The Priestess and the Brat Ch. 03

They climbed back in through the servant's window and Cassia left Ligeia and Athalia to seek out her own chamber. When she arrived, intending on sneaking in silently, she saw the figure of a woman sitting on the edge of her bed. Her heart stopped.

The figure rose to her feet and spoke. "I know where you've been," she said in a hushed tone. She stepped closer to Cassia and Cassia recognized her as one of the household cleaning servants. She was older than Cassia, possibly in her late 30's, but very lean and fit. She had black hair and thick black eyebrows set high above large brown eyes and her skin was the color of ripened olives. Her features narrow and her chin was pointed. Cassia correctly guessed that the woman was Egyptian.

The woman folded her arms across her chest and spoke again in the hushed tone, saying, "I should call out for Gaia. You and your little whores are nothing but trouble. You treat the servants like dirt and you disobey the rules without care. I have seen your kind before. You think that your powerful father will solve all of your problems for you. You are like a spoiled child who breaks things and then leaves others to clean up your mess. What do you think will happen if you are caught sneaking out at night? You will be cast out of here and your father will have to have your pretty little harlots whipped to be punished for your insolence. But I think you will not care, will you? Nor do I care. I may be punished as well for letting you out of this house at night, but it will be nothing. At least I will be rid of a wretched little brat. For that I would gladly take my lashings."

Cassia panicked. She could not anger her father. Not now. The consequences were far worse than even this washwoman knew. If Cassia were evicted from the safe house, it would be bad not just for her and her servants, but for her entire family as well. If the emperor found out that her father had hidden his daughter away out of fear that the emperor would be dethroned, it would be taken as a lack of faith and of treason. Her father would be put to death and his property would be confiscated. She herself might be spared, but only to be sold into slavery or married off to some old, decrepit public official as a bribe.

"Please, I beg you," Cassia pleaded. "I do not wish harm to my servants.... Or to you. I will do anything. I have some coin at my disposal... perhaps it would help you to purchase your freedom."

The washwoman could see the genuine fear in Cassia's eyes. She was intrigued. "My freedom? Ha! I do not want my freedom! I am quite happy here. What I want is to be rid of petulant little pests, such as you. What I want is to get a night's sleep. What I want is peace to return to my household!"

"Please. Pleeeaaaassseeee," begged Cassia, tears welling in her eyes. She could not let this woman know her secret, yet nor could she allow her to call for Gaia. "I will do anything. ANYTHING."

"Anything?" asked the washwoman, folding her arms across her chest. The brat was very attractive. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed the pleasures of a young girl. Years before, when she still had her own youth, it was not uncommon for the wealthy women guests of the house to call for her to serve them in ways more intimate than just washing and cleaning. But the flower of youth had begun to fade in her and so had her value. The guests preferred the youngest serving girls and she had learned to resent their youth, just as she now resented Cassia's youth.

The washwoman took a scarf from Cassia's wardrobe and balled it up. She then went to Cassia, who was nearly sobbing at this point. Without warning, she roughly shoved the scarf into Cassia's mouth. Cassia's eyes went wide in instant alarm. She began to tremble.

"If you want my silence," said the washwoman, "You will have to pay for it. Not with coin... I shall punish you." With that, she tore off Cassia's robe and pulled the girl's tunic over her head, leaving her naked and exposed. She grabbed the girl by the arm and ushered her over to the bed, shoving her face first onto the bedding so that she was sprawled across it. "Make a sound," warned the washwoman, "And I will have the entire household in here in an instant. Do I make myself clear?"

Cassia nodded. The washwoman pulled the girl up onto all fours and then pushed her head down so that her round bottom was up in the air. The washwoman smacked it hard. Cassia uttered a muffled cry and was immediately shushed. "Not... a... sound!" With that, she smacked Cassia's young bottom again... and again. Cassia began to sob, but she did her best to keep silent. After a few more whacks, the washwoman paused and ran her fingers over the young bottom. When she reached the cleft, she trailed a finger down along its length to the girl's pussy to discover that it was wet.

