and I breathed in the scent of tobacco and mint. His lips were just inches from mine, then I turned my head and his lips touched my cheek instead. \n“Stay here with me?” he whispered in my ear. \nYes! My brain cried. \nHe lightly stroked his fingers up and down my arm, it was a soothing feeling and I leaned into him a little. \nI wrestled with myself. \nNo I couldn’t stay. I could. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. \n“I can’t,” I said. \nHe took my hand in his and kissed it. \n“I need to be home by dinner though,” I said, trying to sound polite. \nI don’t think Mr. Bridshaw really cared though; he was too busy kissing my hand. Then his kisses started to travel up my arm. \n“Sir, is this really appropriate?” I asked. \nHe pulled back a bit and smiled. \n“Oh forgive me, no it is not,” he replied. \n\nI eventually got over my fear of venturing back into the maze. It looked less frightening this particular morning, even happy. There were flowers on its branches and they made the air smell sweet. I went to my usual spot, the fountain, and sat down. It seemed deeper than it used to be, or maybe it had always been deep and I never paid much attention. I saw a flash of dirty green. It was a little frog. I sat watching her swim, but as I bent over to get a closer look my necklace fell off and into the fountain with a soft splash. \n[i]My pearls![/i] My brain screamed. \nI reached in but they were too far down to touch. I could see them faintly sparkling in the sunlight. \n“Oh!” I groaned. \nI stood up and stripped down to my undergarments, but then I didn’t want them to wet my dress so I took them off too and then jumped into the fountain. It wasn’t too deep; it went up to just below my breasts. I took a deep breath and dove. I couldn’t see except for the gray of the light mixing with the darkness of the water. I felt around with my paws, the first time I came up I pulled up a root, the second time I got my pearls. I set them on the stone wall and prepared to get out, but when I looked up there was Josh. \n“Nice to see you again, Cammie,” he smirked. \n“Go away,” I told him. \n“No, I don’t think I will,” he said. \nThen he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. I was literally balancing on my toes. I covered my breasts, as much as I could, with my free arm. Josh held my wrist above my head and looked me up and down. It was so embarrassing! He kissed me, he pushed his tongue into my mouth. Disgusted, I bit his tongue and he jumped back. He glared at me and then pushed me back under. When I surfaced my pearls were gone and so was Josh.\n\n“Dinner is served,” Miss Bailie’s voice called. \nEveryone sat down. Josh sat next to me. There was so much food, so many plates, utensils and glasses I didn’t know where to put my hands. \n“Good news, I’ve just received word that Mother died!” Uncle Atlas said. \nHow was that good news? \n“Grandmamma Flora is gone?” I said. \n“Good riddance,” Daddy said, lifting his glass. \nMammy and Josh and Miss Bailie did the same. \n“Oh yes, but don’t worry, darling, she left you small fortune and some nice trinkets,” Uncle Atlas said. \nI stood up. \n“Excuse me,” I said. \nI left the room slowly, as I got out the door I heard Uncle Atlas say, “What she needs is a few good smacks,” and then I heard him laugh a bit. Once I was out of sight I rushed to the top of the stairs. It was then I realized I still had my napkin. I crushed it into a ball and squeezed it, trying hard to keep the tears in but they wouldn’t stay. How could everyone be so cheerful about this? Grandmamma Flora was dead and I never got to meet her. I was told she had been sick but I didn’t know how sick. Grandfather had talked about her. He said she was the sweetest woman, but now they were both gone.\n“Save up all your tears and come back to the table,” I heard Josh’s voice say. \n“No, I can’t stand to be around them,” I said. \n“Your father sent me to get you, I’m bringing you back,” he said.