Florisa sat waiting patiently for her thrall to return. As she sat she twirled the locket she had been so recently given between her elegant fingers. Her mind drifted back to the day she received the wonderous gift...
She had been visiting Bavaria and her companion, Mary had been most insistent that they should visit the city of Ingolstadt, she could recall her polite enthusing.
“Charlmagne himself was enraptured with the village, as it was then. To visit the place that resisted the Swedish siege is a must. No lady understands completely until she has been to Ingolstadt. It will educate you in ways you least expect.”
How true and fateful those words had been; for a second Florie’s memory was tinged with regret. A brief insight into the person she had been. She looked at the locket once more; her thought faded and desire grew. Desire to be obedient; a slave to the greater good.
She had been in the city mere hours when it happened, Mary and herself had stopped for luncheon, a pleasant cafe at the side of the Kreuztor. The cafe was busy, but we were well attended to by a brisk Fräulein. However Mary seemed somewhat distracted, and at one point rose to speak to the girl. To that point I had not realised how fluent Mary was in German, indeed it seemed even the local dialect, for much of what she said was a mystery to me. At times I wondered about my companion, but that was foolish. Miss Shelley was so well known of my husband Hector and his family. Mary returned to our table.
“I have secured for us the most wonderful delight!” Mary beamed.
“Oh indeed, and what would this wonderous thing be?” I smiled.
“Tea, the most healthy, life-giving green tea.”
“Green tea? In Bavaria, are you sure of its delights? I have never hear of tea being popular in this region.”
“No it is not, but this tea is a little know local delicacy,” Mary grinned, with some satisfaction, “And I have secured us some.”
“Well, if you are sure?”
“I am more than sure, I am certain. You must taste some.”
I nodded my agreement, and was amazed when Mary clapped her hands with joy and beckoned the Fräulein back to our table.
“Please, Mary! Some decorum. People are looking.” I whispered urgently.
Our order was placed and a few minutes later we were served with the brew.
“Well Florie, don’t just look at it—partake!”
“I was not expecting such a bright shade, but the smell is enticing...”
“And the taste is divine dear Florie, have no fear.” said Mary.
So I drank, and it was indeed divine, I glanced at Mary and my eyes must have revealed my surprise. Her eyes twinkled back at me, with a little more familiarity than I liked. I finished my cup and rose to leave.
“Please pay for me Mary; I feel a touch of the vapours coming on.”
“This bill I cannot pay Florie, come with me, you must pay the owner personally.”
“Ridiculous, claptrap. I have never heard of such a thing. You are my companion, please do as I ask! Such impertinence.”
Mary smiled, “Follow.” She walked very deliberately toward the back of the cafe away from the strasse behind us.
Despite myself I followed, having followed I met my owner and paid my bill in full as it turned out; that too in its way was a true delight...
At this moment Norma returned.
“Well Nony, how did you fare girl?”
“The deed is done, and we have a bonus. A servant girl I managed to enthral with some ease.”
“That does not surprise me; the lower classes lack our fortitude; will she be of use to us?
“She will for she is a curious one, she already had the diary in her possession. I am sure Nancy can help the Daughter’s in their quest.”
“Nancy.... Hmmm, well done Nony. You will be rewarded.”
“Jessie?” said Norma.
Florisa Bellinger held her tongue, she merely smiled.
“Holmes old man! Is it the Fuzzy-Wuzzy’s? Where’s my rifle. Asleep on duty indeed.”
“Calm yourself Brighton, we are in London. The kitchen of 221b.”
“Oh, good lord. I thought I was back in the Sudan for a minute there. Ah, good. safe at home.”
“At home, but not entirely good...” Holmes moved to let Brighton observe Nancy.
“I’ll be jiggered, young Nance has been attacked. Is the rogue still around?”
“It is possible,” Ned nodded toward Hove’s crotch, “If you get my drift?”
“Surely you don’t think I... I would not... Would I,” Brighton paused, a long second passed, “Did I?”
“Knowing you I would say not; did Bellinger have something to do with this?”
“Who old man?” asked Hove.
“Pull yourself together man, before she wakes up. I must know the answer.” snapped Holmes.
“Sorry I am drawing a blank on Bellinger...” Hove’s eyes widened, “There is something.”
“What Hove, spit it out man!”
“Green.” Brighton scowled, “Damnable colour. My eyes full of it. My will...”
“Think, Brighton, recall.”
