Their Master's Pleasure (2 page)

And so it went on. I had not specified the number of strokes, but in the end it was two dozen I dispensed. I paused after each six to examine her posterior and allow her a short rest. Not all spankers do this, but it was a habit of mine, one so ingrained and routine I did it without thinking. Another of my trademarks was to order a change of position after each dozen, but on this occasion I did not. Varying one's technique keeps the victim anxious and uncertain, wondering what might happen next - and naturally fearing the worst.

Following the final stroke, which was harder than the rest, I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Her buttocks were striped with narrow red tramlines, marks typical of a cane-like implement. She trembled as she glanced back over her shoulder and I noticed her cheeks were wet. A freshly cut stick such as this, briskly applied, will certainly sting, so I didn't think any the less of my ward for being unable to hold back the tears. In fact she had taken the beating bravely and with minimum fuss - unlike certain other members of the household I could think of. Such fortitude deserved a reward.

‘Stay in position,' I growled.

She faced forward instantly. I dropped the holly wand and stepped up close behind her, reaching around to her groin. As my middle finger slipped into her slit - already wet, I noticed - she gave another gasp. Though it sounded not unlike her previous utterances, this was an exclamation of pure pleasure. I began to finger her in earnest and soon her hips were gyrating and she was moaning faintly.

Having a soft, wriggling young woman impaled on your finger is hardly the most grievous of predicaments in which to find oneself and I intended to make the most of it. I had planned to keep her standing there for a lengthy period, bringing her to climax excruciatingly slowly - a subtle form of torture I like to employ from time to time - but my own needs were rapidly becoming urgent, so I ordered her into the rowing boat. I held her hand as she stepped down into the shallow craft, which rocked precariously, then joined her. Victoria was soon ensconced on the seat facing the stern, with myself in the middle of the boat. I had her lay back, whereupon I spread her legs and lifted them over the sides of the boat. As my ward seemed somewhat alarmed at the craft's unsteady motion, I did something guaranteed to distract her: I leaned forward and began to lick her slit.

I focussed my attentions on her clitoris and soon she was panting in a most entrancing fashion as her hips twitched and jerked. A few minutes of this and I was feeling more than a little heated myself, so I sat up and unfastened my trousers, releasing my cock. I moved over Victoria, paused for just a second to gaze into her misted eyes and grin wickedly, then plunged inside her. She squealed with pleasure and bucked beneath me. Soon the boat was rocking violently, but my ward no longer cared and neither did I. If fate had a mind to overturn the thing and drown the pair of us, so be it. James Montague, for one, could think of far worse ways to go.

 

 

 

‘Do you have any excuse to offer for this lamentable behaviour, Rose?' I asked.

We were in the study, Victoria, Rose and myself. Upon returning to the hall following a long and most enjoyable dalliance in the boathouse, I had rung for the kitchen maid and repeated Victoria's allegation of rudeness. Rose did not deny the charge and indeed seemed remarkably subdued for once. I thought she might offer in her defence the fact that she was overworked, or that it was highly irregular for a kitchen maid to be asked to groom hair in the first place. Ours was a most unusual household when it came to the scheduling of tasks and undoubtedly the servants
were
overworked as a result. When I became master of Bleekston Hall, my first act was to dismiss those members of staff who failed to meet my requirements. For the females the criterion was simple - if they submitted to corporal punishment they could stay, if not, then out they must go. For the men it was hardly more complicated - if they were prepared to follow orders efficiently and respectfully, and support their new master's disciplining of the fairer sex, I was happy to retain them. If not, they too were free to seek employment elsewhere.

The results were disappointing to say the least, for we lost the butler, both footmen, the housekeeper, governess, cook and half a dozen maids. It's true that with the help of Charlie Spikeman - a dubious underworld character with a finger in every pie and a nose for human frailty - I had managed to locate a new governess, cook and two maids who fitted the bill, but our situation here remained far from ideal. Although that could not fully excuse Rose's behaviour, I thought she might at least plead extenuating circumstances in a bid for leniency, but she chose to remain silent.