\n\"No,\" I said. \nI turned to face him. \n\"Give me back my pearls,\" I said. \n\"Come back to the table,\" Josh said. \n\"I want my pearls back, you had no right to take them,\" I told him. \n\"Come back to the table and I'll think on it,\" he said. \n“No, I won’t go and you can tell them I said that,” I said. \nI turned on my heel towards my room. \n\nThere was no moon tonight. I lay in bed with my lamp on, it lit the bed and a small bit of the room but that was it. The house was so noisy, so many creaks and squeaks. It couldn’t be mice, Miss Bailie was very hard on the Help if anything seemed slightly dirty or amiss. I turned away from the light, thinking I could sleep better. There he was. \n“Mr. Bridshaw, what are you doing here?” I asked, but he gently put a finger to my lips to silence me. \nHe smiled, leaned forward and kissed me. Not a hard or long kiss, just a gentle kiss, like one would imagine a lover to give. His hand moved up my thigh, pushing my shift up, and stopped just above my tail where he traced a small circle with his fingertips. He rubbed me gently, his fingers finding their way into my nether region and touching, stroking my sensitive areas. Maybe Mr. Bridshaw could teach me that intercourse, as Miss Bailie called it, wasn’t supposed to be scary. Maybe he could show me that it could be as enjoyable an activity as reading and dancing. He turned me onto my back and pinned my wrists down, then lightly ran his hands up and down my arms, over my collar bone. He pushed my shift up further and stroked my breasts, gently kneading them in his large but gentle hands. He kissed and nipped at my neck. I moaned and pressed myself against him. He rubbed my belly, then I felt some pressure as he entered me. \n“Ah Camille,” he moaned. \nBut it wasn’t Mr. Bridshaw’s voice. I opened my eyes and saw to my horror that it was Josh. I started to cry and pushed against him. \n“No!” I whimpered. \nI hit him with my hands but he wouldn’t stop. He just smiled and thrust harder. I opened my mouth to scream but he clamped his hand over my mouth. \n“Father was right, what you need is a few good smacks,” Josh said. \nHe grabbed me by hair and began to hit me about my face. He landed a hard blow; his fingers caught my nose as he hit my cheek. My other cheek smacked the pillow. For a moment I thought he had broken my nose. He pinned my hands above my head. I looked up at him, his face was twisted with rage, he looked almost demonic. He let go of my wrists and slipped out of me but I didn’t dare to move. He moved down my breasts, down my belly. I felt his lips on the inside of my thigh. He kissed me between my legs and nuzzled me with his nose, pressing into my folds. A shiver ran up my spine. Between my legs it was wet, hot and sticky. I bit my lip and fought to not show anything even though my body seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. I felt his tongue on my clitoris and then he sat up. He stood up and pulled his pants up, pulled his robe on and left my room. \n\n“Pay attention, Camille! Knit one, purl two,” Miss Bailie snapped. \n“I’m sorry, Nanny,” I said. \nWe were alone in the Maple Room. It was called that because of all the pinks, oranges, reds and browns. \nThere was a throbbing pain between my legs that carried from last night and I had a bruise on the side of my muzzle and just below my left temple. I was able to hide one of them but the one on my muzzle was not so easy. I could still feel his hands, his lip, and his tongue on me. Every part of him I could still feel on me. I hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of the night. \n“Keep it up, I’ll get the tea and biscuits,” Miss Bailie said, and then she stood up and left.\nA few moments later, Josh came in. My hands froze and my throat felt dry. \n“Get out!” I choked. \nJosh smiled and dangled my pearls in his hand. \n“Don’t you want your pearls back?” he asked. \nI hesitated, then I held out my hand but he didn’t give me the necklace; instead he sat in the chair next to me. \n“Leave,” I said. \nHe didn’t. My grip tightened on the needles. \n“Leave,” I said again. \nMiss Bailie came back, carrying a tray of tea and golden biscuits. \n“What are you doing here? This room isn’t for boys,” Miss Bailie said. \n“Just wanted to say 'hello' to Cammie,” Josh said, then he got up and left. \n“I hate him, I wish he’d leave,” I said. \n“Well that’s fine, but he can’t leave just yet,” Miss Bailie said. \nShe poured us some tea and I spread a bit of jam on a biscuit. \n“I have dreams about him,” I said. \nI had lied. It was really Mr. Bridshaw I dreamt about; Josh was the monster that had escaped from my nightmares. \n“Nightmares you mean?” Miss Bailie asked. \n“No Nanny, dreams,” I answered. \nI took a bite of my biscuit. \n“I see,” Miss Bailie said, and took a sip of her tea. \n“No you don’t,” I mumbled into my teacup. \n“What?” Miss Bailie asked. \n“Nothing,” I replied. \n\n[i]There was blood everywhere, blood on the walls, the floors, the ceiling, and the furniture. Josh lay on the floor, shaking. I pulled the needle from his neck. He looked up at me. \n“You…” he hissed. \nHis body was covered in bloody holes. I licked the blood off the needle. \n“Never again!” I said, then plunged the needle into his chest. \nHis eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he was still. [/i] \n\n“Camille you’ve dropped a stitch!” Miss Bailie snapped. \nI looked up at her. \n“What?” I said. \nIt was only a dream. Josh was probably off at the pub with his friends. \n“You have dropped a stitch,” Miss Bailie said, and she snatched my knitting from me to fix it. \nI wondered if it would be such a horrible thing if she should sit on one of my knitting needles.