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Sweet and Juicy

Chapter 2

Daphne needed to relieve herself, and when she could no longer hold it, she realized why the hay was scattered on the floor. Feeling dismal and low, she stopped clenching her sex and let urine sprinkle down her thighs. She also stopped clenching her anus, and small balls of waste popped out of the tight pink knot under her lifted tail. She sighed as the warm waste pushed out and sagged in her chains, but when she heard footsteps on the stairs, she looked up and wanted to die. A young and beautiful mare had come down the stairs and had stopped in place, watching Daphne in surprise. Daphne's sex and anus wouldn't stop pushing out waste and this young girl was watching. Daphne winced, squeezing up her tender sex and anus, trying to make them stop, but it kept happening. She sagged again and kept her eyes on the floor.

"It's alright, miss," said the nun good-naturedly.

Daphne didn't feel like it was alright. She was pooping and peeing in front of someone! She heard the young girl kneel in front of her in the hay, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed for the first time that the girl had come with a bucket and washrag.

The girl was what most would call a painted horse. Painted horses were wild folk who lived in tribes out in the fields and plains. They refused to wear horseshoes as it was against their traditions, and they ran about wearing the furs of the bears and wolves they had slain. They came in different colors but their bodies were always completely blotched, as if two colors of paint had run together and hadn't properly mixed. Thus their name.

The girl who'd come was a painted horse with white and brown coloring. Her pretty slanted eyes were green and her long mane was white. Like the other nuns, she wore a robe that was completely white, but unlike the other nuns, her robe did not cover her entire body in a modest shroud. Instead, her robe was cut off at the shoulders, leaving her neck, shoulders, and cleavage bear. Her white mane fell loose around her and stopped near her backside, silky and soft and half-plaited. On her head was a white hood with no back, so that her mane flowed out of it. She knelt before Daphne, and after smiling kindly at her, she dipped the washcloth in the bucket and started gently wiping her clean.

Daphne closed her eyes as she was bathed and breathed in the girl's scent. The girl smelled like candle wax and old parchment, like all the nuns. But she lacked the other subtle scent of old linen and cooking wine. That meant she was new.

"I'm Snowflake," whispered the girl, gently pushing the washcloth up Daphne's calf, then down over her hoof.

Ah. The girl really was from the wild, then. For one, she had the same peculiar accent, speaking slowly and serenely, like the wild horses did. And only painted horses named themselves after things. They were always named after flowers, pastries, colors, sometimes even stars. They believed life should be simple and so their names were simple. But none of them worshipped Heavenly Araton. In fact, many painted horses despised him for blackmailing their kind every one hundreds years. It was remarkable that a painted horse had come to reside at an abbey devoted to the Lord Above.

"I've only been here a year," Snowflake went on nervously. "I-I've never seen a Purest One before."

"Why would you even be here?" Daphne wondered. "Someone like you can't be devoted to the Lord Above."

Snowflake snorted. "As if every nun were devoted," she said, startling Daphne with her sudden derision. "Mother Vivica and Sister Andra are here to finger pretty girls. Don't let those pussy-hungry old mares fool you. Some girls ran away in the past because they were molested by those old lechers."

Daphne blinked in surprise.

"They don't even follow their own customs, that's why they wear shoes," the painted horse went on, her lip curling as she wrung out the washcloth over the bucket. "They care nothing for the Lord Above and just like being surrounded by pussy and tits all day. Others come here because they're criminals and outcasts. An abbey is above the law and is sworn to take in those mares who would submit, to grant sanctuary to any mare, so they come seeking protection. Then . . ." she wiped carefully at Daphne's clenching anus, gently cleaning under her tail, "a lot of girls who come here are runaways, tired of being touched by their fathers or beaten by their husbands . . . They figure if the Lord Above chooses to take them," Snowflake shrugged, "it can't be worse than what they've already endured."

"What about you?" Daphne asked quietly, trying to ignore the tingling pleasure.

Snowflake smiled sadly and her lip trembled. "M-Me? I haven't been here long. I'm not even sworn. I'm j-just an acolyte . . ."

