Assholes and Our Souls

We stayed to watch as the poor girl was brought out of the town jail and hanged. It was a most pitiable scene, and I could hardly bring myself to look as they dragged her to the gallows in the town square. Eric, however, was very interested, and watched avidly as they executed the girl. The crowd cheered loudly as the executioner kicked away the stool the poor thing was made to stand on.

Eric seemed a lot more cheerful than he had been for some time as we drove home to Stanley Hall in the carriage.

The following day, Eric came and found me as I sat in the reading room studying my new dictionary.

"I have a favour to ask of you," he said. "I have been doing a lot of thinking recently, and I have realised that the way I have treated Tabitha has been quite atrocious."

"Oh Eric," I sighed, my heart being melted by this conciliatory attitude I had never seem from him before.

"I want to be reconciled to her. I know you and her have not always seen eye-to-eye..."

I began to protest that this was not entirely true, but he held up his hand to indicate I should not speak, so I remained quiet.

Eric continued "...but I want you to assist in that reconciliation. So, I want you to take something to her from me, a present." He took something shiny from his waistcoat pocket and held it up in front of my face. It was a necklace, a very ornate gold chain with red gemstones, rubies. I gasped with surprise as I had rarely seen jewellery so beautiful. "This was my mother's. I want Tabitha to have it, and I need you to take it to her. Take it."

I was scared to touch the necklace as it looked so precious. Eric thrust it into my hand. I marvelled at the beautiful jewels. "Put it in your purse, keep it hidden, don't let anyone see it. When Tabitha goes to draw my bath after dinner, you are to take it to her room and hide it under her pillow. Now, I want to send her a note too, get a pen and ink and some note paper."

I hid the necklace in my purse, then went to the writing desk in the drawing room and fetched pen, ink and paper as he instructed. I went back to the reading room. Eric was sat in a wing back chair, looking thoughtful and intelligent.

"Take a dictation," he ordered me curtly. I sat at the table, dipped the pen in the ink pot and began to write down the words he slowly spoke to me. "Dearest Tabitha, You know I have always loved you but I have not always been able to show it due to our circumstances. I am so sorry for the torment you have experienced while here. I hope giving you this gift will recompense you slightly for what you have endured. With all my love. E S."

He took the note from me and read it, nodding his head thoughtfully. "Perfect," he said. He ran his finger over the page. "Oops, I smudged it. Still, never mind. Take this and the necklace and hide it under Tabitha's pillow tonight at half past eight."

I took the note, he had smudged the initials slightly, but I blew on the ink to dry it out, then folded up the paper and put it in my purse along with the necklace.

That evening, I dined with Eric and his father, Lord Stanley. Tabitha was no longer welcome to eat with the masters of the house in the main dining room, so took her meals in the servant quarters below stairs. Their were currently no guests staying at Stanley Hall, so it was only the three of us for dinner, waited on by Watkins, the valet.

We ate roasted quail with winter greens. The food was overcooked and tasteless. Lord Stanley drank too much claret and talked incessantly about bird liming.

Eric was in a very jovial mood. When he had finished the stilton and biscuits he was in the habit of eating after his main evening meal, he said to the valet: "Go and tell that big-titted bitch to get my bath ready." Watkins nodded and left. Eric turned to me and said "I expect you have something you need to do. You are excused, I shall see you later on."

I nodded meekly and stood up from the table.

"Another thing about using lime is that it's much cheaper," rambled Lord Stanley to anyone who would listen.

I quickly left and returned to my room. The clock struck for half past the hour as I went up the stairs. I retrieved my purse which contained the necklace and the note from the drawer in the bureau of my garret room.

I hurried down the back stairs to where Tabitha's room was. I had never been in there before. It was small and smelled of damp. It was sparsely furnished and neat. The only personal possessions I could see were a few books, clothes and a hairbrush. I took the necklace and the note and hid them both under the pillow of her small single bed. I quickly hurried to the reading room and picked up my copy of 1,001 Arabian Nights. I was pleased to have completed the task Eric had given me without being spotted. I hoped it would be successful in reconciling Tabitha and Eric. As it turned out this hope would be completely dashed very shortly afterwards.

Eric came into the reading room, wearing a dressing gown, pyjamas and slippers. His hair was still damp from the bath. The valet was following closely behind him.

