Our story began here.
Sylvia had discovered spanking novels and had sat devouring them one after another while ensconced in the window seat. Her chores for the day had been carried out under Mary’s tutelage, although the housekeeper seemed to have her mind elsewhere and had not picked up on any of Sylvia’s shortcomings.
The housekeeper’s lack of attention had not profited Tatiana any though as her current predicament would testify.
The maid was currently corseted to within an inch of her life and set on her knees on the floor. Her bottom was bare revealing a rather large and uncomfortable looking plug inserted between two highly welted and maroon coloured hindquarters.
Nor did her ordeal end there. Tatiana had been set the task of scrubbing the floors with a tooth brush which she periodically dipped into a mug of cleaning fluid. Every so often she had to crawl to the kitchen for fresh water and soap where Mary first spanked her before granting it.
This was the maid’s third day of such chores.
She had previously been required to sweep every floor in the house using only an incongruously and uncomfortably placed dustpan brush at one end and another fixed as a gag at the other.
“Don’t you think you are being a little… well OTT?” Sylvia had carefully ventured.
“Oh it could get worse couldn’t it my little Tatiana?” Mary said pointedly.
Tatiana nodded eagerly with eyes as big as plates, desperate that there wouldn’t be a demonstration.
“How… eh…?” Sylvia gaped, not finishing her question.
“I was once made to lick the floors clean,” Mary said with a shrug, “Some trainers can be merciless.”
“I know what you mean,” Sylvia replied in disbelief as she cast an arched look at the housekeeper, all the while thinking that given Tatiana’s current trials, floor-licking might not be preferable.
That had been two days before, now Sylvia barely noticed, absorbed as she was with her own fantasies concerning Gerald.
Turning the page she gobbled up the misadventures of one Kate in Regency England.
The inn had emptied somewhat on account of the hanging. In fact apart from the innkeeper, Kate and her ladies companion Emily, the only other patron was Lord Teacher the man who had had little to say to her for half the journey to London. And if the truth be told, the one man she wanted to speak to.
“Aren’t you going to the hanging my lord?” she simpered in his direction.
“Well patently not,” Lord Teacher replied, “And I am glad that you too avoid it. It is not a small thing or indeed something for childish eyes.”
“I am near 21-year-old,” Kate blustered, “I do not go to the hanging because…”
But Lord Teacher had already bowed to her and was moving away.
Emily had stifled a giggle but her mistress had looked apoplectic. Not that the erstwhile nobleman appeared to notice as he moved away to a table at the other end of better folk’s lounge.
“Oh to the devil with the man,” Kate said haughtily, “How dare he speak to me like that?”
Her outburst was well within Lord Teacher’s hearing as was intended, although he showed no sign of it.
“Doesn’t he know that it is rude to ignore a lady?” Kate said to her companion as she tried again.
“I am sure that he just didn’t hear you Miss Kate,” Emily said placatingly.
“I am sure that he did,” Kate snapped at her, “I think the man has a lack of breeding.”
Lord Teacher gave a heavy sigh and in a deliberation motion put the flagon of ale down on the table.
“I see that the ‘Lady’ has no manners,” Lord Teacher said sharply.
Kate brought her arms to a defiant fold and looked away with a pout.
“I think that perhaps I might teach her some,” Lord Teacher said crisply.
“You boorish oaf, are you really what passes for nobility in Derbyshire?” Kate countered.
“I see a lesson is in order,” Teacher sighed, “Madam, as you insist, I am going to paddle your tail.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Kate scoffed, abandoning her sulk and confronting the man with a glare.
“That is the third insult you have levelled at me, there will not be a third,” Lord Teacher said in a commanding voice.
In a trice he had strode across the room and seized the girl by the shoulders. In short order he had found a bench and upended her without ceremony.
“Emily, oh Emily, fetch the watch,” Kate shrieked.
But the shrieking only got louder as her skirts were raised by turns until the bare thighs and then denuded bottom was exposed to the young nobleman’s gaze.
“Your father should have done this long before now, but perhaps it is not too late to make an amendment,” Lord Teacher said in a firm voice.
Emily didn’t know whether to avert her eyes or laugh; so instead, as her mistress got the spanking of her life she gaped in wonder and imagined how it might be to be so handled by a man.
“Oh gosh,” Sylvia sighed as she hastily turned the page.
“What was that Ma’am?” Tatiana said miserably from the floor, not daring to overlook the least wish of her betters that day.
“Oh nothing,” Sylvia dismissed her.
*
The mysteries of the cellar now open to her, Sylvia had watched from the door as Tatiana was secured in place for an evening of more torment.
The enema regime had been instructive, although Sylvia’s buttocks had clenched in sympathy. Now Mary had set about polishing the miscreant maid’s bottom with an emery-sided strap that not only put the maid’s eyes out on stalks as it imparted its burning sting, but left the skin of her behind an almost impossible red that glistened with the stringent oil to lubricate the punishing strap.
Tatiana tried to endure but after only a minute or two began to sob and beg for a reprieve.
“You have a particular phrase for me?” Mary asked the wailing girl.
Tatiana was panting hard as tears tumbled down her cheeks, she could scarcely get her breath. Mary waited.
“No Ma’am,” Tatiana said at last in ragged bursts.
Mary grinned and the punishment begun again.
“Is Tatiana the only… I mean…” Sylvia swallowed as she struggled with the question.
“Would I ever bring you down here you mean?” Mary smirked as she mopped her brow mid swat.
“Or would Gerald?” she pressed with her real question.
“I think that all this and more is your destiny, don’t you think?” Mary replied.
Sylvia blushed.
“Why… why do we…?”
“Submit? Want to submit?” For Mary it was the same question.
The housekeeper plied the strap crossways and then down the cleft of Tatiana’s bottom, the girl responded by clamping her jaw tight and issuing a low groan. Her face was puce and so wet it was impossible to tell tears from sweat. A true Churchillian, Mary congratulated herself, one of the holy grails of spankmanship.
“Why? Why do you think?” Mary paused and shot a glance at Sylvia.
“I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “Weeks ago I would have… oh Mary, I am lost and don’t ever want to be found.”
“Not even by Gerald?”
“Maybe,” Sylvia admitted. “Don’t you want someone?”
“Oh yes,” Mary said sharply, but her eyes were as steel again and the hapless maid was about to benefit from her newfound zeal.
To be continued.
