Pain. That was what she desired to delight in – punishment and pain. The punishment and pain of a submissive male. She anticipated every single moment of her impending dominance. After undoing his blindfold to gaze down into his fear-clouded eyes, she would show him the instrument of chastisement. With neither crop or cane to hand, it would have to be her silver-backed hairbrush, stiffly bristled and glinting with the promise of pain. Then she would slowly bind a pink ribbon around the knout of his erection to stem and stay his spurt of vital juices elicited by the severe strokes of brush on bottom.
Forcing his head down into a cushion, and pinning him firmly as his gagged mouth mutely kissed the velvet, she would palm his upturned buttocks with her gloved hand. The sweep of the controlling hand would grow firmer. She would pause, briefly, to finger-stroke his cleft. As his sac swung gently between his splayed thighs, the time would come for the gloved fingers to close around the handle of the silver-backed hairbrush, grip it tightly and raise it aloft. The chastisement would commence: again, and again, the polished surface would crack down mercilessly across his punished buttocks. Her bound slave would writhe before buckling under the savage onslaught but, helpless in her thrall, he would not be able to escape her vicious tenderness.
After nine strokes, she would quickly invert the bristled face of the brush to tap the ribboned knout of his pulsing cock. The dancing pink ribbon would signal his desperate need for release but, cruel mistress that she was, Charlotte would deny him his desire and revisit his suffering cheeks to blister them harshly with the spanking brush. As his bottom reddened to an almost unbearable shade of pain, she would thrill to the knowledge that her own camiknickers were silencing his howls of anguish.
And when the prinked fingers of her velvet-gloved hand released the ribbon? What then? Charlotte had as yet no direct knowledge of the erect male organ exploding and ejaculating. Forbidden texts in her father’s library had prepared her but she enjoyed only a vague notion of how her punished slave would respond. The pink ribbon, dancing excitedly at the end of the twitching erection. With her dominant gaze quelling his submissive eyes, she would talon his hair and force him to worship her as her gloved hand slowly teased the ribbon loose.
Candle wax. Hot, sticky and quicksilverish. That was what it would be like. A squirt-splash of his seed up on to the swell of her bosom. Perhaps a pitter-pat upon her face. Would she dare to tongue-tip catch a pearl of his liquid devotion? It would be warm and creamy and waxy to the touch. The forbidden books had prepared Charlotte for the wet excitement of a whipped man. But no book yet printed, she acknowledged, could ever prepare her for the muffled scream of agony torn from her punished worshipper’s gagged lips.
With a long, unbroken screech of its whistle, the shuddering train plunged into a long, dark tunnel. Charlotte gasped and sat bolt upright, blinked then twisted her face towards the black carriage window. Her green eyes glimpsed their own cruel reflection in the darkened glass. The eyes of a cat, hungry for her mouse.
The pony-cart trundled up along the mud track slowly. Shivering in the back, exposed to the chill mist, the Godolphin girls suffered the delights of a rough shoot. Heavy tartan rugs around their knees failed to keep them warm. Soon the moorland rose up too steeply for the labouring pony. Dismounting – cursing softly as they slipped and shivered – the sisters trudged the final mile to where the guns had assembled. Higher up, where the mist was thicker and more penetrating, the men stood in a ragged line, muffled in tweeds and frequently sipping from hip flasks.
On the crest of the rolling moor, beaters appeared, advancing slowly down towards the guns. They were shouting and waving sacking and thrashing the heather with long sticks. Rabbits bolted down into the bark and blaze of the guns. The beaters advanced, fanning out to cover the hillside. Small, fat grouse whirred up from the wet cover. Another salvo reverberated across the moor, bringing the dead birds down into the heather.
It was a dreary, dull sport for the girls. They shrank back from the noise of the guns and the reek of acrid cordite. They soon grew numb from both the boredom and the cold. They recoiled delicately from the sight of blood-spattered grouse being bundled and trussed as the game was bagged – and shuddered as rabbits were held aloft to have their necks stretched and their full bladders squeezed dry. The interminable Saturday shoot had not been a sparkling success. The Godolphin sisters bumped back in the cart to Strachayle Castle in the chill of an autumn dusk.
