The Science of Submission

by Victoria Winters

  He was led into a room, not the Dragon’s Lair but deeper underground still. It was known as the Dragon’s Dungeon, a place he remembered fearing a great deal as a young man. Upon entering the room, he discovered half a dozen of his fellow lords testing out some of the various punishment implements hanging on the walls. In the center of the room was a single lantern casting light upon a bar that had been affixed to the floor by two metal sawhorses. A smaller lord, Dudley, the Baron of Berkshire, climbed up to the dias and they all pulled up their hoods. They could hear feet marching towards the dungeon. The door slid open and several hooded men walked in, accompanied by seven naked young men. The boys were all university age and they did not look happy to be facing their midnight disciplinary session. As they lined up in a row, all of them dropped their heads, hiding their privates from prying eyes behind their clasped hands, except for one young man. He was a tall, strapping brunette with a strong jaw who reminded Stefan very much of himself as a student. The lad held his head up, his chin lifted and eyes fearless as he looked at the masked figures surrounding the room.

  The lords had lined up and Stefan fell back to the end. He knew which young buck he wanted to apply the cane to and he took the same position in line that the brave strapping lad did. The first young man was nudged forward by the staff of the robed figure who had led them in. Slowly, hesitantly, he approached the bar. The goal of each of these young men, the waiting lords well knew, was to withstand their discipline without making a sound. They did not wish to shame themselves before their peers or the members of the nobility in the room. They would have to face these men in the future socially and professionally and a fellow’s reputation could be ruined by comporting himself in a weak manner at such a crucial time.

  Dudley had selected a senior cane to dispense discipline with. A good choice, Stefan thought because he had seen Dudley in action before. He struck with the arm of a woman. The naked young man was forced to turn and face the assemblage and Dudley grabbed his right hand and held it over his head.

  The leader in the red cloak had taken his place at the podium and opened the large black book marked “Disciplina Draco” – Latin for ‘The Discipline of the Dragon’, embossed in red letters. “Your name and title?” he asked of the young man who had flushed scarlet.

  “Viscount Edward Landford.” He said in a quavering voice, ashamed to have to give his name as he stood nude in front of everyone.

  The leader checked the book and gave the count. “Seven strokes,” it sounded like the young man had had a very lively month earning himself this many credits. The hooded lords all turned to each other and shook their heads, as if scandalized at the young gentleman’s behavior. Edward, a blond, slender young man, who didn’t look much manlier than Dudley, lowered his head and began to tremble. He stumbled as Dudley turned him towards the bar. Reluctantly he crawled over it. Minions secured his ankles with straps and his wrists to the legs on the other side of the bars. Stefan could see the manhood that had been heretofore hidden behind his clasped hands, hanging between his spread legs.

  Dudley did not waste time. He reached the cane back and swung in, connecting with a loud thwuck. Edward, to his credit, did not move nor make a sound. Next he tapped the spot where he planned to land the next stroke. He came in high. Stefan shook his head. Dudley, not surprisingly, had terrible aim. Stefan fought the urge to climb the steps and wrest the cane away from the incompetent fool and deliver a proper caning. But Dudley carried on and Edward silently endured and there were seven raised welts on the young fellow’s arse at the end.

  One by one, each of the penitents came forward and received their punishment. One fellow was fortunate that his chastiser had chosen a paddle when the count—20— was read. He held steady but wailed mightily as the paddle was applied with great vigor to his buttocks. Another visibly flinched when his chastiser unveiled his weapon of choice—a martinette. With the metal tips affixed to the lashes, it could do a great deal of damage. Fortunately the count was only six and the chastiser skilled in its application, so the naked young penitent’s hind quarters did not look any worse than his peers by the end.

  The next two young men, both slender and meek, bravely took their place over the bar but once their punishments began, both receiving the strap, there was a great deal of grunting, yelps and a sob or two. But the straps ensured that they had no choice but to endure until the bitter end. Eventually there were six young men, their bottoms on display to the room, their hands on their heads, as they stood shoulder to shoulder facing the wall waiting until the session was complete.

