The Rescue

by B. A. Bradbury

  THE RESCUE

  by

  B. A. BRADBURY

  The Rescue first published as an eBook in 2013 by Chimera eBooks.

  ISBN 9781780803791

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera (ki-mir'a, ki-) a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy...

  New authors are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright B. A. Bradbury. The right of B. A. Bradbury to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  Chapter 1

  In my twenty-ninth year, my grandfather and I received an invitation to attend a 'spanking weekend' at Cropton Manor, the home of Lord and Lady Newburn, near the village of Chapsom Parva in Kent. My grandfather was by that time too frail to travel, but insisted I attend nevertheless.

  'The century is almost ended, Jamie,' he said, 'and my generation of spankers along with it. Time to hand over the reins to younger folk. This Lord Newburn is a fine fellow, by all accounts, and he's on good terms with some very influential people. You must go and make his acquaintance.'

  Advice from my grandfather was not to be squandered, for the man was a god to me. It was he who'd raised me, my mother having died bringing me into this world and my father just a few short years after. A spanker his whole life long, my grandfather had trained me thoroughly in the noble art, as his maids could testify. It was a rare night indeed when one of them at least didn't cast off the bedclothes to cool her hot, sore bottom.

  On the morning in question, shortly after dawn, I set off for Chapsom Parva. As she so often does, however, Fate had a say in the matter, for my horse threw a shoe on the way and I arrived several hours late. As I rode up the drive I heard a rustling noise off to my right and caught a glimpse of something pale flitting through the dense shrubbery.

  I reined in, but all was quiet and the pale object failed to reappear. I was about to move on when I heard a faint whimper. Intrigued, I dismounted and pushed into the thick undergrowth to investigate. To my astonishment I found a young woman hiding behind a bush, entirely naked but for a red mask over her eyes. She looked fragile and vulnerable, crouching there in the thicket, shivering like some hunted animal. When she saw me staring she rose slowly to her feet.

  She was slender and not too tall, no more than eighteen years of age, I guessed, with auburn hair arranged in a practical yet pleasing fashion. Her breasts were small, tipped with pale nipples, and a neat clump of silky hair showed between her legs. I half expected her to bolt, or at least cover herself with her arms, but she did neither: she simply stood her ground and looked me up and down. Then, quite unexpectedly, she ran forward and flung herself against my chest, hugging me tightly. As you might imagine I was considerably surprised at this, even alarmed.

  'Help me, sir, I beg!' she whispered. 'There are men at the house who would beat me and do lewd things to me!'

  I had no idea how to respond to this startling request. She was clearly a maid who'd somehow escaped the spanking party, though why she should be masked eluded me; I could only think it was part of a game Lord Newburn had devised for the amusement of his guests.

  Holding her, I discovered she was thoroughly chilled, for though it was near midsummer the afternoon breeze was decidedly cool. I took off my cloak and put it around her shoulders, rubbing her back and shoulders through the thick wool to warm her.

  'Will you rescue me, kind sir?' she begged plaintively. 'They're cruel, wicked men, and the master of the house is the worst of all. Should I fall into his clutches he'll thrash me without mercy for trying to escape.'

  I was facing a considerable dilemma at this point, for the idea of stealing away one of Lord Newburn's maids was quite preposterous; though by now I was beginning to doubt she was a maid, as she was too well-spoken. A governess to his children seemed more likely, though she was surely rather young for such a position. Whatever the truth of it the problem remained; I couldn't steal her away, but neither could I simply abandon her.

  'What is it you wish me to do?' I asked.

  'Take me to the summerhouse, sir,' she said. 'Perhaps I can hide there.'

  Lacking any better plan I did as she asked, though it was she who led the way. I tethered my mare in the trees where she wouldn't be seen, after which the girl and I went inside. We sat together on a bench, my young fugitive snuggled up beside me. I slid my hands inside the cloak and rubbed her for comfort and warmth, though all too soon other notions entered my head.

  I wasn't the only one having ideas, it seemed, for she turned her face up to me. 'Will you kiss me, sir?' she asked softly.

  'I will if you'll take off your mask,' I said.

  'Kiss me first.'

  And so I did, and she responded in kind - and a more tender, loving kiss I'd never received in all my life. I found myself fondling her firm breasts without conscious thought, but when my hand slid lower she pressed her thighs together.

  'Do you wish to do lewd things to me too, sir?' There was no anger or resentment in her voice, just a hint of melancholy, perhaps.

  It was tempting to say no, to reassure her, and then have my way with her by slow degree, but I found I couldn't stoop so low. Some quality about her demanded honesty and respect, despite her lowly status.

  'I confess I do,' I said, 'for you are a truly delightful creature, though I don't know your name.'

  There was a moment's hesitation before she spoke. 'Please call me Bella.'

  'And you must call me Jamie.' I had no idea why I said it, for only those close to me used the diminutive. At that moment, however, holding her tightly, it seemed entirely appropriate. 'And now may I remove your mask?'

  'If you wish, Jamie.'

