2 hours ago
"Take off your clothes."
Dana blinked. "What - all of them?"
"Oh. But..." She cast him a pleading look which was answered by an impassive stare from midnight-blue eyes and a slight quirky raise to his eyebrow as he waited for her to obey. She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes - it was worth a go - it sometimes worked. Alas, not today.
"Now, Dana." He strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her as she resigned herself to the inevitable and slowly began unbuttoning her shirt.
"I said I'm sorry," she ventured, as her bra and jeans joined the discarded shirt on the floor.
"Not good enough. I warned you not to ride Black Jack, yet you disobeyed me - again."
Dana gulped. It was true. Black Jack fascinated her - he was a beautiful, vibrant horse, all muscle and solid bone, with a sleek black coat, a fiery glint in his eyes, and a temperament to match; he responded only to Ethan, a fact proved all too clearly as he whinnied his outrage and reared only moments after Dana struggled to mount him, sending her tumbling from the saddle to land ignominiously in the dirt. Stunned and winded, she had lain there as Black Jack towered above her, thrashing the ground with his powerful hooves. If Ethan hadn't come rushing over to scoop her up out of harm's way... She pushed the thought aside, tacitly acknowledging that she deserved this spanking.
"Sorry," she repeated, biting her lip apprehensively.
Ethan looked pointedly at the pile of clothes on the floor. Following his gaze, Dana quickly picked them up, folded them, and set them on a chair, where she lingered wearing only the briefest pair of panties. With a sigh, she slid them down her creamy thighs and placed them on the chair. She stood before him, keenly aware of her nudity, and the fact that her rose-tipped nipples had hardened in greeting. She hated it when she had to strip for a spanking - it was much more fun when he undressed her. But fun wasn't exactly on the agenda right now. She had been disobedient and foolish, and now it was time to pay the price... on her naughty bottom.
"Come here, Dana." Ethan's left hand shot out and patted the bed. Such a large hand. Hard, like the cast iron skillet she used for cooking pancakes.
Her feet carried her reluctantly forward as her eyes remained fixed on his hand. Then that same hand raised to cup her chin and tilt her head up. His eyes met hers.
"Why am I going to spank you, Dana?"
"I messed up," she admitted. When no immediate response was forthcoming, she elaborated. "I was disobedient, and I put myself in danger. And I'm sorry ... real sorry."
"I know," he said, in a tone that was soft yet firm. "You know the score. Over you go."
A moment later she was in the all-too familiar position over his powerful thighs, staring at the rug. She felt his hand rest for a brief moment on her bared bottom and held her breath, waiting. There came a feather-light caress across her trembling globes, followed by a loud Crack! as the ringing slap echoed around the bedroom. Stoically, she refrained from yelping, instead she screwed her eyes tight shut and prepared to endure as once again Ethan's palm swept down with a resounding smack.
Ethan eyed Dana's rounded bottom wolfishly. He never tired of looking at her curves. Her buttocks quivered and jiggled with every spank before bouncing back for more, the twin hemispheres forming an irresistible target for his punishing hand. Already the creamy flesh had taken on a pink hue. Spanking more forcefully now, he settled into a steady rhythm, administering a sequence of fast-paced spanks.
Dana began to squirm and wriggle, emitting a series of muted yips and yelps, and then as the spanks descended harder and faster she abandoned her stoic intent and hollered loudly. The sting in her sensitive rear end was building as Ethan brought his hand down hard, spanking first one cheek, then the other, then a series of upward spanks catching the underside of both jiggling cheeks.
"Ow! OWWW!" she squealed, her legs kicking in protest. "It hurts! It hurts!"
"It's supposed to." Another slap descended on her sit spot, and then he deliberately spanked that same spot over and over, eliciting a long wail from Dana. "This is for your disobedience." Down came his hand again, sending her cheeks jiggling. "I was worried about you, woman." A sequence of hand prints now adorned her cheeks. "You could have been badly injured." Pink turned to red as he spanked on, driving the lesson home. "Dammit, Dana - you could have been killed!"
Dana squealed loudly, unshed tears pricking her eyelids and threatening to spill over.
"I-I know... Owww!" she spluttered. Though she tried to wriggle frantically, Ethan had her in a secure hold, locking her legs together with his own, rendering her immobile. All she could do was pound her fists into the rug and wail out her torment as her bottom deepened to a rich shade of red. Truly, it felt as though it was on fire and she felt as though she would never be able to sit for a week. "No more! No more!" she pleaded.
