Chapter 2 (of 2) - The Spider
(Marie, The Unlucky Housemaid by Jessica Verdi)
The coachman was the first to arrive in Isabella's room. He squeezed
past Lady Smethrington standing in the doorframe, having just one thing in his
mind. His large fist connected smartly with the side of Marie's head. She
slumped to the floor, laid out cold.
"Take that wretched girl out of my sight!" Lady Smethrington called out
to the coachman whilst holding her tearful daughter to her breast. Her loving
gesture was as much to do with shielding Isabella's naked breasts from wide-eyed
staff than comforting her daughter.
"I'll take her down to the stable and put her in the spider, ma'am." The
coachman said, gripping Marie under her armpits and dragging her corpse-like
body from the room. "Clear a path everybody, and return to your rooms. There's
nothing more to see."
Isabella found herself alone in the room with her fearsome mother. She
was standing, still handcuffed to her bedpost, tearful and trembling. As soon as
the door was closed her mother's mood changed, as it so often did.
"I've a mind to leave you chained up like that tonight to teach you a
lesson." Her mother scolded. "A well-bred young lady should know how to handle
her servants. It is quite clear that you, young lady, do not."
Lady Smethrington started stripping her sobbing daughter of her
remaining undergarments until the girl stood in only stockings, chastity belt
and corset. She lifted a key chain from around her own neck, the keys having
been kept warm between her breasts. From around a dozen small keys she located
the one for the chastity belt.
"Now Isabella, I shall release you from the chastity belt for your
nightly inspection. Then I must go see what Albert is doing with that frightful
maid."
The built-in lock at the front of the chastity belt sprung open upon the
insertion of the key. Lady Smethrington eased it away from her daughter's virgin
loins. The key to the handcuffs fell conspicuously onto the rug. Isabella
swallowed hard knowing she was in serious trouble.
At that moment Lady Smethrington was more concerned with the dampness
around her daughter's labia. She ran her finger slowly over Isabella's warm sex
and then licked her finger in order to ascertain the source of her daughter's
effluence.
"Ma-ma, it wasn't my fault," Isabella pleaded through tear-filled eyes.
"It was Marie, the maid. She forced me."
Her mother slapped her viciously across the face, sending Isabella
crashing onto the bed.
-oOo-
It took four men to strip Marie down to her white cotton chemise, or
perhaps it was just that four men were eager to assist with that task. Their
hands gripped her arms tight enough to bruise as they prepared her the spider.
Marie shook with terror.
They led her to a blanket spread out on the cobbled stone floor of the
stable. She was pushed down on the blanket and told to lay flat. The heavy
wrought iron frame they called 'the spider' was placed across her back. It was
so-called because of the iron spokes spreading out from a central body. There
were actually six of them, but 'Spider' sounded more intimidating than 'Insect'.
The collar at the end of one spider's leg was clamped around Marie's neck. A
heavy padlock kept it in place and obliged her to face forward instead of
downward, as her position would have preferred. Her wrists were next to be
fitted into the heavy iron shackles at the end of two sideways facing legs. It
left each of her slim wrists suspended slightly in the air behind her back, held
their normal distance apart.
Marie's ankles received the same treatment after first being bent back
so that her feet were pointing upwards. Each limb was locked into the spider
with the same heavy padlocks as they had used on her neck.
The spider had one more attachment to subdue and torment of its victim -
a large iron hook dangling from the middle of the frame. One of the men hand
pulled up Marie's chemise to reveal her lightly striped buttocks. He smeared a
dollop of grease on her anus and without preamble forced the round-tipped hook
inside her.
Marie screamed and begged them to take it out, but it was pushed further
in until they fixed and locked it in position deep into her rectum.
Albert the coachman looked down at Marie's bruised, bloody and dirty
face with contempt. "I'll warrant you won't be able to cause any more mischief
you dirty little strumpet. You'll stay locked in the spider until Lord
Smethrington decides what do with you. I expect you'll be going back to that
hell-hole of a prison where you belong!"
