by Emily Tilton
I throw myself on what I have heard from his grace the duke is your boundless and disinterested proclivity to help young women in such straits attain domestic happiness despite their faults and naughtiness. Should you find Miss Middleton’s case of interest, a word in response to this letter will bring me to your door with all speed, ready to aid in locating the girl and placing you or anyone else you should nominate in a position to correct her as she deserves and to oversee her conveyance to an eligible situation. As you will see from Mrs. Mund’s letter, if we act with dispatch we will most probably have little difficulty in discovering Miss Middleton’s whereabouts, the nobleman with whom it appears she eloped—or perhaps, as I cannot help but hope for the girl’s own sake, who abducted her—having left behind several signs of his likely identity.
His grace has advised me expressly to state, since my character is hitherto unknown to you, that I am happy to countenance measures both firm and unusual in the chastisement and training of young women. It seems that Mrs. Mund attempted to curb the willfulness she found in the girl—though I must state that Miss Middleton, growing up in the Pettigrew household, did not as far as I know present any disciplinary trouble. Unhappily, the widow’s efforts upon the girl’s bare bottom did not, it would appear, produce the results one might have desired. I fear that if you do interest yourself in Miss Middleton’s case you will find it necessary to punish her very soundly and perhaps very shamefully as well, perhaps removing her to one of those institutions of your own supervision concerning which his grace has informed me, where young women like Miss Middleton learn to yield to a man’s natural rights over their persons. In any case, the girl has no other guardian but me, and I am that in no legal sense. As far as my responsibility be concerned in the matter of her correction, I commend her to your methods, and hope that if she be found at fault in this trouble you will punish her with the utmost rigor, sparing not to apply the rod to the area at fault, baring the girl there to instruct her in the proper conduct of a young woman in regard to her maiden charms.
I hope you will understand from the above that despite our not having met previously I am very desirous of making your acquaintance, and look forward to being
Your humble and obedient servant,
The Earl of Cuffingham
Doctor Brown frowned as he turned to Mrs. Mund’s letter. He had grown well accustomed to having his methods misapprehended by his noble patrons, affected as they were by their inclinations in respect of their own erotic desires. Each individual instance, though, required its own tactic in response: the Earl of Cuffingham might well have to be enlightened through a demonstration either upon this Miss Middleton or some other young lady of the beneficial effects rendered by exercising his masculine rights. To that end, the doctor would need to pay careful attention to the precise circumstances of Miss Middleton’s case: if the girl’s seducer should prove himself not to be a natural man, perhaps she could be given to the earl.
The widow’s letter proved unhelpful in that regard, however, though it did assist Doctor Brown in understanding the impetus behind the girl’s elopement, if such it was.
Weatherstone
4th May
My lord,
I regret to inform you, though the fault of it has no reference to myself and I must confess myself unperturbed upon the circumstance, that Miss Joanna Middleton, the wicked girl who I am given to understand has been undeservingly fortunate enough to interest your lordship, has eloped from my house with a person as yet unknown but, it seems, of noble rank. I hasten to add that I am in the process of learning the identity of the miscreant’s lover from a parlor maid in my employ, who is currently undergoing stern correction in my stable with a view to obtaining the information.
This maid, it seems, was herself seduced into dishonor by the servant of Miss Middleton’s seducer: the lash across her bare backside will, I am certain, both recompense her for that lewd misbehavior and draw from her the name of her own violator’s master. I very much regret to say that it seems entirely clear the man belongs to your exalted estate, my lord, and that a nobleman carried Miss Middleton away, but the parlor maid has earned a very thorough thrashing with her reluctance to tell me more. Even as I write these words, I can hear the girl’s shrieks of pain as my butler whips her upon her impertinent hind-cheeks, as I confess I should have had Miss Middleton whipped months ago.
