The Mistress of Sternwood Grange

by Arabella Knight

  Politics – where half of your acquaintances were instant comrades but all who knew you were potential enemies. Biggies flew in a blue sky, his enemies clear to see in their brightly painted planes. The sleeping politician, she knew, patrolled a very different battle zone where everything was murky and the only colour was grey.

  Smoothing down her crisp, striped uniform, Mandy felt pleased with her work. Here at Sternwood Grange, the movers and shakers in society, the people who really mattered, sought their solace. And it was granted to them: through leather, silk and supple bamboo cane. Remembering her late aunt with renewed admiration, Mandy turned her gaze down upon the sleeping face. She gently caressed a stray lock of his dark, curled hair. He was a perfect example of Sternwood Grange at its best. Destined to command, he came here to obey: shrugging off for a time the relentless pressures that besieged him.

  How much? The question flickered across her brain. How much, she wondered, had he paid? Sophie had let it slip that all the residents paid in cash, in advance. Rising softly, Mandy tiptoed around the bed and across the nursery floor. In the adjoining dressing room, furnished in a more adult fashion, she found the wardrobe – and, in it, his dark-blue suit. Fishing out his wallet was the work of a moment. The House of Commons pass, club membership cards to Whites and the Athenaeum, several gold credit cards and his Coutts chequebook were quickly examined. The chequebook. She thumbed through the stubs, coming to the most recent. Good. The dates corresponded with his sojourn at Sternwood Grange. A four-figure sum had been drawn out in cash. Now she knew.

  Replacing everything exactly as she found it, Mandy paused to add a mischievous touch. Skipping silently back into the nursery, she plucked up the abandoned nylon stocking and returned to the dressing room. It was still sticky with his spurt of hot release. Grinning at the thought that he might accidentally pull it out during a visit to the Whip’s office, she stuffed the memento amori into his inside pocket.

  A soft sound brought her back into the nursery. Sonia had entered, bearing a large lunch tray.

  ‘Vegetable soup and rhubarb crumble,’ she whispered, pulling a gruesome face. ‘Nursery food for baby over there.’

  Mandy took the tray and set it down carefully.

  ‘Asleep?’ Sonia asked, nodding across at the bed.

  Mandy smiled. ‘Busy morning with Nanny.’

  ‘Ooh,’ the minx gurgled, bending down to inspect the sleeping submissive. ‘Don’t I know him? Isn’t he an MP?’

  ‘Yep, only just, though. He’s got a very small majority.’

  ‘Not from where I’m standing, it isn’t.’

  They collapsed in smothered giggles. Mandy joined the pert little maid and hugged her, then spanked her bottom. Returning to the lunch tray, she started to pepper and salt the vegetable soup. Looking up, she saw Sonia playing gently with the flaccid penis.

  ‘Put that down,’ she hissed.

  ‘Only looking,’ Sonia said, pouting, returning the penis to its resting place between the darkly haired thighs. ‘Bit touchy, this morning, aren’t you?’

  ‘I can’t –’ Mandy began.

  ‘Mind you, everyone is this morning. It’s this thunder brewing up. Makes people edgy.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Or because the mistress is coming tomorrow. Another flying visit –’

  ‘Celia Flaxstone is coming?’ Mandy snapped.

  ‘How do you know her name?’ replied Sonia in amazement. ‘Besides, Erica and Partridge have had a terrific row down in the kitchens and then Partridge went off in tears and then Erica punished all the maids without exception. Look.’

  Pulling up the velvet skirt of her maid’s uniform, Sonia exhibited the damage done to her naked cheeks by the cruel wooden spoon.

  Mandy approached, knelt and kissed the sore, red bottom better. Although the hot bottom was delicious, her mind was on other things. So, she thought, the mistress of Sternwood Grange is due tomorrow. Why? Had Mandy’s cover been blown? Preoccupied by this and equally disturbing possibilities, Mandy’s tongue and lips neglected the eager cheeks.

  ‘It hurt,’ Sonia murmured. ‘Kiss me better.’

  Mandy smiled and, setting aside the rapid flood of speculations whirling in her brain, buried her face into the waiting cheeks. Soon her tongue was busy. Sonia inched up on tiptoe, thrusting her punished buttocks back into Mandy’s face. Lapping gently at first, then rasping the reddened cheeks more fiercely, Mandy tongued the ravished flesh.