‘So be it,' I said, crossing to the cupboard that held my day collection, a dozen or so implements of various kinds and differing weights. In view of my ward's lack of expertise in this field I selected the lightest paddle, being considerably easier to use than cane or tawse - it is difficult to miss the target with such a broad-bladed implement, for one thing.

‘Twelve strokes,' I announced, handing the paddle to my ward, ‘which Miss Victoria will deliver as she deems appropriate.'

Rose looked startled and I thought she must surely speak up at last, but the words never came. Knowing the maid's prickly nature only too well, I wondered how long this apparent meekness would last.

‘Take off your clothes,' Victoria said. ‘Every last stitch.'

I was somewhat surprised at this instruction until I remembered my ward knew no other way. From the very start, her governess and I had insisted Victoria strip naked for punishment. The idea of removing just her drawers, say, would seem utterly foreign to her.

Rose undressed, though not without a misgiving glance or two in my direction. Though she too was no stranger to nudity, it was in my company alone; Victoria's presence made familiar situations strange and uncertain. As the unfortunate maid removed the final garment - her drawers - her hands moved to cover her nakedness, though she had never exhibited such shyness with me.

‘Keep your arms by your sides!' Victoria commanded.

Rose obeyed instantly, whereupon Victoria proceeded to walk slowly around her looking her up and down. Rose was a tallish young woman, dark-haired and slender. In truth, I prefer women with more meat on their bones, but one cannot always pick and choose. She passed the crucial test in that she was always prepared - though never keen - to endure a thrashing. As to the performing of her duties, she was reasonably skilled, if perhaps a little clumsy at times.

‘Clasp your hands behind your neck and bend forward,' Victoria said.

The kitchen maid did so. Victoria positioned herself behind and slightly to the left of her victim, grasped the paddle firmly in both hands and delivered an almighty swipe to the maid's proffered posterior. The crack as it contacted her flesh, remarkably loud as it might be, was matched in volume by Rose's shriek of pain. She stumbled forward, only recovering her balance with difficulty. I was most thankful I had picked the light paddle as anything heavier would most likely have knocked the poor girl clean off her feet.

Having declared openly that Victoria was at liberty to deliver the twelve strokes ‘as she deemed appropriate', it would be most unfair of me to criticise her technique. Nevertheless, I felt duty bound to intervene in the interests of justice.

‘A noble stroke indeed, Victoria,' I said, stepping forward and placing my hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘Any spanker would be proud to have delivered it. My dear old grandfather himself, rest his soul, would not have been ashamed of such a whack.'

‘Thank you, uncle,' she said guardedly, plainly sensing I was unhappy about something. ‘Shall I... shall I then continue?'

‘Pray do so, my dear, but if I may be allowed to make a small observation? Many floggers of my acquaintance consider that such a fine stroke may beneficially be followed by others somewhat less... vigorous, shall we say? It keeps the penitent guessing, wondering if that first blistering delivery is to be repeated; and keeping her guessing is always a good thing. It isn't essential that it
be
repeated, you understand - the memory of it alone is like the sword of Damocles hanging over the victim's head.'

Victoria nodded slowly and I saw comprehension in her eyes.

‘It is simply a suggestion, my dear,' I murmured soothingly, stepping back. ‘You are in charge here, there's no question of that. The decision is yours and yours alone.'

‘Thank you, Uncle James,' she said with a smile. ‘I shall certainly consider it... in future.'

She turned to Rose, who had watched the brief exchange anxiously, and told her to resume the position. The maid did so, though clearly with no great relish. Victoria hefted her weapon once more and swung. She had obviously taken my words to heart, for the blow was considerably less forceful than its predecessor. Rose's reaction was almost identical, however, and I realised my impromptu little speech contained more than a grain of truth. Deceived by Victoria's ambiguous reply (my ward plainly had a talent for this game) Rose was expecting another scorcher and had reacted accordingly. It was most edifying, I have to say, and more than a little amusing.