I will of course write again to you the instant I learn anything that may be of use to the recovery and stern correction of Miss Middleton; I write now before obtaining the seducer’s name only in order that your lordship may know of what has transpired and make your lordship’s preparations for traveling here or wherever the hussy should be found. In respect of that journey, I beg leave to inform your lordship that the girl’s conduct, which I have endeavored to correct with regular bare-bottom discipline that I am certain would have produced beneficial results in any girl not stained as Miss Middleton is from her birth, has rendered her an unsuitable companion for a respectable widow. When she is discovered, your lordship must, I fear, see to her future situation without reference to myself.
I should add, by way of not depriving you of my assistance and counsel, that I would certainly not object to being present as your lordship or your lordship’s agent corrects the wayward girl. Moreover, I should also be happy to make recommendations as to the most eligible techniques for her punishment, such as parading her in the nude before your household in hope of teaching her shame and perhaps even whipping her upon the wicked part of her person that led her, as it is wont to lead so many of her ilk, astray. Indeed, I might suggest that the wicked girl be made subject to mastering in particular by conjugal means, seeing as she will surely by then—indeed, I am certain, by this very moment as I write—have thrown away her maidenhood upon the so-called altar of love. I do not believe your lordship would be remiss in his duty of care should he himself undertake to master the girl thoroughly, whether in a secret, soundproof chamber or before his household, teaching her obedience and respect by those masculine means that the world prescribes only wives shall feel. As a widow I suppose I may express with some confidence the belief that Miss Joanna Middleton will not become a good girl until she has felt those means employed upon her comely young person in the most exacting way.
Bearing such a double stain upon her honor, as a child conceived on the wrong side of the sheet and now having returned thither in pursuit of the lewd pleasure to be had in a seducer’s arms, surely your lordship will share my opinion that the girl should henceforth, for her own good and that of her caretaker, be employed as a mere instrument of a worthy man’s pleasure, and perhaps shared among his acquaintance as some men share their wives. Miss Middleton may in that case prove of benefit to some respectable lady whose husband may choose to share such a dishonored girl rather than his wedded bride.
I am at all events, my lord, ready to discuss these notions with you should you deem them helpful in correcting Miss Middleton. I will await your reply, ever
Your humble servant,
Mrs. Richard Mund
Doctor Brown rang for his valet directly he put the widow’s striking epistle down upon his desk.
“John,” he addressed the young man, recently come into his service from the Royal Fusiliers 5th Sussex regiment, traditionally commanded by a scion of the Lourcy Dukes of Panton and Earls of Mercester, “we have a curious matter to attend to. Pray pack my valise for a two-day journey: we will, I think it probable, be journeying into Wiltshire before evening.”
“Yes, sir,” returned John Eliot, who had come very highly recommended by Colonel Lourcy both for his discretion and his sexual prowess. He moved toward the door that led to Doctor Brown’s bedchamber with the obvious intent of carrying out the physician’s instruction.
“Stay a moment, John,” said Doctor Brown, “and please to peruse this letter. I shall perhaps have need of your erotic expertise in this case, and I should like you to be in possession of the relevant facts.”
He picked up the widow’s letter from his desk and reached it to John, who took it with a grave look upon his handsome face, whose appealing, open character and blond curls betrayed so thoroughly his honest agricultural origins. The valet looked over the closely written sheets with great attention, of the same variety with which he had ministered to Doctor Brown’s every need since coming into his service at the expense of the good duke, who had decided his favorite medical man deserved a body servant worthy of his philosophic pursuits.
Doctor Brown watched John’s brows rise as he read, but the tall, muscular soldier showed no other sign of a response either emotional or libidinal, until he handed the letter back to his master. The physician studied his valet’s face for a moment, struck as he had often been by the young man’s discretion: any other man of his age and inclinations, whether menial, gentleman, or peer, would surely have remarked upon the singular contents of the widow’s epistle. John Eliot remained mute and in full possession of his own counsel, just as Doctor Brown knew he himself would have done.
“I am curious as to your thoughts, John,” the physician finally said.
