by River Belle
‘Oh God!’ I said, crying out in discomfort as he moved it into me. It felt almost as though I needed to go to the toilet, but there was a deep feeling of intense pleasure underneath everything he did, as he increased his mastery over me. Then, when I thought he’d pushed it all the way in, he squeezed a little harder, and popped the thermometer so far in that only an inch or so remained.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Now, try not to move. When I’m back, I’ll take the temperature.’ He turned, and left the room.
Chapter 62
Although he was only away for five minutes, they were the most agonising minutes of my life. I wanted, more than anything else, to use the juice that was still pumping from my pussy to rub my tender little clit until I had some release. But I was strapped in, unable to move at all, with an uncomfortable glass tube up my backside. I wondered whether my husband knew what kind of treatment I’d be subjected to in this brutal doctor’s chamber, whether he’s fully endorsed it.
When the door swung open again, I was desperately pressing my bottom down into the couch, trying to give myself some relief.
‘Stop that immediately!’ he said, and strode over to me. He grasped the end of the thermometer, and slowly pulled it out. The sensation of it leaving my body was overwhelmingly pleasurable, and I felt pulses beat through my tortured little pussy.
‘Is it normal doctor?’ I said, through a haze of lust, ‘or are you going to need to discipline me further?’ He looked at me.
‘It’s normal. The problem is in your brain. Which means corporal punishment.’ He undid the straps and gently removed the clamp from my pussy, which was now tender and sore, but desperate to be filled.
‘I’m going to lie you across my lap and show you what it means to learn some respect. You’re never going to spill your husband’s seed outside of your cunt again, young lady, do you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Now come and sit on me.’ He took up position on his chair behind the desk.
Shaking with nerves, I walked up to the brute. As I was about to lay down on him, he took an elegant-looking, freshly-pressed white silken handkerchief from his top packet, and carefully laid it across his lap. ‘We don’t want any of Madame’s juices to stain my trousers, do we?’ he asked. I’d never been asked such a vulgar question as this before, and I felt my cheeks start to burn red with embarrassment. I didn’t know what to say, so I carefully laid myself across his lap. I felt almost immediately dizzy, as I’d arranged myself so that my head was quite low down and my behind was sticking straight up in the air. I couldn’t see his face, but I could have sworn that I heard the revolting sound of him licking his lips.
He began to stroke my flesh, pushing my buttocks away from the centre of my behind. He felt so strong, as though he could tear my flesh away from my bone should he so wish, but, for the moment at least, his movements were careful and considered.
‘You have quite an exceptional form, my dear. Quite exceptional. You’ve almost distracted me from my task.’ I felt my little tender pussy being pushed down into the silk of the handkerchief beneath me, my lips squashing into the fine fabric as he rested a heavy hand on me.
‘Now, I’ve got the unhappy task of administering corporal punishment to your backside, my dear. I’m going to smack your bottom so hard that it turns red.’
‘Oh,’ I said, not thinking, ‘please sir, not that.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and I’m sure I heard cruel relish in his voice, ‘I’m afraid it’s my only recourse. It’s the only thing that can cure a depraved mind like yours. You must learn your place! Now, it’s imperative that you thank me after each and every slap, you hear? The punishment is ten slaps, but if you don’t thank me, they won’t count.’ With a final squeeze of my buttock, I felt the Doctor lift his hand away from my flesh, and then, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I felt his heavy hand come smacking down onto me.
My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes widened with the pain of the strike. Little needles of red hot sensation spread out from his fingers across my flesh. I had not expected him to hit me so hard. Shocked, I remained silent.
‘Pardon me?’ said the Doctor, ‘I didn’t quite hear that. We’ll have to start all over again, I’m afraid. What a dreadful shame.’ Then, without any warning, he lifted his hand again and brought it down with a hard, snapping thwack sound on my bottom, even harder than before. I felt my flesh pucker underneath him, as my body struggled to react to the pain it was experiencing. I felt one part of my bottom sting even harder than the other - it must be from his signet ring. Quick, Lillian, say something, I thought to myself.
‘Tha- thank you, Doctor,’ I panted, trying hard to concentrate through the shock.
‘Oh, well done, dear. What a good girl. Well, it was my pleasure.’ As he said pleasure, I’m sure I felt something poking me from his crotch. Was it his… My thoughts were broken by another slap.
‘Thank you,’ I said, as my whole body shifted forward with the power of the smack. I closed my eyes and took the pain, as it radiated around my buttocks, and through my core, all the way round to my little wet quim which shivered underneath me, so close to his rough hands.
Again he beat me, and again I thanked him for it, and with each following strike it became easier to say thank you, even though the pain became more and more severe. I could feel the flesh of my bottom swelling and reddening with each slap as the Doctor marked me, made me his. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you Doctor,’ I said, and I knew that I was thanking him with sincerity, as now each slap had started to make my pussy began to beat with pleasure, with anticipation. I knew he was looking at me there, because with each strike now he was pinching my buttocks and pushing them up so that he could see that secret little place. I knew that I had started to glisten for him. Then, before I knew it, the ten slaps were up.
