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A servant and MistressPart I — ArrivalI arrived at the DeMarcco mansion in late August. Summer was alreadyfading into fall as winter comes early in such a northern province. Ifound the castle cold and dark and foreboding, despite the presence ofthe Master, who was young and handsome and extremely wealthy. He and hispretty bride were renowned for their lavish parties and generosity, andanyone in the country, including the Duke of Kennington, was alwayspleased to receive an invitation.I viewed my change of employers as a tremendous advancement, for arecommendation by the DeMarcco’s would secure me a position anywhere Iwanted. I felt eminently grateful to dear Molly Wells for recommendingme, our c***dhood disagreements forgotten and forgiven with this singlegenerous gesture. Had I known the true nature of her generosity,however, I would have rewarded her face with a slap from my palm.On just the third day in my new position I had the opportunity towitness for myself the situation I had instilled myself into. It was acold, blustery morning, with a touch of fog settling over the hills. Ihad started a fire in the kitchen before dawn and was helping the cookprepare the breakfast when I heard a shriek of pain and horribly angryvoice shouting.I glanced at the cook but she continued her work unabated, and I lookednervously behind me as the sounds came closer. The door burst open andto my surprise it was the Mistress herself who entered, her sleepinggarments covered with a thick robe, cruelly dragging a weeping,red-faced girl by the earlobe. I recognized the girl as one of thechambermaids, Mary, by name. She was rather vapid and dense, if Irecalled her correctly, and smitten with one of the groomsmen.The Mistress strode angrily into the kitchen and ordered the cook tofetch her “the strap and be quick about it!” The cook obeyed instantly,heading across the room, while the pitiful girl began to wail and begfor mercy.”Shut your mouth you lazy whore!” scolded the petite lady, her blackeyes flashing brightly with arrogance and fury. “How dare you enter yourMistress’ quarters without knocking!””But I _did_ knock, Ma’am,” sobbed the girl. “I knocked three times,and loudly, too, you _must_ ‘ave ‘eard!””The impertinence!” screamed the Mistress, her mouth shaping into asnarl that distorted her graceful lips into something quite repulsive.”How dare you call me a liar! You shall get the cane for that! Cook!Bring me the cane instead of the strap! This sorry thing needs a tasteof real discipline.”The cook obeyed, replacing the just removed strap back on its hook andreturning with a long, white, crock-handled cane, slightly bent fromyears of use. I watched, petrified with terror, as the cook handed thisterrible instrument of punishment to the furious lady who took it in herhands with a look of relish that frightened me beyond motion or thought.I’d never been beaten by an employer before, though I knew it was anaccepted practice. My last Master had been an old gentleman in Furth,and while once, when I was much younger and wilder, he had he threatenedme with a dose of the leather, I had never given him cause to use it. AsI c***d, of course, I’d had my share of whippings, and I had seenc***dren in school take the cane, it had always frightened me beyondbelief. I watched helplessly as the Mistress took the weeping girl andbodily shoved her across a counter and lifted the girl’s skirts up andtook down her knickers.The caning was mercifully brief but unendurably cruel. The Mistressmust have delivered a dozen cuts across the backs of poor Mary’s legsand half that again across her bared bum. None drew blood but many cameclose, leaving huge red weals that looked fit to burst at any moment.”Now go stand in the parlor until after the noon meal!” ordered theMistress, licking her lips and panting, and I watched with horror as thesobbing girl lifted herself and awkwardly managed to walk out of thekitchen, tightly clutching her skirts up to keep her backside ondisplay. I was later to discover that she was to stand like that,buttocks and legs bared, during the entire course of the noon meal, sothe Master and his guests (there were some at almost every meal) and anypassing servants could witness the girl’s disgrace and humiliation.”And just what work are _you_ contemplating so intently?”I awoke from my stupor to discover the white tip of the cane pointingat my nose, the snarling face of Mistress DeMarcco glaring at me withundisguised fury.Gulping with haste I raced back to my duties, performing them with suchrapidity and motivation that the Mistress seemed pleased and mollified,and I had never felt such relief as when I heard her order the cook toreplace the cane on its peg. My whole backside tingled with feeling as Iworked, my heart pounding just at the thought of that cane striping mybottom. It terrified me beyond words. My hands trembled as I worked,tears swelling in my eyes. There was no way I could possibly endure suchhumiliation. If such was the standard practice at the DeMarcco estate Ishould have to leave immediately. I resolved to ask the Mistress aboutit later, when she had calmed