Marie sobbed quietly, not daring to answer him for fear of what he might
do next. There was the sound of strong clicking and clanking chains. Marie felt
her limbs being lifted slightly as a chain crank lifted the spider an inch or
two, adding to her discomfort.
"Where's the key for Miss Isabella's shackles? Do you have it?" The
coachman demanded.
She shook her head and was about to explain that it was in Isabella's
chastity belt but he started pushing something into his mouth. It was a brank; a
head-shaped iron cage.
Also known as the scold's bridle, the brank's main purpose was to hold
an iron protrusion inside the wearer's mouth. Its secondary purpose was for
public humiliation. In the enlightened era of Marie's story, nagging women were
no longer paraded in public squares wearing this apparatus. Yet it remained a
useful tool for chastisement on private estates like the Smethrington's.
The coachman forced the brank's protruding spiked iron ball inside
Marie's mouth and closed the head-cage on her. Another heavy padlock was used to
keep it in place. Marie could feel the spikes digging into her tongue and soon
tasted her own blood. She could feel the hook stretching her anus. How long, she
wondered, before that too would be dripping blood.
"Keep yer hands of 'er!" Albert warned the lusty stable lads as he
headed back to the house.
-oOo-
The coachman could hear Isabella's screaming and crying as he walked up
the grand staircase of Smethrington Manor. He'd heard those screams many times
over the last 20 years. She was in the midst of receiving a robust spanking from
her mother. Her being handcuffed to the bedpost had proved no obstacle to her
mother's formidable right hand. The deep red colouring of Isabella's buttocks
gave testament to her Lady Smethrington's ability in matters of juvenile
discipline.
The coachman bowed slightly as he entered Isabella's room. "Ma'am, the
maid didn't have the key with her, but I can remove the shackles with tools
whenever you wish."
Lady Smethrington held the key aloft with a self-satisfied smile, while
Isabella sobbed her heart out with her face buried in the bedclothes. "I found
it in the little whore's chastity belt!" She turned to her daughter on the bed
and pulled her up by her hair until she was on her feet, facing the coachman.
Still handcuffed to the bedpost Isabella was unable to prevent Albert from
gazing upon her breasts and sweet untainted mound. He licked his lips. Isabella
looked away in shame. She knew that every servant in the Manor would soon hear
of her latest beating.
"What do you think Albert? Do you think she'd make a good whore? I
understand the upper-class prostitutes always do very well for themselves."
"I don't rightly know ma'am. You see; I don't tend to frequent such
places or people."
"And well you shouldn't Albert, for one never knows what filthy diseases
one might catch from such a dirty whores. I fear Isabella will never make a
lady, so that vocation might be all that is left to her if she doesn't mend her
ways!"
"Yes ma'am" Albert agreed, as he always did. "Will there be anything
else tonight ma'am?"
"No Albert, thank you. Tomorrow, would you arrange for the maid to be
returned to prison as soon as possible."
"Yes ma'am. Good night ma'am." He reversed himself out of the room with
an extended bow and one more furtive but satisfying glance at Isabella's
glorious teenage body.
Lady Smethrington replaced the chastity belt on her daughter and finally
unlocked the cuffs from her red-raw wrists. The mother's mood had changed to one
of tenderness as she put her tearful daughter to bed, softly stroking Isabella's
brow and declaring how much she loved her.
-oOo-
The stable lads gradually tired of watching Marie once they saw how
little were her struggles against the cast-iron grip of the spider. With the
hook and the spiked ball cruelly subduing her Marie was not inclined to provide
the entertainment the stable lads hoped for.
Marie spent the night in darkness, the first few hours wide awake, her
mind was as tormented as her body as if too was pierced with iron spikes.
