Rating: NC-17, to err on the side of caution.
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the magnificent Emma Donoghue.
A/N: Backtracking all the way to challenge 22 for my first contribution.
When Mary’s lips brushed across the scar on Doll’s cheek, it felt like kissing a tightly-stitched seam that bound together the powdered planes of the elder tart’s face. A patchwork Doll, pieced together same as the second-hand gowns that hung like gaudy ghouls in the garret room, bringing to mind Tyburn’s jig. The chalky taste of powder clung to Mary’s tongue as she worked her way across Doll’s snowy breasts, the rosebud peaks rouged ribbon red. Her fingers stole like a thief between Doll’s indiscriminating thighs.
Doll cackled through the darkness, “Ain’t you the best cully I ever had, Mary Saunders.”