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The Devil's Teats

By: skyeomalley



In her heart of hearts, Goodwife Jane had to admit that she'd never approved of the maidservant's looks or behavior. Fiona, a distant cousin of Jane's, had come over from Ireland fleeing some unspecified disgrace. From the moment Jane laid eyes on Fiona's silky, fiery red hair, her milk-white skin sprinkled with the lightest of freckles and the sassy way she seemed to twitch her hips as she descended down the ship's gangway, she'd wanted to reach out and give Fiona's face a good slap. 

That Fiona's behavior, from that day to this, had been impeccably demure didn't stop Jane from unfairly punishing her in a multitude of tiny ways – and from taking a mean pleasure in watching the girl flush with impotent frustration when she did – but Jane had never quite had the chance to plumb the depths of her envy-fueled irritation with the girl.

That is, until the day Jane came across her husband peeking in at Fiona while the girl was taking a bath.

"Lucas!" Goodwife Jane hissed at her husband. "You forget yourself! For shame!"

To her shock, Lucas did not react with even a hint of embarrassment. Instead, he put his finger to his lips, indicating to her to be quiet, and then gestured to her to come closer. Filled with a mixture of rage and confusion, Goodwife Jane tiptoed over to the crack in the half-open door. "Look for yourself," Lucas whispered. "That cannot be natural. I'm telling you, it's the devil's work." 

At first, Jane did not understand what he meant. Fiona was sitting in the brass tub with her back to the door, and all Jane could see was the long white curve of her back, and that bright red hair tied in a pile on the top of her head. But as Fiona reached for a flannel washcloth that hung on the edge of the tub, she turned to her side and Jane let out an involuntary gasp.

The girl's breasts were huge, entirely disproportionate to her thin frame, yet they hung high on her chest as though lighter than air. The round globes were the size of – Jane's mind grasped for an analogy – not full-grown pumpkins, but near it, my God - and their pale, flawless skin almost glowed. Even more shocking, though, than their size and buoyancy were the abominations at their centers – dark pink circles the size of silver dollars, thickening into nipples that jutted out to an obscene, unbelievable length. Two inches? Three? Jane had never seen anything like it, even while breastfeeding her own four children. 

At first, she hesitated – could they not just be unusually large? But then she saw the fire in Lucas's eyes. He had never stared at her own body this way. He must be right. This was the devil's work.

"How – how did we never realize?" she stammered under her breath. "She must be hiding it from us somehow, the deceitful wench."

"She wraps them," Lucas whispered. "Binds them tightly in cloth, so they don't show under her dress. I first spotted it a few weeks ago, but at first I didn't believe the evidence of my own two eyes."

A dark bolt of jealousy shot through Jane's heart as she thought of her husband watching the wretch for weeks, and yet saying nothing. "Why did you not tell me? To think I've had such a satanic creature living under my roof, touching my children -" 

"Hush, woman!" But it was too late. Fiona had heard them. Her eyes flew to the half-open door. At the sight of the two stern faces glaring at her from outside she let out a yelp and ineffectively tried to cover herself with her arms. 

The sight of such a shameless creature pretending to modesty provoked Jane into a fury. She slammed the door wide open and ran at Fiona. "Harlot! She-beast! Devil's whore!" With windmilling arms, she hit at the girl's face and shoulders, sending Fiona slipping down into the tub. "Witch! Succubus! Slut! Whore!" Jane grabbed Fiona's mass of hair and hauled her, dripping wet, up onto her knees.

"PLEASE, Mistress!" Fiona spluttered. "I've done nothing wrong! Stop, please! Tell me what I've done!"

"Slut!" Jane cried. "Whore! You dare to cry to me for mercy? Look at this!" Still holding Fiona by the hair with one hand, Jane opened her other palm and smacked the girl across her breasts. "Look at these – these – monstrosities! You waggle the evidence in my face, and you tell me you're not in league with the devil?!" Jane slapped Fiona's tits again as the girl gasped for breath. The naked girl struggled to escape, and her chest heaved in a way that only provoked Jane to greater fury. Smack! Smack! Smack!

"JANE." Lucas deep voice echoed through the room. 

Jane looked up and saw her children – all boys, ages five to fifteen – gathered wide-eyed at the door, joined by the neighbor maidservant and the stable boy. At the sight of them, Fiona mewed a little in shame, and Jane watched a flush of embarrassment rise from Fiona's stomach up across her enormous, obscene bosom and right into her pretty little face. 

"Jane. I understand your horror, but there is no need for such a commotion. We must take her to Reverend Donovan. He'll know what to do." 

"Yes," Jane said, calming a little. "Of course."

"But please, please, sir!" Fiona begged piteously. "What have I done? I don't understand..."

"Children, go to your rooms," Lucas commanded. "Fiona. Not a word more from your cursed mouth or I will beat you to a pulp before Reverend Donovan has a chance to mete out your punishment." He strode over to the women, grabbed Fiona by one slim arm and dragged her from the tub. She tumbled forward and collapsed on the ground, reduced to a heap of pale, quivering flesh. 

"Sir," she whimpered. 

"SILENCE. Cover yourself." He flung Fiona's cotton shift at her head. "There's no need to fully dress, as you'll be exposing your shameful body to the Reverend shortly." 

Abashed and afraid, Fiona slid the shift over her head. The thin cotton shift did little to hide the bulging mounds of flesh beneath, and the girl's erect nipples were clearly visible beneath the dampening fabric. Realizing that their eyes were still fastened to her breasts, Fiona gave out a little cry and tried once again to cover herself with her arms. 

Jane took a heavy wool blanket off of the shelf and thrust it at the girl. "Here," she said. "Wrap yourself in this." 

Fiona shrouded herself in the blanket. Jane took hold of one of Fiona's shoulders, and Lucas grabbed the other. Together, they marched Fiona -barefoot, tearful and quaking with fear – down the dirt road to the house of the Reverend.

A few minutes later, Jane, Lucas and Fiona were standing in the Reverend's front room. The three guests faced Reverend Donovan, who was himself flanked by two more men of the Church: Reverend Godwin and Reverend Doyle. 

Fiona stared at the three religious men, terrified to realize that they would be the ones to decide her fate.

Reverend Donovan, the head of the local church, was a fierce-looking man of about sixty-five, with a shock of white hair on his head and two smaller tufts of hair protruding from his nostrils.  Fiona knew he had no fondness for her – he had boxed her ears for impertinence in front of the whole congregation last year, even though she was a full-grown woman, all of nineteen.

Reverend Godwin was a tall, handsome man with shadowy hollows under his cheeks and small blue eyes. The disdainful way he'd run his gaze over her from head to toe before Lucas had even begun to explain the situation made Fiona doubt he'd show her any kindness.

And Reverend Doyle – Fiona had been aware of men like Reverend Doyle since she'd first begun to develop, men with piggy faces, loose, sensuous lips and fast, creeping fingers. 

She shivered.

"You won't understand unless you see for yourself, Reverend ," Lucas was explaining. "Words can hardly do it justice. She denies everything, of course, but the evidence is right there on her body. This girl is in league with the devil."

Reverend Donovan gave a dry cough. "I'll be the judge of that, Goodman Lucas. But we're blessed to have Reverend Godwin and Reverend Doyle here with us today. They're experts in the field of witchcraft."

Witchcraft! Fiona's heart sank. Against her better judgment, the words bubbled to her lips: "But Reverend, please, I've never done any witchcraft, none! I don't know what they're accusing me of, but I'm innocent, I swear!" 

Reverend Donovan ignored her, but Goodman Lucas's heavy hand gripped her shoulder painfully, and she fell silent. 

"Let us see this evidence you speak of, Goodman Lucas," Reverend Godwin said coldly, and the others nodded. 

Lucas, Jane and Fiona all froze for a minute, united together by the strangeness of allowing nakedness – even the devil's nakedness – in Reverend Donovan's front room. 

"Show us these abominations, but keep your lower half covered, as decency requires," Reverend Donovan said sternly.

Fiona hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She had no desire to expose herself to this room full of people, but unwrapping her top half while covering her bottom was difficult, given that she was only wearing a shift and a blanket. She couldn't lift the shift over her head without giving them a view of her entire body, but what else was she to do?

"Hurry, wench. Your foolish tactics will not deceive us," said Reverend Doyle, and Fiona could tell from his voice and the eager way he looked at her that he wouldn't hesitate to closely examine the "evidence" himself. No wonder he'd become such an expert in witchcraft!

Finally, Fiona lowered the blanket and wrapped it around her waist like a skirt. The last shreds of her modesty led her to turn her back on the assembled audience for a moment as she slipped her arms from the holes of the shift and tried to tug the top of it down over her breasts. No good – the shift was too tight. Tangled in the cloth, she twisted her arms and heard the fabric rip. Cold air flowed over her half-naked breasts. Dear God, was she truly about to be examined by these strange men? 

Impatient, Goodman Lucas reached over and tore the remaining cloth from her chest. Fiona cried out in horror as he spun her around to face the Reverends. Helplessly, she attempted to shield her huge, swinging tits from their view with her hands. Lucas pinned her arms behind her back and pulled her up close against him. Her head drooped, and her long red hair spilled over her chest, falling like a delicate veil between their stares and her shame. 

"None of that!" Lucas cried, twisting her hair in his hand and yanking her head back. "Look at this, Reverend!" he cried, echoing his wife's shouts from earlier in the day. "Look!" As he shouted, he shook her, brandishing her at the men so that her dark-nippled breasts bobbled up and down. 

"Have you ever seen such swollen teats on such a tiny woman? Even if she were with child, it would be unnatural, but as you can see, her belly's flat as a board. And the nipples, dear Lord – the color, the size – they'd be more at home on a cow than on a woman!" 

Looking down first at her naked tits as they jiggled and quivered, and then up at the men whose mouths hung open as their eyes crawled over her body like flies, Fiona had never imagined such shame. Her knees went weak, and she felt like she might lose control of her bladder. "Uhnnnnnft," she moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.



When she jerked awake again, Goodman Lucas was still holding her upright, her arms pinned behind her back. She had been doused with a cup of cold water. Rivulets of it pooled in her cleavage and two large drops hung, glistening, off each of her nipples. The water had revived her, but nonetheless Reverend Godwin, the harsh, handsome one, strode over to her and slapped her face so hard that it stung. "Awake, harlot!" he cried.

He turned to the other religious men, who appeared to have been struck dumb at the sight of Fiona's unnaturally large and buoyant breasts. 

"I know what this is," Reverend Godwin announced. "I have seen it before. This woman has been giving suck to demons. These are the devil's teats."

Upon hearing the Reverend's pronouncement, Goodman Lucas flung Fiona away from him in horror. She landed face-first -or rather, breast-first- and slid forward, jamming her boobs on the ground and scraping her nipples against the rough boards. "Owch," she cried, gathering her soft, abused flesh in her hands.

"Stop her!" Reverend Godwin cried, and yanked her up by the hair before twisting her arms behind her. This was the second – or was it the third? – time she'd been mistreated that way so far today. How much more could her poor body take? "Oh, God!" she cried. "Help me, please!" 

Jane, who'd been standing silently to the side, cuffed Fiona across the mouth. On the verge of hysterics, she shrieked, "Filthy girl! Calling on God when you've been nursing the devil!"

"Not the devil." Fiona heard Reverend Godwin's words echo authoritatively in her ear. "Devils. Minor devils, most likely. They're very small, almost invisible to the naked eye. That's why she keeps covering her teats with her hands. She wants to give them shelter so they can come and suck."

Was the man insane? 

"No! No! It's not truuuuuue," she wailed, but Goodman Lucas was nodding as though Reverend Godwin's lunacy made perfect sense. 

"Yes, she's always been very secretive, trying to keep them covered. I told you, Jane, the way I caught her wrapping herself in cloth before she dressed. I thought she was just being sneaky, but now I see that she was keeping herself for her devil's spawn."

"That is certainly the case," Reverend Godwin said sagely. "Although, to be precise, they are not her spawn. This girl has not yet been impregnated by a devil. She is more of a – how shall I put it? - a wet nurse. Her devotion to her master is being tested. If she gives this part of her body slavishly enough to the demons that he sends to her, then she will have proved her allegiance, and he will fill her womb with his seed. If that happens, she will be lost to us, and her soul will be doomed to hell forever. But before that happens, we still have the chance to drive the demons away, and lure her back to salvation."

"I see." Goodman Lucas nodded. "But how will we do that?"

"No! Demons, nurses, children, devils – this is madness! Utter madness!" Fiona babbled, but everyone ignored her.

"It will be a long and difficult process," Reverend Godwin said. "To be honest with you, her mind may not survive. She may be left a madwoman, or a drooling idiot. But it is her only hope."

Fiona stood in the corner of the room. The wool blanket Jane had given her was still wrapped around her waist, but the late-afternoon light from the room's one window tracked brightly across her naked breasts. She held her hands clasped behind her back, as she had been instructed, and tried not to think about what the future held. 

Goodwife Jane, Goodman Lucas and the three religious men sat around the table, discussing her fate in low, secretive tones. Reverend Donovan was writing something on a piece of parchment paper. As Fiona watched, he dipped his quill pen into the inkwell and signed his name with a flourish.

"There," he said loudly. "So. You understand your instructions."

"Yes," Goodwife Jane said. "I understand. But Reverend, I can hardly believe – it's so public – I mean, the souls of the children – what will people think?"

"It doesn't matter what they think. When you've placed this proclamation to the public notice board, they will know that I have ordered it, and how they must behave."

"I know, but -"

"Enough. Take her home. On the way, nail this proclamation to the board. Better yet, have her do it. Best the whole town know at once. Once you've returned to your household, if there are any chores she has yet to complete, she may do them. We do not want to inconvenience you overmuch, and we realize this will cause a profound disruption in your household. In the daytime, someone must always stay with her to ensure that she obeys her instructions, but it needn't be you. At night, she will be delivered here so that we may watch her carefully and do whatever it takes to drive the devils away from her. Doing so may take a few days, a few weeks, or a month or more. There is no way to tell, but we all must persevere. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Reverend," Jane said. 

