Lady Ashcroft makes an observation

“Such a charming little creature,” said Lady Ashcroft, an old school friend of Evelyn’s, and member in good standing of the Reform Club, as she ran her fingers through Fiona’s golden locks. “Why, I almost feel sorry for her. How on earth did you manage to get your hooks into her, Evelyn?”

“Oh, it was dreadfully easy. Like all these little jumped-up upstarts from the lower classes, she has a preposterously high opinion of herself. All I had to do was bait her into a bet she couldn’t possibly win, and her own arrogance and folly took care of the rest.”

“But wasn’t it a matter of a single second?” said Lady Ashcroft, pulling Fiona’s hair as she sensuously ground her wet, succulent sex against the nude, squirming ****-girl’s open mouth. The two old school chums had booked a room upstairs at the Reform Club, one with a big four-poster bed that was eminently suitable for the punishment of naked, trembling losers who ought to know their place. Fiona was tied down to the bed, spread-eagled, head propped up on a pillow, one smug aristocrat sitting on her face while another crouched between her parted legs and made her life interesting with a vibrating ivory rod. “Why, had matters gone ever so slightly differently, you might be down here between my legs right now.”

“I hardly think that’s possible,” said Evelyn, waspishly, and thrust the vibrator home between Fiona’s glistening wet pussy lips, eliciting something between a warble and a muffled shriek from the golden-haired girl. “I’m a member of the British peerage, I’ll have you know. It’s the destiny of natural rulers like me to lord it over squirming little commoners like our pretty pet Fiona. Under no circumstances could I ever find myself in her position. It’s simply inconceivable.”

“But, had she been only one second quicker…”

“Not a chance,” said Evelyn, picking up a long peacock feather and idly flicking it back and forward over Fiona’s quivering sex. “She’s a **** by nature, my dear Lady Ashcroft, just as you and I are natural conquerors.”

“Almost a pity,” said Lady Ashcroft, meditatively. “What a splendid opportunity it would be to get you back for some of those pranks you played on me at school.”

“I was a terror, wasn’t I? Remember the school play? Or how I tricked you into thinking the Prince of Ruthenia wanted your hand in marriage, and you had to wait for him in the village chapel with nothing on but a bridal veil? The look on the vicar’s face when he caught you!”

“I recall the incident well.”

“Or how about the time when I sold you those big puffy harem trousers? I told you they were the latest in emancipated fashion for the modern women. How silly you looked! And they caught in the bicycle chain while you were cycling across the village green, and tore off completely, and of course I’d convinced you that no modern woman would be seen dead in undergarments nowadays.”

“The memory still burns bright, even after all these years.”

“And remember the day I tied you up in the potting shed, and took all your clothes off, and gagged you with your own knickers so you couldn’t call for help, and charged all the boys in the village a shilling a head to come in and see what a naked lady looked like? Gosh, I made ever so much money that day.”

“I have often had occasion to recollect the matter.”

“How you must hate me,” said Lady Evelyn, brightly, pulling the peacock feather away from Fiona’s clit and expertly turning the vibrator off, only half a second before the poor, frustrated blonde might have reached her first orgasm since last month’s garden party. “Fortunately, I’m slightly richer than you are, so you can’t do anything about it. I suggest you let the matter go, and channel your desire for **** into humiliating the poor and deserving.”

“A sensible suggestion,” said Lady Ashcroft, and then all conversation ceased for a while as Fiona’s warm wet tongue began to lap in earnest at her clit, while Evelyn busied herself with clamps and tiny brushes about the wriggling coquette’s body. Finally, after the two smug aristocrats had extracted the maximum amount of sensual pleasure and intellectual satisfaction from the discomfort and abasement of the outraged English rose, they retired to the warm comfort of the Reform Club common room, there to engage in a little light conversation on the political questions of the day.

“And this is the route you took,” said Lady Ashcroft, tracing a circle with her fingertip around a large globe of the world. Evelyn, sitting in a comfortable armchair with her feet up on Fiona’s bare back, glanced up from her newspaper and said “Indeed.”

