Notebooks of the Young Wife

by Tara Black

  ‘The way it’s been drawn, you’d think the thing was a broom she picked up from the corner.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a bit comical really. That doesn’t look like it would do much.’

  ‘No, the proper thing, I’m told, is made of a small number of slim switches. Very whippy.’

  ‘Ouch.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Well, I’m only supposing. I never...’

  ‘Oh yes, it’s the very devil. Feels like the skin’s being flayed right off. But actually it soon mends.’ My authoritative pronouncement had rather given the game away, but Rachel looked suitably impressed and I decided it was as well she knew our department was no ivory tower.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve led a very sheltered life.’

  ‘There are remedies, you know. Now I keep a list out here...’ I’d gone through the connecting door still speaking, but what I found brought me up short. A figure huge in silhouette against the window moved forward without speaking and laid a cane on the desk between us. After the initial shock I saw it was no more – and no less – than the visitor I’d been expecting. He must have come down the back stair and that implement was very like one that lived in a stand in the office. And that meant that Dominic...

  By that time Rachel appeared in the doorway, wide eyes moving from the Master to me to the crook-handled length of rattan. Still he was saying nothing so I broke the silence.

  ‘Rachel, I’m going to need a few minutes here in private. If you’ve got plenty to carry on with for now...’

  ‘Of course, yes. I’ll do that.’ After an anxious glance at the intruder she was gone and the closing door made a reassuringly solid sound.

  ‘I took the liberty of asking for a loan of the rod from the young man. I have to admit that the qualities of these articles become more and more evident with use.’ Wondering quite how all this ‘use’ was being achieved, I was briefly diverted by an image of the staff at Ardingley End being summoned to the study one by one, with Mrs Jencks herself perhaps being saved until last. However, he was now in my domain and I needed to take charge of the situation.

  ‘Am I to assume, sir, that you plan to extend your experience with the borrowed instrument?’

  ‘I do; that is, if you agree there is cause.’

  ‘Cause?’ If submitting to a demonstration of his new prowess would secure a blessing on the books residing where they were, then I was game. But first, he would have to spell it out.

  ‘Do you not own to being unscrupulous in removing the collection?’

  ‘It is my job to secure what items I can for the Library. In my position you would surely have acted in the same way. And it is done: you were too late for negotiation.’ The silence that followed told of his reluctance to accept what I was saying, so I made a bid to cut the knot. ‘I’ll be blunt, sir. Nothing technically wrong was done in clearing the books from the house. However, you have hard feelings that you would like to take out on somebody. Well, here I am, at your disposal.’

  There was a longer silence but at the end of it he said, ‘Thank you, Dr Greene.’ Then he cleared his throat and for the first time in our acquaintance I detected diffidence. ‘There is one more thing you might clarify for me about these English practices.’

  ‘Ask away, please.’

  ‘I have found mention of the way in which a master in your old public schools might, ah, make free with a boy’s rear end after he had striped it.’

  ‘Not exactly a practice, I have to say, but it did happen. Prefects, even, were known so to indulge themselves.’ If he wasn’t going to name names nor was I, but my poker face was threatening to crack at his euphemistic turn of phrase. So I rummaged in a drawer for a packet, took from it a small capsule and passed it over, after which I felt able to continue in an appropriately serious tone. ‘I am happy to oblige, though I would suggest you insert this right at the start to achieve adequate lubrication for the finale. Now, sir, when the business is finished, can I count on that also being the end of the matter of the books?’

  ‘You have my word.’ I took him at it, lowered my jeans and stretched out over the desk. He parted my buttocks with a grunt of approval and pushed the pessary home. Given my rather spare appearance, he was no doubt agreeably surprised by the meatiness of the area I’d uncovered. It was a pleasing thought but short-lived, as the situation I’d talked myself into so gaily began to hit home. There I was, face down and arse up for patriarchal displeasure to be vented thereon. It was now a matter of honour – as with Madame – to stay the course, only this time I didn’t yet know what that course was. Nor did I know how proficient the southpaw had become, though what he was equipped with could impart a wicked lick and I feared the worst.