  Finally it was just Stefan and the brawny young man left. As Stefan studied him, he realized who he was. It was the young lord he’d been introduced to earlier in the evening, the second son who had recently and unexpectedly inherited upon the death of the heir. He appeared to be a bit older than the other boys and was probably being given a crash course introduction to the society. But before he could take his rightful place as a cryptkeeper-in-training, he had to be given a proper introduction to the Dragon’s Dungeon and learn his place at the receiving end of Stefan’s cane. Stefan had no intention of going easy on the lad. He himself had taken his licks as a young man and the sessions had done him no harm whatsoever. It was now young Leonard’s turn. He was delighted at this opportunity to cane a fellow earl, a rare treat.

  Leonard the new Earl of Tensley, climbed the dias and faced his chastiser. Based on the size of the man, he suspected that it was Lord Cavendish whom he had been introduced to earlier that evening. He had been impressed by the man’s size and had not seen anyone taller or more muscular in the building. He gulped, Stefan was most intimidating. Leonard had no intention of moving or making a sound while over the bar. He too had a strong, muscular physique and intended to take his strokes like a man.

  Stefan took his wrist and held Leonard’s hand up as the count was read—12—and the young man spoke his name and title. “Have fortitude, my boy,” Stefan whispered, breaking with tradition. Leonard gingerly climbed over the bar and was soon trussed up like a turkey, his backside at a perfect level to receive the cane.

  Stefan studied the lad’s buttocks. They were quite muscular and pronounced, his manhood impressive even under these circumstances. “Made for the cane,” was the thought that occurred. He decided not to hold back, as he would if striking a pair of softer female buttocks. This young fellow would take a man’s punishment; crucial in his training, since he had already inherited. He tapped his bottom, right at the fullest part, reached back and struck. His aim was impeccable. He tapped again, right below the first and then struck again. Leonard had not made a sound but he still had ten to go. He struck four more times and stopped to inspect the tracks he’d laid down. As he pinched the various welts and rubbed the young man’s buttocks, he got a yelp out of the lad. He decided to finish up quickly without respite. Although Leonard made not a sound after that, he did dance for Stefan, bouncing up and down on his heels as the cane made a distinct impression upon the young man’s character.

  As Stefan took the tug back to his yacht, he smiled. He had quite enjoyed that. Getting the opportunity to cane a fellow member of the nobility was a rare treat. Stefan held the dossier in his hands that he had been given upon his departure. He would spend most of the three week crossing studying every detail contained in the packet, plotting how to retrieve the necklace without endangering himself or his loved ones.

  But he had an even rarer treat waiting for him on board the ship. His little Margie would be sound asleep in her crib by now after a strenuous day of obeying her intimidating nanny. He decided that on the morrow, after plotting the course with the captain and overseeing the battening down of the hatches in preparation for the cross-Atlantic voyage, he planned to introduce his little one to her long promised spanking at his hand. The young woman who had been so cross with him in the carriage would find that his threat had not been an idle one.

  Stefan informed Captain Andersson of their next destination as soon as
he boarded the yacht. Back in his suite, he opened the dossier he had been handed upon exiting the castle. It held various items, newspaper clippings, a small painting, various drawings of the necklace and directions to its current location. It was on display at the Guggenheim Museum in Boston, a low security location, but was scheduled to be moved to the west coast in a month’s time to a more secure local. No wonder the Council wanted it to taken now before it was moved even further away from where it belonged.

  He studied the clips that told about the origin of the necklace and why it was being displayed. There was no mention in any of the articles about the fact that Britain still claimed it as the property of the Crown. The Americans seemed blissfully ignorant of the fact that it was in the states illegally, according to the British. This would work to Stefan’s advantage. Stefan had approximately three weeks, the length of the crossing, to come up with a plan for its retrieval. It had to be foolproof and not involve the yacht or any of its inhabitants. Ideally, it should be safely hidden away in the Tower of London before the American authorities were any the wiser. The best time to snatch it would be right after it was locked away to be transported. Then he would have several days to transport it back to the Tower of London before the authorities were even aware that it was missing.