  I untied the ribbon and lifted the red mask away. My first thought was that she was the loveliest woman I had ever set eyes on, with her flawless complexion, sensuous lips and beautiful, astonishingly clear green eyes. My second was that she was a little older than I'd thought - in her mid-twenties, perhaps.

  'But who are—?'

  Before I could finish the question she clamped her mouth to mine. Our first kiss had been tender; now she was all fire, her lips bruising mine and her tongue thrusting into my mouth. She started to undress me, tearing at the buttons on my coat and shirt while showering me with kisses all the while. Soon I was assisting her efforts, casting off garments left and right, so that in no time at all we were rolling naked on the summerhouse floor in a fever of anticipation.

  'Fuck me, Jamie!' she gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist. 'Fuck me!'

  Such words from those sweet lips sounded shocking indeed, but I had no time to ponder it, overwhelmed by need as I was. She let out an ardent cry and threw her arms about my neck as I entered her. I thrust deep, half fearful of hurting her, half wanting to hear her scream, while she clung to me panting. I lasted a few minutes only, as fierce and urgent as our coupling was, so that all too soon I was grunting as I drove into her to spend my seed. We lay gasping for many long seconds, then I rolled over onto my back, pulling her on to
p of me so we lay face to face.

  I drew my cloak over us and we rested there, Bella sighing contentedly as I stroked her neck and back, murmuring endearments to her all the while. When eventually I grew stiff again she took hold of my cock and lifted her hips, as though to take me in that fashion. I was having none of it, however. The first time I'd left her far behind in my selfish haste, but that wouldn't happen again. I rolled her gently onto her back, kissing her lips, throat, breasts and belly as my lips tracked down that firm, slender torso. I parted her thighs and nuzzled my face in her groin, my tongue seeking her slit. She moaned and grasped my hair, pulling me closer still. I tongued her slowly, to prolong her pleasure and mine.

  Though self-praise is no recommendation, I can say that I was then, and indeed still am, highly skilled at cunnilingus. It would be strange if I weren't, for I'd been practising on my grandfather's maids since I was old enough for them to take me seriously. And every trick I'd learned over the years, every technique I knew for pleasing a woman, I used there in the summerhouse with Bella. She sobbed and stiffened beneath me as I sucked her clitoris, her back arching to lift her buttocks clear of the floor. I continued tonguing her languidly until she became still. After a while I turned onto my back and drew her on top of me once more, a position that seemed both natural and thoroughly agreeable. With my cloak over us for warmth, I felt content to lie there forever.

  As we rested quietly in the aftermath, her head on my chest, I again rubbed her back for comfort. Inevitably my hand slid down to her firm round buttocks, which I patted absently. She tensed, and I realised I'd unwittingly reminded her of what awaited her at the house.

  'Will it hurt very much, Jamie,' she murmured, 'when they spank me?'

  I was about to say no, to ease her fears, but caught myself in time. That might be the unkindest trick of all, not knowing these men or what they planned to do to her. Some spankers - my friend Humphrey, for instance - were almost gentle with their slaves, whilst others could be brutal indeed. I was somewhere in the middle, perhaps, moderate at times, particularly where the spanking was for sport, harsher on occasion. With a true punishment beating it very much depended on the nature of the offence, but even here I set myself a strict limit. I would never beat any woman so severely as to leave permanent scars, no matter how serious her crime.

  I knew a good few spankers who had no such qualms, however, and would thrash a female with every ounce of their strength. If Lord Newburn or his guests fell into that category, Bella was in for a dreadful time indeed. Somehow I needed to prepare her for the worst, without scaring the poor girl to death.

  'Possibly it may, Bella,' I said. 'Spankings vary greatly in that regard; some merely tingle, whilst others can be fierce indeed. Whatever comes, my dear, you must try to bear it bravely.'

  She shivered. 'When I learned my master was planning this party I tried spanking myself, to see what it felt like. I thought if I grew accustomed to it I wouldn't be so afraid. I couldn't do it properly, though.'

  As if to demonstrate she reached back to tug the cloak aside, then proceeded to smack her bottom. She was quite right, of course; she could bring little force to bear, twisted awkwardly as she was. I couldn't help smiling at her frown of concentration as she made a valiant effort nevertheless.

  'Here,' I said, 'allow me.'

  My swing was a little restricted, but I managed to smack her firmly enough even so. I'd never before spanked a woman in this position, naked and belly to belly as we were. I realised I'd been missing out on a veritable treat, for it felt utterly delightful when Bella started to wriggle under the stinging blows. It was comforting to know that the noble art, even after a decade and more, still had the capacity to surprise me.

  Finally I called a halt, interested to learn how she'd found her first spanking.

  'Actually,' she said brightly, 'it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. I'm sure I can cope with that, Jamie, even if they all decide to spank me one after the other.'

  'Well,' I said, sorry to have to shatter her illusions, 'you would normally be over a master's knee for a spanking with the hand. That would obviously hurt more, as he could put more force behind it.'

  'Oh,' she said, the smile faltering. 'How much worse would it be?'

  'Easier to show you than to explain,' I said.

