Faith found these pictures exerted a horrid fascination, but she knew she had no time to peruse the scenes today. How long would Rose’s plump bottom distract him? she wondered as she quickly unbuttoned her dress. The answer came almost at once as the door flew open.
‘Good God,’ he bellowed, ‘how long does it take you to strip, you lazy little slut?’
Faith had finished struggling out of her uniform. She wore no drawers, only a long black satin corset and silk stockings, but the corset was a devil to get off.
‘Leave it!’ he said hoarsely as her fingers began to tug at the beast’s front fastenings. ‘Come here and get down on your knees.’
Faith needed no further bidding. As quickly as she could she scuttled over and sank to her knees before his towering figure. The only sounds in the room for a long moment were the ticking of the mantel clock and the creaking of her corset as she got into position.
‘Flies,’ he growled.
Faith knew her fate now as her fluttering fingers unbuttoned the fly of his coarse tweed trousers. The cane swished in his right hand still, cutting through the air impatiently as she completed her task. His left hand caused the blood to surge to her cheeks, however, for in that he held the butter dish.
His erect manhood sprang out of his fly like some long-incarcerated prisoner, suddenly released. The sight of it, as always, filled Faith with almost reverential awe. She bowed her head towards his purplish glans and began to lick.
‘No!’ The slap caught her across the face, knocking Faith sprawling sideways across the carpet with a gasp. ‘Not today, you greedy little slut!’
The Reverend seemed to be having trouble maintaining his self-control, not a phenomenon Faith had often witnessed before.
‘Bend over the end of the bed,’ he ordered.
With a whimper, Faith hurried to obey. Her corset creaked lustily in protest as she struggled against the resilient whalebone stays. Feet wide apart, for this position was not new to her – and the penalty for closing her thighs had been enthusiastically demonstrated time and again – she clutched the satin eiderdown in desperate hands and waited for her bottom to explode with pain.
‘Do you need a few stripes to warm you up, girl?’ The Reverend sounded very strained now.
‘No.’ Her own voice sounded weak with fear. ‘Th-thank you, sir...’ Faith scarcely dared believe she might escape a thrashing at this stage, but his question had sounded genuine enough.
The cane landed on the eiderdown beside her right hand. A startled gurgle escaped from deep in her throat as strong fingers probed. ‘Good God,’ the Reverend’s voice rumbled close to her ear, ‘you little slut. You’re dripping like a tap.’
Faith felt herself blush to the roots of her hair as he continued his brusque appraisal of her state of arousal. He gave a low chuckle that made her want to disappear with shame. Then she felt his fingers withdraw and pat her bottom fondly.
‘Your juices are running down the insides of your legs.’
There was a moment’s pause and then she felt his finger probe her anus.
‘Hold still, you saucy bitch,’ he murmured as he applied the butter. ‘I shall still give you a few licks with the stick if you do not keep that sweet bottom in place.’
Faith could not prevent a moan escaping. She had no wish to earn herself a whipping, but the maddening sensation of his lubricated finger as it explored her anal ring was driving her way beyond distraction. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to stay in position as he teased the sphincter muscle into relaxation. All Faith could do was to bite her bottom lip and grip the eiderdown in white-knuckled hands.
There came another pause. Her corset creaked a little as she failed to keep quite still. The mantel clock continued to tick away ominously. Still, she was sure she could make out something else. A quiet, rhythmic noise that could only be the heart-stopping, toe-curling, clitoris-tickling sound of a man diligently lubricating his erection with best butter.
‘Ooh...!’
‘Quiet!’ he snarled, sounding to her terrified ears more savage dog than man.
Faith moaned despite his order as she felt his glans nuzzle against the ring of tender tissue. She let out another little cry as the nuzzling became a push. Then she groaned as his lubricated cockhead slipped inside. Her whole body squirmed in response.
