The Molly Ch. 15

With which we finally reach the end of the story of Edith and Edna.

Hope you liked it. You guys are stars for reading, and the only bigger stars are the literotica team for handling my enormous files with such aplomb. Thank you.

*****

Edith stopped talking. Her face in the firelight was pale, tired and sad.

Edna stared at her.

"I warned you, love," Edith said quietly. "I told you I done terrible things."

"You warned me," Edna said, and looked away.

After a moment Edna got up and walked out of the shack. The moon was high. She walked down to the shoreline and listened to the sea.

Of course, she'd had to know. Not knowing had been too hard. She'd begged to hear it. She'd been held in the grip of Edith's tale. The more she heard of it, the less its heroine had resembled this gentle, kind, quiet young woman. Who was Edith? The lovely girl she knew, or the determined, implacable avenger she had heard of? Could that girl be capable of love, with such anger in her heart? Such perversity?

The things Edith said she had done made Edna chill with horror. Telling lies, over and over again, even to the ones who were kindest to her, who showed her love.

Coolly breaking a man's finger. Stabbing him in the hand. Setting a house on fire.

Beating a man so hard she damaged his brain.

Edith had showed her the news clipping, about how Mr J.K. Stephen, noted writer and former tutor to the late HRH Prince Albert Victor, had sustained a serious head injury in an 'accident' at his house. He'd lived in constant pain and mental torment for only a few more years, before starving himself to death in a mental hospital aged 33, only twenty days after his beloved Eddy had died of influenza.

And then, beyond that, there was Edith's love of . . . of a practice that Edna could only conceive as unspeakably degrading, humiliating. Edith had talked about it coolly and factually and had admitted that it was the most satisfying way she knew of to make love. But when Edna shut her eyes and tried to imagine Edith doing it, it was to envision the calm, strong girl she knew abandoning herself to something that robbed her of all dignity, all femininity.

Edna closed her eyes and saw Edith, naked, face down, groaning with lust as a man entered her in that most forbidden way, and the thought made her shudder.

She forced herself to think of it. What could Edith possibly enjoy in it? What of humiliation and abasement could afford pleasure to anyone? What was it like? Why did it transport Edith so, to be robbed of her dignity? It was an insult to her. It was an insult to all womanhood.

She turned around and walked slowly back to the shack.

She half-expected to find that Edith had gone, had lit out on her, like she had done on her previous life. But the girl was still there, still staring sadly into the fire.

Edna stood in the doorway, tense. It took a long time for Edith to notice her and when she did, the hopeful

smile that broke over her face faded immediately at the sight of Edna's steady, unsmiling expression.

"Now you know," said Edith.

"It would seem that I do," said Edna.

"I've hurt people," said Edith. "And there's been times I've enjoyed it."

"That is what I find hardest to understand," said Edna.

"That I've hurt people?" said Edith. "Or that I sometimes enjoyed it?"

"Both," said Edna. Edith stared at Edna.

"Oh, Edna," she said, frowning, "don't come that with me! You think you've never hurt people? You've never wanted to strike someone?"

"I've never made the effort to hurt people!" said Edna. "If I've hurt people by my actions - why, it was nothing but a consequence of what I had to do to protect myself."

Edith looked at her with scorn.

"That's what everyone says who isn't a monster," said Edith. "What did you think I was doing?"

"But, Edith!" cried Edna. "To stab a man in the hand? To club a man into half insensibility?"

"You call them men!" Edith shouted, standing up. "I call them monsters! They'd have killed me, and I spared them!"

"After you toyed with them! What manner of person are you?" Edna's throat was tight and she hated this,

she hated fighting with Edith, but her feelings were boiling over - love, revulsion, fear, lust, pity, she felt them all at once. But Edith's face darkened, and she seemed to contract, physically, her hands becoming fists, her eyes glaring.

"What 'manner of person'?!" Edith screamed, her rage overcoming her. "What manner of person? An East End whore is what I am, Edna! A pervert! A madwoman! I almost killed a man! This is who I am, Edna! This is the trollop who's been fucking you! Remember what the man said about me? I 'ave no shame! If I 'ad shame I would 'ave died of it a long time ago!"

Edna recoiled.

Edith turned her back on Edna and put her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook.

Edna's pity got the better of her other emotions, and she took a step forward.

"Edith," she said, "do not be sad. In time, you will rise above your old life."

For a moment, Edith didn't move. Then she slowly turned around, and her expression chilled Edna.

"What 'old life'?" she said, in a soft, dangerous voice. "This is my life. I 'ave no new one."