‘Oh look,’ he said, ‘it seems like someone’s little kitty is positively seeping with all this attention.’ I felt his fingers walking their way back along my rump and settle on the inside of my thighs. ‘I suppose for a bad girl like you, getting smacked on the behind must have made your cunny-skin wet with lust.’ His fat fingers started to slowly stroke the lips of my rose, smoothly stroking my sweet little organ, causing even more nectar to spill from inside me, as I became entirely consumed with a burning passion.
‘Yes, Doctor,’ I whispered, ‘please, my Doctor.’ I could still feel the sting from his hand on my behind, and the memory of the pain mixed with the utter pleasure his hands began to gave me. His finger was the first part of anyone save me to enter the space between my legs, and his hooked, probing fingers discovered for the first time how soft it was inside me, how hot and how quivering my pussy was. He began to slide his thick, wide-knuckled digits into me while making little deep groaning sounds. I could feel my wetness starting to coat his hands, as he plunged now two fingers inside me.
‘What a tight little kitty,’ he murmured to himself, as he started to push harder, deeper into me. My body began twitching as he explored me, and with each confident pound of his fingers, I gave myself more and more to him, to his mastery, to his power, to his perversion. I now imagined him striking my behind again and again as his fingers stretched my flesh, then, suddenly, he moved his other hand to a space just above my opening, to what now felt the centre of my sexual power, and he began to wetly slide his fingers over a hard nub of flesh there. The pleasure, the surprise of it, was like flowers opening at the speed of light in my mind. I felt streaks of hot joy spread instantly over my body and then, black spots appeared in my vision as I began to buckle on top of him, and finally, without thinking, my mouth made a word that I’d never said before, and I exploded with pleasure, as my entire body stiffened and relaxed.
‘Fuck,’ I gasped, my body collapsing in joy over him.
‘Don’t tell the Lord, my dear. I think you are ready for him now, though, don’t you?’
I knew that I was.
PART TE
N
BEING LITTLE FOR THE BARON
Chapter 63
Ever since I’d been a little girl, growing up in my father’s countryside manor, I’d dreamed of one day being presented at the Assembly Rooms in the town of Bath during the social season. Anyone who was anyone would head to that beautiful city of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, to parade around the picturesque gardens, and take the healing waters of the local spa.
Of course, growing up in my father’s household, it had always seemed as though it would only be a matter of time before it was my turn to be wooed and seduced by some rakish young fellow at the Assembly Rooms. My family came from old money, my father being the Duke of Northolme, and as an only child, I’d known that it was my duty to carry on the family line by being married to another old house, maybe the Windsors or the Casterleys. I had been sent to the oldest and finest finishing schools that money could buy, had been taught poetry, dancing, decorum and manners by some of the finest etiquette teachers in the whole of England.
But on my eighteenth birthday, all of my hopes and dreams came crashing down like so much cheap pottery. I was told to report to my father’s study at my earliest convenience by Roberts, the butler, and so I did, after having taken tea in the front room with mother.
‘Don’t get upset at anything your father might divulge to you today, Cecily,’ said mother, sipping Lapsang Suchong from a bone china cup, ‘he’s tried his best to keep everything stable, despite particularly difficult circumstances.’
‘Quite,’ I said, not really knowing to what mother was referring.
I felt unduly nervous as I took the familiar walk to father’s study, past the bookshelves and antique sculpted ornaments. My family had always had expensive tastes, although our collection of artworks had rather diminished in size over the past few years. I’d wondered why it was that father had been selling off the old portraits and sculptures, but had presumed that it had been due to changing tastes or fashions or suchlike. Taking tea with mother always filled my bladder to bursting point, and I considered visiting the water closet on my way to father’s, but knowing he was waiting, I decided not to dally.
I struck father’s old oak door thrice as I had done ever since I could remember, and he called me in. ‘Come on Sissy (a rather obnoxious pet name he had for me), I’ve been waiting for you.’
I was rather taken aback by my father’s appearance behind his desk. He had large, dark bags beneath his eyes, and his normally carefully oiled moustache was lacklustre and drooping; his eyes were bloodshot and there was a general pallid quality to his skin that I’d never seen before.
‘Cecily,’ he said, sighing heavily, ‘I’ve let you down.’
‘Father,’ I said, ‘whatever’s the matter?’
‘I’ve tried to keep it from you for all these years, tried in vain to give you a happy childhood and a contented life, but now that you’re eighteen, you need to know. We are in debt. A suffocating, monstrous amount of debt. For years I’ve struggled to reconcile our paltry incomings with our huge outgoings to no avail, and now I need to tell you that you won’t be going to enjoy the season in Bath next month. I’m afraid that your fate will be quite different.’
