A Handmaid's Tail

With her thighs spread wide, leaning back in a languid pose that only comes to the loose limbed after orgasm, Mary looked down at her new handmaid working diligently to freshen her cunt. "I can't believe I traded a good English handmaid for such a hopeless French girl," she lied. "But you were passable. Anal used to give me such pleasure, it was worthy of the Gods. The French, sure they can kiss, but I think that may be all they are good for."

Mary was lying of course. Antoinette had given her pleasure such as she had never seen the like of. It had robbed her of her strength. The best part was knowing this handmaid, this slave, was once a French Princess. What's more, she knew she wouldn't give the girl the pleasure of knowing she had given her the best climax of her life.

"Now blow my pussy dry," Mary said. "Gentle breaths. I don't want to catch cold."

After the Princess's sex was sufficiently blown dry, Antoinette was required to use a small comb to style Mary's hair. Not the hair on her head, but the curly down between her legs. Finally a few drops of French perfume. Only then was she permitted to see to her own cleaning, yet still she wasn't allowed to dress. Instead the Princess ordered her new handmaid to stand in front of her with her back facing the Princess. Then she was ordered to lean forward as far as she was able.

"Now reach your hands back," Mary ordered. "One on each cheek and pull them apart for me. Show me that tight little hole the French love so much."

It seemed to Antoinette that hole was a favorite of the English, since it had acquired the most use since she had been trapped at the castle. In her whole life at her French castle, it had never been touched until now. Yet, she knew she should be thankful her virginity was still intact. If she managed to escape, she could marry and lead a normal life. She tried to think of a normal life as she reached back and spread her cheek obediently. It was so embarrassing to display herself thus. So humiliating showing parts of her body that should remain hidden.

Mary smiled wickedly as she took the feather duster and inserted it neatly in her handmaiden's tight arsehole. It took a bit of work, but not as much as before. She didn't even have to spit on the tight hole but once before the wooden handle was firmly planted.

Once again Antoinette's body had betrayed her, had caused her to move her hips back and forth, working herself on the ridged wood handle, that Mary worked with short strokes. She was brought to my a swat on her backside.

"Naughty maid," Mary said. "Always with your mind in the gutter. This isn't meant for your enjoyment. Now that you are a maid, what is it that maids do with their dusters?"

A blush crept to Antoinette's cheeks. Her knees shook with humiliation. "They dust Mistress."

"So get busy," Mary sneered. "Or should I use the crop to encourage your lazy arse?"

"No Mistress," Antoinette gasped. She hopped to work, but found it wasn't easy as she first imagined. The main problem was the location and angle of the duster. It was facing down. The only way she could bring it up was to bend her torso down. Then to move it back and forth, she had to swing her hips or push them back and forth. Which was all the more difficult when leaning forward as she was.

"Faster...you lazy twit...hah...or should I say twat," Mary said. With a loud crack, she left a mark on the French girl's alabaster bottom with her leather crop. "Now clean that figurine."

The poor handmaiden trotted across the room and proceeded to dust it. She could tell that the handle up her arse was changing the way she walked. Making her hips swing wider. Worse, when she bent forward, shaking her ass from side to side and back and forth, she could feel the handle shift inside her. God, it was causing her pleasure. The Princess smiled at her handmaid's duress. She made the poor girl work. Made her hustle. Made her shake that slim ass until sweat coated the girl's back and stomach. Until moisture flowed down her thighs as she responded to the handle shoved so unceremoniously up her well-bred bottom. Made the girl gasp and moan as she was made to climb atop the desk and dust the items below her. It was a fun game for the princess...if not for the handmaid. A pity she had never played it with her last maid. Putting her new handmaid through her paces was making the Princess feel randy again. She soon forgot about the dusting and put the girl beneath her skirt again until she was sated.

In the passing weeks, the Princess always seemed to complain about the quality of Antoinette's sexual performance. Threatened to beat her for being a lazy slut. But, for someone who didn't like it, she always seemed to crave it, at least that was what the handmaid was coming to think.

The hapless handmaid had even begged to wear the phallus that Anelle had worn. Had pleaded to borrow it, so that she could practice, maybe then she would learn to stretch her jaws to accommodate its girth. And when Mary refused and called her small French jaws useless. With trembling chin and welling tears, Antoinette had begged the Princess to fashion a new one. Smaller on one end. Suitable for a French girl. Perhaps she would be allowed to whittle it down herself?