"But you are in America now," said Edna. "You can start afresh."

Edith stared at her.

"Why d'you think so?" she said. "You couldn't."

Edna gasped. It was as if Edith had physically struck her.

Edith, seeing that her words had hit home, walked forwards.

"Don't you think of them, Edna?" she said, her cold blue eyes gleaming. "Those children you left. Cause you left them. You abandoned them. You walked naked into the sea. They think you killed yourself sooner than be with them. At least I said some goodbyes."

"Why would you say this to me?" Edna stammered, her eyes filling with tears.

"Because it's the truth," said Edith. She paused, and dropped her eyes, as if sensing that she was being too cruel. Edna turned away and wiped her own eyes.

Then Edith spoke again, softer.

"It's been lovely, our little time together, annit? In our little shack away from the world. But we can't be together if we don't tell the truth to each other. An' I'm not always friendly and lovely. An' Stephen was right. I don't give easily. You've noticed that. But you've not once tried to make me give myself to you."

Edna glanced at her. Edith was looking at her, and Edna understood.

"I cannot do it," she said.

"You could," said Edith, implacable. "You've never known it."

"Oh, Edith," said Edna with horror, "I could not!"

"Couldn't you?" said Edith, walking towards her, smiling in that way that chilled Edna.

"You would force me?" cried Edna.

"You don't run away," observed Edith.

Edna backed away, circling around the shack.

"I would fight to defend that," she said passionately. "Edith, it is too much! Do not ask me to join you in that!"

"Then defend yourself, my love," Edith hissed, "because I've given you everything I have. And now you owe me."

Edna's eyes opened wide and then Edith sprang at her.

They landed together on the bed, tangled in each other, Edith in her man's shirt and breeches, Edna in a thin cotton dress and a slip. Edna was heavier and Edith more skilled, but Edna was outraged, furious at what Edith demanded of her. She scratched and bit Edith, who yelped and squealed as she fought to contain the bigger girl.

Edna hauled at Edith's clothes and tore them, ripping the buttons off the shirt. She pulled at it, stripping Edith above the waist; the shirt fell to the floor. Edith got Edna on her back and smiled down at her; Edna got a hand free and slapped Edith's face hard, twice. Edith blinked, blood on her mouth, and she smiled down at Edna like a demon.

"I will 'ave you, Edna," she lisped, spitting a drop of blood from her mouth. "I will make you surrender."

"You will do no such thing," Edna grated, and flung Edith off her. The English girl crashed to the dirt floor

and gasped.

Edna rolled over and got on all fours, but then, to her shock and panic, Edith rose up from the floor and grabbed the fabric of her dress and slip and pulled them up over her head and arms, trapping her arms. Edna's only other garment was her drawers, and as she struggled to pull the dress and slip down, Edith's weight crashed onto her from above and her hands and knees gave.

Edna sprawled, face down on the bed, Edith on top of her, Edith's legs trapping her head - and Edith slowly peeled Edna's drawers down over her hips, taking away Edna's last protection.

"NO!" Edna screamed, muffled by the sheets and her dress and slip, but then, shockingly, she felt Edith's fingers in her groin - and, oh god, in the deep cleft of her own buttocks, Edith's probing, mocking tongue.

"NOO!" she wailed again, but Edith's fingers were expertly stroking her, making the feeling tingle in her loins, and the tongue behind her was terrifyingly close to the place Edna had sworn to defend.

Edna thrashed her body frantically, cursing the easy life that had left her soft and curvaceous, instead of lean and hard like Edith.

Edith grabbed her, and swivelled easily on top of her. Edna tried to get up and then she felt her upper body being lifted up, the dress and slip still trapping her arms around her head, still blinded, naked from the neck down, until she had to kneel on the bed, her arms trapped over her head, her heavy breasts hanging before her, knowing that all her body below her head was exposed, the fabric still enwrapping her head and arms in a hot, stifling bag; Edith behind her, holding the improvised bag in place, her other, strong arm wrapped around Edna's soft, trembling torso, stroking her between her thighs.

Edna whimpered, hanging there. She had never before been naked, blindfolded and vulnerable.

Edith was this, she thought, her heart pounding. She knows what this is like, she knows how terrifying this is. Yet she would put me through this?

"You defended yourself," Edith murmured.

"Please," Edna whimpered, "oh . . . please . . ."

"But now it's time to surrender, love," Edith breathed, taking her slippery fingers away from Edna's

moist vagina and slipping them between Edna's plump, deep buttocks. Edna moaned in horror and arched her back away from Edith.

