‘Be silent, girl,’ Master Marmaduke growled.
‘Full and firm and smooth as satin, and just begging for a smack!’ Eustace brought his hand down and Faith gulped as she watched her friends bottom bounce under the impact. Eustace brought his hand down again, and then again. The sound of flesh impacting on flesh rang around the meadow, mixing with little yelps of pain and malicious girlish giggles.
Faith felt Master Marmaduke’s hand on her waist as he pulled her close to him, then put his lips to her ear. ‘Enjoying the show, little one?’ he drawled. ‘It will be your turn to perform in a minute.’
As he spoke his hand left her hip and found the gap at the back of her drawers, and Faith could not quite suppress a little squeak as she felt his fingers probed the furrow between her buttocks. Not daring to move, not able to look away from Charity’s rapidly reddening bottom, for a moment she wondered if she might be about to faint, but a sharp pinch of her bottom cheek revived her.
‘All right, Eustace, that will do,’ Marmaduke interceded. ‘Leave a little work for the ladies,’ and all too quickly Faith found herself in Charity’s erstwhile place, over Marmaduke’s lap on the creaking wicker hamper.
‘Hands, girl,’ he warned, and reluctantly she offered Angelica her arms, which the young lady seized by the wrists and hauled, then Faith felt Belinda grab her ankles, and with Marmaduke’s left hand pinning her corseted waist she could hardly even wriggle. She bit her lip and tried to hide her blushing face as she felt her drawers pulled brusquely apart.
‘Another lovely bottom,’ Marmaduke assessed appreciatively. ‘Not quite so bounteously fleshy as yours, I think, Eustace.’ Faith tried not to listen to the shameful talk, but there was no way to stop her ears. ‘But it is a nice plump little morsel all the same. Silky smooth and enviably unblemished.’
Faith tried to think of something else, but she could no more ignore his stroking, appraising hand than not listen to what he was saying.
Then suddenly the meadow was quiet and she missed the hand, as something told her it was now raised and ready. ‘Ow!’ The cry was more shock than pain as his palm impacted on her bottom cheeks. The first smacks were moderate in force and, though they stung, were almost bearable. The only thing Faith was free to move was her head, and this she swung around increasingly franticly as the slaps became harder with each new smack. As the building pain made her blink with every impact, she glimpsed a different sight for every spank.
Smack! Angelica was smiling evilly at her.
Smack! Poor Charity was standing, red-faced with hands on head.
Smack! Eustace was next to Charity, watching the spanking and leering.
Smack! The peaceful river winding away into the distance.
Smack! Angelica, her eyes glazed, licking her pretty lips with pleasure.
Smack! Was that a tear trickling down Charity’s flushed face?
Smack! Mr Brooke was approaching, and in his arms there was a bundle…
Smack! The spanking was too hard now, the stinging in her bottom too intense, to think of anything except…
Smack! When would it be over?
Faith had told herself she would not cry out; promising herself she would not give Angelica the satisfaction. But that was a while ago now and had even been a different Faith. So despite her vow she yelped and squealed, and tried to wriggle out of that relentless hand’s reach and finally, worst of all, she heard her own voice begging for mercy.
‘All done, you two?’ Marmaduke enquired pleasantly and pulled on his cigar with evident pleasure.
Faith and Charity had been set the task of preparing willow switches. Stripping off the bark and smoothing down irregularities on a pebble Mr Brooke had brought back from the river. Both maids had been instructed to strip two sticks ‘just in case’, and so the task had already taken them at least twenty minutes.
But the delay did not seem to worry the picnic party. They merely partook of some more champagne and the men lazily enjoyed their cigars, and eventually Faith had to admit that her switches were ready. Charity also confirmed the same, and reluctantly held up her two willow sticks.
‘Very well.’ Master Marmaduke glanced at the wands. ‘Now, you can’t bend over properly in those corsets, so take them off.’ He turned and started ambling back to the others, but checked and turned again, as if something had just come back to him. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, with just the ghost of a smile on his lips, ‘and take your drawers off too.’
Faith was thunderstruck, and for a moment she just looked at his receding back. It was just so shameful, so humiliating. Then Charity touched her shoulder gently and she turned to see her friend’s blue eyes looking at her solemnly.
‘Come on, Faith,’ Charity whispered, ‘help unlace these stays, and then I’ll do you.’
