**Day 4**
Now half a week into our training, we’re very much at ease in each other’s company – well, at least when it comes to fornication – when talking, we’re still somewhat shy with one another. Anyway, I’m very familiar with the bodies of my fellow lap dollies now, and they’ve all made themselves very familiar with mine. And even when the staff are not instructing us to fornicate, we all carry on touching and using each other freely.
Our status as lap dollies renders us powerless – the Abbey staff control us completely, and almost everything we do is done according to their bidding. We can’t even get up off our hands and knees unless they tell us. The only power left to us is over each other’s bodies, so whenever the staff leave us alone, we grope, caress and finger each other any way we want. The lads amongst us hump each other and us lasses whenever they feel like it. They also like kissing and fondling our breasts, which is something they don’t get to do when our instructrixes are overseeing our fornications. In turn, we lasses like rubbing our backsides on the lads’ faces. Our submission to each other is already a given, so each of us just puts up with whatever the others want to do.
I know I haven’t been here for long, yet I’m still sure I’ve already changed. Though I may still be human in appearance, this place has already reduced me to some lowly beast given over to mindless fornication, who desires more than anything to be used by others for their pleasure. It’s only now as I write in my journal do I begin to feel like a normal wholesome lass again – it’s like waking up from a feverish dream.
Though some of us are more talkative than others, I’ve exchanged words with every one of my fellow lap dollies now. I also know some of their names. It’s only Oleron, the blond, blue-eyed boy in the cage next to mine, who I’ve conversed with at any length, though. Yes, he’ll crawl over to grope and finger me as the others do, but often he’ll come by for a little chat instead. We talk about all kinds of things, such as the architectural styles of the various Abbey buildings and the traditional meanings of the staff’s various uniforms. I suppose because he’s a university lad, he points out things about our surroundings I hadn’t myself given any thought.
Through the course of the day, as I got increasingly more caught up in the spell of this place, it got harder to follow the meaning of Oleron’s words, but I still appreciated him coming over to me anyway, even only to listen to the sweet voice and gaze dumbly at his mesmerisingly pretty face.
In the morning, when my brains were still working properly, I asked him what he knew about the owls. We had returned to the lawn after breakfast, and there were four of these birds perched on the posts in the yard. Normally, owls disconcert me a little – especially barn owls – but the ones that come to the yard are truly uncanny. They are unusually big, and they don’t seem to move from their perches – they just appear and disappear when I’m not looking. Yet, they also seem intensely alive, and when they stare at me it seems they’re gazing into my innermost being. I know it sounds like madness, but I can’t help imagining they are reading my thoughts. Oleron was surprised I hadn’t noticed them before yesterday – apparently, they can be found all over town. If that’s so, maybe my mind had been blanking them out until now somehow. Oleron said they’re called Watchers. “They’re always with us,” he told me. “They make themselves seen when they’re witnessing our fornications. Some folks even say it’s the Watchers who compel us humans to fornicate in the first place.”
I was now perplexed. He seems a serious sort, so I don’t think he was teasing me with tall tales. “But why are they here? What do they want from us?” I asked.
“Their presence is something we just have to accept, lass – like the sky and the stars,” he said. “If the gods want us to know why they would’ve revealed the reason to us long ago. In Follywell we consider them as a blessing, and many folks are even troubled on days they don’t appear.”
Oleron also said the Watchers don’t only appear as owls. “The doves perched on the roof of our stable and the swallows flying around the tower today are also witnesses to our fornications,” he said. “They can be sparrows too – and crows, blackbirds, nightingales, and even kingfishers.”
Now I think of it, Follywell is full of birds – I don’t believe I’ve seen so many in a town before – and every household I’ve visited here also keeps various kinds as pets – mainly finches, parakeets and canaries.
Like yesterday, we spent most of today posed on all fours on the lawn with the hot rays of the sun warming our backs. During breaks between our fornications, we crawl over to the trough to refresh ourselves with cool fresh water. When we piss, we just do it on the grass below us like beasts of the field. It was strange at first doing it company, but I no longer mind pissing in front of other folks, now – it seems oddly liberating – I even try to have as many people as possible see.
After my talk with Oleron, I went over to the tall red-haired lad, and I spoke to him for the first time. He’s the least talkative amongst us. I asked his name, but he said our names are no longer needed. Before I could say anything else, he seized my head and pushed my face onto his lap. His cock swelled to its full size in my mouth, and it stayed there until I’d swallowed his cum.
