by Lucy Wild
“Before noon dear?” his wife asked, raising her eyebrows at him.
“We must do something about her,” he replied, pouring out a glass and circling it in his hand, taking a long lingering sniff of the amber fluid before slumping into his favourite armchair. “She is incorrigible.”
Lady Elizabeth set down her knitting as the fire spat behind her. “We could try boarding school again?”
Lord Carrington took a sip of brandy, wincing as he espied Amelia continuing to yell at the poor gardener. “She’d only escape and come home. How many times has she done that so far?”
“I stopped counting after ten but she’s older now. She’s nineteen, old enough to start acting like an adult, not a petulant child.”
“Don’t remind me. I am not looking forward to the birthday ball tonight.” He shuddered and set down his glass. “Perhaps we should marry her off.”
“Edward dear, I am very fond of you but sometimes your ideas are of the more far-fetched variety. Who on earth would want to take on a spoiled little brat like our daughter?”
Lord Carrington sighed and got to his feet, digging out his pocketbook. “I’m going to give another pound note to the gardener. I only hope we find some way to curtail her tantrums or we’ll soon be ruined and the staff will be as rich as Solomon.”
“Must you dear?”
“They threatened to leave en mass after her last outburst in the kitchen, pouring scalding hot soup onto the chef like that. I don’t know where she gets it from.”
“You mollycoddled her from a young age Edward. Never disciplined her, never set her straight, let her have anything she asked for.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” He said from the doorway. “Still, what’s past is past. All we can hope to do now is improve her future.”
That night the largest room in the mansion was alive with people. Normally a deathly quiet echoing chamber, it came into its own during the balls and parties held by Lord Carrington.
Amelia stood at one side of the room with a scowl on her face and her arms folded whilst Lord and Lady Carrington waited nervously to see just what she was furious about this time.
“It’s my party, I should get to dance with whoever I wish.”
“It’s whomever dear,” her mother smiled.
“I don’t care a fig for your grammar. I want to dance with Jeremy and that fat pig from Chertswell House is hogging him all to herself.”
Lady Carrington looked across the dancefloor. There was Jeremy Hundell, a stout gentleman of twenty four in which she could see little reason for such levels of interest. Was it solely because he seemed to be enjoying himself with Jemima Chertswell? “Perhaps you could have the next dance with him my dear,” she smiled.
“I don’t want the next dance. I don’t want a damned party. I want to be left alone!” She stamped her feet and stormed towards the double doors at the far end of the hall. Looking behind her at Jeremy as she went, she marched straight into the outstretched hand of one of the guests. His drink slipped from his grip and the contents fell straight down the front of Amelia’s dress.
She let out a shriek of disgust and raised her hand as if to strike the stranger. Even the band stopped playing as her voice echoed around the hall. “You have ruined my dress sir!” she screamed.
Nobody heard what the man said in response but her arm fell limply by her side almost instantly. He leaned forwards and whispered something in her ear and she seemed to quiver in response. Lady Carrington turned to her husband and frowned. Had their daughter actually backed down? This was unprecedented. Lord Carrington nodded back to her, as if to say, ‘I know, we should hire this fellow as her tutor immediately.’
Amelia passed out of the hall but slowly and with her head down. She did not look back as a groom opened the door for her, closing it after she’d left. The band struck up once more as Lord Carrington began trying to weave his way through the mass of bodies to converse with the stranger who had managed to subdue his daughter. Look whichever way he might, the gentleman could not be found.
In bed that night, Lord and Lady Carrington spoke at length about the evening’s festivities. “We must speak to Amelia in the morning and find out what he said to her,” said Lord Carrington.
“I doubt she will tell you.”
“I am her father. She must obey me.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You seem to labour under a misunderstanding of who your daughter is.”
“Nonetheless if she can be subdued once, it can happen again. We could have a pleasant child once more, a credit to the family, a delight to be around!”
“Calm down dear. First you must find the gentleman, second he must agree to assist us and third, Amelia must acquiesce to the treatment required.”
Chapter 2
When Amelia awoke in her bedroom the next morning her first thought was an angry one. Where was her maid? Sighing, she pushed back the bed covers and threw open her curtains, staring out at the lawn and catching sight of that damned gardener who’d been so impertinent the day before. She aimed to have him relieved of his position by the end of the day. But how?
Carrie, the chambermaid burst in seconds later. “Sorry I’m late Miss Amelia,” she said, flustered and pale. “Only your father asked me…”
“Excuses do not interest me,” Amelia replied. “You were late. You will be punished. Assume the position at once.”
“But Miss Amelia. It’s not right.”
“Are you questioning me?”
“No miss.”
“Assume the position!” Amelia roared, her face flared with anger.
Carrie’s shoulders slumped as she walked slowly over the dressing table and bent over it, gripping the edge with her hands and grimacing as she waited.
Amelia loved this part the most, the waiting. It gave her a sense of her own power that was unsurpassed in any other situation. Strolling back and forth behind Carrie, she sermonised for many minutes on the importance of timekeeping, of obeying your mistress, of not answering back. Only when a quarter of an hour had passed did she lean over and lift the maid’s dress from her ankles, sliding it up over her stockinged legs before setting it down on her waist, leaving it bunched there, the poor girl’s knickers exposed to the chill morning air.
