A PASSION FOR CRUELTY
A dark tale set in London in 1876

BY DICKINS
dickins22@hotmail.com

This story is a work of erotic fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used here fictitiously. Any resemblance to real events, locals or any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

[ part 1 ]

Reunion

The evening was drawing in after a fine day. The clatter of carts, coaches and tradesman’s traps had died away with the sunlight, and once again peace had descended on Hanover Square.

As was my want at such times, I settled down beside the roaring fire in the parlour. There, while enjoying a glass of claret and inhaling the smell of supper wafting from the kitchen, I put on my spectacles and settled back to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quite before my young maid Rose called me to the table.

I was reading the daily report from the House of Commons when there was a knock at the front door. The unwelcome noise irritated me, and I glanced at the clock on the mantel trying hard to continue to read, and ignore the sound. I had few friends; by choice I assure you, and none who would call upon me at such an inconvenient time without an appointment.

I heard the scuffle of Rose’s skirts as she passed the parlour door, hurrying to answer the front door. I read on, refusing to strain my already poor hearing, but the words held no meaning as my attention was drawn to figuring out who could possibly be calling at such an unearthly hour.

In due course, Rose knocked and entered. She had only been with me a few of months, but had already learnt the art of moving quietly, and keeping her back straight whilst keeping her hands clasped together in front of her lace pinafore.

She curtsied her face dutifully lowered. None the less, her urchin features were there, her pointed nose and large eyes, her slender lips and thin chin. A lace cap held her uncut hair beneath it, but when off, her hair extended to the small of her back, a lovely dark brown that was a beautiful contrast to her pale skin.

She excused herself politely before telling me that a young woman and a child were at the door wanting to see me.

“Well! Don’t they have names?” I asked sighing with regret, for the silly girl had just earned herself yet another punishment. It would be yet another task in my very busy day, and one that I now realised with some regret would mean that my paper would have to go unread yet again.

Frankly, though, there were too many hours in the day. My wife was dead and my daughter had fled the house some eleven years ago, and now I only had my maid to discipline. Not at all like the old days when I was in the Army in India. Then there had been men to command and servants to teach compliance and obedience too.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Rose gulped, quickly curtsying again.

“Well!” I said.

“Miss Sarah and her daughter! Rose replied.

“I see,” I murmured, and put the paper down. “Bring them in and go and prepare the table for three,” I said.

“Yes, Sir,” Rose replied.

I detected a look of relief on her pretty little face and smiled as I thought of her welcoming my guests with the idea that their arrival would delay her punishment.

“I will expect you, as usual, at nine,” I told her, laughing as her expression changed. “Now! It wouldn’t do for me to become lax in my responsibility, now, would it?” I asked of her.

“No, Sir, thank you, Sir,” she murmured, curtsying once more before hurrying to fetch my guests.

A few moments later Rose drew open the parlour door to allow Sarah to enter with a pretty little girl of eleven or thereabouts protectively held before her.

I looked at the child first, ignoring Sarah as my eyes slid over her face, seeing her mother in her features and expression. There was a stubbornness and pride there, in equal measures, but there was also nervousness too. Her clothes however, were of a poor quality and ill fitting but were nevertheless clean.

My attention then turned to her mother and I sighed, for there was sadness there, a great sadness and a despair that had driven her to my door.

“Hello Father,” she murmured.

“You must be in dire need to have to come to me for support,” I told her. She winced and blushed, and for a moment she looked startlingly like her deceased mother.

“Not that I would deny it to you. You have always been welcome here, Sarah, you know that,” I told her.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m a disappointment,” she said. I shook my head, hot and unshed tears clouding my poor vision.

“You misunderstand me! Just as you always have,” I told her.

“What was there to understand?” she asked with a shrug, as the sound of the bell from the dinning room interrupting us.

“Come! Let’s put all that behind us. Take off your coats and let’s sit down as a family and have a meal together,” I suggested. “Then after we’ve eaten, I’ll have the spare made ready for you both,” I said. As we entered the dining room, Rose stood respectfully to one side, her head bowed and her hands on her pinafore.

During the meal I ate sparingly and we seldom spoke. The child and I had yet to learn her name ate ravenously, grabbing for the bread and eating rapidly until her mother admonished her, but Sarah I noted ate just as eagerly.

I felt momentarily guilty, but then, it hadn’t been me who had forced my daughter to flee the house never to return, her belly already well pronounced. She had not even attended her mother’s funeral, held just three months after she left; although I noticed that there were often flowers other than my own left at her grave.

Rose came and took the plates, returning with a pot of coffee and cups for us all.

“Emily will have warmed milk,” Sarah told Rose, who curtsied before hurrying out.

“I see your taste for young girls hasn’t changed,” Sarah remarked.

“And why should it?” I asked. It wasn’t as if I was doing anything illegal or immoral, I am just taking pretty young girls into service and training them. Of course, none of my maids ever stay very long and after learning their trade under my strict tutelage, they quickly move on to better positions.

“Jane left about a year after you walked out,” I told her. “She is working for the Duke of Marlborough now,” I said.

I am rather proud of young Jane. She wouldn’t have obtained such a good position if it had not been for my dedication to her education and advancement.

I sipped the fine black coffee and checked the hunter in my breast pocket. The time was fifteen minutes to nine and time to get things ready.

“No doubt you will want to put Emily to bed,” I surmised aloud.

“Yes, please,” Sarah, agreed, her cheeks brightening.

“Be sure to be in the library at nine,” I told her.

“Is that really necessary?” Sarah asked, helping Emily down from the table.

“Of course! We all have a duty to assist those who are less fortunate than ourselves,” I reminded her.

Sarah sighed and left the room with Emily. She would have stayed to argue, had it not been for the child, I was sure.

Sarah and I had often had raging rows as her mother allowed her to have too much independence. Perhaps motherhood will have helped her to understand life a little better, but I doubted it.

My daughter and I haven’t seen eye to eye with each other since her fourteenth birthday. Coincidentally that was the same day her mother had obtained a promise from me to cease educating her. I sighed and shook my head, certain that, had I been able to properly administer discipline in her upbringing, Sarah would not have found herself with child at such an early age, and to her shame not even betrothed.

We never had any problems like that in the Army. The soldiers and the servants knew their place and how to behave, instilled by a judicious use of the cane, crop and strap.

Entering the library I inspected the room, checking that everything was in order, nothing out of place to cause any discord, especially now that my wayward daughter was to be present.

I stoked the fire and added some more coal to those already glowing in the grate, then took a little key from my pocket and unlocked the large cabinet standing over by the far wall. The façade of fake book spines opened with the doors, exposing the secret compartment that held all the educational implements I had collected over the years.

The canes are of the very best quality, and stamped with the name of Harris & Sons, Gravesend. My collection of leather straps, of which I have a particularly fine set, were purchased from Gould’s of Carnaby Street, and the many whips and crops are from Lawsons, that fine maker of leather goods for the Gentry.

Few of my maids have ever shown an interest in knowing the quality of the implements but I am sure that they came to appreciate them when they had children of their own to punish, as a poorly made implement could easily shatter and cut into their delicate skin.

The clock in the hall began to strike nine, and Rose came hurrying in, curtsying before the last strike of the hour.

I smiled; pleased to see that she had made it on time and not earned herself further punishment.

Sarah, under no such compulsion, appeared a few moments later.