"You would be useless anyway. Anelle was ever so skilled." Mary sneered. "Besides, all the French are good for is their tongues. Such dexterity. Must be from the way the made R's when they speak. Further training is all the was required. With practice you will be almost as good as Anelle."

Practice. Pleasuring another woman with her mouth and tongue. What Mary called practice; Antoinette thought of it as depravity.

Mary thought of it as sheer bliss. Anelle had been a pleasure, but she could hardly remember the girl now. It wasn't long ago that Anelle's - Anne's mother had come to the castle to find employ for her daughter. The girl was beautiful. Truly stunning. Of course the Queen and the other royal ladies would have none of the girl. Who in their right mind puts such temptation in front of her husband? Of course Anne's mother had hoped for just such an occurrence, and was extremely disappointed at the reception of her daughter. It was only when Mary, the King's own daughter had thrown a fit, even over her own mother's objection, that Anne had been hired.

Anne's mother's joy soon faded. Why hadn't her daughter landed a young Nobel? Even an old one for that matter? Wasn't she the most beautiful girl in the kingdom? She was even more disappointed when she later returned to visit her daughter, to explain what to do to land a man. To acquire a fortune to help her poor mother out. Only to find her daughter wearing a slave collar. Of people laughing at her behind her back. Calling her Anal. Then one night she witnessed what was going on between her daughter and the Princess. The next morning she left the castle never to return again. Knowing very well that it had been her own greed that had led her daughter to this plight.

Mary on the other hand, possessed the prettiest girl in the country. Owned her body and soul. It was thrilling seeing both noble Lord and Lady alike in envy of her handmaid, knowing they couldn't so much as touch her. Yet now, Mary realized how shortsighted she had been. Those big tits and that spankable ass...so perfect for providing cushion for male suitor or sucking for a baby. However, they did nothing for hastening a climax. More importantly, they took up a lot of room. Her new maid, her French Princess, with her fine features and her slim and limber body, could do things that Anne never could. She found that she could hide the sexy Antoinette beneath her petticoats and no one was the wiser. It became a kind of game to her. She looked for new places to enjoy her handmaid's oral pleasures. In the tea room. In the garden. At dinner. All that was required was for her to take a small book to read and then have a seat. Quickly looking about, she would make sure that the coast was clear. Then she would raise her volumous skirts.

"Quicky," Mary told her French handmaid. "Hide."

Antoinette's blue eyes went wide. A blush crept to her pale cheeks. With a docile, "Yes, Mistress," down she went, quickly scampering beneath the upraised skirts. Then they were quickly lowered behind her.

"Hurry," Mary said. "Someone is coming. Get your feet beneath my gowns."

The helpless handmaiden, folded her slim body up. Huddling between the Princess's spread thighs. Resting her chin on the seat. Her lips only inches from Mary's wet cunt.

"Is that a good book Princess?" A young noblewoman asked as she passed, keeping the sun off her face with a dainty umbrella.

"It's a little boring right now," Mary said. "However, the lady of the house is getting ready to whip her maid for laziness."

Antoinette took the hint. Sticking out her tongue, she began to slide it up and down Mary's wet slit. Doing it as quietly as possible. This new game of the Princess's terrified her. At least the times before they had been in private areas where no one came in, but this was a well-traveled part of the garden. Keeping her body as still as possible, she circled the Princess's clit, trying to coax the pearl from its clam.

"As I said, it's just now getting good. So, I must get back to my reading," Mary said. "Perhaps I will see you later."

So it went. It became very hot underneath the Princess's gown. Antoinette's poor back ached from her hunched position, but she dare not move. It wouldn't be the Princess that was punished if her activities were discovered. She would be the one to pay the price, and she was rather attached to her head. So she licked. And sucked. And teased. It felt like she was under there for hours. And in truth she was. The Princess wasn't fully able to enjoy her handmaid's tongue. People kept walking by. Worse, they seemed to pick the very moment she was close to orgasm to do so. She grew more and more frustrated as she had to tap the trapped girl on the head and tell her "Easy Quim. Someone approaches." and then when the passerby left, she would tap her again, and tell her to hurry and get on with it.

