Flowers of the Nanny
The nanny found her right where they’d left her. Huddled in the empty bathtub. The creature wasn’t really her nanny, just an ashen human-like creature swathed with robes more modest than a nun’s.
Mina hugged her knees, shivering in the cold air. Cracks lined the bathroom walls. The second largest one ran horizontally above the tub’s rim. The gray light bleeding through the cracks dimly illuminated the room. It would have been dark otherwise. The nanny didn’t like windows.
They knelt beside the tub, looking down at the naked young woman. Mina pressed her eyes closed. She knew she shouldn’t have run away. Shouldn’t have tried to end the sewing sooner. But she hated being the mannequin. It hurt so much, standing still to let the other women model the clothes on her. And Trina’s hand always shook at the worst time.
Mina could feel how the cold air inflamed the cuts and pinpricks on her body. The nanny helped her sit up in the tub. Mina wondered if they would bathe her then and there, but the nanny instead rose to their feet, guiding Mina to stand with them.
She didn’t want to. But she had disobeyed the nanny enough. The nanny unhooked the special cuff around Mina’s mouth. It was an odd shape, specially formed to mold to the young woman’s face. Hers was the red one, her name etched in silver. It smelled like cedarwood, Mina’s favorite scent.
She gasped as the gag was removed. “I know I shouldn’t have run off--but it was so cold today, Nanny, I couldn’t--”
The nanny cupped Mina’s chin. They smiled, their lips distending into two long rows of sharp teeth. Their tongue, long and black, lashed out, worming between the young woman’s chapped lips.
Mina knew she shouldn’t fight it. The nanny always kissed them when they wanted the girls to think on their sins. But Mina had to explain why today was different. Perhaps the nanny would understand. She pulled her head back, but they didn’t give her much room. She could barely get a word out before they owned her mouth again.
“Nanny--mmph!--please--memory--!”
The nanny stopped at once. Memory was something they didn’t like either. They titled Mina’s face until she looked in their eyes.
“It--it was a bad memory, Nanny,” she stammered, eyes pricked with tears.
The nanny nodded and licked her forehead. They were not angry.
Mina was guided back downstairs.
In the main room, f women sat on the wooden floor. Bits of fabric lay everywhere; tulle, taffeta, even some satin, but not a stitch on the women. Not on sewing days.
Perhaps the nanny believed they would create more beautiful clothes if they wore none themselves. The chill autumn wind drifted in from the open french doors. The young women worked faster if they felt chilly.
The draft left goosebumps on Mina’s body. The tub hadn’t been warm, but it had been a welcome reprieve from the open air of this much larger space.
The others looked up as the pair returned. Each of the women had a gag fitted to her face, with her own unique color and name. And scent.
They didn’t look at Mina, only the nanny. She was grateful.
The nanny patted the nearest girl’s head. Then they led Mina to place where she would stand as mannequin.
The nanny drew her arms back, gently. Mina drew in a breath as they tied a skyblue sash around her elbows. The sash was wrapped around her left arm, down to her wrists, which were then bound, too.
A gust of wind blew in. Mina shivered. Her skin felt raw, her nipples hardened and sore. Her eyes darted around the room, desperate as she felt the nanny pin several cloth flowers to the sash binding her.
From behind, the nanny’s hands slipped down her sides, outlining her figure. Her companions’ eyes followed the motion, taking note. Mina’s heart sank. The women would be tasked to use her again.
The tears she had been fighting to hold back slipped out. The nanny circled in front of her. A clicking sound purred from their throat and Mina shook her head quickly.
“I am repentant,” she said, “I will accept my punishment.”
In answer, the nanny fastened the crimson gag over Mina’s lips.
Then, taking one of the cloth flowers, the nanny gently pressed it within Mina’s folds. Buckling, she ground her thighs together, knowing she mustn’t let the flower fall.
Taking a bit of resin, the nanny massaged it over each of Mina’s nipples. She moaned into her gag. The resin held the dampness in the air.
Instead of cloth flowers, the nanny produced two daisies from the folds of their robes. The other women looked at one another in wonder.
Outside the autumn stripped the trees; the decay of leaves wafted through the open door. Where had the Nanny gotten living flowers from?
A tear slipped down Mina’s cheek. The daisies were fresh, her favorite flower. Plucking the stems off, the nanny pressed the flower buds over Mina’s nipples.
For a moment, the nanny surveyed their work. Being examined so closely, Mina couldn’t help posing herself in a way to appear more…beautiful?
It seemed wrong, didn’t it? This was her punishment. Of course the nanny didn’t care how she looked. This was only a lesson to be learnt.
As if reading her mind, the nanny drew out a knife. With a quick motion, they slit their ashen wrist. Thick, dark blood oozed from the cut.
The women reacted, eyes filled with worry. Ina, the eldest, half-rose to her feet, but the nanny bade her settle with a motion of their hand.
Pressing their thumb against the trickle of blood, the nanny began to write on Mina’s chest.
Beautiful.
They pressed more blood out. Stepping closer, they traced the letters between Mina’s breasts. Tensing, she moaned into her gag as the nanny’s fingers worked down her navel
Precious.
The blood wasn’t coming as quickly now. It pooled over itself, dripping from their arm. They leaned down, pulling Mina closer. Upon her womb, they wrote a final word.
Priceless.
For the rest of the sewing day, Mina stood there, blood dripping down her body. The daisies were stained red. The others looked at her from time to time. She could see in their eyes how they wondered why she had run off and disobeyed the nanny.
She must be grateful that the nanny made her so beautiful.