  There wasn’t long to wait. One touch of the cool wood was all the aim taken, and the first blow was delivered to the exact mark. There is a moment following an accurate and forceful cane stroke that is quite literally breathtaking: one stops breathing as the body struggles to assimilate the jolt of pain. Repeated assaults may lose the sheer shock of the first, but the space to recuperate between seems to shrink. Thus after six full-blooded cuts I found myself gasping between clenched teeth, ‘You’re hurting me, sir.’

  ‘That is my intention. We’ve done six and I’m of a mind to do the same again. And then once more for good measure.’ There was a quiet relish in the words that chilled me into silence. I could have walked out at any time, but it was out of the question to admit defeat on my own ground.

  And take it I did – just. The final three were the hardest of all on flesh that was achingly tender. I writhed speechlessly until firm hands took charge of my hips and there was a hard nosing at the hole between my buttocks. He was wet and the jelly had done its work so there was no friction to impede his entry. But he was big, both thick and long, and I was distended beyond all prior experience.

  To cap it all, he was given to an energetic thrusting that soon had me hanging on with the same grim determination necessary to survive the cane. It was a mercy that its use seemed to have so excited him that ejaculation took place almost at once, and I was allowed to slump on the unyielding surface while he disappeared to wash up. When he returned I struggled to my feet, clutching at my dropped jeans, and pushed him through the door. Rachel’s capable hands could take charge while I took five minutes to restore myself in the bathroom. But I was rallying well and had to admit that now the thing was done it was certainly one for the book.

  The two of them were huddled over a manuscript when I emerged, making an effort not to walk as if I’d spent an unaccustomed day in the saddle.

  ‘The young lady has been showing me how it will all be set out,’ he waved an arm at the half-filled shelves put by for the new collection, ‘and it rather pleases me that other enthusiasts will have the opportunity to benefit from these fine books. I expect to return myself if the invitation still stands.’ He was graciousness itself and I decided my throbbing bum had been a price well worth paying.

  ‘Of course, though perhaps the next time you’ll not feel the need to take such vigorous exercise on your arrival.’ The Master laughed and wished us farewell before making his way back up the stairs. Rachel was looking at me curiously.

  ‘Did you really let him cane you? I was trying not to listen, but...’

  ‘Yes, my dear, and I am sore. But he’s been made sweet, which is what matters. Now if you want to stick a very cautious toe in the water there’s an Irish girl in Soho I know who will hold your hand. I’ll email her right now, tell her to get back to you here and then you can take it from there. Right?’

  ‘You are telling me you thought it was what I really wanted?’

  ‘Well, I was reading between the lines.’

  ‘You thought I wanted to be flung over a desk and assaulted with two vicious weapons? That’s how you see me, is it? Just begging for it, can’t get enough, so we’ll set the big Texan on her?’ I was working up a good head of steam that had
Dominic looking a little surprised. But it was really no more than a variation on a scene we’d played before and he fell in with it without objection. In short order he was the one over the desk with trousers and underpants round his ankles.

  ‘Right lad, in future, before you do any reading, make sure you’ve got the right glasses on, okay?’

  ‘Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.’ I was still holding the cane I’d brought back upstairs and proceeded to lay on six stingers that had the downy cheeks bouncing. When I lifted him up he was beautifully hard and I couldn’t resist planting a kiss on the end of it. Then I made him sit on his stripes while I straddled him and lowered myself so his cock slid wetly into my sopping cunt. Oh what bliss! I drew it out for as long as I could, pulling back until I could just see the glans between my thighs, then sinking the whole length in again, exquisitely. But all too soon the rather cherubic face contorted and the climax was on us in a welter of juices.

  Eventually I eased myself painfully off Dominic’s lap and retrieved my discarded trousers. The episode played out, it was back to the routine business of the department.

