Hall of Infamy (13 page)

‘Answer me, boy. Do you realise that you stink?'

‘Ow! Yes, ma'am.' He gasped as she twisted his nipples viciously between her crimson talons.

‘Sweat, stale spunk and horse-shit, you dirty masturbating boy – you stink of shit!'

Davy was trembling now, panic growing, but then she released his nipples and reached down around his waist to unbuckle his belt.

‘No!'

‘What's the matter, boy? Don't you want Kitty to see?' Lady Alicia undid his breeches and pulled them down to his knees. ‘I thought she already had. Kitty, look, what a pretty bottom!'

Davy's face burnt. He was shamefully exposed.

‘What's this, boy? Don't tell me you have the gall to entertain impure thoughts even here, in my very bed-chamber?' Lady Alicia took the stable-lad's erect cock between her nails, digging in until he moaned with pain. ‘Kitty, fetch me a cane!' She put her lips to his ear again, gouging his rigid member with her nails as she whispered, ‘I'm going to thrash you now, boy. I'm going to cane you till you cry. I'm going to beat you until you beg for mercy.'

Davy took a deep breath when she released him to take the rod, swearing to himself that she would never hear him beg. He was no coward, nor was he unacquainted with the rod. Yet as she slashed the long cane through the air with an ominous
whoosh
, his whole body tensed. His cock and balls had felt so vulnerable to her talons, he wondered if there was any limit to what this terrifying creature might decide to do.

Finally the cane fell, slicing across his bottom with a sickening
thwack
. A hiss of pure pain escaped from between Davy's gritted teeth. As the waves of pain slowly subsided he tensed himself for the next stroke. But Lady Alicia was in no hurry, content to let the agony from the first cut slowly fade.

‘Stop sniggering Kitty, unless you want the same! Go and fetch the harness, then get that uniform off.' He heard the cane
whoosh
through the air again, the sound making his stomach clench so hard it hurt, but no impact followed. Only after several preparatory swishes, each one ratcheting his nerves to screaming pitch, did she finally lash into him again.

Afterward, Davy could not have said how long the thrashing lasted, nor how many strokes his bottom and thighs received. Lady Alicia beat him leisurely, with long pauses between each stroke, but she was pitiless and her arm was strong. She whipped his bottom and the backs of his thighs, working down until the cane cracked across his legs a little above the knees. Then she worked up again, taking no pains to avoid striking the crimson marks of previous strokes.

When she reached the tops of his buttocks, Davy waited in apprehension as his tormentor took a break to refresh herself with tea and cake. Then the strokes started again, over cheeks already beaten to redness. Soon after she resumed the torment, Davy heard himself beg. Begging quickly turned to pleading for mercy, and pleading to howling helplessly as the cane came down again and again.

Lady Alicia released him herself, cooing insincere condolences to the sobbing boy. Davy slumped to his knees and found his face pulled into the black silk of his mistress's drawers. The sweet sensations of warm silk and perfume vied with the dreadful throbbing in his hindquarters, creating a state of mind close to delirium. Lady Alicia stroked his neck firmly, pulling his face into her crotch.

‘There now, boy, your whipping's over. You can stop crying now.' She caressed him as the pain slowly subsided. Davy felt foolish yet wildly excited. Trembling with anticipation, he nuzzled her warm flesh through the warm silk which blotted out his vision.

‘We have another treat before you go, my lad.'

Something in her tone made him suddenly fearful. She grabbed an ear and pulled his face out of her crotch, forcing his head round. Kitty was behind him. The maid had taken off her uniform and wore only a long black satin corset and stockings. The gorgeous sight of her full breasts and creamy thighs caused Davy's stiff cock to twitch.

Then he saw it and his blood ran cold.

Kitty had buckled a harness of leather straps around her midriff. She was smiling down at him, fondling an obscene black strap-on cock.

Icy fingers of pure terror gripped Davy's heart. Lady Alicia's talons closed vice-tight in his hair as Kitty moved towards him.