\n“I’m sorry Nanny,” I said. \nI poured myself some more tea and took another biscuit. \n“Don’t eat too many of those, you’ll spoil your dinner,” Miss Bailie said. \n“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” I said softly. \nI sipped my tea quietly. \n“Hush now,” Miss Bailie said. \n[i]KNOCK! KNOCK! [/i]\nGeorge, the butler, entered and bowed. \n“A Mr. William to see Miss Dane,” George said. \nMiss Bailie turned her head to me, she looked furious but she didn’t say anything. Then she turned back to George. \n“What does he want?” she hissed. \n“He wants to speak with Miss Dane,” George said. \n“May I?” I asked her. \n“You may,” she said, as if the idea of me leaving the room both relieved and frustrated her. \n\nWill was standing in the Main Hall inspecting a painting of a hunting scene on the wall. His hat was clasped in a hand behind his back. He bowed to me when he saw me approaching. I wished he hadn’t. \n“You don’t have to do that,” I said to him. \n“I must, because I am a gentleman,” Will replied. \nI smiled. It hurt. Will saw and bent toward me; his eyes widened. I put a hand to my muzzle. \n“Afternoon,” I said. \n“Afternoon,” he said. \nI felt so awkward. I looked over my shoulder and then to him again. \n“You came to see me?” I asked. \n“Yes,” he replied. \nHe looked to the painting again. \n“Lovely piece,” he said. \n“It was a gift to the family,” I said. “I hate it. It’s barbaric.” \n“In that case it is an awful piece,” Will said. \nHe looked around. \n“Is there somewhere private we can speak?” he asked. \n“This house is hardly private,” I said softly. \nI looked over my shoulder again. \n“The Library, we won’t be bothered there,” I said, then added, “Mostly because I’m the only person in this family who appreciates books.” \n\nThe Library was quiet, so quiet I started to have second thoughts. Josh could be hiding there, listening, eager to report to Daddy or blackmail me. I lead Will towards the very back. There was a couch where we could sit. Will sat and crossed his legs. \n“This is nice,” he said. \n“My own secret, little hiding place,” I said. \nWill nodded. \n“You are well?” he asked. \nI paused. I smoothed my skirt. \n“Well enough,” I lied. \nI couldn’t tell if he could tell I was lying. He might have been able to. My face was bruised. He just nodded again. \n“Mr. Bridshaw likes you,” he said. \n“Course he does,” I said. \n“He talks about you every day,” Will said, then added with a shrug. “Well, to me he does.” \nMy lips curled into a small smile. \n“He hopes you’ll come for tea again,” Will said. \nTo finish the drawing, no doubt, though he probably wouldn’t say. \n“I would like to,” I said. \n“He hopes you’ll stay longer,” Will said. \nI felt warm inside. There was nothing more I would have loved than to pack my bags and leave home to live out the rest of my days in Atwell Abbey with Mr. Bridshaw and Will. \n“I would like that as well,” I said. \nThen Will put his hand on mine. I hadn’t realized I’d been gripping my skirt so tightly. My knuckles were white. \n“You really are well?” Will asked. \nI looked at him. I think my silence was the answer he needed. I looked away for a moment. \n“How did you come to know Mr. Bridshaw?” I asked, trying to change the subject. \nWill smiled again, uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs. \n“My family and his have a history,” he replied, then added, “And so do he and I.” \n“Your parents worked for him?” I asked. \n“Yes, them and my older sister, but they died when I was very young,” Will said. “Typhoid fever, we all had it but I survived.” \n“I’m sorry,” I said. \n“S’alright,” Will said. \nHe tapped his fingers on his knee. \n“Mr. Bridshaw raised me,” he said. “Well, him and the staff in Atwell Abbey.” \n“That was very kind of him,” I said. \nIn truth, I was a little jealous of Will. He was blessed with a loving family and I was not so lucky. \n“You will come?” Will asked. \n“I will try,” I replied. \nWill nodded again, and then stood up. I followed and we walked back to the front doors. \n“It was lovely to see you again, Miss Dane,” Will said. \n“Please call me Camille,” I said. \n“Camille,” Will said with a smile, then put his hat on, tipped it to me and left through the doors. \n\nThe hall seemed