Chapters A Holsom Women's Social Chapter 7
She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Liza, but like Jeany, Cherry had been fed-by-the-rear since her wedding. Three times a day a maid gently pushed her face against the sheets of the bed, her butt poised to accept the nozzle of an enema hose, perfectly designed to fit with a satisfying click, deep inside. That was no different from her routine prior to marriage, of course. Cleanliness is a virtue! In fact, she hadn’t noticed anything odd about the process except that it was particularly lengthy and quite thorough, but that had seemed only appropriate considering the use her ass was now regularly put to.
It wasn’t until her third day without a proper meal, and without the hunger pangs she might have expected under the circumstances, that she asked Francis whether the doctors had done something to remove her need for food altogether. It seemed plausible; she had little conception of anything surgeons could not do, and she’d never received a full account of everything that had been changed during her operations. The early days of her marriage had been full of similar surprises.
Francis had chuckled as though she’d made a joke, and Cherry joined him with embarrassed giggles. She knew from his reaction that she’d said something silly, but it was still their honeymoon then and he had indulged her long enough for her to reframe the question. As it turned out, it was indeed something the surgeons had done, though not quite what she’d imagined. Apparently her intestines —whatever those were— had been altered to accommodate a different sort of meal. A nutritious slurry could be blasted up inside her, given a short time to absorb into her body, before the excess was cleaned out during the rest of the enema process.
Now that she knew to expect it, Cherry noticed the distinct feel of her meals compared to the usual, slightly tingly, cleansing solutions that followed. Her mouth’s secondary use had been reassigned so that she could focus on its more important purpose. He had given her plenty of opportunities to demonstrate that purpose, which she thoroughly enjoyed, complete with a special treat at the end. Aside from occasional sips of vitamin-enriched water, those treats were the only thing she would be allowed to swallow from then on.
Or they would have been, if not for the refreshments on offer at the Women’s Social. Unlike Jeany she still had a functional mouth and an empty tummy, and the prospect of eating actual food was too tantalizing to pass up. The cucumber spears and thin grey crackers she could see as she approached the table looked designed to be unappetizing, but to her they appeared as delicacies. Like the feel of the sun on her skin, real food seemed to be another thing she had been desperately missing without even realizing it.
Just as she grew close enough to conceivably bend down and eat directly off the table, though, the entire spread was blurred from her vision. She ran her eyes along its whole length in dismay, finding nothing but a smear of fog from corner to corner, extending up the tiered dishes and lovely silverware to censor every last morsel. This of course posed a problem. It wouldn’t do to accidentally thrust her face into a blurry bowl of potato salad when she had been aiming for a cracker. But Cherry knew she was being silly. It wasn’t like she had really planned to eat by herself, anyway. That would be entirely undignified! In fact, if she behaved with enough confidence, the censor was hardly a deterrence at all.
“Maid,” she called politely to a retiree stationed by the table, “Would you please feed me one of those crackers?” She nodded at the blurry spot roughly where the crackers had been. The retiree immediately moved to obey, bending gracefully, one arm swinging around its shoulder socket in an almost unnatural fashion to retrieve a censored blob from the table. It lifted what Cherry assumed to be the cracker she’d requested towards her face, and she felt her mouth water. Actually water, not lubricate. She parted her lips, and leaned forward tentatively to take a nibble.
The ear splitting siren that erupted in that instant caught her completely off guard. She instinctively tried to slap her hands over her ears, producing little more than a twitch of her trimmed shoulders. The horrible claxon continued unmuffled, driving her down onto her knees by its sheer volume. Frantically looking around with wide, panicked eyes she saw that the rest of the Social continued undisturbed. A few women watched her with curiosity, but none seemed to be struggling under the oppressive noise. The maid still held the fuzzy cracker out above her. It was all Cherry could do not to scream, though if she had then the other women would have likely heard nothing but muzak. Best not to call any more attention to herself. The siren was coming from her ear implants, she knew now. It seemed there was a much more effective deterrent to breaking her diet after all. She squeezed her eyes closed to try and weather the noise.
The ringing stopped as suddenly as it had started. Cherry stayed crouched on her knees for a few seconds, not daring to open her eyes. She didn’t know whether the alarm might take up again if she so much as looked at the food table now that she had effectively announced her intention to circumvent the censor. A peek at the carpet produced no noise in her ears. She slowly rose to her unsteady heels and turned away from the table and the maid altogether before daring to raise her gaze.
