The Molly Ch. 11

So many thanks to everyone who's encouraged me to continue this -- the end is in sight, and Edith's story is starting to take its toll on Edna...

*****

And so the weeks went on, as summer turned to autumn.

Edith kept up her attendance at self-defence class, and Charlotte kept up her own somewhat less regularly, but whenever Charlotte was there, Edith would let herself be charmed into accompanying the girl to the Gymnasium club and having another bout of what had soon ceased to be a proper sparring contest. For as soon as Edith accepted that she got more out of submitting to Charlotte than she got out of sparring with her, the wrestling became a mere pretext for the submission.

Edith kept up her sparring practice in private on Sunday evenings, after everyone had gone to bed, re-learning all the lessons she learned in the day. She kept Sunday afternoons for frolicking with Charlotte in the Gymnasium. It flattered Charlotte's vanity to beat Edith, and it suited Edith's need for domination to submit to Charlotte. The weeks went pass in which, time and again, Edith yielded to Charlotte and took her delicious, humiliating punishment, writhing and moaning as Charlotte's dildo impaled her. In the meantime, Edith being the more disciplined learner and being so much more motivated than Charlotte to be able to defend herself, she quickly advanced in every way far beyond Charlotte. In their classes, when they happened to be sparring, Edith won with increasing effortlessness; in their private 'practice' sessions, she found it harder and harder to pretend to lose. Eventually, even Charlotte alluded to it; one afternoon, after she had reduced Edith to a moaning, sated heap on the mat in only a few minutes, she said in a joking tone that had an edge of annoyance, "Come, Hester, couldn't you at least pretend not to want it?"

Edith had only laughed in response. But the following week, at self-defence class, she entered the changing room to find Charlotte deep in conversation with the young, blonde woman who had spoken to Edith on that first afternoon. Charlotte looked up as she entered and smiled at Edith.

"Edith!" she cried. "Come!"

The young woman turned and smiled at Edith rather shyly. Edith went over. Both Charlotte and the young woman were half-dressed.

"Hester, darling," said Charlotte, "I want you to meet Henrietta Bishop. Henrietta, this is Hester Campbell."

"Delighted to meet you," said Henrietta, beaming at Edith through her pince-nez. "We met on the first day, I think, but I didn't manage to catch your name."

"Nor I yours, miss," said Edith, giving a little deferential curtsey.

"Henrietta and I were talking about our little wrestling practices," said Charlotte, her eyes gleaming, "and she would very much like to join us as a sparring partner."

"I see, miss," said Edith, slightly annoyed. Henrietta didn't appear to notice; she was looking at Edith with admiration.

"Oh yes," she said. "It sounds absolutely tremendous. I'm a great believer in physical fitness."

"I think it's a capital idea," said Charlotte, "don't you, my darling?"

Edith looked at them, both smiling at her expectantly.

She didn't want anyone else involved. Just Charlotte. It was private, what they did, and she didn't like the thought of anyone else witnessing her secret weakness, her desire to be mastered.

It's not good to let so many see you with your guard down.

But what could she do? If she said no, she would lose it entirely, this great pressure valve that took away her tensions. On top of which, saying no seemed like running away from a challenge, and she hated doing that. In any case, surely it wouldn't be like the two of them. It would be ordinary sparring.

"We could give it a try, I suppose, miss," she said warily. Henrietta clapped her hands with delight.

A few moments later, when Henrietta had changed and had gone into the hall, Edith, went over to Charlotte.

"Why did you ask her?" she said in a low voice.

"I thought you'd think it was a lovely idea," said Charlotte innocently.

"I said I didn't want to get anyone else involved," said Edith.

"Are you scared we'll beat you?" said Charlotte.

"No," said Edith. "In fact, from now on I shall have to stop letting you win."

Charlotte's face darkened, and Edith realised with inner glee that Charlotte had not at all enjoyed this allusion to what they both knew; that if Edith had not been so fond of submitting, she would defeat Charlotte more often than they let on.

"You'll regret that remark," Charlotte said, and after a moment she added, "You both will."

She turned her back on Edith and finished dressing.

Oh, what have you said now?

We shall have to be careful.

***

During the class, Edith kept an eye on both Henrietta and Charlotte. Henrietta was enthusiastic, but her slender frame was hardly suited to wrestling. Charlotte was a conscientious student but every so often she would throw a cold glance in Edith's direction. Towards the end of class, though, Charlotte's gaze softened and at the end, as they were changing, she came up to Edith smiling.

