Elemental Thirsts

The furnaces stood in two parallel rows at the foot of the excavated hillside above the wharf and the stables. Staggered burnings took place day and night; by night the lower hill-slope seemed festooned with glowing broken teeth. While one furnace was alight another was being emptied and yet another was being filled with charcoal from the wharf-side heaps and ironstone and limestone from the hillside. Below the end of the lower row of furnaces stood a small brew-house, and at the door to the brew-house stood the two girls. Danime opened the door and urged Lena inside.

A warm aromatic shroud of humidity enveloped Lena. Even the glazed brick floor was damp and warm to her naked feet. Danime drew her by the arm, past large wooden vats and barrels and pipework then barrows and buckets of sprouting grain.
'Can you smell the malt?' Danime asked, scooping up a handful and offering it to Lena, who picked a grain and tasted it suspiciously.

'Good?' Danime asked.

Suddenly there was a noise from above and a white-bearded, enquiring face appeared over the balcony. 'Artur!' Danime cried and the old man immediately dropped the wooden paddle he was holding and hurried open-armed down the rickety stairs. Danime ran to greet him, flinging her arms about him and kissing him with such intimate familiarity that Lena felt embarrassed. Finally the old man chided Danime softly: 'Enough now – my new assistant is hoisting grain.' He pointed up the stairs. 'You wouldn't want to make a young man jealous.' Then his pale blue gaze turned to Lena. 'And who is this gentle friend?'

'I am Lena, my lord.'

'Please – call me Artur.' He extended his hand; the skin felt warm and soft, the grip reassuring. 'I see you wear the token. Mind it not: in here, Lena, we have neither lords nor slaves; we are all honest workers, who treat as we find. I assume our gracious Gangmaster has sent you to assist?' He turned to Danime, who simply nodded.

'Good,' he said. 'We have a job for you. Wheel this barrel of beer up to the firemen on the terraces. Ines will show you. And Ines, no dallying up there. We don't want to incur our good Gangmaster's displeasure.'

The barrel pivoted upright in a two-wheeled frame resembling a handcart. The girls each took a handle and Artur opened the double doors. Lena waited until they were out in the open before asking Danime: 'What did he mean, no dallying?'

Danime looked back at Lena in silence. Then she turned and set off pulling the cart before finally whispering: 'The Gangmaster caught me with them once. He gets jealous.'

'Does he . . . does he use you?' Danime didn't answer but her expression told that he did. But then there was the forward way she behaved towards Artur. Again, Lena wondered at this girl, here such a short time yet already appearing to court dalliance with one and all.

They continued up the gently sloping track towards the furnaces. Then Lena risked an oblique remark about Artur.

Danime was irked. 'Have you never done it with an old man, Lena?' Lena was obliged to admit that she had. Danime continued: 'Artur is a good man. I get pleasure with him and he makes no demands – he is nothing like the Gangmaster. I am a free girl and I go with Artur as and when I choose.'

'But if you are a free girl, why put up with the Gangmaster?' Once again, Danime didn't answer but her expression was forlorn. Lena stopped and put her hand on Danime's.

'No – it's all right,' Danime whispered. 'Come on.' They pressed on steadily up the track. Danime seemed to brighten as the clamour increased, but now Lena was growing anxious. She could see swiftly moving figures starkly silhouetted against the fiery glow, rods or shovels in their hands. Everyone was shouting. There were men working giant bellows that drove the heat. Every few seconds there was a roar and sheets of flame rose into the blackness. The air was filled with the smell of burning charcoal and hot metal. A figure was poking a rod into the mouth of the furnace at the far end; sparks were flying; then a fountain of molten metal erupted into a pit on the ground.

'Here – put these on!' Danime shouted, handing Lena a pair of wooden clogs. 'Hot cinders. Be careful.' Once shod, the two girls continued their advance, Danime leading and Lena pushing the barrel from behind. They came to a standstill in the middle of the terrace. 'We can't go any closer – not on this level,' Danime shouted. Lena was thankful for this at least. The heat from the furnaces was like the burning sun on a cloudless day: she could feel it through the front of her shirt and her trousers; her face felt as if it was scorching. Yet her back felt cold. Most of the workers wore long aprons, with gloves and hats; some wore only loincloths and clogs. Danime's gaze was upon one particular group of these semi-naked men. Lena edged away as, in twos and threes, they started drifting over to the beer station and Danime began smoothing her hair.