down and was in better spirits.It was a full two days later before I was given the opportunity to talkto the Mistress. In the meantime, I was kept impossibly busy, runningerrands for the cook and assisting the housekeeper. At the end of thesecond day I was exhausted. I had never known that I could work so hardand I’ve been working since I was nine years old. I’d been in charge ofan entire household, with a dozen servants at my command, and yet Ifound it difficult to keep up with even the Mistress’ menial laborers,most of whom I discovered had been employed by the DeMarccos for years,and were apparently used to such a pace. I had never seen maids of suchenergy and stamina. When I mentioned this to the cook, a harsh butwell-respected woman, she warned me that my lack of initiative was sureto earn me punishment by the Mistress.”Surely not!” I cried out in distress. “Have I not performed my dutiesadequately?””Aye,” she whispered, her eyes warning me to keep my voice down, “butthe Mistress, she don’t care for adequate; she demands perfection. Sheinsists her household staff perform beyond the call of duty.” Iredoubled my efforts at those words, determined to make a goodimpression on the Mistress, rising first and going to bed last.Another chambermaid was flogged by the Mistress that evening, for whatI never heard, though rumor said it was for the failure to dust beneatha large vase mounted on the Mistress’ mantel. Thankfully I was sparedthe watching of the punishment as I was stationed in the kitchen thatnight, but I could hear the sound of the lash, and laughter and jeers ofthe guests mixed with sobs of pain on the part of the punished maid.Terror swept through my soul and I trembled and dropped several pots,earning a thorough scolding and threatening by the cook.The next day I was ordered to make an appearance before the Mistress.Though I desired to speak with her regarding my position, I was nowterrified. First, I was uncertain as to why she had asked to see me. HadI committed an offense? Was there a grave error on my part that requiredpunishment? Second, I was unsure how to approach the woman and ask to belet go. I had been thinking about this since I had witnessed Mary’scaning and resolved to leave, and now I was hesitant to depart. Wherewould I go? I had no other prospects. Surely I couldn’t expect a fairrecommendation from Mistress DeMarcco after just three days!Thus, chewing my lip with nervousness, I approached the Mistress’chamber door with great fear and trepidation, my heart in my throat, thethrobbing making it difficult to breathe. I knocked. There türbanlı maraş escort was silence.I knocked again. And then a third time. My nervousness was now manifestby physical perspiration. I had overheard Mary, the evening of hercaning, whispering and grumbling to another maid that she had indeedknocked many times and very loudly too, but that the Mistress hadobviously ignored her specifically to gain an excuse to punish her.Under no circumstances could I open that door of my own accord.I knocked again and again and waited. The waiting made me frantic, andtears of frustration came to my eyes. This was woefully unfair of theMistress. How could she be so cruel? Didn’t effort and a willingness toserve have any meaning for her?Suddenly the doorway opened before me, and there stood the Mistress.She was small and dainty, as I have mentioned, and as pretty and pale asa delicate flower. Her long dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders,a select few curls escaping to descend across her face, giving her awild, unpredictable look. Her face was slightly puffy and round, eyeslarge and oval, the pupils black and sparkling, her nose thin and narrowand just a shade too pointy. Her lips were beautiful, thick, lush,graceful curves that when they blossomed into a smile melted your heartand brought a blush of inadequacy to your face.There was something familiar about her face, a haunting feature,something reminiscent of someone I once knew, but I could not place it.I thought at first she resembled my mother, or one of my cousins, but ona closer look I saw those similarities were only superficial, like thecolor of her hair. There was something deeper, something crucial, but Icould not see it, only sense it, and it frustrated me.Her body overflowed with feminine vitality. Though she was petite, itwas only her frame that gave this impression, her slender arms andslight height. Her bosom would have been impressive on a large woman; onher it was magnificent. Her waist was naturally narrow, her hips just asnaturally wide and curved. I could not see her legs, but from what I hadwitnessed of the woman’s energy and the way she carried herself, I hadno doubt her legs were short and stout and extremely fit, for she was anactive woman, always scurrying, always moving.Undoubtedly the Mistress was a striking and attractive woman.Physically, no doubt, she could arouse any man. But it was equallyobvious her personality distorted her features to such an extent as tomake the body almost unusable. Even now, as she stood before me, eyescold and hard like glittering stones, her mouth did not smile but formedan ugly thin