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Usual disclaimers apply.  An adult M/F/F account.
Under agers should 'save' themselves for later.
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              STORY--- WELLINGTON HOUSE
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	SEATED in *his* chair in the comfortable 
drawing room, Lord Wellington, read the punishment 
announcement card. 
	WRITTEN in Elegant script was 
the single name, ' "Rachel", 9:00 pm, Six.'
HE pondered a moment, then raised his eyes to ANSON,
the head butler, and queried,  "Who is this person?" 
"Oh, Richard! Really!" LADY WELLINGTON interrupted
as Anson was about to speak.  Her gown rustled as
she turned from the small desk and faced her husband.
"Your powers in Parliament are well know.  
However, your powers of observation, especially in this house,
are so abysmal as to be almost nonexistent.  Rachel is
the new under house parlor maid, arrived just two months
ago from the convent of St. Allaiter," 
Lady Wellington smugged, turned, picked up the quill pen, 
and resumed answering her correspondence.
LORD RICHARD WELLINGTON huffed silently to himself at the
condescending reproach from his wife and cast a crooked 
eye at Anson, who dutifully stared starched shirt straight ahead, 
not meeting the glance.
ANSON had been in domestic service at Wellington house for 
almost 20 years and could well anticipate when certain "things"
were in development.  He knew the master as kindly caring man,
often oblivious and lost in his own thoughts.  When he huffed,
in the manner just witnessed, however, it always seemed advisable 
in Anson's mind, to be somewhere else.
	"Shall I bring the young lady in, Sir?" Anson dared, and
	broke the silence.
"Yes, yes, yes," came the impatient reply from his master.
The brandy glass in Lord Richard Wellington's hand stopped in
mid sniff and sip as the young parlor maid entered the room.  He
was astounded at her beauty and  did indeed question his own
mental faculties that he could have been so blind to have
missed seeing her before.  He cleared his throat.
	"Six is it?" Wellington asked Anson.
	"Yes, Sir", the butler answered respectfully.
Wellington cared little about just why this exquisite young child would
be getting six of the best across her bare posteriors.  If Anson said it
was six, then six it was.  He was much too busy a man to be bothered
by such trivialities.
	"Very well, prepare her then," Wellington replied, suddenly
	not so interested in the governmental debate papers he had
	just been preparing.
Despite being adorned in the institutional gray uniform, with its 
gleaming white cuffs, collar, and cap, the sweet swell of the 
young woman's body could not be ignored.
	Anson grasped the girl's elbow and lead her to the center
	of the drawing room, midway between Lord and Lady
	Wellington.  The butler had her kneel on the upholstered
	foot stool, lean well forward, then grasp its legs with
	her hands.  In one practiced movement, Anson lifted the
	stiff material of the long dress skirt and tucked it into the 
	white apron ribbon.
	Lord Wellington squirmed a little as Anson hooked his
	thumbs into the waistband of the white undergarment,
	and lowered Rachel's thick muslin panties to her knees.
Although her legs were tightly together, the pink fig of her slit,
teased by whispy red hairs, was clearly visible.  Richard looked
up and down the bent over form.  The young girls hands were
white with tension as she gripped the front legs of the footstool.
She had been caned by the Good Sisters but never before 
had been so exposed to a man .... two men in fact, and in
such a humiliating position.
LORD WELLINGTON picked up the polished wooden cane and advanced
to one side of the new parlor maid.
	"Oh! For god's sake Richard! Lady Wellington turned
	again.   "Have you forgotten the milking?!  
	These young convent snips need it more than
 	anyone!" she shouted in exasperation and pushed herself
	away from the small writing desk in near tantrum.
ANSON stood straight and watched Her Ladyship walk quickly with 
determined steps, stopping behind the bent over girl and 
forcing three fingers of her manicured hand between the 
girls legs.  The parlor maid gasped at the sudden invasion 
of her most private parts and began to rock back and forth 
in cadence to the massaging action directed against the
pliable soft folds of her sex.
The experienced butler knew beyond doubt 
   that his Lord had not forgotten the preliminary 
    milking ritual, but only used his feigned
     ignorance to bait his dear wife.  He saw the 
      whole thing clearly, right from the master's initial 
	huff of indignation.
	The parlor maid was in a sweat now, as Her Ladyship's
	fingers masterbated away the lasciviousness of the aroused
	girl.  A knowing and sharp finger nail flicked away
	at the gristled little button until the turgid flesh burst,
	sending torrents of spent liquid dripping between
	her thighs.
	But Her Ladyship, akin to prolonging the suffering of
	her servants, continued to tease the unfortunate girl by
	pinching her slim thighs apart, poking and prodding
	at her exposed anal ring, and depositing some 
	resounding slaps on the slim and puffy sex lips.
