By the time Charlotte had regained her footing and spat out her mouthful of frills, Bella had slipped past her. Now only the trestles stood between her and the top table. There was a gap at either end of the row of trestles, between them and the rows of tables at either end. Amelia watched as Bella glanced at these routes. Excited guests were leaning forward with eager hands, ready to grab any girl who tried that path, and the gap was probably too narrow to escape them. Amelia would not have liked to take the chance, had she been in the contest.
It seemed Bella did not fancy the prospect either, for she looked wildly around. Charlotte had recovered and was running after her. It was obvious that if she tried to clamber under the trestle, Charlotte would catch her up. Instead, Bella ran straight at the barrier. The amazed audience sucked in its collective breath. The trestle was not so high, but with her arms behind her Bella would have been in real trouble if she tripped.
She did not trip. Bella hurdled the trestle and a great cheer went up as she sailed over it with ease. Though she landed well her momentum carried her forward, and it was with some difficulty that she managed to stop herself running straight into the remains of the wedding cake. Amelia watched, transfixed, as this activity made Bella’s breasts bounce most fetchingly. Her eyes were still glued to these globes as Bella bent to let her take her bouquet again.
‘Thank you, girl.’ Amelia could not resist reaching out and giving Bella’s right breast a quick squeeze. With amusement she noted the hot resentment glowing in Bella’s eyes, and resolved to make the prefect feel her spanking.
‘Well done, Bella,’ the Reverend put in. ‘Crawl under the table to us, dear.’
Charlotte took the route under the trestles. Not daring to look directly at the Reverend Dawes, she followed Bella’s bottom under the table. The tablecloth moved by Amelia’s knees, and the anxious faces of the two bridesmaids appeared.
She put him in the bilboes to await his fate. Ancient, pitted, yet still strong bands of iron were padlocked about his ankles and wrists, linked not by chain, but by a heavy rod that forced his skinny legs wide apart. This caused the former minister some embarrassment, and gave his captors cause for great amusement.
‘Why, Lugworm, you filthy little beast,’ Kirsty said with a grin as she tapped his erection sharply with her cane. ‘Whatever is this thing here?’
She smiled as she watched the naked man wince, and rapped it again, even harder. Kirsty was amazed that one so large – for it was the biggest she had ever seen – could be so hard. It was quite furiously erect. Indeed, she would have sworn she could see the veins in the thing throbbing. It seemed quite out of proportion on his scrawny frame. The usual malice seemed to have gone from his beady eyes, to be replaced with shame and fear.
Perhaps, Kirsty thought as she gave his cock a third rap with the cane and watched the man’s face contort with pain, the pleasures of revenge that the dungeon was so well equipped for could be supplemented by other delights in time. After all, there was no hurry. There were so many dread devices to be tried, and her prisoner was not going anywhere for months, or even years.
A crack of twigs on skin and a squeal of pain reminded her she was not alone. Katriona, wearing Marie’s skirt now, had chained the woman with her face to the stone wall, and was lashing her bottom with a birch rod.
‘All right, Katriona.’
‘But Kirsty, this is only my second dozen...’
‘You wouldnae be arguing with me, now?’ Kirsty said in a quiet but menacing purr.
Katriona dropped the arm that held the birch and dropped her gaze. ‘No, ma’am,’ she said, suddenly submissive.
Kirsty smiled. ‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll no’ cheat you of your revenge.’ She stepped forward and squeezed Marie’s bottom, feeling the heat and making the girl moan in response. ‘You will have time to tickle these plump cheeks before I send her where she is going.’
‘Oh, ah, please... Kirsty, I mean ma’am, where am I going?’
‘Well, you don’t seem to be too popular in these parts, Marie. In fact, there seem to be a fair few folk who want to come and have a wee word with you...’
‘Oh, please,’ there was real panic in Marie’s voice, ‘don’t let them have me!’
Kirsty chuckled and gave the well-birched bottom a hearty slap. ‘Don’t worry Marie, I’ll no throw you to the dogs. No, Katriona can have you for a couple of weeks, and then I think a proper public flogging.’