  Stefan took the small key that was included with the paperwork and opened a box that had been placed in the bottom of the briefcase he’d been given. He sucked in his breath when he saw what it was. It was an exact duplicate of the necklace. Undoubtedly it had been made of paste but included were instructions on how to tell it from the original. He held it up to the light, the metal work was impeccable, a very clever imitation indeed, but he could see that the sapphire stars reflected in the light were artificial. He hatched a plan, but it would unfortunately require Marjorie’s cooperation.

  He carefully laid out his plan: one of the guests at the reception shows up wearing an identical necklace, confusion reigns, a slight of hand and voila, the young lady walks out with the real thing. She would not be stopped, she’d walked in with the necklace. If questioned, she would explain that it was a very popular style in England.

  Unfortunately, he realized that he would not be able to keep Marjorie as his little one forever. It would soon be time to upgrade her to partner-in-crime.

  Chapter Nine

  Nanny Trinka was getting her little one ready to go up to the dining salon for dinner. This would be her first time eating with the grownups. Normally she was fed in the nursery in her high chair, wearing a bib. Margie was very anxious, her nanny had drilled her repeatedly about her manners. Nanny gave her one last going over, fluffing up the bow that was holding her blond curls off her face. The entire time, she lectured.

  “If you are asked to pass an item, pass it immediately without taking any for yourself.”

  “Curtsy to your papa as soon as you see him and then again when you leave. And also to anyone he may introduce you to.”

  “Be very careful, any spilt beverages or food on your pretty dress and you will be taken over my knee for a bare bottom spanking right then and there!”

  Margie’s eyes opened wide. She did not want to be spanked in front of everyone, especially her papa. He would be so very disappointed. Margie adored having a papa. Her papa loved her very much, he told her so every day. At night he would sometimes come to the nursery and hold her on his lap as he fed her a bottle. Once, he even rocked her until she fell asleep. She woke up the next day wishing that she could sleep all night with her papa in his big bed. She had never dared tell anyone that, though.

  Nanny led her out of the nursery and up the narrow stairs. She started to put her finger in her mouth but then stopped, anxious to be on her best behavior. As they entered the dining salon, she looked around with awe. Papa’s yacht was very fancy. The dining table was so very long that probably a hundred people could sit there and eat at the very same time. Margie began to get very excited.

  “Stop fidgeting!” her nanny scolded, “And remember, little ones are to be seen and not heard. Do not speak unless an adult asks you a question.”

  “Yes, Nanny,” Margie said, looking up at her fearfully. She stood there, not moving as the door swung open and in walked her papa, looking magnificent. She could not believe she belonged to such a man. She instantly dropped into a curtsy as his eyes lit upon her. Margie peeked fearfully up at him. He had a man with him who wore a uniform.

  “Captain Andersson, you have met Nanny Trinka and may I present my little girl, Margie.”

  “How do you do, little Margie,” Captain Andersson bent forward and said. Up close the little girl was even prettier than from afar. She appeared older than he’d originally guessed though, there was a maturity about her face that belied the age she presented as from afar. As he got a good look at her, he realized that the “child” was clearly closer to the age of twenty than the age of ten, despite her childish attire.

  She curtseyed to the captain, staying in position until her nanny nudged her to rise.

  “Shall we take our seats?” the captain suggested. “Margie, is this your first opportunity to join the adults for dinner?”

  “Yes, sir,” she squeaked.

  “I hope you remember your manners, little one,” her nanny warned, a very real threat in her voice.