‘Oh… please no…' The rubber cock slapped hard against his face as the women's laughter pealed around the bed-chamber.

‘I do not permit self-abuse, my boy, for I feel it is such a waste!' Lady Alicia yanked his head back until he had to look into her pitiless eyes. She bent and he felt her finger run down the furrow between his bottom-cheeks, then probe. Davy's sphincter clamped convulsively around the penetrating digit. He heard her throaty chuckle once again.

‘Hm, he's very tight. I think we had better send to the stables for some saddle-soap.' Davy whimpered despairingly as his mistress smiled down at him. ‘Don't worry, boy, I'll see to it that the other grooms know what we intend to use it for.'

‘I say, aren't the meadows looking splendid!' Jamie slashed his whip through the air, neatly decapitating a buttercup. Amelia's bottom tensed in automatic response to the hiss of the crop, and she sensed Clara flinch beside her.

There was certainly truth in his observation. The meadows on the far side of the ornamental lake were ablaze with wild flowers. Golden buttercups vied for attention with crimson poppies, while mauve vetchlings and the creamy froth of meadowsweet provided a palette of subtler colours. Not that Amelia was in any mood to appreciate the scene.

For one thing, the soft sward was difficult to walk across in the precariously high heels of her button-boots. For another, the little smock and frilly knickers, so humiliating in the nursery, were even more mortifying out here in the open air. Anyone might see her here: gardeners, estate workers, and stable-boys.

Amelia's cheeks burned anew as she remembered the cat-calls that had followed the cousins as they tottered across the cobbles of the courtyard. The knowledge that she would have to return, probably passing the stable-block again, squatted like a stone in her stomach.

Then there was the fact that the mission they were on was far from cheering. Betsy bustled along behind Jamie and the cousins, laden down with trugs and secateurs. One glance at the maid's burden reminded Amelia of the task they were intent on.

Jamie had announced the expedition after luncheon. ‘We need to put up some birches for you girls. It's not the best time, as they are in leaf, but that cannot be helped. It looks like a lovely afternoon. What do you say, girls – shall we go up to the groves and cut some switches?'

‘Yes, sir,' Clara had said softly, after a moment's hesitation. Amelia had nearly slapped the silly little bitch.

‘Amelia, you don't seem keen. Have you another plan, perhaps? Were you hoping to pay a visit to the Reverend Dawes, for instance?'

The very mention of the name had made her face go red. The jovial suggestion filled Amelia with utter dismay.

‘No… please,' she had said quickly, terrified now that he would send her, on some pretext or other, to the rector.

‘So you would rather come with Clara and me to cut birches?'

‘Oh, very well, I suppose.'

‘Amelia!' Jamie's expression had decided her to re-phrase.

‘Yes… please… sir,' she had said, forcing the words out one by one.

‘Jolly good.' Jamie had given her bottom a friendly squeeze. ‘I'm sure we will have a lovely afternoon.'

The little party strolled on in the warm afternoon sun, through the meadow, and then to the park beyond. Herds of graceful fallow deer moved off as they approached, disappearing into the dappled shade of the oaks that fringed the pasture.

‘I say, look,' Jamie pointed with his switch, ‘there's Lord Alex, exercising his new filly!'

Amelia stared, astonished. A well-maintained drive cut through the deer park, some way from their party. Along this a tall girl was running, pulling a little sulky in which Amelia could just make out the well-built frame of Lord Alex, enthusiastically waving a whip.

‘But—' Amelia blurted, ‘—she's completely naked!'

Jamie put his head back and laughed heartily. ‘What would you have a pony wear, you silly girl? Anyway, she's hardly naked; she's in harness.'

Lord Alex must have spotted them, for he raised his carriage-whip in greeting before returning to his work. Jamie returned the salute with his own whip.

‘Great heavens,' Jamie murmured as they stood and watched. ‘Well, he did say he had found himself a thoroughbred filly.'