"Relax," Edith breathed, and kissed Edna's bare shoulder.

"Do not take me there," Edna moaned.

"Beg me," said Edith.

"No!" Edna wept. The fingertips touched Edna deep, brushing the tight bud of her hole. She shuddered and her heavy breasts quivered in the dim firelight.

"Come on," Edith whispered.

Edna hung there, naked, helpless, whimpering.

Edith's arms held her, close and strong. Edith knelt behind her, her bare breasts against Edna's back.

"Oh, please . . ." Edna sobbed.

"Yes," Edith said, in her ear.

"I am not ready, Edith, please . . ."

"No-one ever is," said Edith.

"You have won," Edna moaned, "you have mastered me, please, let us leave it, I cannot do it . . ."

Edith's fingers pressed gently at the hole, and Edna shuddered.

"It's just a part of your body, love," said Edith.

Edna's fingers massaged her, and Edith felt all her terror, her panic, concentrated in the tight little squeeze of that muscle, as if to break it would make her fall apart. She trembled violently.

"What are you scared of," asked Edith quietly.

"The shame," Edna sobbed.

"The shame of what?"

"Of . . . of surrender," Edna said. The darkness and blindness of the cloth over her face somehow made it

easier to say, the fact that she couldn't see Edith, couldn't see anything.

"Surrendering what?" said Edith.

"I don't know. My dignity."

"I just want to play with it," Edith said, a smile in her voice. "You'll have it back when I'm finished."

"What you want to do to me," Edna stammered, "is . . . oooh . . . is unnatural."

"What's natural?" said Edith. "Giving up what you want to be a nice New Orleans wife and mother?"

Edna whimpered again, as Edith continued to massage her, and she felt herself loosening, and with a sick feeling of dread and elation, like being at the top of a steep icy hill, she shuddered in Edith's arms.

"Oh God, Edith," she breathed, "take me . . ."

It left her mouth like an apology.

Edna stiffened as Edith's slippery middle finger pressed at her hole, and then she gulped as she felt it push,

and as it parted the muscle and went in her, she squealed.

"UuuUUUUHHHHhhh!"

"That's my girl," Edith sighed, and Edna submitted, her tense body slackening with relief and humiliation as

Edith penetrated her arse.

Edith pulled the dress and slip off Edna, freeing her head and arms, but then flung her, naked, down on her face.

Edna lay there, her curly dark hair hiding her shameful, relieved tears, and gulped and moaned as Edith buggered her with a finger, her soft body shaking beneath Edith, the old bed squeaking as Edith pumped her.

Edith kept her fingers inside Edna and shucked off her own breeches, then sat astride Edna's bare legs in just her knickers, and leaned over and reached around Edna with her other arm, stroking Edna's pubis, touching her, enveloping her, spreading Edith's juices from her front to her rear.

"Oh god," Edna moaned, "y-you're in my . . . in my . . ."

"Yes," Edith whispered. "Say it."

"You're in my behind," Edna whimpered.

"I am," said Edith softly, pushing her finger deeper into Edna's anus.

"Uuuunnhhh . . ." Edna grunted, squirming in Edith's arms, "oh God, Edith, it feels so . . . I feel . . . oh God . . . so defiled . . ."

"Now you know, love," Edith cooed. "Now you know."

"Yes . . ." Edna moaned. "Mmmff . . . oh God, my love . . . please . . ."

"Tell me," Edith breathed.

"Fuck me," Edna gasped, the coarse Anglo-Saxon word salty and livid in her mouth. "Fuck me there."

"Where."

"In . . . in my behind . . ."

Edith stroked and pumped harder, inserting a second finger. Naked beneath her, Edna squirmed and whimpered, feeling herself occupied - Edith was filling her up, her tongue at her face, her fingers working at her holes, kneading her, like so much malleable flesh. And Edna could not but yield. She felt herself sinking, sinking into her own flesh, her own blood, becoming animal, letting herself be purely sensual.

"What do you feel like now?" Edith said. "Is this who you are, Edna? A good New Orleans wife and mother?"

"No . . ." Edna moaned. The sensation of Edith enveloping her, occupying her, was overwhelming. She could barely remember her own name. She was a naked body on a bed, being made to feel as she had never felt before. Her whole body was tinglingly alert.

"You're with me now," said Edith, her voice rasping in Edna's ear. "And you know who I am. You know what I've done."

"Oh . . . yes . . ." Edna gasped.

