Ghost train
Synopsis
Eric is waylaid by a disfigured wandering spirit that takes him back to her time period in the mid nineteenth century and shows him some of the cruelties of that time.

Please take note!
The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only. 
MF FF NC
If you are a minor or offended by such material or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now. 
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc.
Copyright 2002
Ghost Train
by obohobo
Chapter 1. Ghost train
Eric trudged wearily along the disused railway line, not understanding why he should feel so tired. It was only twelve miles from his starting point and less than two miles to his home. As a regular walker, this was not much more than half he would normally do in a day and being an old railway, there were no steep gradients. Neither was it a case that he’d had a late night. Granted he’d spent a couple of hours watching his new DVD “Slave to the Sheik” and wanking but once he had shot his load for a second time, he switched the machine off and went to bed well before midnight.
In the 1860’s when railway building was at its height, the line had been put in to give fast access from the fishing ports of Lowestoft and Yarmouth to the markets in London. Locals called it affectionately the Cod and Plaice Line. By 1960 its use had declined and came under the axe with cuts implemented by Dr. Beeching. For many years the line just lay undisturbed, gradually becoming overgrown with brambles and birch scrub. As a millennium project it was decided to open twenty miles of the route to walkers. Funds were raised and volunteers cleared the scrub, opened the one tunnel and checked the bridges were still safe. Now it was a popular pathway for hikers, dog walkers and off-road cyclists.
Eric, living close to the line and nearer one end, had been a scrub clearance volunteer and walked the whole route a number of times. Today he took the bus to the start and was walking home in the bright September sunshine. It seemed a long drag up the incline to the short tunnel and by the time he emerged his rucksack felt like lead. 
“What is wrong with me today?” he thought. A few yards further on he stopped and sat on the bank of the cutting. “I feel as if I am carrying a great load and yet there is only a few things in my pack. It’s almost as if I am being pulled back. I’m only 45 and still fit. Perhaps I am coming down with a cold or a virus.” The sheltered cutting acted as a suntrap. Eric, hot from his exertions and combined with the warm air, felt tired and momentarily closed his eyes and dozed. 
Startled awake, he tried to attune to the sound. “Sounds like a train.” “Can’t be.” “No rails.” The ground began to vibrate with gradually increasing frequency and volume. “Sounds like an old train snorting up the bank to the tunnel.” Eric could not believe what his senses were telling him. Shaking his head still didn’t remove the sounds. “What is it? Can’t be a train.” A whistle sound; an old steam type whistle. Sensing something unusual, Eric stood and peered back into the tunnel just in time to see the light at the other end partly obscured by a train outline. Smoke blotted his vision but the sounds came on. Having reached the top of the incline, the locomotive was picking up speed. It emerged with a roar and Eric glimpsed the form of an engine he had only seen in museums. Smoke hung thickly in the air as the carriages passed. Obviously some were freight but towards the rear were passenger coaches.
A woman was at an open window and directly as she passed where Eric stood, she threw herself from the train. He watched with horror as she flew towards him before instinct took over and he tried to grab and break her fall. As he caught her, so he fell backwards. “That’s strange, she had no weight.” What was even stranger, the body on top of him seemed to deflate into almost a jelly-like mass that smothered him and pinned him to the ground. Eric was panic-stricken. Trying to get up, he found his body too seemed like jelly and did not allow him any purchase on the ground. He could only lie there.
Slowly the form began to inflate or solidify itself again and as it did so, the surroundings changed too. “Lie still for a few minutes.” The woman spoke with a cultured voice but with a somewhat old-fashioned intonation. “It will all seem strange to you for a while.”
Looking closely at the woman for the first time, he assessed her to be around forty years old, with a badly scarred face and dressed in clothes of a past era. He looked past her and saw metal rails, their surfaces shining with use. The brickwork at the tunnel looked fresh and new and the banks were freshly cut grass. “What? Who? What’s happening? It’s a dream. But it can’t be. It’s too vivid and there are smells. I can smell the grass. What’s happening?” Turning to the woman he asked, “Who are you?”
“Lady Violet Theyer, but you can call me Violet or in the strange ways of the 21st century you may even shorten it to Vi. As to what is happening, ‘tis a long story and we have but one hour and ten minutes to get well away from here.”
“Wh...?”
“No time for explanations now, we must get to our house.” Taking his hand she clambered up the bank, climbed a wooden fence, and set off across the fields in the direction of his house. Eric couldn’t believe his eyes. He recognised some buildings, the church of St. Mary to his left and Red House Farm but there were only tracks where there should have been roads and more houses. In the distance he saw a group of workers with scythes cutting wheat. Again he tried to question the woman but she just dragged him on, keeping most of the time to the shadows. 
Half an hours walk and they arrived at his house but it wasn’t the house as he knew it. It looked like the painting he kept in the dining room, painted in 1874. Outside stood a pump where the conservatory should have been, cobbles instead of a neat patio. Violet went straight to the back door and led Eric inside. 
“Please sit down Eric. May I call you Eric? Mr. Thacker seems too formal for what I am going to ask of you although for the era we are now in, that is the accepted form of address. Eric nodded dumbly. Violet went on. “What I am about to tell you may seem like science fiction but it is actually happening. Just look around you. All the pots in the kitchen are real, the kitchen range has a fire that is burning and water is simmering on the top. It is real. What will be difficult for you to understand is the date. This house is not a museum reconstruction. It is your house or rather, at the moment, my house, and the year is 1866. September 28th 1866.”
“But, but how...?”
“Wait Eric, as I said it is a long story, one that I will take you through gradually. For now be assured I can and will take you back to 2002, but first I must put a request to you.” Eric looked at the strange woman. Despite her distorted face, she had a serene beauty that he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Eric, I know you are a writer, a writer of erotic fiction with what is known in your time as a BDSM theme. What I am asking you to do is to write a true BDSM story. My story. I want to set the record straight. I want my husband, and at this point in time he is still alive, to be revealed for the cruel, murderer he really is. I did not jump from that train, as all the newspaper reports will say. I was thrown!”
“Look Violet, I am still so confused. How did I get back to this time, if it is really is 1866? Why should I believe you? What’s in it for me? How do I get back to reality? Why.....?” Eric shook his head. “What is happening to me?”
“Hush Eric please, you’ll believe me because you will see things with your own eyes. You then get to write the story and have it published. You will get paid for that and secondly, from watching you for some time now, I know you have a desire to be a master and have a little slave girl. Well I am not so little, not as young or as beautiful as your mind may desire but I will let you be my master provided you agree to write the story and expose my husband. I know that by then he will be long dead and forgotten but some historian may read it and correct the record. How do you get back to your own time? Easily. You hold my hand and I take you. I am a wandering spirit. For now though, we are safe enough here and it will add atmosphere if I begin with the events of a few hours ago in this time, September 26th 1866, and how I became a wandering spirit.”

Chapter 2. Back to 1866
“First though, I should make my master a meal. You walked a long way today and with me doing my best to hold you back for a long part of the journey, you must be hungry. You should be tired but I expect the adrenaline from the excitement has overcome that.” Violet busied herself at the stove.
“Won’t whoever owns this house at this time come back and find us?”
“I own this house and have done so for a little while. It was supposed to be a country retreat if I was threatened at The Beeches which is, or should I say was, my main home. I can alter events in time to a very limited extent and then only by indirect means, but if they are officially recorded, then the records have to remain.”
After eating, Eric began to feel more comfortable with his ‘ghost woman’. She ate like a normal person and she had to piss and shit or at least she visited the outhouse. Violet took a seat opposite Eric ready to begin her tale but Eric had other ideas. As much as he wanted to hear her story, it had been a long while since he’d actually had a woman alone and this close to him. For some years he’d been content, if that was the right expression, to watch porno films, read and write erotic books and to wank himself off. Now he had a woman, even if she was a rather strange person, who had said he was her master.
“Come and sit next to me,” Eric ordered, “I want to hold you. I want to feel you and listen at your breasts to see if you really breathe.”
“Yes, Master.”
“None of that Master business, Vi. I’m Eric. I will write your story but much as I like to write and read about masters and slaves, that isn’t real life. Or is this real life? It feels real but I’m still not certain it isn’t a dream.”
Violet sat alongside Eric and barely flinched when he put his hands on her breasts. They felt normal. Warm. Tender. Unlacing the front of her dress, Eric released them from confinement and kneaded them. They felt real enough especially as the nipples became erect from his attentions. Taking a nipple in his mouth he suckled it gently and then nipped it between his teeth, which brought a sharp cry of pain. “How real do you need it to be, Eric? I know it must seem very strange to you at the moment, but the flesh is real, the pain I felt was real. The smell of my breasts is real as was the food we ate, and the fire that burns in the grate. All that has changed for you is the time period.”
Eric’s cock had responded in a real manner to the stimulation of having a pair of tits in his face. It pressed hard against the material of his trousers. “If she is a normal woman and my slave, then I should be able to fuck her,” he thought. Aloud he said, “Come to the bedroom, I need to see if you are a woman in other places.”
The bed was different as was the furniture, the floor was bare wood and the walls whitewashed and on them hung two embroidered religious text pictures. Eric hardly took in the details until later.
Slowly he undid all the buttons and lacing on her long black dress and removed it. Underneath she wore petticoats and these too he removed until finally she was down to her long French knickers. Eric paused for a short while and stared at the erotic sight before him. He’d seen plenty of naked girl pictures on the net displaying all their charms but this was so old fashioned and different. Her pure white flesh, her full mature figure quickly gave him an erection. “Take them off,” he ordered as he quickly undressed. “Are you ready for this?” he asked holding and showing Violet his well-endowed prick.
“I have been ready for it many times but could not show myself. I could only watch as you manipulated it in front of the computer screen.”
“You watched me wanking?” Somehow the thought embarrassed him.
“Many times. And I noticed what pictures turned you on most. This situation took a long while to set up and I needed to get to know about you. I saw the caned bottoms you liked so much so I know what I am letting myself in for but in many ways I had no choice. No one else suitable lived in this area. Often I was so turned on by watching you I wanted to materialise and show myself but couldn’t and neither could I play with myself until I materialised in another time. It was very frustrating.” 
Slowly she slid the knickers down and stepped out of them. Eric’s eyes feasted on the alabaster flesh and the dark bush covering her crotch area. He moved the oil lamp to see better. It revealed a body marred not only by the horrific facial scarring which somehow that no longer worried him, but a body covered with a network of fading whip marks. 
“Who did this? When?”
“All in good time Eric. It’s all part of the story. A long story. First though, let’s both get rid of our frustrations.” She caught Eric’s hand and led him to the stuffed feather bed. In no time they were fucking away as though their lives depended on it. Eric because he hadn’t fucked a woman for over a year; Violet couldn’t really tell how long because it depended on which time zone she was in. As of 28th September 1866 it was only a month or so but it seemed more like the reality of 135 years.
It wasn’t long before the spunk rose in Eric’s balls and he remembered to ask, “Will I make you pregnant if I come inside you?”
“I doubt it although I did try to take precautions when my husband’s friends had me but many times I was unable too and never became pregnant so there may be other reasons why I couldn’t conceive. In any case I don’t think wandering souls can bear children.” 
All too soon his load was released into her. Both were a little disappointed but Violet took charge of the situation. “Just lie and cuddle me for a while and soon you’ll be ready for a longer session. Then we can talk of more serious things.”
Lying in each other's arms Eric again noticed the facial scarring and ran his fingers over the deformed skin. “How did this happen?” he enquired.
“Oil lamp overturned when I was a baby. In many ways that was the cause of all the troubles in my life. Had that not happened and I had a normal face, I wouldn’t have been forced into an unwanted marriage and my life could have been completely different. My face doesn’t seem to bother you though.”
“No, not now. It probably would have twenty years ago when I was looking around for Miss Right but as I have grown older and seen and talked and worked with disabled people I have learned to treat and see them as people; to see the personality behind the disability. Provided a scarring of your mind does not mirror the scarring on your face, and it doesn’t seem to, then I don’t have a problem with it. In my era they could cure it with plastic surgery.” Leaning over he kissed her first on the disfigured skin and then on her lips. Holding him tightly, she opened her mouth and slid a tongue between his teeth. It was followed by a royal battle of tongues as each fought to gain access to the others throat. Laughing they pulled apart. The stimulation had hardened Eric’s cock again. Both were ready for a cock and cunt battle.
Violet gripped her legs behind the knees and pulled them to her ears. Eric climbed between them, inserted his cock and plunged it fully in. As his pubic hair contacted hers, she lowered her legs on his shoulders and began to meet his thrusts. “Harder, harder,” she cried, “It’s been so long and I don’t have to pretend I am enjoying it.” Amid further groans and pleas, Eric kept thrusting forcefully but each time he neared ejaculation he eased off until his partner had climaxed three times and he could hold back no longer. Sweating profusely he collapsed panting and exhausted on top of her. 
“Vi, you were great. You seem very experienced. I thought the Victorians were very staid people.”
“Some were, at least on the surface. Underneath there were some very sordid things done. I was forced to learn many of these things to keep my husband from debtor’s prison.”

Chapter 3. A wandering soul
“If I was in my own time, I would go for a shower now and take you with me. Here there is only a basin and pitcher of cold water. Still we can rub each other dry with these soft cloths.” 
Each got to see the others body in some detail during the drying. Eric once more remarked on the welts across covering her flesh. Again he was told to be patient. Dressing in loose robes, they returned to the kitchen and sat around the fire.
“I can make tea if you like.”
“I thought tea was horribly expensive at this time.”
“It is but in my wandering, I get to bring back things from one time zone to another. I cannot bring much and I cannot bring anything that I wouldn’t actually find in this time. Nor can I pay for what I get so the tea is actually yours and I stole it on one of my visits. I guess you must have been puzzled when you found the only packet of loose tea in your cupboard was empty. I couldn’t take the tea bags, they aren’t made for another century or so.”
“Oh, you little thief. Yes, I did wonder about the tea. I could not remember using it and knew it couldn’t be mice. In the end I blamed some workmen who did a job in the house. You ought to have your bum smacked for that.” Suiting actions to his words, Eric pulled the woman over his knee, lifted her robes and gave her a mock spanking until they were both laughing and Violet was squealing with pretence hurt. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he stated, “Next time you can expect it to be worse but tonight I cannot wait any longer to find out about how you came to be a wandering soul.”
“Well it is really starting at the end of the story but I doubt if you will understand the beginning if you cannot accept the concept of souls wandering through time. It is a very rare occurrence and usually produces what most people would call a ‘ghost’.”
“I know many in the twenty-first century do not believe people have a soul. Let me assure you that they have. Only ghosts if you want to call me one, can vouch for that with certainty. When you die, within seconds your soul is collected by unseen beings and taken to another place which some call heaven. In actual fact it is a sort of storage place and when a new baby is born, a rejuvenated soul is taken from storage and starts a new life in the baby. Very occasionally the soul of a dead person is missed and they become a ghost. A being that is neither alive nor dead. Most just stay in one place, usually the place they should have fully died but a few can wander around both in space and time. This is the case with me.”
“I thought this soul business a lot of twaddle but now you are wanting me to believe it is true,” Eric interrupted.
“Oh yes, it is true alright. The main difference between the religion I was brought up to believe and the actuality is there is no heaven and no hell. I told you earlier I didn’t jump from the train; my husband threw me out. I was murdered or he thought he had killed me. And I should be dead too. It was all due to a split second mistake on his part.
I told you he married me for money. He was an inveterate gambler and lost huge sums of money at cards or racing. While my father was alive, I was relatively safe because although he was fairly generous in giving if I asked for it for a specific purpose, he refused to prop up his debts. In fact both my parents went on an extended trip to Italy soon after my marriage and I didn’t see them for a number of years. When he couldn’t get the money from my family, Geoffrey, my husband, loaned me to his friends for payment or used as collateral in his card games. In both cases it was my body that earned the money and as I wasn’t a pretty young thing, they wanted more than just sex for payment.
Then two years ago mother died and ten months later father met with a riding accident which I later found out through my wanderings, wasn’t an accident but murder made to look like one. I inherited the estate and the money. Lord Geoffrey, my husband, now knew that if I died he would get the whole of it for himself. At first he just whipped me until I paid whatever debt he had or whatever item he wanted but I moved into my fathers house and he wasn’t able to get at me. But on the fateful 26th September, I attended a funeral of the mother of a friend in Lowestoft. Geoffrey must have known this and arranged to travel back at the same train.
He heard of my plans to attend several days before and travelled to and from Lowestoft on the previous day it must have been then that the plan was drawn up. I had a first class ticket and so did he. It was only at the last minute did he jump on the train and with very few first class travellers I found myself alone in a whole compartment with him. I hoped someone else would join us and when one couple did try and enter our compartment, Geoffrey pleaded that we had just attended the funeral of a dear relative and could we be allowed to grieve alone. They moved to the next. I pleaded with him not to cause trouble but he just smiled and sat opposite me.
We sat almost in silence but I noticed he frequently opened his pocket watch to check the time. A mile or so before we came to the tunnel, which I didn’t know was there, Geoffrey lowered the window, ‘to let some air in and blow the cobwebs away’. He had a bit of a struggle to get the leather belt from over the brass stud but the window itself slid down easily enough. When we entered the tunnel, smoke poured in and I immediately tried to raise the glass again and succeeded in getting it halfway up before he gave me a vicious clout and said to leave it. It took him a few seconds to lower it and then I felt him grab my wrists and feet and propel me head first through the opening. However, by then we had just emerged from the tunnel and landed on the grass of the cutting. The speed of train caused me to roll quite a way and I ended in some tangled undergrowth where the thick smoke lingered.
