Page 6 of Against Her Will

Still somewhat befuddled by whatever it was that they had been giving her, Cassie nonetheless knew that what was happening to her could not happen. Her reputation would be in ruins. There was a strange man – well, one she barely knew, anyway – reaching for the buttons of her blouse while one of the other women in the room – who was not Sissy, who usually helped her undress at the end of an evening – began to unbutton the skirt of the rough clothes he had put her into after divesting her of that entirely impractical and garish dress, which he had burned quite thoroughly in the fireplace of the first lodgings they had occupied

She tried to yell at them to stop, but her tongue wasn’t working at all well yet, so instead she began to struggle against them with all her might. Her uncoordinated movements had absolutely no effect, except that she had caused both of them to need to hold her, at least until one of the ladies leaned over and pulled a cord that hung near the wall, and seconds later two behemoths took the place of the women who had been subduing her, allowing the two females to devote themselves more fully to rendering her naked, which she was appalled to realize took only a few very short seconds.

All too soon she was barely on her tip toes, held so high up due to the sheer height of her captors that her toes only now and then grazed the uninvitingly cold, rough wood floor. She was blushing so hard she thought she was going to faint from it, exposed so vulgarly in front of everyone, even Sissy.

Once her eyes descended on the only familiar face in the room, she found her tongue. “Help me, Sissy! Get me out of here! I need to go home, and Papa would want you to take me. I’m sure he’ll give you money for your bravery. Save me! Heeellllllp meeeee!” Her last two words were long and drawn out and became more so as she realized that the person she had thought was going to be her savior hadn’t reacted in any way to her pleas, remaining, instead, stoic and silent in the corner of the room.

Sissy stared at her former mistress with haunted but almost lifeless eyes, recounting in her mind every slight that had been heaped on her from the moment she was born to the last open palmed slap she had received from Cassie that night – that seemed so long ago – when her efforts at styling her hair hadn’t been quite up to snuff, as well as the innumerable times it had happened before, in much the same way. If she didn’t receive a rounding crack across the face, it was a session over the lap of a girl who was younger than she was, nude just like Cassie was now, getting her fanny tanned with a doubled up length of the family’s favorite implement.

Only when she’d run through all of the insults to dignity that the Winthrops had doled out to her over the years did she move towards the woman who had had such iron clad control of whether her life was going to be at least somewhat bearable or out and out torture, day in and day out for the past twelve years. And there had hardly been a day she could remember – perhaps only Christmas Day itself – when she hadn’t been subject to some form of physical punishment.

So when she stood in front of Cassie, lips tight and jaw set, she drew back her arm and cracked the younger woman across the face, as hard as she could. And Sissy had been eating much better lately, so she had more strength than she normally would have, making Cassie’s head snap back until the guards shook her a bit, forcing her to face the person she had dominated for so long.

But Sissy had already turned and was heading for the door. That’s when Cassie found herself entirely unable to stop begging her to come back.

“Come back! You have to help me! Sissy, please!” she pleaded, sobbing and just letting herself hang by her arms between the two men.

Sissy never so much as flinched or paused or hesitated in the least as she reached for the door knob and began to turn it.

“Sissy! NOOOO! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME!”

But apparently she could, quite easily, as the door closed with a deafeningly final click.

Cassie struggled mightily in hopes of following her, of course, but to no avail.

Victor came to stand in front of her, right where Cassie had been, tipping her chin up as he had Sissy’s. “You will do well to conserve your strength. And the sooner you come to terms with the fact that the life you led up to this point is gone, the better. You and Sissy have traded positions. How strange that must feel to you. She is now a free woman, and you are no better than a slave.” He looked up and nodded to the men who were holding her, who immediately began to carry her into another room, where they deposited her in a huge wooden tub filled with very hot water.

As soon as they let go, of course, she tried to get up again, that was until she felt the unholy sting of something hard and unyielding being brandished against the tender – and now thoroughly wet – skin of her behind.