So frustrating as she was taken to the brink of orgasm time and time again. To look over the waterfall and see the crashing rocks down below, only to be tugged reluctantly back to the shore before she rolled over the crest. God, how she wanted it. It was torture. It never occurred to her that this was what poor Queem experience day after day. To be touched. To be teased. To be made to squirm and moan, only to be denied the final experience. It made for a good maid, was all that Mary knew. Which was true, Antoinette had grown eager to please. She hoped. She prayed. And she even prayed hard. Prayed that if she pleasure Mary just one more time, that if she did it as well as Anelle had, that she too would be granted that sweet release.

However, Mary had learned a lesson with her first horse. Had learned that you could give it a sugar cube and it would be thankful...but only until the cube was gone. But if you let it see the cube, if you let it smell it. To taste just a bit. Such a horse would run like the wind for you. Such a horse didn't just think of you as the person who gave sugar cubes, but as a diety. Someone to be worshipped. And if the handmaid underneath her skirts wasn't worshipping her, she didn't know the meaning of the word.

Mary grew more and more short with the pedestrians that passed by, interrupting her from enjoying her 'book'. It grew more and more difficult to maintain this pretense. The tongue flicking her clit, swirling along her slit, was driving her to distraction. Luckily her large gown was still doing a fair job of maintaining her modesty despite the fact she was sitting with her legs spread in a most unladylike manner. Her large bosom was flushed and beginning to heave. It took all the self-discipline she had not to push her maid down and ride her face.

But if things were going badly for Mary, they were going so much worse for her poor handmaid. Quim was trapped beneath all the hot layers of wool. She was burning up. It was hard to breath in the dark confines of her woolen prison. Covered in sweat. her back ached. Her calves burned. Her tongue was sore. And her lips felt bruised. Yet, still she managed to keep going...to lick - to suck. Yet, every time the Princess's hips began to buck, when she knew it wouldn't be long, someone would show up and she would be tapped on the head in warning. Then she would be required to begin again. To start anew. Eventually, she managed it, flicking her tongue on her Mistress's clit until her hips began to buck. It was all Antoinette could to to capture the volume of sticky nectar the flowed from the Princess's pink maw. Afterwards, her licks grew gentle and soothing as the Princess came down from her orgasm.

When the handmaid finally emerged from beneath the Princess's gown, she was much the worse for wear. Hair damp and a mess. Her gown soaked through with sweat. She reaked of musk.

It was these extra duties, the beneath the skirt interludes that made the Princess decide to alter her handmaiden's attire. She went to the dress maker and ordered several requests. First, a bonet was created to hold the handmaiden's hair out of the way, yet was small so as to take up less room beneath the Princess's gown. Antoinette's dress was made much smaller. Smaller than any lady would wear or servant, even smaller than the skirts for small children. The skirt was also black, so as to hide how wet it could get when it had soaked through with sweat.

The skirt created such a sensation that the Princess was called before the Queen over the matter.

"I had heard rumors," the Queen said. "But I had to see it for myself. Turn around girl. Let me see the whole thing."

Blushing, Antoinette did a pirouette, then a deep curtsey. She was embarrassed and humiliated, but she was glad to be called before the Queen. Someone had to keep the Princess in line, and this had gone to far. She wore less clothes than even a courtesan would wear. The stares the men gave her were hungry. Women looked at her with such venomous glances, they terrified her just as much as the men.

"But mother," Mary whined. "It's what all the French handmaids are wearing. Besides, the jester wears almost the very same thing."

"Dear," the Queen said. "the jester is a man. Women don't go about in stockings. It's indecent."

Antionette kept silent, but she was dying to tell the Queen more details of her garb. The jester's stockings were sewn unto his bottoms. However, Mary had been quite inventive. Antoinette's stockings were held up by small cords that attached to her corset. Anyone reaching beneath her skirt would find a smooth sex with no protection at all. Then there was the matter of her shoes.

"And those shoes..." the Queen said. "What exactly are those shoes she's wearing?"

"I call them heels Mother," Mary said. "Aren't they splendid? I must admit that I was inspired by the King's fool. See the bells? But, the Fool's toes are all pointed up, so I thought, why not the heel? So I made them taller. She's a small girl like most of the French. It makes her a bit taller and able to fit in among the English. It also makes her gait a bit more refined."