The naked girl ran a hundred yards or so, her long legs seemingly eating up the pathway, despite the fact that she was hauling Lord Alex's weight. Then she was pulled up and made to turn before being galloped back in the other direction. This time, they could hear Lord Alex urging her on.

‘Gee up, go on! That's it, faster! Faster!' His voice could be heard clearly across the park, despite the distance. Amelia could also hear his whip crack as he used it to urge his mount to greater efforts. It seemed to be mostly for show; cracking to either side of the straining girl in warning.

Not all the lashes were so benign, however. There was a crack that could only have been the sound of leather upon flesh, and the girl gave a cry of pain which her bit could not completely muffle. The stroke made her stumble and sway between the shafts and, for a moment, it looked as if the sulky might go over.

‘Tsk, tsk – now she'll get it,' murmured Jamie. ‘She will have to learn to take those encouraging kisses in her stride, if I know Lord Alex.'

The driver pulled his mount up. Amelia could not hear the words, only the sharp tone of Lord Alex's voice, but she understood the language of the whip well enough. Three stinging strokes were laid across the pony-girl's naked back and Amelia flinched in sympathy. Lord Alex gave his mount no respite, but turned her, and once again the tall girl cantered off along the drive.

‘Well, girls,' Jamie said as he followed the sulky's progress, ‘pleasant as this is to watch, we do have work to do.'

The young man led the girls on through a gate which gave onto a pretty woodland ride. Almost at once, the pathway began to climb steeply through the woods. The trees lining the woodland ride on

either side were mostly oak, though hornbeam soon became more common.

‘It is a remarkable estate still, is it not?' Jamie said, waving at the woods. ‘All this is still within the walls. Of course, it used to be truly vast in the old days.'

Amelia concentrated on keeping her balance. The path was a rough farm track. The sun-baked clay that had given some solid footing for her heels was rapidly becoming sandy. Glancing round, she noticed that silver-barked birch trees had begun to make an appearance, lining the pathway. Amelia had always loved the delicate grace of the birch, but today their beauty gave her no pleasure. Instead they seemed ominous and tainted.

‘One wonders how long these groves have been maintained,' Jamie mused as they followed the path upward. He led them from the main path. It was brighter here, for the birch foliage was light, the trees were small, and the afternoon sun was shining. The woods were full of birdsong, but for all this the place seemed terrible to Amelia. Just as in the Whippery, the very brightness of the groves only increased their sense of menace.

The birches here seemed to be shrubs rather than trees, for the most part consisting of regular-sized evenly spaced bushes. Jamie instructed the cousins and the maid to take a trug and pair of secateurs each. Then he led Amelia to one thicket of birch.

‘These are coppiced so we can reach the shoots,' he explained. ‘Not usually a long-lived tree, the birch, but these beauties are ancient. The coppicing lengthens their lives.' He pulled a long limb free and indicated for Amelia to snip it off. ‘It makes you wonder, doesn't it—' his face was rapt ‘—how many birch rods has this old stool provided for Hope Hall?'

Amelia cut the next bough that he indicated and placed it in the trug.

‘It must be hundreds, anyway,' Jamie continued. As he imparted this cheering information, he patted Amelia on her behind. ‘Think about all those well-flogged bottoms while you are cutting.'

‘Easy girl, easy. That's it, good girl, Blossom. Looks like you've had a good run. Time to rub you down, now.' The stable-boy led her back into the same stall in which she had passed a restive night. There he began unbuckling the harness of brown leather straps, which was all she wore.

‘Whoa, whoa, easy, girl.'

Blossom swayed, her legs like jelly, as the last part of the harness came off. He steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

‘The master worked you hard this afternoon, eh?' He gave her a smile as he perused her naked body, gently touching one of the welts which Lord Alex's driving-whip had left across her back. Guiding her down onto her knees, he unbuckled the bridle and eased out the bit. She gave a little sob of relief.

‘Just rest easy there, Blossom, girl.'