" I believe the imp is ready for you now,"  The Lady Marjorie
Wellington sneered to her husband, shuffling away back to her desk.
The parlor maid could only wish that the cane would be a
relief next to such an embarrassing and lewd display just 
inflicted upon her, and would be over quickly.
Lord Wellington raised the cane and swung the thin rod full
 and hard across the fullest part of the buttocks.  
  The incredible sting made the parlor maid lurch
   forward with alarm.   With precise accuracy, the second
    cut was much lower, where the thigh and buttocks meet
     in all their glorious form. The bow of the cane, bent outward
      as the result of pure physics, just nipped at the swollen slit,
       causing quite an audible shriek, more from shock than pain. 
ANSON was pleased at the master's precision, and the final four
strokes only confirmed that he would have no more outbursts
of incorrigibility from this new maid.  
	Before dismissing the girl, Wellington fingered each
	of the six welts, allowing his hand to knead and twist
	the inflamed cheeks and all that lay in between.
"Will that be all, Sir?"   Anson asked as the young parlor maid was
allowed to stand, quickly covering herself.
"For the moment, yes, Anson, but stay near, for I may need you
shortly," Wellington responded.
	"Yes, Sir,"  Anson replied understandingly, 
	and he and the parlor maid left the room.
	A few steps out side the drawing room door, Anson had
	the girl bend over, right there in the hall, for 'inspection'.
	His hands wandered over the streaked bottom.  The poor girl
	was freightened that someone would approach and see her in
	such a wantonly exposed position.
	"The Master has been much too lenient with you," he said, 
	and I believe your tutelage should include a few weeks
	working for Mr. Kanakian."
	"OH! NO SIR! PLEASE!" the girl shrieked in panic, 
	twisted herself about, and grasped both arms around 
	Anson's ankles.
	"He does unspeakable things to servants!  I BEG OF YOU!"
	For it was true.  Mr. Kanakian, the groundskeeper in charge
	of nearly 600 acres of prime, profitable estate orchard, 
	took a particular and fiendish delight in inflicting cruel 
	punishments on the indentured servants that worked the land,
	often just for his own amusement.
	Anson was pleased at the terror in the girl's eyes.  It made
	things so much easier.  His hand reached down and stroked
	her short red hair.  "You will behave, then?"
	"OH, yes, Sir!" the implored reply was answered immediately.
	"Very well," Anson replied.  "Remove all of your clothing,
	right here and now, and go await me in my chambers."
The parlor maid needed no second invitation.  Even though it meant
 walking stark naked past every servant in the house, she quickly shed
  all of her clothing.  Before sending the girl on her way, Anson
   squeezed each of the girl's pink nipples till she swooned,  then 
    gave her a casual slap on her bottom.  He watched her nude form
scamper
      down the hall way, then returned to listen at the drawing room door.
                            ***************************
	SIMPLY by removing the oval framed cameo from the
outside wall, ANSON could not only hear what was going on
in the private drawing room, but see as well. A secret that had
benefited him handsomely over the years.
	ANSON watched LORD WELLINGTON pace back
	and forth ... a sure sign of a conniving mind at work.
	"You are quite right, my dear wife," Richard Wellington
	addressed his spouse, now that he thought they were
 	alone.  
	"I have been clearly negligent in my duties towards this
 	house.  If you would be so kind as to lay yourself over
 	the foot stool, I will begin to rectify my short comings by
 	giving you a sound thrashing for your impertinence." 
THE LADY WELLINGTON set down her pen, and looked
at her husband incredulously, but with a gleam in her eye.
Her cunt already leaked with expectation.
	"I would have you naked," LORD WELLINGTON
	commanded, "or should I ring for Anson and the
	footmen for assistance?"
ANSON watched from his secret perch as HER LADYSHIP shed her gown.  
His heart beat wildly as he observed the mature 
woman in her form fitting corset and stays, bending and twisting
every which way.  He knew of course, that HER LADYSHIP
was very well aware of the stern constitution of her husband
and that threats of this kind were not made idly.
The thought of being stripped bare by her own butler and
footmen was beyond comprehension.
ANSON sucked in his own breath as the now nude matron
draped herself over the foot stool.  The large fleshy bottom
was magnificent.  He could swear that the fat cunt, about to
be milked by HIS LORDSHIP, winked at him.  He watched
for a few moments more, his eyes fixed on the huge tits that
hung pendulously, swollen nipples nearly touching the carpet.
ANSON locked the image in his mind as he replaced the
cameo over the hole in the wall.  Rachel would be waiting
and he was anxious.
As he strolled down the mahogany lined walls of the hallway,
he wondered if anyone knew who was the *real* master of
WELLINGTON HOUSE. 
He smiled inwardly.  There would be no 'ringing' from HIS LORD
or LADYSHIP for several hours, he was sure.
.......and visiosn of red sugar plums danced in his head.
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END.