“With respect to what, sir?” John asked, as if his master might have made reference to the widow Mund’s handwriting, or taste in adverbs.
Doctor Brown chuckled. “Let us say, with respect to whether this Mrs. Mund has taken a proper course in correcting this Miss Middleton, insofar as we can discern from her letter.”
John nodded seriously, then spoke in his broad, pleasing country accent. “I should say it is very hard to tell, since Mrs. Mund, at a guess, had an unnatural husband as didn’t awaken her properly, the way a natural man does a bride. I suppose she is still awaiting the sort of fucking she truly needs, and has taken it out upon her companion.”
“Indeed,” Doctor Brown replied, nodding himself and highly pleased with his valet’s frankness and perspicacity. “And what of Miss Middleton? Do you think her likely to be wicked, as Mrs. Mund does?”
John frowned. “Are you a-testing of me, sir? You know I don’t believe that girls’ cunnies make them wicked, any more than you do.” The valet’s honest face reflected some reproach at his master’s failure to give sufficient credit to his well-developed understanding of Doctor Brown’s theories upon the matter. “If the girl did run away, I only hope she is having her first fucking from a natural man as knows how to train her properly.”
Chapter Eight
Joanna lay exhausted upon her right side, her wrists still trussed behind her bent thighs. The masked nobleman had gently toppled her to the mattress after the shudders from her first climax had left her body.
“Well, sir,” she heard him say to his servant, “how say you to that maiden spend?”
“Very pretty, my lord,” the man in the brown coat replied. “Very pretty indeed. Will you fuck her now?”
The response Joanna expected—the yes spoken by the cruel man who had just whipped her with a strap and brought ecstasy to her body not for love’s sake but for the purpose, it seemed, of training her as a man trains a filly for hard riding—did not come. The nobleman did not answer his servant for so long that Joanna, who had closed her eyes in shame and simple exhaustion, opened them again to see that the dark eyes in the black mask were looking her naked body over, feasting themselves on her maiden charms, before meeting Joanna’s gaze again with an expression she thought she would have found unreadable even had she had a view of his whole face.
“I think not,” the man finally said very softly. He turned to look behind him, at the man who stood in the corner. Something in the attitudes of both men toward one another impressed Joanna, then: she found that she wanted to think of the man in the brown coat as his lordship’s faithful servant, for the deferential way man treated master, and the familiar but obliging air with which master employed man’s assistance. She wondered suddenly, and rather in surprise at her own thoughts, whether these two, despite their apparent wickedness and cruelty, might not appear model subjects of the queen when moving without their masks in polite society.
“Joanna presents a different sort of challenge, does she not, to my other girls?”
“Indeed, my lord,” returned the servant. “Though she reminds me a deal of Miss Ginevra. The bottom gets nice and red as Miss Ginevra’s did, when you whipped her, and Miss Ginevra, if your lordship recalls, always spent like a tuppenny whore, just the way this one did, when you rubbed the cunt a little.”
The nobleman gave a bark of laughter. Joanna had to close her eyes again as her face burned with a kind of shame to which she had thought perhaps she had become immune, after Mrs. Mund’s tender ministrations. How many girls had they... trained, this way? Had they tied, and whipped, and... Joanna’s mind recoiled even now from the awful word Mrs. Mund had seemed so intent on using again and again once she had begun to instruct Joanna in the degradations a girl must it seemed expect in her bridal chamber—and the worse ones that awaited her should she allow a man his way outside it.
“True, sir. Very true. But I was not speaking of that sort of resemblance so much, though you have reason in your comparison, too, since Miss Ginevra Farley came from the same sort of gentlefolk as it seems our Joanna does.” She felt his hand, then, on her hip, and she trembled as he moved it down to rub her bottom, awakening the dull remains of the sting he had delivered with the horrid strap.