"You filthy little slut!" she said. "You're enjoying this!" Cassia realized, to her own horror, that she WAS sexually aroused. She was terrified and shamed and humiliated, but turned on as well. In her entire life, she had never been so much as spoken harshly to, let alone punished for anything. She was the daughter of a senator. She was untouchable. As a child, if she misbehaved, her servants would be punished in her place. This rough treatment was so shocking and so outside of her understanding of the world, that it took her entire being by surprise. And one aspect of that surprise was a shocking sexual arousal.

The washwoman plunged two fingers into Cassia's sopping cunt and withdrew them, coated with the young girl's wetness. She walked around to the other side of the bed and shoved the sodden fingers under Cassia's nose. "This doesn't lie," said the woman, "You're dripping like a common whore!" She rubbed the wet fingers across Cassia's cheek, and Cassia could smell her own shame. Without even thinking, Cassia's tongue snaked involuntarily out of her mouth after the wet fingers, taking in a tiny, tangy taste of her own juices.

The Washwoman laughed in triumph. She pulled the girl around and twisted her onto her back. Cassia attempted to cover her breasts in vain, but the washwoman merely slapped away the girl's wrists. She grabbed the girl's ankles and spread them wide apart, opening the girl's pussy. The washwoman returned her two fingers to the girl's cunt and began to slide them in and out. With her free hand, she slapped the girl again, this time on her inner thigh, eliciting a muffled squeal. Soon, a third finger entered the girl, followed by a fourth and finally the woman's thumb. The woman forced her hand as far into the girl as it would go. The girl's cunt was oozing fluid and the rhythmic fist-fucking made a wet, sloppy sound. In and out, harder and harder. The whole time, the washwoman slapped at the girl and called her the most base and degrading names. Slut. Whore. Trash. When the girl finally came, her entire body convulsed. She writhed and twisted, trying desperately to free herself from the washwoman's invading hand. Finally, she managed to roll over onto her stomach. She felt the woman's hand slip out with a slosh and suddenly, she felt empty.

Cassia, lay there for a moment, catching her breath. Her head was spinning. She had just cum harder than she could ever remember. It was incredible while it was happening; the world had slipped away and all that mattered was the intense and searing mixture of pleasure and pain. But now that it was over, the real world came crashing back, and it brought with it a profound humiliation. She, Cassia, daughter to a Roman senator, had been violated and abused by a lowly house servant. And, worse, she had enjoyed it. She began to cry in confusion and shame.

The washwoman had walked around to the other side of the bed where Cassia's head hung. She gently stroked Cassia's hair for a moment and said, "Oh, you little harlot. You're not finished yet." With that, she lifted one foot up onto the bed, opening her own wet cunt to the girl. Her fingers curled into the girl's braided locks and grabbed ahold of the back of the girl's head, lifting it up. With that, she shoved her pelvis forward, forcing her cunt into the girl's face. She began to writhe and grind against the girl, using her grip on the back of the girl's head to ensure that she smeared her own wetness all over the girl's face. "Stick out your tongue, slut!" Cassia tried to refuse and attempted to twist her face to the side, but the washwoman roughly forced her head back into place. "This will be over a lot sooner if you follow my commands" insisted the woman.

Cassia tentatively obliged. At first, she just stuck out her tongue and let the woman grind against her face. But before long, Cassia began to lick and lap at the hot, acrid Egyptian pussy. The woman increased her pace and her force. She erupted in a shaking frenzy, her cunt spraying a fountain of hot, clear fluid that tasted almost, but not quite, like pee. The woman grunted and then tossed Cassia's head down. She withdrew and picked up her own tunic, slipping it on. She looked Cassia in the eye and said, "Remember this, brat, for you can be certain that I will." With that, she slipped out of the room and was gone.

End, part 3.