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In her heart of hearts, Goodwife Jane had to admit that she’d never approved of the maidservant’s looks or behavior. Fiona, a distant cousin of Jane’s, had come over from Ireland fleeing some unspecified disgrace. From the moment Jane laid eyes on Fiona’s silky, fiery red hair, her milk-white skin sprinkled with the lightest of freckles and the sassy way she seemed to twitch her hips as she descended down the ship’s gangway, she’d wanted to reach out and give Fiona’s face a good slap.
That Fiona’s behavior, from that day to this, had been impeccably demure didn’t stop Jane from unfairly punishing her in a multitude of tiny ways – and from taking a mean pleasure in watching the girl flush with impotent frustration when she did – but Jane had never quite had the chance to plumb the depths of her envy-fueled irritation with the girl.
That is, until the day Jane came across her husband peeking in at Fiona while the girl was taking a bath.
“Lucas!” Goodwife Jane hissed at her husband. “You forget yourself! For shame!”
To her shock, Lucas did not react with even a hint of embarrassment. Instead, he put his finger to his lips, indicating to her to be quiet, and then gestured to her to come closer. Filled with a mixture of rage and confusion, Goodwife Jane tiptoed over to the crack in the half-open door. “Look for yourself,” Lucas whispered. “That cannot be natural. I’m telling you, it’s the devil’s work.”
At first, Jane did not understand what he meant. Fiona was sitting in the brass tub with her back to the door, and all Jane could see was the long white curve of her back, and that bright red hair tied in a pile on the top of her head. But as Fiona reached for a flannel washcloth that hung on the edge of the tub, she turned to her side and Jane let out an involuntary gasp.
The girl’s breasts were huge, entirely disproportionate to her thin frame, yet they hung high on her chest as though lighter than air. The round globes were the size of – Jane’s mind grasped for an analogy – not full-grown pumpkins, but near it, my God – and their pale, flawless skin almost glowed. Even more shocking, though, than their size and buoyancy were the abominations at their centers – dark pink circles the size of silver dollars, thickening into nipples that jutted out to an obscene, unbelievable length. Two inches? Three? Jane had never seen anything like it, even while breastfeeding her own four children.
At first, she hesitated – could they not just be unusually large? But then she saw the fire in Lucas’s eyes. He had never stared at her own body this way. He must be right. This was the devil’s work.
“How – how did we never realize?” she stammered under her breath. “She must be hiding it from us somehow, the deceitful wench.”
“She wraps them,” Lucas whispered. “Binds them tightly in cloth, so they don’t show under her dress. I first spotted it a few weeks ago, but at first I didn’t believe the evidence of my own two eyes.”
A dark bolt of jealousy shot through Jane’s heart as she thought of her husband watching the wretch for weeks, and yet saying nothing. “Why did you not tell me? To think I’ve had such a satanic creature living under my roof, touching my children -”
“Hush, woman!” But it was too late. Fiona had heard them. Her eyes flew to the half-open door. At the sight of the two stern faces glaring at her from outside she let out a yelp and ineffectively tried to cover herself with her arms.
The sight of such a shameless creature pretending to modesty provoked Jane into a fury. She slammed the door wide open and ran at Fiona. “Harlot! She-beast! Devil’s whore!” With windmilling arms, she hit at the girl’s face and shoulders, sending Fiona slipping down into the tub. “Witch! Succubus! Slut! Whore!” Jane grabbed Fiona’s mass of hair and hauled her, dripping wet, up onto her knees.
“PLEASE, Mistress!” Fiona spluttered. “I’ve done nothing wrong! Stop, please! Tell me what I’ve done!”
“Slut!” Jane cried. “Whore! You dare to cry to me for mercy? Look at this!” Still holding Fiona by the hair with one hand, Jane opened her other palm and smacked the girl across her breasts. “Look at these – these – monstrosities! You waggle the evidence in my face, and you tell me you’re not in league with the devil?!” Jane slapped Fiona’s tits again as the girl gasped for breath. The naked girl struggled to escape, and her chest heaved in a way that only provoked Jane to greater fury. Smack! Smack! Smack!
“JANE.” Lucas deep voice echoed through the room.
Jane looked up and saw her children – all boys, ages five to fifteen – gathered wide-eyed at the door, joined by the neighbor maidservant and the stable boy. At the sight of them, Fiona mewed a little in shame, and Jane watched a flush of embarrassment rise from Fiona’s stomach up across her enormous, obscene bosom and right into her pretty little face.