“I am sorry you have to undergo this, Rose,” my daughter murmured as she passed my young maid, on her way to the seat that had always been there for her.

“It’s all right, Miss,” Rose said, her face showing a slight flush of embarrassment. “I understand that your father is doing it for my own good,” she murmured.

I beamed at Rose, a girl worthy of my efforts, and then turned to scowl at my daughter.

“You see! Not everyone questions my motives,” I told her.

“But!” Sarah started to say.

“Be silent,” I ordered, turning towards Rose to glare at her with all of my displeasure.

“Now my girl! List your errors,” I told her.

Rose licked her lips and took a deep breath, her eyes following me as I stepped back to stand before the opened cabinet.

“I spilt the milk this morning, but only a trifle, and I cleaned it up straight away,” she told me. I nodded my acknowledgement and let my hand rest on one of the canes.

“Then, I failed to capture all the dust from the stairs,” she said, watching my hand as it lingered over one of the fine leather straps.

“I forgot to curtsy this afternoon,” she recalled, her voice starting to soften with each miss-endeavour. I remembered and nodded, my hand sliding to the short whip.

“And then I mumbled when Miss Sarah arrived,” she whispered.

As well she might whisper, her failures adding up to bring my hand to hover over a special crop, a lovely two foot piece of leather that was wrapped lovingly round a length of supple cane with a tongue tip of flat leather which could be flicked most agreeably.

I took it down and let her look at it. Her nervous swallow brought a smile to my lips.

“This won’t be the first time you’ve felt this special crop, will it, Rose?” I asked.

I swept it down onto the arm of a nearby chair and nodded as a burst of dust rose into the air. Rose shook her head in agreement watching the dust rise and knowing that she would have a hard time cleaning tomorrow, but a sore bottom would be a constant reminder for her to do it well.

“Prepare yourself!” I ordered.

Despite being only fourteen and the relative short time she had been in my employ, Rose knew what was expected and dutifully began undoing her uniform. I had designed it with this requirement in mind, and so that the fastenings were simple and effortless to undo.

I glanced towards my daughter and smiled at her as Rose revealed her small, pert breasts. Then at last Rose stood naked and bright faced coming over to curtsy sweetly in front of me, her hands held at her side the way I always insisted upon during these educational lessons.

Sarah turned away to look with great attention at her fingernails but secretly I knew that she was just as excited as I was at having the chance to witness Rose’s cruel education.

“I am ready, Sir,” she announced, blushing as my eyes swept over her lovely young body.

Her breasts were small and firm, pear shaped and plump, the nipples small, dainty and a bright and innocent pink. She had a slender waist and lean hips, and her compact bottom was in keeping with her slender legs and flat stomach.

There were only a few curls covering her pubis giving us a pleasant view of her cunt, their darkness contrasting nicely with the pale ivory of her skin.

Rose walked over to where I had placed the crop, her bottom nicely presented as she leant over to pick it up and bring it back to me.

“Please, Sir, would you help me to better myself?” she asked softly, her breath already quickening with the very thought of her impending ordeal.

“Very well, Rose,” I agreed taking the crop and ignoring the snort that came from my daughter.

A glance in her direction was all the warning I was prepared to give her, then my attention returned to my lovely pupil as I strode over to the occasional table in centre of the room and then fetched one of the armchairs and placed it with its back towards the table.

Rose knew the position she had to adopt for her punishment.

Shyly, she glanced at Sarah before placing her knees on each arm of the chair and then carefully leaning over the back to place her elbows and lower arms onto the polished surface of the table.

In this position, her shoulder blades rose in stark relief to her lower back causing the cheeks of her bottom to part from one another in a most obscenely way. Her little oval breasts were now suspended beneath her trunk, their curve unaltered by her position whilst her bottom tensed nervously in anticipation of the punishment she was about to receive.

“You are a real disappointment, Rose,” I told her severely; lifting the crop up to measure the distance I would need to ensure a proper swing.

I’m sorry, Sir!” she murmured, her warm breath misting the highly polished surface of the wooden table.

“Now! Push your bottom out,” I ordered, although, to be frank, her parted bottom needed no further stretching.

She lowered her back another inch and, in doing so, forced her bottom cheeks even wider, painfully stretching the sinuses at the top of her thighs and exposing her delicious charms most agreeably.

The soft leather tongue tickled and teased her lovely soft skin as I swung it back and forth. My wrist added to the movement, flicking it lightly, then without warning I brought the tip down vertically in between the cheeks of her parted bottom. Listening to her draw breath and watching her bottom tense satisfied me as to the quality and the precision of my first stroke.

Nodding to myself, my hand lifted the crop again, once more flicking lightly across her flesh teasing her until the next harsh flick that would bring her to her toes, and have her gasping and writhing her bottom in the hope that it would help cool it and lessen the pain.

A ruddy glow began to develop along the apex of her finely curved bottom as flick after flick brought on a warm tenderness. It was a mark of the softness of her skin, in that it would glow after only four or five smacks from the whippy tongue of the crop.

I delivered a few more strokes, taking my time to allow her to regain her composure, if not her skin colour. She whimpered now after each stroke, her toes curling back and forth and her hips rotating as she tried to dispel the growing heat in her tender bottom.

I tapped her lovely bottom with the tip of the crop, slapping at her skin almost playfully in quick succession, until the last one which I delivered harshly bringing her head up and lifting her onto her toes again.

Her thighs tensed and stretched and she quivered adorably before she slowly hung her head and dutifully pushing her bottom out again for me to continue.

“What do you say?” I asked sharply, admiring the glow I had brought to her otherwise pale skin.

“Thank you, Sir,” she panted, dipping her back just that little bit more, her face growing as warm as her bottom.

I began to tap her other pert cheek, seemingly teasing her while in reality tenderising the skin for the final, sharper delivery of the tip of the crop’s soft leather tongue.

And so it proved, with the crop landing to bring a swift little cry from the girl, whilst her bottom danced as the sharp sensations flared within.

Rose whimpered, as she strived to recover her breath and absorb the pain that was building in her bottom. Then, in mute compliance, she dipped her back again until her bottom, which was widely parted by the arms of the chair, opened once more to reveal her lovely charms.

I glanced over towards Sarah and smiled as she starred wide-eyed at the girl, no doubt enjoying the erotic position that I insisted that Rose adopt, but looked away just as soon as she noticed that I was watching her.

Using the soft tongue, I let it dance between my maid’s thighs until the rapid flicks brought a flood of blood to the surface of her skin. Then listening for her to regain her breath again I brought even more colour to her thighs, only stopping when the increased sensation grew too much for her.

The task was delicious, and her pale flesh soon took on a smarting red, gleaming with the polish from the leather tongue. I commenced flicking with greater urgency against her tender flesh, smiling at the jerking it caused and the sharp cries the young girl uttered.

Each fresh flick of the leather crop brought a new jerk, each one slightly more pronounced than the last. Her cries raised an octave with each strike and her return to the required position slowed as the growing sensations within her young body caused ever more trembling to her.

Panting and whimpering, she lowered her upper body, pressing it to the table in her urge to expose herself even more. I admired the sight, her bottom fully parted, her thighs separated sufficiently to expose the hanging curve of her vulva, the succulent flesh made all the prettier by the rosy complexion of her bottom and inner thighs.