Thinking of Isabella's betrayal, she felt more bewildered than hateful. She
constantly recalled that moment when she kissed Isabella on the lips, almost
tasting it again,
-oOo-
Bright sunlight flooded the stable as somebody pulled open the large
stable door. Marie squinted as she faced directly into the sun's first rays. In
a half-awake state, she watched and listened as the stable came to life. Horses'
hooves passed within a few feet of her nose, so close she feared being trampled
upon.
For those who hadn't seen her last night, Marie was a curiosity. The
iron spider was a punishment usually reserved for male employees of the estate.
They were intrigued by the sight of delicate pale-skinned limbs of a housemaid
within its brutal grip.
A stableman came to unlock Marie from the spider's embrace. First to be
removed was the iron hook in her rectum. He noticed there was just a little
blood on the metal, but that was to be expected. The collar, wrist and ankle
restraints were removed. Her limbs fell free but lifeless to the ground. The
cruel brank stayed in place.
He led Marie's unsteady and aching body to a bucket close by. Its
purpose was self-evident. He watched her from a few yards away as she emptied
her bowels. Although the hem of her dirty chemise was at mid thigh, revealing
her slim naked legs, Marie's grubby body did not appeal to this particular man.
Not even the prominent impressions of her nipples in the fabric of her chemise
could arouse his interest.
"The brank comes off for feeding once I put you back in the spider." He
explained as she sat forlornly on the bucket. How cruel, she thought, that she
could be rid of the brank only by yielding again to the brutal grip of the
spider.
She laid herself down on the blanket once more, submitting without a
fight as the stableman wrenched back her aching limbs and locked the iron around
them showing neither tenderness nor cruelty. Good to his word he unlocked the
brank from her head and pulled the spike-ball from Marie's bruised and bloodied
mouth.
Agnes, one of the scullery maids, arrived with a bowl of porridge,
patiently feeding Marie with a spoon and giving what comfort she could. She
tenderly wiped Marie's face and hair with a damp cloth, taking extra care with
the large bruise on the side of her face. Then the brank was fitted on Marie's
head once more.
Marie tried to take her mind off her plight by listening to the comings
and goings from the stable. Later that morning a familiar voice started
speaking. If Marie thought things couldn't get any worse she was about to
discover that they could.
"Take me to Barkerstall Hall right away, please." The voice was
unmistakably Isabella's.
"Yes, Miss Isabella. As you wish," replied the coachman.
Marie heard the elegant jingle of the Smethrington's landau moving from
the stables and out towards the main gate. Her rage had no outlet and the tears
flowed once more.
The hours went by and Marie felt like she'd been forgotten - even the
stable boys scarcely gave her a glance as they walked by. The sun's rays had
long since ceased to trouble her as it journeyed towards the other horizon. The
landau had returned to the stable, but without any sign of Isabella.
With the setting of the sun, the activity in the stables gradually
ceased. The horses were fed, groomed and settled for the night. The same
stableman that had released her in the morning returned. No doubt he'd already
had a hearty supper in his tied cottage. Marie was acquainted with his wife -
the prettiest milkmaid you ever did see. She knew that her own modest charms
would seem as nothing to this man.
His routine was the same - releasing Marie so she could sit on the
bucket then back to the spider before the brank was removed. Her tongue and
mouth were bruised and swollen. He pitied her but would do nothing that might
put his job in jeopardy, or might even make him the spider's next victim.
"The prison transport comes to collect you tomorrow afternoon," he
informed her.
"Good," she spluttered softly, her swollen mouth struggling to form even
the simplest word.
Agnes arrived with a bowl of warm broth, spooning it patiently into
Marie's mouth. She opened her mouth to receive the brank again. The stableman
double-checked the padlocks to ensure that Marie was secured then extinguished
the remaining lamps in the stable.
Later that night when all was eerily quiet on the stable block, a side
door creaked open. Two people were whispering in the darkness near Marie. One of
them was Agnes. Marie recognised her soft voice. The other was the cook, a
well-rounded woman in all senses. She adored Marie as if she were her own child,
always saying how pretty she was and giving her little gifts and treats from the
kitchen.