Marie’s back stiffened as she heard her sentence and she began to sob.
‘I was thinking you would want to go away after that.’
‘Aye, oh please, ma’am, please let me.’
‘I have a friend down south who needs a parlour maid. I expect you wouldnae be quibbling about the details of the contract.
‘Oh no, I’ll sign whatever you say...’ Marie babbled.
‘Excuse me!’ a clear voice interrupted.
Kirsty turned. Fiona was still chained against the wall. Her magnificent body was pale in the firelight, but her face seemed to have gone puce with anger.
‘Really, Kirsty. Is it no’ time someone got me out of this? I have a few scores to settle with that pair as well, you know.’
Kirsty strolled up to the naked girl. She smiled apologetically. Reaching out, she pushed Fiona’s red-gold hair out of the way and gave her cheek a pat.
‘Sorry Fiona,’ she said, ‘I got a bit distracted.’
‘Well, will you?’ Fiona flicked her eyes towards her manacled hands.
‘Aye, aye,’ Kirsty said thoughtfully, stepping back to consider Fiona’s powerful body. ‘Tell me, Fiona, did you win the two peaks race again this year?’
‘Of course I did!’ Fiona tossed her head and snorted. ‘You know there is no one from here to Kinloch Sgiursar who can best me. Let me out, Kirsty. I want a piece of Marie’s arse before Katriona skins it!’
Kirsty smiled and reached out to caress Fiona’s breasts. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, it isnae going to happen...’
‘Who bagged that other little wriggler?’ Lord Alex roared.
There was a shout from the side table. Constable Prentice, resplendent in a crimson silk evening gown, raised a satin-gloved hand. Linnet was sitting, blushing furiously and firmly gripped about the waist, on the policewoman’s knee.
‘Right, now we have the traditional spanking of the bridesmaids,’ Lord Alex shouted. ‘You’ll need to get those knickers off them first, mind.’
Amelia needed no more urging. A feeling of almost intoxicating delight flowed through her as she helped Bella to her feet by the upper arm.
‘You have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this, you bossy bitch,’ she murmured as she stroked one of Bella’s exposed breasts. It felt so smooth and firm she almost wished she did not have to attend to other duties.
Bella was a brave girl, but the crowd was clearly daunting her, for she gave a little wail as Amelia slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her frilly knickers. There was a loud burst of applause as she pulled the garment down before helping Bella to step out of her knickers.
‘Turn around,’ she said, sensing Bella’s embarrassment. ‘I’m sure the guests would like to see your bottom.’
Blushing furiously now, Bella reluctantly complied. The Reverend Dawes, taking his cue from his bride, ordered a knickerless Charlotte to turn, too.
The skirt of Bella’s gown was so short it was barely necessary, but Amelia lifted the hem for the guests’ delectation.
‘Hold this,’ she instructed, making Bella take hold of the hem in her pinioned hands. The guests cheered and there was a great deal of hearty laughter.
‘All right, Arabella,’ Amelia said, running her hand up the inside of her captive’s thigh. ‘You can stop showing yourself off. It’s time to put yourself over my knee.’
Bella bit her lower lip and seemed to be blinking away tears. The si
ght made Amelia’s heart thrill and her loins tingle. Reluctantly, Bella lowered herself over Amelia’s lap. At the same time Charlotte put herself over the Reverend’s knee. Amelia looked over to where Prentice held Linnet, and then looked to her uncle to signal that she was ready.
Kirsty watched the fear enter Fiona’s emerald eyes. ‘You see, I heard you betray me...’
‘But he was using the whip... oow!’
Kirsty pinched Fiona’s nipple and gave it a little twist for emphasis. ‘I don’t care what he used, Fiona. I’m laird and you betrayed me. You are going south with Marie.’
She released the girl’s nipple and dropped her hand to grasp and squeeze Fiona’s inner thigh, appraising the firm muscle.
‘See, these legs are wasted round here. I’m going to send you to a place where you will be really made to run.’ She smiled. ‘Of course, it will be a mite different to the Two Peaks race. You’ll have to pull a wee cart – and a vicar!’