‘Shall I run a bath, ma’am?’ Heather inquired, helping Edwina out of her mud-spattered attire. ‘Or would you prefer to wash and dress your hair before dinner?’
‘I think I had better bathe, please.’
Please. Heather’s eyes widened a fraction at the word. It told her that the young lady she was briskly disrobing was not the customary assured daughter of the aristocracy. Haughty young debs never used ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ to their maid. This girl, Heather mused, unlacing the strings of the corset and allowing the trapped breasts within its strict confines their freedom, was a shy little thing. The maid smiled as she stripped her mistress bare. Her shy, somewhat submissive mistress.
Edwina, her soft buttocks joggling as she trod the carpet, murmured a shy question to the maid.
‘Oh, no, ma’am,’ Heather replied emphatically. ‘You’ll not be seeing any of the gentlemen this weekend. Most strict about that, Lady Alice is, ma’am. Gentlemen dine separately, then retire to their port and cigars. It’s billiards for them, ma’am. The ladies read religious texts or sew their pretty samplers.’
‘Oh.’ Edwina’s sigh could not conceal the deep note of disappointment.
‘Any particular gentleman was there, ma’am?’ Heather prompted.
Edwina replied guardedly that she had hoped for some instruction from Sir Julian Fox, one of the weekend guests.
‘Instruction, ma’am?’ Heather echoed, retreating to the bathroom. She shivered as she remembered the old roué’s consummate skill with the cane during a brief visit earlier in the year.
‘Yes,’ Edwina replied, hurriedly explaining, ‘I need to be schooled. I remain such a novice and he is surely a man of rich experience.’
‘Bath’s ready, ma’am. Look sharp. Mustn’t be late to table.’
The maid assisted her mistress into the bath tub and, unrequested but not refused, used the soap flannel vigorously. Edwina surrendered to the deft, capable hands of the busy maid, submitting her soft, pink nakedness to the soaped yellow sponge. Heather exchanged the sponge for a loofah. Edwina gasped aloud as it raked her shoulders and spine. Heather grew bolder with the loofah, using it at first in the cleavage between the wet, shining breasts and then angling it down to nuzzle the dark patch of pubic hair beneath the curdling soap suds. Edwina, grinding her buttocks into the dimpled rubber bath mat, shyly opened her thighs to receive the rasping length.
The snout of the loofah teased her labial fleshfolds as the eyes of the naked mistress met those of her attendant maid. Heather saw in Edwina the disappointment and the yearning. Reaching down, she caressed the bather’s naked thigh as she insinuated her hand to wrench up the plug.
‘Up,’ she ordered, her tone crisply polite.
Edwina rose up as instructed, the creamy suds annointing her breasts and belly.
‘I’ll rinse you then dry you.’
The ‘ma’am’ had been dropped. The maid was now in control of her mistress.
‘Turn around.’ The curt command brought a slight flush to Edwina’s cheeks. Her shining buttocks wobbled as she obeyed.
‘Close your eyes.’ Heather mounted a small foot stool and emptied the ewer of ice-cold water in a sluicing cascade over the nude.
Edwina gasped and squealed, hugging and squeezing her breasts protectively. The cold water raised her thick nipples up instantly.
‘Stop that silly noise.’ Spank. Heather slapped the wet bottom sharply. ‘Hurry up and get out.’
Edwina half turned towards the maid, her lips parted in wonder. Her left hand was at her spanked but
tock, soothing the reddening cheek.
‘Leave that alone or there’ll be another,’ Heather snapped.
Edwina dropped her hands, exposing her bare bottom to the whim of the maid’s spanking hand – the maid who was now utterly in command of her mistress shivering before her.
Roughly towelled dry, during which operation her breasts suffered cruelly, Edwina trembled eagerly as she waited for the fine sprinkle of dusting powder to be applied. Heather guided the nude to the bed in the adjoining chamber and arranged her captive face-down upon the bedspread. Cupping her right hand, she sprinkled the rose-scented powder until her palm was pale. Applying the dusting powder gently at first, Heather’s touch became increasingly dominant as it swept down the dimpled spine and firmly caressed the proffered buttocks. Moaning into the pillow, Edwina inched her hips and thighs up so that her bare bottom could enjoy the delicious sensation of the sleek palm at her swollen curves. Spank. The sudden blow caused her heavy cheeks to wobble. Edwina hissed her pleasure – the necessary signal for the punishment to begin in earnest.