"A few more things, Goodwife Jane," the handsome one, Reverend Godwin, added. "First, do not converse with the harlot more than necessary to convey your instructions, and do not suffer her to speak to others. The devil has not completely possessed her, but she may still deceive you with her seductive entreaties. Also –" 

He rose from the table and stood close to Fiona, staring with brows furrowed down at her enormous chest. He seemed intent in thought, and the skin of her breasts seemed to crawl under the intensity of his gaze. She tried to shrink back away from him, but he pressed forward until her back was up against the wall. Then, to her horror, he placed his palms under her breasts and plumped them meditatively, as though weighing them. She tried to writhe away from the clinical yet over-familiar touch, but he cupped her flesh with his hands and then rolled her nipples meditatively between finger and thumb. 

"Eeeemmmpfh," she whimpered, and rolled her eyes anxiously. She twisted her head and tried to look away, only to find Reverend Doyle staring at her, almost grinning, his eyes shining with unconcealed lust.

"Reverend Donovan," Reverend Godwin said calmly, as though he weren't in the middle of groping a half-naked, freakishly buxom maidservant in front of an array of guests. "Do you have a pot of grease, of the kind you might use to shine a saddle or a pot?" 

"I believe so," said Reverend Donovan. "Goodwife Anna!" he called out to his servant, an elderly lady who'd been watching the proceedings from the kitchen doorway with a horrified yet strangely avid expression on her face. 

Anna hurried to the kitchen and returned with a small tub of clear, thick grease. She handed it to Reverend Godwin, who took it and then turned back to Fiona. 

"Place your hands behind your head, harlot," he said.

She obeyed, trembling.

"This may not work," Reverend Godwin said to the assembled company. "The demons are quick and clever. But not only is the grease slippery, it smells and tastes foul, so it may prevent them from feeding even if, by any chance the girl manages to briefly evade your surveillance." 

Reverend Godwin knelt down, so that his face was directly at the level of Fiona's massive cleavage. He dipped two fingers into the tub of grease and scooped out a heavy glob. Fiona knew what was coming, yet she couldn't help but gasp as he slopped the cold grease onto one of her breasts, and then repeated the maneuver with the other. 

"Reverend Donovan, might you assist me?" 

Reverend Donovan stood to obey, but Revered Doyle practically knocked him over in his rush to reach Fiona first. She squeezed her eyes shut in disgust as the mauling began. Each man used both hands to massage the disgusting, slippery grease into her flesh, squeezing and squashing her tits until she groaned. 

Reverend Godwin took a stern, almost businesslike approach to the task of greasing her breast; but the fat Reverend Doyle could barely contain his glee. He ran his creeping fingers up and down her tit, jiggling it up and down like a child with a new favorite toy. Despite the fact that her skin was now covered in filthy grease, he stared at the bouncing breast with such greedy hunger that Fiona almost expected him to start licking and lapping at her flesh. 

Finally, Reverend Godwin interrupted the man's play: "Reverend Doyle. Please maintain your focus, and remember to concentrate on the nipple, as that is the fount from which the demons feed."

Obediently, Reverend Doyle reached back into the tub and slathered Fiona's pink nipple with grease. He tried to rub the lubricant in but the nipple slithered out of his fingers like a worm. He grabbed at it clumsily but it kept slipping away. 


The Devil's Teats Ch. 02



(This is Part 2...for Fiona's public spanking, and to learn how she got into this mess, check out Part 1) 

*

Twenty minutes later, Fiona was standing on her tiptoes in the town square, awkwardly trying to nail a piece of paper to the wall of the local barbershop. The wall served as a kind of unofficial bulletin board where notices and advertisements could be posted, and now Fiona was adding Reverend Godwin's hastily scrawled note to the mix. 

Attention: To all the people of River's Forge: This is to declare that the maidservant FIONA JENKINS is in league with the DEVIL. She has taken DEMONS to her BREASTS and has given them SUCK. To prevent her from trafficking with SATAN, she must not be permitted to cover her BODY, for if she does, she will give the DEMONS shelter. Anyone who attempts to aid FIONA JENKINS must also be considered IN LEAGUE with the DEVIL. So says your REVEREND, Emmanuel Godwin. 

Once they'd reached town, Lucas had sent a boy to fetch a hammer and nails from a neighbor, and Fiona had been instructed to pin up the notice detailing her shame. The only open spot was nearly six feet above the ground, and Fiona could barely reach it. She attempted to hammer one corner of the piece of paper into the wall, but she kept missing and accidentally pounding her fingers. Because she had her face to the wall, she couldn't see how many of the townspeople had gathered to watch her, but she was still uncomfortably aware of the way her bare breasts were pulled up and outward as she reached her arms over her head. She would have thought that the public spanking she'd just received would have burned all the shame out of her forever, but somehow that wasn't the case. There was something about being naked (well, half-naked -- she still had Jane's old blanket tied around her waist) in such a familiar setting, surrounded by the same old dull shops she visited almost every day, that made her feel very strange, as though she was wandering through a dream. 

Splat!

Fiona nearly swallowed the nail she was holding between her teeth when the first rotten vegetable splatted against her skin. It must have been something soft -- a tomato, maybe -- or very rotten, because it slid along the curve of her bare back and began to drip its juices down beneath the blanket. She could feel the cool droplets pooling in the cleft between her sore buttocks. It might have felt good, if it hadn't been so disgusting. But there was no time to stop and no point in trying to shield herself. The sooner this was done, the sooner she'd be allowed to leave...although she didn't much like to think about what fate might await her once she'd been turned over to the reverends.

A few more vegetables and bits of garbage were clinging to her back by the time she'd gotten the second nail halfway into the wood. Just a few more taps with the hammer, and she'd be --

Crack!

Fiona shrieked and dropped the hammer, which fell clattering to the ground. That hadn't been a vegetable. It had been an egg, and someone had whipped it right at the side of her breast. It had burst, of course, and now her right tit -- which was already covered in filthy smears of dirt, mud and grease -- was dripping with goopy egg white.

Fiona twisted her head around, glaring. The crowd that had gathered around her was smaller than she'd guessed -- fewer than fifteen people, all told, mostly young men. She wanted to shout out, "Who did that?!" but even if she'd known, there was nothing she could have done. A few of them snickered. None of them met her eyes.

She bent over to retrieve the hammer, and was nailed by another egg, right in the ass.

The third egg got her just as she finished posting the announcement, in the left tit this time. As she felt the slimy yolk trickle down her breast, tears pooled in her eyes. She had never felt so dirty in all of her life. She wanted a bath so desperately -- but the thought of bathing brought back terrible memories of this morning, when her ordeal had just begun. She turned to Lucas and Jane, mutely begging them to take her away. Although she saw a twinge of disgust in their eyes -- she was, after all, covered in dirt and garbage -- they gestured to her to come with them. Gratefully, she followed them out of the square.

"Wait!"

Fiona stiffened. 

Although she was too terrified to turn around, she recognized that voice: George, her spurned "lover." Hadn't he tortured her enough?

Apparently not. 

"Hold on!" The voice was coming closer. Fiona saw Jane and Lucas turn toward their interrogator, and reluctantly, she followed their lead. George swaggered up to them, and Fiona was sure she saw him try to stifle a grin. 

"Can we help you, George?" Jane asked.

"Begging pardon, Goodwife Jane," George said, "But I have a question for you. Regarding Fiona, of course."

"Of course," Jane said coldly.

"I was reading the announcement Fiona was kind enough to post, and it seems to me that Reverend Godwin said that on account of her witchcraft, she wasn't supposed to be allowed to cover her body."

He's going to make me take the blanket off, Fiona thought. Well, let him. It doesn't matter to me. Everybody's seen me already. Besides, the rough wool scraped the raw bits of her bottom where the switch had scratched her. It would almost be a relief to take it off.

Jane said, "Frankly, George, I wouldn't have expected you to be able to read. That half-wit Albert sometimes struck me as cleverer than you. But yes, you're right. So what?"

George hitched his thumbs into his belt loops. His eyes roved over Fiona, but it hardly bothered her. They were cruel eyes, but they didn't seem to be much lust in them -- after all, she was so dirty and bedraggled, she must have looked like some kind of street urchin.

"The problem, Goodwife Jane, is this. It looks to me like Fiona is right covered up."

"Are you mad, boy?" Lucas interrupted. "You've got eyes in your head. She's been stripped to the waist, and it was in front of Reverend Godwin that we stripped her. So stop your foolishness. We've got to be getting back." 

"Is this how she looked when she left Reverend Godwin's?"

Lucas and Jane exchanged glances. They'd both been worried about what the Reverend might say when they brought Fiona back in this condition, but what of it? They'd kept her unclothed, just as they'd been instructed to do. 

George continued in a loud voice that was, no doubt, intended as much for the townspeople as much as for the trio standing in front of him. 

"The problem, first, is that the notice says that she's to keep her body uncovered, and yet half of her body is wrapped in a stinking blanket. How many devils she could be hiding under there I can't say. But the bigger problem, as I see it, is that she's covered in filth! Her tits, including the very nipples on which Satan has been sucking, have been completely hidden from the eye by mud and dirt! You claim to being carrying out the Reverend's work here, and yet this girl is garbed in the devil's disguise!"

Jane pursed her lips. Lucas furrowed his brow. They were caught in the same dilemma Fiona herself had been in just a few hours before: someone right in front of them was clearly talking madness, and yet to argue was to get caught up in the trap. But they were cannier than Fiona had been. Rather than debate George, they only nodded, as though they had little stake in the outcome of the debate.

"I hadn't thought of that, George. You're right. What should we do?" Jane asked.

George hesitated. He'd obviously expected them to argue. Indeed, he'd been planning to accuse them of being in league with the devil, so that he could try to take charge of Fiona -- and her punishments -- himself. But now he had to improvise.

"She, uh -- she must be cleansed."

"Of course," Jane said. "As soon as we return home, we will ensure that she bathes."

"No! I mean -- it is too urgent for that. You read the notice! At any moment, she could begin her unholy traffic with Satan's spawn. Why do you insist on this delay?"

Jane said, "We're not insisting on anything George. And we have no hurry, other than to obey the Reverend's orders to return Fiona by sundown." 

The truth was that Jane seen the lust in her husband's eyes as she spanked Fiona, and the episode had kindled desire in her own heart too. She didn't know if they'd be able to...make use...of Fiona once they'd returned home, but she was certainly eager to spend some time between the sheets with Lucas.

They turned to the townspeople, who, it seemed, lurked like shadows in every corner, ready to swarm forth at the least sign of entertainment, and who -- smelling trouble -- had once again begun to gather.

"Is there a problem with the way we have been disciplining Fiona? We do not pretend to be experts in witchcraft. If the good people of this town feel that something else should be done, they are welcome to tell us."

Goddamn Jane! Fiona thought. Look how eager she is to turn me over to this mob.

The townsfolk murmured among themselves. The slavering lust to punish that had possessed them during Fiona's spanking had subsided. No one, it seemed, took George's accusations too seriously, but neither were they eager to relinquish Fiona and go back to the ordinary business of their day. A few of the men nodded or shrugged. "Why not clean her?" someone called from the back of the crowd. "She could certainly use a good wash!"

"Aye," someone else echoed. "Scrub the girl up."

"I am happy to ensure that Fiona cleans herself once we reach home," Jane said, "I agree that she needs a good bath. But George, if you are suggesting that we wash Fiona here, in public, well...I won't protest. But I won't take the lead, either. This goes far beyond either my responsibility as her mistress or the instructions that were given to us by the Reverend. If this is to be done, someone else must take the lead...and take the responsibility if the Reverend is displeased."

Perhaps Jane had been trying to help her after all, Fiona thought, for when confronted directly, George wavered. As crazy as this day had become, if George sinned too openly with Fiona, there might yet be consequences George's mouth gaped open and shut like a fish, torn between the temptation of getting his hands on Fiona's sweet flesh and the chance he might be held accountable for his sins. But before he could answer, an unexpected voice called out from the crowd.

"I'll do it. I'll take responsibility for cleaning the girl."

Fiona couldn't have been more shocked if God himself had called down from the clouds. 

The speaker was the barber, Jacob Smith. There was no more staid, respectable or slow-moving man for miles around. The barber was in his sixties, and sported a bald head and a bushy white mustache. Why on earth would he volunteer for this task? He had never been particularly kind to Fiona, but neither had he ever looked at her with lust. Apparently, Fiona wasn't the only one who was surprised. "You, Goodman Smith?" Jane asked. 

"Why would you want this responsibility?"

Goodman Smith scratched his head. "No real reason, except that somebody's got to do it. I don't doubt that you're doing the best you can, Goodwife Jane, but the truth is that you're the one who let her get into this state. I think it's possible that your own feelings -- and the girl's sins - may have clouded your judgment a bit. I believe in my Reverend, and if he says the girl shouldn't be allowed to cover her body, then she needs to get scrubbed down right quick. I can barely see the color of her skin under all that dirt. That said, it's obvious what this lout" -- and here he gestured with a thumb towards George - "is up to. He just wants to get the girl in some dark corner so he can lift her legs up over her head and take his pleasure. I don't begrudge him that -- we were all young once -- but it means he can't be trusted. Anyway, I'm the barber, which means I'm the doctor and the nursemaid and the confessor of this town when the Reverend isn't present. Cleaning this girl up is my job if it's anyone's. I'll do it right here in the square so that no one can complain that I'm sinning. My apprentice can help me. Won't take more than half an hour."

Ten minutes later, Fiona was standing on a small upraised platform in the center of the town square. The barber's apprentice, a youth named Joe, had been sent to gather supplies, and he had laid them in a small pile on the corner of the platform: a wooden bucket filled to the brim with water, a chunk of soap, a tin cup, a washcloth, several brushes from the stables and a coil of rope. 

"Give me your hands, lass," Smith said to Fiona. "I know you've been behaving, but I don't quite trust you yet. Anyway, it will make things easier if you're not squirming around."

Mutely, Fiona offered her pale wrists to the barber. He had a calm, clinical demeanor that both soothed her and made her realize that begging would be useless. Smith looped the rope around her wrist and tied it in a loose knot, then tossed the remainder of the coil over a tree branch that extended over the platform. As Smith pulled, Fiona's arms were stretched up over her head and she was dragged higher and higher until only the balls of her feet touched the platform. Her body was stretched out to its full length, her dirty, quivering breasts lifted fully into view. 

Smith secured the rope to a post and snatched the blanket from around Fiona's waist. Despite herself, she flushed from head to foot. Now she was naked again. If Smith was going to wash her, she guessed he was going to do a thorough job. 