longer today, probably because I was a little drowsy. It had been a long day of knitting and listening to Miss Bailie moan. I bumped into someone as I rounded a corner. They squeaked and hurried past me. I turned to see who it was. It was a striped hyena female; she hardly looked older than me. She rushed down the hall, watching me nervously over her shoulder. I don’t think she knew the back of her dress was still open and her corset was visible, her blonde hair was coming out of its bun. She appeared to have come from Josh’s room. I fought the urge to knock on his door, not after what had happened last night, but then a sad little voice in my head said, “Thank god it wasn’t me.” \nI closed the door behind me and crawled into bed. I didn’t feel like dinner. I couldn’t sit next to Josh; sit next to him where he could put his hands on me. I think Uncle Atlas knew… I think everyone knew, but they didn’t care or want to say anything. They didn’t care to do anything. I stared up at the ceiling. I think it would have looked nice with clouds and angels pained on it. Yes, that was it. A blue sky with white clouds and chubby little angels with pink and blue wings, then when I’d wake up I’d know everything was well. But who would see the angels and the clouds at night? \n“Camille, are you ready?” Miss Bailie’s voice asked, she knocked on the door. \n“I’m not going,” I said. \n“You have to eat,” Miss Bailie said. \n“I’m not hungry, Nanny,” I said lazily. \n“Your father wants you downstairs,” Miss Bailie said. \n“I don’t want to go, tell him I’m unwell,” I groaned. \nSurprisingly she left me alone. What a relief, I breathed. \nI closed my eyes. My bed was so soft and comfortable. I didn’t want to get up. \n“Mr. Bridshaw,” I said softly, stroking the quilt. \nI smiled and breathed a deep sigh, rubbing my belly, lightly scratching at the fabric of my dress. One of my hands stroked my thigh, pulling my dress up and caressing my fur. \nI ran my hand up my thigh and then reached with my other hand to push my bloomers down. My fingers stroked back up my thigh and over my lower lips. They were a little wet. I let my fingers wander a little further. They brushed over my clitoris and my body quivered a little. I sighed softly and rubbed my clitoris with a single fingertip, circling it. I think my body enjoyed that. I enjoyed it; it wasn’t scary and I wanted it to happen, not like how Josh did it where I never consented. I could feel myself getting wetter; my lips seemed to swell a little. My fingers moved a little deeper, one of them wandered inside me. It felt nice. I moved my finger in and out of my cunny, my palm rubbed against my clitoris. \n\n[i]There he was again. His sketchbook in hand, but then he set it aside. He tugged off his shirt and my jaw dropped a little. He was gorgeous, tall and muscular, his fur golden in the lamplight. He moved toward me, his muscles rippling. He climbed onto the couch with me and hovered over me. His nose just inches from mine. He ran his fingers through my hair, rubbing his nose against mine. His hands stroked my face and shoulders and I leaned into him to kiss his cheek. \nThen he sat up and unbuckled his belt and pulled my bloomers off. He pushed my dress up and caressed my thighs softly. He entered me and kissed me softly, showering my face with light kisses. He kissed my neck and my shoulder, gently stroking my breasts. He snaked his hands beneath me and pulled me close to him. [/i]\n\n“Mr. Bridshaw… Richard…” I moaned. \nSomeone would hear me… but I didn’t care. I pushed my finger a little deeper. My wetness seemed to be sucking on my finger. My nipples stiffened, pressing against my corset. Damn the lacing. I couldn’t reach it with my one hand, and I didn’t want to take my other hand away. I slipped in a second finger, increasing my thrusting. \n“Richard..” I moaned a little louder. \nMy muscles clenched round my fingers, my body quivered a bit as a wave washed over me and I cried out. \nMy fingers were drenched, there was a musky but sweet smell about the room. All was silent, then- [i]KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! [/i]\n“Camille? Camille, are you alright?” Miss Bailie asked. \nMy face flushed. [i]Oh god! [/i]\n“Yes! Yes, I’m alright! Everything is alright! I just saw a mouse!” I lied. \nI think she believed me. \n“No mice are welcome in this house!” Miss Bailie said. \nI lay back on my bed. \n“Damn,” I whispered. ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "His hand traveled up my thigh.  I tried not to react too much but his touch sent tiny electric sparks through my skin.  His nose was dangerously close to mine.