"Come," she said frankly, "let's be friends."

"I'm sorry for what I said, miss," said Edith.

"It's all right," said Charlotte, "I should have asked you. Shall I un-invite her?"

"No, miss," said Edith, "that would be rude. I'm sure it will be interesting."

And so Henrietta rode to the Gymnasium in their carriage, and before long the three young women were standing in their singlets in the room with the mirrored wall.

Edith had assumed that the presence of Henrietta meant that their sparring practice would be just that, without any of the forfeits and penalties and rules that Charlotte and she used by themselves. But then

Charlotte smiled at Henrietta.

"Now, Henrietta darling," she said, "I must tell you about the special rules that Edith and I use when sparring."

"Ooh, yes," said Henrietta.

Edith's eyes widened and she stared at Charlotte.

"The first fighter to remove an article of another fighter's clothing," said Charlotte, "wins five points. Total removal of another fighter's clothing is worth ten points."

"Delicious," said Henrietta, smiling happily.

"The loser of a bout," Charlotte went on, "must pay a forfeit, which consists of submitting to the winner in a manner the winner dictates."

Henrietta giggled. Edith eyed her. The girl was slender and somewhat gawky, but her arms were not frail and her legs were sinewy. Horse-riding, Edith guessed; that would be how Henrietta Bishop got her exercise.

"Shall we start?" said Charlotte.

"Do let's," said Henrietta, with such school girlish enthusiasm that Edith could have sworn that Charlotte flinched slightly.

They began to spar, Charlotte and Henrietta teaming up on Edith. Edith had decided not to make her usual allowances, but to fight for real, and Charlotte quickly became red in the face and frustrated that Edith wasn't yielding with her usual submissiveness. Within twenty minutes, Edith had removed the top halves of both the other girls' singlets and while Henrietta was flushed and smiling, Charlotte was grumpy and impatient.

"I will defeat you, Hester," Charlotte said, scowling. "I'll defeat you and make you beg."

"Oh, really, Charlotte," said Henrietta, "it's just a bit of fun."

"We can stop if you want, miss," said Edith.

"Never," said Charlotte, and she rushed at Edith. Edith dodged her and caught her around the waist as she did so, shoving her on her belly on the floor. Charlotte gasped, but then as Edith fell on top of her and began to methodically slip Charlotte's drawers down over her plump buttocks, she screamed in impotent rage and pounded the floor.

"Henrietta!" she roared. "Don't stand there gawping, you silly bitch! Help me!"

Henrietta frowned, her arms folded over her chest.

"Charlotte, really," she said, "such language."

Edith uncovered Charlotte's pale buttocks and, as the girl squirmed beneath her, slid the thin fabric down her legs. Charlotte screamed again in frustration. Edith was beginning to enjoy herself.

She mounted Charlotte's nude hips and reached around under the girl's soft, pampered body, her fingers questing into Charlotte's sex. Charlotte moaned and Edith used her other hand to twist Charlotte's head around so as to look over her own left shoulder, then Edith fastened her mouth on Charlotte's.

Charlotte, unable to move, lay sprawled naked on her belly as Edith masturbated her and kissed her, her body squirming and gasping as she helplessly responded to Edith's tongue and fingers. Her breasts were squashed flat beneath her on the mat and she made stifled moans of disgust mingled with desire as Edith fucked her.

Edith glanced up at Henrietta, who watched as her friend was made to submit; Henrietta's lips were parted and she was clearly excited by what she was watching.

Edith felt Charlotte melting in her arms and felt a cold satisfaction in making the posh girl writhe and moan and beg for release. Poor Charlotte was increasingly delirious with arousal and she begged Edith "Oh, Hester, mmmff... fuck me, Hester, oh god, please, oh, you mean to... Oh GOD!"

The last was a strangled squeal as Edith took her other hand away from Charlotte's face and pushed her fingers between Charlotte's plump buttocks. Then Charlotte was spending, helplessly, thrashing her body in Edith's arms, giving muffled screams of rage and ecstasy, as she felt her pussy invaded by Edith's hard, strong fingers and her anus massaged and penetrated with the fingers of Edith's other hand.