The position exposed the tender skin on the underside of her bottom, an area that normally lay together, protecting her delicious young cunt. Separated, they bordered her exposed anatomy and left her completely unprotected.

I raised the crop, and flicked the soft tip between the two fleshy curves, smiling as the girl quivered and groaned. Her quivering grew more and more pronounced and her groans lengthened, at which point I made the final flick of the crop upwards to scold both sides of her flesh.

“Please Sir!” she cried, rising up on her toes, her bottom wriggling about like a fish on a line.

I looked over at Sarah, finding her enthralled by the girl’s ordeal, her heavy skirts unable to hide her excitement as she wrapped her thighs around her hands and rubbed.

“That’s shameful!” Sarah murmured, looking away again when she saw me watching.

I shrugged and returned my attention to my young maid who, recovering her breath, had parted her thighs even further to leave her aroused cunt poised for my pleasure, her labia slightly parted.

“It’s alright Miss!” Rose panted breathlessly, holding herself still for my next stroke.

Flicking that most tender part of her flesh again, narrowly missing her vulva and clenched anus I watched her quiver while her breath once more escalated in anticipation of the fierce and lancing pain she would receive.

I then delivered another sharp stroke, and watched as the girl rose up on her toes and tossed her bottom back and forth while the skin I had just struck brightened, taking on a glow that rivalled that of my daughter’s face.

“Please Sir!” Rose whimpered.

Her hand came back, between her thighs, and her fingers massaged the pulpy lips of her cunt before drawing them apart to offer the inner flesh to our gaze.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” I asked.

“Yes Sir,” she whimpered, but her other hand came back, around the curve of her bottom, for her stretched fingers to draw her cheeks still further apart, offering up her stretched anal ring for my pleasure, whatever that may be.

“Good!” I told her, patting her back to let her rise, her burning face bowed humbly. “Gather up your clothes and go to your room,” I ordered, returning the crop to the cabinet.

“Thank you, Sir,” Rose said, curtsying and hurrying out of the room, her hands too full of her clothes to rub her tender bottom.

I could tell that she was disappointed that my daughters presence had meant that I couldn’t allow her to orgasm as was my customary reward for obedience during punishment, but a wink from me let her know that I would be down later.

Sarah cleared her throat and stood up her face flushed. “Will that be all, Father?” she asked softly, the glow still on her face and cheeks as she glanced at the table where young Rose had just been punished. “I don’t think so. Do you?” I asked her. She looked at me and licked her lips, her features glowing still further.

“Please, Father. Please don’t make me,” she begged.

“Why have you returned?” I asked, changing the subject. “Why now?” I asked her abruptly, the thought being uppermost in my mind since her arrival back in the house after so many years.

She left with child, and had overcome all of the difficulties that must have been presented to her, and yet now she has returned to a house that she clearly found distasteful.

“Why Sarah?” I pressed once more.

She looked down licking her lips, her hands clasped tightly together as she swayed slightly.

“I’m with child again,” she murmured, almost beyond my hearing. I sighed and leant back against the cabinet.

“And the Father?” I asked.

She shrugged. “A married man who’ll not acknowledge it,” she told me softly, the heat on her face growing, no doubt in memory of the close embrace.

I saw tears in her eyes and nodded my understanding.

“How long?” I asked.

“Two, perhaps three months,” she murmured.

“I shall take that into account,” I assured her, reaching for the slimmest of my canes, a lovely piece of bamboo that gleamed with the polish that had been added to it.

“Father, please, no,” she begged, a hand on her chest as her breath suddenly left her.

“It is this, or you leave once more,” I told her.

“But Mother,” she reminded me.

“Is dead,” I cut her off. “She is dead and my decisions are final.

You will follow the rules of this house, as will Emily, or you will leave, tonight!” I told her.

“Father, please. I beg you, anything but that!” she whimpered, her eyes begging me like she had never begged before.

“For once, you will do as I tell you,” I told her, enunciating every word with calm deliberation. “Now, what is it to be, the table, or the door?” I asked her.

“You know we cannot leave. We have nowhere else to go,” she argued, quivering with her emotions.

“Then come to terms with your lot, as we all have to do in life, and remove that old and drab dress!” I ordered. She broke down and began to sob. I ignored her and curved the cane between my hands, testing its suppleness before flicking it through the air to listen to the whistle it made.

While doing so, I watched her undress. It had been years since I had seen my daughter naked.

Her body was no longer that of a young girl but that of a woman. Her breasts were now fully developed, and her nipples were surrounded by aureoles of burnished copper skin.

There was roundness to her belly, and stout hips that gave weight to her lovely bottom. She shyly covered the rich growth of pubic hair over her cunt, but not before I had spied the fullness of her labia, well curved and meshed together between curved thighs.

Watching her clothes come off should have been more pleasurable than it was. It wasn’t her sobbing that detracted me from the sight of her disrobing, or the way in which she tried to hide her lovely charms.

It was the poor quality of her clothing that I found so alarming, and the fact that she was wearing no undergarments. I snorted, looking at her nakedness and noticing the odd bruise and the many small cuts and abrasions caused through poorly fitting corsets.

“I’ll have my tailor call tomorrow,” I told her gruffly. “Those you can burn!” I said, pushing her discarded clothes aside with the tip of the cane. “Now! Get over here, thighs apart, hands holding the far side of the table!” I ordered.

Her sobbing lost some of its restraint as she shuffled to the table, the hands that were so diligently covering her pubis moving away at the very last moment.

“Thighs further apart!” I told her, prodding her with the tip of the cane and no doubt adding to her bruising. With a renewed weeping, she shuffled her thighs apart, aiding her upper body to lie flat upon the table, compressing her breasts into the cold and polished surface.

Her full and fleshy cunt now unfurled, dark tinted folds parting to reveal the bright pink interior. Her weeping provided a backdrop to her exposure as I revelled in her humiliation.

“You will count the strokes,” I told her, taking my place at her side and tapping the last six inches of the slim cane across the fullness of her bottom.

“Father, please, please,” she sobbed.

“Father, now, is it?” I murmured as I lifted the cane.

It hesitated in the air as I concentrated on the point I wished it to land, and then I brought it down hard, the impact making it bend and dig into her flesh before rebounding.

She screamed and contorted, the welt appearing across her full pale bottom, the colour quickly brightening it.

“So! Even under punishment, you refuse to obey,” I teased, admiring her secret charms as she erotically squirmed in an effort to lessen the pain building in her bottom. “No, no Father, I forgot!” she cried. “One, one, oh please, one!” she wept, as fresh hot tears dropped onto the polished table.

Placing the cane on her bottom, I slid it over the raised welt that crisscrossed the cheeks, and then tapped it upon the virgin flesh I wished to mark next.

Her weeping shook her bottom, and the rise of the cane from against her flesh brought her head up, in addition to tightening her thighs and bottom cheeks most agreeably. Once again, I let the cane hover, holding it until my daughter turned her beseeching eyes towards me, sparkling with her unshed tears.

Only then did I let it sweep down, whistling through the air to cut into her fleshy bottom cheeks most harshly and release another howl of pain into the room.

“Two!” she screamed, gripping the table’s edge and stamping her feet as the pain raged through her bottom. The second stroke produced a most agreeable welt, brightening to the point of glowing, the skin near to being cut.

“Please, Father!” she wept.