Clarissa Fritzgerald was staring at her, bemused.
“Didn’t you know you’re on a diet, hun?” Clarissa raised a sardonic eyebrow. The gaggle of women who had surrounded her earlier were no longer present, leaving Cherry to deal with Clarissa’s snarky tone without a snickering chorus in the background. That said, Julia wasn’t there, either, which meant Cherry was on her own, too.
“I did know.” She said cooly, trying her best to look down on the smaller woman. “I thought perhaps I could…If the maid fed it to me, then maybe…” She trailed off, feeling her face heat in embarrassment. What exactly had her plan been? Of course having a maid feed it to her wouldn’t have worked. Trimmed as a good wife should be, she needed a maid to feed her, to do everything for her. If there was something she wasn’t supposed to have, the contacts would know to watch for a maid giving it to her. If she was honest with herself, she’d been so excited by the idea of eating something, of chewing and swallowing and most of all tasting, that she hadn’t really thought it through.
Clarissa seemed to struggle with her thoughts for a moment, but then she actually gave Cherry a grudging half-smile. “In that case I respect the attempt,” she said, clearly reluctant but also surprisingly sincere. “But if you want to skirt the rules, you need to learn when and how. Did you get a demerit?”
Cherry felt a sudden panic, but she found no red tally mark in the corner of her vision to tell her that a demerit had been registered. She’d had little chance to earn any demerits since marrying Francis, and she didn’t know how he might punish her if she did. The lack of a tally mark was no guarantee that her offense had not been registered, however. Her father had always let her see ahead of time when she’d earned herself a spanking, but for all she knew Francis might spring it on her unaware. A spanking could be the optimistic outcome, in fact. The immediate relief she had felt at finding no tally was replaced with nervous anticipation.
“I don’t see one, but I don’t know if he’d give me the warning.” She murmured, the thought of an angry Francis making her forget to keep her guard up with Clarissa. The questions she had been carrying for hours bubbled up now. “What did you mean about us having met before? And why don’t you like me? Julia said it has something to do with my husband.”
That got both eyebrows raised this time. “I’m surprised she told you that much. Julie usually prefers to ignore anything that might upset her perfect little world.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t have a problem with you personally, Cherry. You seem like a nice girl, and I was unfair to you earlier. As for the rest, if we’re going to have that conversation we’d better do it somewhere private.”
There was a powder room available to guests, Julia had shown it to Cherry in her earlier tour, and Clarissa led her to it now. Already a bit taken aback by the woman’s frankness, Cherry was excited to get real answers to her questions. Her mind raced to find possibilities that could make such secrecy necessary, but nothing she came up with seemed within the bounds of reason.
The swing door to the powder room opened with a tap from Clarissa’s pleaser. It was designed for wives to use and therefore had no knob, and certainly no lock. There was no one inside the small room except a maid waiting on commands to fix makeup or hair. Once they were both through the door Cherry watched, utterly aghast, as Clarissa deftly flipped off her pleaser and used her bare foot to shove the thin heel under the door crack. She tested the door with her other pleaser. It didn’t budge. With the shoe firmly in place, friction kept it from swinging in either direction.
“There.” She said, satisfied. “That should guarantee we aren’t disturbed by some ninny who needs her lips glossed.”
Cherry was amazed by Clarissa’s resourcefulness, and even more so by her casual barefootedness. She was standing totally cock-eyed, on the very tiptoes of her bare foot but still quite off balance. It looked inelegant, and uncomfortable. Nonetheless Cherry couldn’t help but admire Clarissa’s bravery, as well as appreciate the trust the other woman was showing her by committing such an act in her view. Cherry noticed an odd jingling sound as Clarissa limped to the vanity and actually hopped up on top of the counter surface, plopping her plump bottom onto it unceremoniously and lounging back against the mirror, her bare foot drawn up to rest on the counter’s edge. The pose was very revealing in her short cocktail dress, but she held it with such confidence that Cherry wondered if she actually intended it to be.
“You might wanna sit, too. This could all come as a bit of a shock.”
Cherry couldn’t bring herself to actually sit on the floor. At that angle she’d be right at eye level with Clarissa’s…well, she’d have a view that should be reserved for Mr. Fritzgerald, to put it politely. She did slouch against the wall in an attempted imitation of Clarissa’s casual posture. While the older woman somehow looked natural sprawled across the vanity, Cherry couldn’t help shuffling awkwardly every few seconds. She had to continually fight to balance the weight of her breasts, which threatened to pull her to the floor whenever she leaned too far to one side. Clarissa watched Cherry struggle for a while, and her amused expression caused Cherry to blush furiously when she noticed. She stood straight again, away from the wall, hoping her embarrassment didn’t show too clearly.