Unbeknown to anyone, a drunken woman tramp had lain down in the warm grass in the sunshine to sleep off the effects of liquor. She was there when the soul collectors came and in the smoke they took her soul, not mine. I had died but my soul or spirit hadn’t left me. I was dead but still alive. My body felt sore and bruised but I could still walk and I knew I had to get away. What I didn’t know then was that people couldn’t see me. I made my way to this house which I had bought for other purposes and which Geoffrey didn’t know of. Frightened and exhausted I lay down on the bed in the other room. The place was deserted and hadn’t been lived in for a while.”
An hour or so later I was woken by the voice of the soul collector who apologised for what happened. The tramp woman had been found and it was decided she had died of a stroke so they kept her soul and didn’t need mine but I couldn’t be declared dead because I had my soul and I wasn’t really alive either. It all seemed unbelievable but the voice went on to explain about wandering souls and how I would keep on living a pseudo real life until I really did die. That might not be for centuries. It went on to explain how I could move forwards and backwards in time; how I couldn’t alter anything that was officially recorded; how I could only make myself into a real solid person in this present time unless my body melded with one from another era and how to remain more or less invisible. Only when, as now, I am a solid person am I living a real life and heading towards the end of my natural life span. While I am non visible, I can live for ever.”
“So at the moment you are wasting your life away with me?” Eric enquired.
“It is no waste, Eric dear. That is living. A ghost’s life can be quite boring. How would you like to watch your life on a multi-channeled TV set? You could watch but do little to alter the programme content. That is what life has been like for me for the last 135 years. It was interesting at first when I could go over my life and follow the lives of others. That’s how I found out about Geoffrey. I also found out how he got away with my murder although it did not work out quite the way he expected.”
“After he had thrown me out,” Violet continued her narrative, “He crawled along the corridor under the level of the glass windows, to the toilet. On the way back he walked passed the next carriage and touched his hat to the occupants, opened the door and thanked them for giving us some time alone. He told them I was still very upset. As soon as he returned to our carriage he expressed grief and horror at finding the window open and my not being there. It took some time to locate the guard and he refused to try and stop the train. They had a lot of fish in the freight wagons and it had to get to London on time. He did eventually agree to stop the train at the next station and Geoffrey arranged with the stationmaster to get back to the site. It took them nearly an hour and a half to return to the tunnel. By then I was gone and they only found the body of the woman tramp. Everyone talked of it as a great mystery. How could I have disappeared? I must be alive but although the surroundings were searched, including this house, nothing was found. There was another theory. I didn’t jump from the train but hid somewhere until the train reached its destination or somewhere in between. You can read the story in the archives of Times and other old newspapers.
From Geoffrey’s point of view, it was a disaster. As there was no body, I couldn’t be declared dead and he couldn’t get at my money or estate. He believed there would be a wait seven years for that and then a cousin of mine might dispute his right to it and perhaps a long court battle before it was shared out. He needed money immediately. I had other plans and went back to The Beeches and showed myself to the staff so they knew I was alive.
All this because the window belt stud was tight. Had I been thrown out a few seconds earlier, I would certainly have hit the tunnel walls and definitely killed and my soul taken.”
Next morning Eric awoke, turned over to look at the digital clock and couldn’t see it. Reaching out for the light his arm touched the naked woman alongside him and he remembered. It wasn’t a dream. The caressing touch woke her. She turned to kiss him and felt the piss hard cock touch he belly. “You feel like you are ready for another bout,” she whispered while stroking the rigid pole.
“I need to piss. Guess I have to find my way to the outhouse in this age.”
“There’s the pot under the bed,” Violet reminded him, “and there’s a candle by the bed.”
Dawn was just breaking and by the feint light coming through the windows, he fumbled and found the long matches and lit the candle. It cast a yellow glow over the woman alongside him and cast shadows that emphasised the scars on her face. Kissing them, her mouth and her breasts he crawled over her and found the chamber pot. Turning his back to her and kneeling he was about to start the flow, when she asked him to turn and face her way. 
“Eric, dear,” she said, “I have spent many hours watching you when you didn’t know I was there. I have seen what you do in bed, at the computer and on the toilet so you have nothing to hide from me just because you can actually see me now. Last night we did very intimate things to each other. Let’s not get embarrassed by simple body functions. I not only want to watch, I want to feel it too which is something I couldn’t do when in my un-solid state.” Suiting action to words, Violet slipped out of bed and knelt on the other side and lightly held his cock. It was still semi rigid but she was able to bend it sufficiently to aim it inside the bowl but it took a little while before the flow started. 
Eric, unused to being so close to undiluted piss, was somewhat surprised at the strong smell. Violet shook his cock when the stream abated and then gave the foreskin a few rubs. There was a slight coating of urine on it from the splashing so she lifted it to her mouth and suckled it. It both delighted and surprised Eric. Remarking on it he was taken back when she said, “As you will see in your travels with me, I have been made to do much worse.”
Taking her turn to pee in the pot, when she finished Eric decided he should perform the same service on her. His tongue found the piss soaked hair and licked around the entrance to her slit. "I've wrote about doing this many times he thought but have never actually experienced it," he thought. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected and soon his tongue probed the entrance to her cunt before his lips closed around her clitoris. Both were now very aroused and before long she was bent over the edge of the bed while he took he doggie style.
“Do you mind it this way?” Eric asked.
“Just do it Eric, I have had it every possible way, in every hole by men and women who had no love for me. For them I was just a means of getting some sexual satisfaction. You at least seem to care.”
*****
“Eric?” They sat around the kitchen stove having had breakfast and washed the dishes. “Are you ready for this?” She was silent for a few moments and Eric waited for her to continue. “Until last night, I had no real feelings for you. From what I had seen of your behaviour, I just thought of you as a writer who liked seeing cruel things done to a woman. After last night, I find that was just on the surface. Underneath you are tender and loving and I have begun to have feelings for you. Feelings I have rarely had before. Feelings you seem to have for me. When I came into your life I just wanted a writer that could put the record of my life straight, to show my life in a very graphical way and to point out that I was murdered and did not try to commit suicide. I knew I would have to give my body in return but I had been forced to do that so many times before that I could not possibly matter. Now I am not so sure.”
Violet paused as Eric put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Looking into his eyes, she went on, “If I take you back and show you what I did and what was done to me, you might be so repulsed and disgusted by it all that you see, you won’t want to see more than that one fleeting glimpse. I know I can take you unwillingly but after last night I feel less inclined to do that. You will see me, and others too, whipped and crying out in pain. It will be real pain, the cries will be real, not the fakes of your videos and I suspect you will want to interfere. You can’t. All you can do is watch and remember that I will be alongside you and the pain you see me in and the actions I am made to perform are in the past.”
“You mean you are going to take me and show things that happened to you and you are going to have to watch and re-live the whole thing? How can you stand it?”
“Yes. It is a very strange experience to watch yourself as if on a film being tortured and abused. At first I was very traumatised as it brought back memories of the horror but I have been through it so many times. Now that I sort of shut out the person, perhaps like you do when watching things on your computer but you will be seeing it for the first time and it is your reactions I am worried about. I am concerned it may affect your whole life. You may be so totally disgusted with what I did you will never wish to see me again” She paused and Eric was lost for words. He had no idea how he would react to seeing someone he had become attached to being hurt, raped and possibly worse as she had hinted. Eventually he told her so.
Both were silent for some minutes before Violet went on, “You probably know the times I lived in were far more cruel than your time period. Whippings were accepted as the normal form of punishment. I think for our first journey back, I will show you some of the things I saw happening to others. At the time I only glimpsed part of the scenarios but we can see everything, particularly the beating and rape of servants, which went on even in the best-run houses. After you have seen these early life stories, I will take you back to your time and you can decide whether to continue or whether you would prefer it if I went out of your life and left you alone completely. This whole thing would just become as a dream.”
“Vi, after last night I want to be with you always if that is possible. I could probably even get used to the crude sanitation and facilities here if I had to.”
“That’s easy enough to say now, wait until you see some of the things I did and were done to me. First though, we will go back to 1839 to my first experience of sex. I was 13 years old. No, I didn’t have sex at that age but I did witness it. You have to remember, sex was a taboo subject then. It was not mentioned by my parents or by my governess. I knew it existed in a vague sort of way from what I heard from servants' children who were far more educated than I was on that particular subject. Remember too that I was a disfigured girl, who hid herself away from others at much as possible. In any case many of the servants children thought I was a witch and kept away from me. So let us go back to my father’s house on an estate near Chelmsford. He was an industrialist specialising in ironwork especially iron bridges and with the expansion of the railways he was a wealthy man; wealthier than many of the titled gentlemen. Hold my hand.”

Chapter 4. A servant’s punishment
Clasping her hand and shaking with both trepidation and excitement, Eric felt his body and clothing lose it solidity and turn to a jelly-like mass and become transparent. Violet too changed her form. He could see her as vague outlines in the air. “Are you ready?” Violet’s voice came through clearly even though he couldn’t see her face.
“Yes...s..s. I guess so.” At that moment he felt his fluid body distort as air rushed by. Moments later he stood on a well-manicured lawn in front of a large house. “Is this the place?” Eric whispered to his barely visible outlines of his companion.
“It is okay to talk normally. Only we will be able to hear each other and while to our eyes our outlines are visible, to those in this time we are totally invisible. Come inside. Father and mother are away and my governess is at her aunts for a week.”
Violet gave him a grand tour of the house, showing him items from her childhood, naming the servants they passed. Eric again wanted to whisper in their presence but when Violet talked normally and the servants just carried on sweeping or dusting, Eric too spoke normally, apart from the excited tone he couldn’t control. 
Stopping at the foot of the stairs they watched a gawky young girl quietly and furtively descend. From the facial deformities, Eric instinctively knew it was Violet. They followed as she made her way towards the kitchen.
“You lazy, good for nothing girl!” Cook’s voice came through as the young Violet opened the door. “These pans are still filthy and yet you put them away as though they were clean.”
“I’m sorry Cook,” the tearful voice of a maid drifted through, “I thought...”
“You didn’t think! And you will be sorry! This isn’t the first time I’ve had cause to reprimand you for laziness.” Cook continued to berate the young girl for some minutes seemingly getting angrier for the voice rose even louder. 
“I’m sorry Cook....” the girl stammered again. Eric and Violet moved into the kitchen to witness the scene. Violet pointed out the young Violet hiding in a store cupboard amid the blankets and was peeping through a crack in the woodwork.
“You will be very sorry,” Cook went on, “when Thompson here has given your arse a good birching.”
“No Cook, please not the birch!”
“It’s for your own good girl. Perhaps it will remind you to do your work properly in future.” Turning to Thompson the butler, she said, “Lay it on good and well as I am sure you will and if you want a little pleasure after, I will turn a blind eye....”
“You may be sure, I will do a good job on her arse, Cook. She’s been a bit sassy with me lately too.” Thompson was a lean, mean looking man in his late forties. As a junior boy in service he’d often been beaten, Since his promotion to butler and head of the household staff he could exercise the same power over his underlings and he very much enjoyed doing so especially when the recipient of his attentions was young and female. Cook he knew from his not infrequent visits to her bedroom, came from a similar background and as a junior had suffered at the hands of the master’s son who ravished her after each thrashing.
“Millie, go to the cellar and bring up the pot of birches. And be quick about it.” Sobbing, Millie left the kitchen and returned a few minutes later carrying a heavy vase-like container with several bound birch rods soaking in brine.
“Take it in the punishment room and prepare yourself.” The ‘punishment room’ was just a small box room about 12 feet by 10 partially partitioned from the kitchen. Violet showed Eric how her young self now moved in the storeroom and found a knothole through which she could see the events that followed. As their ghost selves they positioned themselves in the punishment room where they could get a good view of the proceedings. Millie hesitantly began to remove her skirt and undergarments. 
“Hurry up girl. It was laziness that got you here in the first place. Don’t make it worse by dawdling now. Thompson is going to see and probably feel, everything you’ve got in a moment anyway.” Millie blushed at Cook’s words but her trembling fingers couldn’t seem to get the buttons undone quickly. Eventually though she was naked from the waist down.
“She’s got a nice full bum, Thompson, plenty or area for you to stripe,” Cook commented to further upset Millie. “Get yourself over the chest young lady, we haven’t got all day to waste on you.”
In the centre of the room stood a large blanket chest with a rounded top. Millie had seen one of the boot boys punished and knew what was expected. Still crying and pleading for mercy although she knew she would get none, Millie draped herself over the chest and lay still while a wide leather belt was fastened over her back. Another strap fastened her wrists to the handle at one end. 
“The master and mistress are away so I won’t bother to gag her. It will do the other servants good to know what they can receive if they don’t work well enough,” Thompson stated.
“Yes,” Cook agreed, “It is more convincing when we can hear the squeals.”
Thompson then opened the girls legs wide so her young cunt was fully on display. “Noooo!” Millie cried. The boy she had seen had kept his legs closed. She tried to close them and was rewarded with a slap from Cook.
“Keep them open girl, Thompson will want to make sure that opening is nice and warm for when he attends to it later.” Millie tried again to close her legs and received another hearty slap right on the opening of her slit.
“We’d better strap her legs apart, Cook.” Two more straps were produced and poor Millie’s thighs were spread and her sex well on display.
“Wow! Fuck me!” Eric exploded at the obscene sight, “If I was solid I’d have a hard on and would want to ram it right inside that lovely looking cunt.”
“Well you’re not solid,” Violet retorted with a hint of jealousy in her voice, “and as you’re not solid you can’t even wank your cock.” She laughed at his predicament. “We can watch and see but not take part.
While this repartee was going on, Thompson removed a birch from the pot and shook it free of brine. It consisted of eight or nine branches about three feet long, bound together at the thicker end. Millie cringed at the song it made as Thompson swung it harmlessly through the air. She knew she would be feeling its wrath before many more minutes. She had been spanked on many occasions by her parents and felt the strap three times but she knew the birch would be far worse. She was right.
Thompson brought the instrument down hard on her buttocks. Almost instantly fine red lines appeared across the white flesh. Small globules of blood oozed from where the end buds had punctured the skin. “Aaaaaghhh!!” A piercing scream came forth from Millie. Violet moved closer to Eric’s form and melded into it so they could both feel the sexual excitement of the other. They noted Cook’s face looked flushed with excitement and Thompson had a bulge in the front of his trousers.
“She should remember that,” Cook stated, “Carry on Thompson. Make sure she can’t sit for a few days. Master will be in Calais for a week so she can’t complain to him.”
“Swish!” “Aaaaaghhh!!” “Swish!” “Aaaaaghhh!!” “Swish!” “Aaaaaghhh!! No more, please. You’ll kill me.” Millie’s screams and sobs sounded throughout the house causing even the servants working upstairs to shiver and pray it wouldn’t happen to them.
Cook bent over the girl and not too gently felt the tortured arse. “It’s warm,” she declared, “Give her the same again, that will get her nice and hot. A bum like this can take much more.”
Four more times the wicked birch descended, tearing the flesh and streaking it with blood. At the eighth poor Millie almost passed out. Both Cook and Thompson realised she had taken as much as she could. Cook wiped the blood streaks away and applied smelling salts under Millie’s nose, reviving her and bringing back the full force of the pain. She screamed and cried but her torment wasn’t over. 
Violet watched, as she had done all those years ago, Thompson unbutton his breeches and remove his erect prick. To the young Violet, it seemed and enormous weapon although she now realised it was only the normal six inches and a bit. Cook knew what it was like and encouraged Thompson to “open her up and warm her inside as well as out,” as she put it. “Fuck it into her hard and then perhaps we’ll let the others see what they missed.”
Thompson plunged his manhood straight in. Halfway it halted. “She’s a bloody virgin. Well you won’t be for much longer, Millie. I’ll make a woman of you now.” He withdrew a little and plunged forward again, this time breaking through the hymen. The scream it brought forth was heartrending. Not only was there pain from the ruptured membrane, Thompson’s hips forcefully hit her battered arse. Mercifully she fainted and by the time the smelling salts had done their work, Thompson was spilling his seed inside her womb.
“That was a most enjoyable fuck,” he informed Cook, “Nice and tight.”
Cook went to the kitchen and rang a hand bell vigorously. Soon all the house staff were assembled; six girls, two men and two boys. “You probably heard we had to punish Millie. So that you all understand the sort of punishment you might receive for similar laziness, you will each go and see the results. We will start with the ladies, oldest first.”
Thompson had left the room before the first woman entered. She cried out when she saw the swollen raw flesh of her fellow servant. “Oh my God, did she really deserve this?”
“Of course she did,” retorted Cook angrily, “and if your work gets more shoddier, you’ll get it too, make no bones about that. Now feel how warm that arse is and imagine it is yours. Squeeze those cheeks.” Millie cried anew as the woman gently squeezed her arse.
Two other older women had much the same feelings for the victim. Inside they felt horror for what was done and sympathy for the girl’s plight. Not so when Vicky came in. Only slightly older than Millie, the pair had never been friends mainly because Vicky lost her boyfriend to Millie.
“Nice to see you got your just desserts Millie.” She gave the flesh a hard squeeze eliciting a hoarse groan. Millie was past screaming. “It looks as though you had a good fuck too, still you would be used to that with my John.”
“She was a virgin, Vicky,” averred Cook.
“Well it wasn’t for want of trying no doubt. I trust you will make all the men give her another good dose. I would have tickled her tits with the birch as well. There’s plenty of area there to work on.”