Two pairs of soft feminine hands reached out to Marie's body, caressing
her limbs and massaging her limbs. The cook then pushed a cotton rag into
Marie's mouth, stuffing it to capacity. Marie was worried why the kindly cook
would do such a thing, but then she sensed the fabric had a benevolent purpose
in protecting her mouth from the spiked ball.
The cook bent down and looked Marie in the eyes. "Marie, sweetie. I
thought it best to gag you because if you make a noise I might be the next one
laying where you are. Do you remember when we talked about orgasms and you said
you'd never had one?"
"Um hmm."
"...And I said how good it would make you feel."
"Um hmm."
"Well, I want you to try to relax. Think of this as our farewell gift."
While the cook positioned herself behind Marie, Agnes took her place by
Marie's head. Marie gazed up helplessly at the scullery maid, not quite
comprehending what they planned to do with her. She was about to find out.
The cook's hands were on Marie's buttocks, noting with dismay the large
hook in her anus, which would seriously curtail her movement. It was bolted into
position. The cook's fingers burrowed between Marie's thighs and traced the lips
of her labia. She rubbed her warm hands against Marie's sex, with fingers
occasionally slipping between the creases.
"Come on, Agnes. Take hold of Marie's breasts like I showed you," the
cook called out to her assistant as if teaching her another new recipe.
"Squeezed them gently, nice and slow." Agnes did as instructed, her hands coming
between Marie's breasts and the blanket-covered ground.
With patience and determination the cook worked her fingers deeper and
deeper inside Marie's vagina as she began to moisten, encouraging Marie with
little words of affection until she yielded herself to the cook's touch. The
wadding in her mouth muffled Marie's frequent groans.
The cook's fingertips burrowed deep within Marie's vaginal walls
pressing with an expert touch getting more and more response the further she
went, until Marie developed a palpitating momentum of her own. Her needs took
over as she clenched her enforced V shaped thighs as if hoping to trap the
cook's fingers.
Marie's body tensed and tugged against her unyielding bonds. When she
was raped in prison she used to pray for it to stop; but whatever the cook was
doing she never wanted to stop - even though it was churning her up inside in a
way she had never known. Her heart was pounding with fear and excitement. She
felt surprisingly warm.
Her body seemed to tingle for a few moments then spasmed repeatedly. The
cook never let up her actions for an instant, those strong bread-kneading
fingers tireless in their efforts to take Marie all the way.
"One more time, sweetie." The cook cheerfully encouraged Marie and felt
the hot and pulsating vagina clenching on her hand once more. Marie was soon in
rapture again, the stuffing in her mouth barely able to suppress her ecstatic
moans.
Worried that they might be discovered, they swiftly cleaned Marie up,
removing the stuffing from her mouth and wiping dry her sex and sweaty buttocks
and spine.
The cook gave Marie a goodbye kiss on her buttocks. "Sleep well Marie."
The two women departed from the stable as stealthily as they had arrived. Marie
spent her second lonely night in the stable. This time she slept.
-oOo-
Releasing Marie for her statutory toilet break, the stableman informed
her that the prison transport would collect her in the afternoon. Marie was
glad. Despite the cook inducing her first-ever orgasm the night before, she was
desperate to escape the limb-wrenching clutches of the spider.
After Agnes had spoon-fed her with the usual bowl of porridge, Marie
steeled herself to endure the last few hours of the spider's torment. Prison
would be luxury by comparison with what she'd suffered.
"Take me to Barkerstall Manor." A haughty female voice requested of the
driver. It was the last voice Marie wanted to hear, saying the last thing she
wanted to hear. Isabella was heading to Lord Barkerstall's as she did yesterday.