line, like the edge of a knife. Her body swelled with thepromise of youth and physical pleasure, and yet she marched like astatue, glaring and cold, and silently seated herself before me,watching me with those dark, impenetrable eyes. I trembled, waiting,wondering.For a long while she said nothing, her eyes staring at me, a tiny curveon the edge of her lip showing me she enjoyed my discomfort, my terror.Then she spoke.”So, Miss Janey, what excuse do you have for your appalling performancein your duties these past few days?”The question caught me by surprise. I stared in astonishment. I openedmy mouth but no sound emerged. I was silent.”No excuse, eh?” she growled. “Good. I abhor excuses. They mean nothingand excuse nothing. Performance is what counts, my dear. I realize youare new to the DeMarcco estate, Miss Janey, and I am prepared to grantyou some tolerance as you learn to adjust to your new position, but Iwill _not_ have you shirking your duties and promoting laziness amongthe other maids!”My heart seemed to have stopped beating during this speech. My mouthwas completely dry and an earthquake could not have provoked motion tomy feet in that instant. My mind could not even function. To say I wasstunned would be a gross understatement. For the past three days I hadpractically exhausted myself to death for this woman, rising an hourbefore expected and going to bed an hour after the scheduled time. I haddone the work of three women, scrubbing and washing and fetching untilmy legs and the backs of my hands ached and my eyes were throbbing withpain. Twice I had forgone meals in order to assist the tasks of otherswho were less capable than I, and several times I had caught andcorrected the mistakes of others. And now, after all those sacrificesshe dared to accuse me of sloth and incompetence!A slow, dull burning began in my belly, rumbling dangerously. Heat cameto my face and wrath filled my body. Trembling with rage I glared at thepetite, self-satisfied woman before me. In that instant I knew I hatedher. I knew that she delighted in breaking people, in making them submitto her by whatever method would work, and in my case nothing I couldever do would satisfy her, because that was exactly the gratification Isought, the fulfillment I needed. She was playing with me like a I was alittle doll, nothing more than toy to be tossed aside when the amusementwas over.”How dare you!” I exclaimed, a dark cloud of doom hanging over my head.I knew I sealed my fate with those words but I could not have stoppeduttering them if the Devil himself had been waiting in the doorway withball and chain and manacle, an evil welcome on his lips. Indeed, beingchained to the Devil would have been preferable to the MistressDeMarcco, for she was the queen of demons, a beautiful woman who tookpleasure in evil. Even then she sat primly, a soft, cruel smiledistorting her lips, listening to my outrage with delight, for she knewthe price of my pride, and eagerly assisted me in leaping into herprison and almost laughing with joy as I took the key myself and threwit away into the vile blackness of a bottomless pit.”Welcome to the DeMarcco estate,” she whispered quietly, when I hadfinished.”Bitch! Satan’s whore!” I hissed, my fury past control. But she onlysmiled, the self-satisfied smile of c***d who’s conniving has finallytriumphed over the indolent adult, and it was not pleasant, it was notpleasant at all.It is winter now, the November winds bringing thick white snowflakesfrom the north, and blanketing the world in white glistening coldness. Ifeel old and tired. My body aches in places I never knew I had feeling,and I work like a slave from before dawn to after dusk. I am a slave, infact, if not in legality. Mrs. DeMarcco’s power was far greater than myown, and though I knew it to be hopeless, I did seek other employment. Iwas so desperate I even investigated other occupations, but there wasnothing. Every door was slammed in my face, old friends smiling wan,empty expressions and turning away, shaking their heads sadly. There wasnothing for me except the torment of the DeMarcco hell, and there Ireturned, to work under the gaze of the bland, self-satisfied Mistress’face, my every gesture one of pain to me.I was frequently beaten; don’t let me lead you to believe otherwise.But it developed that the beatings were not the worst of it for me. I ama strong woman of independent means and I had always valued my freedom,and I bore the belief that hard and honest work would enrich and prosperme, which, when coupled with my determination to better my condition,all worked against me now. Here at the DeMarcco’s I was a slave, not aservant. Here I was not a respected and valued employee, but a drudge,hired for menial tasks that only served to further debase my ego.At first it was the beatings I feared most. For the few days after myinitial meeting with the Mistress I walked with cat paws, silent andswift, my ears and eyes alert for any sign of displeasure from theMistress. I knew it would come; how could it not, with türbanlı maraş escort bayan her attitude? Idid not know how I could bear it. But others did, others much morestupid and duller than I, so