Just a little closer... My mind urged.
I felt his warm breath on my face and I breathed in the scent of tobacco and mint.  His lips were just inches from mine, then I turned my head and his lips touched my cheek instead.  
“Stay here with me?” he whispered in my ear.
Yes! My brain cried.
He lightly stroked his fingers up and down my arm, it was a soothing feeling and I leaned into him a little.  
I wrestled with myself.  
No I couldn’t stay.  I could.  I wanted to, but I couldn’t.
“I can’t,” I said.
He took my hand in his and kissed it.
“I need to be home by dinner though,” I said, trying to sound polite.
I don’t think Mr. Bridshaw really cared though; he was too busy kissing my hand.  Then his kisses started to travel up my arm.
“Sir, is this really appropriate?” I asked.
He pulled back a bit and smiled.
“Oh forgive me, no it is not,” he replied.

I eventually got over my fear of venturing back into the maze.  It looked less frightening this particular morning, even happy.  There were flowers on its branches and they made the air smell sweet.  I went to my usual spot, the fountain, and sat down.  It seemed deeper than it used to be, or maybe it had always been deep and I never paid much attention.  I saw a flash of dirty green.  It was a little frog.  I sat watching her swim, but as I bent over to get a closer look my necklace fell off and into the fountain with a soft splash.
My pearls! My brain screamed.
I reached in but they were too far down to touch.  I could see them faintly sparkling in the sunlight.  
“Oh!” I groaned.
I stood up and stripped down to my undergarments, but then I didn’t want them to wet my dress so I took them off too and then jumped into the fountain.  It wasn’t too deep; it went up to just below my breasts.  I took a deep breath and dove.  I couldn’t see except for the gray of the light mixing with the darkness of the water.  I felt around with my paws, the first time I came up I pulled up a root, the second time I got my pearls.  I set them on the stone wall and prepared to get out, but when I looked up there was Josh.
“Nice to see you again, Cammie,” he smirked.
“Go away,” I told him.
“No, I don’t think I will,” he said.
Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. I was literally balancing on my toes.  I covered my breasts, as much as I could, with my free arm.  Josh held my wrist above my head and looked me up and down.  It was so embarrassing!  He kissed me, he pushed his tongue into my mouth.  Disgusted, I bit his tongue and he jumped back.  He glared at me and then pushed me back under.  When I surfaced my pearls were gone and so was Josh.

“Dinner is served,” Miss Bailie’s voice called.  
Everyone sat down.  Josh sat next to me.  There was so much food, so many plates, utensils and glasses I didn’t know where to put my hands.
“Good news, I’ve just received word that Mother died!” Uncle Atlas said.
How was that good news?
“Grandmamma Flora is gone?” I said.
“Good riddance,” Daddy said, lifting his glass.  
Mammy and Josh and Miss Bailie did the same.
“Oh yes, but don’t worry, darling, she left you small fortune and some nice trinkets,” Uncle Atlas said.  
I stood up.
“Excuse me,” I said.
I left the room slowly, as I got out the door I heard Uncle Atlas say, “What she needs is a few good smacks,” and then I heard him laugh a bit.  Once I was out of sight I rushed to the top of the stairs.  It was then I realized I still had my napkin.  I crushed it into a ball and squeezed it, trying hard to keep the tears in but they wouldn’t stay.  How could everyone be so cheerful about this?  Grandmamma Flora was dead and I never got to meet her.  I was told she had been sick but I didn’t know how sick.  Grandfather had talked about her.  He said she was the sweetest woman, but now they were both gone.
“Save up all your tears and come back to the table,” I heard Josh’s voice say.
“No, I can’t stand to be around them,” I said.
“Your father sent me to get you, I’m bringing you back,” he said.
"No," I said.
I turned to face him.
"Give me back my pearls," I said.
"Come back to the table," Josh said.
"I want my pearls back, you had no right to take them," I told him.
"Come back to the table and I'll think on it," he said.
“No, I won’t go and you can tell them I said that,” I said.
I turned on my heel towards my room.

There was no moon tonight.  I lay in bed with my lamp on, it lit the bed and a small bit of the room but that was it.  The house was so noisy, so many creaks and squeaks.  It couldn’t be mice, Miss Bailie was very hard on the Help if anything seemed slightly dirty or amiss.  I turned away from the light, thinking I could sleep better.  There he was.  