Taking one of the horse-brushes from the pile, Smith walked up behind her. She stiffened, but all he did was drag the rough bristles through her tangled red hair. It felt so good that she rolled her head back to better feel the refreshing scrape of the brush against her scalp.

It was late afternoon. The town square was strangely hushed. Fiona was exhausted. Her whole body ached from the strain of the beatings she had received, and as the barber ran the brush through her hair, her shame slowly drained out of her and her thoughts went quiet, until she felt as docile and simpleminded as an animal. After a few long, calming strokes of the brush, it almost didn't matter that she had been tied up and strung from a branch and was now dangling naked and helpless in full view of everyone she knew. At least no one was beating her. The hands touching her weren't angry. All Fiona wanted was to please, to be touched gently and to avoid pain.

The barber brushed her red hair until it shone, and with practiced hands, pulled it back off of her face, weaving it into a long, thick braid that hung down her back. Then he bent down, scooped up a cupful of water from the bucket, and poured it over Fiona's head. Even though she'd been expecting it, the splash of cold made Fiona gasp. She shook her head and blinked her eyes as the water poured over her face. It wasn't until the cool liquid reached her lips that she realized how thirsty she'd been. She lifted her chin and opened her mouth, lapping the water up with her pink parched tongue.

Once Fiona's head and face were soaked, the barber dampened the washcloth and smeared it with a bit of soap. When he put it over her face, she tried to wriggle away out of instinct, but he grasped her braid and held her head firmly in place. His fingers, wrapped in the washcloth, probed the corners of her eyes, her nostrils and the edges of her mouth. Her ears came next. Again, she couldn't help but struggle a little, kicking her legs at the intrusion, but his strong hands forced her to be still. When her entire face was covered in a soapy film, he dumped another cup of water over her head, rinsed the cloth and patted her face and neck dry.

Her face stung, but it felt good. Fiona blinked her eyes and looked out over the square. As the long summer dusk settled over the town, air was rapidly cooling. A small crowd milled about the platform, but they seemed only vaguely interested, and often turned away from her to talk among themselves. By now, most of the town had been able to examine Fiona's extraordinary proportions, and a public washing didn't compare to the sight of a public spanking when it came to excitement. How strange, she thought, that in less than a day the sight of her nakedness had become nothing remarkable. Of course, she still had a few more engaged spectators -- Albert and George, Lucas and Fiona. What they were thinking, she couldn't even begin to imagine.

The barber came and stood in front of her, blocking her vision. He took both her shoulders in his hand and gazed down at her monumental bosom. Fiona was put in mind of the moment just a few hours earlier when Reverend Godwin had surveyed her breasts speculatively before smearing them with grease. The layers of filth that covered her chest were truly disgusting. Her silver dollar sized aureolas, normally a bright pink that contrasted dramatically with her milk-white skin, had been so blackened by dirt that you couldn't tell where they ended and the flesh of her breasts began. Her nipples, which seemed to have been permanently stretched by the abuse they'd taken that day, were caked with a coat of dried mud so thick that it had begun to crack. Here and there, dollops of the smelly grease that Reverend Doyle had rubbed all over her tits shone through the mud, but they were difficult to tell apart from the sticky goo of egg white that dripped down the skin on the sides of her breasts. Bits of garbage still clung to her thin, concave stomach, and a shred of old cabbage was lodged in her belly button. No wonder everyone had begun looking at her as though she were nothing but an animal! She felt like a hog that had been left to root around in its own filth. Even the barber, who had seemed so detached and professional up until now, curled his lip a bit in disgust. After everything that had happened, how could she ever get clean?

The barber began by using his hands. He hefted one of Fiona's enormous, filthy tits and rolled it roughly between his palms. Working from the base of her breast, he used his fingers to remove the worst of the mess, pulling it off in gobs and chunks. He scratched much of the mud off of her nipple, digging at the tender skin with his fingernails. Dipping his hands ever so often in the bucket to rinse them, he continued his ministrations on her other breast, until the dirt had retreated to isolated patches, and bright, shining streaks of pale wet flesh shone through. It hurt, but Fiona was so eager to be clean that she didn't utter even a peep of complaint. 

When he had removed the bulk of the dirt from Fiona's breasts, the barber picked up the bucket of water and placed the bottom edge just beneath Fiona's neck. Then he tilted it slowly so that the grimy water sluiced out over her tits and stomach. He poured half of the water over her front and half over her back, then called out to his apprentice to come and refill the bucket. As the boy was doing so, the barber picked up another brush, this one slightly softer than the one he had used to comb Fiona's hair. He rubbed a thick slice of soap along the brush until foamed, and then brought the horse brush to Fiona's chest.

Even though she wanted to be clean -- even though the last thing she wanted to do was struggle -- when those cruel sharp bristles came scraping across her breasts, Fiona couldn't help but rebel. The brush was made for the tough hide of horses, not for a girl's vulnerable skin. "Aieeeeeee!" she cried, straining desperately to shield her soft exposed tits, but her arms were tied well above her head, so she just flailed about, her huge soapy tits flopping back and forth beneath the brush. It hurt so bad! 

Without comment, the barber took the cloth he'd used to wash her face and jammed it into Fiona's open mouth. He shoved her helplessly kicking legs together and pinned them between his own, then took hold of her braid and yanked her body backwards so that her nipples pointed to the sky. 




The Devil's Teats Ch. 02



Fiona's eyes were wide with terror, and she felt like she was choking on the soapy cloth. "Hmmmmph! Hmmmmph!" she gasped.

"Sssssssssh, now, don't move, or you'll hurt yourself," the barber said. Still using one hand to hold her in position, he loomed over her and brought the brush to her slippery breasts, rubbing them down in tight, circular motions. Oh, it hurt! Oh, it burned! It felt like the flesh was being flayed from her chest. He scrubbed every inch of her breasts, moving from the outside in toward the tender centers. When those sharp bristles finally reached her nipples her whole body spasmed and shook, but the barber had rigged her up so tightly that only her abused breasts jiggled beneath the pressure of the brush, helping along as it did its cruel work.

When he was done with her breasts, the barber brushed down her stomach, which wasn't so bad, and her armpits, which felt just as awful as her tits, but in a different way. Then he released her legs and head, allowing her to stand back up again, and washed her back and legs, which actually felt good. He scraped only lightly over her whipped buttocks, for which she was grateful -- but then, her bum had never had a chance to get quite as dirty as the rest of her. By then, the apprentice had returned with the bucket, and the barber took the rag from between her jaws and allowed her to rinse the soapy taste out with a swallow of water before pouring the rest of it over her body, washing away the suds that clung to every inch of her and dangled like clouds from her nipples. 

When he was done, Fiona looked as though she had been reborn. Every inch of her top half glistened. Her hair still hung in a neat red braid, with only a few tendrils escaping from its grasp to curl around her face. Her skin was a gleaming, shining white, with an overtone of pink where the bristles had rubbed her. Her wet eyelashes clumped together, framing her shining green eyes like stars. Her cheeks were rosy, but not so rosy that you couldn't make out each charming freckle. Her pouty lips, swollen from being stretched around the rag, were puffed and red. Her slim arms, still tied up over her head, beautifully displayed the buoyant, pumpkin-sized globes of her breasts. The only part of Fiona that didn't quite seem to have recovered from the day's travails were her nipples. Entirely, almost painfully erect, each one was still stretched out as long as a man's pinky finger, and flushed a dark, angry pink. They shook and quivered and pointed slightly askew, giving the breasts an almost cockeyed look. 

Clearly proud of his work, the barber dried his hands briskly on the towel and began packing up his things. 

"Excellent work, sir, excellent," came a voice from the crowd. "But I don't quite believe you've finished."

Fiona didn't have to look to see who the voice belonged to. She knew it was George, her eternal tormenter, but she didn't care. Her head felt totally empty, as though it too had been scrubbed clean. Her skin burned with the washing and her arms ached slightly from being bound, but other than that she felt almost at peace. 

"What do you mean, young man? The notice said that her breasts should be kept uncovered, and so they have been. She won't give suck to any devils under the cover of dirt."

"Actually, I believe the notice said that her body needed to be exposed."

"I don't wish to argue with you. Her body is entirely visible."

"And I don't wish to argue with you. I simply want to ensure that the reverend's instructions are followed to the letter. I noticed that you took the time to tame the hair on her head, did you not?"

"I did. It kept falling forward and covering her breasts."

"So it provided a place for devils to hide, correct?"

"That was my fear, yes."

"And yet you've overlooked an equally important hiding place."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

Leering, George gestured to Fiona's crotch, which was covered in a thick mat of curly red hair. "Look at that devil's fire patch."

The barber almost spat in distaste. "I don't care to."

George took on a tone of high offense. "You don't care to? It doesn't matter if you care to. You volunteered for the job of cleaning this wench. You're the barber, for the love of God. And yet you're willing to allow that abomination to go untouched? She could be hiding a host of devils in there. Indeed, where else would she be hiding them? That tangled mess was created for nothing less." He paused, as though even he couldn't quite believe the audacity of what he was about to say. "I demand that it be removed, for the safety of the town and the souls of our children."

The barber snorted. "Since when have you given two cents for --"

He was interrupted by another young man's gleeful shout. "He's right! You're the barber! Shave it off!"

"I hardly think that appropriate."

Fiona glanced about nervously. They couldn't. They wouldn't. How could they? She squeezed her thighs together tightly.

But the crowd, sensing drama, was gearing up for a fight. 

"Do it!" someone cried. 

"What are you afraid of?" someone else shouted.

The barber ran his hands through what was left of his own hair and turned to Lucas and Jane. "I've never done anything like that. I wouldn't know where to begin. I fear I might hurt her."

Jane looked almost as nervous as Fiona at the thought of the barber's sharp razor approaching a woman's most delicate parts, but Lucas only shrugged. "I've trusted my face to you a thousand times. I don't think it's necessary, but I also don't think there's any risk."

"But should we really be letting that George tell us what to do? I don't trust his motives. The safety of the town, my foot. He's just having fun."

A group of drunken youths had taken up a chant: "Shave it off!" they shouted. "Shave it off! Shave it off!" 

Fiona, sensing the tide turning against her, began to whimper fearfully.

"Listen to that!" Lucas exclaimed. "If you ask me, this town is on the brink of insanity. I don't want to run afoul of anyone who thinks they know the first thing about devils. It's noble of you to try to defend her, but if it were up to me, I'd just do what they want and be done with it."

The barber sighed. "All right. I'll do it. I don't like it, but I'll do it. Boy, run and get my tools -- scissors, lather, razors -- all of it. I'll need some help. Lucas, hand me your knife. I'm going to cut her down."

Lucas passed the knife to the barber, who severed the rope that tied Fiona to the tree. As soon as she was free, Fiona tried to dash off the platform and escape. She knew it was hopeless, but her life was at stake! They were going to put a razor blade between her legs! They were going to cut her on her cunt, and she was going to bleed to death! Oh, God! 

Fiona was in such a panic that she flew off the platform and ran straight into Lucas's barrel chest. He put his wide arms around her and held her against him until she stopped struggling, and then pulled her back onto the the platform. "Hush, now," he said.

"Shhhhhh, girl," the barber echoed. "Listen to me. I don't want to do this any more than you want it to happen, but neither of us has much choice. The one thing I do know, though, is that if you struggle and fight, you might really hurt yourself. Your only chance is to lie perfectly still and trust me. I'll be as careful as I can. All right?"

Tearfully, Fiona nodded. This day had been terrible and humiliating, but she'd never felt like her life was actually in danger. Now, she had to obey the barber and let him cut the very hair off of her most private parts, or risk having his razor slip and cut her terribly. She was trembling, and her stomach was knotted with fear. She was afraid she might throw up. 

"So you agree? You'll do as I tell you, and not fight?"

"Yes, sir."

"Promise?"

"I promise, sir."

"Good." By now, the apprentice had returned with the barber's bag. "Lord," he muttered to himself. "How on earth should I do this?" He paced back and forth thoughtfully.

"All right," he said finally. "I'll need some help. Lucas, stay here with me. And a few more strong fellows..." he looked out into the crowd, obviously hoping to find a volunteer other than George, but before he could speak, George had bounded eagerly onto the platform. 

"Fine," the barber sighed. "You started this, you might as well end it. But no funny business, understand? Or I'll make sure the Reverend has your hide."

"Sure thing," George said, winking at Fiona, who was still gripped tightly in Lucas's arms. She just stared at him apprehensively, so mute and cowed that he snapped his fingers in her face to make her flinch. The barber called two more men up from the crowd and had them join him on the platform.

"Lucas, put her down so that she's lying face up."

Lucas eased Fiona onto the platform. True to her word, her limbs stayed as limp and malleable as putty, though she still kept her thighs pressed tightly together. 

"Could one of you give her your jacket for her to use as a pillow? She may as well be comfortable."

One of the men balled up the jacket and slid it gently beneath Fiona's head. There was little of the clowning that had accompanied Fiona's spanking -- perhaps the barber's seriousness was having a positive effect on the men.

"Now, I know she's promised not to move, but just for safety's sake, I'm going to have you hold her down. The two of you at the top - Jake, Sylvester -- you each take an arm. Fiona, I'm going to have you pull your knees toward you and open your legs a bit. You can keep your feet on the ground. Remember, you promised to be a good girl and obey me. Lucas, George -- hold her knees open. Wonderful. Now, don't worry. I'm going to begin by using the scissors. It's very safe."

Fiona squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to move. Four men were pinning her naked to the ground while a fifth man was crouched between her legs, his hands hovering inches away from her spread pussy, but her shame was nothing compared to the terror she felt as the barber took his small silver scissors and began snipping away at the hair between her legs. Clip clip. Clip clip. Every so often she could feel the cool brush of metal against her skin. The barber seemed to be focusing more on the thick mound of bush atop her lower abdomen, and less on the finer hairs that covered the puffy lips beneath...but still, her buttocks clenched in fear. Clip clip. Clip clip. 

Both to Fiona and to the men who were holding her down, eager for a more thrilling show, the barber's careful trimming seemed to go on forever. After a few minutes, thanks to his efforts, her unruly red pubic hair had been reduced to a short neat triangle that barely covered her skin. Fiona's pussy, which had been so aromatic and richly swollen after the spanking, had curled in on itself, the two pale nether lips pressed neatly together like a white clam's shell. Both George and Lucas, who each had an excellent view of Fiona's cunt, passed the time speculating on ways that they might make her juices start to flow, but in deference to the barber, they kept their hands to themselves.