The two girls helped each other out of the tight corsets, and then reluctantly they undid the strings and took off their drawers, all the time Faith conscious of the scrutiny of the company, and all the time blushing like fury and holding back the tears. When it was done they had not a stitch on but the short, sleeveless camisoles in thin cotton they wore beneath the corsets, and their black stockings gartered above the knee.
Faith hung her head in abject humiliation, covering the brown curls of her sex with her hands and wishing the green grass of the meadow would open up and swallow her. But there was even worse to come.
‘All right, bring your sticks over here, girls,’ Master Marmaduke ordered, and trying to ignore the condescending titters of the ladies, Faith obeyed, one hand clutching the stripped willow switches, the other trying to cover her crotch. She was aware of Charity with her, attempting to do the same.
‘Now, give your switches to Mr Brooke for the moment, and place your hands upon your heads.’
‘Please, sir,’ Faith begged desperately, ‘it, it’s not decent.’
‘What cheek!’
‘Rank impertinence!’
‘Who the devil does the little chit think she is?’
‘It seems we have rebellion in the ranks, Brooke.’
The butler stepped to Faith’s side and spoke quietly but menacingly. ‘Don’t be silly now, girl. Give me the sticks and do as you are told. You are in enough trouble already; I would not make it worse if I was you.’
With a defeated sob, Faith reluctantly obeyed. Charity had already complied with the instruction, so the two friends stood, naked from the waist down, side-by-side, as Master Marmaduke stood close before them, smiling.
‘Now, unbutton your camisoles,’ he said.
Biting her bottom lip to stop it trembling and desperately fighting back the tears, Faith again complied, and once both girls’ tops were unbuttoned they were told to replace their hands upon their heads, lifting Faith’s naked breasts and thrust them out, making her even more horribly self-conscious, the remarks of the company not helping.
‘I say, nice big titties on the blonde one, what?’ Eustace chortled, looking more red-faced by the minute.
‘I suppose they have tolerable figures, considering they’re mere servants,’ Belinda sneered.
‘Young serving girls are always getting above themselves,’ Angelica said acidly. ‘Which is why it is so important to keep the pretty ones in check.’
The maids were given back their switches and the whole company repaired to the far boundary of the meadow, where there was a wooden stile. Faith clutched her two willow sticks disconsolately, following Charity as they made their way through the long grass, dotted with pink campion and yellow vetchling. The sight of Charity’s plump pink bottom, below the white hem of her camisole, concentrated her mind on what was to come, every bit as much as the switches in her hand.
Stile climbing was no activity for young ladies in long gowns, and Eustace declared his determination to watch the proceedings from the rear, so Brooke climbed the fence at Master Marmaduke’s request.
Whoosh! She slashed the switch through the air experimentally, the sound making Faith’s stomach tighten, and she saw Charity’s bottom cheeks clench convulsively.
‘Give it to her, Belle,’ Angelica urged, shiny-eyed with excitement. ‘Stripe the little hussy.’
Belinda placed the stick across Charity’s bottom, and the maid gave a little gasp of fear. The auburn-haired girl raised her arm and the white wood of the stripped willow caught the late afternoon sun for a moment. Then she swept it down.
Charity gave a high-pitched squeak of pain as the willow lashed across her buttocks, sending her bottom cheeks bouncing with the impact, and Faith watched dry-mouthed as the tramlines bloomed on her friend’s twitching bottom.
Belinda paused, cutting the switch through the air and laughing as she watched Charity’s bottom flinch in response to the sinister whooshing sound. Clearly she meant to make her six strokes count and ensure that the ordeal was prolonged as long as possible. Faith found the waiting unendurable, and had half a mind to turn and make a run for her clothes.
‘Keep your eyes on that bottom, girl.’ Master Marmaduke’s voice was close, his hands on her hips, his lips brushing her ear. ‘Remember, it will be your turn in a minute.’
‘I shall whip you harder than that, though.’ Angelica had moved to her other side.
‘That is a lovely plump bum, your friend has.’ Eustace had closed in, too. As the wand lifted and arced down to crack across Charity’s cheeks a second time, Faith knew there was going to be now escaping her own fate.
The second set of lines appeared, angry red on the pink cheeks of the blonde maid’s bottom. The next stroke seemed harder and Charity gave a startled gasp of pain. Faith almost cried out in sympathy and Marmaduke’s hands gripped her waist more firmly.
‘That’s the ticket,’ Angelica encouraged, ‘make the little baggage sing.’
‘Good cut!’ Eustace called out. ‘That’s the way we used to flog our fags, eh, Marmaduke?’