“How remarkable. A trip around the world. In just sixty-nine days! Of course, the international date line would have made measurement tricky, but I suppose an intelligent woman like you would have accounted for that.”

“The what?” said Evelyn, politely.

“The international date line! Naturally, since you both travelled around the world together, you would have seen sixty-nine sunrises and sunsets. But only sixty-eight would have passed here in London, the fixed point from which we are measuring the duration of the journey.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s perfectly simple. If you didn’t factor the lost day into your count, a situation might theoretically arise where the pair of you were under the mistaken impression that Fiona had travelled around the world in just over sixty-nine days, and thus lost the wager. But, in fact, a more accurate count would demonstrate that she had made the trip in just over sixty-eight days, and thus won. According to Reform Club bylaws, Evelyn as the losing party would then be subject to the prescribed penalty of Hellfire, no matter how much time had passed in between the error and its correction.”

Evelyn’s mouth had opened slightly.

“I don’t think that can possibly be correct,” she said.

“Furthermore,” said Lady Ashcroft, brightly, “since the error was yours, you would be obliged to compensate Fiona for an incorrectly inflicted forfeit. I believe, in the case of Hellfire, you would find yourself obliged to become her personal maidservant for an indefinite period, as well as paying over to her an enormous sum of money. Why, you might find yourself completely broke, and at the mercy of a dirty little commoner who you’d been sadistically abusing for what at this point must be a full calendar year! Good thing you remembered about the international date line, then.”

“Actually,” said Fiona, rising to her feet and dusting herself off, “now that you mention it, I don’t believe either of us thought for even a moment to factor in the international date line. What a silly blunder!”

“Indeed,” said Lady Ashcroft, cheerfully. “But, Fiona, you’ve got no clothes on! How embarrassing! That sort of treatment might be fit for somebody who’s lost a bet, but it would never do for a member in good standing of the Reform Club, who I think we can now safely say is in fact the single greatest heroine and adventuress London has ever seen. Are there any clothes around here that you could be given?”

“Hm,” said Fiona, looking around the room thoughtfully. “I’ve got it. Lady Evelyn, you appear to be fully dressed.”

Evelyn’s mouth still hung open. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Evelyn,” said Lady Ashcroft, helpfully, “don’t you think you should assist Fiona out of her predicament? She does, in effect, legally own you now.”

Evelyn had gone very red in the face. Without a word, she rose from her comfortable armchair and, with every last eye in the Reform Club common room on her, began to undo her black silk dress.

“A trifle too small,” said Fiona, doing up the dress a short time later. She had already donned Evelyn’s bloomers and corset, leaving the voluptuous raven-haired aristocrat to stand naked in the common room before dozens of amused eyes. The posh girl’s high, full breasts, her round pert full-moon bottom, her alabaster thighs and the neat silky triangle of midnight-dark hair between her legs were on display to the most sophisticated ladies in London, many of whom happened to have strong Sapphic inclinations, and were thus loving every moment of it. “But I suppose it will have to do. Lady Evelyn, forfeit one, if you please.”

Lady Evelyn opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. It seemed to take her a considerable effort to **** the words out.

“Fiona,” she said. “I lost. You won.”

“Forfeit two.”

“Fiona. I lost. You won. You are the better woman.”

“Forfeit three.”

“Fiona. I lost. You won. I’m a silly girl and you are my… my superior in every way.”

“Lady Evelyn,” said Lady Ashcroft, hand to her mouth in shock. “Did that filthy little commoner really get the better of you? How appalling! And where on earth are all your clothes? Don’t you know you’re standing naked in front of the whole Reform Club?”

The common room trilled with female laughter at the expense of the glowering, red-faced Lady Evelyn, who was left with **** but to stand there and take it. Cries of “For shame, Lady Evelyn,” and “Always knew she wasn’t quite the thing,” bombarded her ears, as a beaming and modestly-clad Fiona looked her up and down.

“This is going to be ever so much fun, Lady Evelyn,” she said. “For me, I mean. Forfeit one hundred and twelve, if you would be so kind.”