A New Birth of Freedom Ch. 01

"Yes, Doctor."

"Doula, help me up. I want to stand. Then tell me a story, a pretty story."

"Yes, Mistress."

"How appropriate to call you 'doula'. You know, it's Greek for 'female slave.' One would think for a birthing woman to call her assistant 'slave' would be the height of oppression, disrespect and insult to sisterhood. But it's so right for us, isn't it, doula?"

"Yes, Mistress. I love you, Mistress, and only want to serve you."

"I trust you completely, and you trust me. Now tell me a sweet bedtime story."

************************************

Twelve hours later, the contractions came closer, the grinding even harder. Lady Nadine leaned back against the wall, legs spread as wide as if a spreader bar were clamped to her ankles. She tried to make a joke of it. Valerie stood near her.

An hour later, the water broke, and Valerie dried Lady Nadine. Valerie had long since changed from business suit and heels to coverall and cross-trainers. The course taught Valerie that birthing could involve blood, shit, piss and cum. Something to look forward to--NOT! Valerie thought.

Valerie called Helen Waston, who walked in quickly but without an appearance of hurry.

"Do you want me to move things along?" Dr. Waston asked.

"Not unless there's something wrong," Nadine answered.

Dr. Waston removed the monitor from the armoire and attached it to Lady Nadine. "Readings are normal, no fetal distress," she said, "Valerie, help Nadine onto the bed, I want to check dilation."

Dr. Waston went on. "I'm going to keep you hooked up. You're dilating normally but it will be hours yet. First children take their time, and this one is a big one and not in a hurry. Valerie, you know how this thing works; if it starts beeping quickly or Nadine shows any distress, page Anil Singh or me. One of us will be here. It's starting to get busy now. Here comes the three-o'clock-jump. Must come from when we gave birth in caves and didn't want the sabre-tooth tigers to get us."

Valerie helped Lady Nadine out of the bed and back onto her feet. The contractions came closer. Valerie was administering the ice chips, keeping the lights low, whispering to Lady Nadine. She helped Lady Nadine breathe through the contractions, holding her hands and then pressing into her lower back to counter-pressure the contractions. Valerie was unaware of tiredness or the sticky feeling of the coveralls she wore. She left only once, to go and piss (Oh shit, should have worn a diaper, she thought); she forgot to flush the toilet.

**************************************

Lady Nadine was distant, as far away as Charles had been that night in January. She panted into the contractions, panting like a dog to stop from pushing, and grunting or moaning as they crested. Her mouth was dry, and the ice chips barely kept her lips from cracking with the dryness. The lights in the room were barely on. Lady Nadine broke the silence, pushing out the words as she ground her teeth.

"Fucking Descartes--got it wrong," Nadine said, nearly breathless, "I hurt-- therefore-- I am."

8:00 a.m. Valerie stirred in her chair; she had taken one catnap, less than five minutes. She had to be alert for Lady Nadine's needs and commands. Lady Nadine was leaning against the wall again, grunting as the contractions went on. The monitor continued its steady beep. Grey light was coming through the window, the dim light of the birthing room overtaken by dawn.

"Happy birthday, little Master," whispered Valerie, sure that Chip Vanquil would be born that day.

Valerie brought Nadine more ice and a sip of the apple juice from the refrigerator.

With great control, breaking through the pain by sheer will, Lady Nadine said, "You... may... have some... juice yourself...Slave. Perhaps... you... can get... breakfast."

Valerie took the breakfast pack out of her backpack. Hiker's dehydrated bacon and eggs, instant coffee, powdered milk--and Sally had put in Splenda in place of the sugar. Using the coffeemaker at the sink, she heated the water and had her breakfast, as if she were back on the camping trip she and Sally had taken that summer just past. She tried to keep the aroma of the food from permeating the room, protecting her Mistress.

Valerie smiled as she remembered the camping trip with Sally. Camping with a pregnant lady had been an experience; getting the air mattresses just right for sex made up in delight what it lost in spontaneity. Nothing was better than an orgasm under a spectacular meteor shower, the sky exploding in tune with her body. And the scent of pine needles and Sally's pussy, more intense and delicious than before, with her warm, milky pregnancy secretions. And there was Sally, nipple rings removed and replaced with tiny gold studs to free her breasts for the swelling to come, Sally's clit hood, the golden stud through it tickling her tongue, and the still warm earth, and Sally begging for orgasm, and at last, Sally exploding against her tongue, her fingers, and Sally, and her own orgasms, cresting, falling, the meteors joining their flaming bodies to hers, and Sally....