Lena stood back and watched the men chatting, filling their mugs and quaffing their beer. She thought she remembered one or two of them from the occasion of her punishment at the meal hall. Danime seemed to know several by name; she was laughing and talking freely with them. They kept looking over at Lena, then asking Danime something. Lena heard only fragments of what Danime answered – 'She's shy,' then later, 'Oh, yes – very much so,' and 'I'm sure she would if we . . .'

Ears burning, Lena had no alternative but to approach and appear sociable, if only to curtail such talk. But first she drew Danime aside to admonish her. 'What were you saying about me?'

'They've heard you're a runaway slave. They want to know what a slave girl does, and what rights they, as free men, might hold over you – whether you can be held in common or whether you're like the paid girls that visit here each month. See, Lena – they are very polite. They ask first.'

Danime's complicitous tone was making Lena very anxious. 'What did you tell them?' Lena whispered.
'I told them to treat you as a free girl, with the right of choice and refusal.'

'A free girl – like you?'

'Just so, though far more attractive and loving.' Danime took Lena gently in her arms and kissed her in front of all the men, provoking some jeering but mostly sighs of approval. When Lena, with Danime's arms still round her, found the courage to look properly at the men, they did not seem quite so hostile as she had feared. One of them proffered his mug of beer, which she took with a smile of thanks and sipped.

'She's a good one,' someone said. Then another: 'Did you see how she took that belting from the Gangmaster? That bastard!' And then: 'She's a tough one. She'd make a fire-girl, I'm betting.'

Lena felt the emotion welling. She couldn't speak, beyond thanking them and smiling; she was content to listen and to let Danime do the talking. The men spoke of workaday things – problems with the firings and poor charcoal; they joked and complimented Danime on the drink. As Lena relaxed a little, she began to see what Danime found attractive in these men – some, at least. With the fire-glow reflecting from their sweat-glistened figures, they resembled the perfectly proportioned bronze statues she had once admired in the Abbey, except that these figures were living, breathing, warm and sentient. When she glanced across, Danime's eyes met hers with a knowing gaze.

After a while, Lena became aware of shouting from the terrace above. Danime said: 'Come on, Lena. We're late for the boys at the top.' But before departure, Danime had a brief whispered conversation with two of the younger men. Lena felt sure it had been to arrange an assignation.

The late arrival of the beer station on the upper terrace was greeted with some good-natured jeering but, once again, Lena was impressed by the warmth and kindness of these men. Danime introduced her and again there were s**thing comments about the Gangmaster. It gave Lena increasing concern as to what might happen if they were late getting back.

'There's plenty of time,' Danime said with a laugh. 'Besides, Artur would never tell on us. And there's something I want you to see.'

She took Lena by the hand, leading her away from the beer station to a small alcove in the rock face at the end of the terrace. The men had extended the natural roofing with canvas sheeting in order to fashion a shelter. It had a brightly lit brazier at each end and with the radiant heat from the adjacent furnace it was very warm indeed. There were tables, a few chairs and a hollowed-out area at the rear with several mattresses, all unoccupied.

Danime picked up a torch from a heap and made Lena do the same. Then Danime lit her torch at the brazier. 'No – don't light yours yet,' she said, 'Come on,' and led her to the back of the shelter. There, in the broken shadows of the rough rock face, was a narrow defile. 'It's a cave they broke into when sinking footings for a furnace. It goes right into the hill and down under our feet. It's beautiful – magical,' Danime murmured, her eyes glittering.

Apprehensively, Lena allowed her friend to lead her down the uneven sloping floor, into a narrow blackness licked by the tongues of torchlight. The air was cool and still; the only sounds were the spitting of the torch, the sc**** of clogs on rock, and Lena's tense breathing. The walls were smooth but the floor was broken. Then ahead Lena heard the hollow drip of water into pools, then a faint bubbling and trickling before the floor levelled and felt sandy and the cavern widened and the roof lifted high. 'Here – light your torch with mine,' Danime whispered, and when she did, Lena was filled with awe at the vision that opened out before her.