  ‘Mmm,’ purred the maid happily, wriggling free at length. ‘I’ve got to get back. It’s all upside down today. I’m only a maid and yet Erica’s letting me serve lunches upstairs. Catch you later,’ she whispered. At the door, she paused and turned.

  Mandy raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘Tell sleeping beauty he gets my vote anytime.’

  Mandy stamped her brogue silently; Sonia fled, giggling.

  Trapped in the cage of polished pinewood that formed the struts and tray of the highchair, the naked man strained back from the spoon at his mouth.

  ‘Open wide,’ Mandy snarled.

  He shook his head vehemently, refusing the soup.

  ‘Very well. If you won’t eat up, Nanny will take her belt to your bare bottom.’

  He parted his lips and meekly swallowed the spoonful of soup.

  ‘Nice pudding if you eat it all up. Nasty, sore bottom if you don’t.’

  The soup was finished in two minutes. Mandy brought the bowl of golden crumble before him. He eyed it greedily. The silver spoon winked above the delicious crust of caramelised brown sugar. Thick yellow custard anointed the fragrant pudding. Mandy plied the spoon deftly, heaping up a delicious mouthful. He strained forward, eager for the delicious crumble. At the last possible moment, Mandy withdrew the spoon.

  ‘No. You have been a bad boy. No nice pudding for you.’ She placed the laden spoon down in the sticky custard.

  One of the exquisite refinements of the adapted highchair was the feature which Mandy had put to full use: it pinned the occupant’s arms straight down, imprisoning them completely. In his wooden cage of restricting bondage, the naked man rocked and writhed.

  ‘Stop that at once,’ she warned, quelling his tantrum with a stern gaze.

  ‘Sorry, Nanny,’ he wheedled. ‘May I have some –’

  ‘Nanny says no. No pudding for naughty boys.’

  He hung his head down.

  ‘Still hungry?’

  ‘Yes, Nanny,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Nanny will see to that, never fear. Goodness, isn’t it hot?’

  At the window, the pewter sky seethed, sulphurous with the impending storm. Mandy removed the wooden tray, but kept her charge penned in his pinewood bondage.

  ‘So hot,’ she said gently, ‘I think I’ll just unbutton this tight uniform. Would you like Nanny to unbutton her tight, crisp uniform?’

  He looked up excitedly, the sulky mouth that mourned the crumble now smiling. He nodded eagerly.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered hoarsely.

  She peeled down her bodice and exposed her brassiere-cupped bosom. The wooden chair rocked. She prised out her left breast, thumbing the nipple slowly. The highchair rocked violently.

  ‘Nanny most certainly won’t have her little chap getting down from his highchair still hungry, will she? No, of course not. Nanny will feed him herself.’

  The soft breast, bunched up by the cup underneath, was swollen and ripe. The heavy mound of creamy flesh all but buried his nose as his lips worked busily at the hard pink nipple.

  ‘Suck slowly,’ she commanded, her slit quite wet from arousal as his hot mouth devoured her breast. ‘Ouch.’

  He had inadvertently nipped her nipple in his excitement.

  ‘Sorry, Nanny,’ he mumbled, the words of contrition muffled as his lips pressed into her warm softness.

  ‘Nanny accepts your apology. Accidents will happen. Nanny will just have to train you more carefully, that’s all.’

  Cuppi
ng and controlling her breast, she guided the erect nipple along his parted lips. Using the peaked stub of sensitive flesh like a lipstick, she traced the outline of both lips.

  ‘Please, Nanny, oh please…’ he moaned.

  ‘Be still and stay silent. Nanny will attend to you in her own good time.’

  Dominating her captive nude, Mandy used her breast with wicked subtlety to humiliate and delight him in turn. Her stray fingertips casually brushed his penis, checking his mounting arousal. The shaft grew engorged, throbbing heavily as it hardened. Suddenly the highchair rattled and jerked – she sensed his imminent orgasm. Dropping down on her knees, she exposed her other breast, cupping it against the other so that her bunched bosoms bobbed a mere two inches in front of the twitching erection.

  ‘Yes,’ he hissed urgently.

  ‘Silence. Nanny is in strict control.’