When the ladies had finished their inspection, Cook suggested the men and boys all go in together. “You older men can show the boys what to do. Make sure you do it as hard as you can.” All the men sympathised with the young girl but Cook was the boss around here and she could make life very hard or have you sacked, especially with the master away and no one to turn to.
Old Tom, at over 60 and still very sprightly, opened his breeches and pulled his erect cock out. It had been a long time since it has seen a cunt as young as Millie’s. Carefully he entered her but was forced to plunge in harder by the Cook giving his arse a shove. “Don’t fart-arse about Tom, get it in and get on with it,” she told him in no uncertain terms. Tom took a long while over his fuck, during which time one of the young lads, Henry, came from just watching. Eventually they all had their turn and Cook released Millie from her bonds. Millie couldn’t stand. Calling Vicky she instructed the girl to take Millie to her room, clean her up and douche her well. To Millie she said, “I want you back at work at teatime or we’ll tickle your bum with the birch again.”
Eric and Violet watched as the young Violet made her escape and then followed Vicky and Millie. Vicky, once she was clear of Cook was far more compassionate to the whipped girl and did all she could to relieve her pain. She was very careful as she inserted the douche into the sore opening and injected the vinegar solution Cook had given her. 
Eric turned to Violet and suggested they go home. He’d seen enough for one day. Violet was right. Seeing the horror of the birching, ‘in the flesh’ as it appeared, was vastly different to seeing it on screen. Violet took his hand and they left the room but not before Eric glimpsed the young Violet enter. Microseconds later, their bodies were once again filling their clothes. In two minutes it was almost as if they had never been away. Time had not moved on during their adventure.

Chapter 5. The aftermath
Shaking from his experience, Eric held Violet tightly for some moments before sitting down with her alongside him. “I have never experienced anything remotely like that,” he enthused. “It did happen didn’t it?” Violet assured him it had. “It was like seeing a film, a film you could move around in. But it was horrible too. That poor girl. I have often wished to see a girl thrashed for real. Now I have, I am not sure I want to again. What became of her? What happened when you went into the room?”
“All in good time, Eric dear. First you must relax and calm down and then we will talk about it.” Violet filled a kettle from the pail by the sink and put it on the stove. “First though please go to the pump and fill this bucket.”
Groaning at having to do such a chore especially as it was now raining, Eric asked why they couldn’t return to his time. “We can,” came the reply, “but I thought it would add more atmosphere if we stayed here for a bit. However, I know you will want to put this day’s adventures on your computer so we will return there later. With you and I together, there are only two times we can be in solid form. Here, like now in my real era, and in your real time, September 27th 2001. At rare other times like when you saw the train, do we appear solid but as you found when I landed on you, I wasn’t solid at all.”
Later, when they were again seated together Violet asked, “You thought you would have an erection if you had been solid when you saw Millie strapped down. Would you still have kept that hardness after her birching?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Especially if she had been gagged. It was her appalling screams that might have put me off.”
“What about if I had been the victim rather than someone you didn’t know?”
“I would have tried to help you. It was so frustrating with Millie to know I couldn’t do anything. The time I tried to get between the birch and her bum, the birch just went straight through me as if I wasn’t there. I suppose I wasn’t. Being a ghost has its disadvantages. Funny though, I could feel you although you were soft and sort of spongy and I could hold your hand to come back here.”
“You’ll be even more frustrated and upset at some of the scenes I want to show you later. Scenes in which I am whipped front and back and raped and forced to do other obscene things. You will not be able to do anything to help. You will only watch. You can shout but your voice will not be heard except by the ghost me. But you asked what happened to Millie and what I did when I entered the room. Things for her actually turned out surprisingly well. I won’t take you back to view it. You’ve have had enough excitement for one day and I think I can tell the story well enough for you to get it down on paper or disk as you will probably use now.” 
Violet began her story.
“I wanted to help Millie because she had always been one of the nicer maids to me even if she hadn’t been in our service for long. I’d had to bite on the blankets to keep from crying out myself at her treatment but I knew I could do nothing at that time. In any case I wasn’t supposed to have seen anything but I couldn’t pretend not to have heard the screams or the ringing of the bell. However, I was very incensed and angry and even at 13 years, I was a bit of a fighter. I’d had to be to combat the effects of my face, not only the pain of the actually face but the taunts and snide comments of others. So shortly after cook left, I slipped away, and a few minutes later went directly to the servants quarters and burst in on Millie and Vicky.”
“Go to your room Miss Violet,” Vicky ordered, “This is no place for a young girl.”
I stood my ground, “You don’t order me around, Victoria, I want to know what was done to Millie and why.” 
“I’m sorry Miss. You’ll have to ask Cook that.”
“I am asking the pair of you. Millie, why did Thompson beat you?”
Vicky answered with a question, “How do you know it was Thompson?”
I’d slipped up there but I was determined not to give in. “Millie, I asked the question.” Crying she told me what I already knew. Laziness. Next I asked Vicky to explain why she was washing out Millie’s inside.
“Just to make sure it is clean,” she lied or at least gave me half the truth.
“Make sure you treat her carefully,” I ordered, “I am going to get some of mother’s pain killing medicine to help soothe her. She’s in too much pain.” I knew where the blue bottle was kept. I know in 2002 it is an illegal strong morphine mixture but in those days it was readily available. Not knowing any better, I gave her the maximum dose. It seemed to ease the pain after five minutes or so but made her drowsy. Vicky kept applying cold towels to her arse but didn’t dare try to apply any goose fat that seemed to be the accepted salve by the kitchen staff. 
Seeing I could do little more good I left her to Vicky’s attentions but returned an hour later. She was alone and sleeping face down on the top of a bed. The morphine was doing its job in shutting her mind off from the pain. I found Vicky cleaning the dining room. “Victoria,” I used her full name when I wanted to sound authoritative, “At 3.30 bring Millie to my room. Get some help if necessary and when Cook asks why she isn’t down to help with the tea say that I ordered her to help tidy my wardrobe.”
“How do you.....?” Vicky halted. I had slipped up again, I wasn’t supposed to know Millie had to be back at work for teatime. “Yes, Miss,” she continued. 
“It took two of them to carry the near unconscious Millie to my room and lay her on my bed. There she stayed until next morning. Sometime in the night she woke and I gave her water but otherwise she just lay there. Cook tried to question me sharply but I stood my ground and told her Millie was working under my orders for the rest of the day and would be doing so in the morning as well. I knew she didn’t believe me and went away muttering. I heard some of the other girls getting the sharp end of her spiteful tongue but I didn’t hear any beatings.
We had a stroke of luck as far as Millie was concerned. The ship that was to have taken my parents to France ran aground on the Goodwin Sands in strong winds before it reached Dover and was likely to break up. Father decided they should return home and turned up unexpected and unannounced the following day. 
After lunch both mother and father sat resting and reading in the drawing room so I went in. “Father what degree of punishment would you expect to give a maid who was a little bit lazy and didn’t clean the pans properly?” My father was strict but fair. He punished servants but in moderation. 
“Violet, that seems to be a loaded question with more behind it than the questions asks.”
“Father, it is important to me that you answer and I will give you my reasons.”
“Well, for a first time, a sharp verbal reprimand or if the laziness was severe perhaps a spanking or at worst half a dozen strokes with a strap. Now what is this all about? Something must have happened while we were away.” I went and rang the bell and summoned May, the parlour maid.
“May, will you please bring all the servants in here except Thompson and Cook. Millie may need some help, she is in my room.”
“What is this all about? The servants are not your responsibility.”
“Today they are father. Please bear with me for a few more moments otherwise you may have a worse situation on your hands.” Father nodded to May to authorise my order. In a short while, all the house staff filed into the drawing room and stood silently. Thompson put his head in the doorway and was rather taken aback when I ordered him to wait in the kitchen with Cook. Father also seemed shocked but again nodded. 
“You had better know what you are doing daughter otherwise you may well be on the receiving end of a good spanking.”
Being a semi recluse because of my features, I read a lot and pretended I was a courtroom barrister. “Millie will you step forward please?” With a little help, she did so. “Turn round and raise your skirt.” Millie hesitated. “Go on Millie, almost everyone in this room saw your bottom yesterday.” Reluctantly she raised her garment as showed my parents her swollen, vividly coloured bottom. Mother cried out in anger. I suppose I took after her in my dislike of thrashings. 
“Who did this to you, Millie?” she shouted. 
“Thompson and Cook, Ma’am.”
“Why?” asked father quietly. I knew from past experience that when his voice was quiet, he was at his most dangerous. If I messed up, I would certainly feel his wrath. 
“I didn’t clean the pans properly, Sir.”
“And was it the first time?”
“Yes, well almost, Sir.”
I took up her case again. “Susan, you are Cook’s chief helper. How bad were the pans?”
“Two had bits of food left in the corners and two others were a bit mucky, Miss.”
“Millie, what punishment did you receive for this offence?”
“Eight strokes of the birch, Miss”
“Who ordered punishment of this severity and who carried it out?”
“Miss...” Millie hesitated.”
“Go on Millie, I know what happened and you know I know so lying is not an option.”
“Miss, Cook ordered it and Thompson did it.”
“And did anything else happen afterwards?”
“No.... Miss.”
“Don’t lie Millie. I know it’s distasteful but everyone in this room except my parents knows what happened afterwards.” Some of the other girls started crying and the men looked down at their feet.
Gradually I drew it from her and the others confirmed it. 
Mother was very angry and demanded that father do something about it. “It is disgusting what these men did to the poor girl. Perhaps we should get rid of the lot of them.”
“No mother, they only did what Cook and Thompson ordered. They feared either the butler or the cook would sack them if they didn’t comply. They deserve some punishment certainly but the main culprits are Cook and Thompson. They are they depraved ones.”
Mother agreed. “We should flog them and throw them on the streets. Unfortunately we would then have the problem of finding a new cook and butler.”
“It shouldn’t be much of a problem Mother,” I interrupted, “Susan I know has done most of the cooking for some time now while Cook has sat and watched. Isn’t that true Susan?” Susan nodded. “We could promote her to full cook status. Fletcher could do the butler’s job at least for the time being. Is that so Fletcher?”
Jack Fletcher was taken aback. “Sir, Miss, Ma’am. I don’t rightly know. I could do the job at times like this but you’d need to get someone with more training when you has those big dinner parties.”
“Violet,” Father spoke, “I am not going to ask how you came by all this information but it seems a very unjust punishment has been given to one of my staff. Before I pass judgement, I wish to hear what Cook and Thompson have to say.” He sent for the pair and at first they denied what happened but when confronted by the evidence of all the staff, who now could see a change coming where they would no longer be under the control of the hated pair, they started to apologise and say they would make amends. Father sent them to their rooms while he made his decision. He dismissed the staff telling them to get on with their work as usual. To Susan he said, “Please prepare tonight’s meal. Whatever was planned. We’ll see if it is to our liking and decide on your status then. Millie,” he went on, “Take the rest of today off and do what you can in future. I can only say I am sorry this happened and I will do what I can to make amends.” I was dismissed as well. 
In my travels as a wandering soul, I did find out what happened afterwards. Mother was all for flogging the pair and then handing them over to the authorities. Father in his quiet way was also in favour of punishing them. In the end he decided they would be sent to Mr. Wilson’s for punishment. He was one of the officers in the local prison who took on punishment jobs for a fee in his spare time. It was decided each should receive a birching double what Millie had and dismissed without references. The punishments were to be witnessed by two of the elder members of staff; a man and a woman who could report back to the others. He chose Emily and Fletcher who were married and had been on the staff for many years. There would be no rape of the now demoted cook. The men who raped Millie would also receive six strokes of the cane. I wasn’t allowed to witness these punishments but of course I have since seen what happened.

Chapter 6. The punishers are punished
Mr. Wilson arrived in a cart with two burly men. Father took them to Thompson’s room and informed him of the decision. He ordered him to pack his belongings in front of him so he could check he wasn’t taking anything that belonged to the house. He didn’t have much as almost everything was supplied for his work. He’d a few pounds in savings and father paid him his wages to the end of the week. Thompson vigorously protested his innocence and resisted when he was led away so they tied his wrists and when he was in the cart, tied his ankles too.
Mother supervised the ex cook’s packing. She almost fainted when she learned she was to get sixteen strokes of the birch by Wilson. He had a reputation for being really mean and she later learned Millie was a distant niece so could expect no mercy from him. Cook shook so much at the thought that Mother had to instruct May to pack the bag for her. Soon though Cook sat alongside Thompson her wrists tied but her ankles were left free. I watched with the staff as the cart moved off.
Before departing I heard Wilson ask to see his niece. I off course went along unseen. Although used to seeing well striped flesh, Wilson was horrified at the extent of her punishment for what was a trivial offence and from his own upbringing and vocation, he fully understood she had been whipped for the sadistic pleasure of her tormentors. “You can rest assured that pair will receive their full due when they are on my birching bench. They won’t stand sixteen of my strokes just on their arses so I will have to spread them over a greater area. And I will make sure the tender parts between their legs feel the rods too. He won’t know where to put his bollocks and she’ll find it painful to piss when I have finished,” he avowed.
At 13 years old I was pleased I had been instrumental getting the cruel pair get their comeuppance and Millie some recompense for her suffering but when many years later I returned in time to view the birching, I didn’t get any pleasure from it. As a wandering soul I watched the departure from our house and then transported myself to the main road outside the town jail. A small crowd had gathered but they only saw the pair briefly before they were led inside. Only Wilson and his two assistants were allowed to see the birching. And me of course but they didn’t know about that. The two witnesses from the staff would only see the end result.
Cook and Thompson were taken down two flights of stairs to the basement. Cook was locked in a cell while Thompson was taken directly to the punishment room and ordered to undress completely. At first he refused but Wilson pointed out he had the option to undress himself and still have serviceable clothes afterwards or Fred and Bert, his assistants would rip them off him. He undressed.
One of the items in the room was an old fashioned even for these times, birching bench. An S shaped piece of apparatus that bulged outward where the stomach would fit and curved in at chest level. Straps were fastened to the framework at places where they would hold a person’s ankles, wrists and waist and would allow the flogger complete access to the victims back, buttocks and legs. Thompson was forcibly fastened to the frame and Wilson made sure his legs were spread and then dragged the poor man’s cock and balls between them. Fred put a wedge-shaped block underneath so the birch would strike them at the same time as the buttocks and thighs. Fred then massaged the cock so it stood firm and proud above the thighs. It would take the full force of the birch. 
Bert brought a birch from the pot in the corner. It was longer and stouter than the one Cook used. Wilson swished it in the air. “Massage his cock a bit more Fred and get his balls right out in the open so I can get a couple of good ones on them before they go down.” I have seen how tender men’s balls are and could foresee Thompson would be in extreme pain when the rod hit because the end of his cock and all of his balls were forced well above the thighs by the wedge underneath them.
Wilson didn’t spare him. The rods splayed out as they descended and crashed across his private parts. The scream that came from Thompson’s mouth showed he was in sheer agony. Seconds later he passed out. Water revived him and he took two more strokes in the same area before he passed out again. His cock and balls were bleeding badly. “Only thirteen more to go,” Wilson stated, “But I think we will have to work on other areas now.” Methodically he worked up from the man’s knees to his shoulders until all the available flesh was covered with welts and oozing blood. Water was thrown over him before he was taken to the cell and his clothes thrown in after him.
Cook had heard the screams and was white with fear, a fear that escalated to downright terror when her cell door was opened and Thompson thrown in. At one glance she took in the sight of his bloody body and fainted. By the time she came to she was fastened naked to the frame. Bert and Fred were very free with their hands when it came to undressing and fastening her to the frame as her bruised tits testified.
“So you’re awake now are you Cook,” Wilson stated the obvious, “It’s time for you to have a taste of the rod. You saw what it did to Thompson’s back but did you get a look at his cock and balls? No? Let me assure you he won’t be putting it inside you for a while and to make doubly sure, I am going to make your slit so tender you won’t want to touch yourself.” On his instructions, Bert and Fred tilted the top of the frame down so her head was near the floor and her open crotch displayed obscenely at chest height. Bert produced a new birch, maybe a fraction lighter than the one used on Thompson but not much. “You made sure our Millie caught it on the cunt, so I am going to make damn sure you do too.” He brought the rods crashing down on her unprotected sex. Again she fainted and was brought round with water thrown over her. A second stroke also took her into deep unconsciousness that took a while to revive. 
The frame was now tilted upright and Wilson began to send his rod on its devastating journey along her body. When he got to chest level, Bert went underneath and pushed her breasts out sideways. Wilson then laid the rods across her back so the tips caught the sides of her tits. He made sure both were treated equally by working from either side of her body. Water was thrown over her to wash some of the blood away and she was taken and put in the cell with Thompson. Emily and Fletcher were brought down to see the punishment had been properly carried out. To their minds it certainly had - and to excess.
“What will you do with them now?” Emily enquired.
“Leave them here till morning and throw them on the streets to fend for themselves.”
“Cook has a cottage in Woodland Street. Could we not take them there on the cart so they wouldn’t be a menace on the street?” asked Fletcher.
“You can take them there if you wish Sir, but not with our cart.”
Fletcher and Emily put a coat round Cook and more or less manhandled her to the cottage. Thompson was heavier but was able to stumble along with widespread legs. They laid them side by side on top of a bed. “We’d better get their bags and then clean them a bit before we leave,” Emily stated. Although they tried to be careful with the cleaning, each time a cloth touched skin, a loud wail emitted from the recipient. This was especially the case when they tried to clean the genital areas. Thompson’s balls had swollen to an unbelievably enormous size and Cook’s cunt lips were swollen, blue and bleeding. 
Emily and Fletcher stayed until first light and then walked the seven miles back to the house, shaken and appalled by the severity of the punishment.