“It’s a little late for familiarity, isn’t it?” I asked, sneaking the cane out from under my hand to caress the twin welts, then to slide it along from beginning to end.

“Please! It hurts,” she wept, trembling as she tried not to move as I used the tip to carefully part her bottom cheeks and examine what had been partially hidden, her dark ringed anus.

“So! Did he take you back there too?” I asked, watching the dark ring clench under my gaze.

“You disgust me!” she sobbed.

The cane swept up and down, the power of my anger behind it, and her screech rent the air, hesitating for a moment as she re-filled her lungs before continuing while she danced, gripping her bottom and squirming upon the table’s edge.

“I disgust you?” I marvelled. “You who have slept with a married man with little regard for the end results of the union, and you say I disgust you. Now! Get your hands away from your bottom,” I ordered, shaking with anger.

“Please, Father, oh, please don’t!” she wept, shaking like an autumn leaf as her hands crept from her lined bottom.

The cane whistled a most satisfying note as it sliced through the air on its way down, it’s landing depressing the skin then rebounding to leave a line that swiftly rose and brightened.

Sarah screamed and contorted, kicking her legs and weeping like a little girl, just as she had done all those many years ago when my discipline were just part of her education.

I sucked in a deep and steadying breath and watched her maul her bottom, continuing to toss and squirm as the dreadful pain burnt steadily into her. “So! How much do you want to stay?” I asked.

Still weeping uncontrollably, and squirming from the last strike of the cane, she reached between her thighs to fumble with her fleshy lips, parting herself until at last, she showed me the pulsing hole into her vagina. I stared at her quivering form, inhaling as I took delight in her submission to me.

“Just how much?” I asked.

Turning her head away, she delicately pulled her bottom cheeks apart and dipping her back, offered up the stretched flange of her anus for my taking.

“Is that it?” I asked, prodding the soft skin that bordered it with the tip of the cane.

Her crying rose to new heights of abandonment as her legs gave way, and she dropped to her knees on the rug that covered the polished floorboards.

There, half blind by the tears that ran down her face, she crawled towards me, tears dribbling onto her breasts and running down her nipples, giving them a gleam I knew she hadn’t intended.

None the less, she looked perfectly delectable as she crawled upon her knees towards me, sniffing and weeping, until at last she stopped in front of me. Looking up at me beseechingly, her hands scrambled at my trousers, blindly searching for the buttons of my fly.

“Please, don’t hurt me anymore,” she whimpered. She found me erect within my tweed trousers and she began to rub urgently, her breath quickening as she licked her lips in readiness.

I pushed her away and scowled.

“Do you think I want second hand goods?” I asked with scorn. “Do you think I want you now that you have been discarded by others?” I asked with spite, watching her sob with utter dejection upon the floor.

“Father, please,” Sarah begged.

“Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” I told her, marching past her bent form to put the cane away.

Still weeping, Sarah gathered her clothes and crept out, the sound of her crying continuing as she climbed the stairs, and onwards until her door closed behind her.

Silence took over again, and I could sit in contemplation of the day as the grandfather clock ticked quietly in the background. Then, as the clock chimed midnight I opened the door under the main stairs and descend to the servant quarters.

The rooms were empty, except for the small one used by my maid. Cook no longer lived in, but arrived early each morning and left when her duties had finished.

The handle to Rose’s bedroom door turned easily, and the door opened without a sound. An oil lamp dimply lit the room, and in particular the bedside table and the small bed. Rose lay under the covers, her large brown eyes watching as I closed the door quietly behind me and stepped towards her.

“Let me see,” I ordered.

Being the obedient young girl she was, Rose pushed the covers off and turned onto her knees. Then gathering her thick nightgown she removed her nightwear and pushed her bottom out for inspection.

It looked small compared to my daughter’s, but I refused to think of her, and concentrated instead on making sure that I hadn’t hurt my maid too much. It is one thing to educate, another to chastise, and yet quite another to hurt them so that they aren’t able to work the next day.

Examining her up-thrust bottom, I stroked the smooth firm cheeks to satisfy myself that they had only been tenderised, then I urged her to part her thighs so I could examine the lovely soft inner surface, stroking gently as I did.

“No longer in pain?” I asked, pulling her lovely bottom cheeks fully apart to look at the burnished skin I had produced, and deeper in the crease, the wrinkled flange of her anus that was now winking at me in trepidation.

“It burns, Sir,” she mumbled, her face hidden in her bedcovers.

“Perhaps a little ointment will help!” I suggested, straightening so I could better undo my trousers.

“Whatever Sir thinks best,” Rose muttered softly, turning her head so a single brown eye could silently watch my trousers part and my shirt tail slip aside. My stout cock sprang out ready to do battle again. I raised a foot onto her bed and roughly pulled her towards my crotch, then positioned my hands on her hips to hold her.

“Where shall I ride you to?” I asked, lowering myself to her dainty cunt and pressing at the right moment to feel the hot little walls surround my head.

“To Canterbury, Sir,” Rose said, panting as she stretched around me.

“All the way to Canterbury then!” I told her, pressing myself home to feel myself submerge in her hot tightness.

The girl was a pleasure, and I eased her back and forth as I moved, bringing her to meet my inward thrust and pushing her away as I drew practically out again.

“We’re trotting,” I breathed, pushing back and forth and having the pleasure of seeing her parted bottom moving back and forth above my gleaming piston. She clutched at the covers and panted, her tapered back dipped as she fought to have all of my cock enter her hotness.

“Are we there yet?” I asked, the pleasure beginning to rise from my loins and warming my chest. She shook her head breathlessly, her body rocking to my thrusts.

“Then we’ll canter!” I told her, and quickened our pace, her juices allowing me to slide smoothly back and forth.

“I see it, I see it!” she squealed.

“See Canterbury?” I puffed. Her sexual heat had engulfed me and the slick friction of our parts was swelling and rising, a sweet craving that demanded I quicken.

“Let’s gallop!” I cried, our flesh slapping together as I rode hard to our conclusion.

We arrived at the town at the same time, both rider and mount crying out with the pleasure of a good ride. My cock swelled and jumped as it joyously spurted, her walls clinging vibrantly to the shaft until, all done, she relaxed to let me leave.

Patting her lovely bottom as she straightened, I turned to leave and stopped for a moment to wonder how her bedroom door could have become ajar without my noticing.

Promising to get the carpenter in to mend it, I left her and climbed the stairs, my duty to staff and family complete for another day.

******

Emily was the first to wake. I could hear her running back and forth on the landing, that is until Rose tried to calm the child and urge her to be quite.

“Stop that! You’ll wake the Master, and he’ll be cross!” she warned.

Silence returned, but only for a short while, and then there was more noise as the child bounced upon her bed, doing so with such strength that the headboard knocked annoyingly on our adjoining wall, ensuring that I’d get no more sleep. As I went to find out what was happening I met Sarah.

“Father! I was just going to take Emily downstairs, out of your way,” she murmured, her face burning with the knowledge of my displeasure and of what it meant for her.

“It’s too late now!” I spat. Returning to my room I found that Rose had laid my clothes neatly out for me.

Then a half hour later, I was in the dining room reading the paper as the clock in the hall chimed ten o’clock.

“Sorry about earlier, Sir,” Rose murmured as she served breakfast.

“Have you arranged for my tailor to visit today?” I asked.