"Sorry if it's . . . personal," Daphne said guiltily.

Snowflake shook her head and blinked. "No," she said, dipping the washcloth again. "I-I was exiled from my tribe," she admitted miserably. She didn't say more.

Daphne couldn't help asking, "Why?"

Snowflake scowled. "My father wanted me to marry a stallion from another tribe. I was already in love with . . ." She glanced at Daphne as if she'd caught herself. "S-Someone," she said, dropping her eyes again.

Daphne was silent. She had the feeling that someone had been a mare.

Snowflake smoothed the washcloth up Daphne's thigh. "Anyway," she muttered, "it doesn't . . ." Her voice trailed away and the cloth stopped near Daphne's sex. She had washed Daphne everywhere except her sex and breasts and seemed embarrassed to do so. Daphne knew why: her sex was still swollen and aroused. She clenched her lips in shame, wishing she could hide. Snowflake bit her lip and started gently wiping the lips of Daphne's sex. Daphne held her breath. She tried to ignore the gentle stroking, but her clit was swelling thicker with each touch of the wet cloth. She blushed prettily when she felt the lips of her sex suddenly swell fuller with arousal.

"You're v-very," Snowflake babbled. "V-Very . . ." She cleared her throat.

"I feel like I'm going to burst," Daphne admitted miserably. "I can't even touch myself . . ." She blushed a little. "N-Not that I ever have . . ."

Snowflake leaned close, and Daphne's lashes fluttered when she felt the pretty mare's tongue gently and wetly stroke her sex. Her thighs trembled, and it felt so good, she melted in her chains. She moaned, and her head fell forward as Snowflake dropped the washcloth and grabbed her thighs, burying her face between. Before long, the sound of moaning, licking, and sucking had filled the room.

When Snowflake sucked tenderly on her clit, Daphne felt the pleasure pulse wild through her. She gasped and was shocked when she squirted in sweet release. Snowflake moaned but did not back away, instead slurping hungrily on Daphne's soft sex and eating her wet arousal with a gentle tongue. Daphne's juices were running down the girl's chin and she was blushing when she finally pulled back.

"Oh . . . oh, S-Snowflake . . ." Daphne panted, high breasts riding.

Snowflake licked her lips and bowed her head in shame. "No, don't whisper my name like that! I have sinned . . . I betrayed the same Lord Above who gave me shelter . . . I betrayed him by touching what was his alone to touch . . ."

"It's . . . it's okay," Daphne panted. "It f-felt . . ." she blushed furiously. "Really good."

Snowflake pushed her hair back from her face, looking embarrassed. "I-I suppose it's alright. I'm just an acolyte, after all. Perhaps the Lord Above will forgive m-me. . . ." She looked at Daphne's sex again, which was glistening with her juices until it dripped down her thighs.

Daphne's heart thumped as the girl's hungry eyes traced over her riding breasts, her round hips, her trembling smooth belly, her dripping sex and the thighs that clenched to hide it.

"Your sweet . . . juicy pussy . . ." Snowflake whispered huskily. "All swollen for me." She leaned forward on her knees, sticking out her backside and lifting her tail as she reached under her robe. She buried her face between Daphne's thighs again, and as she ate her out with hungry abandon, she fingered herself. The pretty mare went down on Daphne, licking and sucking and slurping, until her breasts heaved. Daphne stammered out a cry as she squirted a second time and sagged in her chains, trembling all over with the pleasure of it.

Daphne heard Snowflake's shrill sigh, and when she looked up, she blushed to see the young acolyte had pulled up her robe and was fingering herself as she pinched her own nipple. Her breasts were high and swollen, her nipples were tiny, her thighs were shapely as she knelt in the hay, pleasuring herself and looking at Daphne with eyes that were glazed with lust. Her perky breasts shivered when she took a shrill breath, and as she gave a choking gasp, her sex clenched and she squirted down her thighs.

The look of utter delight and relief on Snowflake's face, her shrill and helpless cry aroused Daphne all over again. She looked at Snowflake's pink sex and wondered what it tasted like.