“I went... Somewhere, but I was sent back... Hard to walk, people staring and sniggering... Then Nancy opened the door.”
“And then!” Holmes egged him on.
“Nothing, just a blank. I am sorry old man. I am jiggered if I know.” Brighton hung his head; tears welled up in his eyes.
Holmes leaned away from him.
Hove could see the pity in his friend’s eyes. Brighton went to speak, his lips moved, but sound would not come. Suddenly Nancy stirred, the diary fell from her mouth as if she were weary of its presence, she withdrew the poker gingerly from her nether regions. Then she saw Holmes, she screamed and desperately tried to cover her modesty.
Brighton got up and rushed to her.
“Gerroff Mr ’Ove, and don’t wave that thing in my face. I have had me fill of that today!”
Brighton stopped mid-stride, his face fell.
“So it was I.” he asked.
“It was your organ stuffed in my mouth, for sure. But another was ’ere.”
“What did they look like?” asked Holmes.
Nance frowned, she struggled to recall.
“Fing is all I can ’member is...”
“Green.” said Holmes.
“’Ow do you know?” her young eyes widened, “It were you weren’t it!”
Emily strode up to the door of the house. She stopped for a second, and composed herself; she raised the large brass ring high and allowed it to swing freely through the jaws of the lion-headed knocker. A resounding thud filled the still afternoon air.
“Good afternoon, can I help you?”
“Are you the Bellinger woman?”
“No I am not, I am Sybil. I think Mrs Bellinger prefers to be called Florisa.”
“I am not here to be civil with the woman, this is about my daughter Jessica and the unsuitability of her relationship with that girl, Norma.”
“I am sure both Florisa and Norma will be happy to put your mind at rest. Would you like to come in?” Sybil held the door open and beckoned the woman in. “May I have your name so I can announce you?”
“I am Mrs Newcombe, Emily Newcombe. I am here about my daughter, Jessica.”
Emily followed Sybil’s trim form through the hallway and toward the drawing room. Sybil threw open the double doors with a flourish. “Florisa, can I announce Mrs Emily Newcombe. She would like to discuss her daughter Jessica with you.” Sybil then turned on her heels and walked away, through the wide open doors.
Mrs Newcombe blinked, “Remarkable, quite remarkable.” she said under her breath.
“She is Mrs Newcombe, but we are not here to talk about Sybil’s habits, are we?” Asked Florie.
“Indeed not, it is the conduct of one of your other wards that concerns me, namely Norma. She has stuck up a relationship with my Jessica, now Jessie is delicate and only of some fourteen summers. Yet the other day I overheard a discussion; Norma was asking Jessie something quite unsuitable.”
“I see, and what was that?”
“I surely do not need to reveal that! As one married woman to another you will appreciate the type of discussion I refer to?” Emily’s voice rose in tone in the end of the sentence.
“If I am to discipline Norma I must know what she is accused of.” Said Florie flatly.
“Really! If I must. Norma was enquiring of Jessica as to the dimensions of her father’s ‘part’.”
“His part, which part? Men in my experience have many parts.” Said Florie with apparent innocence.
“His pego of course. What other part would disturb me so much?” Mrs Newcombe tapped her foot.
“My, how awful, for you. Being disturbed about his pego must be a trial,” Florie rose, and walked to a door in the far wall, “I will call for Norma, so she can apologise to you in person.”
Emily nodded curtly, her foot still tapped. Her reticule swung freely on her left arm.
Norma was duly led in the room, her head bowed, her eyes avoided Emily with a sulky determination.
Florisa spoke, “Norma, I believe you have something to say to Mrs Newcombe?”
“I do.” Finally Norma raised her head and looked Emily right in the eye, “Mrs Newcombe, I am sorry I asked Jessica about Mr Newcombe’s pego.”
“Well, that is a start. Do you realise how wrong you were?”
“And do you regret it?”
“Oh yes, I should have asked Jessie about your quim,” Norma grinned, a devilish grin, “Quims are much more interesting!”
Emily dropped her reticule, her mouth grew wide open.
“Good lord! How dare you, I have never... In all my days...”
Norma butted in, “Have you seen one as appealing as this.” The girl twirled around, slumped bodily into a chair and drew her dress far up to reveal her naked shaven pubes. She then reached down and parted the plump outer lips fully displaying a delicate pink morsel. “Pretty isn’t it, would you like a taste Mrs Newcombe? I know you would.”
