Back in Service (14 page)

‘And did the curate consent?’

‘Not initially. He said it would be the first time he had beaten anyone, let alone a young woman. But I could see he was inordinately excited by the idea. Bob said he usually made use of an implement, a rod or a broom, to punish his wife, but in this case he felt the curate’s own hand would be most efficacious, provided that same hand were used upon the woman’s bare flesh. The curate started at this and began to protest, but Bob overruled him.’

‘Really? How?’

‘By threatening to beat her himself with a forged iron rod. At this, the curate jumped to his feet in horror. “Oh no, you could not be so savage”, he cried. “Then do the deed yourself, sir”, Bob insisted, and seeing himself cornered, the curate reluctantly agreed and Bob bade his wife prepare herself.’

‘How did she seem?’

‘Excited, one might almost say thrilled, at the prospect of physical contact between the curate’s lily- white hand and her own fair fundament. She bent over the stool as she had many times before, and willingly lifted her skirt and pushed down her bloomers. The curate approached her nervously, his gaze fixed on the two pale globes of her bottom. I must say they looked very inviting, utterly smooth and unblemished. Her buttocks were round and firm, and she was lying with her thighs slightly open so you could see the slit purse of her sex quite clearly. I think it was her pussy rather than her arse that drew the man’s fascinated gaze. I am sure it was the first time he had seen such a sight.’

‘Indeed, I should hope so, considering his calling.’

‘You could have cut the atmosphere in that parlour with a knife. Bob was grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of viewing his wife’s punishment at another man’s hands, but I began to doubt whether the curate was man enough for the job. He was trembling and exceedingly pale, yet he raised his right hand and managed to give the woman a gentle slap across her nether cheeks.’

‘Was that the best he could do?’

‘You might call it an experimental smack. Bob urged him on, and the second blow rang out as the flat of his hand met her unprotected flesh full on. Louise gave a deep sigh of satisfaction, as if she was being kissed or caressed rather than punished, and that seemed to encourage the curate because he started spanking her repeatedly, apparently revelling in the sharp, clean sounds. She responded by writhing and moaning in a way more suggestive of extreme pleasure than pain. I tell you, I was astonished by the spectacle.’

‘How many of the curate’s slaps did she receive?’

‘I lost count. There was no stopping him once he got started. He was clearly enjoying himself, and she was too, spreading her thighs so as to display more of her pouting nether lips, which I could see were getting quite wet.’

‘The little minx. But how did it all end?’

‘Bob finally announced she had been punished enough.’

Leo sighed. ‘Thank you, George, that was a charming tale.’ He drew out his pocket watch and frowned when he saw the time. ‘But I am parched and want my tea. Where is that tardy serving maid? It is already five past five. If she is much later we might have to punish the girl for her poor timekeeping. What say you, George?’

A few minutes later there was a tentative knock at the door. Hetty smiled and made an effort to compose herself as Leo called imperiously, ‘Come in!’

Jane entered bearing the tea tray and wearing a deeply apologetic look on her face. ‘I am so sorry to be late, sir. Nanny Baines caught me in the hallway and asked where I was taking the tray. I told her to the summerhouse and she gave me a strange look. She wanted to know who had ordered it.’

‘And did you tell her?’ Leo asked, sounding amused.

‘Yes, I said Mrs Carstairs, and she let me go.’

‘Capital.’ He laughed and looked at Hetty. ‘She will assume the girl meant Lady Alice.’ But then his demeanour grew sober. ‘I forgive your lateness on this occasion, Jane, since you were obliged to answer Nanny Baines’s questions, but do not make a habit of it or…’ He winked at George. ‘Or we might have to devise some suitable punishment.’

Jane said nothing, but merely set the tray down on an occasional table nearby. As she did so, Hetty saw her eyes flit to the decorated screen. She took in the obscene images at a glance, blushed to the roots of her hair, and hid her confusion by pouring out the tea.

‘Will you take lemon, sir, or milk and sugar?’ she queried, looking at Hetty.

For one breathless moment, Hetty stared back daring the girl to recognise her, but her disguise held; Jane’s eyes showed no glimmer of recognition. In her gruffest voice, Hetty replied she would take milk but no sugar.

‘This is the room Sir Victor once used to entertain his guests,’ Leo informed the girl in a more friendly tone. ‘It has fallen into disrepair, so I am having it done up. This young gentleman is George Addleston, my wife’s brother.’

‘Oh?’ Jane nearly dropped the teapot in surprise. She set it down carefully, and gave a deep curtsey.

‘Did you not see a family resemblance?’ Leo asked, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

Jane met Hetty’s gaze. ‘Oh yes, sir, now you mention it, there
is
a distinct likeness.’

‘My sister speaks very well of you,’ Hetty could not resist commenting.

‘Thank you, sir, she has been very kind to me.’

‘You may leave us now,’ Leo told her, perhaps fearing that if the pair became too familiar the game would be up. ‘Do not worry about collecting the tray, we shall bring it back to the house with us and leave it in the hall.’

‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’ She dropped another curtsey, but before she left her glance sped around the room and took in the cupboard, which held various rods, whips, shackles and blindfolds.

‘Now she is gone, we may feast our eyes on some of my father’s book collection,’ Leo suggested, setting down his teacup. ‘You are interested in art, George, are you not? Move that tray and set it on the floor, will you? We shall need that table.’ He brought a couple of large volumes over and put them down on the low table. ‘I do not believe you have seen this one,’ he said, opening to the title page.

The book was called
The School of Hard Knocks
. Inside were scenes of public school life, each one involving a flogging of some kind. Some illustrations showed younger boys being caned by older ones, while one depicted a fearsome matron reminiscent of Nanny Baines wielding a rod over the backside of some miscreant. But there were a couple of illustrations towards the end showing the headmaster inflicting corporal punishment upon a young woman.

‘Ah… how this puts me in mind of my own schooldays,’ Leo sighed. ‘Sometimes, George, I feel quite an itch in the seat of my pants and I long for someone like Crabtree, my old idol, to inflict similar punishment upon me.’

Hetty recognised her cue. ‘Perhaps I could provide that service for you, Leo? I am no handsome hero like your head boy, but I
am
capable of wielding a rod and a cane.’

‘Really?’ He managed to sound both surprised and grateful at the same time. ‘Would you really do that for me, dear George?’

‘Absolutely. I understand the attraction of such rituals perfectly, having witnessed them many times. What would you have me use as an instrument?’

‘Come over here.’ Leo strode to the cupboard and flung open the double doors. Inside, the implements were neatly stored – whips, straps, flails, cuffs and blindfolds hung from hooks while cricket bats, cudgels, truncheons and rods were neatly stacked in the corners. ‘Make your own choice,’ he said.

Hetty surveyed the selections open to her, and finally reached for the cricket bat. She wielded it experimentally, grasping the handle with both hands.

‘Come over here, George,’ Leo urged, ‘where I may lean over the arm of the sofa, and give me what for.’ He lifted his coattails and bent over, arranging his tackle in a comfortable position and hugging a cushion in his arms. ‘Now, do your worst.’

Hetty promptly gave him a great whack on the arse that nearly propelled his body onto the sofa. At the second blow he gave a low moan, and she was about to deliver a third whack when she heard a knock on the door and turned around, the bat lifted in mid-air.

‘Who the devil can that be?’ Leo demanded.

The door opened a few inches and Jane’s face and hands appeared. ‘Excuse me, sir, but I forgot to bring the seed cake…’ Her eyes grew round with amazement as the sliced cake slid off the plate she was holding, and she stepped into the room and scooped up the crumbs in confusion, muttering, ‘I am so sorry, sir, so sorry, I did not mean to intrude, please forgive me… I beg pardon, gentlemen…’ She made a hasty exit.

‘Confound the creature!’ Leo bellowed, pushing himself off the couch and rearranging his coattails. ‘Does she not know to wait before entering?’ He rushed to the door and Hetty feared the worst, but running to his side she peered over his shoulder and saw Jane racing across the grass towards the house with the crumb-laden plate in her hands.

‘She meant no harm,’ she assured him. ‘When you responded, she must have taken it as a signal to enter. She had no idea what was going on.’

‘How much do you think she saw?’ he asked worriedly.

‘Not much, she probably thought I was merely demonstrating my batting swing. At least you still had your trousers on.’

‘Thank
God
. George, can we trust that wench to be discreet?’

‘I am sure we can. She does not strike me as the kind to gossip.’

‘I hope you are right. But I shall return to the house now. I am in no mood to continue after that interruption, and I expect you will want to see your sister before you go.’

But it was Jane Hetty really wanted to see. Leo left her alone in the summerhouse to change back into her own clothes, and when she finally emerged it was growing dark. She hurried back to the imposing haven of Longton Hall, where faint lights were beginning to glow through the mullioned windows, but instead of going straight to her own apartments she made for Lady Alice’s room, where she hoped to find her personal maid.

She was in luck. While the mistress of the house was with her husband, Jane was busy laying out the evening gown and jewellery Alice would be wearing for dinner.

‘Oh Hetty,’ she exclaimed, ‘I have met your brother!’

‘You have met George?’

‘Yes, and what a fine young gentleman he is. He was in conversation with your husband in the summerhouse and I had to wait on them for tea, only…’

She moved closer. ‘What is it, Jane?’ She touched the girl’s arm to encourage her to speak.

‘I am afraid I did not make a good impression. I was late, for one thing, although I explained it was not my fault since Nanny Baines detained me, and when I returned with some cake I had forgotten I… oh dear. The gentlemen startled me and I dropped the cake on the floor and I was so embarrassed I ran away. Dear Hetty, do you think your brother will think ill of me? I should hate that, for he seemed such a charming young man.’

