                      ____________________________
                     |                            |
                   /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                  / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
               __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
              ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
              (\\\ \  \_/  /                \  \_/  / ///)
               \          /                  \          /
                \      _/                     \_       /
                 /    /                         \     \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o                                                                   o
o  The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories.  o
o  They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o  from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order  o
o  other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories.     o
o                                                                   o
o  All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for  o
o  profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance.     o
o                                                                   o
o  Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors.                                 o
o                                                                   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Furness Hall (Ff, spanking)
From sixswots@aol.com (Sixswots)

*

If you are underage or do not like spanking stories then DO NOT 
READ THIS. If you want to post this one to anybody please tell me. 
If you wish to use it commercially then I want my share!


A few months past winter turned to spring then summer. Florence 
and Arabella both turned thirteen. Florence flourished on the 
first good food of her life and began to grow and fill out.
Arabella rarely saw Florence but she had not forgotten.
One pleasant summers day Arabella had gone out for a walk with 
Jane the vicar's daughter. The tow girls were lying down in the 
long grass talking. The girls were talking about beatings and were 
both gently rubbing themselves between the legs. The girls had 
been friends for years and had long had this common interest, when 
younger they had played at mother and daughters and had enjoyed 
slapping each others bare bottom.  However they both far keener on 
giving than receiving, if for no other reason than they both 
received regularly from their respective mothers. Jane had only 
yesterday received a particularly well applied dose of the hair 
brush from her mother for being rude to some tiresome old lady who 
had come to seeinment was to inspect each others bottom after a 
good thrashing.
"Lets see the damage then," said Arabella. Jane rolled onto her 
front and pulled up her dress and petticoats to reveal her firm 
young bottom a mass of red ovals some of which were fading and 
some of which were turning blue. Arabella felt a surge run through 
her, "Oh to be able to thrash someone's posterior to such a 
state," she gasped. "Well you can't thrash mine!" said Jane firmly 
"can't you find a servant to thrash?" "Oh I'd love to give that 
little trollop in the kitchen a good thrashing" said Arabella. 
"Well why don't you?" questioned Jane. "Because I have no business 
to see her and Mamma would find out," "If she was your own 
personal maid then perhaps it might be easier mused Jane." From 
this the girls hatched their plan.
Mr. Drinkwater was a fairly wealthy merchant who spent much of his 
time away from home. When he returned for a few weeks it was his 
custom to spoil Arabella ,who he adored. During his next trip home 
he had commented on what a beautiful young lady Arabella was, 
Arabella was quick to pounce "Shouldn't a young lady have her own 
maid ?," she asked. "I can't see why not her father" said 
expansively " I'm sure your mother can sort something out." This 
actually suited Mrs. Drinkwater quite well for although in her 
opinion the only thing her daughter needed was a good thrashing 
she was minded to take on another young girl who she knew was in 
dire circumstances and promoting Florence would create an opening 
for the new girl.
So Florence was duly promoted to Lady's maid and another skinny 
young girl took her place in the kitchen.  Florence's prospects 
seemed to be looking up, her salary had increased to two pounds 
ten shillings and she was on the path up in the servant world, 
possible one day to reach the dizzy heights of housekeeper.
For the first few weeks Florence spent much of her time with 
Lillian Mrs. Drinkwater's maid learning her trade. But gradually 
as she learnt she spent more and more time looking after Arabella. 
Arabella was normally short, abrupt and impersonal with her, 
although a couple of times Florence thought she saw her looking at 
her in a strange way.
Arabella was growing inpatient. She was itching for the 
opportunity to thrash Florence but dared not while she was in such 
close contact with her mother's maid. Then fortune smiled on her, 
her grandmother arrived for an extended visit, with her maid. This 
left the main servants accommodation overcrowded.  Arabella was 
quick to suggest to her mother that the was a spare servants 
bedroom in nursery wing of the house which Florence could sleep. 
Mrs. Drinkwater was grateful for the suggestion and even suggested 
to her mother later in the day that Arabella was finally growing 
up. 
The next day Florence moved into the servant's bedroom in the 
attic above the nursery. The nursery wing was remote from the 
other areas of the house, specifically designed so that the noise 
of the children did not disturb the rest of the house. As soon as 
Florence had moved over Arabella found fault with all she did. Her 
bed was not turned down properly, her dressing table was untidy 
the list of petty faults grew during the day.