Emily squeaked in outrage, her wordless lips worked furiously, finally she spoke.
“Would I do what? You are shameless girl, and you,” she turned to face Florie “Are no more than a brothel keeper. I shall report this to the authorities.”
“As you will,” replied Florie, “But first you will come and service young Norma. She was polite, and you should not scorn her so. Manners are still important, even in the ‘brothel’.”
“You Abbess! I will see you in Tothill Fields I will. Good day!”
Emily turned to leave, but her body rebelled. First she could not move, and then she moved in the opposing direction; toward the explicit display of Norma’s charms. She strained against both the movement and the growing terror in her heart, to no avail. Soon she stood between Norma’s spread legs. She looked anywhere other than at the slick gash before her.
“Now look—it is pretty; all for you, look at my pudenda, Emily.” said Norma.
Emily found herself staring at Norma’s wet folds. As she watched, the slattern dipped her fingers in, pulled herself open and displayed her pearl-like nubbin. Mrs Newcombe felt bile rise into her slender throat.
Norma spoke again, this time her voice trembled. “All for you to tongue-wash for me. Emily kneel!”
Emily knelt; the warm scent of Norma’s desire was unmistakable. Emily tried to think of something other than the wrinkled lips that were now so close to her.
“Lick!” said Florie.
Emily’s tongue extended and circled the solid clitoris, the taste hit her with power. Mrs Newcombe’s saliva ran.
“See how she slobbers for you dear. Emily, suck.” Said Florie.
Emily drew the whole of Norma’s vulva into her mouth. She was appalled at the urgent slurping sounds she emitted; but it was her growing desire that mortified her more. A moment later Norma pushed her groin violently into Mrs Newcombe’s face. Emily’s ears were filled with the ringing scream of Nony’s orgasm. Then her mouth was filled with the girl’s gushing fluids. Mrs Newcombe’s eyes turned heaven-ward and soon only the whites were visible. She convulsed obscenely.
Ned settled Nancy down into one of the more comfortable button back chairs in the Library. He glanced at Brighton. Although he had recovered himself and cleaned his clothes, Hove was still clearly in shock. Holmes walked to the globe on the far side of the library. With practiced ease he touched a few specific locations, the top of the globe clicked and raised a quarter of an inch. Ned swept it fully open to reveal a collection of lead crystal decanters.
“I think a drop of medicinal Brandy may settle us all down.” Said Ned.
“’Ere you are not tryin’ to get me drunk are you?” Asked Nancy.
Holmes turned to face the girl; he smiled indulgently and once again tried reassurance.
“Nancy, I can assure you once again it was not me with the green light and that my intentions towards you are entirely honourable.”
“Shame,” said Nancy under her breath.
“I’m sorry, I did not catch that?”
“I said thank you, Mr ’Olmes.”
Ned cocked an eyebrow.
“Now there are some things that confuse me; why for instance did our interloper break in? It would seem likely it was for the diary; egad, that tome has a lot to answer for.” Holmes mused.
“Sounds right to me.” Said Brighton, as he sipped his brandy from the balloon nestled in his trembling right hand.
“So why leave it here? And why in Nancy’s mouth? A conundrum for sure...”
“Well, I can’t get the taste out of my mouth.” Nancy winced, “Of the diary not...” She looked at Brighton and blushed. Her eyes fell, she stared at the floor.
Brighton for his part straightened his waistcoat. Suddenly he perked Up. “Unless of course it was not the intruder whom took the diary to the kitchen.”
Holmes cocked his head, his eyes moved between Brighton and Nancy repeatedly, “Unless it was not the intruder...” Ned took a swig of his brandy. His eyes narrowed and he focussed exclusively on Nancy. “Luncheon!”
Nancy jumped at the violence of Ned’s exclamation. She settled Slightly. “Well cook is not ’ere. I can try but ain’t it too late for luncheon?”
“No girl, you came in here and asked me about luncheon,” Ned swallowed another swig of brandy, “After you left... I don’t recall seeing the diary on my desk.” His eye bored into Nancy.
“Mr ’Ove, I don’t like the way what ’e is lookin’ at me.”
“Nancy,” Brighton asked tenderly, “All Ned wants to know is, if it was you that took the diary?”
Nancy paled, “I didn’t take no diary!” her eyes searched Hove’s face, “It may have fallen in my apron pocket; by accident like.”