“There was no fire when I awoke,” Amelia said, taking hold of Carrie’s white cotton drawers and yanking them down to her ankles. “As your goose bumps inform me, it is cold in here is it not? Is this how a lady should be treated?”
“No miss.”
“I said, is this how a lady should be treated?”
“No miss Amelia.”
“Now I think six for the lateness and a dozen for the answering back. What say you?”
“Whatever you think best miss.”
“That’s right,” Amelia smiled, drawing back her hand above her head. “Whatever I think best.”
She brought her hand down onto Carrie’s bottom with a resounding smack. She frowned as the maid remained silent. “Not hard enough is it?” she snarled, whipping her hand down five more times, each blow harder than the last.
Pausing for a moment she ran her hand over the reddened flesh of the maid’s bottom, relishing the heat she felt there, knowing she’d been the cause and there was nothing Carrie could do about it.
“A dozen more I believe,” she said, spanking hard but stopping between each one, waiting for a delicious few seconds as Carrie remained as quiet as a mouse.
With four to go, she stopped, kicking the maid’s ankles further apart, staring intently at her exposed pussy which had become swollen, a glistening line of dampness coating the exposed lips.
“You must learn to be on time,” she growled, landing the final four blows in quick succession.
Carrie remained in place, that was good. She’d remembered from last time not to move until told. Kneeling down behind her, Amelia leaned her face close enough to smell the sweet scent of her servant, breathing it in whilst holding a trembling hand forwards. She knew what she wan
ted to do, she knew what the maid wanted her to do but still she hesitated, unable to take the step into a world from which there might be no return.
Placing the tips of her fingers on Carrie’s left buttock, she slid slowly downwards towards her pussy, glancing around her as if expecting to be caught and told to stop at any moment by one superior to her.
Her fingers kept moving and with her breath held, she let them glide over the wetness that spread outwards. “You dirty girl, you’ve enjoyed this haven’t you?” she yelled, spreading her pussy lips apart whilst maintaining the appearance of anger even though in her mind the sensation had long been exchanged for a different feeling, that of amorous intentions.
With the lips held apart by one hand, she was better able to observe her maid’s pink hole, her mind screaming at her to delve inside. Instead she brushed her other hand along the length of soaking pussy, finding the nub at the tip engorged and hardened. Stroking over it, she felt her own clit tingle and begin to ache.
Carrie let out a quiet moan and that was enough to shake Amelia from her reverie. She stood up and stepped back. “Dress me and be on with your duties,” she said.
“Yes miss,” Carrie curtseyed, her dress falling back into place. She leaned down to pick up her knickers whereupon Amelia shook her head.
“Leave them on the floor. A guttersnipe such as you does not deserve to wear them.
“Yes miss,” Carrie repeated, walking over to the wardrobe and selecting a morning dress. She draped it across the bed before turning to her waiting mistress.
“Quickly now for I am hungry.”
“Yes miss.”
As Amelia’s night shirt was lifted from her, she focussed on her breathing, hoping her own arousal was not noticeable. Her nipples were rigid, jutting forwards as the maid’s hands brushed over them.
When the night shirt was set aside Amelia had to fight to resist touching her clit which continued to throb with desire. Carrie helped her into her knickers, her fingers sliding up her thighs and, just for a moment, touching her pussy.
Amelia bit her lip to keep from crying out, her hole growing moist whilst Carrie turned to pick up the dress. She helped her mistress step into it, brushing it down into place before stepping back.
“Be here on time tomorrow morning without fail,” Amelia snapped before striding from the room.
Chapter 3
When she arrived in the breakfast room she found her parents waiting alongside a stranger sat at the head of the table, munching heartily on bacon and eggs. She glanced at him, trying to place his face.
“Ah, darling daughter. Do join us. You recall George Jenkins from the ball?”
Amelia almost staggered. It was him, the one who’d spilled his drink on her. Had he told her parents what he’d told her? She could only hope not.
Taking her place, the serving staff filled her plate. Lord Carrington winced, as if expecting her to snap at them for some imagined deficiency but she remained meek and quiet whilst eating.
“Mr Jenkins has offered to tutor you my dear,” Lord Carrington said as he sipped his coffee. “What do you think of that?”
“What do I need tutoring in?”
“Deportment, manners, how to be a lady,” Lady Carrington said. “All the things in which you are currently sadly lacking.”
“I am a lady,” Amelia replied, glancing at the stranger who had yet to speak. “I need no assistance from one such as him.”
“I disagree,” said Lord Carrington. “This morning I awoke to find a gentleman was waiting on our doorstep. He stayed overnight at Thirsby in order to return first thing and make his offer to us.
“One week in his care and you will be a different girl. I hope you will agree it is worth seven days away from home to gain a most useful education.”
“I don’t want an education,” Amelia whined.
“You need one,” Mr Jenkins said, speaking up for the first time. “I’ve never met such a whiny little brat as you.”
