Views: 405 Created: 2017.03.24 Updated: 2017.03.24

Arabella and the rod by stephen rawlings


By some hidden empathy the bevy of battered beauties reassembled in Georgie's rose perfumed suite at noon, though nothing had been said the night before. Many limped, all were sore in some degree, and poor Barbara appeared with purple bruises round her eyes where her rebellious bowels had deprived her of her sleep, yet all were in high humour. They bubbled with excitement over their personal triumphs over adversity, their delicious fears as they awaited their fates, their cruel lust as they seized the chance to slice a soft womanly buttock,

or drive a needle through tender intimate flesh.

The only absentee was Chloe, who they learned had presented herself promptly at ten to be relieved of her stitches and recover the use of her vagina. Georgina had taken pity on the poor inflamed lips and done her best to be gentle, but the thread had sunk so deep into the swollen flesh that she could not help causing her more sharp agony and draw more anguished mews before she could restore her the use of her sex.

"And did she really stay chaste all night, do you think?" asked Dorinda.

"Well so she swore," Georgie reported, "and I see no reason to disbelieve her. I know Chloe can be difficult sometimes, but I do not think her dishonest."

"Well, if she did stay chaste, she was probably alone." declared Lavinia. "I swear I was so wrought up with excitement I would not have slept a wink if I had not first relieved my nerves with my sticky fingers."

" Speak for yourself," said Arabella, " I could not have borne man woman or my own fingers between my thighs last night, and I dare say Althea was in no better case. Our poor cunts had all the caresses they could stand and more, from that merciless bar and fiendish harp-string."

"Nor I," added Barbara, "I was in no condition to think of anything but my bowels and my chamber-pot, and self-relief was no where in my thoughts, though I would not say the same tonight, unless some young man comes to my rescue."

Georgina laughed. "What a sorry lot we are. I still yearn for a bath, although I had one last night, and two more already today, my poor maids have been carrying water as if to a house fire, and yet there's none here, it seems, but would do it all again."

"Yes! Yes!" Zelda positively bubbled over with enthusiasm, her sore nipples quite forgotten. "Oh, do let's do it again. I know. We will all be at Cousin Charlotte's home for Christmas. You know how dreary it gets after New Year, when everyone goes off hunting and shooting. Charlotte's suite is quite as private as your own, Georgie, and when we tell her of the sport we have had here she'll be mad to do the same."

Support came from every side. Althea's bruised crotch was still too sore for her to sit, and she lay on her side on a chaise longue. "I cannot bear to go out hurting those poor animals in the name of sport: we shall have our own sport instead. Besides I have been thinking of some new exquisitely tormenting forfeits we can try, guaranteed to make even the bravest of us blanch."

"Yes, I don't care for the chase either," chimed in Dorinda, "besides, there was far more pleasure in hunting Lavinia's hams than any fox. They sliced so succulently I could have given her a dozen."

Arabella could only marvel at these erstwhile gentle maidens, now agape to draw each other's blood and offer up their own. And only yesterday, no one of them would have spoken openly of masturbation. Oh, true, they did sometimes in private whispers between pairs of friends in corners, confide that 'My nerves were so fraught last night I had to soothe my inner self with my fingers' and suchlike, but now it was all out openly, sticky thighs and all. She wondered what Georgina had stirred up with her suggestion of 'forfeits', but nonetheless looked forward herself to Christmas at Cousin Charlotte's. She hoped Chloe would cause no trouble there, and thought she should perhaps call on her and see how she did.

She found her in another black mood, lying on her side on her bed, dressed only in shift and wrapper.

"What? Come to gloat over my smarts?"

"Don't be a silly goose, Chloe. I only came to see how you did, and invite you to join us. You're not the only one to have suffered, indeed we all have, but the others have all put a brave face on their hurts. Even now they are plotting to repeat their sport at Christmas." "Why as to that, they must please themselves, but before then you have a challenge to make good, or have you not the guts for it now? Last night you were all bravado, but I expect you have some excuse now to avoid me."

"I still stand by my opinion that it was not suitable for the young ones, but you shall never call me coward. I'll match you teat for teat wherever, and whenever you say," responded Arabella angrily, stung by Chloe's ungracious response to her friendly overtures.

"Then we shall meet in London, next Friday week. I keep a small house in town for private visits."

"Private assignations might describe it better," thought Arabella, "but who am I to talk, with my fine town house that has not lacked for male visitors." Aloud, she accepted Chloe's challenge and directions to find the house.


Some ten days later, evening found her descending from her carriage outside Chloe's door, telling her driver to wait for her until she reappeared which, she thought, might be an hour or so. As befitted her station, she wore a silk gown over layers of petticoats, but in view of the nature of her visit, of very simple cut. Over it she wore a short velvet cape. As might be expected, she had thought often of what might happen this evening. If Chloe was obstinate, and pushed the encounter to its limits as her twisted nature made very likely, then it was more than probable that she would come away again with torn and bleeding nipples. The potential of barbed pike hooks to wound delicate teats was

undeniable, and Chloe would make sure she suffered the utmost damage, regardless of the cost to herself. Since her breasts must be exposed, and moreover she would almost certainly have to cope with bleeding nipples, she had not worn a high corset, but one cut so low as to be little more than a broad waist cincher.