Eric asked me "Did you do it?"

"Yes, as you asked."

"Good. Thank you." Then, Eric turned to the valet and said "Watkins, a valuable item of jewellery, a family heirloom, my late mother's ruby necklace, has gone missing. I believe it has been stolen by one of the help. I want you to make sure no one is in the servants' quarters and send for the police. Keep the servants' quarters locked until the constable arrives here and a thorough search can be made."

"Very good, master Stanley," said the valet and promptly left.

"Eric!" I was shocked and very worried. "What are you doing? Nothing was stolen. You gave that necklace to Tabitha."

"Oh no I didn't," he said with a smirk. "I've not given anything to anyone. And you had better not say anything different when the constable gets here, not unless you want to be implicated in the theft."

"But Eric, you told me to put that necklace in Tabitha's room. If the police find it there, they might think she stole it."

"I jolly well hope so. Who ever is found in possession of the stolen property should be dragged in front of the magistrates and bloody well hanged." He laughed, a horrible, evil laugh.

I didn't know what to say. I was too scared even to scream. My hand went to my mouth and I felt like I was going to faint.

Eric helped himself to a glass of brandy from the decanter that was on the sideboard, then sat down. He smiled at me, and said "Bethany you looked scared. There's no need to worry. There is nothing you can do about Tabitha. And provided you don't say anything stupid when the police get here you will be fine." He laughed again. I ran out of the room in a panic.

I desperately searched the house, looking for Tabitha. I found her along with the rest of the staff huddled in the main entrance hall, unable to return to their quarters and unsure of what was happening.

I hurried over to the large-breasted lady and whispered to her "Tabitha, I must have a word with you."

"Bethany, good evening. What is the matter?" she said pleasantly, smiling at me in a friendly way.

"You are in great danger. You must get away from here as soon as possible."

"I don't understand. How could I be in any danger?"

"Eric is going to have you arrested. You must flee!"

"How could he have me arrested? I've not done anything wrong. I'm not a criminal."

"Please! You must believe me. I know it makes no sense but you must believe me."

But it was too late. The constable arrived at that moment, a gruff, walrus-moustached little man. He made a search of the servants' quarters, accompanied by Eric and the valet. The necklace was presently found. Tabitha denied all knowledge, of course, but her pleas of innocence were ignored in face of the overwhelming circumstantial evidence. She was arrested, the constable manacled her wrists and ankles, and she was taken by coach to the town jail. And I cowardly said nothing. Eric was immensely pleased.

The date for Tabitha's trial was set for the following month. I was in turmoil. I knew she had been wrongly accused and faced a great miscarriage of justice. But I also knew no-one would believe the truth coming from me. No-one would value my testimony more than that of Eric, I being a mere woman and a commoner to boot. I also knew Eric was perfectly capable of implicating me in the crime, and that thought terrified me.

But I knew that Tabitha was facing certain death if I did not speak up. So, the week following her arrest, I went to visit the magistrate who was to be responsible for her trial. He lived in a large townhouse in the centre of Pumpsham. I decided that I must tell him the truth of Tabitha's innocence.

Bartram lapsed into silence and sat staring thoughtfully at the smoke coming from his cigarette for several moments.

"What happened next?" asked Phoebe.

"Well, this magistrate, this justice of the peace, made me do the most appalling things in exchange for hearing my story. He was a pervert and a monster. In fact, what he did to me was worse than any of the humiliations or tortures inflicted on me before by any of the other villains who tormented me in my short, miserable life."

"Oh my goodness, what did he do to you?" asked Phoebe.

"He shat in my cunt," said Bartram.

"He shat in your cunt?" gasped Phoebe.

"Yes," said Bartram gravely. "He shat in my cunt. But I have no time to tell you about it now. I have other business I need to attend to. What days are you working next week?"

"Tuesday, Thursday and Friday," said Phoebe.

"I shall be here on Thursday at two. Then I can finish telling you what happened to me during my time as poor Bethany Sexton."

The following Tuesday, Phoebe found herself working with Katrina. They had a threesome together with a fat sweaty accountant who had a small penis. After the accountant had left, and the girls were making a cup of tea together, Phoebe proudly said "You know, I've been seeing one of your regulars."