Heather mounted the bed, dimpling the bedspread as she knelt, using her left hand to pin her naked mistress down by the nape of the neck while her right hand cupped and squeezed the buttocks beneath its controlling touch. Edwina wriggled and squirmed in a token show of resistance, rubbing her nipples and pussy-lips into the rasp of the bedspread. Four harsh spanks rang out, the small, firm hand cracking down across the helpless cheeks. Edwina writhed in delicious pain, her sinuous jerking and sensuous wriggling immediately inflaming the hand into a furious, blistering staccato. The quickened hand caused the pink cheeks to redden as the crimson flush of pain spread across their delicious curves. Tiny red blotches betrayed the harsh imprint of the spanking hand’s fingertips along the outer buttock’s swell.
Squealing loudly, Edwina tried in vain to twist out of the maid’s pinioning grip.
‘Be still,’ Heather commanded. ‘I know when.’
Slumping down in submission, the mistress moaned as the maid ravished the bare buttocks with her spanking hand. Curving her hot palm, Heather shuffled her knees a fraction and stretched across to reach the outer cheek. Edwina writhed as the unblemished flesh burned pink then as uniformly crimson as its already punished twin. Satisfied, the maid addressed the soft sweep of the lower buttocks at the point where they melted into the swell of the upper thighs. Her angled hand swept up into the helpless flesh, causing her victim to scream.
‘Silence.’
Obediently, Edwina bit the pillow to muffle her moans. In a swift test of her sovereignty, Heather relaxed her grip, releasing the spanked nude from her thrall. Edwina remained prone and still, squeezing her reddened cheeks spasmodically. Whimpering softly, she gestured for the return of her punisher’s controlling hands. Smiling, the maid cupped and sharply squeezed both of the crimson buttocks then, lowering her face down into their inviting swell, licked and softly bit the chastised bottom.
Edwina’s fists pummelled the bedspread. She jerked her nakedness against its rough weave, rasping her pussy so that the juicy outer lips splayed wide and her tingling inner fleshfolds raked the fabric deliciously.
‘No. Stop that,’ Heather warned, tapping the naked bottom with an admonishing forefinger. ‘Not now. You must not be late for dinner. Tonight,’ she murmured, fingering Edwina’s sticky cleft lightly before scratching at the hot sphincter within, ‘I will come to you. And I will bring something special. Something special for your naughty, bare bottom.’
Dinner was dispiriting. Lady Alice’s fare was in itself quite acceptable – oyster soup, turbot, a baron of beef, a baked, spiced ham, Orkney cheese and fruits from the hothouse – but the company was dull and the conversation duller. The men dined separately. From time to time, gusts of coarse laughter bellowed from their secluded lair. Later, they would withdraw for cigars, brandy and ribaldry behind firmly closed doors. Lady Alice conducted her table with crisp propriety. Tomorrow, she informed her female guests, there would be a bracing walk to the kirk with religious texts and samplers to sew after lunch.
Edwina, her bottom still stinging after the severe spanking, squirmed and squashed her hot cheeks into the hard seat of her wooden chair. To her delight and shame, her belly tightened and her juices flowed freely as the baked, spiced ham was brought to the table. Its pinkness was just like that of a freshly chastised bottom; as the succulent meat surrendered to the carving knife, she felt her inner muscles spasm and implode.
Between the removal of the Orkney cheese and the arrival of the fruit, Lady Alice saw fit to complete her young guests’ social education, launching into an interminable disquisition on the etiquette of rough shooting. Edwina fiddled with her ivory-handled fruit fork. Would midnight never come?
‘It’s a tawse. For your backside. Like I promised.’
Edwina shrank a little from the brutal length of leather. Her sudden movement caused the candle flame to flicker.
‘Touch it,’ Heather urged, offering the supple tawse to the young lady in the bed.
Edwina stretched out a curious finger and traced it along the shining hide. Emboldened, she accepted it across the palm of her upturned hand. Feeling its weight, she shivered.
‘Smell it.’ The maid’s tone was curt. Only her eyes betrayed her fierce excitement.
Edwina obediently sniffed.
‘Taste.’