That night Arabella lay in bed touching herself and dreaming of
the morning when she would make her first strike
Next morning Florence came in at six to light the fire. Once she 
had left the room Arabella, who had been pretending to be asleep, 
shot out of bed and poured water onto the fire which was just 
beginning to catch. An hour later Florence came into the room. 
Arabella got out of bed "Oh it's cold in her can't you even make a 
proper fire you stupid lazy little trollop. I've had enough of you 
I shall ask mamma for a new maid." Fear flooded through Florence's 
veins "Oh no please miss I can't understand what happened the fire 
was catching when I left." Arabella's eyes shone "very well, I 
will not tell mamma this time but I am going to thrash you to make 
you more careful in future.," Florence sat down on her dressing 
table stool "pass me my hairbrush," Florence handed her the big 
black mahogany hair brush. "Now over my lap," Florence lowered 
herself gingerly across her lap. Arabella pulled up her skirt & 
petticoat to reveal a beautiful white bottom, slightly firmer and 
plumper than the skinny little bottom which Mrs. Drinkwater had 
seen a few months ago. Arabella was so excited she could already 
feel a little trickle between her leg. Trying to keep her voice 
normal she said gloatingly " I'm not as soft as my mother when I 
thrash a maid I do it properly!." She raised the hairbrush above 
her head and brought the flat of it down as hard as she could 
across Florence's right buttock, the was a satisfying CRACK the 
buttock quivered and Florence's legs jumped a little, but the was 
no sound. Arabella usually screamed the house down from the first 
smack of a thrashing so she was rather disappointed with 
Florence's silence. She then raised it again and brought it 
cracking down on her left buttock. If anything the results were 
even less Florence was ready for this one and moved far less.
Arabella now started to spank with vengeance the hairbrush rose 
and fell about forty times, faster and faster as Arabella got more 
& more excited. Florence's bottom was now a mass of red ovals, but 
still she did not cry. Her eyes were moist with tears but she 
would not cry. Arabella paused to get her breath back. She looked 
at the glowing red cheeks and felt an electrifying surge run 
through her. She was now distinctly wet between her legs, "If only 
I can make her scream," she thought. Then her long discussions 
about spankings with Jane came back to her. "Spread your legs 
girl," Florence moved her legs apart "Wider," said Arabella 
slapping her thigh with the hairbrush. Florence spread her legs. 
Arabella then followed the pattern which Jane's mother did to Jane 
when she had been really bad. She spanked the inside of her thighs 
with the hairbrush. It took three or four attempts before she got 
the angle right but then Florence's left inner thigh came in for 
the full treatment.  After about four or five full blooded hits on 
her thigh Florence started to cry when Arabella switched to the 
other thigh, backhanded, Florence started to scream. The scream 
caused Arabella to shudder and shake as hot juices spread between 
her legs. She abandoned the tactical spanking and just lashed at 
Florence's bottom in a frenzy. After a couple of minutes of this 
Arabella was almost in a feint she was so excited. She pushed 
Florence off her lap onto the floor, "let that be a lesson to 
you," she gasped.
Florence picked herself up off the floor. Arabella looked at her 
"You may go now, tell the butler to tell Mamma that I have a 
headache and will not be down for breakfast," Florence limped off 
to do her bidding. Arabella when backed to bed and rubbed herself 
as she relived the spanking again and again in her mind.

Florence limped through the rest of the day with hot a blistered 
bottom. She had been shocked at the intensity of Arabella's 
thrashing, and the pain had been considerable. But strangely a 
small part of her seemed to like being close to someone so 
dominant and later when cleaning Arabella's bedroom, the smell, 
particularly the smell of the stain on the dressing table stool 
seemed to make her feel slightly funny. That night in her dreams 
the thrashing was repaid in her dreams except it was Mrs. 
Drinkwater doing the thrashing and it wasn't hurting nearly as 
much. She woke up slightly damp between her legs.
After a couple of days Florence's bottom did not hurt any more and 
when on the fourth day she inspected it in her tiny mirror the was 
little signs except for a couple of yellow marks on the bottom of 
her cheeks where the last of the bruises were fading. Fortunately 
for Florence Arabella was kept busy visiting people, round about, 
with her mother & grandmother and so the time needed for a repeat 
performance was not available.