“Mr. Bridshaw, what are you doing here?” I asked, but he gently put a finger to my lips to silence me.
He smiled, leaned forward and kissed me.  Not a hard or long kiss, just a gentle kiss, like one would imagine a lover to give.  His hand moved up my thigh, pushing my shift up, and stopped just above my tail where he traced a small circle with his fingertips.  He rubbed me gently, his fingers finding their way into my nether region and touching, stroking my sensitive areas.  Maybe Mr. Bridshaw could teach me that intercourse, as Miss Bailie called it, wasn’t supposed to be scary.  Maybe he could show me that it could be as enjoyable an activity as reading and dancing.  He turned me onto my back and pinned my wrists down, then lightly ran his hands up and down my arms, over my collar bone.  He pushed my shift up further and stroked my breasts, gently kneading them in his large but gentle hands.  He kissed and nipped at my neck.  I moaned and pressed myself against him.  He rubbed my belly, then I felt some pressure as he entered me.  
“Ah Camille,” he moaned.
But it wasn’t Mr. Bridshaw’s voice.  I opened my eyes and saw to my horror that it was Josh.  I started to cry and pushed against him.
“No!” I whimpered.
I hit him with my hands but he wouldn’t stop.  He just smiled and thrust harder.  I opened my mouth to scream but he clamped his hand over my mouth.
“Father was right, what you need is a few good smacks,” Josh said.  
He grabbed me by hair and began to hit me about my face.  He landed a hard blow; his fingers caught my nose as he hit my cheek.  My other cheek smacked the pillow.  For a moment I thought he had broken my nose.  He pinned my hands above my head.  I looked up at him, his face was twisted with rage, he looked almost demonic.  He let go of my wrists and slipped out of me but I didn’t dare to move.  He moved down my breasts, down my belly.  I felt his lips on the inside of my thigh.  He kissed me between my legs and nuzzled me with his nose, pressing into my folds.  A shiver ran up my spine.  Between my legs it was wet, hot and sticky.  I bit my lip and fought to not show anything even though my body seemed to be enjoying what he was doing.  I felt his tongue on my clitoris and then he sat up.  He stood up and pulled his pants up, pulled his robe on and left my room.

“Pay attention, Camille! Knit one, purl two,” Miss Bailie snapped.
“I’m sorry, Nanny,” I said.
We were alone in the Maple Room.  It was called that because of all the pinks, oranges, reds and browns.  
There was a throbbing pain between my legs that carried from last night and I had a bruise on the side of my muzzle and just below my left temple.  I was able to hide one of them but the one on my muzzle was not so easy.  I could still feel his hands, his lip, and his tongue on me.  Every part of him I could still feel on me.  I hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of the night.  
“Keep it up, I’ll get the tea and biscuits,” Miss Bailie said, and then she stood up and left.
A few moments later, Josh came in.  My hands froze and my throat felt dry.  
“Get out!” I choked.
Josh smiled and dangled my pearls in his hand.
“Don’t you want your pearls back?” he asked.
I hesitated, then I held out my hand but he didn’t give me the necklace; instead he sat in the chair next to me.
“Leave,” I said.
He didn’t.  My grip tightened on the needles.
“Leave,” I said again.
Miss Bailie came back, carrying a tray of tea and golden biscuits.  
“What are you doing here?  This room isn’t for boys,” Miss Bailie said.
“Just wanted to say 'hello' to Cammie,” Josh said, then he got up and left.
“I hate him, I wish he’d leave,” I said.
“Well that’s fine, but he can’t leave just yet,” Miss Bailie said.
She poured us some tea and I spread a bit of jam on a biscuit.
“I have dreams about him,” I said.
I had lied.  It was really Mr. Bridshaw I dreamt about; Josh was the monster that had escaped from my nightmares.
“Nightmares you mean?” Miss Bailie asked.
“No Nanny, dreams,” I answered.
I took a bite of my biscuit.
“I see,” Miss Bailie said, and took a sip of her tea.
“No you don’t,” I mumbled into my teacup.
“What?” Miss Bailie asked.
“Nothing,” I replied.  

There was blood everywhere, blood on the walls, the floors, the ceiling, and the furniture.  Josh lay on the floor, shaking.  I pulled the needle from his neck.  He looked up at me.