A little later, I crawled up to the nameless red-haired lad again and without warning, inserted my finger into his arsehole. He was on all fours, busy whispering to the dark-haired lad, so he didn’t notice me coming up behind him. When I slipped in my forefinger, he gasped, then continued his whispered conversation with the dark-haired lad. He didn’t even look over his shoulder to find out who was fingering him. All he did was move his backside gently against my finger. I kissed and licked his balls and reached down and with my other hand, fondled his cock as it swelled again to its full size. The other lap dollies crawled over. Oleron fingered my own anus, while the fourth lad groped my breasts. The other lasses joined in with the melee in various ways too.
Both our instructrixes arrived on the lawn and made their presence known to us with two quick claps. I’m overcome with fear, excitement and joy whenever Mistress Lydia and Mistress Elsa join us, and now was no exception. I believe this must be true for the others, too – yes, we’re all very eager to show our obedience to our betters now. At once, we stopped what we were doing, and we lined up on our hands and knees in the now-familiar Second Position. Our instructrixes, who certainly like seeing us like this, also call it the Bitch Posture or Pony Pose. They now stood before us arm in arm, with Mistress Lydia facing towards us and Mistress Elsa turned the other way, presenting her buttocks, and they stood like this for much of the time while instructing us.
While we listened to our mistresses’ words, we kept our eyes fixed keenly on Mistress Elsa’s lush backside. I would’ve kept staring up at those heartbreakingly lovely buttocks even if not required to do so. I hoped I would be called over to kiss them and the sweet, little puckered hole tucked between them, but that wouldn’t happen again until after our second feeding.
Mistress Lydia placed her basket on the grass and bid us to crawl forward and have a look inside. It was full of dildos of various sizes – all were formed from soft golden-yellow amber and all were shaped like a man’s cock. The base of each rod flared out into a bulb, though, which fitted nicely in the palm. Following Mistress Lydia’s bidding, we arranged the dildos on the lawn in order of size. There were twelve of them, the smallest being about an inch wide and five inches long, and the biggest nearly two inches wide and twelve inches long.
Mistress Lydia bid Polly to pick the smallest rod. “Go on, Big Tits, fuck your arsehole with it,” she commanded. She often calls the three buxom lasses amongst us ‘Big Tits’ and me ‘Little Titties’. While the rest of us lap dollies looked on, Polly yanked the rod in and out of her rear end, working it with one hand while playing with her cunny with the other.
As Polly pleasured herself, Mistress Elsa gave us her first little lecture of the day. “A lap dolly’s arsehole must always be ready for buggery,” she said. “This is true for you lasses as it is for the lads. Your daily enemas and the red pap we feed you goes a long way in preparing you, but you must also make sure to keep yourselves well lubricated, and use dildos in your own and each others’ arseholes whenever you can. Also, from now on, I want all of you to put your fingers inside your own arseholes at least once each day, preferably when other folks are around to see you doing it.”
Mistress Lydia then told Polly to hand her rod to another lap dolly. She carefully pulled it out and handed it to me. I fucked my own anus with it, while Mistress Lydia told Polly to insert the next dildo in size. For the next hour or so all eight of us dollies worked through the dildos in order of size until we each found the biggest one we could comfortably accommodate in our bottoms. I reached my own limit with one of the medium-sized ones, which was a little bit under an inch and a half in girth. The lad called Kane, though, somehow managed to shove the huge two-incher halfway up his arse.
After the rods were returned to the basket, Mistress Elsa gave another lecture. It began with her reminding us of our standing in society – we must never forget we’re “the lowest of the low,” she told us, before saying we must fully embrace our abjection and cultivate complete self-effacement. Then she spoke about the domestic duties we lap dollies would have to fulfil once we’re assigned to our households. The first of these, of course, is to be used carnally by the members of the household and their guests whenever and however they desire. Our second duty is to serve as ornaments. Our naked bodies are to decorate the parlours, hallways and gardens of our assigned households. As living sculptures, it’s important we’re able to keep still and know what poses to adopt at various times of day and when it’s appropriate to move.
A party of two dozen townsfolk came to see us in the afternoon. By their fine dress, it was obvious they were all masters and mistresses of Follywell’s more well-to-do households. We dollies lined up and presented ourselves on our hands and knees. Though we usually keep still when in Position Two, we’re obliged to ‘wag’ our backsides whenever visitors approach. I now wriggled my rear up and down, but the presence of the good townsfolk reminded me of the world beyond the Abbey, and I felt awkward and stupid.