  She thrust her breasts closer, then closer still, until both nipples grazed his shaft. Bending closer, Mandy captured and imprisoned the shaft between her cushioning breasts and squeezed, working her warm pillows of satin rhythmically until, groaning and writhing in his bondage, he came.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Mandy tut-tutted in her most Nannylike tone of dismay. ‘Just look at what you’ve done. You’ve made Nanny’s breasts all wet and sticky, naughty boy.’

  She examined and fingered slowly his splashes of hot delight which had spattered her rounded breasts. Pearls of semen gathered at, then slowly dripped from, both her erect nipples.

  Outside, lightning flickered down from the blackberry clouds, etching their solid forms with silver. Seconds later, a peal of thunder ripped the sultry silence apart.

  ‘Storm’s breaking at last,’ Mandy sighed. ‘Are you frightened of the thunder, little man?’

  He shook his head, contemptuous of the suggestion.

  ‘Don’t be insolent or Nanny will take the hairbrush to your bottom. Now answer me properly. Are you frightened of thunder?’

  Before he could reply, the room, now in gathering darkness, was lit up by a terrific flash of bluish-gold lightning. The crackling roar followed almost immediately.

  ‘Not scared.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Boasting is a very wicked offence. It is always punished most severely in every well-disciplined nursery,’ Mandy cautioned, her voice crackling with more tension than the static in the room. ‘Nanny does not like a coward, of course, but she will not tolerate rude and boastful little boys. Get down from your chair and go over to your bed at once.’

  His eyes flashed sullenly as he clambered out of the wooden highchair. Mandy slapped his bare bottom twice, harshly, and ordered him not to dawdle. He turned, scowling, and rubbed his sore bottom.

  ‘Well?’ Mandy challenged.

  ‘Bully,’ he dared to whisper.

  ‘How dare you,’ she said softly. ‘How dare you question Nanny’s absolute authority over you. Get down on your knees this instant,’ she commanded, in a voice louder than the rumbling elements overhead. ‘Down on the carpet. Nanny promised you the hairbrush and the hairbrush you shall have.’

  ‘No, Nanny, no. Please, I’m sorry –’

  ‘Not so brave and boastful now, are we? Now that we are about to have our bare bottom hairbrushed, hmm?’ Mandy taunted, sweeping up the hairbrush from the dressing table and returning to straddle the snivelling, crouching man. ‘Bottom up,’ she barked. ‘Come along, get your bottom up, young man. Nanny’s going to beat you.’

  She knelt, her nylon-stockinged knees brushing against his naked thighs. Mandy lowered the cherry-wood hairbrush – bristle side up – across the expectant cheeks. The polished wood kissed the surface of the buttocks; Mandy saw them spasm.

  The growling in the sky was almost continuous now. The heat became almost unbearable. Mandy stood up, leaving the inverted hairbrush balanced across the crown of the buttocks, and stripped off her Nanny’s uniform dress. Now scantily clad in her brassiere, panties, suspender belt and shining nylon stockings – she had kicked off the brogues – she resumed her kneeling position. Picking up the hairbrush, after briefly but dominantly flattening the upturned cheeks with its polished wood, she placed her left hand down across the nape of his neck. Her wet slit pulsed as she felt his tamed nakedness squirm. In silence, she gazed supremely at the bottom she was about to set ablaze. Mandy’s tummy fluttered, so delicious was her mounting expectation: she relished the knowledge of his thick shaft burning into the carpet, of the suppleness of her wrist for superb spanking action, of the sharp sound of polished wood punishing naked cheeks – this knowledge seared her mind, making her brain as hot as her slit.

  She took a deep breath to calm her agitation. ‘Nanny has a question for you,’ she said in a controlled voice. ‘Will this storm be a big one? Or is it going to fizzle out?’

  ‘Don’t care,’ came the surly response – most of it lost in the carpet.

  The hairbrush cracked down. ‘Don’t care was made to care,’ Mandy whispered softly, raising the brush back up to shoulder height.

  ‘Sorry, Nanny,’ the naked man mumbled. ‘It will not last. It will fizzle out.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right, my little man. Why does Nanny say that? Because Nanny is going to use the hairbrush across your bare bottom every time the lightning flashes –’

  Even as she spoke, the walls of the room around them seemed to lurch and dance as a blue and white veined fork bolted down outside the window. The blinding flash was followed by a huge, rolling crackle up above. The hairbrush swept down, swiping the defenceless cheeks pitilessly, leaving them reddened and ablaze. The buttocks bucked and jerked after the Judas kiss of the polished wood.

