Our story began here.
Dear Gerald, it was a good beginning to a letter, accurate and straight to the point. However Sylvia could not think what to put next.
Looking up she saw Tatiana on her knees on the lawn. It must be tiresome to have to cut the grass using only nail clippers, but after last night’s ordeal Tatiana must be finding it something of a reprieve.
Sylvia shifted in the window seat and squeezed her thighs together and not for the first time that morning. The thought of what Mary had done to the maid last night had so filled her brain that Sylvia was still fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep.
To so utterly submit like that… her heart lurched and she thought of Gerald. Tatiana’s ordeal had been totally degrading, painful, uncomfortable, humiliating and so much more, but despite some guilt, Sylvia had loved it. Yet the surprising thing was that when she had finally gone back to her room in the vain hope of slumber, looking in her mirror her eyes had carried the same wanton look she had seen in Tatiana’s eyes. Further, when she had tried to sleep her hands had kept straying as she run the events in the cellar over and over in her mind, but in her fevered dreams it was not the Russian maid who suffered but herself; and her tormentor was Gerald.
Sylvia glanced again at Tatiana on her knees in a harness. Her denuded bottom was sticking up in the most obscene way, the forward part of her body slumped into the grass as she worked at snipping green blades. The girl’s tongue protruded slightly from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on her task; almost eager was the maid to please Mary.
Sylvia cast her over the girl’s up thrust curves, astonished at how deeply and almost translucently red her skin was, it looked positively raw and not just there. Sylvia blushed to look at more delicate areas. Would Gerald ever make me do that? She fanned her face with her unwritten letter at the thought. What if someone came and saw her? She shifted in the window seat again and squeezed her thighs together.
Dear Gerald,
I miss you and I cannot believe how much time we have wasted. No, that is not fair; it is I who has wasted time.
That is just one of the many crimes for which I must be severely punished. No that is not enough either. I must be very severely punished and in any way and for as long as you deem necessary.
It goes without saying that you must put me across your knee and spank my bottom until it is very, very sore and I have a good cry. Then you will put me in the corner like a bad girl for ever such a long time. But then this would not be punishment as such, but only your just due and I must expect that at your whim whenever you require it of me.
No, I dare say the strap, cane and birch is my fate for a true punishment, but does that count as severe, or even very severe? Given my crimes, probably not, but that is for you to decide.
Tatiana has been very naughty too, but she at least is being properly punished. The other night she was secured in the cellar after a jolly good thrashing and then left there with an awful thing in her bottom. She did deserve it I suppose, but it must have been awful to be alone so in the gloom never knowing when your mistress will return to punish you more.
But I want you to know that if you wish it I will endure the same and much more if you will it.
For too long I have been too proud with very little to be proud about. And I do want you to be proud of me. For this too I must be punished, I shudder when I think of how you might tame and humble me. Perhaps you will do something like put me across your knee and spank my bare bottom in front of those hunt people. I would truly hate that, but it would do me good; especially if you made me stand in the corner afterwards with my naked red behind on show while people had lunch or something.
But there I go again telling you how to punish me. All this is for you to decide.
I love you and I am utterly yours.
Obediently, submissively and very sincerely,
Sylvia
There, Sylvia thought emphatically, that ought to do it. Then rereading her letter she blushed and squirmed not quite believing that she had written it and so very glad she had. She thought of going to her room, but then she decided that any such thing would be shameless and from now on entirely at her husband’s whim.
“Oh God,” she groaned, lost in excitement even at these thoughts.
*
It was three days later and Sylvia dined alone with Mary standing vigil by the door in the role normally reserved for Tatiana. The reason the maid was not serving in this capacity was that the house keeper had assigned her another task.
At first Sylvia had been shocked on entering the room as Tatiana was kneeling on a chair bent right over the back with her freshly strapped bottom upper most. But it was not the fresh shiny red stain that was so shocking; Sylvia had not seen the maid with a white behind in days. It was the candle that was inserted so neatly between the maid’s proffered cheeks that made her gasp.
Tatiana was facing the table, her face utterly miserable and a heavy paddle-taws device clenched in her teeth.
“That is for after,” Mary told Sylvia in answer to an unspoken question on the latter’s face. “And only if she is good. If she lets the candle go out or makes it flutter from undue movement then she will be more severely punished.”
Sylvia swallowed.
“I see,” she said, and thought ruefully about another sleepless night. Will these distractions never end? She thought, but did she really want them too?
“There is a letter for you, I regret that Tatiana being otherwise occupied it… was overlooked at breakfast,” Mary said impassively.
If Mary felt at all responsible for a late delivery of a letter then it did not show on her face. Seeing that the letter was from Gerald, Sylvia was suddenly annoyed, but was not ready to confront the house keeper, although someone should, she thought.
In any case, she was too eager to read the missive than to dwell on the others. She tore at it and pulled the single blue-masculine sheet from the Basildon Bond envelope.
Dear Sylvia,
Do not reproach yourself so. True you are not all that you might be and if you wish to explore being a No-thing for a while, then we may consider that – it can be very therapeutic. But you are so much more and although I am grateful for your submission and welcome it, I think there is little to be gained from fruitless recriminations about our past and that we should look instead to the future.
That said, when I see you, I will most definitely put you across my knee for a sound spanking on the bare bottom for your impious suggestions. But I most certainly won’t be doing it in front of the hunt. Not on this occasion anyway.
I love you and be assured we will be together soon.
There was one other matter that you raised that gives me cause for disquiet. Have no fear it does not concern you directly or us in general, but it must be attended to.
To this end Mr Drake will be calling and in this regard he has my full authority and it would please me if you cooperated.
Ever yours,
Gerald
p.s. Do not speak of the Spankman or the contents of this letter with Mary.
Sylvia clutched the paper to her thundering breast. Strangely it was the spanking threat that thrilled her most, but also the fact that she was in on a secret that Mary was not party to. Whatever did Drake want and what had happened?
To be continued.