Marie felt foolish for never guessing of the relationship between her mistress
and the man she adored. If the spider had allowed her to beat her head on the
ground she surely would have done. Instead she chewed on the spiked ball, her
mangled tongue and gums long since immune to the pain.
Marie tried to tell herself it didn't matter. She would soon be on her
way to prison and would never see either of them again.
Lunchtime for the employees came and went. For Marie, there would be no
lunch, only a period in the day when the general noise around her ceased. She
was half asleep when the bucket of chilly water was tipped over her.
"Release the girl!" Lord Smethrington commanded of his stablemen. They
obeyed and Marie was soon standing up unsteadily, free of all bonds except the
grip of a stableman on each arm. She was shivering with cold whilst at the same
time trembling with fear at Smethrington's threatening manner. Despite her dirty
skin and clothing, and her bruised and swollen face, she only aroused contempt
in him. She was, after all the one who had molested his sweet innocent daughter.
"I'm sure you recognise these," He held up Isabella's infamous
handcuffs, then tossed them to a stableman. "Put them on her, good and tight."
The stableman obeyed his employer, clicking the closed as far as they
would go. Marie felt the metal digging painfully into already chafed wrists.
Lord Smethrington held up the handcuff key, which was threaded on a long
length of string. If only Isabella had done that, Marie thought regretfully.
Smethrington placed it over her head like a crude necklace. He tucked it into
her chemise, indifferent as his hands brushed against her small breasts. Marie
could feel the key, cool against her sternum. So close, yet out of reach.
"Leave us now!" Smethrington commanded the two stablemen. They nodded
and left the stable, closing the door behind them.
"Marie," Smethrington said sternly, while rolling up the sleeves of his
shirt, "I want to give you something to remember me by. Turn around and lean
forward onto the table."
Marie turned and saw the heavy timber table used for the leatherworking.
She leant forward onto its dented and splintering surfaced, having to stand on
tiptoes. Smethrington lifted the rear hem of her soiled chemise between finger
and thumb; with a look of utter disgust on his face.
"Hold this." He thrust the fabric into Marie's cuffed hands. She gripped
the bunched up material in her hands knowing it left her buttocks exposed for
her Master's pleasure.
Smethrington's chosen implement was a leather rein that hung
conveniently nearby. He lashed out with a merciless brutality across her
buttocks and the backs of her thighs. If anything, her crying and screaming
encouraged him further. The onslaught continued beyond anything Marie had ever
known.
Her punishment stopped only because of the lack of unmarked skin. It
left Smethrington in the mood for a final parting gift to his errant housemaid.
Marie could hear his crude grunting as he lowered his breeches and pushed his
fat body against her rear. She felt his erection pressing against her tenderised
skin.
"Don't want you to carry any son of mine!" Smethrington growled while
pushing two fingers into Marie's anus. Having that large hook in her sphincter
for the best part of two days had left if weakened to invasion. He rammed his
penis fully home into Marie's rear, painfully stretching her with his thick
member. He bumped her repeatedly against the rough wooden table until grunting
his way to a climax. With slow violent lunges he took great pleasure in
injecting his seed deep within her.
Whatever else one might say about Lord Smethrington, he prided himself
on his timekeeping. No sooner had he withdrawn from Marie's wretched body than
there was a knock on the stable door. The carriage had arrived to take her to
the woman's prison. He snatched the hem of Marie's garment from her hands in
order to wipe his penis with it. Then he led Marie out into the bright sunlight.
"Is this the one?" The prison escort asked. Even he, having worked for
the prison for several years, had seldom seen anything quite so appalling. "Any
possessions?"
"She's wearing them. The key is around her neck." Smethrington chuckled.
The prison escort approached Marie with a wet rag. She was expecting him
to wipe her face.
"Open up."
She did so, revealing her swollen and bloody tongue to him. He pushed
the rag in slowly, mindful of the girl's pain. Then he unrolled a white cotton
garment that Marie didn't recognise, but she saw it had laces like a corset. He
put it over her head so the laces were at the back of her head. It was a hood.