"There." The barber sat back on his haunches. "Thank you for cooperating, Fiona, although I'm afraid that was the easy part. Gentlemen, here's what I want to try. Jake, Sylvester -- take hold of her shoulders. Firmly, please. I'm fairly sure she's going to squirm. George, you pull her right knee open a bit further. Good. Now Lucas, without hurting her, I want you to take hold of her ankle and raise her leg up as far as it will go -- up and out. She seems to be quite flexible -- perfect."

Fiona let out a nervous squeak as the men readjusted her limbs. If she thought she'd been exposed before - during the ass spanking or the cunt spanking; when she'd been strung up to have her tits washed, or when her legs had been forcibly spread so that the whole town could see and smell her arousal -- she'd been wrong. This was exposure. As the barber had instructed, she was lying on her back, her thighs spread. Her right foot was still on the ground, her knee bent, but her left leg was up over her shoulder, forcibly held in place by Lucas. The posture splayed her cunt wide open. Five curious heads stared down at her plump white labia, which were no longer shut tight like a clam but now gaped to reveal the curling pink inner lips that surrounded her small dark slit. 

When the barber stepped out from between her legs to prepare his razor, Fiona knew that the entire town was being treated to a view of her cunt, but she felt only the smallest twinge of horror at the prospect. She had other things to worry about. She peered beyond the four heads that still loomed over her and tried to focus on the patches of blue sky between them. It'll be fine, she told herself. The barber is a professional. He won't cut me. I just have to be good, and not move...

Somewhere down below her, Fiona could hear the barber stropping his razor. She had seen the razor hundreds of times -- a terrifyingly long, straight blade with a mother of pearl handle. Now she could hear him mixing up the lather, swishing the mixture of soap and oil with his shaving brush until it foamed. Now he was coming towards her... 

The barber gazed down at Fiona's cunt. Another time, the sight of a pretty, buxom young woman lying naked and spreadeagled beneath him might have aroused him, and indeed, he did spend a moment savoring the image so that he could recall it later at his leisure. Now, though, he had a professional task to do, and he set himself to it.

The geography of Fiona's nether regions posed an undeniable challenge, even to the skilled barber, but -- he had to remind himself -- the curves of the thighs were no more complex than those surrounding the nose and cheekbones, and her soft labial lips were no more sensitive (well, not much more sensitive) than the lips of the face. He just had to keep his wits about him, and god willing, the girl would stay still. Had he chosen the correct position? Hmmmm -- not quite. "Bring her leg down a little bit, Lucas," he requested. "And pull her knee open wider. There. Much better."

He would begin with the smattering of hair on the inner thigh, where the skin was smooth and the girl was less likely to try to jump about. Fiona's eyes were shut, and her breathing was rapid, like a frightened rabbit's. 

"I'm going to start now," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "It should just feel a bit cold." 

The barber twirled the round shaving brush in its little pot until its bristles were covered in lather. Then he painted Fiona's inner thigh -- which was still crisscrossed with light pink stripes from her beating -- with the foam.

Fiona could feel the soft tickle of the brush as it coated her thigh with the shaving foam, and then came the cold press of the razor as it scraped along her flesh. Don't think about how sharp it is, she thought, and trembled.

The barber shaved Fiona's left thigh and down along the curve of her buttock, leaving her white skin shining and silky smooth. The ease of the task gave him confidence and he decided next to attack the triangle of curly red hair at the top of her crotch. Although the hair was thicker there, the skin itself wasn't quite as sensitive as it would be on the folds of the cunt itself. 

The barber whipped up another batch of heavy lather and spread it through Fiona's pubic hair until the tight red curls were almost invisible beneath the peaks of white foam. Pressing his thumb to her lower belly to stretch the skin tight, the barber drew his razor down against the grain of her hair. This did not go quite as smoothly. The hair here was much rougher and did not slough away as easily as the hair on her thighs. He had to make several passes with the razor, and the men had to hold Fiona down with their hands to keep her from jumping about. After that, he had the men reverse the angle of her legs, and he shaved her other thigh.

When he was done, there was only a small patch of hair remaining right at the top of her cunt, as well as a light covering of down on her nether lips. The barber took a deep breath. He was beginning to rise -- both literally and figuratively -- to the challenge. Not only did he feel pride in a job well done, he was also beginning to enjoy the sight of all this shining, hairless flesh. Somewhat unprofessionally, he slid his hand down Fiona's belly and up her thigh, savoring the way the silky skin slipped through his fingers, then stroked her plump round buttock. Was it just his imagination, or was the girl's cunt beginning to redden and swell just a little bit? She was nervous, to be sure, but then, the whore had enjoyed being spanked -- who was to say she couldn't enjoy being shaved as well? 

The barber gave his razor a few extra strops to ensure the blade was at its sharpest. "All right. Here we go. Fiona, I want you to remain absolutely still. We're almost done."

With that, the barber ran his soft shaving brush up and down the length of Fiona's cunt, slathering it with foam. The round, fuzzy brush was stroking Fiona more gently, more intimately, than she'd ever been touched before. The waves of tingly excitement had begun when he'd started shaving her thighs, but now that he'd moved to her cunt, the delicate bristles felt like hundreds of fingers caressing her on her most intimate parts. And yet the lightness of the tickling touch was both pleasurable and infuriating. Fiona shivered, and felt her nipples pucker and tighten. If only he would press that brush a little more tightly against her, it might scratch the odd itch that seemed to be forming inside her...

"Well, I'll be damned," George blurted out. The big-titted whore must truly have been possessed by some kind of devil. Just a few minutes earlier, she'd been shrieking and whimpering in fear, begging them not to shave her. But now, her eyes were shut, her lips were slightly parted, and despite the fact that her legs were being held apart by two burly men, she'd begun rolling her hips up to meet the barber's brush in an unmistakably lascivious fashion. The barber, who was rapidly losing his professionalism, kept on lathering Fiona with the brush long after her cunt was covered in foam, and all of the men seemed hypnotized by her inadvertent dance.

George's words startled her from her reverie. Her eyes flew open, and she blushed. Lucas shot George a dirty look, and the barber cleared his throat and reached for the razor. His concentration had been interrupted for a moment, but he meant to do a good job.

The barber reached down and pinched one of Fiona's cunt lips between his thumb and forefinger. It wasn't easy to get a good grip: the outside of the lip was slathered with foam, and the inside was undeniably slick. The barber thought how easy it would be to slide his forefinger deep into Fiona's vagina. Once he'd penetrated her, her green eyes would fly open and her mouth would make a little round "o." She wouldn't be able to move because all the men were holding her down, so he could languorously fingerfuck her until she stopped struggling and started thrusting her hips against him, pleading with him for more. Maybe before he brought her to climax, he'd shove his finger in her mouth and make her suck her own juices off of him, telling her to lick him clean...

The barber squished Fiona's labia tightly between his fingers, almost angry with her for the lust she had provoked, and stretched the skin out as far as it would go. Fiona raised her neck, straining to see what was happening between her legs, and crinkled her eyebrows with pain and worry.

The barber opened his razor. Fiona's eyes were like two huge green plates of glass. In a smooth, confident gesture, the barber ran the blade of the razor from the innermost part of Fiona's thigh up her tautly stretched cunt lip, leaving behind a streak of smooth, shiny skin. Ffffftht. Ffffftht. Fffffftht. Six neat strokes, and Fiona's fat labia were left glistening and bare. The barber put his thumb on the top edge of Fiona's cunt and drew the crinkled skin back, exposing a little pink nubbin the size of an eraser head. Ever so carefully, he let his razor float along the edge of Fiona's cunt, trimming away any remaining hairs.




The Devil's Teats Ch. 02



"Hand me a cup of water," the barber demanded. Lucas complied. The barber poured the water over Fiona's cunt, rinsing away the last traces of lather.

All the men bent down to examine the barber's artistry. Fiona's plump labia and pink inner lips shone in the early evening light. Nothing was hidden. Every inch of skin was hairless and smooth, and looked exquisitely sensitive, begging to be touched. 

"That slut's cunt looks like a squashed rose," George said poetically. "I ain't never seen anything like it."

"I'm not quite done," the barber said. The plan had been forming in his mind ever since he'd realized that Fiona was kindling a desire in him that he wasn't going to be able to satisfy. Nothing too terrible, especially compared to what she'd already endured that day. Just a little bit of revenge, to make his night time fantasies a little sweeter.

"Lucas. George." he instructed. "Lift her legs up, both of you. Feet in the air, that's it. Back, back, back..."

"What?! What are you doooing?" Fiona begged, kicking her legs frantically. As Lucas and George brought her feet up over her head, the maidservant was bent almost in half. She had to rock backwards slightly to accommodate the awkward position, and as she did, her ass lifted up beautifully. 

"Perfect. Keep her there. "Better relax, Fiona," the barber said. He gestured to Jake and Sylvester, the men who had been holding Fiona's shoulders down, and instructed them to come to him, warning Fiona that it was her responsibility not to move. Then he had Jake grab one of her ass cheeks, and Sylvester grab the other. The men took hold of the trembling globes of her ass and spread her painfully wide. 

Fiona's butt waved in the air as she tried to struggle out of the humiliating position, but she froze when she felt the first cold stroke of lather smeared across her asshole. This was utterly unnecessary -- there were only a handful of hairs clinging to Fiona's crack -- but the barber was feeling both thorough and cruel. He grinned tightly to himself as he watched Fiona's tight star-shaped anus contract, making the thin layer of foam that covered it tremble and twitch. 

The barber played around a bit, covering her stretched crack with foam and diddling her a little with the brush, savoring the desperation with which she tried not to squirm. When he'd finally had enough, he whipped out the razor one final time.

Fffffth. He stroked Fiona's asshole and crack leisurely with the blade, scraping off any last traces of foam.

When he was done, he closed the razor, and as if by consensus, all the men let her drop. She thudded to the ground and rolled over onto her stomach, rubbing her thighs together as though she was confused by the slippery new sensation between them, and hid her face in her hands.

(To be continued...)



The Devil's Teats Ch. 03



"Time to go, Fiona," Lucas said gruffly, grabbing her braid and yanking her to her feet. The barber was packing up his things, as though he were indifferent to the results of his hard day's work, and the rest of the men had dispersed along with the crowd. Fiona stood, swaying. Lucas tugged on her braid like a leash, and the naked girl obediently followed him. 

Fiona felt strange. The way her slick, hairless pussy lips slid back and forth as she walked was unsettling, but when she tried to keep it from happening, all she could manage was a ridiculous waddle. She had been shaved! Sadly, Fiona wrapped her arms around herself, only to have Jane, who was walking beside her, slap them away. Of course. She wasn't allowed to cover her breasts. That's how all of this had begun. It was all her breasts' fault, but it was her ass and cunt that had been spanked and shaved...and it was her cunt that felt so disturbingly slippery right now. 

She'd gotten wet before, during the spanking, and when she'd touched herself that night thinking of Lucas. Maybe she'd even gotten a little bit aroused when she'd let George finger her, although mostly she'd just felt uncomfortable and embarrassed. But during all of those times, she had barely been aware of what her body was doing -- indeed, it was other people who kept point it out to her, rubbing her face in her body's shameful reactions. Now, though, her cunt felt like a piece of wet silk between her legs, and she couldn't help but notice every time a quiver of arousal went through her. She'd felt one dart like a bolt between her legs when Lucas had tugged on her braid, and she was feeling a light bubbling of desire even now as she padded barefoot toward home. Why? Why should it turn her on to have Lucas lead her down the road like a dog on a leash? Was Jane right? Was she so depraved that she enjoyed being punished? But this wasn't enjoyment, exactly. It was -- it was -- something else.

Even though Fiona was desperately frustrated, she couldn't quite say what she was looking for. All she knew was that she was terribly uncomfortable, and she wanted someone to make it better. Would she feel relief if Lucas crawled on top of her and did to her what he did every night to Jane? Fiona knew about fucking, but no one had ever said that getting spanked or shaved or publicly humiliated should make you want to fuck. Fiona had fantasized about Lucas spanking her and then touching her between her legs, and now that her body was in a turmoil, she wanted that even more...but if Lucas did do that, wouldn't it just make this desperate feeling worse instead of better? George had made her grip his cock in her fist and shake it up and down until white stuff came out of it. He called that coming, and after it was done he had shoved her away and didn't want to play with her cunt anymore. If Jane had kept spanking her long enough, would she have come? That thought scared Fiona, because she hated getting spanked...at least, most of her did. It was only this small bit of flesh between her legs that seemed to have mixed feelings...

The maidservant sighed. She felt all muddled, and she hoped Lucas and Fiona would just let her do her chores quickly. Maybe she could sneak away somewhere and put her hand into her newly smooth cunt, and see what happened. But no, now she remembered. Reverend Godwin had said she was never allowed to be alone. She had to be watched, to make sure she didn't traffic with the devil. She was never going to be able to end this frustration! 

Jane and Lucas, who were walking alongside Fiona, exchanged nervous glances. They had both noticed the way Fiona alternated between waddling like a duck and rubbing her thighs together slightly more often than was necessary. Jane had seen how flushed Fiona's cheeks were, and how she kept sucking on her lower lip in frustration, while Lucas, focused on a different part of Fiona's anatomy, had observed that the girl kept stroking and fiddling with her own nipples every time she thought her master and mistress weren't looking. Once she had even slid her and between her legs before shamefacedly yanking it out when Lucas turned towards her. 

Both Lucas and Jane recognized the signs -- Fiona was horny. She was craving a good fuck, and yet she was so naïve that she probably didn't even know exactly what it was that she wanted. Lucas remembered how ineptly -- if desperately -- the girl had prodded at herself the other night. My God, Lucas thought: his busty, not-too-bright redheaded servant girl had been stripped, whipped, shaved and teased until her cunt was dripping...and now he was taking her home. How could be possibly be expected not to take advantage?

Jane, meanwhile, was thinking hard. She had come to terms with her husband's desire for Fiona even before she'd watched him masturbate himself with the girl's naked body. To Jane, Fiona was hardly more than an object, a mindless object. If Lucas had been aroused during the spanking, it was because Jane had forced Fiona to strip, had made her straddle first the stump and then Lucas's lap; it was Jane who had used Fiona to put on a show that she knew her husband would enjoy. But now they were going home. If Jane and Lucas had Fiona alone in a room, with the door locked... the girl had been taught some obedience over the course of this long afternoon, and now her body was obviously inflamed with lust. Surely there was some way to combine a gift for Lucas with another well-deserved punishment for Fiona...but how to ensure that Lucas remembered that Fiona was only a receptacle, a toy that Jane gave or took away at her whim?