Edith worked in silence, the only sound being Charlotte's choked squeals as she made the girl come, deliberately wringing her out, forcing Charlotte to submit in front of her new friend, who from her flushed face was finding the spectacle highly arousing. At last Edith relented and pulled out of Charlotte, then stood up, looking down at the plump girl's prone, heaving, nude form.

"You see, miss," she said quietly, "when I fight to win, I win."

Charlotte gave a loud, sighing moan and rolled over heavily, her face red and wet. She looked up at Edith and almost as quickly averted her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered. "I see. Well done."

In the silence, Edith thought she heard a faint sound, like a slap. She looked up sharply, but there was nobody else in the room.

"Did you hear that?" she said.

"What?" panted Charlotte. "No."

"I thought I heard a sound," Edith said.

"I heard nothing," said Charlotte, pulling herself to her feet and wiping her lank locks of curly hair from her face. She swallowed hard and looked up at Edith, her face serious.

"Hester, you have rendered me good for nothing. Would you do me the honour of cleaning me off in the showers?"

Edith eyed the girl, but Charlotte was merely looking at her meekly, the picture of repentance.

"Certainly, miss," she said, pleased that the balance had been restored in their curious friendship. Charlotte walked from the room, tottering slightly, and they headed for the showers.

In the showers, they stood naked beneath the water and Edith tenderly washed Charlotte. Henrietta stood by under a neighbouring sluice, apparently content to watch, as Edith massaged Charlotte's back and shoulders and cleansed the girl thoroughly, soaping her breasts and rounded belly and plump thighs, and then when Charlotte, smiling, put her arms around Edith's neck and pulled her in for a kiss, Edith accepted it. She couldn't resist glancing over and noting that as she began to stroke Charlotte's breast and reach between her thighs, Henrietta had thrust her hand between her own thighs and was watching with parted lips, blinking, as the water poured over her face.

Edith melted Charlotte's not very firm resistance one more time, but with affection, enjoying Charlotte's eager tongue in her mouth and soft, plump, wet body against her own, and then for a piece de resistance, Edith gently but firmly turned Charlotte around to face the wall and knelt behind her, putting her tongue between Charlotte's buttocks. Charlotte shuddered and purred as Edith tongued her and Henrietta, her hands working frantically at her own crotch and nipples, spent with whimpers, an awed look on her face.

Afterwards, when they were drying off, Edith was thinking hungrily of her Sunday lunchtime treat of smoked salmon and chilled beer when Charlotte said "I'm sorry, Edith darling, but I have another appointment today. I'm afraid I can't treat you to lunch."

Edith glanced up at her, but Charlotte's round face was guileless. She looked apologetic.

"That's all right, miss," she said.

Never mind, she could get a sandwich and tea in a Lyons House.

"It's just dreadfully unfortunate that it was to be today," Charlotte said lightly. "Silly oversight on my part. I'll see that you're compensated next week."

"I'm most grateful, miss," Edith said, as Charlotte and Henrietta pulled on their outer clothes. They were dressed and gone before Edith was, and as Edith finished putting on her skirt and jacket, the light dawned.

Of course.

Edith buttoned up the last button of her jacket, straightened her hat in the mirror, and walked out of the changing room. As she passed down the tiled corridor and through the door into the thickly carpeted hallway, she chewed over what she was sure was the real reason Charlotte wouldn't be giving her lunch.

She'd won.

Edith, not Charlotte, had been the decisive victor, and in a way that left no doubt as to who was the more skilled fighter.

And that wasn't playing the game. The game was that Charlotte won. If the hired girl forgot her place and won a bout, there was no question of Charlotte being the generous hostess. That would be too like they were all just jolly friends together. No, if Edith wanted her lunch, she'd to bloody sing for it, and lose lose bloody lose, every time.

Edith passed through the main door and went out into the noisy hubbub of central London.

It was always the same. If you were poor, you were fucked. If you didn't want to be fucked, you were fucked anyway.

In a foul mood, Edith made her way to the Underground, heading home.

There was always more work to be done.

***

Edith didn't see Charlotte or Henrietta at the next self-defence class, or the next two. At first she thought she'd mortally offended Charlotte, and then she was quite pleased with that idea. Besides which, she had more time to herself to practice the skills she was learning.

Then another Sunday came around and there Charlotte was again, Henrietta by her side, smiling as Edith entered the changing room.

The reason Charlotte was smiling, Edith quickly guessed, was standing right next to the two.