He tugged gentle on the laces gradually taking out the slack until the shape of
Marie's head had been restored.
Marie's world had turned white, only the bright sunlight penetrated the
hood. She was led over to the two-horse open cart. Already seated on the side
benches behind the driver were three other women, each was hooded like Marie,
although they were far better dressed than she. The escort helped her to step up
into the cart. She found herself seated on the bench touching shoulders. The
back of her ankles were pushed into wooden cutouts at the base of the bench that
appeared designed for that purpose, then the escort fitted its equivalent shape
on the front of her ankles. It slotted into place leaving Marie's ankles
immovable on the floor of the cart.
The cart jogged into motion. Marie sobbed. She hadn't a chance to say
goodbye to anybody. She was glad of the hood. It hid her tears and her shame as
the cart slowly made its way to the women's prison.
The ultimate indignity was that Lord Smethrington's semen was implanted
deep within her bowels; she could still feel its coldness running through her,
sending a chill her stomach. The thought of it was making her feel sick and
there was nothing she could do about it.
The prison, with all its brutality and squalor would be a welcome
relief.
-oOo-
Half an hour down the road the cart seemed to change direction. The
distinctive crunching gravel sound under the cartwheels had Marie's heart
pounding. She feared they had arrived back at Smethrington Manor.
They came to a halt in front of a large mansion where several people
were waiting. An elegant middle-aged woman was accompanied by a younger woman.
It was the lady of the manor with her daughter-in-law. The gentile group looked
in horror at the four hooded and bound women.
The prison escort leapt down from his seat and politely addressed the
elder lady. "Good afternoon Ma'am. I was told you have six guineas for me."
"That's correct. Bring the girl here." She handed him a brown envelope.
Moving to the back of the cart, he opened the low gate, reaching in to
release Marie's ankles from their wooden stocks. He lifted her down by the
waist, as one would a child, and helped her walk towards the women.
"I don't know what you want with a girl like this. They say she's
dangerous." The prison escort felt obliged to warn the lady. "I'm sorry she's
dirty and smelly but that was not my doing."
He unlaced Marie's cotton hood, lifting it clear of her unkempt red
hair, then pulled the rag from her mouth. Marie looked dazed by her
surroundings. It certainly wasn't Smethrington Manor.
"Hello Marie. I'm Lady Barkerstall." The elder woman said softly. "We
would like to offer you a position as one of our staff. My son tells me you are
competent at table service. I do hope you'll stay with us."
Marie was bewildered. Did the woman really say Barkerstall? "I - I don't
understand, Ma'am."
The woman laughed. "I'm not sure I do either! Perhaps Isabella will
explain it to you." She looked over to one side where Isabella stood nervously
at a respectable distance. Tears were streaming down Isabella's red cheeks as
she strode towards Marie.
"I'm sorry Marie. I'm so sorry," she blubbed, placing her arms around
her former maid. "It was all my fault. I remembered how you were soft on Lord
Barkerstall so I came here to see if they would help you."
Marie was still in her handcuffs, and unable to return the embrace. She
was almost glad of it, in case she should land in further trouble.
Isabella spotted the key on the string around Marie's neck. "Oh, dearest
Marie, If I had only taken as much care with the key this would never have
happened." She unlocked the cuffs from Marie's bruised wrists and threw them
angrily to the ground.
Marie looked at her and the Barkerstall ladies, then saw that Lord
Barkerstall was walking towards them. She smiled broadly at Isabella, even
though it caused her pain to do so. "Miss Isabella, don't you see? I'm glad it
happened. I really am!"
Later that evening, after having her wounds treated, Marie was soaking
in a hot bath. They said she would need at least a week's rest to recover from
her injuries before starting her job with the Barkerstalls. She couldn't wait!
It was the day the Marie's luck finally changed.
THE END