"I'll be the judge of that," said Ethan. He delivered more swats, covering the whole expanse of her peachy curves, but they were less forceful now, winding down after the fast hard volley. At length, he paused to stroke her burning mounds, his hand gentle now. "A spanked bottom never killed anyone, Dana. But you could have been killed under the hooves of that stallion."
There was such wistful tenderness in his voice that Dana's tears spilled down her cheeks and she emitted a choking sob. Gently, Ethan raised her up and kissed away her tears.
"I'm sorry I had to do that, honey. But you need to learn that I mean what I say, and that I always, always have your best interests at heart."
"I know that," sniffled Dana. "And I'm very sorry. Do you forgive me?"
"Of course I forgive you." He reached to smooth the hair away from her eyes. "You're my whole life. I love you. But that doesn't excuse you from standing in the corner," he added, masking a grin.
"Oh darn it, not the corner." She pouted and half-smiled simultaneously. He knew she hated the humiliation of standing in the corner.
"Only for ten minutes. Off you go, wife. I'll just sit here and admire the view."
So Dana moved to the dreaded corner and stood facing the wall, her red bottom throbbing.
Pausing briefly, she turned and whispered, "I deserved that. I love you, Ethan."
He smiled endearingly. "I know."
And as the minutes ticked slowly by, he thought back to a time just over a year ago when his life had been so different. He'd been happy enough, but there'd been something - or someone - missing. That someone was Dana. He smiled, remembering...
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Dinner was served each evening promptly at eight. It was a formal affair that Josh was getting somewhat used to. But each day brought new revelations with which he was trying to cope. It was after dinner a night or two later that the next surprise was revealed.I think Josh is going to make a fine Earl, don't you?
“I hate to inform you, madam,” said Griggs the butler, addressing Mrs. Heatherton, “but two maids are on report.” Both Gwyneth and Lady Heatherton looked nonplussed at this news.
“Oh, dear,” said Lydia Heatherton. “What shall we do?”
“Daddy always handled maids on report,” whispered Gwyneth.
“What do you mean, ‘on report’?” This sounded ominous.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said. “What happened, Griggs?”
“Jane and Millie were roughhousing in the gallery instead of doing their duties. A disagreement of some sort. They broke your late mother’s blue flowered vase, I’m sorry to say. A complete dereliction of duty and conduct most unbecoming,” said the butler solemnly. Then he produced the broken pieces of the blue vase.
“What shall we do?” said Mrs. Heatherton again. “Cranston always handled these things. No one has been on report since he died.”
“What the hell is ‘on report?’” whispered Josh.
Gwyneth put her napkin down. “I suppose I shall have to tend to it, Granny. We cannot expect our American cousin to just jump in—even though as the earl and lord of Heatherton Hall, it is his job.”
“Will someone tell me what is going on?” Josh felt like he was the only one in the room not in on the secret.
“Tell Mrs. Finch to prepare a rod... no, make that two. And tell the girls to report to the library in half an hour.”
“At once, Lady Gwyneth,” said Griggs, who then turned and left. “Come with me,” she said to Josh.
When they were all in the library she shut the door. “Our staff,” she said, “are like family. Generations have been in service here at Heatherton Hall. No one ever gets fired. But as in all families there are behavior lapses and discipline problems. This is apparently the end result of a long standing feud between Jane and Millie. They have been warned about this before. Now it has resulted in damage. Griggs was right to put them on report.”
“So what happens now?”
“What happens now is that they will both receive a flogging.”
Josh let this sink in. “A flogging? Are you kidding?” This was 2013, not 1913.
“I know our ways may seem odd to you, but it is part of the compact that has served all of us for generations. Perhaps you have heard that the birch is in use for certain offenses here on the island, so it is part of our culture. Only…”
“Daddy did this. Always. Ever since I can remember. As the lord of Heatherton Hall, it was his duty. He was the ultimate authority.”
“And therefore the new earl should do it, newcomer or not,” said Lydia Heatherton.
“Granny!” said Gwyneth. “You can’t expect him to…”
“Why not?” shot back Lady Heatherton. “He’s the earl now. It’s his job, like it or not.”
Josh’s head was swimming. This was happening all too fast. “Now wait a minute. I can’t come in here and just start…what? Flogging maids?”
Then Gwyneth, seeing his obvious discomfort, smiled a wicked smile. “Oh, yes, you can. And you must. Tradition must be preserved,” she intoned.
