A Handmaid's Tail

"Pray harder," Hilda laughed at the former handmaid's duress. "If you would like to take a turn on the table, I can give you pleasure you never imagined. Just this once. Isn't that what you wanted? Since you are no longer the Princess's handmaid, I can take off these gloves and touch you. Skin to skin. And then you can show me the tricks she has taught you my pretty. I have heard tale of what you do for the Princess and it's made me hot for it."

"I'm promised to God now," Anelle said, moving into the corner, as far away as possible. Her face blushing a bright red by the betrayal of her body. She pressed her hand firmly to her legs and thighs to prevent them from moving on their own volition. Oh how she wanted to just give in. To hop on that table and let Hilda have her way with her. Gods, how she deserved it after all she had been through. Yet, she knew if she did, she would surely do it again and again. She would have only traded one cruel Mistress for another.

After what seemed like hours, Hilda finally finished her ministrations. Antoinette was totally smooth. Denuded. But there was more. She was dressed with no undergarments save her hosiery. While she was used to corsets, she had never been put into one quite so tight, trimming her already small abdomen to one but two hands around. The dress wasn't an ordinary dress either. Like Anelle's, it had a secret, there was a hidden slit up the middle, hidden by extra fabric that ran to the side, which allowed the knowledgeable easy access to the wares beneath. Then there was the top. On Anelle, it showed an expanse of cleavage almost all the way down to her pink nipples. But on Antoinette it displayed everything that wasn't. Her small breasts would be totally exposed if she leaned forward, as she did not have enough cleavage to hold the top in place.

Antoinette wasn't sure what it took to make her presentable to the Princess. So far, it just seemed to make her more and more humiliated. Worse, Hilda was constantly touching the poor girl, bringing her close to climax time and time again. Antionette couldn't deny her state of arousal. The evidence was displayed on the wet sodden gloves Hilda wore. They kept getting wetter and wetter, and it wasn't till the bell sounded twice that she stopped teasing the frustrated handmaid.

"It's time for you to get back to the Princess," Hilda said, quickly stripping off her gloves, her hand quickly moving beneath her dress to bring herself off.

"We must hurry," Anelle said, taking Antoinette arm and pulling her out the door.

"Pray wait Anelle," Antoinette panted. "I must catch my breath. I can hardly walk."

"No Mistress," Anelle said. "We must hurry back to the Princess. Hilda is even now sending a maid behind us. If she arrives before us, you will be sorely punished. It is the Princess's way of assuring that you will not be tempted to spoil yourself..."

Antoinette almost fell down when she realized what the maid was suggesting. "I'm not allowed to...." pleasure myself - she finished in her mind.

"Only at the whim of the Princess," Anelle said. "She thinks a frustrated maid .... is more attentive to her needs. It is not easy being the Princess's handmaid. You must pray long and pray hard. Hurry, I think I hear the maid's footsteps approach."

"I beg of you," Antoinette said. "When you leave. Please get word to Duke Lagnelle. He's a French Duke. Tell him that..." she hesitated. She couldn't admit to being a Princess. "Tell him that I remember well my summers as his house. I would like to return and spend some time knitting with his daughter once again."

"If I can," Anelle said. "But the message will have to go through someone else. I will dedicate my life to God."

The two handmaidens rushed to the Princess's quarters, narrowly beating a young maid close on their heels.

"You just made it," Mary said. To the other maid: "You may go now. My new handmaid has arrived safely. Be sure the door is closed behind you."

"Let me take the collar from your neck Anal," Mary said, as she took a key kept on a chain around her neck and unlocked the collar from Anelle's long neck. "Now, show the new handmaid how to present herself to her Mistress."

"Take off your gown Mistress," Anelle said. "Quickly. Make haste lady. Just pull the gown down off your shoulders then step out of it."

"I have a feeling I'm going to need my crop," Mary said, picking her crop off the table.

Newly motivated, Antoinette quickly shrugged off her gown, then began to fumble at the ties of her tight corset.

"Leave the corset Mistress," Anelle said. "Now down onto your knees..."

Antoinette quickly followed instructions from the former handmaid. Going down to her knees. Spreading her slim thighs. Reaching behind her back and grasping the opposite elbow. Finally, shifting her hips forward, until her pelvis was indecently thrust forward. It was almost as if she were making herself as vulnerable as possible for the Princess.

