30. Aurora

30

AURORA

I sank into the steaming bath feeling strange and uneasy. On one hand, I liked that Slade had defended my honor—that was the right thing to do in such a situation. But the way he had cut off Hornsby’s fingers so casually was harder to wrap my head around.

Then again, part of me insisted that he deserved it. I couldn’t help remembering the vile things I had overheard Hornsby and his group saying when I was younger that had sealed my opinion of the odious Noble .

I had been helping with the spring cleaning at the time and I was standing behind a long curtain, washing one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the Great Hall of the palace. A group of Nobles —all male, of course—had come along and happened to stop right in front of the window I was washing. I could hear them speaking and when I peaked through the slit between the curtains, I could see them as well. But they had no idea I was there.

“ She smelled like old fish when she spread her legs!” It was Hornsby talking and he waved his hand in front of his face as though trying to get rid of an odor as he spoke. “ Even for a commoner, she smelled rank!”

“ Probably because she’s had so many cocks in her,” another man— Lord Dysthrop —said. “ She’s used goods—used up and disgusting. Her pussy is probably all worn out—all stretched out and saggy!”

This prompted a trollish burst of laughter.

“ But she charges so little it’s a bargain,” a third man claimed. “ I’ve half a mind to try her, just to see what all the fuss is about.”

“ I wager she’s still tight enough for you to get some pleasure,” Hornsby said, shrugging. “ You should be fine as long as you hold your nose.”

More laughter followed this which seemed to encourage Hornsby to go on.

“ But they all smell, don’t they? The little sluts. It doesn’t matter if they’re commoner or Noble , the smell of cunt is always the same and always disgusting.”

“ Speak for yourself, Hornsby ,” another Noble , Count Whisty countered. “ I’ve been with women who aren’t all that bad.”

Hornsby snorted in derision.

“ Hark at Whisty here. No doubt he gets his nose so close to their cunts because he’s tasting them at the time!”

The men laughed again—all except for Count Whisty .

“ You take that back, Hornsby !” he demanded. “ How dare you accuse me of such a foul practice? I would never put my mouth where only my cock should go!”

“ That’s not what I’ve heard.” Hornsby leered at him. “ I heard you got one of your maids pregnant but first you licked her cunny hole.”

“ I got her pregnant—that’s true enough,” Whisty agreed. “ The little slut was asking for it—always bending over around me to poke up the fire or make up the bed. But damned if I would put my tongue in such a foul place! I’d sooner lick the garbage heap or the seat of the servant’s outhouse in the middle of summer.”

“ Well , at least the outhouse would smell better!” Hornsby exclaimed and all four of them burst into laughter again.

They moved on a few minutes later, but I remained behind the curtains, feeling hurt and disgusted and attacked though I couldn’t say why. After all, they hadn’t said those nasty things about me—it was some poor peasant girl they’d been talking about.

But they were talking about all women—not just her, I thought to myself. And I wondered—were they right? Did we all stink? Were we all dirty and disgusting?

Every single one of those men seemed to agree that women were unclean and that putting their mouth on a woman’s lady parts was a worse fate than licking a foul, germ ridden garbage heap or an outhouse seat. Therefore it must be so.

I was still quite young and impressionable when I overheard that conversation but it had stayed with me and made me self-conscious ever since. I had been extra certain to keep myself clean after that, sometimes bathing my private areas four and five times a day. Anything to keep from being dirty and disgusting.

That was why it was so difficult for me to believe that Slade really did want to taste me there—to lick my pussy. Because why would he want to put his mouth on such a nasty area? A little voice inside my head kept telling me that he might think that he wanted to do it but once he got between my legs and actually put his mouth and nose near my cunny, he would recoil in disgust.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because he’s never getting near me to do that! I told myself firmly.

I thought about getting out of the bath and drying off, but I decided to soak a little longer. My skin felt hot—almost feverish—and the water, which had grown cold, felt good lapping all around me.

I must have dozed off because when I woke up, the sun streaming in through the bathroom window seemed to be much lower in the sky. The water was ice cold now but my skin still felt hot. I was woozy and light-headed but I put it down to having a nap in the afternoon, which I generally try not to do.

Feeling wobbly, I carefully climbed out of the bathtub and wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel. I would feel better once I dressed, I told myself. Then I could wake up some and be more myself.

Leaving the bathroom, I found that someone—maybe one of the maids—had already put away all of my new clothing. The new dresses and trousers were hung in the large, walk-in closet and the shoes were lined up on the shoe rack underneath. The new underwear had been neatly put away in the top drawer of the dresser. Whoever had placed it had been careful to keep all the bra and panty sets together.

I grabbed a set at random—it was white lace—and pulled it on.

The minute I pulled the bra into place, I noticed that something was wrong. My nipples—which were visible through the clear mesh panels in the front of the bra—looked extremely red and swollen. They were tender too—the soft fabric felt itchy against their tender tips.

It was the same story below. My cunny was hot and red and painful but not in an “ouch, that hurts!” kind of way. It was more like an itch I needed to scratch only I didn’t know how to do it. My clit was throbbing and I felt empty inside, almost as though my pussy was begging to be filled.

The feelings inside me were strange—so strange I didn’t know what to make of them. Maybe they were just some new form of The Need , I thought. But why would I ache with emptiness? And why did my whole body feel feverish?

Should I ask Slade for help? I didn’t like to admit I needed him—or that I wanted him to touch me. But it would be nice to be held in his arms and smell his warm, spicy, masculine scent. I found it comforting for some reason. If he would just hold me and not do anything else, I was sure I would feel better.

I was about to go find him but the first step I took, I stumbled. I tried to catch myself but a wave of weakness rushed over me. Suddenly everything was spinning around and around. I gave a weak cry as I collapsed. The carpeted floor of the bedroom rushed up to meet me…and then everything went dark.