Victoria gave her a further four, then stepped away. Watching her as she stood there, slapping the paddle lightly against her palm and studying Rose's posterior thoughtfully, brought my own mannerisms into sharp relief. Victoria was mimicking me, yet I was quite certain she was not conscious of the fact. This was no attempt at mockery; it was simply that, again, she knew no other way.

After a couple of minutes Victoria moved close to her victim once more. The second and final six were duly delivered and I wasn't in the least surprised to note that the last stroke, though still some way short of that first cracking delivery, was considerably firmer than the rest. Rose yelped and started to rise, no doubt thankful her ordeal was over.

‘Stay down!' Victoria snapped, her voice remarkably authoritative for one so young. ‘You haven't been given permission to move. Any more of this and it will be extras for you, young lady.'

Rose quickly resumed the stance. Without another word, Victoria approached her from behind, slipped her hand below the cleft in the maid's buttocks and ran a finger swiftly along the unsuspecting young woman's slit. I'm not sure who was the more astonished, Rose or myself. Rose's reaction was by far the more voluble, however, for she squawked in alarm and shot up straight, a look of utter consternation on her face. ‘Miss... Miss Victoria...' she stammered, her voice decidedly tremulous, ‘what are... what are you doing?'

I can truthfully say I have never seen Rose so ill at ease. Though normally a most enthusiastic and energetic partner between the sheets - the ‘hidden talents' I referred to earlier - being touched in so intimate a fashion by another woman was clearly a novel and deeply disturbing experience for her.

Victoria did not even deign to answer, but ordered her victim to resume the position immediately. Rose did so, though not happily and not without a baleful look in my direction. I imagine she was hoping for a reprieve, but I was enjoying the performance far too much to intervene a second time. The hapless young woman leaned forward once more, trembling and biting her lip, and placed her hands behind her head. Once again Victoria approached and once again her finger sought out the maid's slit. Rose warbled at the contact but managed to hold the stance, to her credit. Victoria was relentless, fingering her distraught victim in so confident and proficient a manner, I knew she had been practising on herself. She inserted two fingers and frigged Rose rapidly, then used her free hand to tickle the maid's clitoris. Rose's shivering ceased, her soft wails taking on a different tone as her hips rocked back and forth. Victoria too seemed deeply engrossed in the proceedings: there was an absorbed look on her face and a flush on her cheeks that had little to do with exertion, I was sure.

After a good ten minutes of this, with Rose - to judge from the sounds she was making - perilously close to climax, Victoria's manipulations slowed then stopped altogether. Perhaps her timing was simply unfortunate, or perhaps it was deliberate. If the latter, then my ward possessed a cruel streak the depths of which I had never suspected. Whatever the truth of it, she paused and turned to me.

Before she could speak, however, her distraught victim made a plea of her own. ‘Please, mistress,' Rose moaned, ‘don't stop, I beg of you.'

‘Be silent!' Victoria said sharply, with little apparent sympathy for the poor maid's predicament. ‘Patience is a virtue, as the vicar often reminds us. Whatever would Reverend Wilkins think if he could hear and see you now?'

For myself, I considered it very likely the man would suffer an apoplexy, but kept the thought to myself as Victoria turned to me once more. ‘Uncle, would you have some phallic object to hand?'

The request was so totally unexpected that, for a moment or two, I gaped like the village idiot. Recovering my wits, I walked over and unlocked the door to the room that housed my pride and joy - my full collection of spanking implements. There were literally hundreds of the things, ancient and modern, hanging on pegs in neat rows. There were canes and straps, lashes and riding crops, paddles and whips galore from the four corners of the globe. I have seen many fine collections of such items in my time, but none, though I say so myself, to match my own. It was started by my grandfather and I have added to it in my turn. A peer of my acquaintance recently offered me a thousand guineas for it. Suffice it to say, I was not even remotely tempted.