A maid showed her to Chloe's room. "You may go to your room now, Jane. I shall not be requiring you for a while, and you will stay there, whatever may befall, until I come for you." The girl looked uncomfortable, but withdrew as instructed.

"The girl has an attic three floors above, so we will not be disturbed."

"Good. Now how shall we proceed? I would think we should bare our breasts first before we start. By the way, where are the hooks? I do not see them anywhere."

"I have had a better idea," said Chloe. "A scratched nipple is one thing, any schoolgirl could endure that. Let us see if you really have courage, or if as I suspect, when faced with a woman sized hazard, you show the coward that you are.

"You dare to call be coward," Arabella exploded, rising to the bait. "I'll hazard anything you'd dare, and more."

"Anything? Would you stake your cunt?"

"What do you mean? How stake my cunt?"

"Ah, wavering already. I said you would not dare."

"No. I merely asked what manner of contest it should be. I've already said that I would dare if you would, on equal terms."

"Then see these." Chloe produced two glistening brown shapes, the size of hen's eggs. "These are made of gelatin by an apothecary I know. If you were to place one in your cunt, the heat would melt the gelatin and release the contents. It is a method much used in France for taking medication of all kinds, although their suppositories are usually somewhat smaller. I am told that Ladies of quality will have no dose of any kind, but it is put up their cunt or their bums. 'Tis all the rage."

"But what have we to do with medication this evening?" queried Arabella. "We are more like to need plasters and dressings for our breasts."

"Not so. One of these capsules contains only water, but the other contains a strong caustic. So strong indeed, that released into a woman's vagina, it would very quickly burn away the wall, inflicting the utmost agony and depriving her of the use of that organ for many months at least. It is not certain even if it could ever serve its proper function again. That is what I meant by hazarding your cunt." Arabella looked at her in disbelief.

"That is altogether too far. You cannot mean such a monstrous risk." "Ah, ha. Now we see you in your true colours, which are yellow. I said you would not dare when it came to a trial worthy of a woman," taunted Chloe, "it would have been a fair contest, had you had the stomach for it. I'd have given you choice of egg. Now all I can do is tell the world of your cowardice."

"You shall not. I will match you." Had Chloe's rage turned her brain, or was she bluffing? Either way, she had no choice but to take up the challenge."How do we proceed?"

Chloe smirked in triumph at trapping her rival into risking such an appalling injury.

"When we have stripped, we each take an egg, you shall have first choice as I promised. We shall do this in the kitchen, which is why I have sent Jane to her room. There we will each push our egg fully home within our cunts, and bind a sash between our legs and up around our waists to keep them there. I have tried out a similar capsule, filled with water, and there will be several minutes in which to get ready." "And how shall we be disposed while we wait?" asked Arabella in astonishment.

"That is why we shall use the kitchen. It has a solid table and two equally solid benches. On each bench, besides the sashes we shall use, I have wound a leather strap. When we have the eggs against our wombs, secured by the sashes, we will sit facing each other and buckle the straps round our waists. Then we shall lay our fore-arms on the table, you taking my wrists in your hands, I taking yours. Thus neither can attempt to free herself until the other allows."

Arabella felt sick. Chloe had obviously thought this matter through, and was determined to carry it off.

Chloe picked up the eggs and led the way to the kitchen, placing them in the centre of the table, a solid affair as she had described it, and the benches just as substantial, each with a stout leather strap and a coloured sash lying on it.

"That is your place over there, where the blue sash lies. I shall sit this side where the red sash lies."

"Chloe, this is madness." Arabella tried to reason one last time. " We are both risking our very womanhood, and for what? Think again, before it is too late."

"It seems to me that it is you who is thinking again. Of running off with your tail between your legs, that is," Chloe laughed scornfully, "and while you still have a tail there."

There was nothing for it now. Arabella put her fingers to the

fastenings of her dress and made preparations to bare herself. At that moment there was a knocking at the front door.

"Damnation," cried Chloe. "I must go myself before Jane disregards her orders, and finds us with our preparations made." She whirled from the room to answer the repeated summons.

Left to herself, Arabella continued her undressing. When her dress was off she turned to find a safe place to lay it where it would not be soiled, and as she turned, her unhampered petticoats swirled out and brushed the red sash off the bench. As she bent to retrieve it she froze. What treachery was this? Sitting on the bench, until now hidden by the sash, was a third egg, identical to those sitting in silent menace on the table. A thousand calculations flashed in a particle of a second and with scarcely a pause, she set the new egg on the table and snatched one at random to replace it, throwing the red sash over it as it had been before her horrifying discovery. Was this proper? She thought so. If there was the treachery she suspected, no, more than suspected, was certain of, then there had been two deadly eggs on the table not one. Chloe was now condemned to certain mutilation by her own hand, but that was a just nemesis, and she was not taking any coward's way herself, for she still set herself to face the same odds as had been agreed, that she too would have her womanhood burnt out of her.