"Let's see if Hilda done a sufficient job of removing your womanhood," Mary said, kneeling down in front of her handmaid and running her hand along the woman's smooth sex. It wasn't just smooth as a baby's bottom, it was also inflamed from the hot wax, and quite quite wet.

Antoinette couldn't stop the gasp that came from deep in her throat. Neither could she control the shivering in her limbs. Nor the shallow thrusts of her pelvis.

"Juicy as a peach, and what a plump little quim for someone so petite." Mary said, taking the collar and bringing it to Antoinette's long slim neck. "Anal, tell my new handmaid what happens next."

"You will be collared Mistress," Anelle said. "And then you will take your new name."

"She's not a Mistress anymore Anal," Mary said. "Nor a lady judging by the ripeness of her peach. A whore is more like it."

"I'm a free woman Mistress," Antoinette stammered, too afraid to move out of her vulnerable position. "You can't just collar me as if I were a slave. I have rights."

"You mean I can't do this?" Mary said as she slid the collar in place and locked it. "You should take your complaint before the magistrate....oh I know, or even the King."

It was then that Antoinette understood just how lost she was. The regular rules didn't apply here. Not in the presence of royalty.

"Now let's see about a name for my new handmaid," Mary scratched her chin as she pondered, muttering a few suggestions. "Slut...no...already used anal. Whore...nah...small breasts...nippynips...no....oh I have it. I shall call you Queem. It's almost a royal sounding name isn't it. Don't you approve? Say hello to Queem, Anal."

"Hello Queem." Anelle said.

"You may go now," Mary told her former hand maid. "I'll take it from here."

Anelle left, leaving Antoinette feeling more alone than ever. Her life had been turned upside down. She was a slave now. Even if she ran away, the collar would mark her as property, the Princess's property, even though by all laws she was a free woman. Yet, her status was even less than a slave. She was part slave - and part Princess's whore. Worse, the Princess kept up her ministrations. Rubbing her. Stroking her. Pinching her. Driving her to distraction. Making her body react. Grow warm and tingly. To crave release.

"Queem," Mary said. "The Queem of France as my own personal toy. My lowest of the low. Only my father has a Queen, but she's nearly his same rank. But not you my juicy little Quim. Quim - Quim, how do you like your name little Quim."

Oh God! With realization dawning on the poor handmaid with renewed horror. Her name. It sounded French at first. Almost lovely. But now, a small change in the vowel and ....dear God, she was named after a female body part. She remembered poor Anelle. Sure a few called her by her name, but most copied the Princess's poor example. Making snide comments behind her back. Now, she was to shared the very same plight.

"Why have you done this to me Mistress?" Antoinette plead. "Dear Lord, you rode me around like a horse. You whipped me. You even violated my....my arse. Wasn't that enough for you?"

"You put yourself in this very position my juicy little Quim," Mary said. "You asked the Queen to relieve you of your duties. Only I was two steps ahead of you, wasn't I? Well, I have to admit that I liked you as my tutor. The only problem with that was that everyone treated you almost like a Princess. As my tutor you almost nobility. But now? Now you are a long ways off aren't you? Now the fun really begins..."

Mary stood up and walked around her kneeling maid. Using her crop to occasionally adjust the girl's position.

"Don't feel too bad. You may be a slave now, but you are my slave. As such, no one is permitted to touch your flesh, unless they are wearing gloves. Likewise, you may touch no one without gloves. Of course, this rule does not apply to me. " Meanwhile Mary was tugging down her lingerie from beneath her gown. "Now it's time for you to serve the royal cunt."

Mary removed a phallus with several straps from her drawer. She ordered Queem to open her mouth and tried to stick one end of the smooth wood into her slaves mouth. Thankfully, Antoinette could not open her mouth wide enough to take it in. It was the best thing that had happened so far, because she knew where that phallus had been planted after watching poor Anelle use it on the Princess earlier that afternoon.

But Mary's eyes didn't register disappointment for long. She thought momentarily of letting her handmaid hold it in her hand. Yet that seemed a waste of it's original intent. Soon her eyes eturned to an hungry icy glare. Tossing the phallus to the bed, she took hold of Antionette's chin and tilted it up. "I have heard tell of the French," she said. "I have heard tell that they are not so Puritanical as the English. That they kiss one another...not just with lips...but with their tongues. I want to experience one of those French kisses."

