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Chapter 11 – Changes in the Crysalis.
Walking, Charlotte found, was problematic with the panties on. Each delicate step she took toward the classroom resulted in the bristles rubbing agonisingly against her mound. She had attempted to shift her hands around her waist to get at least a bit of purchase on the waistband of the panties only to find absolutely no give whatsoever. Her hands remained firmly secured at her sides, helplessly unable to free, or even relieve, the torment imposed on her.
Her breasts were fairing slightly better. The crushing sports bra, while driving the bristles deeply into Charlotte's flesh, also prevented any bounce or movement. Thankfully this lack of movement prevented further irritation of the bristles grinding against her bouncing breasts. Instead the bra inflicted a constant intense pressure beneath which Charlotte's breasts suffered the prickly ministrations of the bristles.
The maid ushered the anguished Charlotte into the classroom for her lesson with Mistress Heinz. The door closed behind her, Charlotte gingerly sat at her desk. Shooting pain wracked her face as the panties ground into her vulnerable flesh against the hard chair. Hastily she attempted to rise from the chair, however with her hands locked to her sides she lost balance, falling back into the chair and quadrupling the shooting pain in her crotch.
A distressed squeal of torment ushered from Charlotte's lips at the pain and tears welled up in her eyes as Mistress Heinz turned from the blackboard to face the anguished girl.
"Now I hope that I won't have to take the strap to you again today Charlotte. I hope that you have abandoned your contrary attitude and will attend to today's lessons. Today we will be reviewing the book I gave you for homework – 'Manners of a lady'. Did you do your homework?"
Charlotte, the pain in her crotch slowly subsiding from agonisingly unbearable back to merely painful, nodded gently. "Yes Mistress."
Unperturbed by the sight of the teary and tormented Charlotte, Mistress Heinz pushed on with the lesson. For hours the tutor had Charlotte recite and recall various rules of social protocol. When is it appropriate to accept a drink from a gentleman at a ball, how does one elegantly and politely refuse a dance, is it appropriate to spend an entire evening with the same dance partner…
On and on the revision and teaching continued, all the while Charlotte sat primly at her desk, avoiding any unwarranted movement that would further grind the bristles into her crotch. Simultaneously her breasts had gradually become two balls of agony; crushed and spiked the pain washed over her in waves. Yet she focused all her attention on the tutor, trying to ignore the ever-increasing pain. She dreaded having to front up to Mr Chambers with any more than the existing seven black spots that she would already have to incur penance for.
Therefore, despite the occasional tear rolling down her face, despite the agonising pain she was suffering she devoted all her intent, all her attention on answering Mistress Heinz's questions correctly.
As the end of the school day approached, Mistress Heinz offered Charlotte her praise: "You've been a very attentive and good girl today Charlotte. As a reward I am giving you a single gold star. You may also spend your afternoon in the playroom. Madeline will accompany you and show you the way."
A gold star! Charlotte's first reaction was that her heart rose in her throat, she felt elated at finally having something go her way. Deep in the background of her mind, drowned out in the cacophony of ongoing pain, Charlie screamed out in anguish. Pointing out just how quickly Mr Campbell's regime of discipline and reward was altering her from a happily active tomboy into a lace and ruffle loving submissive little girl.
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The playroom turned out to fulfil all of Charlie's previously expressed fears. Delicately patterned light-blue wallpaper covered in dancing ballerinas decorated the room. From wall to wall it contained an incomparable collection of toys, dollhouses, soft toys, dolls and every conceivable pursuit for a little girl. A pink rocking horse stood in one corner, bedecked in ribbons and inviting the attention of any pony-loving child. In another corner stood a miniature wardrobe, whose doors had been left enticingly open; revealing a plethora of doll clothes, shoes, gloves, scarves and accessories. Charlie noticed ironically that many of the doll's clothes resembled those she had been coerced into wearing over the last two days. A child's table sat in the centre of the room, complete with plastic tea set ready for imaginary tea parties with any of the inanimate but numerous inhabitants of the room.
The maid had taken up a chair at the only adult sized table in the room. Here she began reading the latest fashion magazine and indicated that Charlie should amuse herself.
Charlie responded by clearing her throat, and wiggling her restrained hands about. She temporarily turned on her fake charm: "Excuse me Miss Madeline, but how am I meant to do anything while my hands are tied at my sides?"