“I think I’ll stand, thank you.” She murmured, and her blush grew in proportion to Clarissa’s smirk.
“Suit yourself.” Was all Clarissa said, but her voice carried a heavy dose of sarcasm and —unless Cherry was mistaken— a note of affection as well. But it turned bitter as she continued on. “So Julia told you that I’ve got a problem with your husband? It’d be more accurate to say I’ve got a problem with mine, but yours is definitely involved.”
“How so?”
“Oh I don’t know exactly, but Roger is good friends with Francis. Better friends all the time, it seems. They spend most of their days together, and lately Roger hasn’t been coming home in the evenings, too. I’m alone more nights than not.”
“Me, too.” Cherry said with a quizzical frown. “Francis hardly ever sleeps with me anymore.”
“I figured as much.” Clarissa nodded knowingly, and then explained to Cherry’s confused expression. “Your predecessor had the same complaint. And so did the girl before her, and the girl before her. You asked why I said I’ve met you before? Well, I have, in a way. Your husband replaces his wives at a rate like I’ve never seen. It feels like every time I turn around I’m being introduced to the new Mrs. Crane. You’re at least the fifth since I started keeping track, and that was only a few years ago.”
“Oh.” Cherry felt like she’d been punched in the chest. She slumped back against the wall. That was a much higher turnover than usual. Maybe it wasn’t her fault after all that Francis seemed bored of her already. That hardly made her feel better. In fact she felt much worse. If he had been through so many wives in just a few years, there was almost no chance she would be able to convince him to keep her much longer.
“I’m…sorry to drop it on you like that.” Clarissa said, unsure of herself for the first time since entering the small powder room. “I forget what awful news it must be if you’re not expecting it.”
“It’s ok…” Cherry told her, turning her face towards the ceiling to try and hold in her tears long enough to blink them away. “I’m glad you told me. It’s better to know.” Her voice only quavered a little, managing to sound much more sure than she really was. A few tears fell anyway, but the setting spray the maid had applied to her face that morning should be enough to keep her makeup undisturbed. The retiree waiting in the corner could always fix it, if not. Cherry looked at the retiree, and her own reflection seemed to leap out from the shiny black latex. She stared back at herself from the blank ovoid form of the retiree’s face. Her makeup looked fine. “I feel terrible that Francis hasn’t found a wife that can make him happy.” She murmured weakly.
“If it makes you feel any better, I can’t imagine what his issue is.” Clarissa shook her head. “ If I had you waiting for me in my bed I don’t know what else could possibly keep me away.” Her meaningful look seemed to be expecting more reaction than merely cheering Cherry up.
“If you…?”
“If I was a man, yes, of course.” Clarissa rolled her eyes as if that particular detail was too obvious to mention…or perhaps it was too annoying? She rushed on before Cherry could further examine her meaning. “Anyway, Roger has been spending an enormous amount of time with your husband lately, and I’ve been keeping a careful watch for whether Francis’ habits might be rubbing off on him. It seems they are, and that has me worried that I’m likely to be replaced.”
“You think Roger is going to retire you?” Cherry asked, not voicing the silent “too?” at the end. Would Francis even keep her long enough to earn a proper retirement? She had barely had the chance to prove herself.
“It wouldn’t surprise me, with how he’s acting lately. I should have been expecting it, at my age.” Clarissa tapped her single pleaser against the vanity cupboard in absent irritation. “Not many wives make it too far into their thirties, as you know, but Roger always promised I’d be at our daughters’ weddings. Well, we’re one down, but the next oldest won’t even be courting for another year and Helen is still in training heels. At this point I think the odds of me lasting that long are slim.” She sighed heavily, and Cherry thought she heard that strange tinkling sound again. Bells? “Honestly if he’s going to do it I hope it’s soon, so the girls have some time to bond with their new mommy before they’re married. A wedding can be just as hard on a girl as it is wonderful, and I’d like them to have the support of a woman who knows them at least a little bit.