The following Sunday afternoon Arabella was lying in the long 
grass with Jane. Arabella had given a blow by blow account of 
Florence's thrashing while both girls rubbed themselves between 
their legs furiously. "If I could do you a favour, would you let 
me thrash your maid ?," asked Jane, "What favour could you do me 
?," replied Arabella "Well I could suggest to Daddy that he could 
tutor us for two mornings a week, which would mean that your 
mother needn't hire you a governess, and we both know what a Dear 
my Daddy is." The idea appealed to Arabella, the last governess 
had reported her at least twice a week to mamma, who had thrashed 
her soundly with her cane every time. "I except your proposition," 
said Arabella "the only thing is if we are going to thrash her I 
want a cane next time. My hairbrush just was not effective 
enough," "we can't steal a cane," said Jane thoughtfully "but we 
could cut a switch from a birch tree." Arabella agreed and the two 
girls went of searching for a suitable birch tree. After quarter 
of an hour they found a nice straight branch just over three feet 
long which they managed to cut off. They then walked home whipping 
it through the air & sniggering.

At lunch on Tuesday Mrs. Drinkwater informed Arabella that she & 
her mother were going to visit a sick relative on Wednesday and 
that she should stay at home. A little stab of excitement shoot 
through Arabella's heart. "Might I have Jane
over Mama ?." "Yes, of course Dear, just don't interrupt the 
servants."

The following day her mother & grandmother departed and Jane 
arrived. That morning Arabella had done the same trick with the 
fire and had told Florence that she was on the brink of another 
thrashing. Jane & Arabella went up to the nursery and told 
Florence that they she should go to cook and collect their lunch. 
While Florence was away the girls carefully moved the rug near the 
table onto a polished area of floor. Florence soon returned with a 
large tray, she walked across the room trod on the mat, which 
promptly moved causing Florence to stumble. The water in the jug 
spilled over the food. "You clumsy oaf!" spat Arabella "That does 
it. Obviously the last thrashing didn't  do enough good. This time 
I'm going to improve upon it." she went over to the cupboard and 
pulled out the birch switch which was still sappy & whippy. She 
pulled out a chair "Bend over it girl and be quick about it." 
Florence looked down at the ground and walked over to the chair 
and bent over. Arabella pulled her dress and petticoats up to 
reveal her bare bottom. Jane was getting so excited by this that 
she was hugging herself and moving from foot to foot.
Arabella took three or four steps back then ran forward switch 
raised. She brought it whipping across Florence's bottom with a 
whistling crack. Florence's whole body moved forward under the 
impact. A livid red line appeared across her bottom. Arabella 
waited a moment, she had had enough thrashings to know that the 
pain took a few seconds to arrive. Florence gave a sharp intake of 
breath as after a few seconds she felt the pain like a line of 
fire across her bottom. Satisfied that the first stroke had had 
its full effect Arabella retreated and delivered the second , then 
the third , then the fourth. The was now a line of welts running 
across the centre of Florence's bottom. For the next two Arabella 
deliberately aimed low sending the switch cracking into her lower 
buttocks. "Keep your posterior straight girl, its meant to hurt" 
gasped Arabella mimicking her mothers words. Florence shifted her 
weight on the chair and clenched her buttocks. Arabella delivered 
three more at which point Florence began to cry. "Don't think your 
sniveling will effect me my girl," another of Mrs. Drinkwater's 
favorites. Arabella then through all of her might into the last 
three strokes she was too excited to care where they landed, she 
was intoxicated with a feeling of power and elation. Each stroke 
cracked onto Florence's bottom each causing her to cry out in 
pain.
After the final stroke Arabella stood gasping from the effort and 
from the huge amount of sexual tension pulsating through her body. 
She surveyed her handiwork. Florence's bottom was covered in thin 
red wheels with on or two small drops of blood forming. "Now you 
ungrateful wretch, as you have ruined Miss Walsh's dinner I only 
think its fare that she should take some share of punishing you. 
What shall we say six more Miss Walsh?." Jane had been so excited 
by the events that she could feel the wetness between her legs. 