"Well that's a good question Charlotte, so I'll make you a proposition. See the rocking horse in the corner there? If you ride it for Aunty Madeline I'll release your hands?" The maid pointed toward the pink, over-sized rocking horse, complete with ribbons hanging from its harness.
"I think I'd rather not if it's all the same to you." Charlie baulked at the thought of riding the horse, not just at the potential humiliation it would cause her, but at the pain that sitting astride the narrow saddle would surely bring.
"Well then I guess that your hands will stay bound then, might make it a bit hard for you to eat afternoon tea as well." With that Madeline took the lid off a silver platter that had been sitting on the adult sized table awaiting the pair's arrival.
Not having eaten since dinner the previous night Charlie was ravenous. She gazed upon the offered food, fresh grapes, and a half-wheel of her favourite Brie cheese with water crackers and delicate slices of various melons. Her mouth watered, "Please Madeline? I'm so hungry."
"Ride the horse."
"No please, that's too much."
"Ride the horse or wait till dinner…"
She began considering the rocking horse. The prospect of having her hands released, so that they might at least provide some relief to her burning crotch and breasts appealed to her. So too did the thought of the delicious food on offer. Was the short-term torment worth it though? Would the maid report her if Charlotte failed to indulge this whim? How would Mr Campbell react? She approached the horse slowly, weighing up the dreadful options confronting her.
"That's it sweetie, ride the nice little horsy for Aunty Madeline." Charlotte looked back to see the masochistic maid's eyes brimming with anticipation of the self inflicted agony she was about to cause herself. She'd made up her mind: 'just a little bit of pain and everything will get better…'
Facing the horse again she gently swung her leg and skirts over the saddle of the rocking horse and found that her feet could only just touch the ground if she stood a-tip-toe. The unforgiving saddle brought the bristles into play again, grinding against her already tormented mound.
"Now be a good girl and rock back and forward for your Aunty."
Charlotte, a tear rolling down her cheek from the renewed punishment, gently rocked her body forward. The horse responded and began rocking back and forward. The narrow saddle and the bristles ground further and further into her vagina, the seesawing saddle now attacking her delicate clitoris, now her naked labia, constantly grinding and stabbing thousands of small pain receptors. The pain wracked her entire body and uncontrollably she began to cry as her poor delicate vagina was so brutally assaulted.
The maid sat at the table looking on the pigtailed school girl rocking back and forth while tears streamed down her face, the maid returned her gaze with a perverse look of lust in her eyes.
The ordeal continued, the bristles continued to grind as Charlotte looked up pleadingly, begging to be allowed to stop riding the horse. The maid simply sat there soaking up Charlotte's anguish, watching every pained gyration of the girl and horse.
The maid now stood and approached the horse, "Does it hurt my little Charlotte?"
"Yes, it hurts…" Charlotte wracked with pain, sobbed as she answered.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Down there, in my pussy." The tears continuing to stream down her face as the unrelenting motion of the horse continued its wicked work.
"Now that's not a very nice word for a little girl to know – don't you mean your cunny?"
"Yes, my cunny, it hurts there, please can I stop now."
"Almost my little sweetie, first you have to tell Aunty where else it hurts."
"My titties aunty, my titties and my cunny, they hurt oh they hurt - please make it stop…"
"Just a little more my darling…" The sadistic maid pushed the horse a little further, increasing the rocking motion further. Charlotte's sobs reached a crescendo as she begged for release.
Finally the maid slowed the motion of the horse and assisted Charlotte off the saddle. As she helped the girl from the horse and began unlocking her wrists from her sides she whispered to Charlotte, "Good girl – you're a very good girl, I think you deserve a star for being so brave. Master Campbell will be so very happy with you for being such a good girl."
Her hands released Charlotte immediately tried to pull panties down and the infernal bristles away from the punished flesh between her legs. The maid forbade her from removing them completely, but did allow her to prise the wedged panties out of her crotch and thus provide her with some small relief.
Still in pain, but much relieved that her seemingly endless ordeal on the horse was over, Charlotte allowed the maid to seat her at the little table in the middle of the room and enjoy the delicious afternoon tea of fruit and cheese. The maid joined her in the centre of the room and throughout the improvised tea party praised Charlotte for being such a good well-behaved and polite little girl.
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