“You…” he hissed.  
His body was covered in bloody holes.  I licked the blood off the needle.
“Never again!” I said, then plunged the needle into his chest.  
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he was still.

“Camille you’ve dropped a stitch!” Miss Bailie snapped.
I looked up at her.
“What?” I said.
It was only a dream.  Josh was probably off at the pub with his friends.
“You have dropped a stitch,” Miss Bailie said, and she snatched my knitting from me to fix it.
I wondered if it would be such a horrible thing if she should sit on one of my knitting needles.
“I’m sorry Nanny,” I said.
I poured myself some more tea and took another biscuit.
“Don’t eat too many of those, you’ll spoil your dinner,” Miss Bailie said.
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” I said softly.
I sipped my tea quietly.  
“Hush now,” Miss Bailie said.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
George, the butler, entered and bowed.
“A Mr. William to see Miss Dane,” George said.
Miss Bailie turned her head to me, she looked furious but she didn’t say anything.  Then she turned back to George.
“What does he want?” she hissed.
“He wants to speak with Miss Dane,” George said.  
“May I?” I asked her.
“You may,” she said, as if the idea of me leaving the room both relieved and frustrated her.

Will was standing in the Main Hall inspecting a painting of a hunting scene on the wall.  His hat was clasped in a hand behind his back.  He bowed to me when he saw me approaching.  I wished he hadn’t.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said to him.
“I must, because I am a gentleman,” Will replied.  
I smiled.  It hurt.  Will saw and bent toward me; his eyes widened.  I put a hand to my muzzle.
“Afternoon,” I said.
“Afternoon,” he said.
I felt so awkward.  I looked over my shoulder and then to him again.
“You came to see me?” I asked.  
“Yes,” he replied.
He looked to the painting again.
“Lovely piece,” he said.
“It was a gift to the family,” I said. “I hate it.  It’s barbaric.”
“In that case it is an awful piece,” Will said.
He looked around.
“Is there somewhere private we can speak?” he asked.
“This house is hardly private,” I said softly.
I looked over my shoulder again.
“The Library, we won’t be bothered there,” I said, then added, “Mostly because I’m the only person in this family who appreciates books.”

The Library was quiet, so quiet I started to have second thoughts.  Josh could be hiding there, listening, eager to report to Daddy or blackmail me.  I lead Will towards the very back.  There was a couch where we could sit.  Will sat and crossed his legs.  
“This is nice,” he said.
“My own secret, little hiding place,” I said.
Will nodded.  
“You are well?” he asked.
I paused.  I smoothed my skirt.
“Well enough,” I lied.
I couldn’t tell if he could tell I was lying.  He might have been able to.  My face was bruised.  He just nodded again.
“Mr. Bridshaw likes you,” he said.
“Course he does,” I said.
“He talks about you every day,” Will said, then added with a shrug. “Well, to me he does.”  
My lips curled into a small smile.  
“He hopes you’ll come for tea again,” Will said.
To finish the drawing, no doubt, though he probably wouldn’t say.
“I would like to,” I said.
“He hopes you’ll stay longer,” Will said.
I felt warm inside.  There was nothing more I would have loved than to pack my bags and leave home to live out the rest of my days in Atwell Abbey with Mr. Bridshaw and Will.
“I would like that as well,” I said.
Then Will put his hand on mine.  I hadn’t realized I’d been gripping my skirt so tightly.  My knuckles were white.
“You really are well?” Will asked.
I looked at him.  I think my silence was the answer he needed.  I looked away for a moment.
“How did you come to know Mr. Bridshaw?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Will smiled again, uncrossed and then re-crossed his legs.
“My family and his have a history,” he replied, then added, “And so do he and I.”
“Your parents worked for him?” I asked.
“Yes, them and my older sister, but they died when I was very young,” Will said. “Typhoid fever, we all had it but I survived.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“S’alright,” Will said.
He tapped his fingers on his knee.
“Mr. Bridshaw raised me,” he said. “Well, him and the staff in Atwell Abbey.”
“That was very kind of him,” I said.
In truth, I was a little jealous of Will.  He was blessed with a loving family and I was not so lucky.
“You will come?” Will asked.
“I will try,” I replied.
Will nodded again, and then stood up.  I followed and we walked back to the front doors.
“It was lovely to see you again, Miss Dane,” Will said.
“Please call me Camille,” I said.  
