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or more other girls.
    Fresh smacks and squeals began to sound, then silence. Once more a name was called out, then another, then Sulitea’s and a fourth. More names were called on the lower levels. The lights went out and Aisla ducked down, worried that from within the darkened dormitory she might be visible in the moonlight. Only the light in the stairwell window remained, and Aisla saw the matrons trooping down the stairs, most followed by a girl, some with two. Near the end came Sulitea, her arm clutched in the massive hand of one of the black clad matrons.
    Ducking low, Aisla ran for the southern stair. As she reached it she saw the group dispersing across the main yard and caught the flicker of firelight from Sulitea’s curls. The matron led Sulitea into an alley and a moment later Aisla heard the crash of a door. For the count of a thousand she waited, now with her heart hammering in her chest and a weak feeling in her stomach. Descending the stair, she found herself in a yard, rich with the scent of refuse and dead black save for a few stars visible among the scudding clouds overhead. A wall barred her path, which she climbed, and at length she found herself in the alley down which Sulitea and the matron had gone. Light showed at a single window, and with her heart in her throat she peered within.
    Inside was a scene very different from the stark austerity of the dormitories. Thick drapes covered the walls and solid furniture stood to the sides of a heavy rug patterned in deep green and gold. This had been rolled back to expose the flags of the floor, and in the middle of the room knelt the High-Demoiselle Sulitea, stark naked and scrubbing the floor with a stiff brush. Aisla watched, shocked and trying to fight down a secret delight at the high-born girl’s degradation. Sulitea’s back was to Aisla, or rather her bottom, with the fullish cheeks spread to show tuppenny and bottom hole in blatant display. Marks decorated each buttock, fresh and red, showing that Sulitea had been one of the girls punished that evening, while a dribble of juice from her open vagina betrayed her response. As she scrubbed she turned, and her breasts became visible, swinging from beneath her chest as she worked, each tattooed with the intricate pattern of blue and red swirls that marked her as shamed.
    Aisla swallowed hard at the sight, then moved quickly back as the door across the room began to open. Voices came to her, coarse laughter and a command, them a little whimper in a softer voice. Unable to hold back her curiosity, Aisla peered in again. Sulitea was as before, kneeling in the nude, scrubbing brush in one hand, only instead of being hung down to watch her work her head was thrown back and her mouth wide open. In front of Sulitea knelt the matron, a squat, red-haired woman of enormous bulk, still clad in her voluminous black gown, but with the front pulled up to expose a system of leather straps and a grotesque black phallus that protruded from her pubic region.
    Sulitea leant forward and began to suck on the monstrous dildo, every bit as Aisla had imagined her doing with the dung-gatherer’s cock. The expression on the matron’s face became a broad grin, not physical pleasure, but a savage enjoyment at forcing the naked girl to suck on her substitute cock. Aisla could imagine what was coming next, and despite her very real sense of outrage she felt shamefully warm and wet between her thighs. Sure enough, when the matron grew bored with watching Sulitea suck the dildo she took hold of the girl’s hair and pulled back. Sulitea let the phallus slip from her mouth, and as the matron gave her a light slap in the face she turned, presenting her upturned buttocks to the dildo. The matron laughed as Sulitea reached back and spread herself for entry, then prodded the dildo at the girl’s vagina. Sulitea’s eyes closed and her mouth went wide as her tuppenny filled, and she began to pant as the fucking began.
    The matron had her