“But how do you do this?” Josh was still in a state of disbelief.
“Easy,” said Gwyneth. “I was tennis champion in my class and a prefect at my boarding school in Scotland. I think I know what to do,” she said with confidence. “I’ll show you.”
Then Mrs. Finch, who seemed to be some sort of head downstairs maid, arrived. She carried a pair of sheaves bound at one end with twine. Gwyneth picked up a rod and swished it about. It was made up of a bundle of thin switches about three feet long and very swishy. “The lady bends over the back of a chair. You take the rod and line it up on her derriere, like so.” Gwyneth took one of the rods and stood so that the end was centered on the chair back. “Then you pull back and using arm and elbow whip it down right on the crowns of her bottom. Don’t forget a little flick of the wrist at the end,” she said with a smile. “You’ve played tennis before, haven’t you?”
Josh nodded dumbly.
“Good,” she said. “Just like that. Give it your best forehand.” She handed the rod to Josh who took it and stared at it like an alien thing.
Griggs entered with the girls, both of whom were pale and nervous. They wore black uniforms with white trim, dresses that came to mid-calf. Jane was a tall slender brunette, Millie a petite but voluptuous redhead.
“You know why you are here,” said Griggs to the girls. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Fighting in the gallery when you should have been about your work. Shameful.”
“What was this about, Jane?” asked Gwyneth.
“It’s about my boyfriend,” Jane began.
“Your boyfriend?” snorted Millie, interrupting. “He’s with me now. I’ll sort you out.”
Gwyneth held her hands up. “All right, all right. I get the gist of it. But you are going to have to sort out your disagreements without resorting to fisticuffs.” She looked pointedly at each. “I’m sorry but Griggs was right to put you on report. And you know what that means.”
“Oh no, Lady Gwyneth, please. We’ll not fight in future,” pleaded Jane.
“Yes, please,” said Millie, suddenly sober and eyeing the rods nervously.
Gwyneth shook her head. “No. This is not the first time. I’m afraid it’s six for each of you.” She inclined her head toward Josh. “Ladies, this is the new master of Heatherton Hall. You will accept your punishment from him.”
Both maids gasped when they beheld the young robust American flexing the birch rod in his hands. This prompted more pleas for forgiveness but Griggs and Gwyneth stood firm.
Finally when all supplications had been exhausted, Gwyneth said, “Over the backs of the chairs, both of you. Skirts well up.”
They were to be whipped on their bare bottoms. Truly amazing. Josh could hardly believe what he was watching. And I have to do this.
Jane and Millie approached the pair of chairs and raised their skirts. Josh felt a tightening in his groin. Both girls were attractive. Underneath the skirts both wore black silk panties framed by a garter belt and stockings. Two very attractive bottoms came into view, Jane’s compact but perfectly heart shaped derriere, and Millie’s bottom, a pair of plump rounded orbs that jutted out prominently. When both had bent over, placing hands on the chair seats, Gwyneth said, “Mrs. Finch, if you please.”
Josh just about fell through the floor as Mrs. Finch strode over and peeled down two sets of panties to lay bare both quivering bottoms. Griggs leaned in and whispered, “The rod is always applied bare breech, sir. It is tradition.” Josh nodded as if he understood.
In the meantime Josh fingered the rod in his hand. It was nearly three feet long, and the switches splayed out, fan style, at the business end. He stepped to Millie’s side and tapped her seat, lining it up.
“Six strokes, Millie and Jane. Mr. Fairchild shall alternate between you, one stroke at a time, until we are done. You will hold your position. Are you ready?”
A muffled "yes, Lady Gwyneth" issued from both miscreants.
Josh drew back. The rod paused at the top arc of his swing. It whined as the switches whipped through the air. The rod landed square on the crowns of Millie’s buttocks with a sharp thwick!
Millie hissed in pain. Faint red lines sprang up across her flesh.
Josh moved to stand beside Jane. Another whish…thwick! sang out as the rod swept across Jane’s bottom.
“Ow, sir!” she yelped.
Josh gritted his teeth. He felt that he was being played by a mischievous Gwyneth. He had seen that wicked gleam in her eye when Lady Heatherton had suggested that he wield the rod. But now there was no help for it. He’d play along for now, but there would be a reckoning.