When the trio arrived home, the entire extended family was outside, goggle-eyed and ready to greet them. Fiona, knowing that everyone was staring at the pink stripes that crisscrossed her bottom, her naked shaved pussy and her freakishly stretched nipples, hung her head in shame. Just this morning, she'd been a despised, subservient member of the household, but a member just the same. Now she was a joke. Even if someday the Reverend decided she had been punished enough and she was no longer in danger of trafficking with Satan, how could she ever act normally around people who had seen her in the depths of her humiliation?

"Come inside, Fiona," Jane said. "The Reverend said you could complete your household chores before you were sent to him for the night." 

Fiona followed, dragging her feet. Was she supposed to sweep the kitchen and chop vegetables naked? Was she supposed to go to the well for water with her bare tits swinging in the wind? 

Fiona stood in the front room, glancing over to the bathroom where the tub still stood, filled with the dirty water from her interrupted bath. Jane followed her gaze and said, "Yes, Fiona, why don't you begin by cleaning up after yourself. Leave the door open so that we can keep an eye on you, and we'll come fetch you in a moment." 

Fiona nodded and entered the bathroom. When she was gone, Lucas and Jane locked eyes, then flew into each others' arms. Ignoring Reverend Godwin's prohibition on not leaving Fiona alone, they kissed deeply, and Jane was gratified to feel the hard press of Lucas's erection against her dress. Lucas ran his hands through his wife's hair and began to push her back toward the bedroom. The pair collapsed on the bed, still kissing passionately, and Lucas stroked his wife's slim, muscular leg all the way up to the thigh.

"God, you were so beautiful out there," Lucas whispered to his wife. "I've never seen you like that. So strong, so fierce. I love you. You know I do. The girl's a fool, a whorish slut. She's nothing compared to you."

Jane's cool blue eyes stared deep into her husband's. "I know, Lucas," she said. "I forgive you, I do. But..." she whispered as she placed a long strand of kisses down Lucas's neck - "I just need to know one thing."

"Anything," Lucas muttered. "Anything."

"I want you to tell me the truth about the night you first saw Fiona naked."

"I told you the truth. She came up to me by the well and shook her tits in my face." The expression of amused skepticism on Jane's face stopped Lucas cold. "You don't believe me?"

"I'd have to be a fool to believe that tale, Lucas. And as you just pointed out, Fiona's the fool. Not me."

"But -- but -" Lucas spluttered. "That's why you spanked her! For trying to seduce me!"

"Not quite," Jane said. "I spanked her because I knew you were lusting after her, and I wanted to punish her for that. But that doesn't mean I believed in your idiotic story for a moment."

Lucas grinned ruefully. "Well, you showed us both, I guess. But I can't say poor Fiona deserved what she got."

"What happened?"

Lucas explained how he had caught Fiona touching herself when he'd stormed into her room at night, and after a bit of hesitation, he also confessed to his wife how he had punished Fiona by forcing her to continue abusing herself as she lay naked on the floor beneath him. 

When he had finished his story, Jane propped herself up on her elbows and kissed the top of her husband's head. Lucas, who couldn't quite believe that his wife wasn't angry at him, tried to gather her into his arms, but she pulled away.

"Lucas," she said. "I think we should call Fiona in here."

As the two looked at each other, their lustful, anticipatory gazes revealed everything the other one needed to know. Nonetheless, they kept up a facade; partly to maintain a thin veil of propriety, and partially because it added even more of a thrill to the game. 

"If you insist, dear," Lucas said. "And again, I apologize for misleading you. The girl seems to have bewildered my mind."

Jane stood up, straightened her skirts, and walked to the door of the bedroom.

"Fiona!" she called. "Fiona! Leave your work and come here, please."

"Coming, Mistress! Just a moment!" Fiona called breathlessly. Hearing something in the girl's tone, Jane raised her eyebrows at Lucas suggestively. What had she been doing out there?

The naked girl hurried into the room, her cheeks flushed. 

Jane returned to the bed and sat down next to her husband.

"Fiona," Jane said. "I have something to ask you."

"Yes, Mistress?" the girl asked demurely, her eyes lowered. 

"Earlier today, my husband told a story about how you tried to seduce him at the well. It was because of this story that you received a spanking."

"Yes, Mistress. I remember. I'm very sorry, Mistress."

"An extraordinary thing has happened, Fiona. You will hardly believe it. Lucas has now confessed to me that this story was not true."

Fiona looked rapidly from Lucas to Jane and back again. "Truly?" she asked.

"Truly."

Fiona flushed with happiness. "Oh, thank you, Master! Thank you! I don't even blame you for lying, sir, honest I don't! I'm just glad that you know the truth, Mistress Jane. I'm a good girl! I never would have behaved like that!"

"Indeed," Jane said. "Well, as far as we know, you may still be guilty of trafficking with the devil, but I will give credit where credit is due. You did not expose your breasts to my husband at the well. It seems we owe you an apology."

"Thank you, Mistress!" Fiona said, bobbing her head up and down. "And maybe you could put in a good word for me with the Reverend? Because I've never had any traffic with devils, either. I've had these tits since I was sixteen. They popped up practically overnight. I know they're shameful, but I can't help them, truly I can't."

"I don't know anything about that," Jane said coolly, "And of course, there is still the odd fact that you appeared to take pleasure in your spanking, as ill-deserved as it may have been. But I will convey what you've said to the Reverend."

"Thank you, Mistress," Fiona said, slightly abashed. "May I go now and finish my work?"

"Certainly," Jane said. As the girl turned to go, she called out -- "Oh, Fiona...Just one more question."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"If you didn't try to seduce my husband at the well, how exactly did Lucas first catch sight of your breasts?"

The effect of the question was extraordinary. Fiona colored from top to toe, the blush spreading from the tips of her tits across her stomach and down her thighs. 

"Mistress?" she squeaked.

"I believe you understood the question."

"Oh, Mistress," Fiona said, sinking to her knees and clasping her hands in front of her. "It was nothing, I swear."

"I don't understand why you're making such a fuss," Jane said blandly. "What was it? What happened?"

"Did you tell her?" Fiona implored Lucas. "Please say you didn't tell her!"

 "Tell me what?" Jane snapped. She stood up sharply, looming over the naked, kneeling girl. She took Fiona's chin in her hands and raised the girl's face toward her. "I'm not asking Lucas, Fiona. I'm asking you. Confess your sins and I may go easier on you."

Weeping, Fiona begged, "Please don't make me say!"

Jane slapped Fiona lightly across first one cheek, and then the other. "Confess!"

Fiona sniffled, "I know he's told you, or you wouldn't be so angry."

Jane slapped Fiona again, harder this time. "Speak your sins, slut, and stop dissembling!"

Rubbing her reddened eyes, Fiona whispered, "He caught me...he caught me touching myself. It was an accident, Mistress. I didn't mean it! But then he made me keep going. He's the one who stripped me! I begged with him to let me stop, but he wouldn't! It's his fault, not mine!" she cried wretchedly. 

Jane snorted. "It was an accident? Did you trip on your tits and land with your fingers buried in your cunt? You're as stupid as you are perverse. Self abuse is almost as bad a sin as adultery."

"Please don't punish me, Mistress. I'm sorry," Fiona whimpered pathetically.

"Before your spanking, I told you that any sins you committed in my household will not go unpunished. I may have accidentally whipped you for the wrong crime this afternoon, but that does not expiate the sin you actually are guilty of. Self-abuse is both dangerous and habit-forming. If you do it once, you become like an animal, desperate to do it over and over again."

"No, no, no, Mistress!" Fiona pleaded. "I hated it! I was so ashamed when Master Lucas discovered me! I'll never do it again, I promise!" 

Jane sneered, "You hated it. Just like you claimed you hated being spanked, until we spread your legs and discovered you were dripping with lust. The problem with you, Fiona, is that you get pleasure from things that normal, healthy people find disgusting and shameful. You must be cured of this perversity, or I have no doubt you will spend all of eternity in hell."

"Nonononono," Fiona burbled. "I'm a good girl. I just want to be good!"

"If you want to be good, you will accept your punishment. Indeed, you will not only accept your punishment, you will be grateful for it, because it will train you to be less sluttish than you are."

Fiona let out a ragged sob. She'd endured so much punishment today, it was hard to even pretend to be grateful. She knew that whatever plan Jane concocted, it would be not only painful, but confusing and humiliating too. And yet she did want to be good! She didn't want her body to betray her anymore! 

"I'll do anything you say, Mistress," she whispered.

"Good," Jane barked. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Fiona remained on her knees, looking pathetically up at Lucas, who avoided her eyes. He was eager to see what Jane had in store for Fiona, but truth be told, he was so horny that he might have almost preferred just to send the girl away while he fucked his wife. He wondered, idly, if there was any chance that Jane might let him fuck Fiona. No, of course not. She probably just had another spanking coming -- and anyway, it wasn't as though he wanted to father a child by the dizzy wench.

Jane returned to the room holding a bundle of objects wrapped in a blanket. Fiona strained to see what they were, hoping for some clue to her fate, but Jane placed them on the far side of the bed, out of sight. Then she turned to the open doorway and, to Fiona's horror, summoned in several members of the household: Mary, their elderly cook; Barnabas, a youth who helped Lucas with the farm work, and Lucas and Jane's two oldest children, Ronald and Ruth, who were twins, about Fiona's age. They took after Jane: proud, blond and forbiddingly cold, they had never condescended to speak more than a handful of words to their buxom Irish servant. Now, they looked down upon the naked Fiona with absolute disgust.

"Mother, why on earth are we here?" Ruth asked. "What could you possibly want from us?"

"You are here to be taught a lesson," Jane said, "About the evils of a certain kind of self-indulgence. I know it is distasteful, but we can all learn from Fiona's example."

Fiona closed her eyes and tried to fold her arms across her breasts before remembering that she wasn't allowed to cover herself and lowering her arms to her sides. Why did Jane have to be so cruel? What good did it do to bring all of these people in here to watch her be humiliated?

"Stand up," Jane said harshly. 

Fiona complied, her slim legs swaying. 

"Lucas, come stand here by me," Jane commanded. "Fiona, get onto the bed."

"B-b-b-but why?" Fiona stuttered. Somehow she knew that anything that happened to her on her mistress's bed wasn't going to be something she would enjoy. And yet how many times had she daydreamed about Lucas inviting her into this room, kissing her gently...

"Don't question me, fool. Up!"

Fiona clambered onto the bed and settled herself on the patterned bedspread. Jane paced back and forth, eying her naked prey. 

"If I'm going to help you, I am going to need complete honesty. Remember, Lucas observed you in the act, so we'll know if you tell any lies."

"Yes, Mistress. I'll tell the truth. I promise." 

"Tell everyone why you're being punished."

Fiona swallowed hard. "I -- I...I was touching myself," she whispered. 

"Speak up! They can hardly hear you."

"I was touchiiing myself?" Fiona tried to talk loudly, but her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. 

"Touching yourself where?"

Saying the words out loud was almost physically painful. "Between my legs. On my -- my cunt."

"Why were you doing that?"

Fiona hesitated. "I -- I don't know," she mumbled.

"Fiona..." Jane warned.

Fiona was at a loss. "Because it felt good?" she ventured. 

"Because it felt good?" Jane mimicked cruelly. "Well tell us, Fiona. How did it feel?"

"I don't know." Her face burned, but watching the frightening expression on Jane's face, she continued. "Tingly, I guess, and then kind of...wet...like I was melting. But then it got different... itchy almost? I wanted to -- do something different. But I didn't know what." She glanced around the room. The two servants had their lips pursed, as if to broadcast their disapproval. The twins, meanwhile, had identical expressions on their faces -- as though they'd just smelled something so horrible that they were trying not to vomit. Lucas's face was unreadable. 

"Interesting. Tell us, Fiona, when you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about?"

Oh no! Fiona's heart sunk. Her freckled face was utterly transparent, twitching furiously as she tried to think up a lie. Jane reached over and gave the girl's pink nipple an angry tweak. 

"No lying, Fiona! Remember, this is for your benefit, not mine." 

Fiona feared that if she told the truth, she would anger Jane even more, but she had no choice. Averting her eyes, she whispered, "I was thinking about Lucas."

"Lucas!" The shock in Jane's voice was real. She'd been sure the girl was going to confess to fantasizing about her spanking sessions with her schoolteacher back in Ireland. 

"I"m sorry! I'm sorry!" Fiona whimpered, horrified at the thought of Lucas knowing what she'd been imagining when he walked in on her. And yet, was there a secret, evil part of her that was glad he knew? And that hoped that maybe, maybe, he'd done the same?




The Devil's Teats Ch. 03



"That's enough sharing for now," Jane said sharply. She was unsettled, and felt the need to regain control of the conversation before they returned to this topic. "You've told us about your sins, but now I want you to show us. You're lying on the bed, just like you were that night. Put on a demonstration for us. Let us see what you did, you shameful girl."

"Please don't make me do that!" Fiona squealed. "It's a sin! I don't want to sin anymore!"

"You say don't want to sin," Jane said implacably, "And yet you keep doing these disgusting things, over and over again. You are a weak-willed harlot, and unless you are taught otherwise, you will always be a slave to your body and its desires. What we must do is to make these sins truly revolting to you. We will force you to behave wantonly, but we will make the experience so unpleasant that once we are finished, you will truly be horrified by the thought of ever touching yourself again."

Tears poured down Fiona's cheeks. "But I don't want to be a harlot, Mistress, I don't! And I don't want to touch myself. This is already unpleasant enough, I promise!" 

"Well, then," Jane said, smiling grimly. "If it is, then we've made a good beginning, but we're not done yet. Now put your hands between your legs, please." 

Sobbing, the humiliated girl reached down between her legs and began awkwardly fingering herself. It felt so strange with no hair down there! So slippery and naked... She rubbed the spot between the lips of her vulva that sometimes felt so good when she touched it, but she was so unhappy and ashamed that nothing happened. Then she tried to probe her slit with her index finger, but she was anxious and tight and couldn't get her finger in past the knuckle. Everyone was staring at her...oh, this was so awful!