When Chloe returned, Arabella had stripped to her shift and cincher, and hoped that any signs of her racing pulse would be put down to trepidation at the horror she faced. Nor would this be entirely wrong, though her mood was as much of anger as of apprehension.

"A stupid traveller asking directions, who would not be sent away," said Chloe in explanation. "Let us get our business done before we are interrupted again."

In minutes they were naked and facing each other across the table, each by her designated colour. Chloe picked up the eggs again and rolled them in her hands, passed them from palm to palm behind her back and, finally offered them on an open palm for Arabella to make her choice. "Take your sash and tie one end around your waist." Chloe instructed. Arabella set her egg upon the table as she picked up her sash, and tied it so that the long free end hung down behind. As she did so, she noticed Chloe had set her egg on the bench with the same hand that reached for the sash. When Chloe reached again with her sash now tied, she knew the substitution had been made.

"Push your egg well up your cunt, as I do mine, then bring the sash through your legs and tie it to the front." Arabella shuddered as she felt the slippery capsule slide into her most intimate place. She was well aware that she still faced an even chance of the hideous fate that now, she felt certain, must overtake her opponent.

" Now sit and fasten the belt tightly round your hips," came the order, and then, when both had done so, "place your wrists in my hands, and hold my wrists in yours."

They sat immobile, staring in each other's eyes, Arabella very conscious of the bulk of the egg in her vagina, and its terrible potential. Had she chosen well or ill? Would it be relief or agony she experienced now? The next few minutes could see her screaming her womanhood away, perhaps never to return. She had no real idea what the result of the lye or acid, whichever it was, might be, but she was certain she would be in no fit state to share the Christmas frolics they had been planning. Dear God! Could she feel it already, a sticky ooze as the gelatin trickled down her vagina?

"How long before they act?" she asked.

"Not long now before you feel the pains of hell, bitch." She felt Chloe's grip tighten on her wrists, as if to make certain she could not escape. The certainty in her voice, and her lack of concern for her own safety confirmed her treacherous intent with the third egg, but left Arabella sick with fear at her own chance of martyrdom.

"Can you feel it now?" gloated Chloe, her lips drawn back from her teeth. "Can you feel the walls melting, the gelatin slipping down your cunt? Soon the caustic will follow and burn you out, while I sit here and hold you fast as I drink in your screams. It can't be long now before you feel the first burning."

Arabella sat bathed in horror at the madness in Chloe's eyes and the monster lurking in her cunt. Yes. she could feel it now. It was

starting. She could feel liquid trickle from the hatching egg. She opened her mouth, as if to scream, and her thighs clamped tight in an instinctive gesture, before she realised that she was sodden and yet unharmed. Dear God! She had chosen rightly. She was saved.

Chloe looked puzzled at her lack of reaction, and then she must have had the first intimations in her own body of what was happening, for her eyes opened wide and then a look of horror swept over her face. Her mouth opened in a terrible scream compounded of rage, frustration and agony.

Arabella flung off the clawing hands and whipped open the belt round her hips. She dashed round the table and struggled to release the writhing screaming creature fastened to the other bench. Chloe

collapsed, spasming, on the floor while her would-be rescuer sought to remove the sash. She rushed to the sink and returned with water, which she poured as copiously as she could over the sufferer's hands and loins. She had no hope of effectively flushing out the scalded vagina, but at least she could save the outer parts, plus the buttocks, the thighs and the hands groping vainly at the injured vulva.

She worked feverishly until she felt she had done all that could be to disperse the corrosive contents of the egg. It was only when Chloe's screams and struggles had subsided to a continuous moaning, as the wounded girl lay wrapped around herself on the floor, that the

realization came to her that this was the fate that Chloe had designed for her and that, but for the grace of God, it would have been she curled on the stone floor with her cunt burnt out. She fought down a feeling of nausea and ran up to the maid's attic room. At first she could get no answer. She opened the door to find Jane with her head under her pillow to keep out the terrible sounds which had penetrated even up here. She roused her from her ostrich pose and sent her to find a doctor quickly.

For now there was nothing she could do for Chloe, so she looked to herself and, removing the wet sash, still drawn between her legs, resumed her clothes. When Jane returned with the Doctor, she was able to face him with a little composure, and explained that the lady had been medicating herself in the new French fashion, but that some ghastly mistake must have been made in making up the dose. She offered the man the third egg as a sample of what had so damaged the patient, and on its being opened, he immediately sent for soda to flush out the wounded vagina.

Arabella asked him how he thought she would fare, and if her life might be threatened, and was somewhat reassured to hear that, in part due to her prompt action, her life was in no danger, but the prognosis for her womanhood was uncertain at this time. Her immediate anxiety for Chloe assuaged, she began for the first time to think of her own position. She had done all she could for the poor demented woman, more than many so betrayed might have, and now she was in good hands. Exhausted and drained by the reaction to the betrayal, fear and stress she had suffered these last few hours, she sought her patient coachman and her home.