Her sigh was the heaviest yet, and she actually thudded her head back against the wall, speaking to the ceiling. “That is assuming Roger keeps my replacement longer than your husband does with his. At Francis’ pace, my little Helen could have three or four new mommies to get used to between my retirement and her wedding.” Her steely gaze came back down to Cherry. “And that is why I don’t care for your husband. I know how you probably feel about him, but he’s a bad influence. He tried courting my oldest, you know, but I held enough sway with Roger back then to put a stop to it. No woman familiar with his reputation wants her daughter married off to him, and most of the local men agree from what I hear. That’s why his recent wives have all been from out of town, yourself included I’m afraid.”
“Why didn’t anyone say anything to me?” Cherry was truly hurt to remember all the smiling, welcoming faces she’d seen that day. Not a hint of sympathy for her fate, not even pity. “I’ve met so many women today, and you’re the first to tell me the truth.”
“Not everyone knows.” Clarissa assured her. “The only time most of Francis’ wives are ever seen is at these Socials, and it’s easy to lose track of how often they change unless you’re paying attention.” But then her voice turned bitter again. “Julia knows, of course, and most of the women she personally introduced you to. Their husbands might not approve of Francis churning through girls, but that doesn’t mean he’s unpopular. Most of the wealthier men get together at Francis’ place at least once a week. Not nearly as often as Roger, but enough for concern. Or it should be.
“Julia and the rest would rather pretend nothing is happening, and that means leaving you in the dark. I bet Julia wanted to chaperone you with the higher class wives to make sure no one let anything slip. I’m actually surprised she introduced you to me, but I guess she knew I’d find you eventually.”
She was suddenly wistful. “I was… quite close with one of your predecessors, Kelly, even before Francis and Roger hit it off. That’s why I originally started keeping track of the new ‘Mrs. Cranes’. My…motivation has changed, though, since Francis seems to have taken Roger under his wing. Hence my tone this morning. Maybe that’s actually why Julia wanted to introduce you to me herself. She knew that’d set me off, and probably hoped it would sour us on each other.”
Cherry scrunched her face in uncertainty.
“But Julia seems so nice…”
“Oh she’s a perfectly pleasant woman. And she’ll do whatever she needs to in order to stay that way. Why do you think it’s taken her this long to invite you? I’d bet she wanted to wait until people had mostly forgotten the previous Mrs. Crane. Her name was Penny, by the way. Those are her shoes you’re wearing. I guess he’s not even bothering to replace the whole wardrobe between wives anymore.”
“Really?” Cherry once again shifted her weight on the uncomfortable pleasers. “They are too small…”
“Yeah, Penny had the cutest little feet.” Clarissa stared off wistfully again, “She was real cute all around, actually. Shy, though. Didn’t go in for the kind of talking I used to do with Kelly, even though I did my best to show her how it’s done. I think you’d like it, though, unless I miss my guess about you.”
“What do you talk about?” Cherry perked up a bit at that, eager to change the topic. Her questions had been answered, much to her dismay, and she was ready to do her best to forget what she’d learned.
“Oh, the content of the conversation doesn’t really matter so long as it’s…reciprocal.” Clarissa practically purred. “I’ll show you next week, in here. My pleaser under the door keeps everyone out but Julia, and she knows to allow us some privacy. Her reluctance to cause a fuss has its advantages. You can even bring a friend, if there’s someone you’d like to talk to…or have talk to you.”
Cherry put on a little pout. “The only girl I would want to bring doesn’t have much to say. She’s on a script.”
“Oh, you’ve got someone picked out already? I knew I was right about you.” Clarissa smiled at her, any hint of reservation gone for the first time. She really was rather friendly, under the gruff exterior. Cherry smiled back. “And don’t worry about your friend, even scripted girls like to give their tongues a little exercise now and then. Assuming she likes you, too?”
“I think she does…” Cherry couldn’t help but flush at the memory of Diane’s goodbye kiss. Probably best she not go into too much detail. Clarissa would likely be shocked to hear of such a thing!
“Well, that’s settled then. We’d better get out of here for now, or Julia will come by to politely tell me off through the door. I’m sure she assumes we’re in here talking.”
Cherry frowned. “Aren’t we?”
There was a sudden tap on the door, the sound of a pleaser making contact on the other side.
“What did I say?” Clarissa grinned and shook her head with a knowing huff. “I swear I’ve got her timing down to a tee…”
Then there was a hard thud. From a fist. Cherry’s eyes widened in shock, and Clarissa’s did the same. There was a man at the door.
Find accompanying notes and illustrations on Slothargy’s DeviantArt and Pixiv