‘Wriggle all you like, you won’t escape me now, you little slut!’ the Reverend chuckled as he worked himself, inch by inch, into her hole. Faith whimpered as his great cock pushed deeper inside her. She would split, surely. It was too big. She was too tight. A gurgling noise came from deep in her throat as she squirmed helplessly on the relentless fleshy skewer.
Faith turned her head and sought respite from the sensation by biting into her own naked shoulder. Surely it was not this big before?
Suddenly, the strong hands that had gripped her hips reached around and grasped the top of her corset, unhooking the front of the garment with almost contemptuous ease. Faith, whose eyes were screwed tight closed, felt her full breasts spring out of their prison.
‘Ooh, sir...’ she gasped as he took her breasts in his hands, kneading the tender flesh with a brusqueness that was very close to painful. She squealed as he thrust himself ever deeper, completely captive in her master’s iron grip. A growling sound escaped him as he reamed her. Faith had never heard anything quite like it. The Reverend Dawes took her engorged nipples between finger and thumb and twisted until she shrieked in mindless response.
Faith had been buggered before, over this very bedstead, but this time there was something new; a more furious intensity. The Reverend thrust deep inside her, then eased his cock at least halfway out. Then Faith squealed like a piglet as he pistoned in again. Dawes fucked her ruthlessly. She shrieked as he buried his teeth in the back of her neck.
‘Please,’ she moaned, completely lost in a red mist of sensation, ‘I must...’
Normally Faith would never have dared ask it, let alone beg, but the buggering was taking her to a place somewhere beyond fear and pain. Amazingly, the Reverend responded, releasing her left breast and dropping his hand, searching out the necessary place.
‘Oh, oh, yes... don’t stop,’ she moaned as he withdrew and then thrust deep inside once again. His hand had found its target, closing over her crotch, and her pelvis did its best to move in response. Each brutal thrust of his cock now forced her forward, grinding her clitoris against the heel of his hand. It did not take many strokes before her body simply exploded with pleasure.
‘Oh! Ah! Yes, yes, yes, yes!’ Faith howled as ecstasy engulfed her, barely aware of what she was saying or doing. Perhaps it was her abandoned bucking that triggered her ravisher’s response, or the convulsive tightening of her anal ring around his cock as she squirmed in her climax. Whatever the catalyst, she felt him grind his manhood even harder into her rear and the air was filled with the blasphemous oaths that frequently preceded the Reverend’s thunderous ejaculations. Swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure though she was, Faith could have sworn she felt something hot and wet and impossibly copious hose deep in her entrails.
Her master recovered himself first, although his erection was slow to subside and he still filled her.
‘Come on,’ he chuckled, releasing a throbbing nipple to slap her cheek gently.
Awareness of her situation seeped into Faith’s mind all to quickly. She was still bent over the end of the bedstead, the Reverend Dawes’ manhood still wedged deep inside her. Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the cane, lying on the coverlet. She pushed away the memory of abandoned behaviour in her crisis.
Strong hands gripped her corseted waist and she was lifted, still impaled, and carried around to the bed. Only then did he pull her up and off him, with an audible plop. Faith found herself held out, stockinged feet some inches from the floor, before he tossed her easily on to the bed.
‘Grip the bars behind you, girl, and spread them.’
Faith did not need telling twice. On her back, she reached behind to grip the bars at the head of the brass bedstead, making sure her legs were spread wide before she dared turn to her master.
He was naked now, washing his detumescent cock with water from a bowl. Faith watched her master’s lean body with a sort of anxious admiration. As he towelled his manhood dry it began to swell and stiffen again. He turned to her and his cock twitched in his hand as he perused her. Faith felt her whole body quiver under his gaze. She had to grip the bars tight to fight the urge to cover her exposed cunny.
‘Right, you saucy little baggage,’ he growled, ‘ready to go again?’
‘Would you like some of this on yon weals, lass?’ Kirsty proffered the cold cream with a cheery smile.
Amelia paused. The sense of relief she had felt in loosening the dreadful drawers was passing, and it occurred to her that the Scottish girl might speak to her more respectfully, but the cold cream did look inviting, and her bottom still throbbed so...