Father decided to wait until after dinner that day before the men received their punishment. Normally it would be the Cook’s job to administer it but Emily surprisingly volunteered. “I know my husband here has wanted to his cock in some of the young fannies on the staff for a long while so I expect he jumped and the chance. Now I want to be the one to pay him back for cuckolding me.” It was agreed that to be fair, the same person should cane everyone, so it fell to Emily. I tried to sneak into the store cupboard again but was sent away to my bedroom long before I got near. Once more it was years later before I saw what really happened. 
Emily was a powerful woman so I guessed the men would certainly not want to sit in a hurry afterwards and I was right. She started with her husband. He was fastened to the chest with just the strap across his back. No leg or wrist restraints and he was allowed to keep his legs closed to protect his balls. Emily didn’t want to do without a good fuck for long. Those waiting their turn outside heard the swish of the cane and the crack as it landed and knew it had to have been a hard painful stroke. Fletcher let out a groan. The others prayed she was hitting him harder than she would them. A tear came to the eye of the youngest boot boy. By the fourth stroke Fletcher was yelling and pleading with his wife to go a bit easier but she didn’t heed him. Fortunately the six strokes were soon over and he was able to stretch and rub the sore flesh. Each of the men got a similar thrashing without favour. All except the boot boy took it reasonably stoically. He burst out sobbing and howling almost before the first stroke landed. Oddly enough, he was the only one to get an erection during the caning.
Afterwards there was the humiliation of showing their rear ends to the other staff and to Millie.
*****
“I guess that about ends that episode,” Violet said, “It’s not a very nice day here so shall we return to your time and I can have the luxury of my first hot shower. I’ve been in there with you several times but in a non-solid state. As we are now melded I should remain solid and be able to feel the warmth of the water and have you wash me.”

Chapter 7. Arrival Studenhall
Over breakfast the following day, (or was it over one and a half centuries later? Eric was still very confused over the time scales), they discussed the events and matters of more practicality. If Violet was to live in 2001 she would need more clothes and other items. At the moment she had her one and only Victorian dress and underwear. Money was no great problem but Violet couldn’t very well go into a shop dressed as she was. Eric would have to do it for her. Never in his life had he tried to buy women’s clothes but he couldn’t see a way round it. Fortunately a mail order firm continually sent him catalogues that were largely devoted to women’s wear with only a relatively small section for men, and from the catalogue they were able to determine Violet’s dress and shoe sizes. He drove to the nearby shopping mall and was able to get a basic outfit consisting of a couple of shirts, trousers and underwear as well as a pair of trainers. Wearing these she could buy anything else she needed for herself. The items were all laid out on the counter ready for packing when a familiar voice said, “Morning Eric. I didn’t know you were into ladies clothing.” It was Freida, the wife of a friend who lived in the same village. 
Knowing it would soon be common knowledge that he had a woman living with him, Eric replied, “Morning Frieda. How are you? How’s John? No, I’m not going to wear them, a girl I met on holiday looked me up and she’s going to stay for a while. She had her suitcase stolen on her way so she hasn’t much to wear.”
“And I thought you were just into computers and things. You are a sly one. I’ll have to bring John round and see her for myself.” Freida good-naturedly interrogated him about Violet until his parcel was ready and the two parted.
“Damn,” muttered Eric, “Now we will have to concoct a whole life story for her.” He returned home and together they worked out a sort of believable story. Violet had lived in North London but moved away to Cornwall. She had met Eric on the last day of his holiday in Inverarry in Scotland. It was no problem for her to slip back in time and see what Eric did on the week he was there and she could spend a bit of ghost time in Cornwall to be able to make up some story. They could adapt the real story of how she was disfigured by saying the oil lamp was being used because of a power cut.
With this unexpected problem solved, they could turn their attention to writing the story so far. It took two days to type in the text and work through the corrections and alterations until they were satisfied with the draft. Freida and John did come round one evening. Freida of course tried to probe Violet’s past but Eric said firmly but laughingly, “Frieda, stop being so nosy. You’ll embarrass her with your questions and then she might want to go back.” 
John backed him up. “Yes, Freida, it’s about time Eric found himself a nice woman, so don’t you go upsetting things between them. If they want to tell us all the gory details of their past, then they will in their own good time.”
Next morning, Eric asked if Violet was going to show him the next part of the story. They were sitting side by side in the conservatory in revelling the warmth of the late September sunshine. Violet paused for a long time before answering. “Eric, dear Eric, I don’t know if I should show you more. In the short while we have been together, I have come to love you dearly. I don’t want to do anything to upset our love. You got quite upset when you saw the beating Millie took. I could show you many other thrashings given to servants but Millie’s was the worst. If we are to progress with the book, you will have to witness my beatings and my degradation. The very disgusting things I was forced to perform might really upset your stomach. Do you think you could handle that and still wish to be with me afterwards?”
Eric was silent for a while. In the end he replied, “I really don’t know Vi, I really don’t but if we don’t try, we will never know and may regret it for the rest of our lives. In a few years, when our lives together have become routine, you may inwardly at least, think of me as a wimp for not going. If we go and it doesn’t work out, that is something we will probably both regret. But, as I said, we won’t know unless we try it.”
“When would you like to go?”
“Later today. We ought to make the most of this beautiful day. Let’s walk the railway and you can set the scene for me.
As they strolled along the footpath that was the old railway line, Violet spoke of her life at her father’s mansion after the Thompson and Cook incident.
“I remained living at my father’s house keeping more and more to myself. As I grew and my body developed, I became very ashamed of my face and tried to cover it even to the staff. Millie became my personal maid until she married and left our service. Two other young girls were taken on in succession but they left after only a short while. I told myself it was because they couldn’t stand the sight of my face. Certainly I didn’t expect any man would want to marry a disfigured woman like me.” 
They arrived at the tunnel entrance and sat on the bank at the spot where they first met.
“Father, I know worried about it too. He didn’t want me to become a spinster; an old maid. He was also a self made man. An industrialist. A wealthy man who yearned to associate with the aristocracy and tried to cultivate friendships with anyone with a title. Thus it was that he was invited to a shooting party with Lord Theyer. At a drinking session afterwards I must have been mentioned because a few days later he came to the house and father insisted I be present. I was 28 years old and still a virgin although I had witnessed copulating couples on a number of occasions since Millie’s rape and I found a very rude book one of the stableboys had hidden. In theory I knew some of the things men did to women.
Lord Geoffrey Theyer seemed quite presentable but I had heard whispers of what he did with his serving girls and Jane, one of the new maids, directly warned me against him but wouldn’t say why. He looked at me strangely and rarely in the face. He was definitely more interested in my breasts and ankles. My long dress hid my legs. I was very shy and reluctant to speak with him but that didn’t seem to bother him too much. He stayed for most of the afternoon and then shock of shocks, he asked me to marry him. He said he needed a wife that could run his household but was afraid a real beautiful woman would be tempted to flirt with other men behind his back. Father blinded by the opportunity, could see his daughter becoming a Lady and he would be getting me off his hands as well as into Society, which I know he would spell with a capital S. He said he would give me a dowry of £1,000 which was a great deal of money in those days when few people earned more than £50 per year. When I hesitated to give a reply, father answered for me.”
“Of course she will be honoured to marry you, M’lord.” 
“So it was that two months later, I became Lady Theyer and my life changed for the worse. It started directly we arrived at his home from the reception. The wedding was a small affair with only close family present ostensibly because I didn’t want to show my face in public but I later found that his Lordship didn’t want to be seen with such ‘an ugly bitch’ as he put it.”
*****
Ghost Violet shook as she and Eric watched the closed carriage arrive at the main entrance to Lord Theyer’s mansion at Studenhall. A burly man in a faded uniform stepped forward and opened the door and helped the bride down. “Welcome to Studenhall, M’Lady, I’m Beyers.” She was introduced to each of the staff, lined up on the steps. 
“I was very surprised at the revealing state of the girls dress and apart from the two big women at the head of the line, all seemed very young,” Violet spoke to Eric as unseen they followed the newly weds. 
Lord Geoffrey paused in front of one young maid. His hands took hold of the top of her dress and pulled it open and down to below her nipples. “Mildred,” he said sharply, “You should know by now that tits like yours should not be covered.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
Geoffrey turned to one of the large women, “Grace, give Mildred’s tits six with the strap and make sure she works bare breasted till this time tomorrow.”
Grace curtsied, “Yes Sir. Do wish to see her afterwards?”
“Yes, Grace, bring her straight to me when you have finished. No, on second thoughts it would be better if my wife and I watched.” Tears ran from Mildred’s eyes. The young Violet turned a shocked look on her face. Seeing it Geoffrey added, “Don’t worry dear, I shall pay full attention to yours as well and you might as well find out immediately how I like this house to run.” 
The young Violet started to protest vehemently about the cruelty but Geoffrey gruffly told her to shut up otherwise she would receive a taste of the strap too. Not believing he would do this to his new wife, Violet continued to protest but this only resulted in a slap across the face, a slap made all the more humiliating because it was done in front of all the staff.
“I told you to hold your tongue! Now come with us, and the rest of you too,” he added as the maids and men staff were about to leave and return to their work. All now realised they were going to have to watch Mildred’s suffering and because the master was there, Grace would have whip her very hard, not that the cruel bitch wouldn’t hit hard anyway. 
The group made their way down stairs to a large room equipped with various items to facilitate the application of any desired punishment. Violet cried out in horror at the scene but was quickly silenced by a sharp word from her husband. 
“Take off your dress, Mildred,” Grace ordered. Knowing she no choice but to comply, Mildred lifted her dress over her head. She was completely naked underneath. 
Geoffrey turned to his wife, “That’s how you are to dress in future except as my wife you can chose your own dress but like Mildred and everyone else in this room, you are not to wear anything under it. I want your body readily available for my pleasure or my punishment. Like all the other women, you are to show a good part of your tits at all times. Do you understand?”
Violet started to say “No” but changed her mind and just nodded.
Fastened to the floor was a solid oak high back chair and Grace indicated Mildred should sit in it. Taking the girl’s wrists she fastened them behind the chair, then pushed a cushion between the chair and Mildred’s back forcing her breasts forward. Tears flowed down Mildred’s face and dripped over her breasts making them shine in the flickering candlelight. Grace picked up a well oiled leather tawse an inch wide, two feet long and split into two thongs for about nine inches of its length. She showed it to Geoffrey who nodded approval. “Did you intend six to each breast or a total of six strokes Sir?”
He’d only intended a total of six but given the choice and knowing how sadistic Grace could be and that the lash would strike both globes each time, he answered, “Six to each of course Grace. Lay them on well. There’s plenty of flesh to cover.”
Standing to Mildred’s right she laid two hearty strokes to the underside of the right breast. However, the ends of the long tawse bit deeply into the left one too. Mildred screamed pitifully but this seemed to delight her tormentor. Two more marked the breast tops. Mildred’s head rolled forward in agony.
“Keep your head back,” Grace ordered, “If you don’t want your nose hit as well. Mildred hardly stayed conscious as the next two went across the sensitive nipples. Grace moved to the other side and repeated the whipping. It was too much for Mildred. She didn’t feel the last one as her mind blotted out the pain. Water was thrown over her and as she opened her eyes Violet decided to make a run for it.
“Hold her Beyers and you Martha.” Violet was easily held by the two powerful individuals. Geoffrey returned his attention to Mildred. His hands mauled the tender flesh, his lips suckled a nipple before nipping it between his teeth. “You are to keep them on full display like this until teatime tomorrow and then you will come to me and ask permission to wear your dress. Until then anyone is allowed to inspect and feel them to test their tenderness. Understood.”
Through her tears Mildred whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Chapter 8. Violet’s initiation
“Beyers, Martha, bring that unruly wife of mine here.” Violet was dragged screaming and kicking into the centre of the room. “Strip her. Doesn’t matter if the dress tears, just get it all off. It’s only her wedding finery. She’ll never wear it again.”
Eric moved closer to his Violet and held her hand. He rightly guessed she too was going to feel the lash. In moments the bride, her fine dress shredded, stood stark naked. Beyers and Martha held her arms to prevent any further escape attempt or to cover any part of her body.
“Turn her round so we can all see what she looks like.” A couple of revolutions later, Geoffrey ordered, “Stop. So wife, even after only a few hours of marriage you have decided to defy me. Let me tell you this. First of all your face makes you one ugly bitch. I have married you only because of your dowry and for the fact that I believe you are a virgin and have yet to be fucked in any of your holes.” Geoffrey was deliberately being as crude and as cruel as possible. “As you can see, there are plenty of beautiful ladies in this room. All of them will take my cock in any hole, anytime I ask so I really don’t need another cunt to fuck. However, as you have seen, I also delight in making women squeal with pain but if I do that to the servants they cannot work for several days. With a wife that doesn’t matter. You are now a titled lady but in fact your real title is whore. Lady Whore.”
“No! No! You can’t possibly mean it. I am your bride. It’s inhuman to treat anyone so.” Violet with tears running down her cheeks continued to plead but they were not heeded. Indeed Geoffrey just treated them with scorn.
“Fasten her to the chair.” Promptly she occupied the chair Mildred had vacated and was trussed in the same way. Geoffrey went and hefted her tits and made sure his audience could see them too. He squeezed them and pulled the nipples. “Quite a nice pair. Has any man held them before?” She shook her head, no. “Beyers come and feel these tits.” Violet was shocked and humiliated beyond reason but she could do nothing to prevent Beyers’s large hands mauling her. “Give them a good squash man. She needs to feel your hands. Now Jackson, come and take your turn.” Before long everyone present, including all the maids had played with young Violet’s breasts. Geoffrey ordered Grace to “Warm these tits like you did Mildred’s.”
Young Violet begged and implored him not to but he only replied, “What and spoil my fun!” With practiced ease, Grace striped Violet’s tits just as hard as she had Mildred’s. Violet remained conscious all the time but was soon screaming and begging for the beating to stop. When it finally ended, Geoffrey again played with them and sucked and nipped her teats. Once more he invited Beyers and the rest of the staff to feel and play with them. This time he also insisted they suck each breast as though they were babies wanting milk.
“Sponge her face and release her.” Violet hoped her ordeal was over but it was only the start. “Fasten her to the whipping bench.”
Eric was shaking as he watched the earlier version of his loved one carried to the low bench and strapped down tightly. Ghost Violet, put her arms around his fluid body and said, “It’s okay Eric, remember it all happened a long while ago. I don’t feel it now.” It was small comfort to him as his ears heard the screams that came from the young woman as her tortured tits were snugged down to the bench by the straps across her back.
The bench was higher at the buttock end to fully expose the arse area for punishment. Beyers strapped Violet’s feet wide apart to a cross bar at the base. Though the pain from her tits tended to blind all other thoughts she knew her sex was fully open to the gaze of those in the room. Her cunt, which no other man had seen, was being stared at not only by her husband, but also by Beyers standing alongside him. She was certain that Jackson and the other boy could see it too even though they were further away.
“Well there’s a fine sight,” Geoffrey now spoke with good humour, “A virgin cunt and a virgin arsehole all nicely displayed and two lovely bum cheeks that I wager have never felt the kiss of the cane. Come and have a good look staff., it is not something you see every day. Have a feel. By this time tomorrow there will be nothing virtuous about her.” 
Geoffrey pulled her arse cheeks apart and invited Beyers to put his finger in. “She’s very dry, Sir,” he remarked. 
“Good, then she’ll feel it all the more when I put my cock in but she may get wetter after the cane has warmed her a little.” Violet knew enough by now to know that ‘warmed’ was a euphemism for a very hot thrashing. A thrashing she could do nothing to avoid, a thrashing that would be witnessed by all the staff she was supposed to oversee.
Jackson started a new trend when he stepped up to view the virgin opening. After feeling it for a few moments he put his lip to the entrance and inserted his tongue. “Does it taste good?” enquired Geoffrey and on receiving the affirmative instructed the boy to do the same with her arsehole. Jackson didn’t expect that but knew he must comply.
“Martha, you cack handed bitch, get yourself a cane. You too Grace.” Both women went to a drawer where 50 or more canes were stored. They selected rattan canes about four feet long. 
“These will really warm a virgin arse,” murmured Martha.
“Yes, and we had better do a good job on it while we has the chance. She might be the one wielding the cane next week,” whispered Grace in reply. 
Grace stood by Violet’s left buttock, the cane in her right hand with Martha opposite holding her instrument in her left. 
“Mary,” Geoffrey ordered one of the maids, “Have the smelling salts ready. If she passes out bring her round as quickly as possible. I don’t want to waste time waiting for her to wake up.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Violet, my dear wife, I am sorry you have to learn the hard way after so short a time what happens when I am disobeyed. I am sure you will learn your lesson quickly but if you don’t then there are plenty of other ways of punishing you. I delight in all of them.” He gave a derisory laugh.
“Grace, Martha, I want you to start here,” Geoffrey indicated just above the back of the knee, “And continue covering all the flesh to here.” He pointed to the end of the tailbone. Count to eight between each stroke and work alternately. You can start Martha.”
Martha tapped the selected area with the end of her rod. All the onlookers stopped breathing. They knew from painful personal experience how well Martha could wield the length of rattan. A swish followed by a scream. A livid red welt appeared across the back of both thighs. Eight seconds later, Grace matched it with a stripe alongside and almost touching the first. Violet tried to buck and twist but she was securely held. Her mind, so unused to violence since the episode at home many years previously, tried to shut out the pain but didn’t succeed. It was too terrible. And they had only just started. Martha laid her next stripe a little more than a quarter of an inch away from Grace’s but the inflammation in the skin soon spread so the stripes appeared to touch.