“Jane. I understand your horror, but there is no need for such a commotion. We must take her to Reverend Donovan. He’ll know what to do.”
“Yes,” siirt escort Jane said, calming a little. “Of course.”
“But please, please, sir!” Fiona begged piteously. “What have I done? I don’t understand…”
“Children, go to your rooms,” Lucas commanded. “Fiona. Not a word more from your cursed mouth or I will beat you to a pulp before Reverend Donovan has a chance to mete out your punishment.” He strode over to the women, grabbed Fiona by one slim arm and dragged her from the tub. She tumbled forward and collapsed on the ground, reduced to a heap of pale, quivering flesh.
“Sir,” she whimpered.
“SILENCE. Cover yourself.” He flung Fiona’s cotton shift at her head. “There’s no need to fully dress, as you’ll be exposing your shameful body to the Reverend shortly.”
Abashed and afraid, Fiona slid the shift over her head. The thin cotton shift did little to hide the bulging mounds of flesh beneath, and the girl’s erect nipples were clearly visible beneath the dampening fabric. Realizing that their eyes were still fastened to her breasts, Fiona gave out a little cry and tried once again to cover herself with her arms.
Jane took a heavy wool blanket off of the shelf and thrust it at the girl. “Here,” she said. “Wrap yourself in this.”
Fiona shrouded herself in the blanket. Jane took hold of one of Fiona’s shoulders, and Lucas grabbed the other. Together, they marched Fiona -barefoot, tearful and quaking with fear – down the dirt road to the house of the Reverend.
A few minutes later, Jane, Lucas and Fiona were standing in the Reverend’s front room. The three guests faced Reverend Donovan, who was himself flanked by two more men of the Church: Reverend Godwin and Reverend Doyle.
Fiona stared at the three religious men, terrified to realize that they would be the ones to decide her fate.
Reverend Donovan, the head of the local church, was a fierce-looking man of about sixty-five, with a shock of white hair on his head and two smaller tufts of hair protruding from his nostrils. Fiona knew he had no fondness for her – he had boxed her ears for impertinence in front of the whole congregation last year, even though she was a full-grown woman, all of nineteen.
Reverend Godwin was a tall, handsome man with shadowy hollows under his cheeks and small blue eyes. The disdainful way he’d run his gaze over her from head to toe before Lucas had even begun to explain the situation made Fiona doubt he’d show her any kindness.
And Reverend Doyle – Fiona had been aware of men like Reverend Doyle since she’d first begun to develop, men with piggy faces, loose, sensuous lips and fast, creeping fingers.
She shivered.
“You won’t understand unless you see for yourself, Reverend ,” Lucas was explaining. “Words can hardly do it justice. She denies everything, of course, but the evidence is right there on her body. This girl is in league with the devil.”
Reverend Donovan gave a dry cough. “I’ll be the judge of that, Goodman Lucas. But we’re blessed to have Reverend Godwin and Reverend Doyle here with us today. They’re experts in the field of witchcraft.”
Witchcraft! Fiona’s heart sank. Against her better judgment, the words bubbled to her lips: “But Reverend, please, I’ve never done any witchcraft, none! I don’t know what they’re accusing me of, but I’m innocent, I swear!”
Reverend Donovan ignored her, but Goodman Lucas’s heavy hand gripped her shoulder painfully, and she fell silent.
“Let us see this evidence you speak of, Goodman Lucas,” Reverend Godwin said coldly, and the others nodded.
Lucas, Jane and Fiona all froze for a minute, united together by the strangeness of allowing nakedness – even the devil’s nakedness – in Reverend Donovan’s front room.
“Show us these abominations, but keep your lower half covered, as decency requires,” Reverend Donovan said sternly.
Fiona hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She had no desire to expose herself to this room full of people, but unwrapping her top half while covering her bottom was difficult, given that she was only wearing a shift and a blanket. She couldn’t lift the shift over her head without giving them a view of her entire body, but what else was she to do?
“Hurry, wench. Your foolish tactics will not deceive us,” said Reverend Doyle, and Fiona could tell from his voice and the eager way he looked at her that he wouldn’t hesitate to closely examine the “evidence” himself. No wonder he’d become such an expert in witchcraft!
Finally, Fiona lowered the blanket and wrapped it around her waist like a skirt. The last shreds of her modesty led her to turn her back on the assembled audience for a moment as she slipped her arms from the holes of the shift and tried to tug the top of it down over her breasts. No good – the shift was too tight. Tangled in the cloth, she twisted her arms and heard the fabric rip. Cold air flowed over her half-naked breasts. Dear God, was she truly about to be examined by these sinop escort strange men?