I should endure it too.But as the days went on I began to think that perhaps she would becontent to torture me mentally, to force me to perform tasks beneath mystation, to watch me grovel at her feet. Oh, it is easy to be deceivedonce, but even easier to be deceived a second time. I fell for her ploy,and after a week began to relax slightly, and actually sleep at nights.I was so unbearably tense and nervous those first few days my body justcollapsed with relief, and I spent a day in bed with a fever. I wasbetter the next day, and when I did not even see the Mistress for twowhole days I felt like spring had finally arrived after a long, cold,harsh winter. I fell to my work with an enthusiasm that surprised me,and actually found myself whistling one bright afternoon.It was then announced to me that I would be serving at dinner thatevening, to the Master and Mistress and his guests. The Master’s guestswere a prominent Lord and Lady who had traveled the distance fromLondon, and I knew he intended to offer them the best that could beprovided. For two days we had been cleaning the castle from top tobottom in such a fashion as hadn’t been done in at least two years,according to one of the older maids, and the Mistress herself hadalready administered half a dozen whippings to various individuals forcrimes of laziness and clumsiness.Terror shook my bones when I heard I would be required to serve. Surelythis was part of the Mistress’ plan. She would be alert for anyopportunity to punish me. The slightest transgression, no matter howinsignificant, would be sufficient cause for her. She would love tothrash me in front of the guests, I knew, as she often did to othergirls, and my heart felt monstrous and heavy, as though someone hadpierced it with a sharp knife and let out all the joy and hope.That evening I bravely went forth, determined to make a good show ofit. My uniform was spotless, every bit of lace washed three times tomake it the brightest white. My hair and face were clean and rosy, and Ismelled of soap and fresh water, having bathed in the freezing creekthat afternoon. My teeth shined and I smiled and laughed as thoughdelighted when the gentleman visitor, in rather unsubtle fashion, Imight add, pinched and patted my bottom beneath my skirt as I placed abowel of steaming broth before him, working frantically not to spill it,his wife glaring at him and at the same time pretending not to noticehis uncouth behavior.I breathed a deep sigh when I returned to the kitchen uns**thed afterthe first course. “If pinching is all my bottom feels before the nightis over I shall be delighted, even if the old brute pinches me black andblue!” I thought grimly, with fierce determination.But it was not to be. I served the food elegantly, gracefully, neverforgetting an item or spilling a drop of anything. I wanted nothing forthe Mistress to criticize, and she appeared frustrated and annoyed withme when I placed a thick slice a roast pork on her plate. I could feelher eyes on me as I worked, watching, waiting, lurking. I forced myselfto ignore her, and concentrate on pleasing the guests, and the Master,both of whom complimented me several times on my excellent service, theMaster once even commenting to his wife that she had picked an excellentmaid for the evening, and that I should be well rewarded. I saw a lookof disgust cross the Mistress’ face, but it was only for a second, andonly in my direction, and immediately she smiled and nodded at herhusband pleasantly, but her eyes told me that she had other rewards inmind for me.It was late in the evening when it happened. The guests had retiredfrom the main table to the lounge, where it was comfortable and warmbefore the fire, and there munched on cheeses and sweets and drank hotmulled wine. Tea was ordered, and I rushed to bring it in, my legsaching from all my scurrying, my arms and back exhausted. The teacupsand saucers were waiting for me in the kitchen, and, like a fool, Irushed back to the guests carrying the tray. I saw the Mistress watchingme from the corridor that passes by the kitchen, a haughty look oftriumph on her face. It unnerved me, and I wondered what she wasscheming now, but I had no time to waste. God wish I had, though itwould have made little difference in the long run. I had just placed thelast saucer and was carefully lifting the steaming teapot to beginpouring when there was a scream of outrage and a horrified MistressDeMarcco leapt to her feet.I paused and turned, blood draining from my face. After everything Ihad done, it was now happening anyway, despite my best efforts toprevent it. The Mistress was furious, eyes filled with tears and herpale cheeks crimson. “Oh, Madam,” she exclaimed, wringing her hands withagitation, “I am so very, very sorry! I cannot express my shame andhorror at this blunder. Please, please, do not think this is anydisrespect on the part of the DeMarccos! I beg your forgiveness for thisunforgivable act of rudeness!”There was more of this, much more, an astonishingly convincing act ofthe injured hostess, while the dignified lady, still seated and toosurprised to react, was visibly at a loss to know why she should beoffended