"I want you to know where I've been," said Edith. "I want you to feel it. What do you feel like now, Edna?"

"Like a . . . like a piece of meat . . ." Edna sobbed, her eyes shut, the shame of it burning her, but the pleasure of it scorching her, the pleasure of submitting, of giving herself utterly to Edith.

Edith pushed her face down and Edna felt the English girl's lips touching hers, and her tongue poking into Edna's mouth, and she twisted her head around and their mouths met in a tearful, wild union as Edith took away the last vestiges of Edna's virginity, robbing Edna's body of the last of its sacred spaces, showing Edna that there was nowhere that pleasure could not be had. And Edna, weeping with humiliation and joy, accepted it. A third finger, now, pushing into her. Half of Edith's hand. Edna's hole was stretched. She squealed, muffled, into Edith's mouth. Edna was invading her, reducing her, making her nothing but lust.

"Uuuunnhhh . . ." Edna grunted, "oh God, Edith, I'm, I'm going to . . . . I'm going to s-spend . . .OOOH!"

Edna opened her mouth wide and shut her eyes tight as Edith rode her sweaty, plump, naked hips and kissed her and brought her further on, teasing Edna's flesh, pushing her beyond where she thought she could go, and Edna screamed her delight into the sweaty sheets as she spent.

*

From a deep place of damp bedclothes and sweat and saliva and breath, Edna returned to herself, and whimpered. Edith was still draped across her, breathing heavily, still wearing her drawers. Edna was prone and naked and utterly spent, her body glowing from the punishment Edith had given her.

Her . . . what should she call it? Her pussy. It was swollen and warm. Her anus was pulsing with the throb of her blood. She had never been so utterly dominated and defiled in her life.

Edna let out a long, slow, gasp.

"AAAaaauuhhh . . ."

Edith gave a muffled chuckle.

"Oh, my love," she said sleepily.

"Edith Stanley," Edna croaked. "You have corrupted me utterly."

Edith laughed quietly.

"I went to bed with you a good woman," Edna went on, only half-joking, "and you have turned me."

Edith got off her and jumped to the floor of the shack. She fetched the wine bottle and hopped up on the bed again. Edna, with difficulty, rolled onto one side and lay there, her head propped on one arm, nude, looking up at Edith.

Edith swigged from the wine bottle and grinned merrily.

"You are a devil, Edith," said Edna. "You were put on Earth to tempt us from the ways of righteousness."

"If you say so," said Edith, and she took another swig and passed the bottle to Edna.

Edna looked up at her deliverer, and her heart was full, and her eyes pricked with moisture. She took a gulp

of wine from the bottle and gasped again as its warmth ran down her body.

"I guess I am fallen, then," she said. "Into the depths."

"I reckon you are," said Edith. She had another gulp, and passed the bottle back to Edna.

"I suppose I should be more scared," said Edna, feeling the night air on her own nakedness. "Or more sad. But I'm not."

She took a drink of wine, and thought for a moment, and looked up at Edith.

"Why would that be?" she asked.

Edith looked down at Edna, and she smiled her slow, sad, deep smile, the one that had touched Edna's heart all those months ago, the one that made her seem so much older than only a few years short of thirty.

"It's because I live here," she said to Edna, "and you 'ave me to show you around."

Edna looked back at her.

How far I have come, she thought. Six months ago I was married to a respectable man, with a family, outwardly to be envied. Tonight I lie in the bed of a young woman with a violent and disreputable past, and I'm naked as the day I was born. She and I have no money, no prospects and we live outside society. She has formed my body and my soul to revel in practices that would be unspeakable in the world I came from - unthinkable, even. Moments ago I was letting her use me like the lowest kind of Bowery whore.

Six months ago I was drowning in misery. Tonight . . . am I not happy?

I should be. Should I not?

Edna stiffly raised herself to a sitting position and stretched, groaning. She ran her hands through her damp hair and tossed it out. She picked up the slip that she'd been wearing and examined it.

"This is too long," she said. "I get too hot." She made a few careful rips and carefully tore off the hem. Then, she tore another long strip off it and looked at Edith, not smiling, holding the strip of cloth in her hands.

Edith looked at her. The smile gradually faded from her face.

"What," she said.

Edna stood up and looked into Edith's pale blue eyes. Edith looked back.

"You're angry with me," Edith said.

"Certainly I'm angry with you," said Edna. "Why shouldn't I be?"

Edna laid down the strip of cloth and pulled her ragged slip on, over her head. Then she put the creased and bunched old dress over it. Edith watched her.