No one had ever so much as raised a hand to her before in her life, and now within two minutes or so she had been struck across the face and was now being subjected to paddling very much like what she knew the littler slaves were subjected to if they were discovered to be misbehaving. She was held fast over the edge of the tub, unable to get all the way out or sink deeper into the water, but kept immobile until the horrible woman who was wielding the implement of her deepest sorrow grew tired of doing so.

She screamed and cried and moaned and carried on with absolutely no thought to how she looked or sounded – she just wanted the pain to stop, and it was a terribly long time before it did. And then she was just lowered back into the nearly scalding water, her bottom already well roasted, which only added to her discomfort. Even when she was let go, sitting in the tub surrounded by two large women and two even larger men who were ogling her openly, the discomfort in her posterior only seemed to grow worse as her weight pressed it down onto the rough hewn, splintery wooden bottom.

From that point on, all either of the women had to do was to show her the paddle when she did something they didn’t like – such as try to bite their fingers as they washed her face. The two mountainous men remained in the room, moving with obvious reluctanct into positions just by the door, in case something happened that the women couldn’t handle or they were needed in some other way.

Cassie had never been so thoroughly scrubbed in all her life. She felt as if they were actually trying to remove the first layer of her skin. And they didn’t just stop at the ordinary places, either – back, arms, legs. The two of them forcibly splayed her out within the tub, calling the men over to hold her in the position they preferred, with wrists at each of the top two corners of the tub and her ankles at the bottom two as she fought uselessly against being so obscenely displayed. Then each of them took a cloth in their hand, one of them soaping and rubbing each of her breasts, down to repeatedly tweaking the reluctantly peaked nipples while the other rooted around most rudely between her legs, and even to her bottom hole, rubbing and scrubbing and trying to press up into areas of her body that she had barely had contact with herself except for what was absolutely necessary. All while two pairs of greedy male eyes absorbed every single detail of her complete humiliation.

Being dried off was no less traumatic or uncomfortable. The sheets they used felt as if they were made of burlap or worse, especially on her throbbing backside, which seemed to be a great source of moisture, if the amount of time they spent lingering there to dry it was any indication. And then one of them stood in front of her and told her to spread her legs, which she adamantly refused to do.

One small nod and her ankles were practically kicked out from under her as the bigger of the two men knocked her legs well apart, till she nearly tipped over from the awkwardness of the position, and she would have if the other man hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When they each had a hold of her upper arms again, she realized that she didn’t know where the other woman had gone – until she felt the wicked sting of that paddle against her backside again.

Within a disgracefully few swats, Cassie was horse from howling, not that that stopped or even slowed the matron’s cadence as she beat the young woman’s buttocks nearly raw.

Blubbering, screaming, begging did no good whatsoever, but Cassie found she couldn’t stop doing any of them, regardless, even when the Count reappeared to lean back against the wall and just watch her completely degradation.

Finally, the spanking ended, and Cassie was almost to overwrought by it to notice how intimately she was being dried. There was no hesitation at all in the older woman’s actions – she reached up between Cassie’s well spread legs and rubbed her dry nearly to the point of chafing those very intimate parts of her. And then she went around back to do the same thing between the folds of her bottom, leaving Cassie feelings thoroughly violated and horribly sore in places she had never even thought about before. The area between her legs thrummed with nearly the same, pulse-driven stinging that her thoroughly reddened backside did.

She was led – relatively docilely and still buck naked – back into the room in which she had awakened. The Count followed them and took a seat in an office chair and began casually reading a newspaper, as if nothing special was going on. She desperately wanted to lunge at him and rip his heart out, but considering the way that her behind felt, she judiciously decided against it. She would bide her time and find an escape – there had to be one.

Didn’t there?

Chapter Three

Cassie was even more unprepared for what happened next, when one of the women – the one he had referred to as Matushka – patted the top of a long thin table, indicating that she was expected to get on top of it. Although she had not been allowed any sort of covering whatsoever, and she had been rudely poked and prodded by those horrible women already in the course of that bath, she was still doing her best to maintain her modesty, keeping one arm across her breasts and her palm cupped tightly over her mons.

“She’s well seated, Sir,” the female who had gestured for her to get onto the table said.

“Ah, thank you. That was exactly what I was hoping for.”

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