Her flickering tongue-tip darted forth, retreating instantly from the haunting tang.
‘Face down. I’ll take the pillows,’ Heather grunted softly as she gathered them up, ‘and put them here.’
Edwina, turning over in the bed, felt the pillows between her naked hips and the cool linen sheet beneath. She nestled her pussy into their softness.
‘Makes your bum nice and big and round,’ the maid remarked, dragging the top sheet and blanket down to the end of the narrow bed. ‘Hands up to the bedstead.’
Edwina’s fingers blindly sought and found the brass-work at once. She gripped the dull metal tightly.
Crack. The broad belt whistled down, searing the proffered cheeks viciously. The punished nude squealed and clenched her whipped cheeks in a reflex of sudden agony. A second, then a third sharp crack followed, the swift strokes lashing down harshly across the naked bottom. At the brasswork, the gripping fingers splayed in an ecstasy of anguish. The punisher’s grunts of exertion were drowned by the punished nude’s choking sobs of joy.
‘Silence,’ Heather warned, raising the tawse once more above the quivering buttocks. ‘Especially when you reach your satisfaction.’
Whimpering softly, Edwina tightened her grip on the brass bedstead and buried her face in the mattress.
The maid teased the hot buttocks of her mistress with the tip of the dangling tawse. Edwina jerked her whipped cheeks up and tried to capture it in her cleft. Heather grinned, snapped the leather aloft then swiftly cracked it down. The broad belt lashed the buttock’s rounded swell, briefly flattening the double crimson domes. Edwina shuddered in response.
She’ll be loud, this one, when she boils over. She’s simmering nicely now, Heather thought as she fingered the tawse. Simmering nicely. Another three’ll bring her to the seethe.
Crack. The leather barked. The nude jerked and squealed, her reddening cheeks wobbling deliciously.
Two more, Heather mused, and this little rabbit will be done to a turn. Flayed, skinned and all in a bubbling stew. Better let her bite the leather to silence her shrieking.
Eyes closed, her sphincter opening into a puckering crater, Edwina crushed her wet pussy into the pillows. The maid delayed the strokes. The mistress began to beg.
Strachayle Castle woke to a sharp frost. Lady Alice chivvied her guests to the kirk and back along the glittering lanes. After lunch in the draughty dining room, the women heard the men departing for more rough shooting. The Godolphin girls declined the invitation to sew samplers and retired to their respective rooms.
Edwina, claiming a headache, locked her door. She assured Lady Alice
that all she required was a little rest. Listening to the retreating footsteps of her hostess, she started to loosen her bustle. Before the full-length looking glass, she raised her crinoline and petticoat and tucked them up at her waist. Slowly peeling down her camiknickers, she thrust her bottom pertly towards the glass. Over her shoulder, she glimpsed the angry weals. The red stripes where the tawse had kissed her so savagely were still vividly imprinted across her rounded cheeks. Staggering across to the bed – hampered by her partial state of undress – she buried her face into the pillow which had captured the soak of her wet heat the night before. Moaning softly as her fingers scrabbled at her pussy, she sniffed the white pillow case, then kissed it devotedly.
Fuelled by the delicious memory of the tawse across her upturned cheeks, Edwina arrowed her arms down to the base of her belly. Just as Heather the maid had shown her, she nipped her little pink love-thorn between her thumb-tips. Moments later, Edwina bit the pillow, tearing it open with her clenched white teeth.
‘Lady Alice wondered if there was anything you required, ma’am.’
Charlotte, bored and discontented, did not even bother to turn her gaze away from the window. Ignoring the maid, she shook her head.
‘Sure, ma’am?’
‘Nothing,’ Charlotte snapped.
Heather hesitated, reluctant to depart.
‘One moment, girl.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘Have all the men gone to the shoot?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Lady Alice insists that all the guns go out.’
‘Even young Hugh Lambton?’
‘The poet, ma’am? Most reluctant, he was, but Lady Alice was firm.’
Charlotte received and accepted the disappointment in silence, but the maid, perceptive and shrewd, suddenly understood. What else would a stern young beauty like Miss Charlotte want with a poor stick like that long-haired poet Hugh Lambton if not for an afternoon of games – games in which the rules were strict and the penalties severe?
Brought to Heel Page 7