‘Very well,’ she said with rather ill grace, after a moment’s hesitation, resolving that she would not put herself over Kirsty’s lap. Kirsty did not seem put out, however, but was apparently content to smooth the soothing ointment over Amelia’s welts as she stood in front of her.
‘God, Bella, the man is an absolute brute. These weals are raised like burns...’
‘Ow, not so rough, Charlotte, they still sting like the devil.’
Charlotte smoothed cold cream on her friend’s martyred rump while Kirsty performed the same office for Amelia. Gretchen fiddled with her drawer laces whilst Linnet watched the others with wide eyes. Having been granted permission to unlace for ‘quiet time’ after lunch, all the girls were now naked except for their silk stockings. Only Gretchen still struggled to unfasten her drawers.
‘Ach, it is a knot I cannot undo...’ she muttered as she struggled fruitlessly with the lacing. Amelia could not help but watch her with amusement. Despite her cruelly tight stays and drawers, Gretchen had eaten greedily at luncheon. Now, as she battled to remove her constrictive underclothes, her face had gone quite puce. At that moment there was a loud ripping sound and every pair of eyes in the dormitory turned her way.
‘Oh no, what is...?’ Gretchen craned around to try to see the source of the sound.
‘That’s torn it!’ Bella chortled.
‘I wonder what the punishment is for that?’ Amelia said slyly.
The woman’s drawers had split from top to bottom along the seam that ran between her bottom cheeks. Instantly several inches of pink flesh appeared in the gap. Gretchen felt the damage mournfully.
‘You think he will punish me?’ she asked fearfully.
‘Course he will, you fat trollop!’ Bella chortled.
‘But yours split, too...’ Gretchen looked at the other girl, tears brimming in her pale blue eyes.
‘Different,’ said Bella, getting up off Charlotte’s lap and patting her own bottom ruefully. ‘The Reverend split them with the cane. Don’t you remember? He said it was no disgrace to have one’s drawers split by the rod, but if we were to rip them through poor deportment we should expect no mercy.’
Gretchen had finally got her lacing loosened and pulled her corset off. Her plump body was pink and softly inviting, and the mournful expression in her eyes almost melted Amelia’s heart.
‘No mercy,’ she repeated distantly.
‘There is no mercy for any of us from that terrible man,’ Charlotte said bitterly as she sat on her little bed.
‘No, the Reverend Dawes is not known for it,’ Amelia said, unable to quite rid her mind’s eye of that pitiless grey gaze.
‘He is a real tartar, that’s for sure,’ Bella said cheerily. There was something hot in her eyes, however, that Amelia found she did not like at all.
‘Away, he’s no’ that bad,’ Kirsty said calmly as she got into her own bed.
Five pairs of eyes looked at her in complete astonishment.
‘Not that bad?’ Charlotte spluttered, utterly incredulous.
‘I do not understand,’ Gretchen gasped, amazed.
‘You must be joking, surely?’ Amelia said, blinking at the figure in the bed.
‘What constitutes bad in your book, then?’ asked Bella with a laugh, but she was not destined to get an answer.
Kirsty’s bed was at the far end of the dormitory and all the other girls were staring at her, and away from the door. Something in the girl’s green eyes sent a sudden prickle of cold fear down Amelia’s spine.
‘Quiet time,’ the Reverend Dawes said in a calm but displeased tone, ‘is a time for quiet rest, not idle chatter.’
There was a little chorus of shocked gasps as the six young ladies blushed scarlet and did their best to shield their naked charms from the intruder’s gaze. The Reverend, however, seemed quite untroubled by what seemed to Amelia the scandalous impropriety of the situation.
‘As you all seem to have so much energy to spare we must put it to constructive use. Faith will issue you each with sporting kit. I think it is time you girls were introduced to the wholesome pleasure of a bracing, cross-country run.’
