Free The Young Governess by Phoebe Gardener Page B

To plead temporary insanity. Anything! But after dinner and some more of the delicious, heady wine that she found so hard to resist, she had gone along meekly with them. After all, she reasoned to herself, she may as well get it over and done with. Then perhaps they would leave her alone.
    The interior of the Hall was brightly illuminated by a myriad of lamps and candles and to Kate the effect seemed quite beautiful. Extravagant quantities of fresh flowers had been placed in great vases placed decoratively around the raised platform at the end of the Hall and their scent filled the large room. Again, there was the same number of women – about fifteen, thought Kate, not counting the Handmaidens – as the last time she was here. They were talking animatedly, but an expectant hush descended upon the company as the Walthrop party arrived and all eyes were upon Kate. Again, in the centre of the dais, sat that instrument of her last torture, the prie-dieu. The Handmaidens were much in evidence.
    The woman who had been dressed entirely in black on her last visit came up to them. Now she wore ecclesiastical purple robes similar to those that the Reverend had worn on that occasion, and Kate realised that this must be Mrs Pike.
    She addressed herself to Alice, however, not Kate.
    “So, this is to be our new young Follower, Lady Fordham. Pretty. Very pretty.”
    She clapped her hands once and six nubile young beauties appeared.
    “Handmaidens! Take her to be disrobed!”
    Kate seemed to glide mysteriously from one situation to another with no conscious memory of the journey, as if her sense of time and space were slightly distorted; once more she found herself in the vestry. This time, however, the half-dozen, smiling, robed Handmaidens who undressed her were much freer with their delicately enquiring, busily delving and tweaking fingers. “How pretty she is!” Kate heard one half-whisper to one another, “See how ripe an’ ready fer plucking!” “Blimey! fer fucking, don’tcher mean?” the other said, and the voices dissolved into more giggles. Such liberties they took, thought Kate vaguely. Her nipples were pinched into a state of reddened stiffness. Eager young hands cupped her breasts. Her pubic hair was fluffed and combed; her labia were squeezed and stroked, with special attention to the clitoris. Not even her pretty little bottom-hole was left in peace, as an oil-slick finger insinuated itself to the first knuckle there. Kate started to quiver and shake with the divine sensations induced by these mischievous, but tender, ministrations. She felt pleasantly light-headed, and seemed to drift in and out of a delicious warm and dreamlike state. Finally, rouge was applied to her cheeks and her nipples.
    Suddenly Kate was aware that she was back in the hall, and the atmosphere had been transformed. Where she had left a gathering of respectably dressed young and middle-aged women, now a witches’ coven existed. All were naked or nearly naked. All focussed their smiling attention on the youthful governess. She was led to the prie-dieu and bade to lie down, this time, on her back. A circle of predatory female faces looked down upon her and Kate felt scared. What did they want of her… surely not all of them were… lesbians!
    The group parted to give a new arrival space. Like the others, Bella Pike was naked, but for a leather belt around her waist, from which dangled a fearsome device made of black India rubber and fashioned in the shape of an erect male member. In her drugged condition, certain details became almost preternaturally clear and now she could see that the shape of the phallus was more complex than she had thought. It was grooved in such a way that the ridges would give maximum sensation to its recipient. The scrawny cleric’s wife stood at Kate’s feet, looking down on her sacrificial lamb. Her dark, beady eyes glittered greedily. Kate noticed that her breasts drooped and that she had a little pot belly,