Ned rushed up to her, “I suppose then you may have—accidentally read it?”
“That must have something to do with Cook’s distraught state.” Holmes picked up a pipe, packed and lit it. “Tell me Nance, did the diary affect you?” Holmes lent forward and grasped Nancy’s chin, he lifted her head up, “Excite you!”
“I say, Holmes that is a bit near the knuckle. Poor Nance has just been assaulted.” said Hove.
“Or was it a self-assault, well my girl?” Holmes puffed wildly at his pipe. “Did your fingers get wet? Did you touch the pages?”
Nancy burst into floods of tears.
Brighton swung a supportive arm around the girl, “I say, enough! Can you not see you are upsetting her?”
“Pah, I know where logic takes me.” Stated Holmes.
Brighton took a step forward.
“No!” Screamed Nancy, “No, ’e right. Mr ’Olmes is right.”
Florie gazed at the delightful scene before her with great satisfaction.
Mrs Newcombe still lapped away, merrily engrossed as she now was in Nony’s damp groin. Nony for her part climbed gaily toward her third orgasm. It was a scene of bliss, daughterly giving...
With that thought Florisa’s eyes narrowed, and a warped smile curved her lips. Now with a purpose, she crossed to her desk and slid open a drawer. From a rack of similar jewellery she chose a platinum ring, a delicate piece, the mounting held three modest gems of jade-like quality. She took the selected ring and slipped it on the little finger of Emily’s left hand. Emily seemed blissfully unaware, she simply keep to her assigned task without even missing a single beat with her trembling tongue.
The ring in place, Florie walked back to the drawer and selected a brooch. She then walked from the room and passed the brooch to Sybil. Florisa uttered a few quiet words to her ward. Sybil’s eyes widened at the request, but she did not argue, she simply scurried away. As Florie returned, Nony screamed out and buckled on the wet chair.
Smiling Florisa walked up behind Emily, she bent down beside her bobbing head and whispered in Mrs Newcombe’s ear.
“Emily I think dear Nony has had enough for now. I have a new task for you, do not resist.”
Emily found her head pulled backwards into Florie’s bosom, and her mistress’s lips found hers. Delicately Florisa kissed and cleaned the slack mouth. Her hands slid from Emily’s shoulders and delved under the top of her dress. Florie tweaked both teats and welcomed Emily’s sigh with her tongue. The mistress raised her head to speak briefly to Norma.
“If you would fetch the blindfold for me.”
Norma grinned and nodded enthusiastically. Minutes later Florie lowered her thrall to the floor.
“Now you are sure you cannot see? I would not like to spoil the surprise.”
Emily shook her head.
“Excellent!” said Florie, then she gathered up her skirts, placed one leg either side of Mrs Newcombe’s head and sat on the reclining woman’s face. Even through her bloomers Emily’s buccal efforts were highly effective. Florisa swayed and stiffened.
“Nony, if you could assist?” Said Florie, and urgently she pulled down the front of her brocade dress exposing her full breasts.
A second later Norma’s tongue nursed one of Florisa’s nipples whilst the fingers of her left hand kneaded the other to stiff perfection. The mistress squirmed against Nony as Emily’s tongue found its way past the silk and buried itself in to Florie’s velvet interior.
“If there is such a thing as a fingersmith, then I do believe we have found ourselves a tonguesmith.” Florie puffed, before dissolving into a mass of rocking convulsions.
Eventually Florisa was able to stand, bow legged, she staggered away. She grinned when she saw Sybil. Excellent, her task was completed.
“Ah, dear Sybil. I think Mrs Newcombe has a gift for you!”
Sybil glanced at the dishevelled woman; face smeared, lips swollen, tongue protruding. The girl nodded, and moved in to fill the slot so recently vacated by her mistress. Mere minutes later Sybil was bouncing and swaying as she added her spoils onto Emily’s coated face. Quickly Sybil rose.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yes, now!” replied Florisa.
Sybil moved the latest thrall in position, then she pushed lightly on the girl’s shoulders. The slim naked form descended on to the still flicking tongue. The new arrival bucked as Emily’s wicked tongue welcomed her arrival. To steady her mount, Mrs Newcombe raised her hands to prop up the slight form. Her hands found smooth breasts each lushly tipped with a puffed up nipple, Luxuriously she pulled them into full erection. Above her the girl began to moan in her delight.
“Now?” said Sybil.