It wasn't only the heels that made her gait more refined. Poor Antoinette was now conscious of her every movement, lest someone see what lay beneath her short skirt.

"Be that as it may," the Queen said. "There is something about them that seems....improper."

If only she knew her daughter's real reason, thought Antoinette. The heels were designed to lift her bottom, so that her tail would be held in a proud manner. If only the Queen could see the other items the Princess made her wear in the Princess's private chambers. The tail, the bridle, reins, and bells. It was absolutely horrifying.

"But mummy," Mary whined. "The heels are now all the rage. The cobbler can't keep up with demand. Please...."

This much was true. Though they were kept hidden beneath gowns, the ladies of the court had 'grown' one or two inches in the last few weeks.

"Alright, but just keep her away from the clergy," the Queen said. "Or you will be minus a maid."

"Thank you mummy," Mary said. "Come Queem, let's go."

"And whatever possessed you to choose that name?" the Queen said. "Do you know what people call her? The Princess's Quim. I was mortified for her...." To Antoinette: "Dear Lord girl, to think I employed you once as a tutor. Even the other handmaids look down upon you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry highness," Antoinette said. Her cheeks burned. She could feel tears well in her eyes.

"You know I don't listen to what people whisper mother," Mary interrupted. "But I hear that Queem here was responsible for that little rumor."

"What do you mean?" the Queen asked.

"Well...the Housekeeper told me that she caught my handmaid doing something very wicked. I can only guess that others have seen her as well..." Mary said. Not really a lie, because Hilda had told her of the very transgression.

"What were you doing girl?" the Queen turned a steely glare on Antoinette that made the poor handmaid want to disappear. What was the Princess doing? Didn't she know that the Queen could punish her harshly for such a remark.

"I was - I was -" Antoinette stammered trying to think of an explanation.

"She was caught in the linen closet..."

"With who?" the Queen asked. "What were you doing girl? Was it the Retainer again? The rumors I hear about the man make me shiver...but I hear the French women are quite the little whores...."

"It wasn't the Retainer mother," Mary said. "But I had given her chores, yet she was found naked, all spread open, and rubbing herself...moaning. Doing who knows what to herself. The horrid little creature."

"A pervert. I would almost like to have her do it again. To make her do it in front of me whilst receiving a good cropping. That would be a suitable punishment..."

Antoinette shivered as the Queen's stare turned hungry. Were all the English perverts? Even the Queen?

'I've already punished her mummy," Mary said. "But still she persists. I wonder if you would call the Crone?"

Antoinette couldn't believe this turn of events. It was true that Hilda had caught her being improper, but there was good reason. The evil woman had teased her for hours. Had made her body turn to very malleable jelly in the woman's teasing glove covered hands. Till those soft leather gloves were soaked through and through. Till finally they had made her beg for orgasm. Had made her plead for it like a cat in heat. Had made her purr. Had made her, a Princess of royal birth, agree to to anything the wretched woman suggested...even lick her. To be her pet. Of course the woman knew better than disobey Mary, and had put Antoinette in the linen closet to fold sheets until she cooled down and then to put her clothes back on. But not to touch herself.

Of course Antoinette had disobeyed. She couldn't help herself. After two months without orgasm and constant teasing. She deserved it. She mauled her small breasts. Tweaked her hard nipples. Frigged her clit. Oh that sweet clit. It had taken serving one. Licking and sucking one to see just how much she loved that appendage. How much pleasure it could yield. Her fingers sped. She attacked it. Fast. Without mercy. Lest she be caught. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. She propped herself up on the counter. Spread herself without regard. Moans began to escape her lips. God, she was so close. She was determined not to be robbed.

Then Hilda opened the door, with two other maids in tow. Poor Antoinette was mortified. She was a Princess...and yet now these other girls would think her beneath the lowest of maids. A maid slut. A pervert. Worse, she didn't even have the downy protection of curls to protect herself like these other maids. And she knew that they noticed, judging by the smirks on their faces. Still she didn't stop. She had earned this. She deserved it so dearly. Her slim hips pumped. She kept at it with her dextrous fingers. Kept at it even though Hilda ordered her to desist. Threatened her with the strap. She only stopped when she was physically restrained.