Amelia puffed up her chest. “How dare you sir!”
He continued speaking, ignoring her outburst. “A self centred, arrogant, spoilt young woman who needs to learn some self discipline if she is ever to find a husband.
“There will be no more yelling, no more tantrums, for they will not work with me as well as they have clearly worked all too well on your doting parents.”
“Father?” Amelia said, her voice tentative.
“Do not turn to him when I am addressing you!” Mr Jenkins roared.
Amelia jumped, she was not used to voices raised against her but something about this stranger’s manner demanded attention. She turned to look at him as he continued.
“I believe in a simple technique for the improvement of humanity. Chastisement for poor behaviour, rewards for good, training to teach you how to know the difference.”
“Capital sir!” said Lord Carrington, spitting out toast crumbs. “Absolutely capital!”
“I won’t go,” Amelia said although the fight was already fading from her voice.
“You will,” Lord Carrington said. “Or we will disown you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“He would,” said Jenkins quietly. “I have had quite a long conversation with both your parents. “Either you come with me for one week, payment on satisfaction of the course, or you will never receive another penny of your allowance. What say you now?”
“Father?”
Mr Jenkins scraped back his chair and stood up. “I warned you once to face me when I address you. I do not give a second warning.” He grabbed Amelia by the arm and yanked her out of her chair.
As he dragged her from the room, she pleaded with her parents to stop this madness.
“I am sorry,” Lord Carrington said as she was pulled through the doorway. “This is for the best.
The door slammed closed and she was alone with Mr Jenkins in an anteroom. “Bend over that chair!” he boomed.
“I will not!”
“You will!” With those words he forced her into place, bent over an armchair with her bottom jutting out behind her. “If you move I shall inform your parents of your ill discipline and your allowance will be burnt in the hearth forevermore.
Amelia remained frozen in place, trying to decide on a course of action. She was not chained in place of course, she could turn and leave the room in a second. But if they truly did stop funding her lifestyle what then? She pictured herself hammering on the door of the workhouse, her clothes in rags, her beautiful hair in greasy knotted clumps.
The tension in her body grew as she heard Mr Jenkins pacing behind her. This must be how Carrie felt, she thought and as she did so a shudder passed through her.
Shuffling her legs, she felt a wetness forming on her pussy. Was it despite her fear or perhaps because of it? Something about the stranger sent tremors through her soul. She’d felt it last night when he’d faced her down in the ballroom. When he’d whispered that she was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen, she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. All thoughts of yelling or violence had vanished from her mind in an instant. When he leaned towards her ear and mentioned how hard he’d become at mere sight of her, she’d left the room in a fluster, not knowing what to think for the first time in her life.
She realised Mr Jenkins was speaking and begged his forgiveness for not paying attention. What are you doing, she asked herself. You’ve never asked anyone for forgiveness before.
“I said remain still and do not cry out or it will all the worse for you.”
Silence.
“To that you reply yes sir. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. That’s a good start.”
She felt his hands on the hem of her dress and he slowly lifted it to her hips, draping it across her back. She shuffled her legs again, wondering if the pool of moisture on her pussy was visible through her drawers. She gasped as her tore them away from her, ripping them in half and tossing them aside.
“You shall not need those again for some time,” he replied. “Now mind what I said. Silence throughout.”
There was a moment’s pause, Amelia’s body rigid with tension as she waited. Finally with a whoosh of air his hand slammed down across her buttocks making her stand straight upright as a stinging pain passed through her.
“Another one for not remaining in place,” he snapped, forcing her back down. “That makes six more.”
He spanked her again a second later and this time she manged to remain in place, gripping the chair before her to stop herself from automatically standing up. As blows three, four, and five landed she let out a long slow breath, fighting to resist crying out.
“Good,” Mr Jenkins muttered. “Very good I must say.”
As the final spanks landed Amelia sighed with relief, turning to stand up.
“I did not say you could move. Back into place and two more for your impertinence.”
She turned and bent over, realising he hadn’t had to force her this time. Her dress was lifted again and this time he groped her buttocks with his rough fingers, squeezing them hard before spanking her twice more. She waited in silence.
“You may return to your breakfast,” Mr Jenkins said at last. “Once you have eaten be ready to leave in an hour.”
Amelia nodded. “Yes sir,” she said, walking slowly back to the breakfast room, her cheeks stinging and her pussy throbbing. As she ate in silence Mr Jenkins spoke to Lord and Lady Carrington.
“She will not be the same woman when she returns, you must accept that.”
“We sincerely hope that to be the case,” said Lord Carrington. “I trust you spoke to her firmly in private?”
“That I did,” he replied. “We had an instructive conversation but my methods, I’m afraid, must remain confidential or every Tom, Dick, and Harry would set up their rival businesses and then where would I be?”
“Of course sir,” replied Lord Carrington. “I will not ask again.”
An hour later Amelia was standing on the drive by the main door, her suitcase beside her. She had little to pack, being told she needed no clothing as it would be provided for her. Taking a few books, her hairbrush and sundry items of a trivial nature, she knew not what might be needed as she knew not what her week away would entail.