The visitors walked around us, giving little comments to us and to each other, and they asked our instructrixes questions. They also poked, prodded and groped us. One woman tapped me with her foot and ordered me to lift my rear end higher. I raised my bottom and continued my wriggling the best I could. “Tell me, my dear, does this female know any proper buttock dances?” the woman asked Mistress Lydia in her clear, cut-glass voice.
“She hails from Gantshire, so possibly not,” said Mistress Lydia. “But three weeks into their training, we’ll begin to pay more attention to how they move their rumps. Though this one is from up north, she’s still a fast learner, so I’m sure she’ll catch up with the others.”
“Yes, a lithe, supple lass like this one should shake her arse properly,” said the woman. She was now rubbing my backside with her hands. “I imagine, though, she’ll prove to be quite a dish once she’s properly trained.” She slapped my buttocks, then moved on to give her critique of the lad next to me.
Some of the gentlemen visitors, having now unbuttoned their breeches, were showing off their stiff, upright cocks. One got behind me, and I felt his hot cock press between my buttocks – so obviously, despite my poor display of arse shaking, I was still attractive enough for him to use. The fellow’s hands explored every part of me within reach like he was trying to know me as well as possible by touch alone. However, as I didn’t get to look up at his face, I will never know who he was.
He then gave me a few hard slaps on my buttocks and thighs – pinched and twisted my nipples too. He then fucked me vigorously. Now I only exist to be used, all I could do was let him do as he likes – and I could tell he was only interested in his own gratification. I was shivering with excitement, though – the excitement of being used like this by some anonymous, faceless stranger. This new, unexpected pleasure must surely be one of the joys of a lap dolly.
While he fucked me, I kept staring in front of me in the dumb way we lap dollies are supposed to. One of those infernal, ghostly owls was perched on a post opposite me. Even across the yard, its round eyes looked huge, and they pierced coldly into my soul in the way the owls’ eyes do. Its stare, though still unworldly, was no longer unwelcome – somehow I knew I had the creature’s approval.
A small group of visitors was also watching me – I didn’t have to look up at them to know they were taking delight in seeing me fucked. One woman crouched down by my side and groped my breasts. Another man then knelt before me and took hold of my chin. I looked up at him in the way we dollies are allowed when our faces are held like this. “What are you? Go on tell me,” he said. I hesitated. “Say you’re everybody’s lap bitch,” he added.
“I’m everybody’s lap bitch,” I said breathlessly. “I exist only to be used by my betters.” I saw the approval in his eyes. He unbuttoned his breeches, letting his cock and balls flop out, which he rubbed against my face. I took his semi-flaccid cock in my mouth, and as I sucked on it, it grew in size and firmness. He pushed it in further, and it slipped down the back of my throat, going down as easily as the red-hair lad’s cock had done yesterday. The man behind me now took his own cock out of my cunny and pushed it up my arsehole, making me gasp. It happened suddenly – he was already halfway inside before I knew it. Though his cock felt big, my back passage had already been well-prepared, so I didn’t have to do much more to let him go all the way inside.
He fucked my arse as freely and swiftly as he had my cunny. I was still shivering with excitement – the sensation of having cocks thrusting in both my gullet and rectum at the same time was intense. I know I’m nothing more than a fucktoy to these men – and for a while, I really felt it, and I loved it. They finished within moments of each other. I swallowed the cum of the one in front of me while receiving the other’s load deep in my bowels. And then, for the first time ever, my arsehole orgasmed. In fact, my whole body convulsed. Blood pulsed heavily in my veins, and for a while, I was aware of very little other than the great lump of throbbing flesh that was my body. Along with deep bliss, I had the oddly liberating feeling of being emptied out, like I no longer even existed. The man in front then moved away, and once again I saw the owl perched opposite me. As it fixed me in its piercing eyes again, it lifted itself higher on its post and stretched out its wings.
For a while, I was dimly aware that another lap dolly behind me was sucking on my sloppy, well-used anus. Then, when another pair of men took the place of the first two, there was nothing remaining of me to even submit to them – I was just an object to be used and nothing more.
My bliss continued as even more of the men had their go with me and only ended when the party of visitors left the yard with our instructrixes. I flopped down on the grass, completely spent, not caring one bit if I was correctly posed. Oleron lay next to me and tenderly stroked my side, his warmth and closeness making me feel human again. I sighed and said “Do you know what bliss it is to be used like you’re nothing?” He smiled at me.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qgtrjx/taras_training_diary_day_four_fantasy_fm_ff_ds