“Yes, Sir, he will be arriving at midday,” she replied.

“Good! Now go about your business, I will be checking your progress later on,” I warned.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, curtsying and hurrying out of the dining room.

I read the Times while I ate, and then ambled through to the parlour to sit beside the window while I strived at the crossword. As usual, it was confoundedly difficult, and not aided by the squealing that came from the garden. Giving up on trying read my paper, I watched Sarah play with Emily. They looked happy and carefree, Emily in particular. Her name suited her, I thought, but she looked little like her mother, and caused me to wonder whom the Father might have been.

At eleven, the child was developing nicely, but my tailor would have to take her measurements as well and provide her with something more appealing than what she currently wore I decided.

I watched them playing for a while then the heat of the sun through the window and the lack of sleep made me close my eyes and before I knew it my maid was shacking me awake to tell me that my tailor had arrived.

The little man, balding and with a little pair of glasses fixed to his nose, bobbed up and down with his pleasure at being summoned to see me.

Rose went to fetch Sarah and Emily and I explained what I required.

“Oh, ah, I see,” he mumbled, flexing his neck as if his collar had suddenly become too tight. “I’m afraid that there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding,” he told me, his body withering under my stare.

“How so?” I asked, trying to appear outwardly calm while Sarah and Emily entered, their cheeks still glowing from their exercise.

“Ah well! You see I’m on my own, thinking it was you, my Lord, who needed a fitting. Had I known it was to be ladies, then of course, I would have brought a lady to help them with their measurements,” he explained.

“I’m sure I can count on you confidentiality,” I replied with a wink.

“Well of course, my lord,” he mumbled, his Adam ’s apple bobbing up and down from his collar. “Not a word will pass my lips,” he told me, his eyes gliding towards mother and daughter.

Sarah paled as she understood what was to occur, and Emily’s face burned, as she too started to understand, her eyes darting all about her to see just who would be witness to her ordeal. Like mother, like daughter, I thought, watching their expressions closely as they came to understanding just what I intended.

“Sarah, he will attend to you first, so that Emily may know what to do,” I told her. “Do not disappoint me, my girl,” I warned softly.

She flinched at my words, and yet drew her daughter to one side so that she might step forward, towards the eagerly waiting man.

He jumped at the chance to assist her with the little hooks and eyes of the bodice of her dress, and I could see his eyes drinking in the paleness of her back as the material drew away. She held it to her at the front, her eyes fluttering as her face burnt, but when our eyes met for a moment, I saw her understanding of what she would receive from me if she didn’t obey, and let the dress fell away.

“My word!” the man intoned. His eyes stared at my daughter’s bottom where bruised lines crossed her cheeks, two of them much brighter in colour than the others.

“Just deal with the measurements, if you please,” I told him. Emily I noted, was horrified by the state of her mother’s bottom and her young and inquisitive eyes turned towards me, her mouth half open as she started to realise that, if necessary, I wouldn’t hesitate to punish her little bottom in the same way.

He took the measurement of my daughter’s breasts, his nimble fingers ensuring the tape ran across her nipples, adjusting the tape as the growing points pushed it off, either down or up.

At last, and breathless, he had the measurement and continued to her waist. Bending to read the tape, his head came level with her breasts and his eyes fairly bulged at the closeness to her full gourds, their fullness in part a result of her pregnancy.

I watched, intrigued by the interplay of expressions upon everyone’s faces as he knelt down to slide the tape about her hips.

His nimble fingers brought the tape together over the crisp curls of her Venus Mount, and I watched with a smile as Sarah struggled to remain still, her blushes never hotter and her anguish in plain sight upon her face.

“Will you need her leg measurements?” I asked, as he stood again, a finger trying to ease the restriction of his starched collar while his beady little eyes were drawn to my daughter’s nakedness once more.

“Leg measurements, Sir? Well, yes, I suppose so,” he murmured, and his eyes fairly bored into the press of her thighs.

“And is it not customarily to take the measurement from the top of the inner thigh?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, certainly,” he agreed, hurrying down to his knees now that he knew I wouldn’t disapprove.

“Come now, Sarah,” I chided, smiling at the working of her face as she struggled to control herself.

She succumbed, as I knew she would, and my smile no doubt furthered her hot blushes as, her thighs apart, she allowed him to place the tip of his tape up against the curve of her vulva, and then measure the distance to her ankle, his eyes unwillingly having to leave her crotch to do so.

“Very good,” I smiled and turned towards Emily, who had been watching enthralled with an open mouth and a glowing face as the measurements were taken.

“Come now Emily! You want a pretty new dress, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded shyly, towards her mother.

“And pretty under-things, silk and lace, of the softest of cottons?” I asked, picturing the girl in the smallest, most revealing of lace draws, and a pretty vest that would irritate her budding nipples to leave them sharp as two points.

“Don’t let me down now! Emily. Be brave for you mother,” I ordered.

Sarah agreed, nodding her permission and waving the girl forward so she could help her. She stepped forward, drawing her hair apart at the back so her mother could undo the hook and eye at her neck, and begin parting her dress.

Emily blushed prettily towards me as she stepped out of the faded material, only an old, worn and torn shift now remaining, and the last veil to her virtue. It had buttons that ran down the back and once undone, allowed her to shrug it forward, off her arms and down her lovely body.

Naked, the child looked divine. Her tiny breasts had begun to form, no more than small cones on which her pink nipples stood. Her belly retained its roundness, while lower down, slender young hips gave a little extra weight to a lovely shaped little bottom. Sarah turned her, allowing me to see her front where her belly sank towards the meeting of her thighs, revealing a sparsely covered font of wispy hairs.

One day, no doubt, she would have the same luxurious growth that her mother displayed, but for the moment, the shortest, finest hairs had begun to darken, rising from the apex of her folded lips to create the prettiest of shapes upon her ivory toned flesh.

“Now Emily! Stand straight, so the man can take your measurements,” I ordered as, blushing most adorably, her little hands hesitantly went to cover herself.

The tailor eagerly jumped to the task, an erection clearly visible in his trousers, and his breath sounding hot and laboured as he turned the child this way and that. In doing so, he surreptitiously fondled her budding breasts and the growing fullness of her bottom, before slyly moving his fingers back and forth between her thighs watching her expression as he awakened strange new feelings within the child.

“I think that is enough,” I warned him, as Sarah looked beseechingly towards me, Emily having risen to her toes, her breath shortening as his fingers flitted between her cunt and anus seeking the moisture of her essence for their perfume and taste.

******

Sarah remained subdued for the rest of the day although little Emily was quite the opposite. She shrugged off her ordeal in just moments, once she learnt that it would only be a day or two before the first of her new clothes would arrive.

Her eyes lit up with excitement when she heard that there would be loose fitting drawers of the finest damask silk, shifts of Arabic cotton and breast halters, her first, of the softest cotton from the North.

Also that there would be woollen stockings, a little waist corset and dresses in the French style for her mother, so that her condition wouldn’t show at least, not for a while longer.

The day wore on and evening descended. Fragrant smells rose from the kitchen to alert us that the time for dinner was fast approaching, and Rose rushed back and forth in her eagerness to ensure all was prepared in the dinning room.

She could ill afford more failures; especially after my inspection early that afternoon had revealed her poor attempts at dusting the house.