Hetty studied Jane’s flushed cheeks and her beautiful eyes, which resembled sapphires they were so feverishly bright, and the impossible thought struck her that the girl had developed a crush on George. Then a few moments’ reflection convinced her this was not so impossible after all. There were few eligible young males at Longton and Jane was of an age to dream of romance, but how delightfully ironic she should fall for the spitting image of her closest friend. ‘I am so glad you took a liking to my brother,’ she began, deciding to test her theory. ‘George is a dear friend of Leo’s, you know. I should like us all to get along together. Do not worry about your mishap. I shall speak to my husband and brother, singing your praises, and I can promise there shall be no bad report of you. Tell me, though, did you find dear George a manly sort of man, the kind who might win a maiden’s heart? I should so like to see him settled with someone like you, Jane.’

Now her eyes shone with a piercing light. ‘You would?’ she breathed.

‘Of course, he deserves someone sweet and kind like you. I am sure you made a good impression on him.’

‘He… he is quite a sportsman, is he not?’

Hetty could hardly stifle a giggle. ‘Oh yes, he is a fine cricketer and excellent at rowing, too.’ But there was no time to expand on the virtues of her fictional brother because Lady Alice returned and required dressing for dinner. Hetty went to her room to do likewise, but suddenly the door was flung open.

Leo appeared, flushed and breathless. ‘My dear wife,’ he clasped her to his chest, ‘your brother has been telling me such tales in the summerhouse that I can hardly contain myself now. Please, unlace your corset and let me gaze upon your twin beauties.’

She willingly unlaced her corset, and he grasped her breasts hungrily while kissing her passionately on the lips. She could feel his groin pressed hard against her belly and knew he was aroused, but there were only a few minutes before the dinner bell was due to sound. She began protesting that Sir Victor had invited guests that evening, but he smothered her mouth with more kisses and hiked up her petticoat with one hand while unbuttoning his fly with the other.

‘Lower your drawers, woman,’ he commanded.

She did as he told her, and his cock thrust into her unceremoniously. The force of his penetration caused her to fall back across the bed as he knelt over her, sliding vigorously in and out of her, and she was delighted to feel the smooth working of his prick caressing her inner flesh and stimulating her sensitive sex lips. He pinched one of her nipples hard and she felt her desire for him soaring to new heights, engendering a longing that could only be assuaged by total satisfaction. She squeezed his solid member encouragingly and felt the rippling beginnings of a climax; a delicious warm glow heralding a blaze of glory. And just as the final dinner bell reverberated through the house, she felt a blinding wave of fulfilment sweep through them both with inexorable force and they climaxed together, clinging to each other as a rush of pure joy engulfed them. Then they lay spent and still as flotsam on the comfortable shore of their matrimonial bed.

‘We shall be late for dinner,’ she said at last, sitting up.

‘And how tongues will wag,’ he remarked with a satisfied smile. ‘You will have your wanton mood written all over your lovely face, I dare say.’

‘Help me with my clothes,’ she begged.

He fumbled with her laces and buttons while she secured the stray wisps of her coiffure and eventually judged herself presentable.

As they walked down the main staircase, she could sense the eyes of the servants on them, and the knowledge they were being regarded somewhat scandalously sent a delicious thrill through her pleasantly warm pussy.

In the dining room, Lady Alice and the guests were assembled standing behind their chairs, with the exception of Sir Victor, who sat in his wheelchair at the head of the table with Baines looming behind him. All eyes fell on the young couple as they entered arm in arm and Hetty blushed, but held her head high as Leo made their excuses in a bold and somewhat casual manner. ‘Our apologies for being late, but my wife had an attack of the vapours. She is quite well now, however.’

Nanny Baines glared at them down the length of the table and Sir Victor coughed peevishly. ‘I suppose we must excuse you on this occasion,’ he said. ‘But you know how I detest keeping my guests waiting.’

‘I am sorry father, mother,’ Leo replied smoothly, bowing to each in turn.

Everyone sat down and there was a parson present who said grace, then the meal commenced. As usual, Lady Alice had her old friend Lady Cosham for company together with her vapid spinster daughter, and glancing at the other four male guests, Hetty thought she recognised them from the old days.

There was the hateful Mr Reid, with his waxed moustache and beady eyes, she had once seen cruelly whip a young woman in the summerhouse. Another gentleman was addressed as Sir Anthony and more than once she watched him, cat in hand, striking a pair of fair young buttocks with sadistic abandon. Memories returned with demonic power, tormenting her so she could scarcely manage to sip her mock turtle soup.

The remains of the first course were whisked away, and a flurry of activity behind the table announced the second course was about to be served. She noticed Jane amongst the staff and gave her an encouraging smile, but as she watched the girl serve Sir Victor some oyster patties, Hetty saw her grimace. The look Jane gave her afterwards spoke volumes, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the old rogue had taken some liberty with her person beneath the cover of the white damask tablecloth. ‘The beast,’ she muttered beneath her breath.