Josh proceeded to apply the rod, moving from one girl to the other, carefully lining up before delivering the stroke with a smooth arm motion and a little flick of the wrist at the end. It certainly made an impression. The whick! of the rod was the dominant sound in the room. Both girls hissed and stamped their feet, trying to shift position to alleviate the sting. Bottoms clenched then jiggled lightly as the rod struck. The faint lines multiplied, merging into a reddish hue. Toward the end Jane and Millie became more vocal expressing their discomfort with a series of “ouches” and pleas for leniency as feet shuffled and bottoms quivered.
“There,” said Gwyneth after Josh had delivered the last stroke to Jane’s bottom. “You may rise.”
Both girls pulled their knickers up and rose, turning around to face Gwyneth. Their faces were red and their eyes were distinctly watery. Millie put a hand up to wipe away a tear. Jane sniffled.
“Now, we’ll have no more fighting, especially on duty. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said both maids.
“You will both apologize to Mr. Fairchild,” said Gwyneth.
“We’re sorry, sir,” said both maids practically in unison.
Josh nodded and gave the girls a sympathetic smile.
“Mr. Fairchild is now the lord of Heatherton Hall and his arm is quite strong as you have just experienced, so behave yourselves. You are dismissed.”
Before heading off to bed, apply a mixture of toothpaste and skin lotion to the bruise and wrap with an ace bandage or a band-aid to keep the sheets clean. Wash the paste off in the morning and reapply for two or three nights. Bruises that normally take a week or two to fade disappear much faster.
As an electrician you can sometimes get yourself in some sticky situations. I've had a few close calls, usually involving 240 volts finding an easier way to earth than the one planned. But my stickiest moment came a few years ago when I had a simple wiring job to do.
It seemed easy enough. St Ethelred's School for Girls needed a new tannoy system installing. Myself, and Bob and Tony, had worked fairly hard all week, getting the cabling in place, siting speakers all around the school, connecting everything up.
I say that we worked "fairly" hard, because the job was slowed down a bit by Bob and Tony's lack of concentration at times. It was those little minxes in the school of course. They used to wait till one or other of us was scrabbling round the floor, trying to thread some cable under the floorboards, and well, they'd walk past...slowly.
The thing was, you see, that their skirts were rather on the shortish side. And if you were lying on the floor you could see up them. Right up them.... And the girls knew this. And did it on purpose. There were even a few who would walk past you, and having caught your eye, they'd pretend they'd dropped something on the floor, and bend over right in front of you. Their skirts would go right up, and there would be a pair of white panties. As clear as day.
Well, this slowed Bob and Tony down no end. It was terrible.... Tony reckons there was even one of the teachers who dropped some books near him at an opportune moment, but he does tend to exaggerate. Personally, I'm sure a teacher in a school like that would always wear underwear! She was probably wearing a thong. Miss Dawson, the History teacher, was wearing pale blue panties one day I noticed accidentally. But they were ordinary briefs under her tights. Not that I was looking, you understand.
Anyway, I digress. The final day arrived, and we were ready to connect up the system to go live. I was in the Headmistress's office (a real dragon called Miss Tewkesbury) putting the final wires together at the master console on her desk, and Bob and Tony were ensuring everything was OK at the speakers' ends.
We'd had a bit of trouble actually getting any sounds out of the speakers which we thought might be a bit of a problem, especially when you're supposed to be installing a tannoy system. I was checking the wiring to the console. The thing was this meant I had to scrabble around under the Headmistress's desk, and I was just about sure that it was ready to test again when Miss Tewkesbury came into her office.
Now, the thing was that she couldn't see me from where I was, although I could see her through a gap in the modesty panel, I think they're called, on her desk. I was just about to reappear, or cough, or somehow make my presence known in a way that wouldn't startle her when, for some reason, I stopped. One of the girls came in behind her, and shut the door. Miss Tewkesbury did not seem to be in a good mood.
"I am sick to death of this sort of behaviour, Harrison," she snapped.
The girl shuffled her feet, and looked rather downcast. I could see she was one of the Sixth Form, because they all had blue ties, whereas the rest of the school had a rather revolting shade of maroon.
She was a pretty thing, blonde hair, ponytail, crisp white blouse, and the short blue skirt that was de rigueur - and the cause of Tony and Bob's distraction.
"Yes, Miss," the girl said, rather pointlessly.