  We moved back to the bench, where I sat down and drew her across my lap. Her buttocks were only slightly pinked at that point, but they rapidly took on a rosy hue when I began slapping them in earnest. I didn't stint, for I wanted her to understand that her treatment up to now had been relatively mild. She was soon gasping and squirming under the relentless assault, which I sustained for several minutes. Afterwards she rose and rubbed her bottom, looking rather subdued.

  'You were right, Jamie,' she said ruefully. 'It did hurt more. Is that the worst I can expect?'

  'Not quite,' I said, 'for I wasn't hitting with my utmost strength. Or I might keep the strength the same, but spank you for longer. But that's just my hand, of course. Most spankers prefer to use an implement of some sort, such as a cane or a paddle. They're noticeably worse than a man's hand, I'm sorry to say.'

  She nodded thoughtfully, biting her lower lip. 'Gerty said something about implements, but I wasn't listening properly.'

  'Who's Gerty?'

  'The kitchen maid. She said the master has a tawse, whatever that is.'

  'It's a short strap,' I said. 'I can show you, if you like. Wait here.'

  I left the summerhouse, naked as I was, and went to where my mare was tethered in the trees. My travelling case was fastened to the saddlebags, for as my grandfather had drummed into me, no gentleman spanker would dream of journeying without one. It was the height of bad manners to travel to a stranger's home and immediately demand of one's host that he provide the necessary implements.

  I took the case back to Bella and showed her the contents - one medium cane, one medium tawse and a narrow-bladed wooden paddle of medium weight. She regarded them with round, anxious eyes, reaching out tentatively to touch the paddle's varnished surface, then drawing her hand back quickly as if the thing were red hot.

  'So these hurt more?' she said.

  'They do indeed. Shall we try one, to give you an idea? Just briefly, of course.' I picked up the paddle, since it was that which had caught her eye.

  'Shall I lie over your knee, like before?' she asked, her voice wavering a little.

  'No,' I said, 'that's usually reserved for hand spankings. When using an implement most masters would normally specify a standing position, either upright or bending over. Kneeling and lying face down are other possibilities, though rather less popular. We'll try one of the so-called "standard" positions - the Half-Squat.'

  I sat on the bench and had her stand close to me, facing to my left with her hands clasped behind her head. At my instruction she opened her knees and squatted down a little, though not too far.

  'You must hold the position until I give you permission to rise,' I said. 'That's most important, Bella, no matter who's spanking you, for if you move you'll almost certainly be given extra strokes. Neither can you rub your bottom until I say so, even if it's stinging fiercely. You understand?'

  'Yes, Jamie,' she whispered.

  'Very well,' I said, grasping the paddle firmly. 'Let's begin.'

  I started to slap her buttocks, alternating left and right, light strokes she barely registered. I gave her a dozen or so, then stepped up to medium strength without a pause. A dozen of these, then I switched to firm. She was certainly feeling them now, uttering a breathless little gasp at each stroke, accompanied by a jerk of the hips.

  Without pausing in my endeavours I reached to her groin with my left hand and began to caress her there. Many new slaves find this a useful distraction, helping them to bear the unaccustomed pain. I fingered her slit diligently, therefore, continuing to spank her all the while.

  When I focussed my attentions on her clitoris her gasps became more heartfelt and her hips began to rock in a coital
fashion. She squatted a fraction deeper, as if seeking harder contact with my finger, but I had no thoughts of bringing her to climax. In situations such as these, though they invariably welcome the stimulation, few women can reach orgasm as the pain is simply too intrusive.

  We carried on in this fashion for some considerable time, her bottom growing ever more red. Watching her as she squatted there, gasping in pain and pleasure, her slender body jerking under the dual assault, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Bella was as close to the 'perfect' spanking slave as one could possibly imagine - beautiful, vulnerable and responsive - and I did wonder briefly whether Lord Newburn might consider selling her to me. Such notions would have to wait until that gentleman and I were far better acquainted, however.

  The young woman's bottom was by now a deep red. Though I didn't doubt this treatment was psychologically beneficial to her, preparing her mentally for whatever may lie ahead, I wasn't blind to the fact that I was also doing an excellent job of 'tenderising' her buttocks. Whatever beatings Lord Newburn and his guests intended for her she'd feel them twice as keenly, given this thorough preparation.

  I desisted finally, feeling just a little guilty. I'd continued longer than was needful, concerned more with my own enjoyment than with what was in the girl's best interests. As I lowered the paddle and took my hand from her groin she gave a forlorn little cry - at the loss of the latter, no doubt - and turned to me in dismay. Being new to all this she didn't understand the consequences of what I'd done, of course, which made me feel more guilty still.

  'Very good, Bella,' I said. 'You may now rub.'

  Without another word I packed away the implements, then picked up my scattered clothes and began to put them on. Bella rubbed her buttocks absently as she watched me dress, her lovely eyes thoughtful. When I was once again decently attired I took the travelling case back to my horse. As I was strapping it in place I remembered the jar of Bosworth's Ointment in the saddlebag. I'd debated whether to bring it along, not knowing whether my host condoned the use of such medication, but finally I'd slipped it in with my spare clothing, just in case. I retrieved it now, thinking it would help undo some at least of the damage I'd done.