From the Top Shelf - Susan, Part 2

Last week we found Emily and Susan in the attic, awaiting the Master. I won't keep you in suspense any longer; let's see what happens next.

"You know the penalty for disobedience?" he asked.

"Y-yes sir..." stuttered Susan.

"Give me the whip." Susan took the riding crop which was hanging by the strap from her wrist and placed it in his hand as ordered.

"Now adopt a proper riding position. I ordered you not to mount this beast and I come into the attic and find you doing exactly that. Well, you'll get a hotter ride than you bargained for, my lass."

Susan straightened her legs in the stirrups and lowered her head in the classic jockey position. Master Grimes lifted the tail of her jacket with the end of the horsewhip so that the full expanse of her exquisite backside was visible, its pertness emphasised by the skin-tight riding breeches which enhanced the roundness of its contours.

Without warning, the master delivered six stinging blows to Susan's rear in rapid succession.

"AAAAAAAAAOWWWWWWW" Susan cried. Her white-gloved hands, which had been gripping the reins, flew back instinctively to protect her punished posterior.

"Did I tell you to put your hands there?" the master asked.

"N-n-no." Her voice rose in pitch as she uttered the word but she kept her hands on her bottom. This meant she had to use her shoulder against the horse's neck to remain in position. Emily marvelled at Susan's skill in doing this and at the position she was able to maintain; her head low and her bottom impossibly high in the air. She must have had a lot of practice.

"Take your hands away, girl," the master ordered, his voice calm and authoritative.

Slowly and hesitantly Susan complied, placing her hands back on the reins. The young master produced a pen-knife from his pocket and, reaching forward, cut a long straight line from the top of her riding breeches down to the crotch under the cleft of her buttocks. This meant that the skin-tight material split, pulled apart and formed a perfect 'O' shape.

Susan's bottom was now exposed; perfectly framed in the oval of the straining white cloth. Emily thought how ingenious this was. It meant Susan could be punished on the bare without having to dismount and remove her breeches. Master Grimes seemed unhappy with his work. He reached out again and adjusted the cloth so that even more of the maid's voluptuous bottom was exposed; still framed in the perfect O shape. Resting the whip across Susan's waist, Master Grimes removed his waistcoat and rubbed his hands briskly.

"Now," he said, "let's get down to business!"


Susan's feet rested in the stirrups and she held the reins tightly, her bare bottom pushed high in the air as the riding crop descended on the bare for the first time.

Emily watched. She felt a warm glow inside, feeling more and more that she belonged here. Outside the world was gripped by the stresses and strains of the 1990's, but here, reality seemed far away. It was like living a dream; a fantasy.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaooow!" cried Susan.

The crop gave a crisp thwack! each time it descended on the quivering orbs of her buttocks.

Several more times the crop descended and Susan's cries followed each one.

Obviously, Master Grimes did not believe in sparing the rod. Emily lost count of the strokes as Susan's bottom became red with criss-crossing stripes. All of this was being done for her pleasure and she sighed ecstatically when the master ceased belabouring her glowing rear and rested his arm.

"Now then," he said, "since you think you're such an accomplished rider, young lady, I'd like to see you work up a fine gallop."

Whimpering quietly, Susan began to work the rocking-horse into motion. "Come on, girl, faster!" urged the master as she gained momentum. Emily thought she looked like a prize jockey in the Grand National and put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. The huge rockers trundled back and forth on the wooden floor relentlessly until the master was satisfied with the speed and motion generated by his senior maid.

Then, each time the horse tipped forward, he began to apply the crop to Susan's straining buttocks.

"Oh, Master, please stop..." she moaned.

"I'll stop when it pleases me to stop," he replied tersely.

He was now making use of the twin leather flaps at the business end of the whip rather than the pliant staff which had previously created a striped pattern. The result was a dappled effect of reddening rectangles over horizontal stripes. Wickedly, Emily thought of Susan's thrashed backside as a canvas, with Master Grimes the artist, and the O-shaped cut in her breeches as the frame.

"Enough!" he called eventually and Susan stopped her rocking action. As the movement abated, he reached out and caressed the chastened girl's glowing nates, admiring, as he did so, the extent of his handiwork.

"Excellent!" he declared. "Now you may dismount."

Sorely, poor Susan got off the horse and stood before him.

She dabbed at her eyes with one white-gloved hand and rubbed her bottom with the other. Master Grimes raised her face with his hand. "Keep your chin up, my dear," he said.

Turning to Emily he ordered her to bring a wooden stool. Nervously, she located one in the corner of the attic and brought it to him. Sitting thereon, he pulled Susan over his knee and unceremoniously yanked her mutilated breeches down to the bend of her knees, fully exposing her bare bottom and the backs of her thighs. The unfortunate maid began to struggle as he administered a thorough and sound spanking, on top of her already glowing buttocks, ignoring her kicking legs and unconvincing pleas for mercy. Emily looked on, beginning to understand the consummate pleasure that Susan and Mrs Dickens derived from such rigorous chastisement.

Master Grimes finally allowed Susan to get to her feet. "Do you see what happens to young ladies who disobey my strict orders?" he asked Emily.

"Yes sir...indeed I do," she replied meekly.

"Good, now go to your room and consider what you have witnessed this afternoon. Consider what will happen if you choose to disobey me."

Despite her pain, Susan gave Emily an encouraging smile as she turned and walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned briefly and saw that Master Grimes and Susan were locked in an embrace, her arms around him as he soothed her bottom.

Closing the door behind her, she again asked herself; when will it be my turn?

When indeed? We will learn the answer to that question next week.