"I am not going to tolerate this any longer. I am going to teach you a lesson you won't forget. Bring that chair to the middle of the room!" She pointed to a chair on the far side of the room, and the girl walked miserably across the room, picked up the chair, and brought it to the centre of the room, about four feet away from where I was still concealed beneath the desk. I wondered whether I should now make my presence known, but in view of the Headmistress's foul mood I felt that discretion was the better part of valour and decided to stay put. Not that I wanted to see what was going to happen, of course, but just to avoid any mutual embarrassment.
The Headmistress walked over to the cupboard on the far side of the study, and opening it, took out something I recall greatly from my days at school so many years ago. The cane!
I though now that I'd better just stay put. I didn't want the poor girl to know that I knew she was going to get the cane. How embarrassing that would be for her! So I just stayed quietly in my place, watching.
"Right, girl, get your skirt up!"
The girl, who was stood with her back to me, facing the back of the chair, slowly lifted the hem of her skirt higher and higher, until the skirt was bunched up around her waist. There, just a few feet in front of me, were a pair of bright white pants inadequately covering two very round bottom cheeks. I never knew for sure that girls had to do that for the cane. I know that in my school they had had to bend over the desk for the Headmaster to cane them, and it was rumoured that he made them show their knicks, but it was never confirmed.... I could well understand why he had made all the girls get their skirts up. Especially Maureen Lewis, who always seemed to be getting sent to his study for a caning, even when she hadn't seemed to have done anything wrong. After all these years I was suddenly envious of him.
"You've been here before. You know what to do. Take your knickers down!"
I watched, suddenly agog, as the Sixth-former slipped her fingers into the waistband of her knickers, and slowly peeled them down to just above her knees. My line of sight was pretty well filled with two rounded globes, quivering slightly I think - or maybe that was just me!
"Bend over the chair and brace yourself. I'm going to give you six of the very best. Your behaviour today fully deserves everything that's coming to you. Bend over, I said!!"
She bent forward, reaching over for the far side of the chair. I was cramped under the desk, but I dare not move. This was very difficult though, because as she bent over I saw sights that caused at least one part of me to move, and move significantly at that.
The cane was laid across both cheeks, and as I held my breath it rose into the air and came down with a Whoosh! to land with a resounding Crack!
"Ow, Miss. One, Miss"
The cane again rose into the air and once more fell in a sweeping arc, hitting its target just fractionally below the previous impact.
"Yeeow! Two, Miss"
Two neat red lines started to develop across the pale cheeks. The girl's legs started to move noticeably, displaying even more than before. I could hardly breathe.
"Ouch!! Three, Miss!"
The Headmistress spoke again. "I trust you will learn your lesson from this. I doesn't give me any pleasure to have to cane a girl with her knickers down. But your behaviour is totally disgraceful. If you repeat this then next time you will be taking your pants down in front of the whole school!!"
My mind started racing with the possibilities, wondering what old Mr Thompson, one of the teachers in the school, who appeared to be about ninety, would make of it. The thought suddenly occurred to me that maybe a public caning of a pupil's bare bottom wouldn't be a new sight to him anyway. But before I got too far down that route the fourth stroke of the cane landed.
"Yeeeoww!!! Four, Miss".
Each stroke was just slightly below the previous one, neatly parallel. Obviously the Headmistress was an expert in the use of the cane.
"Yeeow, owww, owww!" The girl was now in obvious distress. "Five, Miss, oh please Miss, pleeease no more!"
"One more, Harrison. This I trust will make you think in future about your behaviour".
She laid the cane purposefully across the rounded buttocks, now glowing red, and slowly raised it high into the air. Suddenly the door burst open, and there framed in the doorway was the Senior Mistress, and peering in over her shoulder were Bob and Tony. Their mouths opened wide at the sight in front of them. I was so surprised to see them that I gave a start, and loudly bumped my head on the desk.
"What? What, what the..." The Headmistress was lost for words.
* * *
We drove back, silent for most of the journey.
"Well, at least the tannoy works!" said Bob.
I was puzzled. "How do you know? We got hurled out of there pretty sharpish," I said.
"Very simple," Tony said. "That's why we came rushing along. Everyone in the school could hear what was going on. You'd managed to connect up the tannoy OK - it's just that you left the channel open. Everyone in the school heard everything! The Senior Mistress was in a right state, and all the girls were giggling at someone else getting whacked on the bare bum over the speakers. What a pity I didn't have my tape recorder."
He started to chuckle, and within minutes we were all laughing our heads off. Not quite a normal day for an electrician.