Blushing and embarrassed, Snowflake pulled down her robe and scrambled to gather the bucket and washcloth, apologizing the whole time and begging the Lord Above's forgiveness. She told Daphne that someone would be down to feed her the next day, then galloped up the stairs as fast as she could.

But no one came to feed Daphne the next day, and it was like they'd forgotten her.

Daphne remained chained in the basement all morning, stomach gurgling and ears forward as she listened to the sound of hooves stamping back and forth on the floor above. Something had happened and the nuns were panicking, and in the chaos, no one had remembered to feed Daphne.

Daphne was ready to start shouting for food when someone finally game down the stairs. It was a mare she didn't recognize, a ruddy red and middle-aged nun who looked at her coldly. Daphne was relieved to see the nun was carrying a bowl, but when the nun drew close, she was disappointed to see it was full of grain. Nothing but grain. Only the very poor ate grain by itself! Daphne wanted cooked vegetables, fresh fruit, clean water - food. She looked at the nun with a crestfallen face.

"Eat your grain, no complainin'," the nun said at once and held the bowl near Daphne's mouth.

Daphne held back her protests and dipped her mouth in the bowl. She closed her eyes as she was eating and thus never saw it coming when the nun viciously slapped her breasts. She gasped, spitting grain and nearly choking. Her golden breasts blushed red from the blow and jiggled against each other, but her pink nipples hardened, standing rigid from the plump mounds.

Daphne looked at the nun with her mouth slightly open. "You --!" she began angrily and the nun slapped her breasts again. She gasped shrilly when her sex became swollen.

"Just as I thought," said the nun disapprovingly. "Like your tits spanked, don't ya? Like pussy, don't ya?" She slapped Daphne's breasts again, and Daphne gasped for her to stop.

"Stop!" the nun mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Why should I stop, you defiler! You harlot! You made little Snowflake sin, didn't ya? Ya whore!" She slapped Daphne's breasts again, so hard this time they wobbled wildly.

Daphne trembled in her chains. "I didn't! I didn't do anything!" She craned her neck for the bowl of grain, but the nun had pulled it out of reach. "Please - I'm so hungry!"

"Not until you admit you're a whore," the nun said coldly.

Daphne trembled angry, but her stomach growled in protest. "I'm . . . a whore," she whispered.

The nun pricked her ear forward and tilted her head mockingly. "What was that?"

"I'm a whore!" Daphne snapped.

"Good girl," said the nun and offered the bowl of grain.

Daphne bitterly started eating again but kept her eyes open, anticipating yet another slap on her breasts. The nun just watched her sourly, holding the bowl at arm's length, as if she didn't want to get close to Daphne.

"Your escort arrived to take you to Heaven last night," the nun said, and Daphne paused to look at her.

"He arrived alone," the nun said unhappily. "Demons killed the others."

Daphne looked at the nun in shock. "No . . ."

"Yer angel had one of his wings torn off," went on the nun. "It'll grow back, but he won't be flyin' ya to Heaven now. You'll have to go the long way. Don't blubber and cry, girl," she said when Daphne's lip trembled in fear. "Angels regenerate pretty quickly. He'll be on his feet within the hour. Then he'll come down here for ya, and ya can leave. Finally." She glanced at the bowl. "Finish eating ya grain."

Daphne dipped her mouth in the bowl again, but she couldn't stop thinking of the journey ahead. If demons had killed an entire group of angels, what hope did she have of reaching Heaven on foot with only one? What was more, why couldn't they just stay at the abbey until the angel's wing grew back? Daphne supposed such a thing would take a long time. Either way, their odds of success seemed slim: demons had wings as well.

"It's alright, little whore," the nun said in a softer voice. "If the Lord Above wants that ya should be his bride, he will make certain ya reach Heaven."

Like the other Purest Ones who disappeared into the forest? Daphne thought derisively but kept her skepticism to herself.

"Yer angel, by the way," said the nun as if she'd just remembered, "his name's Artesda."