at all. Suddenly the Mistress leapt forward and grasped theLady’s cup and saucer and thrust them in my astonished face.”How _dare_ you insult our guests in this manner! Do you have no shame,no pride in your work? I ought to flog you right here and now in frontof our guests!”Tears sprang to my eyes, blurring the cup, but I could now see quiteplainly the there was a tiny, almost imperceptible chip in the delicatechina. “But ma’am!” I gasped, vainly attempting to defend myself.”Shut your mouth, you worthless wench!” growled the Mistress angrily.”There is no excuse for such a mistake. You could have seriously injureda delicate, innocent Lady with your carelessness! A guest in this house!And after performing you duties so well, all evening, you have toembarrass the entire estate by your thoughtlessness! You may certainlyforget any promotion, stupid girl! I have half a mind to throw you outinto the cold, except you’d surely die, a worthless, unskilled slut likeyourself. At the best you can expect to be in charge of cleaning thefireplaces and disposing of the refuse. Why, I am so ashamed andembarrassed! I cannot think why _you_ still have the arrogance to remainstanding in front of us! Have you no shame?”Tears poured down my face and I sank to the floor sobbing, my faceflushed deep crimson. How could I have not checked the china beforebringing it to the table? It _was_ indeed a serious breech of duty. “I’msorry, Mistress,” I begged through my tears.”Sorry? You aren’t sorry in the least! If you value your employment atall, young wench, you will rush to the kitchen and fetch me the leatherstrap at once. And don’t you dare dawdle unless you wish to receive adouble portion!”I raced out eagerly, terrified, my tears blurring the spinning worldaround me. I past unfocused faces in the kitchen, hands guiding me untilsomeone thrust the strap into my trembling hand, and soft, feminine lipskissed my cheek with a whisper of “Good luck, Janey!” I didn’t even knowwho it was, but I was infinitely grateful for the gesture. Sobbing, Icame back into the parlor room where the small group stood before theblazing fire, Mistress DeMarcco still apologizing and shaking off thelady guest’s assurances that no harm had been done.”We must make an example of her,” said the Mistress as I trotted türbanlı escort maraş up.”We cannot allow such gross behavior to go unpunished.” She silentlytook the strap from me and ordered me to bend forward across the side ofthe settee. This was a slight distance from the others, for which I wasgrateful, but the position was still humiliating, my face and breastspressed against cushions. Still silent, her expression stern, theMistress lifted my skirt and bade me to hold it in place, awkward asthis was, my arms reaching behind me to press it against my back.Then the Mistress began to disrobe me, pulling down my bloomers andknickers until only my bare flesh was exposed. My face smarted withshame and tears as I heard the Master approach, quietly asking, “Is thisreally necessary, my dear?” I held my breath. Could he save me? Would hesave me?”It is absolutely necessary,” responded my Mistress. “We cannot allowsuch recklessness to go unpunished, and she shall be all the better forit, you will see. Having it in front of our guests will only enhance thepunishment,” she added coyly, “and besides, they might find it amusing.”Her husband shrugged. “Well, you know I leave household affairs for youto run as you see fit,” he said, and then returned to the others,conferring with them with soft tones. All three soon sat back down andwaited, watching. I could feel their eyes on me, though I dared not turnmy head. I could see the Lord most clearly, and he did not appear theleast put out by my predicament; he appeared almost jovial, in fact, andrather pleased.Meantime I lay sprawled in shame across the sofa arm, my naked buttocksand legs exposed for everyone, the Mistress standing tall and dark andfearsome beside me, the deadly leather strap in her hand as she smiledat me, caressing my cheek with it softly, and then she leaned forwardand whispered, “Are you ready naughty one? This is going to hurt, I canassure you. You deserve every stroke ten times over, little bitch! Iwill see that you are thoroughly punished on a regular basis after this.Do not let this be your first and last whipping by any means. You’ve gota fine bottom and it will look lovely covered with thick, red stripes!”With that, I knew I was doomed. There was no way I was going to getaway with a few token strokes to appease her guests or her own evildesires. No, I would be taken the full distance, given a long, thoroughwhipping that I would not fail to remember for days. And most likelythere would be more tomorrow, and the next day and the next. I knew nowthe Mistress was finished playing with me. She meant to hurt me now,really hurt me, and in the future she would leap at any excuse to do soagain.My face was turned away from the fire, and so partially concealed inthe gloomy room, and I licked my dry lips and waited. The first stroketook my breath away. It was so sharp, such a fine, thin pain, that I wassurprised. The strap appeared to be quite wide and thick, and