Sarah entered the parlour clearly ill at ease, her hands rubbing together and her face pale. I put aside my paper and looked at her, once again unable to stop myself from wondering who had impregnated her, my imagination bringing the image of some hairy man labouring between her raised thighs, his body a terrible contrast to the pale beauty of her flawless skin.

“What ails you?” I asked abruptly.

“Father,” she murmured, sitting on the edge of the settee, her back straight and her hands clasped on her lap. “Are you going to punish Emily for waking you this morning?” she asked.

“It had crossed my mind,” I admitted.

“She has never been punished before,” she revealed.

“Never been punished,” I marvelled.

What a delicious prospect, I thought. Having to guide the child into position. What expressions would pass across that little face as she was taught to dip her back, part her thighs and push her bottom out.

“I will, of course, offer myself up for payment of her carelessness,” Sarah murmured.

I chuckled and picked up my paper once more.

“Your bottom will be too sore to substitute for Emily’s, because I’ve not yet finished punishing you for you’re past actions. Anyway, it’s high time that child learnt to take responsibility for her actions,” I argued.

“But Father,” she pleaded, about to give me a dozen more reasons why I should use her as a substitute. I held my hand up, my attention on the newspaper in front of me.

“That’s enough! Go before I use the carriage whip!” I warned her.

As Sarah strode out, trembling and with frustrated anger, it occurred to me that she had been without a man to steer her wayward nature for too long. This posed a problem, and I thought hard about it until the bell rang, announcing that dinner was ready.

The meal was a mix of emotions. Emily, quite obviously unaware of the tradition of punishment and sexual servitude that I insisted upon in this household, talked excitedly about her new clothes, the colours and the fabrics, and if she could have her hair styled, and whether they could go out for a walk, and so on, and so on.

Her mother answered her with short answers often glancing my way in the hope the child’s exuberance would win me over. It didn’t. As the coffee arrived, I took Rose by the arm to stop her hurrying off, and advised her to prepare the library for the four of us.

“I shall need plenty of room,” I told her, watching her pretty face colour as she curtsied. “Must I go to bed after dinner, Mama? Couldn’t I stay up just a little while longer?” Emily pleaded.

Sarah licked her lips. “As it happens, your grandfather has invited you to the library after dinner. There are some things that he must impart to you,” she murmured.

“What sort of things, Grandfather?” she asked, all curiosity and inquisitiveness.

“Things pertaining to your role in life my girl,” I told her. “You are a Bennett, and that means Honour, Education and forbearance!” I explained.

“And you’ll teach me all these things, Grandfather?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” I told her, smiling at the image in my mind.

Emily was just the right height to be positioned so that her lovely bottom cheeks would part and colour deliciously under the barrage of implements at my disposal.

“Shall we go through and commence?” I asked Sarah.

“I can’t persuade you to change your mind?” she asked, her voice soft with the wealth of her feeling as her fingers rose to the neck of her dress, a little gesture that Emily wouldn’t understand but which told me that Sarah would do anything to save Emily from being punished.

“She must learn, just as you had to learn,” I explained, failing to see why my daughter was so against Emily being punished. Surely she knew that rarely if ever were my implements used to cause real pain but just to educate.

“Come along! It doesn’t do to keep the staff waiting,” I told her.

We went through to the library where Rose was already waiting for us, standing as she’d been taught, with her shinny black slippers tightly together and her hands on the starched apron tied tightly about her waist. Her hair was bound under the little white cap but could fall to the small of her back, once released.

“Now then,” I said, mostly for the benefit of Emily who, on entering the room, had rushed to sit in my favourite chair. I closed the door and they gave me their full attention.

“As the most senior member of this household it is my responsibility to educate those in my charge and to help them to further improve in their roles,” I explained. “Rose here, wants to be an accomplished housekeeper and therefore must learn to manage this household to my satisfaction,” I told them.

“How have you done today, Rose?” I asked.

The girl chewed her bottom lip for a moment, clearly disappointed in her achievements.

“My dusting was poor, Sir,” she answered.

“Indeed,” I agreed.

I strode over to the cabinet, extracting the small key from my breast pocket. Emily watched with great interest, Rose with an expression of real concern, as I opened the doors to reveal the implements within.

“Now then! Inadequate dusting,” I murmured to myself, hovering over several implements while Rose watched in anticipation.

I settled on a strap, a simple band of leather some eighteen inches long and an inch and a quarter wide. Some of the straps were only an inch wide, but I felt that the extra quarter of an inch made all the difference. The leather was of good quality, thick and supple, and a much better alternative to using my hand. Rose probably didn’t hold with my opinion as she licked her lips.

“Prepare yourself!” I ordered.

“You see!” I told Emily, diverting her wide-open eyes from the site of Rose’s undressing. “It has long been known that young girls, need a spur to help them to excel,” I argued.

“Whereas! Under your tutorage,” Sarah remarked.

“She strives to excel!” I replied, angry by Sarah’s interruption.

Emily’s curious eyes quickly returned to watch as Rose removed her uniform. Blushing under our combined attention my maid dutifully put her hands behind her back, and then shuffled her feet apart as she had been taught.

“Good girl!” I said, slapping the strap against the side of my leg just to hear the pleasant sound it made.

Rose curtsied and moved her thighs apart, enough to expose her young cunt whose lips were always so willing to divide around my cock, and ride long and hard all the way to Canterbury.

Parting her thighs even further she moved to the edge of the table and bent forward over it, her breath now short and sharp as she rested her lower arms along the polished surface.

“Now! You will notice that she parts her thighs and dips her back,” I told Emily, running the edge of the strap up her inner thighs to just below her exposed cunt.

“This is how I check for cleanliness!” I explained, watching Emily’s expression change as my fingers parted the cheeks of Rose’s bottom and slid along the cleft, where she quivered and panted as I traced her anal aperture.

Inhaling the fragrance, I nodded my approval and savoured the taste before confirming my satisfaction.

“Rose cleans herself at least twice a day,” I told a wide-eyed Emily.

Emily blushed and looked toward her mother. “Will I need to wash twice a day too, Mama?” she asked softly.

“When you are ready,” Sarah told her, her expression unreadable.

“Now then!” I said, holding the strap out to caress Rose’s offered bottom, sliding the leather over the firm young cheeks while, just below, her cunt hung suspended for all to see and admire.

“Six!” I announced and Rose groaned as I raised the strap to deliver the first stroke.

It was high up on her bottom but her flesh not being at its fullest there smarted, hence the gasp, as she clenched the cheeks to absorb the pain.

I waited for her to push her bottom out again, with her back properly dipped. Then, as soon as she was ready, I delivered the next, aiming that little bit lower in order to produce two bright parallel lines with a narrow piece of pale pink skin between them.

Rose probably didn’t appreciate my artistry or my marksmanship as she hissed through her teeth. The second stroke scolded her flesh and had her bottom rotating in the most delightful of ways.

The third was just above the apex of her bottom, and my stroke was somewhat harder as a result. Her little sob spoke of her pain, but our eyes were held by the way she clenched her thighs together for a few moments, squirming on one leg and panting loudly as she tried her best to overcome the surge of sensations entering her lower body.

“Come along now!” I urged.

With a whimper, she took up her station once more and I stroked the underside of her bottom, drawing the strap back so the tip could gently caress the light hairs sprinkled upon her vulva, drawing our attention to how her cunt had brightened since her punishment had commenced.