Beautiful curtains of smoothly sculpted coloured stone adorned the walls; shapes like icicles hung from the roof and dripped into a glass-clear pool of water. Everywhere were streaks of colour, from the blackest blue through azure to orange and blood-red. The rippling sheen of water on the walls made them appear soft and gelatinous; Lena touched them but they too were stone.
‘Over here,’ Danime said. On the banks of the far end of the pool stood a group of flagons, and a stone encrusted metal cup on a chain bolted to the floor. A stream of tiny bubbles was rising from the bottom of the pool, causing an upwelling of the still surface.

‘Is it hot?’ asked Lena.

‘No – it’s the spring. The bubbles are air or something. Feel it.’

‘You first.’

Danime slotted her torch into one of several rings high in the wall then, crouching, scooped up a handful of the bubbling water and drank. ‘Taste it, Lena. It’s lovely.’

Lena had to agree: it was cold and deliciously fresh, slightly sweet yet with a very faint but pleasant bitterness, and the tiny bubbles seemed to keep forming around her tongue, as if the air was still escaping from the liquid. Lena cupped her palm and took another drink. ‘Refreshing. Nice. It makes you want more.’

‘Exactly. So, hang your torch up and get some.’ Danime picked up the chained cup. ‘When they broke into the cave, this was already here. The place must once have been a shrine.’

‘To what?’

‘To love and beauty,’ Danime mused, gazing around her, then laughing at Lena’s frown. Soon the two girls were drinking freely. Then Danime said: ‘I keep a flagon of it hidden in the brew-house and another, disguised with perfume, under my bed.’
‘Why hidden and disguised?’

‘The Gangmaster forbids it – says it’s bad water. But if it makes you feel good, how can that be bad?’

Lena was becoming apprehensive. ‘What does Artur say?’

‘He tried the water once and it certainly worked on him. I think he might use it in secret, now.’

‘What do you mean – “worked”?’

‘You know – with a man . . . It makes him fitter and stronger. I know some of the firemen use it.’

‘The ones you were whispering to?’

‘Why shouldn’t a girl banter with a good-looking boy?’ But Lena suspected there was more involved than talk. ‘Didn’t you think them handsome, Lena?’ Lena admitted she did. ‘Then you should see what the water does to them – especially Finn.’ She then described him intimately.

‘Have you . . . you know – with the firemen, with Finn . . . ?’ Lena asked.

Danime took another sip of the water and smiled decadently. ‘It works on girls too.’

‘You too, I’ll wager. Let me look.’

‘No!’

But Danime smothered her protests with gently insistent kisses. ‘Let me look, I say,’ she whispered softly in Lena’s ear. The gentle kissing – in her neck, now – and the soft, seductive breathing against her ear melted the little resistance that Lena felt. In truth, Lena found it acutely arousing to have the girl unfasten her trousers in the hush of this secret place. All her senses were on tiptoe as the naked coolness touched her belly in the flickering torchlight. The anticipation of those delicate, slender, expert fingers stirred feelings of lewdness far more than all the talk of potent waters. Yet even as those fingers touched, seeking gently to open her at the front, and her trembling legs bowed wide to oblige, the faintly bitter aftertaste of that water lingered as a pleasant dryness that fuelled the desire to continue to drink.

‘It’s here and it’s coming on hard, poking its little head up,’ Danime whispered. She pulled the trousers from Lena’s ankles and carefully replaced her clogs. Then she reached back, filled the chained cup with water and placed it on the floor between Lena’s feet. Lena heard her dipping her fingers in.

‘Oh, no,’ she whispered but she wanted it and the anticipation was delicious.