Lady Nadine's reserve, carefully crafted over years, was starting to break up. The contractions were clearly stronger. Her voice was choked, strange to Valerie. She spoke even as the contractions drove through her, an unending convoy of pain. "Slave, you know--my father and mother said I was dead when I married Charles. I married out of our religion. My sister and my brother, and I loved them, think I am dead. My mother said--my mother said--when I left her the last time-- to marry Charles, my darling Charles, that though I might carry I would never birth, my child would die, like David's with Bathsheba's, God would punish me, my son would--" she broke down.

Valerie's fury was physical. How dare anyone say that? How in Hell, and she meant in Hell, could a mother say that to her child? Her body tensed as if she was going to hit someone. Her fists bunched, her face white with fury, she stepped forward, and then stopped. No time for her emotions, only time for Mistress, her beloved Mistress.

"Mistress, no! I'm here! I will protect you and the baby. I'm here!" She put her arms around Lady Nadine and held her. Lady Nadine grunted. She was sweating, although the room was pleasantly cool. Valerie wiped her with a soft towel, and started singing Sally's song: "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, 'cause I love you."

Calmer, Lady Nadine said, "They're coming, he's coming...."

Lady Nadine moved down to squat against the wall. The monitor's beeps sped up. Valerie called for Dr. Waston.

Helen Waston looked less focused than usual. Fatigue and disgust crossed her face as she spoke. "Two Caesarians tonight, one woman had no, absolutely no, prenatal at all, a teenager who didn't dare tell her parents (how they didn't notice I'll never figure out)--God give me strength, I'd like to strangle those people--now how is my friend Nadine?"

"I've... Been... Better." She tore each word from her throat.

"Let's look at you," shining a flashlight at Nadine's bulging vulva, stretching as Helen looked, "oh, you're doing great, not long now, maybe an hour and we'll have a birthday party. Do you want me to call Charles?"

Nadine shook her head. "Doula... Call... Charles."

"Yes, Mistress." Valerie took her cell phone out and called.

"Yes, Valerie?" Charles had obviously been awake through the night.

"Master, Mistress says your slave must humbly request that you arrive within the hour."

"Status?"

"Dr. Waston says everything is normal, and expects birth within the hour, Master."

"Excellent. Convey my respects to your Mistress the mother, and I will arrive shortly."

"Yes, Master."

"When our baby is born and Lady Nadine releases you, you are to go home and give Sally as much oral and digital sex as she wishes. She may not give you release, but you may masturbate. Understood?"

"Yes, Master." The phone went dead.

"Mistress, Master directs me to convey his respects to you and to tell you that he is on his way here."

"Good... Doula."

"Got to get back," said Dr Waston. "Call me or Anil Singh if you need--" and she finished the sentence as she left.

Lady Nadine gestured Valerie to stand with her, hold her. Valerie grasped her tightly.

Valerie could not tell when Nadine said, "Call... Helen!"

Valerie called Helen Waston. Dr. Waston took a look. "Not long now. Is Charles coming?"

"On the way, Doctor," said Valerie.

*************************************

Charles Vanquil walked into the birthing room. Though he obviously had not slept, he was freshly shaven, and he wore his Gieves & Hawkes suit and Turnbull & Asser shirt and tie as if he were going to a business meeting. "Good morning, dearest. Hi Helen, how's trade? Valerie, is all well?"

Lady Nadine said, "It... Really... Hurts."

Dr Waston said, "Oh, there he is. Now push. Breathe into the contractions and push. Push."

In the dim light, the little head pushed its way through. They lost all track of time, all remembrance of the hours, as Charles Arthur Jameson ("Chip") Vanquil II emerged.

The pulsing birth cord, slowly throbbing and subsiding, finally being separated from mother and son. Chip Vanquil's first extra-uterine statement: "Aaaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaaa!!"

Lady Nadine whispered, "That voice! I know that voice! I will always know that voice! I will kill for that voice!" echoing a mother's cry from the Olduvai Gorge down throughout the millennia. In a nearly-strangled voice, Lady Nadine said, "Broke the curse! I broke the curse!"