  Uxor Nigra

  Tamsin cried off the next weekend, so I set out for the country on a slow Saturday morning train. At the station I made a beeline for the taxi with a rather winsome young man behind the wheel. When he learned where I was bound he looked at me with new interest, and as we drove eventually managed to ask if Ardingley End lived up to the stories that circulated about it. Rather than get him to say exactly what he meant, I took the chance to drop enough dark hints of deviant doings to feed the gossipmongers for weeks. Not purely out of mischief, for it was obvious to anyone that a tableau in the manner of the Notebooks would require more able male bodies than could be provided in-house. So once I’d satisfied myself there was some substance to the claims of being ‘well up for it’ by my driver that included at least two of his mates, I took a contact number and promised to be in touch before long. A rehearsal would establish quickly enough their abilities to rise to the occasion on demand.

  He sped away grinning immoderately, and shouldering my bag I headed up the stairs. In the study the daughters were sitting side by side with their noses stuck into the newly arrived transcripts.

  ‘Awesome,’ said Bel, after a glance to register my arrival.

  ‘Totally,’ agreed Lou. ‘Way back when and she is core. Caps. But, Dr Greene, we are looking at a problem. Those guys—’

  ‘Guys, wow.’

  ‘Footmen, she calls them. More like dickmen. Ready with what takes a girl’s fancy.’

  ‘Even girl-lovin’ girls can have fun playin’ with one.’

  ‘Sure can, Bel. But two birthday girls, now, what they need is two of them. One each. So they can fuck.’

  ‘Yeah, Lou, fuck. Out in the open. Daddy can watch if he likes but he can’t stop them. Not these two, because they’ll not be minors any longer.’

  ‘The magic age, Bel. But where are we gonna get our dick-bearers?’

  Leaving aside the intriguing notion that one’s twenty-first should be marked by having public sex under the eye of a parent, I reassured the double-act that the matter was in hand and would be dealt with promptly. It seemed the Master had seen his copy, but I’d have to wait until he got back from a tour of the woods to discuss it. My query, though, reminded Lou of his recent visit to me and I thought it as well to confess to the caning if not the rest of the ‘English practice’.

  ‘Show us,’ she demanded. It was true I’d not only seen their marks but seen them being made, so I decided it would be churlish to refuse. They gathered round to inspect ‘Daddy’s stripes’ and made commiserating noises about the number of them and how vivid they still were. Duty done, I zipped back up and left the girls to their eighteenth-century studies with the sudden thought of another problem that had not yet been broached. We could probably draft in local cocks to fill one gap, but there was the scribe herself: no bystander but a lynchpin of the show. The question was, where were we to find our uxor studiosa? Little did I realise then that an answer would be found very close to hand.

  I was too late to have a sociable lunch, and Cook bade me help myself to some bread and cheese and glass of beer that was left in the big jug. She was stood over a mixing bowl, formidable arms floured to the elbows, and explained that the Master was getting a real English steak and kidney pudding for his dinner.

  ‘Very particular, he is, to sample traditional recipes. Not that I know much about that; I just make what I always made, you understand. But it seems to suit.’ She was plainly content with the early days of the new regime, and as I ate I wondered aloud about the man’s reluctance to be identified.

  ‘Well, I heard tell that the lawyer weren’t happy about making do with “Mister X”, though he granted there were nothing illegal about it. Anyways, the house has already got a lad without a name, so what’s new? In fact we could follow their lead and all go by what we do, though it’s true we’d have a bit of trouble telling apart the maids.’

  Her comments reminded me that I’d not yet seen the boy anywhere, but I was rather hoping he’d come looking for me before the day was out. So instead, when I finished chatting with Mrs Beaton I set out to find Ama and see how she was faring under the changed circumstances. There was nothing doing in the yard, so I went straight up the stairs and peered into the hallway. When there was still no sign of life I carried on into the small kitchen to leave a note.