Before they reached the crease between her arse and thighs, Violet passed out. Mary revived her and the horrible thrashing continued. Had he been able, Eric would cheerfully have murdered Geoffrey and the two women but he was powerless to do anything other than watch. His invisible partner held him as he screamed invective and insults at them but other than vent his feelings, it did no good. Only ghost Violet could hear him.
Eventually the beating came to an end. Violet’s skin was an awful spectrum of colours but the skin was not broken. Even Eric had to admit, they knew their job. 
“Mary, make sure she keeps awake. Jackson, you seemed to like putting your tongue in virgin hole, come and do it now. Flora, come and get your lovely lips around my cock and get it to full hardness.” Geoffrey gave the orders as though it was an everyday occurrence to have a woman strapped down and whipped and made ready for rape. His cock was hard enough already; he just wanted to make sure it was rock solid. “Is she wide awake Mary?”
“Yes, Sir, wide awake.” Into Violet’s ear she whispered, “Try and keep awake Miss, it’ll be worse if you don’t. Sorry Miss.”
“Move out of the way then Jackson.” Pushing Flora away too, he entered Violet’s vagina until he satisfied himself her hymen was indeed still intact, and then he pulled back and thrust forward at full power. Not much more than a loud groan came from Violet’s lips. Her voice was nearly gone from all the previous screaming. Geoffrey didn’t waste time on any niceties. He plunged in and out, hitting her tortured flesh with each thrust until he ejaculated. He stayed inside her for a minute or two slowly moving his hips and grinding his pelvis against her arse to cause just more pain. Leaning forward, he gripped her tits and pulled himself tight against her. To the ghostly onlookers his cruelty seemed to know no bounds.
Soon though his cock softened and slipped out. Flora, who was still kneeling at his side, knew what she had to do without being asked. She took the messy soft cock into her mouth again and sucked it clean. 
“Water, water,” Violet croaked.
Mary helped her to sip from the jug. Every one wondered why she wasn’t yet released. It had been the most horrendous punishment they had seen for a long while. They didn’t wonder for long.
“Flora, keep working those lips and that tongue of yours until I am fully hard again. I want to relieve her arsehole of its virginity.” It took about ten minutes before he was hard enough for his satisfaction. Meanwhile he had ordered Jackson to perform again to ready her anus for his penetration. Flora too tried to leave as much saliva as she could on his cock when he finally withdrew from her mouth. 
Again there were no niceties. Geoffrey centred his cock on the opening and pushed and pushed until he gained entry. It didn’t matter to him that she was in great pain; in fact he was pleased she was. Having climaxed so recently he took longer this time causing Violet further pain. Finally it was all over. Flora cleaned him again but now he was sated.
He looked around at his trembling maids and then at the three men who had obvious bulges in their breeches. Like the women, they were only allowed one covering on their bodies. No undergarments so their erections were prominent. “Beyers, Jackson, Jones, drop your britches and let’s see how hard those cocks are.” Beyers had a cock that suited his large frame but the other two were smaller. “It looks as if they need some attention, each of you pick one of the maids and give her arsehole a good reaming,” ordered Geoffrey. All the girls had taken cocks in their arse many times so it wasn’t going to be any hardship for them, except for Flora who was selected by Beyers. She knew he was like his master and would do her hard with that over large weapon of his. Jackson and Jones took pity on Mildred and chose to leave her alone. It was not surprising none picked Grace or Martha. They were older although still attractive in a harsh sort of way.
“Grace, Martha and Mildred, take your new mistress and clean her up and then put her in my bed. Lock the room and Mildred you may take her some refreshments and sit with her until tea.”
*****
“My God, Vi, that was the most horrible thing I have ever seen. None of my films ever came close to it for sheer cruelty.” They were sitting around the stove in the 1866 cottage, which now served as a halfway house on route to Eric’s time. “I just don’t know how you stood all that pain and didn’t pass out or die. I know you said how cruel and mean he was but I never imagined anything that awful. Come here, let me cuddle you.”
“You’re the one that needs holding, dear. You’re the one that’s shaking like a leaf.”
After spending the night at the quaint old house, they returned to 2001 and Eric spent the day typing in the events he’d witnessed. Just recalling them caused him a lot of anguish and his usually good typing became erratic. Violet left him alone for a while and then quietly took him a cup of tea. Noticing all the words underlined in red she remarked, “You don’t seem to be doing too well today dear.” Eric jumped at the sound of her voice and sat back revealing his open flies and an erect cock. “I guess having to recall all those events is difficult for you. It frightens and yet stimulates your cock. It’s not abnormal even if the sights were most unusual both in those times and more so now.” She knelt and took his stiff pole between her lips and suckled and massaged it until he came. “Perhaps that will settle your nerves and after you’ve drunk your tea you can get back to work. It’s not something I can help you with. I have never used a keyboard. We had pens with steel nibs and some of the elders still insisted on quills.” Violet laughed at the memory.
After lunch they went for a short walk. Eric had managed to get the rough draft on disk but it still needed a lot of work, However, he deemed a break would do them good and by the time they’d had their evening meal, both were in a happier mood. It was short lived. Eric asked what happened to Young Violet after she was taken to her bedroom.
“Are you sure you’re ready for another session?” Eric nodded but wasn’t really sure. Violet continued the story.

Chapter 9. Evening’s entertainment
You saw how I was carried from the cellar by Grace and Martha with Mildred following. They took me to a large room on the first floor that overlooked the garden. Inside were the usual wardrobes, a commode, a couple of tallboys and a large four-poster bed. Not a very ornate one but the uprights were sturdy and it had a wooden canopy but no drapes. Had I been in any fit state to take notice I would have seen hooks in the canopy and several straps around the post and fastened to the head and footboards. I saw nothing of this. I only felt the softness of the feathers as they tossed me on the mattress but even this tormented my beaten flesh. Through tearful eyes I saw Mildred, also still naked and crying. Her breasts were purple with reddish stripes. I knew mine would be a similar colour if only I dared to look at them.
“Miss?” I heard Mildred’s voice. “I think the best thing to do is to put the bolster and pillows under your tummy so I can put cold towels on your bottom. We’ll have to do it on the floor Miss, ‘cuz the master won’t be happy if the bed is wet and neither of us will want to feel his wrath again today.”
I could hardly move but somehow she managed to get me kneeling on the floor with the bolster and pillows packing the space between my thighs and breasts, my arms keeping those off the floor. Somewhere, it seemed a long way off, I heard water being poured and shortly after I felt a cold towel touch my flaming bottom. At first the weight just seemed to cause more pain but the coolness did reduce the fire a little. Another towel was laid across the back of my thighs. 
She changed the towels and said, “Stay like that Miss, sorry, it should be Ma’am, while I find a bowl. A minute or two later she brought a bowl of water and placed it under my breasts. “Lower them in the water, Ma’am. It’s the best way I could think of to cool them.”
The pain, though still very bad eased a little and I was able to look at my surroundings. Had anyone entered, it could have struck them as a comedy act. There I was naked except for wet towels over my bottom, kneeling down with my breasts in a bowl of water. Suddenly I was ashamed of myself. There was Mildred, whose breasts were at least as sore as mine, tending me while she was still in pain herself. Pushing the bowl to one side, I said, “Your turn, Mildred. Mine have cooled a little. Now it’s your turn.” Hers were larger and wouldn’t fit the bowl. It was too painful for her to squeeze them together so she had to dip them one at a time.
“Mildred, is there a blue bottle in the house with pain relieving medicine?”
“Sorry Miss - Ma’am. Master won’t let us have anything like that. He says a whipping is supposed to be painful and we has to take it. Water is the only thing we can use and that doesn’t help all that much but it’s better than nothing.”
An hour later, Mildred, brought some scones and lemonade. Although I didn’t feel like eating, the warm scones were delicious and I shared them with Mildred. At least there was a good cook in the house. I ate standing even though it pained the back of my thighs. I couldn’t sit.
We had hardly finished eating when in walks his Lordship. He seemed in a better mood than earlier. “Well, how is my new young bride? Has she learned her lesson? Has she learned to obey her husband?” I just looked at the floor in despair. “Well has she, woman? Answer me!”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Yes what!”
“Yes, M’lord.”
“Good. Remember earlier today you promised to love, honour and obey and obey you will.” Mildred started to collect the things and make her escape but Geoffrey stopped her. “And what about you Mildred?”
“Yes, M’lord.”
“Come here then girl and let me look at them.” Tears sprang from her eyes again because she knew he wouldn’t just look.. She was right. As soon as Mildred was close enough he mauled her tits causing her to cry out in pain. Geoffrey’s hand then went between her legs and felt her cunt. “How long since you had a cock in there?”
“You had me the night before last Sir.”
“Well it is about time I had you again. You will sleep in this bed tonight.” 
Mildred was about to enquire about me but I could see she refrained and only said, “Very good, Sir,”
Geoffrey then turned to me, “Come here wife, I want to feel your tender titties as well.” Unfortunately I hesitated. Immediately he ordered Mildred to give my arse a slap. Poor girl she knew she had to. It wasn’t hard but with my bottom in the state it was, I nearly went through the ceiling.
After mauling them for a bit and making me cry out, he sucked a nipple. “Not bad. Might be even better when I make you pregnant and they are full of milk. What do you think of the taste Mildred?” Mildred suckled a nipple gently until ordered to take more in her mouth and then to use her teeth. When allowed to withdraw he asked her again, “What did she taste like?”
“Very nice, Sir.” I’m sure Mildred just hoped it was the answer he wanted.
“Good, now let her taste yours.” Mildred lightly held her right breast to my lips. “Suck her hard, wife.” Even though I knew it would hurt her, I feared also that if I didn’t it would be worse for both of us. I suppose I must have suckled my mother’s breasts but this was the first time in adult life and the breast in my mouth was swollen and hot from its beating yet, the taste was not unpleasant. Under other circumstances I might have enjoyed it.
“Seeing you two lesbians at work is getting me a hard on. Wife come and undress me.” I was shocked by the command especially as I had to do it in front of Mildred. I hesitated a second time. Before I realised what was happening, Geoffrey had caught hold of me and bent me over the footboard and was pressing my breasts tight to the mattress. I screamed with the pain but over it I heard him order Mildred to give me four hard spanks, “two to each bum cheek” as he put it. I don’t blame the girl but she did seem to hit very hard and undid all her efforts with the wet towels. My bottom was once again not just on fire, it was a raging inferno. Geoffrey let me up and tenderly I touched my rear. “Are you going to obey me now or would you like more? Something harder than a hand?”
Almost frantically I tried undoing the buttons but my shaking hands made hard work of it. However, he acquiesced when Mildred moved closer to give me a hand. Soon he too was a naked as we. “Now Mildred, show her how to suck my cock and get it really hard. She knelt and indicated I should too and then took his half-hard cock in her mouth. When she took it out she showed me the movements to make with my tongue.
“That’s the way, wife. Learn it and learn it well. You’ll be doing it often.” I tried to imitate my tutor and must have had some success in that the cock became rock hard. “On the bed with you. On your back. Legs apart. Despite the awful pain as my bottom felt my weight on it, I did as ordered. “Wider.” I tried but the pain was too great. He pushed them brutally. “That’s how wide they should be. I need to see your cunt wide open and ready for fucking.”
Climbing on me he entered his cock for the second time that day and then let all his weight fall down on my stomach. My buttocks rebelled and tried to move. Geoffrey laughed. “I do like it when my women have a tender arse or a well whipped cunt. It makes them wriggle so nicely when I ram it in especially when they are dry like you and can feel it inside as well. He began fucking me  and every so often would rest with the full weight of his chest on mine. Fortunately after a short while my natural lubrication kicked in so the thrusts were easier, even if they were not enjoyable. It took him quite a long time to climax which only added to my torment but eventually it was all over.
“Raise her arse on the bolster Mildred. I want my seed to go right in her womb.” He climbed off and again placed his cock to my lips. Reluctantly I opened them and took the now softening but messy and sticky flesh in. It wasn’t as unpleasant as I imagined but my mind rebelled at having to do it.
“Get used to it wife. I demand that service frequently and so do my friends.” I could hardly believe my ears. Wasn’t it bad enough I had to do it for a man who was my husband? Surely I shouldn’t be asked to do it to others? Would he allow others to use my other orifices? These and many other questions went through my mind as I sucked him clean.
He left the room soon after with the instruction to Mildred, “Find a suitable dress for her and bring her down when dinner is ready. You can wear what you have on already.” She wore only a pair of soft slippers.
Mildred looked through the wardrobes. “I’m sorry Ma’am. This is the most suitable.” She held up an almost transparent nightdress. I must have looked horrified because she went on. “Ma’am, everyone has seen you with nothing on and if you go down with a long dress that covers everything from neck to ankles, we’ll both end up with another whipping. Besides there will be less to chafe your sore tits and arse.” I tried it on. In the mirror I could easily make out the purple hue of my breasts and nipples pushed out the material so they too were obvious. Mildred said the colour of my arse was visible too.
“I can’t wear this Mildred. It’s obscene.”
“You must Ma’am. For both our sakes. I know him better than you if you don’t mind my saying so. You’ve been hurt enough for one day and so have I. I’m sure he will antagonise our hurts some more in bed tonight so we can do without another visit to Grace and Martha.”
“But ....”
“Remember Ma’am, everyone already knows. Most have been through hell with him before and will sympathise with you even if they can’t show it. Now I must find some scissors and shorten it to a more suitable length.” In a short while she came back and cut the hem to the level of my arse crease leaving all my welted thighs on display. If I bent everyone would get a good view of my sex. I was almost past caring now. The pain and the embarrassment on what should have been a happy and memorable day was becoming too much for me to take.
When the gong sounded for dinner, Mildred helped me down the stairs. I was still unable to walk at all well. She stood me in front of a chair at one end of the long dining table. “Don’t sit until he does,” she whispered. Two other places were set besides the one for Geoffrey at the other end. He came in accompanied by two men who he introduced as Lord Robert and his friend Michael. As Geoffrey sat, Mary pushed the chair in behind him, Flora and Mildred did the same for Lord Robert and Michael. I felt a gentle push as Henrietta pushed gently on the back of my knees. Tears again came to my eyes as my rear hit the hard seat. As much as I tried to suppress my sobs, I couldn’t stop the tears flowing. Henrietta dried them with her handkerchief. Lord Robert commented to Geoffrey, that it seemed he had to start training me early. Geoffrey replied, “You’ll be able to see the effects of the training after dinner.”
Dinner was a formal affair. Each of the maids brought our food and served it for us. I tried to eat but found it difficult. I drank more wine than I should to try and combat the pain but it didn’t help much and soon Geoffrey indicated the servants weren’t to give me any more. Mildred I noticed had her tits felt and mauled by Michael but he didn’t do it viciously. 
Afterwards Geoffrey announced, “Gentlemen, I know on formal occasions we would normally retire to the smoking room without the ladies but as this is a special day for me, I am going to ask my wife to come with us and suggest you each choose a maid to look after your needs. It would seem Michael has taken a fancy to Mildred, which one would you prefer, Lord Robert?” 
“The comely maid that served your wife, Lord Geoffrey, will do me fine.” 
“Henrietta you will look after Lord Robert needs this evening.”
We adjourned to the smoking room and port wine and cigars were brought in. When they were all lit up and relaxed my husband spoke to Robert. “You know I take the training of my women very seriously and I believe all training should start right away. Don’t give them any time to become lax. Violet, my new bride, tried to dispute my authority even before we were fully in the house. Show them the result of your training wife.” I tried just lifting the hem a little but was immediately ordered to take it off. “Let them have a good look at your tits and arse, dear.” I know I blushed a very deep shade of red.
Robert, who now had Henrietta on his knee and his hand up her crotch, asked me to come closer. Freeing his hand he touched and felt my arse and had me bend over. “That was a very professional looking thrashing, Geoff. I must bring one of my sassy maids over and get her warmed like this. Hardly a finger width between any stroke and not a space on most of them. She must have been well strapped down, not to have moved.”
“Of course Robert and she was a virgin in both holes so I wanted to break them in while she was immobile.” He went on to explain all the gory details much to my horror.
Michael by now had Mildred kneeling between his knees and slurping at his cock and as I was pushed to him by Robert I noticed Henrietta shuck her dress and slide between his legs. I had to stand astride Mildred so Michael could feel me. I was again made to bend over so Michael could see and feel my sore bottom and poke his fingers in the orifices.
Geoffrey indicated I should come to him and attach my lips to his weapon. By then I knew it was futile to resist. While this going on, the men discussed the shooting or the last game of cards as if the women weren’t there. I’d been sucking for some fifteen minutes when I felt Geoffrey’s cock stiffen, his hands gripped the back of my head tightly and he exploded in my mouth. I swallowed. I couldn’t do anything else. “Keep licking gently,” he murmured. 
A few minutes later, he pulled me off. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “I’ve just taken her third virgin hole. Now she is free for anyone to use.” I was flabbergasted. My new husband was offering my body to everyone.
Michael seemed to have tired of Mildred so we were swapped. He had cum inside Mildred’s mouth and his cock was flaccid but after feeling and smelling my cunt for a while he became half-hard again. “Suck my balls and lick the base of my prick,” he ordered. 
I looked over at Geoffrey. “Don’t hesitate. You know what you get if you do,” was all he said.