Impatient, Goodman Lucas reached over and tore the remaining cloth from her chest. Fiona cried out in horror as he spun her around to face the Reverends. Helplessly, she attempted to shield her huge, swinging tits from their view with her hands. Lucas pinned her arms behind her back and pulled her up close against him. Her head drooped, and her long red hair spilled over her chest, falling like a delicate veil between their stares and her shame.
“None of that!” Lucas cried, twisting her hair in his hand and yanking her head back. “Look at this, Reverend!” he cried, echoing his wife’s shouts from earlier in the day. “Look!” As he shouted, he shook her, brandishing her at the men so that her dark-nippled breasts bobbled up and down.
“Have you ever seen such swollen teats on such a tiny woman? Even if she were with child, it would be unnatural, but as you can see, her belly’s flat as a board. And the nipples, dear Lord – the color, the size – they’d be more at home on a cow than on a woman!”
Looking down first at her naked tits as they jiggled and quivered, and then up at the men whose mouths hung open as their eyes crawled over her body like flies, Fiona had never imagined such shame. Her knees went weak, and she felt like she might lose control of her bladder. “Uhnnnnnft,” she moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.
When she jerked awake again, Goodman Lucas was still holding her upright, her arms pinned behind her back. She had been doused with a cup of cold water. Rivulets of it pooled in her cleavage and two large drops hung, glistening, off each of her nipples. The water had revived her, but nonetheless Reverend Godwin, the harsh, handsome one, strode over to her and slapped her face so hard that it stung. “Awake, harlot!” he cried.
He turned to the other religious men, who appeared to have been struck dumb at the sight of Fiona’s unnaturally large and buoyant breasts.
“I know what this is,” Reverend Godwin announced. “I have seen it before. This woman has been giving suck to demons. These are the devil’s teats.”
Upon hearing the Reverend’s pronouncement, Goodman Lucas flung Fiona away from him in horror. She landed face-first -or rather, breast-first- and slid forward, jamming her boobs on the ground and scraping her nipples against the rough boards. “Owch,” she cried, gathering her soft, abused flesh in her hands.
“Stop her!” Reverend Godwin cried, and yanked her up by the hair before twisting her arms behind her. This was the second – or was it the third? – time she’d been mistreated that way so far today. How much more could her poor body take? “Oh, God!” she cried. “Help me, please!”
Jane, who’d been standing silently to the side, cuffed Fiona across the mouth. On the verge of hysterics, she shrieked, “Filthy girl! Calling on God when you’ve been nursing the devil!”
“Not the devil.” Fiona heard Reverend Godwin’s words echo authoritatively in her ear. “Devils. Minor devils, most likely. They’re very small, almost invisible to the naked eye. That’s why she keeps covering her teats with her hands. She wants to give them shelter so they can come and suck.”
Was the man insane?
“No! No! It’s not truuuuuue,” she wailed, but Goodman Lucas was nodding as though Reverend Godwin’s lunacy made perfect sense.
“Yes, she’s always been very secretive, trying to keep them covered. I told you, Jane, the way I caught her wrapping herself in cloth before she dressed. I thought she was just being sneaky, but now I see that she was keeping herself for her devil’s spawn.”
“That is certainly the case,” Reverend Godwin said sagely. “Although, to be precise, they are not her spawn. This girl has not yet been impregnated by a devil. She is more of a – how shall I put it? – a wet nurse. Her devotion to her master is being tested. If she gives this part of her body slavishly enough to the demons that he sends to her, then she will have proved her allegiance, and he will fill her womb with his seed. If that happens, she will be lost to us, and her soul will be doomed to hell forever. But before that happens, we still have the chance to drive the demons away, and lure her back to salvation.”
“I see.” Goodman Lucas nodded. “But how will we do that?”
“No! Demons, nurses, children, devils – this is madness! Utter madness!” Fiona babbled, but everyone ignored her.
“It will be a long and difficult process,” Reverend Godwin said. “To be honest with you, her mind may not survive. She may be left a madwoman, or a drooling idiot. But it is her only hope.”
Fiona stood in the corner of the room. The wool blanket Jane had given her was still wrapped around her waist, but the late-afternoon light from the room’s one window tracked brightly across her naked breasts. She held her hands clasped behind her back, as she had been instructed, and tried not to think about what the future held. şırnak escort
Goodwife Jane, Goodman Lucas and the three religious men sat around the table, discussing her fate in low, secretive tones. Reverend Donovan was writing something on a piece of parchment paper. As Fiona watched, he dipped his quill pen into the inkwell and signed his name with a flourish.