Chapter Three
Amelia stared at the new outfit with utter horror, but it was Charlotte who voiced the girls’ common concern.
‘Really, this is too much. He cannot intend for us to go out in public in these,’ she spluttered, her pretty face quite crimson.
Charlotte had already pulled on the white shorts and short woollen singlet Faith had brought up to the dormitory at the Reverend’s departure. The clinging jersey of the singlet did little to disguise the shape of her firm young breasts; indeed, Amelia could make out the girl’s jutting little nipples perfectly clearly. The shorts were legless and seemed to be skin-tight. Knee socks and white plimsolls completed the strip.
‘Come on, Charlotte, we had better make the best of it.’ Bella’s statuesque body looked particularly splendid in the gym kit, her full breasts straining perilously at her singlet whilst her long legs and powerful thighs were shown off by the shorts. With a sigh, Amelia pulled up her own shorts. After the constriction of the flogging drawers they felt quite comfortable, though there was no denying the fact that they were almost obscenely tight.
Pulling the vest on hurriedly, Amelia glanced around. Charlotte was still blushing furiously and looking utterly aghast. Kirsty, as usual, seemed quite unworried by the outfit, which hugged her generous curves most flatteringly.
It was Gretchen who looked most absurd in the get-up. She blushed a deeper shade of beetroot even than Charlotte, aware that her body simply was not made for such athletic attire. Her breasts seemed about to burst out of the flimsy constriction of the singlet, whilst her shorts were barely able to contain her behind. Gretchen’s more mature features and matronly figure combined to make the girlish little gym outfit seem quite absurd.
‘I really would not protest, if I were you,’ Faith said softly in response to Charlotte’s shrill complaints, though she also looked meaningfully at each of the other girls in turn.
Another man might have looked ridiculous in those baggy khaki shorts, Amelia thought as she stood in the line of girls outside the rectory. The Reverend Dawes in shorts and singlet, however, appeared even more formidable than he did in dog collar and tweed jacket. Partly it was the fact that more of his body was revealed. His biceps might not have been massive, but there was a well-honed power about the man’s lean musculature that Amelia found strangely compelling in an ominous way.
Then there was his carriage. As always he stood erect, shoulders back, stance well balanced. The gym kit made him look more like an army drill instructor than a prelate. Certainly Amelia felt every bit the hapless conscript, quivering before his baleful gaze.
The final element making him seem so formidable was the thing he sw
ung casually in his right hand as he glared at the glum row of blushing trainees.
‘After luncheon, every day, we shall have a spot of exercise. Whilst the weather is fine, this will be a nice long run. Make no mistake, girls,’ he slapped the short riding crop in his hand for emphasis, ‘I mean to mould your bodies, as well as your minds.’
He produced a stopwatch from one of the pockets of his shorts. ‘The course will take us into and around the grounds of Hope Hall. The Marquis and Marchioness have graciously given me their permission for us to use the park. I am sure Amelia in particular will appreciate their generosity.’
Amelia stared at the ground and clenched her fists.
‘It takes me just under half an hour to complete the run,’ the Reverend continued. ‘I shall allow one hour today, as some of you,’ he gave Gretchen a meaningful stare, ‘are flabby and unfit. Take more than one hour and, make no mistake, it will be a good hard slippering on your return.’
A slight sound behind her caused Amelia to turn. Faith and Rose, both attired in gym kit, came out of the rectory. Amelia remembered seeing Rose hauling the Reverend’s pony-cart in the Silver Cup. As a loser the girl had been flogged unmercifully. A few fading welts could yet be seen on her pale upper thighs, but otherwise she seemed to have recovered.
‘Rose will lead off as she knows the course. Do not go too fast, girl; the others will need to keep you in sight. Faith will bring up the rear and keep an eye out for stragglers.’
The Reverend looked at the quailing row of girls, stopwatch in one hand and riding crop in the other, and it seemed to Amelia that he almost smiled. ‘All right, girls,’ he said quietly, ‘go!’
Rectory of Correction Page 5