By now I was fast becoming inured to things that would have so disgusted me only a few hours earlier. Pain tormented me at every movement so I wasn’t about to earn myself more by refusing. I took one ball at a time in my mouth, sucked it for a few minutes and then started to lick the base of his cock or pecker as he liked to call it. Soon it fully hardened and I expected to suck it to a climax but no, he ordered me to stand and straddle his thighs. Whereupon he gripped my sore bottom and lifted me on to his cock. Once I was entered about halfway he let go and I slid down. His cock hurt as it went in my vagina which fortunately was wet from the previous stimulation, but I couldn’t suppress a cry as my thighs and bum hit his. Michael was delighted by this response and lifted me by pushing up on my sore breasts and letting me slide down again. This he did repeatedly for about ten minutes. I almost passed out with the pain but finally he came and after bouncing me on knee a little longer I was pushed to the floor and ordered to clean his cock. 
When I finished and was able to look around. Henrietta was draped over the arm of a chair being fucked doggie style and Mildred knelt at Geoffrey’s cock, alternately licking and sucking although it remained soft.
Once more the men discussed general topics as though we weren’t there except to occasionally pull us to their groin. After an hour or so this too seemed to die off and I hoped they would soon be returning home except when they left I wondered what horrors would be in store for me in the bedroom. Then Lord Robert spoke to Henrietta.
“Are you ready for a little drinkies Henny?” In my ignorance I thought we might be given a little wine. My reasoning was shattered by Geoffrey, who said, “Watch carefully, no doubt Michael will want you to provide the same service.” Henrietta took Robert’s soft cock in mouth and closed her lips tightly around it.
“He surely isn’t going to.....” I thought. But he was. A few moments later I noted swallowing motions from Henrietta’s mouth and neck and an occasional dribble of yellow liquid from the corner of her mouth. A few minutes later, her mouth was pushed free and she muttered, “Thank you M’lord.”
“Take her to the lavatory, Michael,” Geoffrey suggested his friend, “And only give her some. She hasn’t done it before and I don’t want her spewing over the furniture.” Geoffrey had more concern for his furniture than for me.
Michael took me to the lavatory. In those days it was a long seat with two holes over two buckets with a chemical in. Smelled strongly of carbolic. With absolutely no regard for my whipped arse, he plonked me down on the seat over one hole and started peeing in the other. After a short while he squeezed his cock near the base and the flow stopped. My determination to keep my mouth closed was short lived. With his free hand Michael gripped my right breast in a vice-like grip, which of course, caused me to yell and his cock went in.
“Get used to it woman,” Michael yelled, “It should be a good vintage after all the fine wine I’ve drunk.” The warm liquid burned my throat as I tried to swallow to keep from choking. Much of it went down but some dribbled down my chin on over my breasts.
“Not a very good effort, you need to relax your throat and let the piss go straight down. I am sure Geoffrey will be able to arrange for you to have more practice when I inform him.” Michael massaged the piss on my breasts and seeing it aggravated the sore flesh he put his hand between my legs. “Piss,” he said. My bladder was very full but even so it took a while before I could start the flow. Cupping his hand, he took some of the liquid and rubbed this into my breasts until they glistened with the wetness and burned with the sting of the acid liquid.
Lord Robert came in with Henrietta and watched. Geoffrey and Mildred were not far behind. “Did she spit it out Michael?” Geoffrey asked.
“No, but she didn’t swallow much either.” He made it seem as though all the pee on me had come from my not swallowing.
“Right Mildred, you show her once more what to do and tomorrow, she can start practicing on my prick every time I need to go.”
Mildred looked at me with what seemed sympathy in her eyes but she controlled herself. “Ma’am, if you gently squeeze the base like this,” she said showing me how to hold his cock, “You can control the flow but you mustn’t let it stop.”
“Otherwise I get annoyed,” Geoffrey butted in.
“And even if it is soft squeezing stiffens it enough for you to take it to the back of your throat. Take it as far back as you can. Relax your throat muscles and let the piss go straight down your throat without filling your mouth first. Well that’s how it should work but you have to breathe so some goes in the mouth but if you gently control the flow, it shouldn’t spill out. Henrietta’s very good at it. I barely manage.” Being within inches of her face, I saw clearly what she tried to do. Had he not drunk so much wine, she might have done it without spilling any but towards the end some spilled out of the corners of her mouth but it was little enough.
The party finished soon after and still naked, I was made to show them to the door. Watched by their coachmen, I was forced to kiss them goodnight and wave them on their way. The three of us retired to the bedroom. Geoffrey gave Mildred and I five minutes “to do what you have to” and get in bed alongside him. We needn’t have hurried. He was sound asleep and lying naked in the middle of the bed when we entered the room. Like Mildred I rinsed my mouth out with several changes of water before we climbed into bed on either side of him.
For a long while I lay awake, quietly sobbing, partly from the pain but more from the humiliation I suffered and from not knowing what I would be expected to do and how much I would be beaten in the future.

Chapter 10. Reminiscences
“Lets spend a few days and relax in my cottage,” Violet suggested. They had been back a week from their sojourn to her wedding night. Eric spent long hours at the computer, writing and re-writing the episode. It had been a nerve-racking experience, especially for him. Each line typed brought back vivid pictures and sounds to his senses as he struggled to find words that graphically expressed these sensations.
Twice Freida had been round and surreptitiously tried to get more information on Violet’s background. She did it in a friendly way and was put out by the evasive answers. The last time she came when Eric was emotionally drained with the writing and he told her quite bluntly that Violet’s past was none of Frieda’s business. He’s apologised afterwards but suspected it had only reinforced Frieda’s belief that Violet was an illegal immigrant. She still spoke in an old fashioned way as though she was someone who had learned English from a textbook. Combined with the fact she had arrived without any spare clothes and the fact that she had supposedly lived for a long while in Cornwall, she didn’t know the Cornish word ‘tiddlyoggie’. Frieda added two and two and made five.
“I don’t know if it will be more restful,” Eric replied, “it just brings me nearer to what happened to you.”
“Yes, but it will get you away from the computer screen dear and into the fresh air.”
Violet had provided some clothing for him at the cottage but nothing fitted very well so she suggested he asked the seamstress in the village to make him some. “I mustn’t show myself much because my face is so easily recognised. Perhaps we should say you bought the house from me and are the new owner but you will only be using it on occasions when you can get away from Town.”
“But what about money?”
“I’ve plenty for things like that, even after buying the house.”
“How? Did you have to steal it? Could you carry it as a ghost?”
Violet laughed, “It was easier than that. I knew father kept a good deal of money in boxes hidden in the house but he never told anyone including me where it was and in fact he had several hiding places for them. When he died, we couldn’t find any and as there were plenty of other funds we gave up looking. After I became a wandering soul I went back in time and watched him over a period of several weeks until I finally saw him go through the boxes and put them away. They were all in his study behind sprung panels. I then forwarded myself to a time when I was solid, opened the panels and brought them here.”
“But how did you buy this place before you were a spirit and had the money?”
“Chance. I was half afraid Geoffrey might send men to my house and catch me off guard and forcibly bring me back even though I did have several men on duty at the house to try and prevent it. However, I also knew there were a number of escape routes from the mansion and thought I could get away to a remote place and hide out there for a bit. This place seemed isolated enough and yet was quite close to the railway should I want to get to London and lose myself there. All father’s bank accounts were in my name by then so I used an agent to do the buying. Nobody local saw my face.”
“Wasn’t it a bit embarrassing to watch your father without him knowing?”
“After all I had been through by then, nothing was really embarrassing but I did learn things about him I never suspected. Of course by then I hadn’t lived at home for about five years. Five years I suffered at Geoffrey’s hands before I could flee. No doubt you want all the sordid sexual details so that you can add it to the story, although it isn’t relevant until later. I had to go back many times before I pieced together the story. It starts about ten months before he died....”
“Mother caught a chill one November soon after their return from Italy. The chill turned to bronchitis and then pneumonia. The doctors could do nothing and within days she was dead. Father was distraught. They had been together for thirty years and were devoted to each other. I don’t believe father ever had anyone else while she was alive. Geoffrey and I attended the funeral but he wouldn’t let me stay with father afterwards to comfort him. He knew only too well that I would never have returned. 
Father moped about doing nothing, seeing no one except the servants who brought him food and whiskey. About a week after the funeral, he’d had far too much of the whiskey and was staggering to his bed and almost fell. Sylvia, one of the maids about forty-five years old was passing and caught him. She had lost her husband in a farming accident a year previously and still felt the effects of her loss. Sylvia undressed father, helped him pee in the pot under the bed and got him into bed. There he lay crying and calling out for Bertha, my mother. On impulse it seemed to me, Sylvia undressed too and climbed into bed and put her arms around him and held him close until they both fell asleep. Both awoke in the morning still holding the other. 
“Sylvia, what are you doing in here? How did I get to bed last night? Did we...?”
“It’s alright Sir. You had a little too much of the whiskey so I put you to bed but you were in such a state for missing your wife, and I was missing my hubby so I climbed in with you and we comforted each other. And no Sir, we didn’t do anything but if you feel like it, then I won’t mind either. It’s been a year since I last felt a cock in me.”
“Sylvie, oh Sylvie, I shouldn’t. It’s too soon since Bertha...” He broke off crying again. Sylvia held him close to her breasts and the smell of them must have stimulated his cock although I couldn’t see under the blankets, because I could tell they slowly rolled into a position where he was on top and was fucking her. 
When the motions finished Sylvia held father tight for some time until he started to apologise for what he had done and to show some remorse as if it was his fault. Sylvia chided him saying, “Lord no, Sir. No need to apologise. It did us both good. Still I’d better be getting on with me work.” She showed her buxom naked body as she got up, peed in the pot and then dressed in front of the mirror. I saw father watching with interest but could tell he was fighting with his conscience.
Next evening he was sitting in his study and had a glass of whiskey in front of him. Sylvia knocked and boldly went in. “Sir,” she said, “There is no needs for you to get yourself blind drunk each night in the hope that what happened will go away. It won’t. That part of your life had gone. You have to move on and booze don’t help. It holds you back. Let me take this bottle away while you savour the flavour of what’s in the glass and then I’ll come back and talk with you for as long as you want, about anything you want. Jest for the company you understand and then if you want some comfort in bed too, then I’ll supply that too.” And she did that. That sat and talked and talked. Sylvia was a bit of a gossip and the conversation flowed. And she did comfort him in bed that night and for several more nights after that. She was a bit conservative by the standards at Studenhall but she freely sucked him until he was hard enough to get it in.
After a month or so, father began taking more interest in things around him again and even eyed up some of the younger maids. One, Kathleen, a vivacious redhead, openly eyed him too but it wasn’t for love. She shared a room having only one large bed with another young maid and was whispering to her one night when I followed her in. “It will be one up on old Sylvie if I can get into his bed and if I can get him to marry me then I shan’t have to work no more and...” she giggled, “Maybe I shall get to boss you about.” The pair then romped on the bed and then disappeared under the blankets still giggling and playing with each other.
She did get into his bed one night and turned in a very creditable performance. She sucked his cock and allowed him to service her cunt. Then vigorously rode him to a climax. I am sure it made father feel young again. I saw him have her in his study on one occasion and believe he had her at other times but in the end it was Sylvia who he would have wed had he lived.
“Did you ever have to make love to women?” Eric asked his curiosity peeked after hearing about Kathleen and her friend.
“Of course. Many times.” Violet answered, “And I might have taken to lesbianism naturally and even enjoyed it if the circumstances had been similar to Kathleen and the other maid, Margie. As was Geoffrey’s wont, I was forced into it although he didn’t directly order it at least not the first time, but must have known it would happen.”
I had been married about a month when Geoffrey had to go away for a few days. By then I could walk reasonably well and my breasts, although still showing some colouring, I could touch them gently without pain. Since the first thrashing I was careful not to anger him and had only received a couple of hand spankings which, because my bottom was still tender hurt badly, and one session with the tawse. The tawse was the favourite instrument for general punishment of servants in that household. It hurt like Hell when it hit but didn’t bruise or leave bad marks for more than a day or two and if the number given wasn’t too large, a girl could continue work shortly after. 
The general punishment tawses, and there were many scattered strategically around the house, were a little over eighteen inches long by about two wide and a quarter of an inch thick with the end nine inches split into two tongues. It was the bootboy’s job to ensure they were well oiled and ready for use. I received the ‘standard’ twelve strokes from Flora who happened to be Geoffrey’s other bed partner that night. I was accused of not putting enough effort in sucking him and Flora was ordered to lay on the punishment while I kept my lips around his cock. There was of course the threat of further punishment if there were any signs of teeth marks on his flesh afterwards.
Flora of course knew she had to lay the strokes on hard enough to satisfy her master or she would receive a dose herself. I was soon squirming and desperately trying to keep in position and not bite. Fortunately I managed it, even though my bottom was still very tender from my first day.
Anyway, when Geoffrey was about to leave and I had begun to wonder if I could get away from his house, he summoned Grace and Martha. “I charge the two of you with looking after my wife while I am away. One of you at least must keep her in sight at all times. No matter what she does, or where she is, one of you must be present.” I noticed smug smiles on their faces when they heard this. “And make sure she behaves herself. Use the tawse if she doesn’t.”
Martha had to go to a nearby farm soon after so Grace was in charge of me. For an hour or so she made me work alongside her cleaning one of the rooms and then she dragged me into a lavatory. Servants were supposed to use an outside privy but because I was there she decided to upgrade herself. As soon as she’d sat down she ordered me to lift my skirt. After a month in that house I had no problem showing her my sex until she pulled me close and started to tongue my slit. At first I just stood and allowed it but after some minutes of her sucking my clit, I became very aroused and pushed myself at her. “Oooh,” she said, “The Mistress likes women as well as men. Martha will be pleased.” I just thought, “If it doesn’t hurt, let them do it.”
I heard Grace start peeing but the flow was short and then she stood and we reversed places. When she lifted her skirt and pushed her vagina at me I knew what she expected. “Open your mouth Violet, I know you have learned to do this for master and others so you can do it for me.” My first thought was how disrespectful she was to use my name. Servants should only address me as ‘Ma’am’ or ‘M’lady’. Grace was getting above her station but by now she had her pee hole pressed over my mouth and I had to swallow. Afterwards she surprised me further by kissing me open mouthed. I am certain she could taste her piss in my mouth.
Later, when Martha was in charge of me, she did exactly the same thing. It was the first time I had seen her cunt close to. She was a well-built woman and had a dense growth of pubic hair, which smelled somewhat of stale urine, but, as I said, by now I wasn’t bothered by it. When it is a choice between a taste or a smell and a thrashing, I knew which to choose. For the whole day I was made to work like a servant with them and to eat my meals in the kitchen. I didn’t mind that part, as it was far less formal and much friendlier than in the dining hall. Mind you I was the butt of many jokes from them, but they were generally good-humoured and not nasty. They knew I was as much or more of a servant than they were. They also knew Grace and Martha were lovers and there were giggles when Grace announced the only way to keep and eye on me during the night was for me to sleep between her and Martha.
When bedtime came, Martha brought a pan of hot water to their room and added it to the cold in the washbowl. It was the first warm water for washing I had since arriving at Studenhall. It surprised me the servants enjoyed luxuries I didn’t. Grace made me wash them from head to toe and to pay special attention to their sex areas. They did the same for me. In fact when alone with them in their room I was treated with a warmth and kindness I never expected.
Another surprise came when they gave me a pair of thick socks to wear. I couldn’t figure out why until I was ordered head first into bed and it all became clear. My feet were out in the cold above the headboard while my head was under the blankets level with their cunts. For over an hour, I had to lick their vaginas and suck their clits while they did the same for me. Actually it wasn’t too unpleasant except when Martha farted and I got the full force of the smell in the confines of the bed. Through their ministrations I climaxed several times. 
Geoffrey was away for a week and each night I had sex with them in one way or another. Even when Martha had her monthly period, there was no let up. I certainly didn’t get any enjoyment in sucking her then. Grace gave me a dozen with the tawse the day before Geoffrey returned ‘because I was becoming lazy’. Truth was I thought after our nighttime sessions I could get away with things but I found out I couldn’t. Mind you, while it hurt she certainly didn’t lay it on as hard as she might.
*****
Eric burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he apologised, “The picture it conjured up in my mind of a pair of bed socks clad feet spread wide on a headboard while two lezzies play with you just seemed comical.”
“Well at least you have lost some of your sombre mood now. Shall we go for a walk or have a session on the bed?” Violet replied as she kissed him.

Chapter 11. Paying the debt
Feeling more relaxed after three days at the 1866 cottage, Eric asked if they should do another chapter for the book. 
“If you wish, but I must warn you, the previous chapters may seem mild by comparison. I know you like stories of group sex, rape and whipping, but I don’t know how it will affect your mind when I am the victim. First though let me set the scene by describing a comparatively mild night’s gambling at cards.”
Geoffrey as I have told you was an inveterate gambler particularly at cards. Unfortunately he was not very good at it but neither were most of his friends. Nevertheless he lost more often than he won. If he lost all his ready cash early on in the session, I would be brought in and used as collateral. A quick fuck at the end bought him £5 worth of chips; and all night session, £20. At first I despised him for using me for his gambling debts but I soon found it was better or at least, less painful, to spend to spend the night with whoever won than with Geoffrey after he had lost a good deal of money. The others just fucked me hard before we went to sleep and again when we woke. In general they were quite kind to me. 
You may wonder why he didn’t use one of the prettier servants as collateral. I gather he tried it at one time and had his knuckles rapped. Servants couldn’t be considered his property and the father of one girl tried to have him charged with forcing girls into prostitution. Geoffrey managed to buy and worm his way out of it but hadn’t dared try it again especially as all the servants had be warned about it. Servants who co-operated with him with his friends did it because they supposedly wanted to. Most of the friends who used their sexual services did give them presents or money and they accepted this. As a wife I was rarely offered either money or given a present. I was just Lord Geoffrey’s property and as he constantly reminded me, I must obey him.