“There,” he said loudly. “So. You understand your instructions.”
“Yes,” Goodwife Jane said. “I understand. But Reverend, I can hardly believe – it’s so public – I mean, the souls of the children – what will people think?”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. When you’ve placed this proclamation to the public notice board, they will know that I have ordered it, and how they must behave.”
“I know, but -“
“Enough. Take her home. On the way, nail this proclamation to the board. Better yet, have her do it. Best the whole town know at once. Once you’ve returned to your household, if there are any chores she has yet to complete, she may do them. We do not want to inconvenience you overmuch, and we realize this will cause a profound disruption in your household. In the daytime, someone must always stay with her to ensure that she obeys her instructions, but it needn’t be you. At night, she will be delivered here so that we may watch her carefully and do whatever it takes to drive the devils away from her. Doing so may take a few days, a few weeks, or a month or more. There is no way to tell, but we all must persevere. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Reverend,” Jane said.
“A few more things, Goodwife Jane,” the handsome one, Reverend Godwin, added. “First, do not converse with the harlot more than necessary to convey your instructions, and do not suffer her to speak to others. The devil has not completely possessed her, but she may still deceive you with her seductive entreaties. Also –”
He rose from the table and stood close to Fiona, staring with brows furrowed down at her enormous chest. He seemed intent in thought, and the skin of her breasts seemed to crawl under the intensity of his gaze. She tried to shrink back away from him, but he pressed forward until her back was up against the wall. Then, to her horror, he placed his palms under her breasts and plumped them meditatively, as though weighing them. She tried to writhe away from the clinical yet over-familiar touch, but he cupped her flesh with his hands and then rolled her nipples meditatively between finger and thumb.
“Eeeemmmpfh,” she whimpered, and rolled her eyes anxiously. She twisted her head and tried to look away, only to find Reverend Doyle staring at her, almost grinning, his eyes shining with unconcealed lust.
“Reverend Donovan,” Reverend Godwin said calmly, as though he weren’t in the middle of groping a half-naked, freakishly buxom maidservant in front of an array of guests. “Do you have a pot of grease, of the kind you might use to shine a saddle or a pot?”
“I believe so,” said Reverend Donovan. “Goodwife Anna!” he called out to his servant, an elderly lady who’d been watching the proceedings from the kitchen doorway with a horrified yet strangely avid expression on her face.
Anna hurried to the kitchen and returned with a small tub of clear, thick grease. She handed it to Reverend Godwin, who took it and then turned back to Fiona.
“Place your hands behind your head, harlot,” he said.
She obeyed, trembling.
“This may not work,” Reverend Godwin said to the assembled company. “The demons are quick and clever. But not only is the grease slippery, it smells and tastes foul, so it may prevent them from feeding even if, by any chance the girl manages to briefly evade your surveillance.”
Reverend Godwin knelt down, so that his face was directly at the level of Fiona’s massive cleavage. He dipped two fingers into the tub of grease and scooped out a heavy glob. Fiona knew what was coming, yet she couldn’t help but gasp as he slopped the cold grease onto one of her breasts, and then repeated the maneuver with the other.
“Reverend Donovan, might you assist me?”
Reverend Donovan stood to obey, but Revered Doyle practically knocked him over in his rush to reach Fiona first. She squeezed her eyes shut in disgust as the mauling began. Each man used both hands to massage the disgusting, slippery grease into her flesh, squeezing and squashing her tits until she groaned.
Reverend Godwin took a stern, almost businesslike approach to the task of greasing her breast; but the fat Reverend Doyle could barely contain his glee. He ran his creeping fingers up and down her tit, jiggling it up and down like a child with a new favorite toy. Despite the fact that her skin was now covered in filthy grease, he stared at the bouncing breast with such greedy hunger that Fiona almost expected him to start licking and lapping at her flesh.
Finally, Reverend Godwin interrupted the man’s play: “Reverend Doyle. Please maintain your focus, and remember to concentrate on the nipple, as that is the fount from which the demons feed.”
Obediently, Reverend Doyle reached back into the tub and slathered Fiona’s pink nipple with grease. He tried to rub the lubricant in but the nipple slithered out of his fingers like a worm. He grabbed at it clumsily but it kept slipping away.
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