“Camille,” Will said with a smile, then put his hat on, tipped it to me and left through the doors.

The hall seemed longer today, probably because I was a little drowsy.  It had been a long day of knitting and listening to Miss Bailie moan.  I bumped into someone as I rounded a corner.  They squeaked and hurried past me.  I turned to see who it was.  It was a striped hyena female; she hardly looked older than me.  She rushed down the hall, watching me nervously over her shoulder.  I don’t think she knew the back of her dress was still open and her corset was visible, her blonde hair was coming out of its bun.  She appeared to have come from Josh’s room.  I fought the urge to knock on his door, not after what had happened last night, but then a sad little voice in my head said, “Thank god it wasn’t me.”
I closed the door behind me and crawled into bed.  I didn’t feel like dinner.  I couldn’t sit next to Josh; sit next to him where he could put his hands on me.  I think Uncle Atlas knew… I think everyone knew, but they didn’t care or want to say anything.  They didn’t care to do anything.  I stared up at the ceiling.  I think it would have looked nice with clouds and angels pained on it.  Yes, that was it.  A blue sky with white clouds and chubby little angels with pink and blue wings, then when I’d wake up I’d know everything was well.  But who would see the angels and the clouds at night?  
“Camille, are you ready?” Miss Bailie’s voice asked, she knocked on the door.
“I’m not going,” I said.
“You have to eat,” Miss Bailie said.
“I’m not hungry, Nanny,” I said lazily.
“Your father wants you downstairs,” Miss Bailie said.
“I don’t want to go, tell him I’m unwell,” I groaned.
Surprisingly she left me alone.  What a relief, I breathed.
I closed my eyes.  My bed was so soft and comfortable.  I didn’t want to get up.
“Mr. Bridshaw,” I said softly, stroking the quilt.
I smiled and breathed a deep sigh, rubbing my belly, lightly scratching at the fabric of my dress.  One of my hands stroked my thigh, pulling my dress up and caressing my fur.  
I ran my hand up my thigh and then reached with my other hand to push my bloomers down.  My fingers stroked back up my thigh and over my lower lips.  They were a little wet.  I let my fingers wander a little further.  They brushed over my clitoris and my body quivered a little.  I sighed softly and rubbed my clitoris with a single fingertip, circling it.  I think my body enjoyed that. I enjoyed it; it wasn’t scary and I wanted it to happen, not like how Josh did it where I never consented.  I could feel myself getting wetter; my lips seemed to swell a little.  My fingers moved a little deeper, one of them wandered inside me.  It felt nice.  I moved my finger in and out of my cunny, my palm rubbed against my clitoris.  

There he was again.  His sketchbook in hand, but then he set it aside.  He tugged off his shirt and my jaw dropped a little.  He was gorgeous, tall and muscular, his fur golden in the lamplight.  He moved toward me, his muscles rippling.  He climbed onto the couch with me and hovered over me.  His nose just inches from mine.  He ran his fingers through my hair, rubbing his nose against mine.  His hands stroked my face and shoulders and I leaned into him to kiss his cheek.  
Then he sat up and unbuckled his belt and pulled my bloomers off.  He pushed my dress up and caressed my thighs softly.  He entered me and kissed me softly, showering my face with light kisses.  He kissed my neck and my shoulder, gently stroking my breasts.  He snaked his hands beneath me and pulled me close to him.

“Mr. Bridshaw… Richard…” I moaned.
Someone would hear me… but I didn’t care. I pushed my finger a little deeper.  My wetness seemed to be sucking on my finger.  My nipples stiffened, pressing against my corset.  Damn the lacing.  I couldn’t reach it with my one hand, and I didn’t want to take my other hand away.  I slipped in a second finger, increasing my thrusting.  
“Richard..” I moaned a little louder.
My muscles clenched round my fingers, my body quivered a bit as a wave washed over me and I cried out.
My fingers were drenched, there was a musky but sweet smell about the room.  All was silent, then- KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Camille?  Camille, are you alright?” Miss Bailie asked.
My face flushed.  Oh god!
“Yes! Yes, I’m alright!  Everything is alright!  I just saw a mouse!” I lied.
I think she believed me.
“No mice are welcome in this house!” Miss Bailie said.
I lay back on my bed.
“Damn,” I whispered. ", "pools_count": 0, "title": "La Jeune Fille Torturée - Chapter Three", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/jpeg", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" }, { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "61" }