"Oh yes," she stammered laid on with the best will. Florence 
looked at the ground as Arabella handed the switch to Jane. Jane 
was in no hurry she wanted to enjoy this she stood flexing the 
switch and looking at Florence's stripped bottom. Finally after 
five minutes she slowly took a few paces back. Florence had not 
noticed but Jane was holding the switch left handed while Arabella 
had been holding it in her right. She raced forward and brought 
the switch whistling through the air and cracking onto her bottom 
like a pistol shot. The weal crossed five of six of the ones left 
by Arabella. After a couple of seconds the pain hit Florence, it 
was of a whole new magnitude she screamed fully for the first 
time. Five more times the switch whistled through the air and five 
more times the stroke sounded like a pistol shot followed by a 
scream.
After the final stroke both Arabella & Jane were so excited that 
they could feel drops running down their legs and the blood was 
pumping through their ears like percussion drums.  Florence 
meanwhile was laying slumped across the chair as wave upon wave of 
pain flowed across her tortured bottom.

The girls soon dismissed Florence  from their presence with the 
grim warning that this had only been the first of many thrashings 
unless she bucked her ideas up. Florence painfully limped out. The 
girls spent the rest of the day in Arabella's room gleefully 
reliving the earlier events.
That night, after Jane had gone home, old Mrs.
Drinkwater, Arabella's grandmother, got up to relieve herself.  On 
the way back to bed she forgot to put out the candle which she had 
placed on a table perilously close to some curtains. The lady went 
back to sleep. Half an hour later a gust of wind blew the flame of 
the candle onto the curtains which caught light.
The window in Florence's room faced across the courtyard to the 
old Ladies room. Florence was lying on her face on her bed. She 
had briefly been asleep, but had rolled over in her sleep ped her 
to reawaken. She was staring out of the window, when suddenly she 
saw the window in the wing opposite light up as the curtains 
caught fire. She dashed down three flights of steps across the 
courtyard and into the other wing. The alarm was soon raised and 
shortly the whole household was out in the courtyard while some of 
the male servants put out the fire.
Mrs. Drinkwater was watching the progress of the fire fighting 
when the was a large gust of wind. The wind caught all unaware 
especially Florence who's lightweight cotton night dress was blown 
up round her head. Mrs. Drinkwater had a good view of Florence 
from the rear and even in the poor light was able to make out the 
welts on her bottom. Mrs. Drinkwater had more pressing things on 
her mind then, but in the morning she determined to find out who 
had been thrashing her servants.
The next morning after breakfast, which Arabella had said was too 
cold as Florence had been too slow bringing it, the butler arrived 
and asked Florence to come with him, the mistress wanted to see 
her. Arabella knew that Florence had alerted them to the fire and 
therefore presumed her mother wished to reward her, she did not 
think that any details of yesterday's thrashing were likely to 
come to light. Florence followed the butler, trying hard no to 
limp. They arrived in the drawing room, "thank you Jackson, you 
may leave us " Mrs. Drinkwater said. She smiled at Florence " I 
understand that it is you we have to thank for saving us from all 
being burnt in our beds," she unlocked the little cash box on her 
desk and took out two golden guineas which she gave to Florence. 
Florence gasped, "this is in addition to your wages" smiled Mrs. 
Drinkwater. The smile then suddenly disappeared "One other matter 
Florence, pull up your skirt and petticoat," Florence did as she 
was asked, "turn round." Mrs. Drinkwater then saw Florence's 
bottom in the full light of day, it was chris-crossed with red 
lines which were just starting to bruise & turn blue. "Florence, 
you have not been away from this house in the last week, so 
someone thrashed you under this roof - who?," the was no reply 
"Florence turn round, look at me! Who!" Mmmmiss Arabella & Miss 
Walsh, Oh please maam I'm sorry they had to thrash me I will try 
harder...I will." Mrs. Drinkwater then interview Florence at 
length not being satisfied until she had every detail. Finally 
Florence was dismissed.
Mrs. Drinkwater was angry, very angry. She decided
that although her first reaction was to give Arabella a similar,
if not better, thrashing that the one she had given Florence,
she would consider the matter for a few hours. So the first
thing she did was right a note to the vicars wife telling of
Jane's part in the mistreatment of her servant
The Reverend Septimus Gordon was writing a sermon in his study. 