“The fourth then,” I said. I added to the pattern revealing itself on her bottom, the stroke taking Rose’s breath before she regained it to howl and dance in place, panting as the surge of sensation swept into her loins, her belly and chest.

“Only two more,” I murmured, caressing her with the strap while she shook and lowered her upper body for me. I made her wait, listening to her whimper and watching her shake.

My audience said nothing, but sat so alike, their backs straight and their hands clenched in their laps. Emily’s clasped hands actually pressed inwards in a most un-lady like fashion, and I made a note to test her, wondering to what degree she could moisten.

When I raised the strap again, it was to do so slowly, my attention on that of Rose as her breathing quickened and her trembling grew.

“Steal yourself,” I murmured, and she pushed her bottom out for me.

It landed perfectly, crossing both cheeks as they began to taper towards her thighs. The soft skin rippled as the leather struck and quickly brightened, half masked by Rose’s hands as she reached back with a loud cry and frantically rubbed her raging flesh.

“One more!” I reminded her.

“Yes Sir, yes Sir, thank you, Sir,” she gasped, reluctantly pulling her hands away to bend once more for me and if she shook before, she fairly quaked now.

Sarah reached for Emily and pulled her up onto her lap, surrounding her in her arms as she quivered with the sight of Rose’s educational punishment.

The last stroke remained, and it would be delivered at the very base of the girl’s bottom, where the cheeks divided to permit her cunt to curve outward.

Panting, mewing and shaking, Rose waited; flinching as I tapped the area I was about to strike.

Emily watched from within her mother’s embrace, mesmerised by Rose’s punishment, and Sarah was no less distracted by kissing the back of her daughter’s neck as she too watched and waited.

I raised the strap and Rose whimpered. It made no difference to the end result. The strap sped down to land upon the softest of bottom flesh, impacting loudly and solidly, solidly enough to bend inwards and land directly on her moistening cunt.

Rose’s cry was driven out of her with the force of the landing. Her hands sped between her thighs to caress her vulva, rubbing madly at the smarting flesh while the heat in her lovely bottom raged.

Stepping back, I let Emily and her mother view the sight of the maid striving to lessen the swelling pain in her rear. Her rubbing had not helped, so she squeezed her flesh and pulled at it, whimpering and panting, squirming uncontrollably while she did so.

It was certainly an entertaining sight, and I let her continue for a while, certain of its instructional value for Emily, before ordering her to desist and to stand in the corner of the room, facing the wall with her hands on her head.

That was where Rose stayed, her bottom tossing and turning with my inspired heat, until I told Emily to stand so her mother could rise and step towards me.

“And your misdeeds?” I asked my daughter.

She licked her lips, her eyes blinking as she forced herself not to look at Rose softly whimpering with the insidious sensations flowing through her loins in the corner.

“I have failed to give you the respect that you deserve,” she noted.

I nodded in agreement, hiding my surprise at her change in attitude.

“What punishment do you think you deserve for your lapse?” I asked, moving over to the cabinet to replace the strap, and wait for her suggestion.

There was a delight in watching her marvel at my fine collection of educational implements, the colour coming and going from her face in waves.

I wondered at her thoughts as she licked her lips and looked away from the cabinet towards me.

“The cane, Father,” she breathed. “The thin one,” she added.

I hesitated, wondering if she was certain, but took it down to hold and bend it while, nearby, Emily stared in open-mouthed horror.

“No mummy, you can’t, you can’t!” she wept, all of a sudden running forward to capture her mother around her skirts.

Sarah pried herself loose and knelt beside her weeping daughter, her eyes momentarily stopping on my own to silently beg my patience.

I gave it, albeit unwillingly.

As I cast the thin cane through the air to hear its shrill whistle, Sarah explained to her daughter that sometimes such things had to be endured. Emily nodded her understanding and let her mother lead her over to the little armchair she had once used as a child.

As Sarah stepped from her fallen skirts to stand naked before me, her face glowed. Her hands fairly shook as she refused to cover herself, and I permitted myself a moment of pleasure, looking at the full and heavy gourds of her breasts, her slightly rounded belly and the full thatching that covered her delightful cunt.

“You know the position,” I told her.

She stepped to the table and shuffled her feet apart, continuing to broaden her stance until her waist was low enough to allow her to bend forward and rest her elbows on the table. Bowing her head, she dipped her back and thrust her bottom out erotically, and directly towards her seated daughter.

I smiled at Emily as she stared wide-eyed at her mother’s bottom and the full-lipped cunt hanging like a ripe fruit, the curls creating a pleasant mask to the vermillion gash that slowly opened to our gaze.

“Three! To compliment those of last night,” I said, letting the cane slide over the fading welts and prodding one cheek from the other so that Emily might have a chance to view her mother’s clenching anus.

“What ever you decide, Father,” Sarah murmured.

“Have you remembered my early education in cleanliness?” I asked.

Emily’s breath was as loud as her mother’s as, with the cane under my arm, I held her still so I could edge my finger between her full lips to savour the warmth and sticky wetness of her cunt. Smeared with her essence, I then drew my finger back, grazing her vaginal mouth before seeking the entrance of her anus.

It clenched against the invasion of my fingertip. I didn’t force the issue, but drew it out to lift the coated finger to my nose to inhale the pleasant mixture of scents, and enjoy the taste, wondering if her pregnancy had contributed anything to the rich flavour that now filled my mouth.

“Good and clean,” I announced while also listening to my daughter recover her breath. I tapped the thin cane with vigour preparing her for the punishment she deserved. Then it came, delayed by a fraction as I swung it back and brought it down with some force.

Ah, how her fulsome bottom dented under the impact then bounced back, the red line already appearing, moments before her loud scream and uncontrolled squirming began.

“Do you think your mother is learning her lesson?” I asked Emily.

Little Emily nodded, her wide eyes staring at her mother’s offered bottom as it swayed back and forth, tossing with the need to dispel the fiery heat flowing into it.

I chuckled and placed the cane back against Sarah’s still squirming bottom. Like a signal, it quietened her, bringing her burning bottom to stillness while her panting and shaking raged on.

“Just two more,” I told her.

I teased her with both the words and deeds as I stroked and lightly slapped the cane upon her bottom, admiring the marks I had already placed upon her, as much as the smooth virginal skin that had yet to be marked.

A whimper came from the young woman, and I could quite imagine her misgivings as, having felt the shock of the first cut, she now knew she had to endure two more.

The second was not long in coming. The rapid little slaps against her bottom hardened, bringing her up onto her toes and, at that point, I delivered the second harsh stroke.

The shock of the pain was there to see in her expression, in her wide and unfocused eyes and her open yet silent mouth. It was there in the way she swayed forward and gripped the far side of the table.

Then, moments later, the keen of anguish escaped her tense throat, lasting for as long as her breath before she had to stop and inhale, a deep and shuddering breath.

The second line was vivid upon her full and weighty bottom, crossing both cheeks and lifting the soft skin to create a beautiful and tender welt that would last for days.

“One more,” I murmured, eager to see her bottom with all three lines upon its surface, all three vivid and bright, laid over the softly bruised remnants of the previous night’s punishment.

“Please, not so hard,” she whimpered.

“Do you want to learn?” I asked sternly. She took another shuddering breath, steadying herself before dipping her back and presenting me with her bottom once more.