"Oh really," said Katrina, sounding annoyed. "Who's that?"

Phoebe, smiling at her colleague's annoyance, replied "A gentleman called Bartram Snargs."

"Oh my days! Bartram! I thought I hadn't seen him for a while. He's bonkers, you know. Harmless, but mad as a box of frogs. Has he told you about his past lives yet?"

"A little bit. He said he was a girl who got whipped and farted on a lot."

"That sounds about right. How many times has he been to see you?" Katrina added three heaped teaspoons of sugar to her mug of tea.

"Three so far, and he said he's coming back on Thursday."

"Bastard!" said Katrina, and Phoebe giggled.

"Is it true he has never had sex?" asked Phoebe.

"Is that what he told you?" said Katrina stirring the sugar in her tea. "I wouldn't believe a word that old kook says, if I was you. And, another word of advice, don't steal anymore of my customers, you naughty bitch!" And with that, Katrina took the hot teaspoon out of her mug and pressed it against the other lady's buttock, making her squeal.

When Bartram returned on Thursday, he brought with him several Snickers bars. He took the wrapper off one of these and pushed it into Phoebe's pussy. He had her hold it inside for several minutes, then had her squeeze it back out onto a paper plate. The two of them then ate the melted confectionary together using wooden forks Bartram had brought with him. He wanted to put a chocolate bar up Phoebe's bum hole as well, but she would not allow this.

Bartram lit a cigarette and continued his story as Phoebe cleaned the melted chocolate out of her twat with a wet-wipe.

The magistrate was a notoriously cruel man called Judge Jefferson, also known as Judge String-'em-up. It was said that he had been the death of more men than the plague. He had tried over ten thousand cases and given the death sentence in every single one. This even included his own nephew, who had been found guilty of indecent behaviour in a public privy with two sailors. Judge Jefferson had sentenced all three to hang. It was this tyrannical madman who now held Tabitha's fate in his cruel grasp. I knocked on the door of the townhouse. To my great surprise, the judge answered the door himself, wearing his robes and black hat. I later found out that the magistrate had sentenced his butler to death the previous week, for overcooking a boiled egg at breakfast time.

"Yes?" he croaked. He was a gaunt, sallow complexioned man with dead fish eyes.

"Oh, your honour, I have come to see you about a case you are due to try. I'm afraid an innocent woman has been falsely accused!"

He looked me up and down, frowning. "An innocent woman?" He seemed confused by the expression, as if it was an oxymoron.

"Yes, a wet nurse by the name of Tabitha. She has been arrested for stealing but she did not do it!"

He stared at me, then rasped "You had better come in. I do not normally see visitors at this hour, but I will make an exception."

"Oh thank you," I said, and followed the magistrate into his chambers.

He showed me to a room on the ground floor. It was cold and dark, and the floor was bare flagstone. The only light came from a small, barred window high up on one wall, and a single candle that stood on a desk next to a pile of papers that appeared to be death warrants. There was a bookshelf with many old dusty tomes, a wooden chair and a bench. He sat on the chair and I perched on the bench. I noticed a number of instruments of torture hanging from hooks on one wall: thumbscrews, iron spiders, choke pears, and all kinds of unpleasant spiked metal devices that made me shudder as I looked at them.

"So, Tabitha has been falsely accused, you say?" the magistrate asked in his slow, raspy voice. "You do know that her accuser is Viscount Stanley."

"I know. He is my employer's son. But he is mistaken, Tabitha did not steal anything."

"She told me the same when I interrogated her yesterday," he hissed. "I do not find her story particularly believable, I must say. But you evidently do. Why?"

"Eric, that is Viscount Stanley, gave her the necklace as a gift to her. But he is jealous of her because of her lover, a stable boy called Duggan."

"I see. So, she is guilty of fornication as well?"

"That's not what I meant!" I squeaked.

"I think this is going to be a very easy case to try. I could tell she was a naughty, roguish woman as soon as I set eyes on her. I will take great pleasure in watching her hang."

"Oh your honour, please no! Please be lenient."

"I did offer her leniency, but she refused to accept my terms." His voice was a hoarse whisper, like a dying man's last breath. "I told her that I would be merciful, and instruct the executioner to make sure the noose broke her neck so she would die instantly, rather than a slow painful strangulation. But she would not fulfil my one condition."