Possibly because I lost my virginity late in life my vagina was tight and after use quickly shrank back again. You have noticed that too. If they couldn’t see my face, they could imagine they were fucking a young maiden instead of a relatively old woman and this seemed to give them a good deal of pleasure. There was also the kudos of fucking a titled Lady. A Lady who was the wife of a friend.
When Sir Percy Greville joined them at cards, Geoffrey lost even more. Sir Percy not only knew how to play but also was not averse to dealing from the bottom of the pack and using other sleight of hand tricks. These things I suspected when they were happening for real and was able to confirm them with my flights back in time.
Sir Percy had made most of his money when the slave trade was in its heyday but now relied more on income from a chain of brothels he set up around the country, the most notorious of which was that of Madame Warboys in Central London. I personally knew him as being even more sadistic than Geoffrey. Twice I’d had to spend the night with him to pay Geoffrey’s debts and each time he used the tawse between my legs and on my nipples before fucking me as hard as possible. On the particular night we will go to and which was to cause me so much suffering, Geoffrey had been drinking and losing heavily. At the end of the evening he was in debt to the tune of a colossal £525. In those days or should I say, these days since we are already back in 1866, it was or is a fortune. It’s equivalent to ten years wages for most of the staff. Watching the game, I could tell Sir Percy was deliberately not mentioning Geoffrey debt as it grew and I was fearful that he had plans for me. I was right!
“Are you ready to go back and watch that episode?” Violet enquired, “It will be the worst one for you but remember, I came through it although it did take a long while before I fully recovered.”
Eric stated that he was as ready as he would ever be but inwardly wondered just how much worse things could get from what had already been done to her.
Violet gave him a hug and a kiss, told him to be brave and then took his hand and whisked him back a few more years until they arrived towards the end of the evening’s card games.
“Well that is £525 you owe me Geoffrey,” Sir Percy remarked, “Let’s call it a round £500 seeing we are friends. Lord Robert if I might have £35 from you and Michael £25.” Robert and Michael sat each side Sir Percy and with a little good-natured grumbling about the run of the cards, they paid up.
“Will you take the wife for the night in lieu of payment, Sir Percy?” Geoffrey asked.
“Oh come now Lord Geoffrey, one night with your wife is not worth £500. In any case I can get plenty of ladies in my own houses. Ladies far prettier than your wife.” They all knew he meant the ladies of pleasure in his whorehouses.
“You won’t take an IOU?”
“Geoffrey, you know it is against our rules. Besides I would probably have to wait months before you either won enough elsewhere to pay me or until one of your ships docks with its cargo. Perhaps you’ll have to sell part of the estate but that could takes weeks too.”
“Would you take my wife for a week then?”
“As I said Geoffrey, I have no need for another woman of pleasure.” Sir Percy paused. “Perhaps...?”
“What is it man?” Geoffrey thought he saw a little hope. He knew Sir Percy could be ruthless with debtors and was half suspecting him to suggest passing a piece of property to him which when sold would raise far more than £500.
“I know you regularly chastise your wife, as of course you should. We do have clients that like to chastise women too but it is not easy to persuade the regular girls to allow it and of course it takes them away from their normal duties and can keep them from work for a week or so. How about letting your wife become one of my girls for a week until she earns an amount equivalent to your debt?”
“For one week only? And no permanent damage?”
“Yes, I will return her next Sunday evening. She will be well marked of course but nothing that won’t heal in time.” The pair shook hands on the deal. 
Violet tried to protest but received a slap across her face from Geoffrey. “I have no choice woman and in any case it will be nice not to see your ugly face for a week.”
“Get a length of cord and a cloak for her Geoffrey, if you please. I wish to bind her hands so she cannot run easily and in this weather she might catch a cold and die before she’s earned her money.” With that the party broke up. Robert and Michael wished Percy good luck with her and each left in their respective coaches.
*****
Ghost Violet sprang them forward in time by a couple of hours to Sir Percy’s bedroom where he was showing his prize to Edwina his wife. “You think we can earn £500 with her in a week?” Edwina was saying, “Even the attractive girls can’t earn that much,” she added scathingly.
“Only because they don’t allow themselves to be well and truly thrashed. This one doesn’t have a choice.”
“Ah, yes, I can see they way you’re thinking now,” Edwina responded, “We can allow her to be well whipped and get clients to pay to see it done. I’d like to see it done too. How will we go about it? With a face like that we can’t sit her in one of Madame Warboys windows.”
“It’s late now. Let’s discus it in the morning. I’ll just tie her to the bedpost unless you want her in bed with us.” Percy tied her wrists to the foot of the bed.
*****
Eric felt himself on the move again and when he looked, wintry sun shone through the windows. Percy and Edwina were stirring and a maid brought in breakfast. She was ordered to untie Violet from the bed, take her to the kitchen and feed her without untying her wrists. She was to be brought back when the maid came to clear away the breakfast things. Violet hadn’t slept. The floor was hard, her position uncomfortable and the knowledge she was to be used as a whipping block for sadistic men frightened her badly.
On her return, her wrists were released and Edwina crisply ordered, “Undress completely.” Edwina inspected her body thoroughly and poked her fingers in every orifice. “You’re right, Percy, she is a tight one. If we can hide the head, she’s got quite a fair body. Nice plump arse which can take plenty of punishment. Titties too are well rounded. We might well make a bit from her if clients are allowed a fairly free rein on what they do.”
“Lady Violet,” Sir Percy began, “I have decided how you will pay off Geoffrey’s debt in one week. Unfortunately as you have gathered it will be quite painful for you but really that is not my concern except in that I must keep my part of the bargain and return you next Sunday with no marks that won’t heal in time. They may take a long time to heal but your husband didn’t specify a time limit on that. We will take you to Madame Warboys establishment. Tonight and until Wednesday, you will be offered at £15 a time. For that a client can lay on ten strokes with a lightish tawse on any part of your body, even the very tender areas and afterwards they can fuck you in any hole they desire. Thursday and Friday you will be allowed to recover ready for Saturday evening when we will be staging a tableaux in which you will be the star.”
Violet tried to plead with him even though she knew it was a waste of time. Sir Percy ignored the pleas and added a warning, “One other thing you have to remember, Violet, you must earn £1,000 in the week, not £500. Madame Warboys takes half of what you earn for her own expenses and for the upkeep of her establishment.”
Fast forwarding in time by only a few hours, Eric and Violet found themselves in a sumptuously decorated room. Madame Warboys parlour. Five young men in their early twenties were arguing or rather haggling with her. One named Tom seemed to be the spokesman. 
“Madame Warboys, you have advertised that for £15 we can stroke Lady Theyer ten times with the tawse and then have her in any way. There are five of us. Could you not see your way to allowing us all this service for £65? A small discount I think you will agree when it all comes in as one lump sum with no waiting for the next client to turn up.” The Madame demurred but in the end Tom’s persuasive tongue won the day.
“No longer than an hour and a half,” were her parting words as she instructed a burly man to show the gentlemen to the lady’s cellar. “Josh will remain in a corner out of the way but won’t interfere unless you break the conditions.”
In ghost form, Eric and Violet followed them. Violet was sitting on a low bed wrapped in a blanket. “She’s only had one client before you, Sirs,” Josh informed them. 
Tom removed the blanket and asked the others to bring the lamps closer so they could have a better look. Her back, breasts, groin and buttocks all showed the tell-tale bluish stripes left by the tawse. A little spunk dribbled from her vagina. “Looks like her previous client tickled her a bit all over,” he remarked, “I think what we will do is to concentrate on sensitive areas. We’ve only an hour and a half to play with her so I suggest that to get the most fuck time in, we get to thrashing her now. We do it all in one go so she is nice and sore and sensitive for fucking afterwards.” The others seemed to be in agreement.
“Help me string her up by her ankles with her legs apart, then we’ll give her cunt a good baker’s dozen, same to her tits and a dozen each to her belly and arse. That’ll use up our allotted fifty,” Tom continued.
“Do you know what they mean by a baker’s dozen, Eric?” asked Violet.
“Of course. I am just old enough to remember our local baker giving 13 rolls if you asked for a dozen,” Eric replied.
“Yes, and they are going to do it in the cruellest way possible.”
By now the young Violet they were watching was tied upside down from the rafters with her crotch wide open. Her hands hung down but they couldn’t quite reach the floor. Tom took his stance in front of her, his breeches showing a distinct bulge. Without any hesitation he brought the tawse crashing down centrally on her slit. The split ends followed around the crease of her arse and bit into her anal opening. A horrendous scream came from the victim but she wasn’t given any time to recover. Three more strokes followed one after the other with very little pause.
Tom examined the result. “Her cunt lips are swelling nicely,” he announced, “By the time we’re done the opening will almost be closed so it will grip our pricks tightly and they’ll be nice and tender so she’ll feel it when we push them apart and give her a good fucking. Too many of these high-born ladies like to keep their cunts unavailable except in exceptional circumstances. Well Lady Theyer, these are exceptional circumstances.” Without more ado he laid on the final six strokes. Violet’s hoarse cries faded at the ninth as she passed out. The cruel youths laughed at her swinging lifeless and carried on with her punishment. 
Harry put the final three of the baker’s dozen on her crotch and then had her hauled a little higher so he could start lashing her tits. The others thought it fun to swing Violet so she swung up to meet each stroke of the tawse. Harry had almost finished his session when his victim started to regain consciousness. Nevertheless the others carried on until by the end of the fiftieth Violet was just a swinging limp mass of tortured flesh. 
“My God, Vi, how can people do this to a helpless woman?” Eric’s jelly form was shaking although Violet was trying to hold and comfort him. 
“Everyone was more cruel in those days but there were a few that had the power and temperament to be real sadists and Madame Warboys catered for their tastes.” They stayed and watched as Tom unmercifully raped the girl who was now thrown down on the bed and then Violet whisked them both back to the 2001 cottage. It had more comforts than its quaint 1866 predecessor and Violet wanted to hold him tight. 
It took over an hour before Eric was reasonably calm. “All this whipping and stuff is alright in one’s imagination,” he said, “But not when it is for real and when it is happening to the woman you love.”
Frieda called by just as he was beginning to compose himself. She remarked that Eric seemed upset. “He dosed off and had a bit of a nightmare,” explained Violet but she could see Frieda didn’t believe her.
Next morning it poured with rain so they stayed in and did a general cleaning of the house before settling down in the conservatory. “You do realise, dear, that there is worse to come.” Violet opened the conversation. “But perhaps I ought to finish that episode.”
“As you saw, I wasn’t aware of what was happening all the time. I vaguely remember each of the youths having me at least once and one of them used my bottom hole as well. I do remember Josh bringing Madame Warboys down and she castigated him for letting it happen. He answered that she had told him to leave them alone provided they kept to the rules. “They used to rules to the full,” he said, “But they didn’t break any.”
I remember being carried upstairs and washed and salve being put on and given a dose of the morphine mixture. Having gone back since and watched, I saw they did indeed take the greatest care of me. Polly, an elderly rather portly lady, was in charge and she seemed to have sympathy for me and treated me very gently. Madame Warboys came in the next afternoon and grumbled because she said Polly had given me too much morphine and I would not be able to earn anything that day. Polly had been there long enough to stand her ground with her employer. “Rachel,” she said, “Do you want this lady reasonably fit for Saturday or not? It’s going to be a full time job to get her looking at all decent by then. Then she’s got to go through it all again and worse I expect.” Fortunately at the time I didn’t hear the conversation. All I vaguely remember is a somewhat euphoric state for a few days.

Chapter 12. Inquisition
“Are you really ready to go back again?” Violet enquired. It was a week after their return from witnessing her thrashing at the hands of the youths.
“I’m as ready as I will ever be. From what you say we are nearing the end of this epic and I would like to get it over with now Vi.”
“Very well dear. Just remember that I came through it and survived. I am sorry now that I involved you in this but when selecting you I never expected to become emotionally involved. Having gone this far, I know we cannot really leave it unfinished otherwise you will always be wondering what happened not only on the Saturday evening but afterwards.”
*****
Linking their fluid hands, Eric shaking with trepidation, they went behind the scenes and watched the girls prepare young Violet for her part in the production. The girls had no idea of the torture to be inflicted on her. All they had been told was to dress and make Lady Violet look like an innocent young nun. Carefully they applied white make-up to cover the bruises still showing on her body. Each time their hands touched the flesh Violet winced with the pain. Polly had been forbidden to give her morphine that day; the Madame wanted her audience to see her alert and feeling the all the pain. Sir Percy and his wife were watching and they owned the premises. She knew they wanted to see her ladyship suffer as well as to pay off her debt.
Lady Theyer cried out as the heavy dress was pulled over her and the headdress put on. It had been chosen to conceal much of her facial scarring. Madame Warboys entered. “You are to act the part of an innocent nun. They will try to make you renounce your religion and you are to hold on to your faith until the end.” Violet visibly started at the words ‘until the end’ and began to ask if she was to be killed but before she could get the words out, Madame Warboys smiled evilly and went on, “Even if you do renounce your faith, you will still be punished. That is what the people out there have paid to see and that is what you are being paid to receive. Take her on to the stage.” 
Waiting in the wings were two burly, bare-chested men of Mediterranean origin dressed in Moorish trousers. Grabbing the ‘nun’ they dragged her screaming on to the stage. Her screams were real as they dragged her tormented body to the claps and jeers of the audience. Unceremoniously they dumped her in a heavy chair. Violet looked around to see if there was any chance she might escape. There was none. All she could see was the backdrop painted to look like a dungeon and the apparatus and devices that might be used on her. A small brazier was alight in one corner with a small boy operating a bellows that pumped air through it to keep it glowing fiercely and to minimise the smoke although already the set was shrouded in it from when the fire was lit. It added reality to the scene.
Another man, this time fully dressed in the costume of the Moors appeared in front of her. Speaking with a foreign accent he said, “I am Ahmed and you are now in a Moroccan prison after you were captured by our illustrious warship captain. I am sent to try you for openly showing your distaste for our faith by displaying yourself in this garb; this uniform of the infidels, the unbelievers. It is my duty to change this false belief of yours and punish you for such indecent flouting of our laws while sailing through our waters.”
“Please let me go...” 
“All in due time. First you must renounce your Christian infidel faith and agree to follow in the footsteps of Allah, the one and only true God” 
At that period, Violet was a devout Catholic. She prayed whenever she was able but since her marriage had been never been allowed by her husband to attend church. Despite this she firmly believed in the power of the Almighty. She quietly answered, “No,” and then went on to recite some Hail Mary’s in the hope some Divine power might come to her aid. It was a grand gesture, one that impressed the audience but it was the wrong thing to do in front of her inquisitor.
“So!” he screamed, “You reject our offer and then ask for help from your own worthless deity. We shall see what it takes to change your mind and whether he comes to your aid or not.” Turning to the men standing at her side, he ordered, “Cut her dress from her but to give her God a chance leave that stupid head-dress on so he may recognise her as one of his if he has the power to help.”
Producing wicked looking curved knives from their waistbands, the men swiftly shredded Violets clothing until she sat naked apart from the habit that covered her face and head. In the flickering light her whitened skin shone pale. She looked a virgin. Tears she couldn’t stop flowed freely down her face.
“You believe that a so called prophet you call Jesus suffered on the cross and then died. Let us see if your beliefs are as strong when you suffer the same treatment. Bring the cross forward.” A large wooden cross on a wheeled carriage was pushed forward. It differed from the usual pictures of the crucifixion cross by having a stout dowel seven inches long set into the main upright about four feet from the floor. Its purpose became clear when the men were ordered to fasten her to the cross.
Picking her up, the sat her firmly on dowel making sure her cuntal lips were wide open so her weight was directly on the tender internal flesh that had so recently suffered from the tawse. She could hardly bear to touch herself there let alone put he whole body weight on it. A terrible scream came from her mouth but Ahmed only laughed. “Well your God should have heard that!” he remarked. Violet continued to scream and to call on God for help but to no avail. The men now stood on low platforms that were set on the carriage either side of the cross and buckled Violet’s wrists to the cross beam and then fastened another strap around each arm and the cross piece nearer to her shoulders.
Ghost Violet spoke to Eric, “When they first put me on the cross I panicked because I feared they would nail my hands and feet but they used the straps instead. In a way it gave me some courage because I felt they were heading Geoffrey’s condition that I wouldn’t be permanently damaged. However, it proved false courage. I tried to see who was watching but most of the lights were on me and I couldn’t see much except a few candles. Thinking of all those watching caused me to blush but I don’t think many could see it under all the white make-up.”
Ahmed moved close to the cross and inserted his fingers alongside the dowel and tried to force them inside her but there was too much pressure on the pole. “I can feel you are sitting comfortably,” he said, causing more mirth from the onlookers, “Do you remember what they did to your saint next?” Violet either didn’t hear or didn’t know what to answer so her inquisitor went on, “No? They scourged him and that is what we are going to do with you. We will whip the faith from you as the Romans tried to with Jesus. Show her the scourge!”
One of the assistants brought forward a knotted cat o’ nine tails. Violet cried out in horror at the sight of the weapon. It would surely tear her to pieces. “NO! No! No! Please no. You’ll kill me! You’ll mark me for life!”
“I don’t think your faith is helping much,” Ahmed said. “We don’t know what the Romans actually used but they were a brutal people and would have used some sort of heavy whip. This cat is of the type that was used in the navy on seamen who tried to jump ship or mutiny. Often they would be sentenced to a hundred lashes and died before the sentence was complete.” He swished it through the air. It made a horrible sound as he crashed it on nearby woodwork. There were gasps from the audience at the sound.
