Clarissa is inarticulate, Lucy applies her hands

Lucy looked down at Clarissa's face, wet from Lucy's own female spunk, her green eyes wide and yearning.

"What do you want?" Lucy asked.

"Please, Lucieeeeeee," Clarissa whined. "Please."

"Here, you," Lucy said briskly. She cupped Clarissa's red-bushed mound with one hand and plunged the fingers of her other between Clarissa's feminine lips. Clarissa was wet and open, slick with her own and Edmund's juices. Lucy's fingers operated like a reciprocating piston, as Lady Catherine had sometimes called for.

Clarissa mewed with the sensations. She raised her knees and lifted her feet high up. "Yesyesyesyesyes," she hissed.

Lucy gripped Clarissa's mound firmly, holding Clarissa in place so her stiffened fingers could work quickly and smoothly in and out. Lucy's thrusting fingers made squishing sounds, loud in the rigid-walled little airship storeroom.

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," Clarissa chanted.

Lucy angled her thrusting hand so that her thumb struck Clarissa's swollen pearl.

Clarissa cried out, "Eeeeeeeee!" Her head and shoulders curled up off the cot. Her great toes snapped spasmodically against their neighbours, their dull sounds adding rhythm to Clarissa's song of carnal release.

Clarissa let her legs and head fall back to the bed like a puppet with her strings cut. She gazed at Lucy, glassy-eyed.

"Oh, you are the mistress of Sapphists, Lucy," Clarissa said. "I knew when Lady Catherine willed you her ebony box, that you were her anointed successor."

Lucy bit her lip, irritated. "Nonsense," she said. "Lady Catherine was a Sapphist, but she was just as wanton for Lord Jeremy." Lucy's father, as all now knew. "I served Lady Catherine's pleasures because her hands were ached too much to play herself. It was thanks, no more. Go to sleep."

"I knew when you mounted me for your pleasure, Lucy, I knew," Clarissa said. "You say you are Edmund's lover, but your passions rise for me."

Lucy sighed impatiently. She had meant to mollify Clarissa by ensuring that Edmund covered her as often as he could, and with the help of Providence, to perhaps get a boy on her to be the male heir for Old Netherwood. But Lucy had let her anger and lust get the better of her. She had taken Clarissa twice, using the strength of her body to grind out a spend, first with cunts together, then by riding atop Clarissa's face. And now Clarissa thought Lucy desired her.

"Lucy, don't turn away," Clarissa pleaded.

Was this, then, the price of being Edmund's lover? That Lady Clarissa should be in Lucy's bed, begging not just for her Sapphic attentions, but for Lucy's affection?

"Clarissa," Lucy said. "We must sleep. Tomorrow we see the girls off. We cannot look like we slept not at all."

"Oh," Clarissa said.

"This cot is not big enough for us both to sleep on," Lucy said. "Go to your room. You have a soft bed waiting and a day to see to."

Clarissa sniffled. But she donned and straightened her nightshirt and put her wrapper over her shoulders.

"Lucy," Clarissa said.

"Go," Lucy said.

Clarissa grasped Lucy's hand in her own. Clarissa's grasp was tight, her flesh soft, warm and moist on Lucy's.