yet thepain was very focused, precise. Again came the strap, this time causingme to suck air into my mouth with a sharp hiss. I could feel the twinbands of heat across my buttocks, both cheeks vibrating slightly withthe impact of the blows. The pain made me suddenly very conscious of mybottom: the delicate curves of plump flesh, the slender crack between mycheeks, and dark secrets buried beneath. I could feel the air between mylegs, cool against the lips of my privates, and I knew with deep shamethat surely the men could see everything.I quivered with the next few blows, amazed at the sting. Tears filledmy eyes and I could not help crying. The strokes seemed to get hardernow, and faster, and my whole bottom seemed to be burning with pain. Iwiggled and writhed as the whipping continued, no longer caring muchwhat the men saw between my legs. So they would watch me dance. Wouldthey see anything they had not seen already?Thinking of the men watching produced a strange reaction in me. I washorrified and ashamed, of course, but a naughty part of me felt ratherevilly delighted. I could feel a dampness growing between my legs as Ithought of them watching, and when the strap struck me either in aparticularly tender spot or very close to my crotch I could almost feelmyself bursting with excitement and orgasm. I felt the strap was myscourge, punishing me for my dirty thoughts and desires, and I acceptedit almost gratefully, rolling my hips and arching my bottom even higherinto the air to receive the blows.The strap was caressing me in dangerous places now. The Mistress hadcarefully laid parallel stripes full across both cheeks, so now sheconcentrated on unpunished areas, actually bringing the strap upward tostrike at the base of my rump, and bringing it down into my crack,bringing stinging fire to the tender insides of my cheeks.After a long time of this she began working on my legs, striping mythighs all around, especially the insides, right up to my crotch. Thisonly served to intensify my emotions, and though I wept miserably, Ifelt glad I was being punished. I thought of all the naughty thoughtsI’d had in my life, especially those involving men I had known, and Irelished the sting of the strap. It felt good and warm to me, and mybottom throbbed with a passion I had not known I possessed.The strap was furious now, lashing down again and again at lightningspeed, my bottom churning in the air as I grovelled with my face in thecushions and begged for mercy. I finally began to cry out loud, weepingand begging the Mistress to stop. This seemed to please her, and after afew more cruel lashes, she stopped. I collapsed on the couch for amoment, but then she ordered me to my feet. I was to go to the cornerand stand with my legs apart, and my hands holding my skirt so everyonecould see me. I would stay like that until bedtime. That is, unless Iwanted another whipping. It would be my choice.I chose the corner, naturally, and spent the rest of the night in thatposition. When the guests retired, the Mistress escorting them to theirchambers, the Master approached me. I had not really met him, and I wasafraid and uncertain what to think.He is a tall man, and towers above his wife. He is dark, like her, andbeautiful, too, but his beauty is hard and real, not soft and dreamy.When you look at the Mistress you think, “Can anyone really be sobeautiful?” but when you look at the Master you think, “Ah, there, intruth, is beauty, strong and rugged and secure.”He seemed like a nice man, as he approached me. His expression was oneof curiosity and concern, not anger or meanness. He knelt and studied mybottom for a few moments, my face flushed and ashamed. “She certainlydid a thorough job,” he said slowly, rising to his feet and looking mein the eye. I nodded, not sure what to say.”I wonder where she learned to whip like that,” he mused, and I did nothave an answer. His hand reached out and palmed my bottom, my heartleaping at both the pain and the masculine touch. “Still warm,” hewhispered. “Hot, in fact feels rather nice. You have a nice figure.””T-thank you, sir,” I whispered, terrified of his unknown intentions.”She seems to have a particular aversion to you,” he said suddenly,after a moment of quiet, his palm still pressed against my bottom. “Didyou do something to displease her?””I called her a bitch,” I thought grimly, but I did not say that.Instead I whispered, “She is very strict with all the servants, Master.”He nodded. “Too strict, if you ask me,” he said casually, but I caughtan expression of concern and puzzlement on his face as he spoke. “But itis none of my affair. She doesn’t interfere with the business and I willnot interfere with the household staff.” He removed his hand now, andcarefully helped me pull my skirt over my bottom. “Go ahead and go tosleep, now. You need your rest. A flogging takes a lot out of one.” Iwondered if he knew what he was talking about from experience, but I hadto admit I was more exhausted than I’d ever been in my life. I felt likeI should collapse at any moment, and indeed, I only just barely made itto my bed.To be continued………………….
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