Septimus was a very spiritual man who was on a different mental 
plane to most of his congregation and his family. When he was 
absorbed in writing a sermon few things disturbed him. Certainly 
not the gardener's boy from the hall knocking at the front door 
with a message for his wife, hardly even the noise of the spanking 
which took place in Jane's bedroom shortly after. Had he been 
listening he would have hurt the usual noises, firstly Jane 
begging mamma not to spank her, secondly a series of sharp cracks 
as the  Mrs. Gordon's hairbrush made solid contact with Jane's 
firm bare bottom cheeks, then thirdly the slightly softer thwacks, 
always accompanied by screams, as Mrs. Gordon's hairbrush made 
contact with the inside of Jane's thighs. Finally the noise 
stopped and Mrs. Gordon shut the door accompanied by loud sobbing 
from Jane. However the noises which occurred a couple of hours 
later when Mrs. Gordon re-entered Jane's bedroom disturbed even 
Septimus.
Jane had stopped crying a couple of minutes after the spanking had 
finished. Generally she thought she had done well and had got away 
lightly. She had screamed loudly and had managed to wiggle enough 
on her mothers knee so that her petticoats had kept falling back 
over her bottom, providing some protection and breaking her 
mothers spanking rhythm. Generally all in all considering the 
thrill she had got from thrashing Florence she felt that she was 
still ahead. She slowly got up and changed into her nighty for her 
mother had told her she was confined to bed until the next day.
Jane was surprised when suddenly her mother came into her room 
again two hours later. Mrs. Walsh looked at her daughter, picked 
up the hairbrush from the dressing table and said "Earlier I 
spanked you for misbehaving at another persons house, now I am 
going to spank you again for mistreating a servant. Bend over the 
bed ." Jane pleaded "oh no mamma please I couldn't abide another 
spanking my bottom is so red and sore," "by all accounts you gave 
no quarter to Mrs. Drinkwater's servant girl, stop whining girl & 
bend over the bed." Jane was confused as she slowly got up & bent 
over her bed. Her mother had always spanked her across her knee. 
Having to bend over was a new and threatening alteration.
Mrs. Walsh was a strong fit woman, she rode with the hounds 
frequently and was not past walking round her husbands parish with 
heavy baskets full of food for the needy. It was therefore with a 
strong wrist that she pulled Jane's nighty up round her shoulder 
and pulled it tight, like a vice. She then raised the hairbrush in 
her other hand high above her head and brought it crashing down on 
Jane's, already slightly pink left cheek, a turn of the wrist just 
before impact nearly doubling the impact. This first new blow had 
all the weight of Mrs. Walsh's body behind it in addition to the 
wrist action, which all in all made the first smack far harder 
than any smack which had landed on Jane's bare bottom in any 
previous spanking.  The was a cracking thud as her buttock 
compressed down nearly an inch under the force of the blow. Jane 
cried out in real earnest this time.
The smacks came crashing down on alternate buttocks, Jane's howls 
increased with each blow. Mrs. Walsh then changed tactics and 
started to spank in line with Jane's cheeks, the back of the 
hairbrush pushing the cheeks slightly apart and catching the 
softer inner skin. This caused Jane to go almost hysterical. 
Finally Mrs. Walsh stopped. Jane stopped screaming and just 
whimpered. Then came the terrible ominous words "Spread your legs 
girl," "Noooo Mama." Jane very slowly and tentatively opened her 
legs. The  hairbrush then whistled the air and landed full force 
on Jane's left inner thigh, then again and again and again. To 
Jane the pain was unbelievable she had never imagined that a 
spanking could hurt so, then Mrs. Walsh started on her right 
thigh. Jane cries reached their peek and gradually subsided the 
hairbrush continued to fall on her thigh. Jane lay over the bed 
exhausted by the crying and the tears, yet still the spanking 
continued. Mrs. Walsh returned to her buttocks, she was out of 
breath now and her pace was slowing but she was still bringing the 
hairbrush thumping down every two seconds or so.  "How does it 
feel to be beaten until you're beyond screaming.  Think on this 
before you beat someone who has done no wrong.," she gasped as she 
continued to rain down smacks on her errant daughters now bright 
red bottom.
Jane couldn't even say exactly when the spanking finished one 
minute she was bending over scarcely sure of what month it was 
then she was still bent over her bed in a strange quite room with 
a bottom, so sore she could not imagine that it was true.
The Reverend Septimus Walsh, stopped writing and paused during the 
height of the spanking when the whacks from next door almost seem 
to make his quill holder jump and Jane's screams were rattling the 
ornamental plates on the wall. "Oh well," he thought "I suppose 
all mothers spank their daughters."