The third would run below the last two and mark the tender underside of her bottom. The touch of the cane warning her and her breathing quickened. It tapped gently, my eyes sliding past it to the pouting cunt hanging so accessible between her thighs.

“You may relieve yourself,” I told her. For a moment she was still, just her panting to tell me that she had heard. Then her hand appeared between her thighs to press flattened fingers to her vulva and roughly pull the flesh back and forth, as a comfort against the third stroke that had yet to come.

I let Emily watch her mother masturbate shamelessly, rotating her fingers more and more aggressively against the pulpy flesh of her cunt, and I just knew from the look on the child’s face that she understood perhaps from own experience what her mother was doing.

Only then did I strike, the cane kissing her bottom like the strike of an snake, quick and sharp, to have her crying out and struggling with the pain, her hand working fervently upon her cunt while the welt blossomed upon her pale bottom cheeks.

“Stand!” I ordered.

Sarah stood; whimpering softly, her face and breasts glowing, and her nipples standing like sentries at their posts.

“Well done,” I told her, putting the cane aside. “Now! Do you want to assist with Emily’s punishment, or to stand in the corner along side Rose and just listen to her screams?” I teased.

“I’ll help,” she whispered, reluctantly removing her fingers.

“Emily” Come here,” I ordered. “Tell me! Have you done anything that requires punishment?” I asked curtly.

Sarah knelt at her daughter’s side and whispered in her ear, knowing that failing to mention something she had done wrong would certainly result in a much harsher punishment. Emily listened attentively and licked her lips, her blushing face turning pale.

“I made too much noise this morning, waking you and disturbing the household,” she mumbled.

“Yes, you did! What punishment do you think that merits?” I asked.

Emily cast a glance at the discarded cane and licked her lips.

“The cane?” she replied, her voice quiet with her anxiety.

“No! Perhaps if you were to repeat your mistake, I might use it, but not for your first offence,” I explained.

I stepped over to the cabinet and cast an eye over what implements I had at my disposal. There were, among the items in my collection, a number of lighter implements, some of which I hadn’t used since Sarah was a little girl.

They were a scaled down version of the other implements. Half sized and much more tender, as they struck with a far different sensation to the fiery pain and throbbing heat of the others. I settled on the martinet and watched as Sarah licked her lips with the memory of its ability to seek out even the most delicate of places.

“Come! Let’s get you ready!” Sarah murmured breathlessly, turning her daughter to reach for the top button of her dress. As I fetched the child’s armchair and placed it next to the table, I watched as Sarah undressed Emily, taking a rare delight in her pale and slender body that appeared from under her old and worn clothes.

“Now! You must be good and stay still,” Sarah said as she turned the child’s back towards me and, in doing so; gave me the opportunity to feast my eyes upon the lovely little bottom I was about to whip.

Emily glanced towards me, her eyes large and fearful as her mother drew her nervously towards the armchair and then helped her to climb up and place a knee on each arm as she had done when she was a child.

Much too small to rest on her elbows, she pressed her tummy to the cold surface of the table, and whimpered, as she realised that the position had left her so rudely exposed.

I caressed the soft strands of the martinet and recalled the last time I had used it upon Sarah. I had made her lie on her back in the same armchair, her knees held to her chest, unwittingly offering her cunt and anus to the kiss of the same little whip.

Now it was going to tickle the little bottom of my granddaughter and, possibly, if my aim was true, strike her cunt and anus just like her mother’s so many years ago.

“Be brave sweetheart!” Sarah murmured, kneeling beside her daughter and stroking her hair.

I watched as Sarah stroked the child’s hair, then my attention turned to her delightful little bottom, now so widely parted and without the fatty underside to obscure her finely curved pudendum.

The martinet was soft, and probably the softest I possessed. Yet by holding it by the end I could put pressure on the handle to release the strands and add strength to my stroke, enough to have the little girl gasping and squirming as they sent darting sensations into her cunt and anus.

It was a picture to remember, moving from one side of her to another to attack her from different angles. Sarah stopped her from rising or reaching back, as she tossed and turned, her attempts to hide herself forgotten, the sensations she felt soon turned to a lingering pain.

Sarah held her wrists and comforted her, telling her to relax and allow it to pass through her, to absorb the heat and rise with it.

My strikes moved and the tips darted in rapidly to bring pain to the soft flesh between her thighs. Her hips rotated with a new vigour as she tried in vein to rid herself of the tingling sensations swarming through her.

Startled gasps escaped her throat; followed by high-pitched squeals as new sensations raged in her cunt. I knelt behind her and flicked the martinet across the base of her bottom, the strands now finding her anus and bringing new sensations.

Each stroke brought a new cry, followed by loud attempts to recover her breath while her body shook and squirmed.

I aimed lower, and her cunt received the full force of the whip.

“Mummy!” she squealed, as she tossed and turned failing to escape neither the second stroke, nor the third or fourth, her tender skin beginning to glow and open.

I stood, my own breath laboured from the sight of her prettiness so exposed.

“Teach her to relieve herself,” I told Sarah.

Sarah swallowed and released Emily’s wrist, murmuring instructions to her on what to do. Emily didn’t hesitate, her thoughts too clouded by the burning sensations to consider just how naughty she was going to be.

Whatever the circumstances, her fingers quickly slipped between her thighs just as she had seen her mother do. In moments, spurred on by her mother’s soft whispers, she was masturbating, whimpering in her need and gasping as she found some pleasure at last to defer the pain.

I spurred her on, flicking the martinet lightly against that area of her body where anus and cunt gathered. Gasping, her fingers redoubled their efforts, her bottom lifting in an effort to give her the space to masturbate effectively.

I sensed her need and delivered the last flick of the martinet, then stood still to hear her wail, and to listen to her mother praise her actions.

She had done better than her mother when she was her age and I nodded my understanding before telling them to gather their clothes and go to bed.

Alone with my maid, I examined the results of my efforts, probing the still blushing flesh and forcing her thighs apart in order to uncover the wetness within.

“What a sinful girl you are!” I murmured, anointing my fingers with her slippery warm wetness.

“May I pray, Sir,” she asked, her breath caught in her throat as my finger massaged the little corrugated ring of her anus.

“Pray well,” I advised.

As Rose dropped to her knees and swivelled towards me I felt a drop in room temperature but soon put it to the back of mind.

Looking up at me, lest my face show any displeasure or such like, she reached for my trousers, her agile fingers working with precision to open each button and leave the fabric agape.

With a deft touch, she released my cock, and then pressed her palms to either side of it before bringing her mouth over the tip. Then, she mumbled her prayer, the movement of her lips and tongue having the affect I desired, stirring me into full hardness.

“That’s it, girl. Pray that the devil doesn’t engulf you. Pray that you’ll learn obedience and deferment,” I teased.

I closed my eyes and recalled the vivid images of the past moments, Emily’s being the clearest and most vivid.

I recalled the way she masturbated herself attempting with innocence to conquer her pain, the tendons of her thighs stretched painfully as they supported her knees astride the armchair.

“Ah, yes!” I hissed, pulsing with the release Rose had brought on.

The girl stopped her prayers to hastily drink the essence she had succoured, swallowing as it was jettisoned, until just the job of cleaning was left which her tongue did adequately.

“Good girl,” I said.

Turning away I noticed the door slowly close.

“Tomorrow I must see to the draft in here,” I told her.