"What was the condition?" I asked fearfully.

"My condition was that on the night before the execution, she was to allow me to defecate on her bosoms. Such a fine pair of boobies I have not seen for some years. How I would enjoy laying a big, steaming turd on them. I was going to force feed myself to guarantee it was a big one. She would not have it, though. She said she would rather die slowly with her dignity in tact."

The depravity of this twisted man made me shudder.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked in a hushed, sinister croak. "It is earl grey, but I drink it with milk."

"No, thank you," I said, recoiling with revulsion. "I want you to reconsider Tabitha's case. She is innocent."

"You keep asserting that, but I see no evidence to support your claims." He spoke with a morbid rhythm that was like nails being hammered into a coffin. "You said yourself that she has taken a lover, and as she is unmarried, that makes her guilty of fornication at least. Whether she took the necklace or not is uncertain, but what I can be sure of is it was found in her possession, and Viscount Stanley has reported it as stolen, so she is unequivocally guilty of receiving stolen goods. And lastly, but most damningly of all, I can see with my own eyes that she is a very lascivious looking woman, with unnecessarily large breasts that can only be meant to stir lustful excitement in others, and as such she is guilty of corrupting public morals, and so she deserves to be put to death!" This final word he spoke sounded like the door of a crypt being slammed shut.

"Oh please no! Please reconsider. Don't allow an innocent woman to die. You mustn't allow this terrible miscarriage of justice."

"You are in no position to tell me what I must or must not do, young lady," the despicable monster croaked. "I could consider clemency in this case. But tell me, what could you do to convince me?"

"I... I do not know, your honour."

"Well, have a think. When you have something you think would be worth offering for this wretched woman's life, then please do let me know. But until then, I shall bid you good day." He stood up from his chair to usher me out of the room.

"Wait! One moment, your honour, please."

"Yes?"

"You said that you wanted to defecate on Tabitha's bosoms. What if I was to allow you to do that on mine instead?"

He looked at me for a few moments, then snorted with disdain and sat back in the chair. "The reason I wanted to honour her big, bouncy breasts by shitting on them is because they are so wonderfully enormous. I had the prison warder make her strip off for me before I interrogated her, so I had a good look at them," his face twisted into an ugly rictus that almost resembled a smile. "But your breasts look small and uninteresting. Hardly worth shitting on at all."

"Please," I begged him.

"Let me see. Take off your gown."

I took off my gown and chemise and stripped down until I was stood in front of the judge in just my bloomers and stockings.

He looked at my bare bosoms, my small but perfectly formed breasts, and sneered. "You're a scrawny little thing, aren't you? Very mediocre titties, too. But take your under things off as well," he growled hoarsely. "I will see you as nude as the day you were born before I make my decision."

Filled with shame, but desperate to try anything that might afford some hope for Tabitha, I took off my bloomers and stockings, put them on the bench with my other clothes, and stood naked in front of him. He looked me over with his cold, dead eyes, pondering my unclothed body. It is indecent for a man to look at a nude woman whom he is not married to, and yet this supposed pillar of society showed not the slightest hint of shame as he stared at me.

I, however, was mortified, ashamed enough for both of us.

"Your face is quite pretty when you blush," he croaked. "It would look even more pretty still if I was to shit on it. Perhaps if you asked me politely to shit on your face, I might consider being lenient to the wench with the big boobs."

"Oh your honour, if that's how it must be, then please do."

"Please do what?"

"Please shit on my face," I squeaked timidly. His face again twisted into a distorted grimace of pleasure when he heard me say this. I felt nauseous at the thought of this vile beast befouling my face with his ordure.

He sighed, then said "No. There is another part of you that I think will make an even prettier toilet bowl. Sit on the bench and spread your legs."

Reluctantly I obeyed, sitting down and parting my thighs to display the flower of my womanhood to him.

He stood up from his chair and slowly walked over to me, then leaned forward to inspect my exposed pudendum.

"Ah yes, such a pretty little cunt will make an ideal chamber pot for me to shit into."

I gasped with horror at the thought of this ogre pooing on the most intimate part of my anatomy.

"If you are to do this, you must promise to let Tabitha go."