A girl, handsome and dark, but almost freakishly tall, well over six feet, with bruising forearms and hands like hams. Her dark hair was tied in a braid around her head. She had eyebrows that all but met in the middle, a square face and a strapping body in her singlet, and stared at Edith with an unreadable expression.

"Edith!" Charlotte piped. "How lovely to see you!"

"And you too, miss," said Edith, curtseying to her and to Henrietta. "Miss."

"You'll never guess what we've found!" said Charlotte.

"Another sparring partner," said Edith.

Charlotte smiled at her, and Edith caught the glint of triumph in her look.

"Darling Hester," said Charlotte, "I want you to meet Brigid."

Edith glanced at the big girl, who was about her age. The girl's dark face had a flush in it. Edith noticed that she had a mole on her left cheek. The girl's full lips were compressed tightly together. She stared at Edith coldly.

You're fucking joking.

I'm fucking sparring with that?

Can it talk?

"Hullo," said Edith to Brigid, as coolly as she could manage. Brigid nodded at her briefly, looking her up and down with her heavy-lidded brown eyes.

"Brigid would love to try sparring with us," said Henrietta happily.

"Would she now," said Edith.

"Of course she would," purred Charlotte, putting an arm around Brigid and hugging her, or trying to. The stolid girl made no move to hug Charlotte in return, but went on staring at Edith.

"Does she speak at all?" said Edith.

"Of course she does," said Charlotte. "Don't you, my love?" she added, looking up at Brigid, who was more than a head taller than her.

Brigid glanced down at Charlotte, then back to Edith, and nodded.

"So where have you found her?" said Edith, taking off her blouse and bloomers and changing briskly into her singlet, all business, not even caring if anyone spied a momentarily uncovered part of her body.

"She works in the kitchen of a friend," said Charlotte. "She's a dear. She's tremendously interested in physical fitness."

Charlotte smirked, glancing at Edith's neck as Edith buttoned up her singlet.

"Is she, indeed?" said Edith, feeling disinclined to indulge Charlotte. "Where's she from?"

"Where are you from again, my love?" cooed Charlotte.

Brigid mumbled something.

"Didn't quite hear that," said Edith, fixing Brigid with her coldest stare.

Brigid stared back at her, her deep brown eyes large and cool and apparently bottomless.

"The county Galway," she said in a low Irish brogue.

Edith felt a cold prickling on the back of her neck. Not like Kitchener. Not like anyone. She didn't care to analyse it too closely, and then someone called from the door that they were to start, and the women turned and filed into the hall.

But later, as she sparred with Henrietta and watched in the corner of her eye Charlotte being effortlessly flipped onto the mat by the stolid, apparently emotionless Brigid, Edith identified her feeling.

It was fear.

***

They finished their class, Edith as always feeling vaguely guilty for the ease with which she routinely defeated Henrietta, and afterwards Charlotte made a point of gathering them all together for the cab ride to the Gymnasium.

Charlotte chattered gaily all the while, but as the journey went on and Brigid's stony demeanour didn't lighten in the slightest, Edith's sense of foreboding grew and grew.

This Brigid, whatever she was -- she was brought in by Charlotte to punish her, Edith. She was sure of that.

But what did a country girl from Ireland know about this sort of carry-on? This had been between upper-class ladies and, yes, a street girl, but a street girl who'd seen more of the world than most street girls. Was Brigid just there to fright Edith? With her size and bulk? To scare Edith into giving herself up? Surely she wasn't really there to fight?

Because Brigid didn't seem quite normal, but Edith suspected that that was probably on account of her being Irish. You could never tell with the Irish, Edith reckoned. They were stupid, but they were also cunning.

Probably this Brigid had more than a bit of that.

Bide your time. Don't be hasty.

They changed once again into their singlets and gathered in the room with the mirrored wall.

"I propose that we team up," said Charlotte, her eyes gleaming. "Brigid and I versus you, Henrietta, and darling Hester."

"Ooh, yes!" Henrietta cried, clapping her hands with excitement. Edith glanced at Brigid, who seemed uninterested.

Well, fine. If that was how it was going to be, then all that had to happen was that she defeat Brigid and the rest would be plain sailing. And then she could quietly curtsey out of this stupid bloody dance of fake

sparring, which wasn't even helping her get better at fighting. Charlotte and her fancy club could go to hell, and it would be back to practising alone, and no more silly games with these bloody society women.

"That sounds fine," Edith said.

"Excellent," Charlotte said.