"Can I stop now?" she implored Jane.

"You're not enjoying yourself?"

"No! I hate it!"

"Your breasts seem to be very sensitive. Perhaps you should try touching them."

Fiona was doubtful, but she obediently lifted her hands and began caressing her own breasts. The mountainous globes overflowed her small hands, but she squeezed them the way she'd imagined Lucas doing, and even hesitantly pinched her own nipples. Nothing felt good. All she could think about was the way that everyone was staring at her, and what she must look like to them. She sighed, and let her breasts drop.

"What do you think is the problem?" Jane asked. 

"I don't know," Fiona sniffled. "I'm embarrassed, I guess."

"I see. You may think that by not enjoying yourself, you're behaving well. But actually, until you begin to enjoy yourself, there's no point in starting the punishment. After all, if we're trying to make your vile habit revolting to you by tormenting you while you masturbate, before we start to abuse you, you have to abuse yourself. Do you understand?"

"N-no, I don't understand at all," Fiona said truthfully.

"Perhaps you need some assistance," Jane said. "You love thinking about Lucas while you're touching yourself, so maybe he can help. Lucas, come sit by the bed."

Both Fiona and Lucas froze. Was this a trap? If it was, Lucas thought, it was one baited with honey. Fiona had never looked so delectable as she had at that moment: squeaky clean, her red hair still neatly braided, light marks from her whipping showing along the edges of her ass and thighs, and now shamefacedly groping herself. Lucas settled himself next to Fiona, careful not to touch her until Jane gave her permission.

"Lucas, Fiona needs help getting aroused. Play with her breasts."

Lucas's eyes opened wide. "Are you sure, Jane?"

"Yes. It's nothing improper. You're just helping her get the punishment she deserves. Squeeze her tits, diddle her nipples a bit. You have my permission. It's for her own good."

Fiona averted her eyes from the gaping onlookers as Lucas's huge, rough hands snaked around her body and took hold of her breasts. At first he just plumped them lightly, giving them a quick tentative squeeze. Then he ran his fingers over her nipples, softly stroking and tugging them. After a few moments of Lucas's careful attentions, to her shock, Fiona felt a low groan escape her lips.

"Ohhhhnnnnnnnnng..." 

"Is it working, Fiona?" Jane asked.

Fiona's eyelids felt heavy. She couldn't believe that she had just made such a lascivious noise in front of so many people, and yet she couldn't deny what was happening to her body. Lucas was rolling her long, distended nipples between his fingers, and flicking at them gently with his thumb and forefinger. The feelings coursing through her tits were like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Blushing even as she did so, she pressed her back against the bed and thrust her breasts up at Lucas, silently begging for more. 

"What, Fiona? I can't hear you."

"Yesssssssssssss...it's working..." Fiona mumbled. 

"Then you know what to do."

The order brought Fiona back to her senses. She knew she was being humiliated, that she'd been tricked into acting like a whore. And yet Jane was right -- now that Lucas was playing with her, jiggling her tits back and forth, she did want to touch herself, just a little. With just a quick glance up at the servants and the twins, whose mouths were hanging open as they watched the spectacle, Fiona put her hands back between her legs as she'd been instructed. There was an embarrassing wetness there. She hesitated, but Lucas was relentless. He pressed her enormous tits together and rolled them against each other, then took hold of each of her nipples and lightly pinched them from base to tip. "Uhhhhhnnnnnn..." Fiona gasped. Her hands slid into the slick flesh of her cunt, and she began rubbing herself. 

Jane let the show go on for a moment, and then she bent down and whispered in Lucas's ear. Following her instructions, Lucas slid all the way onto the bed. Sitting up, he dragged Fiona onto him so that she was lying between his legs, the back of her head resting on his lap. 

Fiona had kept touching herself throughout this entire maneuver. Once he had settled her onto his lap, Lucas went back to mauling her tits, more roughly now than before. He shook the fat globes and pinched them cruelly, now perhaps more interested in entertaining Jane than in pleasuring the girl, but Fiona responded to the harsh treatment by rubbing herself even more frantically. Now completely oblivious of the horrified bystanders who surrounded her, she pumped her hips, thrusting them against the air. "Ooooooh," she moaned. "Mmmmph, yes, oh yes please."

"Fiona," Jane said. Fiona continued to writhe and moan. "Fiona!" Jane shouted, snapping her fingers in front of the girl's face. The girl froze with her hands still lodged between her legs. 

"Give me your hands," Jane demanded. Fiona complied, but not before giving herself one last long stroke. She was panting and blurry-eyed with lust, and seemed barely to notice that Jane was squeezing something onto her palms and rubbing the mysterious substance onto fingers. Her hips were still twitching and she kept pushing her tits out at Lucas, who had paused to watch his wife's ministrations. 

Keeping Fiona's hands clasped in her own, Jane said, "Continue playing with her, Lucas." Once Lucas's hands began moving over her breasts again, Fiona let out a long, anguished "Unnnnnnnngh and arched her back, trying to pull her hands free from Jane. Jane held on for a moment, then let go. Fiona's hands flew between her legs, panting with anticipation. For a second, her eyes rolled with pleasure, and then she froze, her pouty lips gaped open, and her green eyes bugged out of her head.

"Oweeeeeeeeee!" she cried. "Owowowow!" 

Fiona's body spasmed and she jerked forward so hard that Lucas had to yank on her nipples to keep her from toppling off of the bed.

"What the devil?" Lucas asked, struggling to keep hold of Fiona as the naked girl bucked and kicked in mindless hysterics. 

He looked over to see Jane smile smugly as she gently laid on the table the object that she had smeared onto Fiona's hands: a hot jalapeno pepper.

"It taught my children to stop sucking their thumbs," Jane said. "I thought it might help Fiona to improve her behavior. Fiona, the burning you feel now is nothing compared to what you will feel while you are roasting in the fires of hell!"

The two servants in the room snickered, while the twins continued to look horrified.

As the burning in her cunt subsided, Fiona collapsed weakly against Lucas. She was covered in a light sweat, and breathing hard. Thinking that she had probably been punished enough, Lucas released her from his grasp.

"Lucas, this isn't finished," Jane said. "Please continue to play with Fiona. I don't think she's anywhere close to learning her lesson."

It was only then that Lucas discovered how truly demonic his wife's plan was, as Fiona was drawn into an endlessly tortuous dance. At first, exhausted and sore, Fiona lay limply beneath him, seeming not to notice as he tickled and twiddled her nipples. But after a while, a twitch of the hip here and a lick of the lip there would hint that her body was starting to respond to his touch. Eventually, her hands would crawl back between her legs, and she would spasm and shriek once again.

Jane dragged out Fiona's agony for nearly an hour, but finally she could no longer ignore her own body's lusts. She wanted Lucas as badly has she'd ever had in her life, and despite Fiona's significant contribution to the fire that burned between her legs, Jane decided suddenly that she wanted her husband all to herself.

"That's enough," Jane said, finally. "Fiona, I believe you've had enough for this afternoon. No doubt we will have an opportunity to finish your re-education later. Now get up off the bed and continue your chores. You are due at the Reverend's in less than an hour."

By that point in her ordeal, the half-conscious servant girl was unable to respond to even the most basic of commands. Her eyes were glassy and twitching, and a thin line of drool dripped from the edge of her lust-swollen lips. Impatient, Jane grabbed her legs, swung them to the ground, and then hoisted her to her feet. Fiona swayed and almost toppled, but Jane's firm grip on her shoulders kept her upright.

Jane addressed the twins, who had been standing in the corner throughout Fiona's punishment. "Ronald. Ruth. Your father and I have some important matters to discuss. Take charge of Fiona and ensure that she completes as many of her chores as possible before you take her to the Reverend's. Remember, she is not to be allowed to cover herself, no matter how much she begs. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," the twins answered in unison. The expressions on their faces suggested that they had been given a particularly loathsome task, even worse than mucking out the stables, perhaps. Still, they did not protest. Jane let go of Fiona's shoulders, and Ruth gave the naked servant girl a rough push forward.

"Go along, Fiona," she said. "You heard Mother. You have work to do. Go."

"Yes, Fiona," echoed Ronald, placing his palm on Fiona's bare back and giving her another shove. "Move, you lazy girl."

Still dazed, Fiona took a few tottering steps toward the door. The twins followed her, pushing her along, until Lucas and Jane were left alone in the room.

"At last," Lucas said, looking at his wife with an intensity that set her soul alight.

"At last," she said, and kissed him.

(to be continued...)



The Devil's Teats



Fiona whimpered again. Her whole body was on fire with shame, and yet the men's attention to her breasts had fired up a different, more disturbing heat that had begun its slow boil between her legs. Reverend Doyle was horrible, of course, but the intensity with which Reverend Godwin trained his piercing blue eyes on her naked flesh... the rough certainty of his fingers... the tender coolness with which he prodded her, as though she were little more than a favored animal...Fiona squeezed her thighs together and tried to banish the humiliating arousal from her mind.

"Enough, you clumsy oaf!" Reverend Godwin shouted. Fiona jumped in surprise.

Godwin elbowed Reverend Doyle to the side, covered his hands in grease from the tub, and then pinched both of Fiona's nipples in a viselike grip. With a look of fierce concentration on his face, he pulled her nipples straight outwards, stretching them out farther and farther until Fiona's breasts no longer looked like full, bulbous globes but instead like bizarrely elongated cones. Further and further he pulled them, until her nipples seemed to stretch out like strings of pink taffy....

Fiona's green eyes widened until you could see the whites all around them. Her freckled cheeks flushed and and her mouth puckered into a bright red "O". 

"Aaaaaaaaaaack!" she shrieked.

Reverend Godwin released Fiona's nipples and her breasts snapped back against her chest. The shaking mounds regained their shape, the tender white flesh now streaked with pink and glistening with the heavy sheen of sweat and grease. The poor tortured nipples, flushed red with abuse and stretched to the length of a grown man's pinky finger, twitched and quivered with a life of their own, as though they were indeed being assaulted by a horde of devils. 

Fiona collapsed, weeping and rubbing her breasts. 

Everyone in the room stared at her. Reverend Doyle cautiously readjusted a small bulge in his trousers. 

"Stand up, harlot" Reverend Godwin demanded.

Unable to believe what had just happened to her, Fiona struggled to her feet. Reverend Godwin looked scornfully at the torn shift and half-wrapped blanket that now dangled from her hips, exposing a bright-red tuft of pubic hair. As though the task were distasteful to him, Godwin adjusted and retied the bundled so that it once again comprised a makeshift skirt that left her "decent," starting just below the belly button. 

"Compose yourself, slut," he said. "It's time for you to head into town."

"The devil's teats must always be exposed to view," Reverend Godwin had insisted. "The moment she has a chance to hide them, the demons will swarm to their milk. You must be vigilant and harsh with her. Remember, her eternal soul is at risk." 

When they'd heard this advice, Goodman Lucas and Goodwife Jane had nodded solemnly. The Reverend had a charisma and a certainty about him that made him hard to doubt. Hard to doubt, that is, when he was standing before you, drilling into you with his piercing blue eyes But when he remained indoors, and you had to step outside, in broad daylight, arm in arm with a half-naked girl whose breasts had been inflated like balloons by the devil...

Well, then the doubts came flooding in. 

Jane could see that the uncertainty she felt in her heart was mirrored in her husband's eyes. Right now, just the fact of the sunlight and the light breeze wafting over Fiona's heaving bosom seemed obscene, as did the fly that buzzed near them, drawn by the sweet stink of the grease the men had smeared on Fiona's breasts. Jane swatted excitably at the fly, suddenly filled with horror at the idea of it perching itself on one of Fiona's long red nipples.

Jane herself had never been unclothed anywhere but in a dark room with the windows covered, yet here she was, walking down a lane she'd traversed hundreds, thousands of times, frog-marching her half-naked maidservant in front of her, the girl's exposed breasts swinging in time to the rapid pace of their march.

Fiona herself seemed to be in a daze, still recovering from the brutal greasing the two Reverends had given her. She stumbled barefoot along the dirt path, and Goodman Lucas and Goodman Jane, who each held one of her arms in theirs, were often required to lift and carry her along. Every few minutes her legs went weak, and then they resorted to dragging her, her pale feet bumping along the ridges left by horse-drawn carts.

The sight of the cart-tracks was a disturbing reminder to Goodwife Jane that at any moment some of the townsfolk might come around the bend. Everyone in the village was used to Reverend Donovan's harsh punishments. Hardly a day went by when some fool wasn't locked in the stocks, and they'd had a rash of witch trials the summer before, but no one in the town, she was sure, had ever come across a sight like this. 

Not only were Fiona's enormous, inflated tits instantly recognizable as the work of the devil, but the combination of the obvious abuse they'd already received, and the undeniable fact that they were revealed here, bouncing grotesquely in the sun for all to see... Goodwife Jane wouldn't be surprised if it sparked some of the weaker-minded townsfolk into madness, a real madness. Who knew what they would do? And yet if they didn't bring Fiona back to the Reverend Donovan's home in a few hours, in basically the same state in which she'd left...

Goodwife Jane didn't want to to think about it. They'd just go down to the proclamation board; Fiona would nail up the piece of paper, as she'd been told to do, and then they'd hurry home and collect Fiona's things before the sun went down. 



They ran into the first townspeople just a few minutes later. Two young men, laborers for a rich farmer who lived about mile away, were dragging a cart filled with vegetables down the road. Jane knew them slightly -- Albert and George, she believed their names were. Albert, the taller one, had a lazy eye that wandered off to the right, and gave the unmistakable impression of being a bit slow. And George – George's long nose was a bit ratlike, in Jane's opinion, but he was quite raffishly good-looking in his way. About the same age, the same low social status...surely they both must know Fiona. Indeed, hadn't she seen George nosing about the house a couple of times a year or so back? 

The two men were engaged in desultory conversation, but when they saw the trio approaching them, they stopped so abruptly that several of the cabbages they were transporting bounced out of the cart and rolled onto the ground. Neither man stooped to retrieve them.

Everyone froze.

Mouths open, the two young men stood and stared. They evinced none of the glee that Jane might have expected from a pair of healthy bucks when confronted with the sight of a near-naked woman – even such a devilishly deformed one as Fiona. Instead, they seemed simply dumbfounded, as though they were staring through a portal into strange and unfamiliar world.