“You’ll kill me ......”
“Christ died. You too will have to take that chance. I am not giving you a set number of lashes, we’ll just go on until ... well until we’ve made some pretty patterns on your body.” He passed the cat to his assistant, “Abdul, show us your skill with this. Whip her long. Make her wish you would hit just a bit harder so death would come quicker.” Abdul did just that. Slowly and painstakingly and with deadly accuracy he swung the heavy whip back and forth over the front of her body. It became a mass of bleeding welts. Each time she appeared to be failing, a bucket of water was thrown over her and each time she revived the assault began again. Although he worked from the front, Abdul’s skill was such that the tips always curled round the unfortunate victim’s back leaving only the area along the spine protected by the post untouched. There came a time when, several douses of water failed to bring her round and Ahmed ordered the whipping to be stopped and Violet was released. 
By this time Eric was trying his utmost to distract the whipping but even though he shouted at the top of his voice, only ghost Violet heard him. In his frustration, he pleaded to be taken back to his home time but for once Violet refused his request. “Not yet dearest. It is not quite over yet. Remember I did come through it.”
“Are you ready to relinquish your unworthy faith now?” Ahmed shouted. Violet was once again in the hard chair. Only vaguely did she hear the words. “No?” Ahmed answered for her. “Well then we must continue. I believe the women who wear this uniform,” he indicated the head-dress, “Are supposed to be virgins. We know you unbelievers will go to hell and Satan and his followers have their evil way with all the women so we had better prepare you for him. We must warm up your tight little cunt.” Violet really had no idea what he was talking about but her fogged mind knew it had to be unpleasant and very painful. Would she be raped again?
“Strap her legs over the arms of the chair so she is wide open and ready for a hot cock.” Ghost Violet held Eric tightly as they watch the scene. Young Violet, her tender body criss-crossed with welts that were running with rivulets of blood, now fastened open legged ready to be raped. No sound came from the watchers. 
“Abdul, get the hot cock.” Abdul went to the brazier and pulled out a long rod about an inch thick. The end sprinkled sparklers of hot metal as he tapped it on the hearth and then strode and held it a foot away from Violet’s cunt. Slowly he advanced the fiery end towards it target. Feeling the heat get ever closer, Violet’s mind shut out the scene and she slipped back into unconsciousness. It didn’t prevent Abdul edging the end closer. Had she been aware, Violet would have felt the intense heat start to scorch her flesh at two inches away.
“HOLD!!” Three men with rapiers, leapt on to the stage. The rod dropped to the floor causing a momentary fire before the boy at the brazier collected it. The Inquisitor and his assistants were driven into a corner and supposedly pierced by the swords. Violet was released but she couldn’t stand. The curtain closed. Moments later it opened again to wild cheers from the audience. The three musketeers, for that is who they were supposed to be, bowed and waved their hats and then between them picked up Violet and carried her to the very front of the stage where everyone could see her closely.
“Please Ladies and Gentlemen,” boomed one of the musketeers, “Will you give a big hand to the star of this show, Lady Violet Theyer.”
*****
Back in the 1866 cottage, Eric and Violet comforted each other. They decided to spend a couple of days there before returning to Eric’s time so they could get over the trauma of what they witnessed without interruption from Freida. Eventually they were stable enough for Eric to ask what happened after the show.
“Polly looked after me that night and on Sunday I was taken back first to Sir Percy’s where he and Edwina examined my body closely, and then on to Studenhall. It was a painful and nerve wracking journey. I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t lie. They did put a feather mattress for me on the floor, which helped a bit, and I was given the morphine but even the full dose seemed to have little effect. 
Beyers, Martha and Grace carried me into the house and laid me in one of the guestrooms. I was surprised at how much care Martha and Grace took of me. Geoffrey looked in that first evening and even he was shocked by the state I was in. He didn’t check on me again for some weeks. I gather, he was actually kept away from me. Very slowly I recovered but it was months before I could move or walk normally and without pain.

Chapter 13. Escape
“What happened between the time of the Inquisition scene and your murder?” enquired Eric. They had been back in 2001 for a fortnight and the episode was now on disk. “Surely not too much could happened to you in that period?”
They were sitting comfortably on the settee in front of a blazing fire. Violet turned the television off and took up the narrative.
Geoffrey largely left me alone for a while. I had my own room. Flora became my personal maid as Mildred was very pregnant and then had her baby, probably Geoffrey’s or one of his guests, and all the staff now seemed to treat me with respect. While they wouldn’t disobey a direct order from Geoffrey, they used a very free interpretation of them to my benefit. Geoffrey sensed this but didn’t want a major staff revolt and he had enough financial worries to keep him occupied. His business sense was about as good as his card playing so debts mounted and he had to sell off part of the farmland to save him from losing the house. He also reduced the number of staff, particularly the outdoor staff to under half their original number.
It was about three weeks before I could venture down the stairs and then only with help. I started to take my meals in the kitchen until Geoffrey ordered me to eat dinner with him in the dining room. We ate almost in silence and even when he had guests, I limited my conversation to monosyllabic answers.
It must have been a month or more after the Inquisition that he came to my room late at night. He’d been drinking. Dismissing Flora who had taken to sleeping in a small bed in my room so as to be on hand if I needed help in the night, he ripped the blankets back and slurringly said, “It’s time you took on your wifely duties again. Get that nightdress off. You know you aren’t allowed to wear anything in bed.”
I was fearful that he might want to whip me again and quickly, or as quickly as I could, removed the nightdress. Although the marks from the cat had begun to fade my body still looked like a fishing net with all the red welts and scabby places where the knots and whip ends had cut me. Leaning over me, Geoffrey felt my breasts causing me to whimper in pain. “Still just a little tender I see,” he said. That was a gross understatement. With some trepidation I watched him undress and waited for the inevitable pain as he climbed on top and entered me. It was just bearable so I lay there quietly and let him have his way. It wasn’t long before his sperm flooded my inside. Afterwards he looked angry and instead of offering his cock for me to suck clean he slapped my face hard. “Stupid bitch. Haven’t you learned yet you are supposed to fuck me back and not lie there dead?”
My cry brought Flora to the room followed by Beyers. Beyers picked up Geoffrey and carried him still naked to his bedroom. One of the maids followed with his clothes. In my later wanderings I wondered why Geoffrey didn’t stop them or didn’t fire them later but curiously he never said a word and neither did they. The maid pulled the bedclothes back on his bed, Beyers dropped him in and then covered him. Not a single word was said. Thereafter Geoffrey only spanked or used the tawse when he thought he could justify its use. It was another month before he made use of my body again and being less sore I did try and co-operate and respond to him.
Whenever Geoffrey went away, Grace and Martha were still ordered to keep me under strict observation but now they were much more liberal in their interpretation of the instructions and came to my room at night and slept with me and even dragged Flora into our sexual games.
For some months life at Studenhall was reasonable for me. I still had to entertain Geoffrey friends when they played cards or came over for a social evening. Sir Percy though was never invited. 
In six months health-wise I was almost back to my original self. I still got twinges of pain when I made certain moves and I had nightmares but they had become much rarer. 
About this time my parents came home from Italy. It was a chilly Autumn here and they had left the warmth of the Italian sun. It was probably this that caused my mother to contract the bronchitis and die within the month. I was heartbroken having seen them only once since their return. Geoffrey was afraid I might run home to stay. He would lose face and would lose the small income my money brought. Before their return, the house was empty with only a few caretaking staff to stop the place falling apart. I couldn’t have stayed there without further financial help.
Somehow father heard of what happened to me and when I refused to leave, threatened Geoffrey if he ever harmed me again. He also knew of Geoffrey’s mounting debts, not just from gambling but from general trading. All his inherited capital was long gone and he was relying on two ships bringing him enough income to tide him over for another year. Unfortunately, largely because he hadn’t enough money to invest in the maintenance of the boats, they weren’t well enough equipped to ride out a storm in the Bay of Biscay. Both ships foundered within hours of each other. Geoffrey could now see the house sold and all the staff leaving him with nothing but more debt. 
I was asked to plead help from father but he refused to give a penny to the blaggard. He would ensure I was looked after but Geoffrey could go to the debtors prison for all he was concerned. It was not long after that father had his fatal riding accident except that I found out later it was no accident. Geoffrey had arranged his murder hoping that when I inherited the money, he would be able to get his hands on it. 
Father often rode along a nearby forest track and at one point there was an old oak with a low branch. He knew it was there, he knew the way round it but took great delight in ducking under at the last moment. To those that found him it seemed as if he left it too late. However, my retracing in time saw he had put a rope from the base of the branch and as father rode to it lowered it to catch him under the chin and dismount him. He gave father a swift blow to the forehead with a stout branch and that finished father.
To Geoffrey’s dismay, father’s solicitors had tied up the will so only I could get at any of the money. Geoffrey had to beg for loans and when I didn’t give in to his demands he threatened to thrash the money out of me. I gave him just enough to keep us in the house and made sure it went to whom it was supposed to go. However, I absolutely refused to pay his gambling debts and it was these demands that Geoffrey was most afraid of.
We had a visit one day from two large men who said they were debt collectors. When I refused to pay the exorbitant amount of the debt plus the high interest they charged Geoffrey suggested he might make me earn the money ‘like last time.’ Unfortunately for him, Henrietta was serving wine at the time and carried the remark back to the kitchen staff. Eventually though, the men agreed to call again at the end of the week, by which time Geoffrey said he would have persuaded me to pay.
That night, Beyers slept in my room on the spare bed and Flora in with me. We locked the door and put a chair under the knob. Geoffrey must have known this for he never came. He had to travel to London the next day to a shipping tribunal. The mate and some of the crew from one ship had managed to launch a lifeboat and survived the storm until they were picked up in the English Channel. Now they accused Geoffrey of endangering their lives by not properly maintaining the boat. The hearing was scheduled to last several days but Geoffrey hoped his part in it would be over in a few hours. He was very wrong.
The staff and I expected him to call on Madame Warboys while in London and arrange for my return visit so I deemed it wise to escape. Mildred when she heard came and asked to come with me and to bring the baby. She was followed by most of the other girls and surprisingly by Beyers. Grace and Martha decided to stay. They could handle Lord Geoffrey and even if they were thrown out, Grace’s mother had a guesthouse at Lowestoft where they could stay and find work there. At mid-morning break in the kitchen I explained the situation to them or at least the parts they didn’t really know. I told them I owned my father’s estate and had money enough to keep them in the short term at least. “There is already a full or nearly full compliment of staff there already so there could be some unrest if they think you are going to oust them. I will have to make it clear that your positions are temporary until you find other employment and I will be able to give you all a good reference.” I thanked them all for coming to my aid and again gave them the choice of coming on a temporary basis or staying at Studenhall. They all decided to come with me and in the end Grace and Martha decided to move to Lowestoft. 
As you might expect the rest of the morning was a flurry of activity with everyone packing. Cook made us our last lunch and left the kitchen with all the unwashed pans and plates on the tables. We took two carts and four horses and I left cash to pay for them and a note for Geoffrey to say he could buy them back later if he wanted.
You probably can’t imagine the look of surprise on the faces of the staff at The Beeches when we all arrived. They had no idea of what was going on until I called them all together and explained it to them. As I expected there were some that were disgruntled but most accepted the situation and eventually the two lots of staff mingled and worked out a satisfactory routine. Henrietta and Mary soon found other work as did Jones. Beyers and two of the groundsmen acted as bodyguards and had a routine for patrolling the grounds at night. For this I paid them a few shillings extra. I needn’t have worried too much. The tribunal tied Geoffrey up for three weeks during which time the debt collectors came and took away the silver ware and anything else valuable that was still left.
At the end of the first week the tribunal was adjourned until the Monday and it was dark on Friday before Geoffrey arrived back at Studenhall. By then the ground staff had all gone to look for other work because it was obvious they were neither going to be paid nor was there a cook to feed them. I went back to watch when I became a wandering soul. He arrived in the drive and yelled for the groom to get his horse. No one came. He yelled again. Not a soul about. Entering the house he came upon all the clutter left by our feverish exit. Still yelling he went into the kitchen. No fire, no food, just unwashed plates and congealing scraps. He swore blind he would kill me and that was the one thing he did actually do or as it turned out, half killed me.

Chapter 14. Afterwards
“What happened after you were killed or rather became a wandering soul?” Eric asked. “Were you able to stop Geoffrey getting his hands on the house and money?”
“I will take you to find out one day soon. Don’t worry it will be a much more pleasant experience but first you wanted to know what happened after my supposed death.
As I told you at the beginning, I walked to the 1866 cottage and stayed there for three days. Twice people came to search the place but each time I slipped back in time by a few hours so I was invisible to them. I thought long and hard on what to do. Should I remain hidden or reveal myself? I decided the latter was the best option. If I hid myself away and played dead the staff at The Beeches would lose their jobs and eventually after five years, I expect Geoffrey would have gained control of my money. After three days much of the soreness from the fall had gone. Still vivid bruises on my shoulders and back and stiffness in the arms but nothing I couldn’t manage especially after the sufferings that had been inflicted on me in the past.
Very late on the third night I transported myself to my bedroom at The Beeches and in real time became solid again. It was very dark but I could hear Flora sleeping on the small bed. Fumbling for the matches I lit a candle and in doing so woke her. “M’lady!” she cried, “You’re back. You’re alive!” She got out of bed and hugged me. 
“Shush,” I said, “We don’t want to wake the others.”
“I’m sure they will want to know, M’lady.”
“Yes, but not now. I’m very weary. I’ll talk to them all in the morning.” 
Flora helped me undress and then saw the bruising. “Did he do that?” she asked.
“Indirectly, but as I said, I’ll tell you all in the morning.” 
“We prayed you weren’t dead, Ma’am. And it seems our prayers were answered.” Poor Flora burst into tears. I hugged her and we ended up in bed together, kissing and cuddling. Soon though tiredness overcame me and I slept. 
In the morning, I awakened to find Flora’s fingers feeling my cunt and massaging my clit. “Naughty, naughty, Flora,” I laughed as I thrust my hand between her legs. It was such a joyous feeling to know that you are loved and Flora did love me. And it wasn’t just a sexual thing either. There was or should I say is, because I hope when I take you back you will see it for yourself, a great bond of affection between us. 
Next day, I called the staff together and told them I was back and things would carry on as normal. I did tell them that Geoffrey had thrown me from the train but as there was no way to prove it, not to spread it around. I knew of course that it wouldn’t be long before the whole neighbourhood knew and it would get back to Geoffrey.
“You will understand,” I went on, “That all the trauma’s I’ve been though in the past few years have left me a different person to what I was when I lived here with my father. I am sure there will be some things you will find strange. One thing particularly may perplex you. To rid my mind of some of the nightmares that still hide there, I will disappear from you for short periods of time, maybe days. Don’t worry yourselves over it. As a lonely child here I learned there are ways in and out of this place that are long since lost to your knowledge. I shall not tell any of you them because when I need to be alone, I really do need to be alone.”
“Is that how you got in when you came back?” Beyers asked, “All the doors and windows were locked and I did my patrol about that time and didn’t even see you come along the drive.”
“Don’t fret, Beyers. You couldn’t know my way of entering.”
I did indeed spend a lot of time away from the house although so much of it was in my wandering guise and as such, time was not recorded on the real time scale. I watched Geoffrey’s downfall. The tribunal had fined him £3,250 for negligence and causing the loss of lives on the ship. Studenhall was sold to pay for this and his many other debts. For a week or two he had a few funds left over from the sales but gambled them away and ended up in a cheap lodging house above an inn with a local prostitute to keep him company. Unfortunately she had contracted syphilis and passed it on to him. When she was unable to work, they nearly starved. One night Geoffrey beat her for not providing money or food and her screams were heard throughout the inn. Two big Russian sailors were in the bar at the time and went to her aid. Several days later Geoffrey’s body was found in the river and the sailors were well on their way back to their home country.
“Eric?”
“Yes dear.”
“Would you like to come to The Beeches as it is in 1866 and meet those who you have only seen as a ghost? Meet them in real time, my time? Can I introduce you as the one who saved me from death on the train by having caught me in my fall?” When Eric nodded in agreement she took his hand and whisked him away. They materialised in her bedroom and shocked Flora who was washing and preparing herself for bed.
“I wonder where she goes,” Flora muttered to herself. 
“Here and there Flora.” The poor woman jumped. She knew the door hadn’t opened and so the entrance had to be in this room and yet she had searched many times for it without any success.
“Oh Ma’am, you made me jump. I still don’t know how you get in.” Then she turned and saw Eric in rather shabby clothes. They had stopped at the cottage to change out of their 2001 attire before moving to The Beeches. Flora quickly covered her breasts with her arms. “Oh Lord,” she cried, “There’s a man with you.”
“Flora dear, you don’t have to cover yourself any more than you did at Studenhall. This is Eric Thacker and he is the man who broke my fall from the train and saved my life. He is the one I have been seeing in my absences from here.”
“Pleased to meet you Sir.” Flora did a little curtsy. “I expect you would like me to sleep in my room tonight Ma’am”
“No Flora, stay here. You’re well enough used to me entertaining men in my bed and assisting too. Eric won’t hurt you or me but he isn’t averse to seeing naked ladies and getting his cock into other cunts. Just remember though, and you too Eric, he is MY man even if I might share him with you and some of the others as a thank you for saving me. Now get us both undressed and we’ll all snuggle up together. I’m a free woman again now and I intend to enjoy myself.”

Finis