I felt the shock grip my body like a frozen vice, and I thought for a moment that I was going to swoon, faint right in front of my father. More worryingly, I felt a tightness and sudden pain in my bladder. The anxiety of my need to urinate, combined with my worry about my change in fortunes was too much to bear. How had they kept this from me? How could they take this away from me like this, after having led me to believe for all these years that becoming a socialite in Bath was my destiny?
‘Father, I,’ I said, trying to hold back the tears which I felt pricking warmly at the corners of my eyes, and the urgent, desperate need to relieve myself, ‘what will be become of me?’
‘I’ve committed to something terrible,’ he said. ‘I’ve agreed, in principle, to your marriage.’
‘My, marriage?’ I asked, desperately afraid, beside myself with wretched rage.
‘Yes,’ said my father. He drew himself up a little, shuffling in his seat, before adjusting his collar a little. I saw beads of sweat on his brow and then, finally, when he was ready, he uttered the words: ‘to the Baron of Halifax.’
It took a second for this to sink in, and then when I finally knew what my fate was, I felt a surge of adrenaline beat round my body. My legs began to shake, and my breast heaved in my bodice as I struggled to breathe. Then, when the cold realization hit me, I felt control slipping away. I looked at my father with imploring anguish, and looked down at my skirts. I felt the warmth of the liquid before I saw the dampness spreading, and the shame I always felt at times like these took hold of me like an old pair of uncomfortable shoes.
‘Oh Sissy, not again,’ said father. I had had a problem with my bladder my whole life, but I usually managed to keep my little accidents under control now that I was older. In times of stress though, I found that I couldn’t control myself. ‘I wonder what your new husband will think of this kind of behavior.’ There was a cold, resolute, pitiless streak in his voice which I didn’t recognise. I sat there, crying in my own filth until the maid came.
Chapter 64
In the following week, I learned a lot about my family, which had been kept secret from me over the years. All of our dirty little secrets, my father’s gambling and my mother’s drinking, Grandfather’s whoring debts and the scabrous clean-picked bones of countless other family scandals. And now it fell to me to settle the family’s debts of course. My maidenhood was the only thing of any worth around here, so of course it had been sold off to the highest bidder. The Baron of Halifax.
His was a name that I knew well, indeed, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that he was quite famous, in fact. The Baron Of Halifax had a reputation for unbridled cruelty and perversion amongst the landed gentry of England. Scarred in a horrific accident when he’d been but a boy, there was no-one in the whole country who lay with more harlots, who drank more liquor, who fought in more duels. There where whispered rumours of his perversions, the sort of thing which those in polite company dare not discuss with each other. I’d overheard the maids talking about him as I bathed one evening.
‘They say he puts nappies on his wenches,’ said the older one, cackling like a mad old goat.
‘Aye, and he likes ‘em young and all, that filthy old pervert,’ said the other, as she scraped the laundry along the washboard.
‘Mind you, if what they say about ‘is sausage is true, I wouldn’t mind a nibble!’ The two wretched old hags fell about themselves laughing, and I closed the cracked door fully, once more on the verge of tears.
The following day, after begging my forgiveness over and over again, my father had explained to me the terms of the engagement into which I’d been sold. Because the Baron had never seen me, he was going to perform an ‘examination’ on me the following Monday, to ensure that the ‘goods were to his satisfaction’. I couldn’t believe the way that everyone seemed to be talking about me, objectifying me as though I was a piece of meat. Even my father was involved in the lewdness, in the unbelievably uncouth goings on.
‘You are,’ he paused, trying to come up with the right words, ‘whole, aren’t you? You know, down there?’
This time, there was no stopping the tears.
‘If you mean have I let some nobody take my maidenhood, the answer is no! But I bloody well wish I had, now that I know for whom I’ve been protecting it. I wish I’d laid with the gardener, or the butler, or anyone at…’
My father flung his hand round and slapped me hard across my face. I felt the shock and the shame of it more than the actual pain. He’d never so much as laid a finger on me before.
‘Now listen here, you stupid girl, there’s a lot about the world that you don’t understand. We’ve fed and raised you since the day you were born and all you’ve ever done is asked for more and got what you wanted. It’s time that yo
u paid your way, and the only talent you’ve got for sale is right there between your legs!’ his face was a mask of fury. I searched my heart, trying to think of something to say to him, but I knew, deep down, that he was right.
‘Now make sure that you wear this for your meeting with the Baron,’ he said, throwing a slim cardboard box down onto the table in front of me. I saw a lick of pink satin fall out from under the lid. ‘He’s given express instructions that you must be wearing that dress.’
‘Yes father,’ I said, still feeling the shame of the slap burning my face.
Chapter 65
The arrival of the Baron was the talk of the entire estate. I had everyone from the cook to the errand boy ask me whether I was excited, or nervous to be meeting my new husband. I gave the same answer to everyone who asked: ‘We’re not married yet, and he might not even like the way I look, so let’s not be too eager to call him my husband, shall we?’