The Princess bent down to kiss her handmaiden. Yet the kiss she had requested wasn't forthcoming. Only a chaste buss on each side of her mouth...as the French were prone to do in greeting. She reached down and tweaked a hard nipple drawing a gasp from her handmaiden. She quickly pressed her mouth against Antoinette's parted lips. Two more tweaks were necessary to keep the former Princess from drawing away or closing her mouth. Then she roamed her soft hands over handmaiden's slim body.

For her part, Antoinette was determined to withhold the kisses that had been requested. It was bad enough that she had been denuded and collared. Ridden like an animal. Her arse violated. To be named after a woman's sexual organ. All by this horrid spoiled Princess. And then there was the teasing. Not the lewd comments, but the physical teasing she had endured, but by Hilda and the Princess, that had left her in a constant state of hypersexual duress. Her loins tingled. Her nipples. Those two hard pebbles....how they ached. Her newly denuded sex felt every sensation as if it were magnified by two. The Princess's soft fingers teasing the engorged wet lips of her sex could not be ignored by Antoinette's body, no matter how much her mind detested the girl. Her hips moved of their own volition. Taking what pleasure they could obtain. And though no matter how much she strived not to, her tongue peaked out of her bow shaped mouth and sought the English Princess's.

Antoinette gave a low moan and surrendered to her body's needs. Her tongue danced with Mary's. Moving in and out her mouth languidly. Then fluttering lightly over the tip of the Princess's tongue. The painful tweaking of her nipples had ceased, only to be replaced by intimate caresses.

"The English are so Puritanical. And you French are so sensual. You have the right of kissing, that is certain." Mary moved her mouth away and then back again, only to move away at the last moment, leaving the formerly reluctant handmaid with her mouth seeking a kiss and her tongue extended from her pink lips. The depths of her surrender was soon evident as Mary kept a bit of distance between their lips, drawing out the former Princess's dextrous tongue, making her stick out out further and further. Where just moments ago, she had withheld even chaste kisses, and now she was eagerly giving promises of so much more. Making the confused and frustrated girl blush as her sweet kisses were made to become more and more lewd and sexual in nature. Mary looked at that dextrous French tongue with hunger. Since her new handmaiden could not wear the phallus, the girl was going to have to give pleasure another way. Mary was determined to have that French tongue in other places besides her mouth. She had high hopes for that eager tongue, and if those hopes weren't realized...well, she could let the girl hold the phallus with her hand. At least as long as it took to have a new one made.

"Oh Quim, your lips are soft as velvet....and that tongue, so eager, so dextrous..." Mary said as she stood up and took off the last of her underclothes. "I could feel those lips on mine and be kissed like that for hours and hours." Then the Princess rucked up her gown and threw it over the kneeling handmaiden, straddling the poor girl. "Kiss me again Quim. Kiss me as the French do."

Poor Antoinette soon found herself face to face, or rather face to sex, and a rather aroused sex it was too. The odor of sex, the musk that hung like a fog on a fall morning was heavy beneath the woolen gowns. The sex was plump and ripe. It was protected by dark womanly hair and the former Princess couldn't help but feel a bit inferior...especially in her position kneeling there under the skirts.

"My lips are eager for your kisses Quim," the Princess said, her voice thick with need. "I want to feel that eager tongue exploring me."

Antoinette was in quite a predicament. She had heard of giving men pleasure with her mouth and tongue. She had heard her maids blush and whisper of such matters. It was done to keep from becoming pregnant, and the men were quite satisfied by the arrangement. The Princess had blushed quite readily as she spied the young maid demonstrate the skills on a rolled pastry, bobbing her head up and down and manipulating her hand at the bottom. It was quite scandalous and had left the young Princess feeing more than a little tingly.

But this suggestion. To please a woman with her mouth... Was such even done? It was a sin..surely. And how would it even be managed? It was one thing to think of doing such to relieve a man's passion. A woman did things for men. But a woman? It was unthinkable.

"I think your tongue needs some convincing...." Mary said, moving her leg off of Antoinette's shoulder. "I shall have the guards transport you to the dungeon."

"Wait Mistress." Antoinette's muffled voice came from beneath the Princess's volumous gown. "I don't know what it is you expect of me."

A sly smile crossed Mary's lips. She put her thigh back over Antoinette's shoulder. "A kiss Quim. Merely a kiss. On my lips. The French way. Just as you did before. You were so very good at it, I want to be kissed again."