She whimpered at the soreness his touch found, but to her dismay the sound conveyed to her ears, as it must also have conveyed to his, the reawakening of the other feeling, the one that made her move her hips and her bottom-cheeks so lewdly. She managed, barely, to keep still, but when his fingers moved again, to touch between the little round apples of her young rear end, she could not, and her backside surged, if only a bit, so that she had to scrunch up her face as if she could close her eyes even tighter against the sight, the very reality, of the humiliating scene. She gave a little cry of shame and alarm: he had touched her there again—tender fingertips moving up and down Joanna’s little cunny, finding just the lewdness of which Mrs. Mund had accused her.
“Hush, Joanna,” the nobleman said softly. “You will have your first fucking soon, never fear. My cock will open you just where I have my fingers, and make you a woman under me. You will give pleasure, and have pleasure in return, once you are used to receiving the prick.” His fingers moved slowly, not quickening the pace of the delight he had visited upon her cunny before, and not lingering upon the place where Joanna most wanted them to linger. She gave a questioning little moan, and she moved her hips helplessly, begging him with her body since she knew she could never do it with her voice, but the masked man seemed intent on keeping her in need.
“That resemblance notwithstanding, though...”
Still rubbing her cunny gently and tantalizingly, he spoke in a different voice, to his servant—the tone he used, Joanna understood suddenly, not just to communicate with his man but also to degrade the girl he had in his power, training her in the ways of her new station as... what had Mrs. Mund said, at the height of the terrible naked spanking, when she had told the story of her night bound over her husband’s sea chest, at the mercy of his friends’ pricks?
A fucking piece. Joanna felt a new flare of heat both in her face and, terribly, urgently, between her thighs. Another moan escaped her lips.
The nobleman’s voice returned for a moment to his soft, coaxing tone, as he interrupted himself. “Hush, Joanna, I say. I am speaking to my valet. If you cannot be quiet, I shall have to spank you upon this already well-punished hind-part.”
“Oh, no,” Joanna whimpered, the thought blazing in her mind to frighten her and to stoke her wanton need in a mingling of feeling and sensation that confused her terribly even as her body responded of its own needy accord. He accompanied the words with a movement of his hand away from her aching cunny and onto her sore bottom-cheeks, where the slickness of his fingertips from her wantonness and the additional sting in the place he had whipped with the awful strap made her cry out in un
willed desperation for the hand’s return between her legs.
“Naughty girl,” he said, and he took the hand away entirely, so that Joanna’s thoughts and emotions became horribly entangled: she wished for its return and she felt quixotically grateful that he had stopped causing her to betray her honor so shamefully. She tried to muster defiance, and she opened her eyes, to find him looking right back at her, and though she felt her eyes widen in alarm she still managed to look daggers—or perhaps table knives—back at the amused dark pupils behind the mask.
He turned carelessly to look again at his valet. “Is she not, sir?”
“A naughty girl, my lord? Indeed, yes. The naughtiest you’ve yet trained, I believe.”
Joanna bit her lip and suppressed the whimper that rose to her throat, so that it came out only the tiniest whine. Still the nobleman turned back to her and she saw his arm move rapidly, out of the corner of her eye, and then she felt and heard the sharp spank on her aching bottom, and cried out with the pain, her eyes watering and yet her cunny contracting at the same time, ever so shamefully, between her thighs.
“That... is... my... point,” the nobleman said, in the voice that he used for the servant, but looking into Joanna’s face as he accompanied each word with a spank that made her sob even as her wayward hips moved with a terrible craving for the caress of the hand that punished her now instead.
He stopped the spanking and began to rub Joanna’s bottom, still looking into her eyes as if greedy to see every gasping breath she took now. Though her whimpering continued, for she had no means of preventing it, he did not break the flow of his discourse with his valet anymore, but continued it despite keeping his unwavering attention upon her.
“Miss Joanna comes from the same sort of gentlefolk Miss Ginevra did, but Miss Joanna is also far naughtier than Miss Ginevra was. Or perhaps I mean rather that Miss Joanna’s naughtiness has been found out—by the execrable Mrs. Mund—far more thoroughly.”