Finally, George managed to voice a syllable that must have been meant as a question, although it came out more like a garbled yelp: "Hoyhhh?!"

The sound seemed to rouse Fiona from her daze. Her head jerked upward, but she was obviously still confused. She blinked her bright green eyes and looked around her, apparently unsure of where she was, or how she had ended up there. The train of her thoughts was – to Jane – amusingly easy to follow. Fiona's head twisted from left to right as she looked first at Jane and then at Lucas, who stared straight ahead, refusing to relax the death-grip he had on her arm. She followed his stern gaze outwards to George and Albert, whose own eyes were pinned, of course, directly to her chest. Taking her cue from the men, she dropped her gaze and caught sight of her own greased and exposed tits. 

"Ohhhhnnnnnnn," she moaned. She began to struggle, but all the writhing and kicking simply set her boobs to bouncing in a way that seemed to hypnotize the men still further. 

"Come on!" Lucas said to Jane. "We owe them no explanation. Let's just complete the task and return the slut to Reverend Donovan's."

They began marching forward, but Fiona shrieked and dug in her heels. "Nononononono," she burbled. 

At first, Jane thought the girl was simply reacting in horror at the thought of being forced to walk into town while stripped to the waist, but when she looked up and saw the two men, still standing stock-still in the middle of the road, she realized there might be another explanation. The expressions of slackjawed idiocy plastered across George and Albert's faces hadn't shifted since they'd caught sight of Fiona, but there were unmistakable signs of movement in their trousers. Two grotesque bumps, thick as pythons, pulsed against the fronts of their pants.

Fiona began to emit a high-pitched, dog-like whine, and it took Jane and Lucas all their strength to drag her forward. Jane prayed that George and Albert would step aside without too much trouble, but as though he'd read her mind, George – the raffish, ratlike one – leaned over, spat on the side of the road, and then brazenly readjusted the bulge in his trousers.

"Well then. 'Allo, Fiona," he said, with a smile that revealed a long row of pointed white teeth. "How're you doin' this fine afternoon?" 

Lucas raised himself to his full height. "Please stand aside, young man. We're headed to town on business from the Reverend."

"Sorry, sir, but I was just passin' a word with Fiona. Me and Fiona know each other from way back, don't we, Fiona? Seem to have gotten yourself in a bit of trouble, have you, lass?"

George reached out and, almost tenderly, tucked a long strand of Fiona's red hair back behind her ear. Fiona flinched at his touch, and the spirit seemed to rush back into her. "Get your hands off me!" she hissed.

"Oops, sorry, sorry!" George held his hands up mock-apologetically. "Didn't mean to offend! So, Goodman Lucas, Goodman Jane – if you don't mind my asking, what has Fiona done to get herself into this mess? Whatever it was, I'm sure the punishment is well-deserved. She always was a feisty creature."

Lucas said coldly, "We don't have time to discuss the details, but it's clear the girl is in league with the devil. Any idiot can see the...results...of her witchcraft."

George leaned back thoughtfully, and once again returned his gaze to Fiona's exposed breasts. "Her massive teats, you mean? Yes, they are unnatural. No doubt about it. Quite...unnatural. Have they only recently swelled to this size?"

Lucas hesitated, unwilling to continue the conversation, but unexpectedly, Albert now interjected a comment. "George. That's Fiona Jenkins. The Irish maid. You've seen her tits before, man, haven'tcha? Didn't you fuck her last year?"

George pursed his mouth as though annoyed and then he relaxed and said, with false politeness, "Oh, no, nothing so dramatic as that. I just wiggled my fingers a bit in her pussy, and she tugged my cock til I came on her knee. Nothing, really. Pardon my language, of course, Goodwife Jane, but it does seem the bounds of propriety have been...relaxed...a bit this afternoon. "

"Whyntcha fuck her?" Albert demanded.

George chuckled. "Good question. She thought she was too good for me at the time. Kept sayin she was savin' herself for her master... I guess she thought that if she shook those tits in his face for long enough he'd leave his old lady and go rut with her in the hay. I figured she was crazy at the time, but then I'd never seen those boobies out in the open. Always wondered what kind of a mixed-up slag would let you up her skirt but not down the front of her apron. Makes a lot more sense now. The last night she was prissing about, refusing to let me shove my meat in that fiery red cunt, I did manage to jam one finger up her tight little bum before she wriggled away. Stank to the devil, but it was worth it to see the wretched lass buck and squirm. I actually think she rather enjoyed it. Is that the case, Goodman Lucas? Does Fiona like a good pounding in the rear?"

Fiona, whose face had by now turned as red as her hair, screamed, "You're a liar, George Macaferry! I never...we never...I'd never have touched you if you hadn't offered me that coin! I wish I'd never set eyes on you in my life! You're a damned liar!" She strained to break free of Jane and Lucas until small beads of sweat formed on her forehead. 

"Well, Fiona," George said, chuckling. "This is quite an engaging debate. But if you hadn't noticed, you're standing in the middle of the road in broad daylight, and you appear to be quite naked. You're making a bit of a scene, and to be frank, I'm finding it rather difficult to follow your arguments while you're wagging your fleshy jugs in my face. So if you don't mind, perhaps we could continue this conversation another time?"

With that, he reached out and, ever so casually, flicked her quivering nipple with his finger. "Good day, Fiona," he said.



With that, George and Albert stepped to the side of the road and gestured to Goodwife Jane, Goodman Lucas and Fiona to pass. Lucas hefted Fiona, who had once again gone weak in the knees, and tried to move forward, but Goodwife Jane remained where she stood. Lucas looked over at his wife, and his stomach went cold. Jane's fine features had hardened into a look of pure rage. Her thin lips were pressed tightly together, and two spots of pink had appeared just above her high-set cheekbones. Lucas knew what this meant. Someone was in trouble, and if he wasn't careful, it might end up being him.

"Is that true, Lucas?" Jane asked her husband in a steely voice. "Have you lain with this despicable harlot?"

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous," Lucas answered truthfully. "The boy was just tormenting Fiona. Let us go."

"But you told me that you first saw her tits weeks ago, and yet you said nothing. How did that come about?"

Lucas's mind raced. He had not laid with Fiona, but answering this question honestly was a bit tricky.

Goodwife Jane pressed on. "Did she try to seduce you? Did she – what was it the boy said? Did she shake her demonic tits in your face? Did she?"

The truth was that she had not. Lucas had come back late one evening rather the worse for drink, and had stumbled into Fiona's bedroom with the vague intention of berating her for not polishing his boots as he had asked her to do earlier in the afternoon. He'd been astonished to find the maidservant lying on top of her bedcovers with her hands between her legs, panting lasciviously as she rubbed herself against a pillow. That was the moment that Lucas had first suspected Fiona of being in league with the devil, and he would happily have told Goodwife Jane as much. Only, he guessed she might not have approved of what he did next, which was to stride into the bedroom and "punish" Fiona for her sinful self-degradation by ripping off her nightdress and forcing her to continue abusing herself as she lay naked on the floor in front of him. Watching Fiona weep in humiliation as she plunged her fingers into her pussy had nearly driven him to resorting to the sin of self-abuse himself. Instead, though, he had left Fiona lying on the ground and returned to the room he shared with Jane, where had given her such a plowing that she had trouble sitting down the next day. 

No, it would do him no good to share that story with his wife. But Lucas was hardly the quick-witted sort, and he struggled to come up with a suitable explanation.

"Well..." He hesitated. Fiona had already been accused of nursing devil-babies, or whatever craziness Reverend Godwin had been nattering on about. The trouble she'd face from Goodwife Jane was nothing compared to what she'd endure when she was roasting in hell. He, on the other hand, still had a chance to save himself from his wife's fury.

"Uh, yes. Yes she did. That's right. Shook them right at me."

"What??" It was Goodwife Jane who actually shrieked the word, but Lucas could tell from the shocked expression on Fiona's face that she was thinking it as well

"It's true." As Lucas gathered steam, he actually began to enjoy his "recollections." "Right. First time it happened was a few weeks ago, evening-time. I was out chopping wood and Fiona came up behind me. 'Hello, Lucas, would you like to take a look at these?' she said. 'What?' I said. But then she just yanked the front of her dress right down and I saw those enormous titties hanging off her. I said, 'Good Lord, Fiona, shove your tits back in your dress and behave! That's a sin, and my wife wouldn't like it, and also, they do seem unnaturally large, perhaps you should have a visit to the doctor?' 'But she just kinda gripped 'em in her hands and shook 'em at me like this," - and here Lucas demonstrated, cupping his hands and waving them out in front of his chest. 

"'Don't you like my big titties, Lucas?' she said. 'Wouldn't you just like to suck on 'em and rub your face in 'em and lick them all over, like this?'" Once again, Lucas demonstrated, shaking his head back and forth and lapping the air. "'Your wife doesn't have big titties like this,' she told me. 'Nobody does. I had to sell my soul to the devil to get them.'"

Here, Lucas paused, wondering if he had gone too far. But looking at his wife, he realized that she'd stopped listening the moment Fiona had "insulted" her smallish breasts. Goodman Lucas had always loved his wife's body. She was tall and slim, with broad, muscular shoulders sculpted by farm work, and long, lean legs that he enjoyed having wrapped around him. Fiona's enormous jugs made his cock rise, of course – no doubt they'd been designed by the devil to do so – but he wouldn't have wanted such monstrosities to suddenly sprout from his wife's elegant figure.

Unfortunately, it seemed too late to tell her so. 

Using all of her farm-wife's strength, Goodwife Jane tore Fiona out of Lucas's grasp. She took the girl by her naked shoulders and shook her so hard that the girl's huge breasts bounced up and down and nearly smacked her in the face. 

"How dare you, you hussy?! After we fed you, clothed you, took you in! Gave you work and pay! How dare you try to seduce my husband?!"

Fiona spluttered, trying to protest, but Jane gave her no chance. In a rage, she flung the girl to the ground. Fiona went flying away, legs akimbo, and landed with a hard bump on her rear. "Oof!" she cried. She reached her arms out to steady herself, but she'd fallen on the edge of the road. As she tried to stand, her legs went out from under her, and she tumbled backwards into a drainage ditch and disappeared from view.

"Oof! Ouch! Ack! Umph!" 

Jane and Lucas rushed over to the side of the road and looked down. Fiona, her bright red hair in tangles, her freckled cheeks covered with light scrapes from the fall, had landed in a deep mud puddle. Her long white legs slipped and scrambled in the muck, and the dark, goopy water was seeping through the makeshift skirt she had tied around her hips. 

"Don't move, slut," Jane commanded from above. Her voice terrified Lucas, who trembled at the thought of the rage that he'd unleashed.

"Um, Jane..." he began. "Don't you think we'd better just do what Reverend Donovan instructed? After all, it's not our fault that the girl is in league with the devil."

"Don't be a fool, Lucas," Jane said harshly. "The fact that Fiona has apparently rented her boobs out to Satan may well be the church's problem, but what she does in my house to my husband is my business. It doesn't matter if the devil inflated her tits to the size of watermelons, or if she's naturally got nubbins the size of peas – if she tries to seduce my husband, she'll face my punishment. Do you understand?"

Lucas nodded. 

"Make sure she doesn't move from that ditch until I get back."

With that, Jane marched down the road. Soon after, Lucas heard her storm into the woods and begin stomping around in the brushes. When that sound reached his ears, he knew what was coming. He didn't envy Fiona, but he figured that, given the extent of his wife's fury, things could have gone worse.




The Devil's Teats



Fiona, on the other hand, had no idea what was happening. She looked up at him pathetically. Her plump bottom lip shook, and her green eyes filled with tears. "Please, master," she begged. "Please tell the mistress the truth. You know I didn't do what you said. Please have mercy!"

"Be quiet, idiot," Lucas said. "Would you rather I told your mistress that I caught you one night with your hand shoved halfway up your cunt? You deserve what you get. Anyway, she ain't gonna kill you. You've got worse things to worry about, like whatever it is those Reverends have cooked up for you. Calm down, will you?"

His words had the opposite of the desired effect. Fiona began bawling. Tears poured down her face. "It's not my fauuuuuuuuuuuuult. I didn't dooooooooo annnythiiiiiiiiiing...."

"Shut your hole, slut!"

Lucas jumped at the sound of an unfamiliar voice beside him. He turned to his left and realized that George and Albert had never left the road. They'd been joined, in fact, by a handful of other curious onlookers. Now, a half-dozen heads peered down curiously at the girl weeping in the drainage ditch.



Five minutes later, Jane returned from the woods. In her hand, she carried a long bundle of thin, sharp sticks that she'd tied together with the string from her apron. The switch – for that's what it was – was perhaps a foot long, and as thick as a grown man's wrist. This was no joke. Lucas knew that on occasion, when she saw fit to spank the children, Jane would demand that they gather the sticks for their own switches, which made extra work but ensured that none of the sticks would be made of poison oak, or be covered in thorns. Lucas wondered what sorts of considerations Jane might have taken in to account when she'd plucked the sticks she would use to beat Fiona. 

Jane stood at the top of the drainage ditch. "Are you ready to face your punishment, slut?"

Fiona looked mutely up at the vengeful Jane, a worried expression on her face. From that angle, at first she didn't see the branches that Jane had gathered. Once she did, though, and realized what was about to happen, again she began to cry and beg. 

"No, no, Ma'am. Please don't beat me. Please. Show mercy!" 

"Fool! You deserve much worse than this. You're lucky that I have to return you to the Reverend before the evening, or I'd dole out a punishment you'd never forget. Now crawl out of that ditch like the dog you are!"

"Nononononono," Fiona mumbled.

Jane didn't realize it, but she couldn't have chosen a more devastating torture for Fiona if she'd tried. Back in Ireland, a strict schoolmaster, Mr. O'Hara, had taken it into his head that the teenage Fiona had an unruly spirit and needed strict, regular discipline if she was going to grow up into a properly obedient young lady. Every afternoon after school, whether she'd misbehaved or not, Fiona had been required to remain in the classroom and bend over the schoolmaster's knee while he paddled her rear with his hand. . She still remembered the way that the younger students would gather at the window to peek and laugh as she draped herself across Mr. O'Hara's lap, and how loudly the sound of the spanks had seemed to echo around the empty classroom. After each spanking she'd had to kneel on the floor, kiss the schoolmaster's shoe and say, "Thank you for punishing me, Mr. O'Hara." Oh, how she'd hated that!

"MOVE IT!"