  Then the storm broke: both in the Suffolk sky above and across his naked bottom beneath the cruel hairbrush. Seven times in rapid succession the dark sky spat out its dazzling fury – and seven times the rounded buttocks burned as the hairbrush cracked down savagely.

  An eerie silence filled the brief lull. There was no flash of lightning – which meant a respite for the scalded cheeks – but a stuttering peal of thunder echoed across the darkened Suffolk landscape. The rain fell heavily now, hammering against the window panes. Both punisher and punished tensed expectantly. Nanny’s fingers tightened at her victim’s neck. A triple flash flickered, bringing the hairbrush down once, then again, and even yet again. The punished man cried out aloud, groaning his sweet suffering. Mandy clamped her thighs tightly together at his curdling moans, then parted them, peeling the damp nylons apart at the top of her thighs where the bronzed sheen soaked up her wet excitement.

  Tossing the hairbrush down, Mandy mounted the naked buttocks, splaying her thighs across the punished cheeks and plumping her silk-sheathed bottom down on to his hot flesh. Straddling his reddened cheeks, she rasped the wet silk of her panties against them, then squeezed her nyloned thighs together, her stocking-tops tormenting his nakedness. Gripping him firmly as she rode him, bareback, she slid deliberately from cheek to cheek, grinding the sticky plum at her pubis into him.

  ‘Oh, yes, Nanny, yes, please…’ he moaned, his voice thick with drunken ecstasy.

  She taloned his shoulders, her knuckles whitened, then drew her legs almost primly together and lay down on top of him, every inch of her body pressed fiercely into his. Perched on top, her breasts crushed into him, she rode him fiercely, pumping the wet silk stretched across her pubic mound into his crimson buttocks.

  Outside the nursery, the storm approached its climax, the furious elements spilling over in a molten crescendo. Inside the nursery, a shrill cry of delight filled the room as, gouging his erection into the carpet, the naked man ridden by the nanny tensed stiffly and shuddered on the brink of orgasm.

  Mandy sensed the paroxysm about to explode. ‘Not until Nanny says so,’ she warned.

  He grunted thickly as her left hand clutched and controlled his thick, dark hair.

  Scissoring her nyloned legs rhythmically, Mandy totally dominated her human mount: legs together, then legs apart, she maddened and bewitched him – a
nd always her wet slit rasped his hot cheeks. He cried out long and loud, his exquisite pleasure almost choking him as she rode harder and faster, burning his shaft into the carpet.

  ‘Now,’ she commanded, rising abruptly and spanking his right buttock with her flattened palm.

  As the spanking hand echoed sharply across the ravished cheek, she dragged her labia across the left buttock.

  Arching up in the powerful splendour of orgasm, he roared his delight and came like a bull, almost tossing her off in his writhing frenzy.

  ‘You’ve been a good boy for Nanny,’ Mandy murmured, now completely naked.

  He rolled over in bed and gazed up adoringly with softened blue eyes. ‘Thank you, Nanny. Thank you very much for a super day.’

  ‘Nanny thinks you deserve a sweet. Give Nanny the Liquorice Allsorts. I know you’ve hidden them under teddy,’ she said with mock severity.

  He groped under the yellow bear, pulled out a box of Bassetts and surrendered them to her outstretched palm.

  She placed the box on the bed, opened it, and then tapped his flaccid penis. ‘Up,’ she demanded.

  It stirred but failed to rise. Gently, she thumbed his balls. Again, it flickered with interest but could not manage to stiffen to a full response.

  ‘Dear me,’ she whispered, ‘my little man has had a busy day. Let’s see if Nanny can help.’

  The blue eyes widened anxiously.

  ‘Tell me,’ Mandy continued coaxingly, ‘how has Nanny punished you today?’

  The blue eyes closed. His litany was brief but breathless. In an urgent whisper, he recounted the spankings, the leather belt, the cane and all the discipline of the day. As she listened attentively, Mandy saw the erection rise. By the time he had excitedly whispered the word ‘hairbrush’, he was sporting a thick, strong shaft.

  Mandy settled herself on the bed, her heavy buttocks dimpling the mattress. Dipping into the box of Allsorts, she selected a brown, white, black and orange cube in a delicate pincer of finger and thumb.