Charles Arthur Jameson Vanquil the First took his son in his arms. He looked at the red-faced, cone-headed bundle and said, "Oh welcome, my baby, welcome. I don't know you at all; I don't know what makes you laugh or cry, what your politics are, or your religion, if you have one; I don't know what sports you like, what work you will do, what books you like, what music you love, if you love it at all, whether you're straight or gay or a little of both; whether you're intelligent or slow, whether you like me or not--I only know that I love you beyond any love I ever felt for anyone before." And Master Charles Vanquil actually, for one brief second, cried.

Valerie whispered, "Master, permission to speak."

"Certainly, Valerie. You did well."

"Thank you, Master. Mistress, you broke it. Mistress, you are wonderful and deserve every happiness." She kissed Lady Nadine's forehead, then wiped the sweat away.

"Master, I love you more than ever." She kissed his hand.

Valerie looked at Chip, now nursing at Lady Nadine's breast. Valerie admired the strong blue veins. The aureole and nipple were firmly held in the tiny lips. Valerie repeated what she had said in the dawn, "Happy Birthday, little Master. May I kiss his foot, Master, to show my submission?"

"Of course. My dear?"

"Oh yes!"

Valerie carefully, gently, moved the blanket and kissed Chip's foot.

Lady Nadine smiled and said, "Good doula, my sister."

******************************************

Valerie was staggering as she walked into the house, up the tree-lined path from the road where the taxi (Ralph again) had left her. It had been a long day and night and day. Sally was lying on the living room sofa, naked. It was a warm late September afternoon. Valerie kissed her.

"Mistress is doing fine, and baby Chip is lovely. Master says I can do you, anything you want, but I've got to get some sleep, sweetest. Then we can." She kissed Sally's abdomen. "Hi, baby, Mommy loves you."

"Do you need anything, Mistress?"

"Only your delicious cunt, but I'm so tired. Soon, dearest." Valerie dropped her backpack, walked into the bedroom and, still wearing her shoes and coverall, fell face down on the bed.

Copyright Notice - The foregoing is a "derivative work", as that term is defined in Title 17 United States Code §101. The characters named Nadine Vanquil, Charles Vanquil, Valerie Burbon, Sally Thatcher, Francine Traline, Dr Helen Waston, June, Herman, George Falstaf, Mary and Xavier, the place named the mansion or residence of Charles Vanquil and Nadine Vanquil, the place named the home or residence of Valerie Burbon and Sally Thatcher, the entity or business known as Delgrasi Publications, and the publication known as Mastering Magazine, are all derived from literary works or productions copyrighted by dweaver999 (all the foregoing named characters, places, entity, business, and works and productions are hereinafter collectively the "dweaver999 products"), are the property of dweaver999, and all rights in and to any or all thereof, are copyrighted and reserved to dweaver999, pursuant to the provisions of Title 17 of the United States Code, and the Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works, signed at Berne, Switzerland, on September 9, 1886, and all acts, protocols, and revisions thereto (said Convention, acts, protocols and revisions are hereinafter collectively the "Berne Convention"). The balance of the foregoing, exclusive of the dweaver999 products, is copyrighted, and all rights reserved in like manner, by estragon, pursuant to said Title 17 of the United States Code and the Berne Convention. No part of the foregoing may be reproduced or distributed in any form, whether or not for profit, without the express prior written consent of both dweaver999 and estragon. The foregoing is published by estragon under one single license from dweaver999, for this publication and for no other. All brand names and trademarks, trade dress of any description, or materials copyrighted or otherwise legally-protected incidentally referred to in the foregoing, are the property of the respective holders thereof. The publication of the foregoing, and the references hereinabove, do not create any principal-agent relationship, partnership or joint venture between dweaver999 and estragon, other than as licensor-licensee to the extent herein set forth and not otherwise, and none should be implied; neither has any authority to act for the other, except as may be specified by separate written agreement and signed by each of them in each instance. This publication neither creates nor evidences any assignment of any copyright reserved herein or elsewhere by any party. Any reference to any person living or dead, or to any actual acts, transactions or occurrences, is purely coincidental, except as to public figures or institutions. In respect of all such public figures or institutions a qualified Federal and State Constitutional privilege is hereby asserted. The foregoing is not, and should not be used as, legal or tax advice. Pursuant to 31 CFR §10.0 et seq., the foregoing is not intended, and cannot be used, to avoid any penalty. The foregoing does not create or evidence any client-attorney relationship.

Phew!

Now may I have a vote or two, please, and a few comments.