Fiona whimpered and got to her feet.

"I said, CRAWL!"

Oh, God. The thick wool blanket she was wearing as a skirt was covered in filth, and Fiona could feel the dirty water trickling down her thighs. She leaned down awkwardly, and her fingers sank into the mud. She bent her knees slightly, trying to find a position in which she could move without – oh, no. Her legs slipped a little beneath her and huge, naked tits swung down and plopped into the mud with a splash. There was a snicker from one of the men watching from above. Better just to get this over with. She sank onto her knees and dragged herself forward, her long nipples smearing strange patterns in the slippery muck. She scrambled up the top of the drainage ditch and collapsed in the road at Jane's feet. 

Fiona gazed imploringly up at her mistress. To Jane, she looked as ashamed as a puppy who had peed on the carpet, and she needed to be reprimanded as firmly. 

"Stay on your knees and follow me," Jane commanded.

Jane swept down the road and Fiona crawled behind her, scrambling to keep up. The sole good thing about crawling was that she felt that her naked breasts were at least partially hidden from the crowd of onlookers that trailed behind them. Otherwise, though, her tits were suffering. The swirls of grease and mud that slathered her swinging breasts sucked up the dust that rose up from the road, caking them in a heavy, repulsive mess. Her nipples, meanwhile, were so stretched from all the abuse they'd taken that they scraped along the ground as she crawled, and soon burned terribly from the road's rough abrasion.

After what seemed like miles to the exhausted Fiona, but was really nothing more than a few yards, Jane stepped off the road and halted in front of a large, rotting stump.

Jane pointed at the stump and announced imperiously, "All right, harlot. Arrange yourself there."

Fiona eyed the stump. It was nearly a foot and a half high, irregularly shaped and only as wide as a small table at its broadest point. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't – what do you mean?"

"Idiot! Climb onto the stump and lie down on it, face-first."

"Yes, Mistress."

Her heart pounding, Fiona hauled herself up onto the stump. How best to do this? Her instincts led her to keep protecting her sore and exposed breasts with her arms, but she couldn't quite fit on the stump unless she curled up a bit, like this...

"Fool!" Fiona felt Jane grab hold of both of her arms and yank. Fiona was jerked forward so that her naked stomach scraped along the bottom of the stump. In a series of rough tugs, Jane positioned Fiona so that her arms were stretched out in front of her on the ground, supporting her weight. She was angled slightly downwards, and her breasts fell forward into her face so that she had to strain to lift her head up to avoid being suffocated. Only her hips and thighs were supported by the stump; her legs jutted out awkwardly and she felt at any minute as though she might slip and fall to the ground.

Fiona looked wildly around her. This couldn't be happening! Surely someone would come to her aid! 

"This harlot has been trucking with the devil and aimed to steal my husband!" Goodwife Jane announced to the crowd that had assembled around them. "Reverend Donovan and the other men of the church have devised a proper plan of treatment to save her from damnation, but I am going to show you now what happens to any wench who tries to steal my husband, whether her soul belongs to Satan or not!"

There were scattered cheers and whistles from the audience. Fiona searched for Goodman Lucas, who was the only one who – perhaps – could save her by revealing the truth. 

"Are you ready for your punishment, Fiona?" Jane asked. 

"Yes, mistress," Fiona whispered meekly. Images of Mr. O'Hara's afternoon sessions were flooding into her head. The gleeful onlookers, the degrading position she'd been forced to assume – was it better to be draped across this stump than to be stretched across an old man's bony lap? But at least when Mr. O'Hara had paddled her, she'd been fully dressed. Now, her hips were covered by the blanket, (thank God!) but she hated to think about the way the spanking would make her boobs jiggle and bounce. It would provide such a humiliating show for the crowd...

As Goodwife Jane approached her from behind, Fiona had a terrible thought. When Goodwife Jane disciplined her children, she usually -

Oh no! Fiona cried out loud, but her yelp was covered by the crowd's commotion. Jane had taken Fiona by the hips and lifted her slightly into the air. She grabbed the girl's makeshift skirt – Fiona's last poor claim to modesty! - and tugged it down, down, down until it hung in a tangled bunch around her ankles.

"Nooooooooooo..." Jane plopped the now-naked Fiona back down and readjusted her position slightly, so that her bare, white ass lay smack in the middle of the stump. The crowd -which was growing increasingly rowdy - whooped and cheered. Fiona's ass may not have been as spectacular as her devilishly gigantic tits, but it was, in its own way, perfect: her buttocks were petite, but plump and very rounded, like two scoops of pure vanilla ice cream. 

Fiona whipped her head frantically back and forth. Her awkward position was already causing her arms to ache, and her tired neck kept drooping, plunging her face into her own filthy cleavage. The late afternoon sun blinded her, so that she could only half see the crowd that gathered around her, cheering Jane on and rooting for Fiona's total degradation. A cool breeze picked up, lifting her hair and moving gently between her ass cheeks. She had a strange thought – her ass had never been exposed to the sun before. What if she burned? 

"Lift your head, Fiona," Jane said, her voice edged by a cruel sweetness. "I want you to count the strokes for me. How many seem fair? Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Yes, thirty sounds about right, I think. Now remember, it's your job to keep track. If you lose count, it will only be the worse for you!" 

"Yes'm," Fiona mumbled. 

"Good girl." Jane reached down and, almost contemplatively, ran her hand ever so gently along the curve of Fiona's backside. Like an artist making a few final touches to her canvas, she placed her palms on each of Fiona's round buttocks and spread them open just slightly, so that the girl's rosebud hole was just visible. Then she ran a fingernail – again, with the gentlest of touches – along the lips of Fiona's cunt up along the crack between her butt cheeks. Fiona groaned, and a deep shiver racked her frame.

Jane patted Fiona's ass almost affectionately, so that the soft white flesh trembled. "All right. Almost ready. Are you comfortable?"

Fiona said nothing. She kept her head help up as instructed, and fat tears dripped down her cheeks. As though doing Fiona a favor, Jane reached down and readjusted one of Fiona's breasts, which was being squished slightly by the curve of the stump. 

"There. All right. Ready. Don't forget to count, now. And remember, this is for trying to seduce my husband, slut!" Jane crouched over Fiona's prone body and lifted the bundle of sticks to the sky. Fiona's anus clenched in terrified anticipation.

With her full strength, Jane brought the switch down onto Fiona's trembling ass. The switch whistled as it flew through the air, and hit Fiona's naked flesh with an echoing SMACK.

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Fiona shrieked. Her back arched as her plump ass bucked and pumped. Her legs kicked helplessly, and a long red welt rose up on her pale, perfect skin, crossing right across the center of her buttocks. A round of enthusiastic applause came from the audience.

"Fionaaaaaa," Jane warned. "You want that to count, don't you?"

Dizzy with humiliation and the stinging pain buzzing on her rear, at first, Fiona didn't understand. "Wha- what?" 

SMACK! With no warning, Jane brought the switch down on Fiona's bare ass, and once again Fiona hollered in pain. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoooooooooooo!'

Fiona gasped for breath. Her anus felt as though it had been penetrated by a swarm of angry hornets. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease stop," she whined. "It hurts! It hurts!"

SMACK! "Unnnnghghgunnnghunnngh," Fiona moaned. Her head drooped. The pain was unbearable, and yet once again she could feel a strange wetness leaking between her legs. What if she dripped on the ground? Could everyone see?

"We haven't even started yet, Fiona!" 

"Huhh?" Fiona struggled to focus her eyes. All she could see were the two pale penumbras of her filthy tits, topped by two red nipples, hanging in front of her face. 

"Ughngh?" she lifted her head and tried to concentrate on the demands of her tormenter.

SMACK! Once again, the evil switch landed like a hail of fire on Fiona's raw and twitching rear. This time, Jane prodded the thick bundle of sticks against Fiona's stinging buttocks, prying them open and wiggling the rough switch so that it scraped painfully against Fiona's cunt and thighs. "Count, Fiona! Count, or we'll be here until the sun goes down!" Finally, Fiona understood.

Jane lifted her arm and swung. SMACK! Fiona's eyes rolled in pain. At first, no words would form. The crowd surrounding the girl waited with bated breath. "C'mon, Fiona! You can do it!" someone shouted.

Fiona's lips parted. She felt as though her whole body had been reduced to nothing but a pair of swollen, angry buttocks. In her confused mind, her ass had swelled up until it had become enormously large, ballooning to the size of her massive tits and then growing bigger, bigger, bigger, until she was nothing but a gigantic pile of ass-flesh, and every inch of her glowed with humiliation and pain.

"One," she whispered.

At last, the spanking had begun.

Watching his wife spank their naked maidservant in front of a crowd of leering spectators, Lucas felt a desire for Jane that was unmatched in all twenty years of their marriage. The strength and power of Jane's muscled arm...the cool with which she tormented Fiona, forcing her to count aloud the strokes of her humiliation... the way she seemed to know exactly how to drag the girl to the edge of total collapse and then play with her there, offering her a sip of water or a soothing pat on the forehead, reviving her just enough so that she could be knocked back down again – Lucas had never heard the word sadism but he found this sadistic streak in his wife profoundly sexy. And it was all for him, all inspired by the jealousy Jane felt at the thought of Fiona trying to seduce him! For a moment, Lucas imagined what life might be like if they didn't have to return Fiona to the Reverend at the end of the day. Perhaps he and Jane could be placed in charge of the girl's redemption, and the three of them could spend long, hot sweaty evenings in the bedroom, Jane inventing new punishments for Fiona as he watched, or even assisted. Surely there were torments Jane might like to inflict on Fiona that required a man's strong grip, or his hard cock...

Ah, but the scene playing out in front of him now was too delicious to ignore in favor of bedroom fantasies, no matter how sordid. Fiona was nearing the end of her beating, and her strength was definitely flagging. Luckily, the crowd had risen to the occasion, and seemed more than happy to assist her in making it through the ordeal. Fiona was still awkwardly astraddle the stump, but her slim arms had grown tired from supporting her weight, and she kept tumbling out of position. George and Albert, Fiona's friends from earlier in the afternoon, had kindly positioned themselves on either side of her, so whenever she toppled over, they would take hold of her and haul her back up so her ass was returned to the center of the stump where it belonged. 

The fact that one of them always took the opportunity to goose her sore behind or to give one of her huge boobs a tweak was a source of much hilarity to the crowd. Indeed, they'd begun a kind of unofficial competition among themselves to see who could shock Fiona into blurting out the most ridiculous noise of startled surprise: George was in the lead for the high-pitched "Aarp!" she'd emitted when, while pretending to resettle her on the stump, he'd plunged his middle finger deep into her behind, but Albert was a close second for the gurgling howl she'd let out when he'd actually tried to catch her by the nipple as she'd rolled off her spanking platform. Remember the look on Fiona's face as she landed with a bump in the dirt, her puffy pink nipple gripped tightly in Albert's meaty fist, brought tears of laughter to Lucas's eyes. The only reason the crowd liked the ass-yelp better was because she'd cried out a bit louder that time, he reflected. Indeed, Fiona -who had done a lifetime's worth of shrieking and groaning this afternoon - was beginning to grow hoarse, so much so that she was having trouble counting her spanks aloud. The crowd, though, had begun to ecstatically shout out each stroke as it came down, so that luckily for Fiona, all she had to do was mouth the words.

"TWENTY-SEVEN" the group roared. Word of the ribald amusement at hand must have spread throughout town, because the size of the audience had grown considerably – there had to be almost two dozen people gathered around Fiona, the people in the back standing on tiptoes and jumping up and down to try and get a better view. Lucas saw that one man had even hoisted his young son onto his shoulder so the boy could see what was going on. Good lord, what a world!

Fiona looked like she might be about to pass out. To the crowd's dismay, she didn't roll off of the stump – she'd learned her lesson after that last ass poke, Lucas wagered – but her head drooped down so that her face was buried deep in her cleavage. 

"Poor tired harlot! Should we give her a rest?" Jane called out to the crowd. 

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" the crowd shouted. My God, how Jane was enjoying this, Lucas marveled. He'd never have imagined his upright wife could have such merry viciousness in her.

"All right, Fiona, you heard them – no rest for the weary!" Jane cried. She adjusted the angle of the bristly switch so that it was pointing downwards, and nudged and prodded at the girl's closed thighs. "Wakey wakey!" Getting no response from Fiona, she pushed the switch all the way down between Fiona's legs and then twirled it briskly so that the rough sticks scraped against Fiona's tender cunt and hole. Imagining his balls receiving the same rough treatment, Lucas winced in sympathy.

Fiona's head flew up, her eyes wide with shock and surprise. "OW! sorry sir, forgive me Mr. O'Hara, I'll do anything, just please don't spank me again!" she cried confusedly, as though waking from a deep sleep.

The crowd only laughed at her disorientation, but it seemed to irritate Jane. "Mr. O'Hara? Mr. O'Hara! Was he one of the lovers you took before you tried to seduce my husband?" Jane yanked the switch roughly from Fiona's thighs, causing the girl to flinch. Jane stalked around the stump until she was standing in front of the girl, and then brandished the switch in front of Fiona's face. "Did your lover Mr. O'Hara used to spank you back in Ireland?"

Fiona tried to twist away from the switch, but Jane pressed it into her face. "Did your Mr. O'Hara teach you to enjoy this rough treatment, just a little bit? Does all the attention you're getting make you leak between the legs?" Jane's voice rose. "It's not that hard of a question, young lady. The answer is right here in front of your face. Is this spanking making you wet, Fiona? Come on. Tell the crowd, whore. After all, the evidence is right here." Jane swatted Fiona across the mouth, rubbing her lips with the branches. "It's. Right. Under. Your. Nose." 

Fiona pressed her eyes shut and tried to twist her mouth away from the switch Jane was jamming against her upper lip. "Sniff it, slut!" Jane shouted. "Tell us how you smell!"

Fiona took a little gasping breath, but kept her eyes shut, and said nothing.

"Fine. If you won't, maybe someone else will." Jane turned to her assistant, who'd been taking the opportunity to idly tug on one of Fiona's drooping nipples. "George, would you like to do the honors? Tell these good people whether Fiona has been enjoying her punishment?"

Jane reached out to hand the switch to George, but Fiona summoned her strength and croaked out, "Nooo..."

"What, Fiona? You don't want George examining the switch? Whyever not?"

"Please don't..." Fiona swallowed. "Please just finish the punishment."