  I was scratching my head about the message to leave in the space below a shopping list when I realised the outside door had clicked shut. About to call out, I was stopped by a low mutter of voices followed by the sound of steps into the living room. There was no line of sight to where I stood at the counter, and there was a kind of urgency to the interchange that made me disinclined to intrude. Leaning forward, I saw the door they’d gone through was almost shut. It was time to make a swift exit, but the hall was quite dim and I risked what was intended to be a quick peek into the room. But what I saw through the crack brought me up short.

  They were facing each other, profiles sharp against the white wall behind: the black mechanic and the master of the house. Tall as she was, he was half a head taller and she looked up at him intently. Behind his back I could see he held a tight coil of black leather. Then Ama stripped off her T-shirt and in a single languid movement draped herself over the cushioned surface of the restraining machine beside them. He flicked his wrist and a yard and a half of dark snake slithered across the boards; when he flicked it again the thing rose up and fell, soft as a kiss, across the far shoulder. Above the heavy denim of the work jeans the naked back looked shockingly vulnerable and I waited, heart in mouth, for the weapon to strike. But it was not to be, not then. He began to speak quietly, and I watched mesmerised as he traced line by line with the forked leather tip where each lash was going to land. If...

  Her response to the question in his voice was to push herself up and go over to the wall. There she thumbed down jeans and pants and offered the man a bare rump. This time he took the stock of the whip, parted the buttocks with it and thrust it between her legs. At once she arched her back and rode on it, back and forth, and the moaning that came from her throat made me suddenly flush in shame at what I was doing. Wrenching myself away I heard him pronounce, ‘You must take all. The alternative is nothing. You understand?’

  Ama’s answer, ‘All, oh all,’ was a shuddering gasp that seemed to follow me fleeing down the steps. All: the whip, the house, him.

  Safely out of the yard I slowed down and took a detour along the edge of the pasture beyond the vegetable garden to gather my thoughts. Its form was unconventional, to say the least, but there seemed little doubt that what I’d spied was a proposal of marriage. And it had been accepted: in the heat of the moment, but if I knew my Ama, no less surely for that. The new Master of Ardingley End was to be joined by a new Mistress.

  In the evening I tracked down the man hi
mself to the den at the back of the library, where he was busy unpacking a special delivery of books. Able to begin filling the shelves our acquisition had emptied, he was amenable to sampling the bottle of Talisker I presented, even to forgoing ice in favour of a little cool water from the adjoining pantry. After I spent some time admiring a copy of The Wandering Whore from 1660, and a Manon la Fouëtteuse from two centuries later with finely rendered ink-drawings, I poured out a second generous tot. He sniffed it and rolled a good sip around on the tongue.

  ‘Distinctive,’ was all he offered, apparently without irony, though I wondered at one used to bourbon taking so quickly to the sharp smoky taste of the Skye malt. ‘Now, Dr Greene,’ he said, pulling the transcripts towards him, ‘about this tableau. What would you say if I put the whole matter in your hands?’ I must have looked startled, for he went on to explain. ‘What I would like is to reproduce as closely as we can what the young lady sets out. I believe the description allows that, since she spares us none of the, ah, details.’

  ‘She is nothing if not explicit.’ I smiled, nodding.

  ‘I have not yet compared our resources here with the cast used in the original, but it strikes me we are likely lacking suitable men.’

  ‘Indeed sir, that’s right, and I have already taken the liberty of finding a contact among the local lads. I’d be prepared to screen them personally to see if they, er, come up to scratch.’ The euphemistic speech seemed to be catching. ‘It occurs to me too that we are missing the young wife who not only recorded the event but played a major rôle in it.’

  ‘Well, Dr Greene, that is one base I do have covered. Trust me, by the time we shall have a performer licensed for the very part.’ He took a drink and so did I. It was all I was going to get out of him at that point. However, I hadn’t quite done probing.