‘Before we start,’ Lord Alex bellowed over the hubbub, ‘after the bridesmaids have been spanked we shall have the raffle. Whilst the bridesmaids are getting their desserts there should just be time for the raffle prizes to replenish the guests’ glasses!’
Amelia looked up from the plump bottom on her lap. The Hope Hall maids were dressed in tiny uniforms of black satin, and each one had a disc with a number on a string about her neck. Tottering on vertiginous heels, they began to fill the guests’ glasses with wine, amongst much ribald commentary and a good few slaps and pinches.
‘Very well, begin!’ Lord Alex said, and Amelia started.
Crack! Crack! Crack! She brought her hand down hard, time and again, savouring the way Bella’s resilient bottom flesh bounced under the impact.
Smack! Smack! Smack! The skin reddened rapidly beneath the rain of spanks. Bella kicked her feet a little and Amelia noticed the girl was clenching her fists against the pain until her knuckles whitened.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Amelia’s hand was getting very hot, but she relished the sensation, knowing Bella’s behind was getting a lot hotter.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Now she put her weight into the spanks until Bella let out a little gasp of pain.
Smack! Smack! Smack! She started punishing the backs of the girl’s thighs, slapping first one leg, then the other. Bella was writhing and strange hissing sounds were escaping her mouth. Amelia felt a terrible joy seize her.
There was only one thing wrong. Next to her, the Reverend’s hand was spanking Charlotte’s chubby bottom like a steam-driven punishment machine. Bella might be yelping and squirming a bit, but Charlotte was squealing herself hoarse and wriggling so furiously the bridegroom was having to use all his strength to hold her in position. Amelia was damned if she was going to be out-spanked by her husband. She applied herself to Bella’s bottom with renewed vigour.
Smack! Smack! Smack! She only wished this could go on and on, forever...
Epilogue
It was like a dream, a wonderful, intoxicating dream. Amelia sat on the bed and smoothed cold cream on to her right hand, which was still deliciously warm and throbbing.
‘Richard, what are you doing in there?’
‘Coming, my darling, I won’t be a minute.’
Amelia pouted. The reception games had left her so aroused she could hardly wait to get her new husband’s hard cock back inside her. They were setting off on honeymoon first thing, and she could hear him clumping about in the room next door, fussing with the luggage.
She could not resist it. Getting up, she stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired her reflection. Amelia had removed her wedding dress, but decided the bridal corset was too fine to take off before Richard had really seen it. A masterpiece of ivory satin and the finest lace, it was equipped with eight suspender drops to hold up the sheerest, most delicate pair of pure white stockings.
Amelia had also kept on short white fingerless lace gloves, a choker of pearls and her bridal veil. She practised looking coy through the veil at her reflection. If she was being a little vain, she thought, it was not without reason.
Her hand trailed across her naked sex. Amelia watched the girl in the reflection caress herself, and felt an intoxicating frisson.
Reluctantly she turned away from the mirror and wandered back to the magnificent four-poster bed, draping herself around one of its oak pillars.
‘Richard!’
‘Patience is a virtue, my pet.’
She was facing away from the door and had not heard him enter. ‘But what took you so long?’ she asked.
‘Oh, so many lovely presents. I had to choose what I wanted to whip you with, my precious.’
‘Whip me with...?’ Amelia whispered, turning slowly.
The Reverend Richard Dawes stood in the doorway, wearing a quilted smoking jacket and cravat. In his hand he flexed a long thin riding crop. Amelia’s studies told her it was a polo whip. The feeling in her belly told her it would hurt like hellfire.
‘Of course.’ Her husband smiled. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Amelia, I shan’t flog you in front of the servants or girls I am disciplining. Indeed, I am counting on your enthusiastic help. But when it is just you and me...’ His voice had become a low, ominous growl.
‘But I thought...’ she whispered, unable to take her eyes from the crop.
There was a twinkle in his eye. ‘Well, you thought wrong, Amelia. Come on, you know what you need as well as I do. Now, my girl, bend over!’
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Rectory of Correction Page 24