‘Oh, yes,’ Danime crooned as Lena gasped and the icy cold fingers touched and pushed the fleshy hood back and the icy wet drips drenched Lena’s knob. ‘Oh, yes – see, it’s not even shrinking from the cold, it’s coming harder.’ Lena could feel it, swelling, drawing all the blood from its surround until the thinned skin of her hood had retreated and tightened to a noose that only caused the knob to swell harder. Even when Danime withdrew her fingers, Lena could feel it still standing proud. ‘Here, crouch and let it drink.’ She filled the cup to the brim.

‘Oh, no . . . please . . .,’ Lena whispered weakly but again, even as Danime made her crouch to take it, Lena wanted it this way. She wanted to be made to do these sexual things while she was so aroused. Very slowly Danime offered up the brimming cup between Lena’s legs. The jewelled chain tinkled, then Lena shuddered as her knob and labia were suddenly plunged into the freezing prickling water and the involuntary contraction drew the rush of tiny bubbles up inside. Danime kept lifting the cup until it overflowed and all of Lena’s sex was submerged, the rim of the cup pressing into the sensitive place at the very top of each thigh. Danime kissed Lena again while Lena crouched with knees akimbo and Danime kept the cup tightly in place as Lena’s sex slowly drowned in the icy water.
Then Danime slipped her fingers over the front lip of the cup to massage Lena’s knob very gently. She started to milk it. ‘Pee,’ she murmured lewdly. ‘Pee into the water; make the cup overflow and I shall drink it.’ Lena shook her head, gasping while Danime’s depraved fingertips pried a little further within to stimulate the secret aperture where the pee comes out. She tried to push the tip of her little finger into it and the peculiar pleasure-pressure made Lena moan.

Danime made her stand. ‘Turn round.’ Lena faced the smoothly fluted cavern wall with its sheen of running water. She felt Danime’s fingers slipping up between her legs from behind, slipping up into her sex and pushing her swollen knob out until it touched the freezing wall. The water drizzled over it, tickling, making fizzy bubbles where it touched the skin, stirring the need to come. Gently Danime pressed and Lena’s knees locked. Gasping, she collapsed, arms outstretched against the wall. Then Danime’s other hand came round to the front, gently cleaving the labia open, carefully feeling for the pee-hole, pressing the tiny mouth.

‘Do it,’ she whispered into Lena’s ear. Lena tried but, though she wanted to be lewd, it would not come.

‘I can feel the little mouth pushing out,’ Danime murmured. ‘It has a tiny rim, nice to touch, nice to tap – can you feel the tapping; is it good?’

Then Lena moaned and a kind of pleasure came – stiltedly, not deeply, for she was frightened of losing control and peeing while the pleasure was coming; yet the feeling of being touched exactly there was deeply sexual. It felt as if a narrow stiff rod of flesh had been inserted up her pee-hole, for the finger-tapping at its tip reverberated all the way up inside her. The tapping gently diminished and Danime’s fingers slid away.

She turned Lena round. Lena’s saturated shirt-front clung against her nipples, which Danime fingered through the cloth. ‘Keep your legs open for me. You need to drink some more, so you won’t be able to hold it from me. Then I need to watch and feel while it comes out. Understood?’

Lena closed her eyes in abdication. The profound need to embrace submission welled in her throat; a knot of deliciously sexual nausea tightened within her belly. She felt Danime undoing the buttons of her shirt and drawing the flaps open. Then Danime reached and touched, not the breasts, but the knot of Lena’s belly, standing out as if a fist were thrusting from inside it. Again, a feeling like an orgasm came, though Danime was not touching her knob or even her pee-hole. ‘The water’s working,’ Danime whispered. ‘Now, some more – as much as you can drink. And keep your legs open so I can see and feel.’

The water dripped from the cup and ran in trickles between Lena’s breasts. Danime encouraged the trickles by tipping the cup too far; when the flow reached Lena’s sex, Danime’s fingers intercepted it and wetly, gently kept her open, touching, pressing there, keeping the feelings lewd and strong.

Then Lena heard a noise quite different from the cavern sounds of running water – the echo of footsteps. ‘What’s that?’ She turned her head in terror towards the approaching light.

‘No – stay still. Don’t try to cover up. They won’t hurt you. I asked them to meet us.’

‘Who?’