Poor Antoinette didn't want to pay a visit to the dungeon again. She remembered how the crop had kissed every square inch of her body. How it made her jerk and squeal. How it broke her resistance and made her submit to whatever her cruel captor desired. The crop's kisses weren't kisses of pleasure either. Not French kisses, but hard English kisses that left red and purples welts. The crop would make her do whatever the Princess wished anyway. It was best just to submit. She closed her eyes. It was so hot and stifling beneath layers of wool. Just a kiss. Merely a kiss. Just as she had done before. She puckered her lips and leaned close. Curly hair tickled her nose. Her pink lips touched the Princess's own.

Mary felt beneath her gown and pushed her handmaiden in tightly. "The French way Quim. The kisses of the French...." she urged.

The French way. With open mouths and searching tongues. But this was not mouth she was kissing, not in the traditional sense, but in a perverse way it was a mouth, and it did have lips. Antoinette stuck out her tongue. Pressed it into slick wet lips. Eyes held tightly closed, she tried to pretend else wise, tried to imagine kissing one of the young French dukes. A mustache and a beard tickling her nose. Kissing him beneath a blanket. Oh how she tried to imagine, but it was impossible. Not with the Princess telling her to lick her hot Quim. To suck her clit. To flutter her tongue like a butterfly. To eat her cunt. To taste her nectar. The taste, oh the taste was not like any young noble she had ever snuck a kiss from. And that most pungent and distinctive of female smells, was not like any young noble either. A noble would never leave her face soiled. The Princess's musky juices running down her chin. Her hairy box grinding into her lips and nose. A stray pubic hair on the back of her tongue, threatening to choke her. The Princess humping. Thrusting. Calling her a French whore. A slut. The devil's own tongue.

The Princess moaned. Cried out in passion. Her doubts about trading in her former handmaid for this petite French Princess who couldn't even open her mouth enough to accept the phallus, had been driving from her mind by the climax wracking through her loins like hounds through the brush on a fox hunt. She couldn't even remain standing, such was the force of the explosion running through her body. Toppling over her handmaid, she mounted the prone girl, enjoying the captive lips and tongue as they were meant to be. Enjoyed at Mary's whim.

The hapless handmaid did her best to continue. It was so hot trapped there beneath the layers of wool. So hard to breathe. The Princess had mounted her, held the handmaid's arms trapped beneath her knees. Such a heavy girl. So unlike a refined French Princess. More like an English serving girl. Her thick thighs and wide hips taking any thought of rebellion from the poor handmaid's mind. Sometimes sitting on her face till the poor maid felt she would surely asphyxiate. Other times, raising up, forcing the handmaid to bend her neck at an unnatural angle to continue pleasuring her cruel Mistress. To run her tongue along her swollen labia. To flutter it on her engorged clit.

The Princess cried out in passion, riding her handmaid's face as if she were a pony. Hot sparks of pleasure spreading light lightening from her loins as her orgasm hit. Taking her pleasure as she saw fit, until her climax finally dissipated and left her sated. At last, she rolled off her handmaid. She laughed at the poor girl's state.

She had made a mess of Anelle, her last handmaid, more times that she could count. Had left her with juices and spittle from the dildo, running down those full breasts and lean flat stomach. Had coated that dimpled chin and those almond colored cheeks with sweet honey. Yet, this climax had gone for much longer. This one had left the former Princess's face a mess, with her black mascara running down her cheeks like black trails of tears. Only her cheeks near her ears had been left with the white powder that was so fashionable at the moment. Everywhere else, her chin, her nose, her forehead, had been drenched. Soaked. Even her hair was plastered to her head in wet curls. The girl lay on the floor passively, breathing hard to catch her breath. Her arms still held where Mary had held them down. Her legs at odd angles, displaying a very wet and aroused sex. All Mary could think, as she traversed the room on shaky legs before falling down into a soft couch, was, wow, that was a good one.

With laughing eyes, Mary said, "You made quite a mess of me Quim. Now come here and freshen the royal cunt."

Antoinette was soon instructed on what would be involved after her sexual interludes with the Princess. After all, an English Princess couldn't very well go around smelling like a French whore. So with fresh water from the wash basin and a clean cloth, Antoinette bathed the Princess's most intimate area. In her country it was called a whore's bath, yet, having to kneel there between languid outstretched thighs, bathing the Princess, even while her own face and hair remained soiled by the Princess's exuberant secretions, Antoinette was the one that felt like a whore.