  Margie flushed and looked down at her shoes. She couldn’t even bear the thought of being spanked before this distinguished gathering of gentlemen. They were now being joined by various ships officers. The gentlemen waited until Lord Cavendish and the two women were seated before they took their seats. Margie counted eight men at the table. She peeked shyly at the men. Most eyes seemed to be on Nanny Trinka, to Margie’s relief. She looked over at her nanny, she had gotten somewhat used to Trinka’s unusual personage. She was a beautiful woman in her own way, even with that metal plate that seemed to be consuming half her face. For the first time, Margie began to wonder about where she had come from and her unusual appearance. Surely she hadn’t been born that way?

  Margie looked down at her own clothing. She suddenly felt very embarrassed indeed. She looked like a little girl, these men actually thought of her as a child instead of a grown woman. She should be sitting with these distinguished gentlemen dressed in something fashionable and flattering instead of a little sailor dress. She began to flush with embarrassment.

  Her nanny cleared her throat and Margie realized she was being watched. There was a question in her nanny’s eyes which changed into a look of warning. She knew that Nanny Trinka was wondering what had distracted her. Margie sat up straight, her hands in her lap, suddenly on her best behavior. She would do anything to avoid a public chastisement.

  The doors opened and the servers began to bring the food. Each serving was exquisite, leaning heavily on fresh seafood. There were oysters and lobsters and some sort of a white fish, someone said it was shark, but it couldn’t be, could it? Margie tasted it carefully. It was most delicious. Margie was enjoying eating adult food very much. Although she longed for a glass of wine, instead was given a glass of water.

  Somewhere between the main entrée and the salad portion, Nanny Trinka’s mechanical hand snaked out and she knocked over her wine, all over Margie’s plate and dress. Little Margie had been so nervous about being clumsy herself that when her nanny erred, she couldn’t help it, she broke out in laughter. Once she started, she simply could not stop. She laughed until tears were rolling down her face. But then she realized that no one else was laughing. No one else was even smiling. Her papa stood and held out his hand to her and said simply.

  “Come with me, little one.”

  Margie looked up at him, horrified. She realized in an instant the degree of trouble that she was in. It had been most impolite to laugh at Nanny’s mechanical arm overshooting its mark. Stricken with shame, she rose, extremely embarrassed as everyone stopped eating and watched her. She put her little hand in her papa’s and walked with him out of the dining room. He led her down below deck, down through the cor
ridors to the big double doors. They entered the outer room and Margie stood there, chewing on her thumb nail as her papa dismissed his manservant. She stayed frozen in place, watching as Lord Cavendish removed his jacket and then pulled out a chair and sat it in the center of the room.

  “Come here, child,” he said to Margie, while looking most forbidding.

  Margie had begun to tremble. She looked at her papa fearfully and then slowly approached him. She couldn’t help it, “Am I in trouble?” she squeaked, although she knew it was probably better to remain silent.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so, little one. Do you know why?” he asked. Margie shook her head furiously, then looked down and bit her lower lip, tears of shame coming to her eyes.

  “It was most impolite to laugh at Nanny Trinka when her mechanical arm overshot its target. One does not laugh at the disabled.”

  “I know that, Papa, and I am truly sorry, really I am. It’s just that I was so very nervous because I did not want to make a mistake and be punished in the dining room in front of everyone. So when Nanny did just what she warned me not to do, I could not help but to laugh. I did not mean to be unkind.”

  Stefan felt himself becoming aroused at the notion of Margie receiving a public spanking in front of everyone at dinner but he knew he would never let that happen. Margie’s punishments were to be just between the two of them.

  “Nevertheless, little one, I am going to dispense a correction here and now to make sure that you understand the error of your ways. Now remove your clothing.”

  Margie looked at him, shocked. Surely he didn’t expect her to completely undress as he sat there watching? The silence grew as she stood there wondering what to do next. Finally she slowly began to remove her slippers and then her stockings. She reached up under her little dress and lowered her pantaloons until they were lying down around her ankles. She looked at him hopefully but he continued to watch her, waiting for more.