“Indeed. Now!” replied Florisa.
Sybil ripped the blindfold from Emily’s face.
Mrs Newcombe stared directly up, it took a second for her eyes to adjust then they widened madly. She tried to scream a single word, a well-used name. She was unable, as her mouth was truly filled. The vibrations her muffled shout caused were enough to send the girl to her crisis and howling she came.
Trapped in a sapphic nightmare, Mrs Newcombe’s mouth filled, quite unwillingly, with Miss Newcombe’s urgent spend.
Holmes paced around the room, he had been quiet for long minutes. His brow was wrinkled, but other than that the incessant walking, the steady puffing on his meerschaum was his only movement. He stopped, studied Hove for a second and then glanced at Nancy.
“You see,” Holmes muttered, his pipe-stem bobbing, “You see, the only question is... Can I trust either of you?”
“Steady on old chap, you have known me for years. We have stood shoulder to shoulder as brothers-in-arms. We know the trust of battle.” Replied Hove.
Ned looked deep into Brighton’s wide set eyes. They neither blinked nor turned aside. Finally Holmes sighed, emitting a long stream of blue tinged smoke into the room.
“Normally Brighton there would be no question. But you have been under the influence of a master mesmerist.” Holmes paused, “The powers we are talking about here may not be the merely hypnotic.”
Brighton gaped, “You mean there is more?”
Holmes nodded. He looked to be mulling something over in his mind. Ned walked up to a bookshelf and took down a book. He flicked through the pages apparently mindlessly.
“Ah, now ever since the pioneering work of Lavoisier, men have striven to control the elements; then thirty or so years ago Friedrich Wöhler not only managed to isolate, but also to synthesise chemicals.” Ned paused for breath, “I believe what we have here is a man-made dye which can act as a vector to intensify the mesmerist’s art.”
“A dye, what like ochre...” Hove paused, “I’ll be jiggered, you mean the green... The damnable green!”
Holmes smiled, “Indeed I do, a dye that was originally developed for printing ink.” Ned waved the book, “A dye that was banned due to its odd toxic effects on print workers in the region of Hanau Germany.”
Nancy spoke, “The ink in the diary!”
“Precisely!” said Ned, “Or placed in a hollowed out gem and affixed to jewellery. That is the vector; the item that keeps the thrall under the mesmerist’s will.” Holmes threw the book down on his desk and faced the two other occupants of the library, his face became grave. “So I must ask you, hand on heart and before your maker. Were either of you given anything to keep? Whatever it was, maybe even—the smallest trinket...”
“I am certain I was not,” replied Hove, “Just let me check.” Brighton rifled through his pockets, “No, old bean, not a sausage.”
Holmes turned to Nancy, but before he could ask the question—a fearful hammering from the front of the house stopped him.
“I’ll go,” said Nancy.
She returned in short time, beside her was a red-faced Sergeant Smythe. He spoke immediately.
“Begin’ pardon Mr ’Olmes,” Bill turned and nodded to Brighton, “Mr ’Ove, but we need your help with an odd case we have down at the station.”
Holmes nodded, “It must indeed be odd for you to attend us personally Sykes.”
“Yes sir, we have a naked mad woman,” Bill turned apologetically to Nancy, “Begin’ pardon Miss, a right rumpus she’s been causing.” Sykes lowered his voice conspiratorially, “She’s been accosting ladies in the street and trying to get under their dresses. I reckon she wants to...”
“We can imagine the scene Sergeant,” Holmes replied.
“You can? Really?” Sykes asked, lifting his hat to scratch the front of his head, “Well then, I expect you can imagine the problem.”
“Tell me William, was she wearing anything? Anything at all?”
“As naked as the day that she was born... Other than a couple of rings.”
“Rings you say, what sort of rings?” asked Hove.
“Well Mr Brighton, a wedding band and a jewelled ring on her little finger.”
“Were the jewels emeralds by and chance?” Asked Ned.
“Well, let me think, I believe they may have been.”
“There is no time to lose Hove, we must attend the station. Nancy take care of the house. Do not let anyone in other than Hove or I.”
“Yes Mr ’Olmes, as you say.”
Nancy stood watching the eager men leave. Nervously she toyed with the charm in her apron pocket.
“Mr Holmes!” she called.
The slam of the closing front door was her reply. Nancy sighed, and pulled the charm from her pocket. She looked at it lovingly, the glow calmed her so. It was her one consolation.