‘That’s right.’ His voice was still a low whisper in Faith’s ear, and she tried to swallow as his hand moved from her hip and travelled down to her bare bottom.
Belinda struck again, and Charity gave a shriek of pain that provoked a round of approving titters. Faith could see her friend’s bottom clench and quiver as she stamped, first one foot and then the other, in an apparent attempt to cope with the pain. Faith found the hand stroking her bottom terribly distracting, but she did not know if she really wanted it to stop.
The next stroke came down, perhaps a little lighter as it seemed to provoke less response, and Faith realised with a sick certainty that after one more stroke she would be taking Charity’s place. The caressing hand suddenly felt very welcome, in comparison to the sort of strokes she was about to receive.
The white wand gleamed once more in the sunlight, and cut through the air with a sickening whirr once again. The willow switch cracked across Charity’s upper thighs, close below the sulcal groove of her bottom, and the young maid gave an agonised shriek. It was clear that she wanted to get up and clutch her bottom, but the butler held her hands firm and all she could do was yell and stamp her feet.
Only once she had quietened was she allowed to rise, and even then she was told not to touch her bottom but to place her hands back on her head. The maids passed each other as they changed places, Charity’s face tomato-red and her pretty cheeks wet with tears. Still, somehow she managed to give Faith an encouraging wink.
Faith quickly found herself bent across the top fence rail, the wood smooth beneath her tummy, warm where Charity’s flesh had already wriggled haplessly against it.
She took hold of the stile step, and Mr Brooke’s strong hands closed on her wrists, holding them in position. Behind her the configuration of the stile made her keep her legs apart, and orders from Master Marmaduke made her keep her feet a good way from the fence. The position made her feel terribly, utterly exposed. She thought of Charity’s neat little quim, peeking pinkly from between her legs as she awaited the first stroke, and she knew that the company were now being treated to as good a view of her own. Looking up she saw an amused glint in Mr Brooke’s usually impassive eye, making her blush all the more. She dropped her head and found she could see back through her legs.
Not that there was anything she wished to see back there. Angelica was striking poses with a willow wand, and Faith tried not to think about the sickening whooshing sound. Then she saw the pink skirts of her tormentor coming closer.
For a few seconds Faith did not even breathe. Then she felt the cold switch gently tapping on her bottom and let out a little sigh of anxiety. She felt the wand move away and closed her eyes, gripping the stile as hard as ever she could.
The willow cane came down and fairly cracked across her buttocks, and Faith expelled a surprised hiss as the pain ripped through her. She was partly aware of laughter and comments of ‘good show!’ as she shook her head and stamped her feet and fought back the tears.
She succeeded in doing so, but not for long. The next stroke hurt even more and the third searing wave of pain broke straight through the banks of her resistance. To peals of carefree laughter she moaned with agony, stamping uselessly as the tears flooded down her face.
The fourth stroke was low and hard, punishing the tender thigh flesh above her stocking tops. She yelped and tried to rise, the need to clutch and comfort her sore bottom overwhelming her.
‘Oh no you don’t, young miss,’ Brooke chuckled as he maintained his iron grip.
‘By thunder, looks like you fetched her that time, Angelica, old girl!’ Eustace’s jovial boom announced admiringly.
‘That’s it, Angie, stripe the little thief!’ Belinda’s voice was still thick with excitement.
‘Stop clenching those buttocks, girl,’ Marmaduke warned sternly. ‘We could always give you more strokes for poor deportment.’
This last remark sent thrills of fear coursing through Faith’s belly, and she did her best to relax her poor bottom, pleading silently for it to be over.
There was a whoosh, a loud crack and a ferocious blaze of pain, and it was a moment before she could think of anything except the agony in her bottom, and when it started to subside she realised the laughter was even more ribald than before.
‘Good job she made two!’
‘I say, Angelica, that was a beauty. Never saw a cane broken on a girl before.’
‘Here, Belinda, pass me that other switch. You know I barely tapped her. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wicked little baggage had not weakened it on purpose.’
Sensing more devilries from Angelica, Faith tensed again, but to her huge relief Marmaduke’s voice cut in. ‘Nonsense, Angelica, look at the stripe you gave her. It’s no wonder you snapped it. These willow wands are thin, and they are not rattan, you know. Come on, you have another stripe to give her.’
A feeling of profound gratitude towards him flooded Faith, but was soon rudely elbowed aside by her escalating trepidation.
The final stroke came at last though and, once again, Faith’s whole consciousness was engulfed in a red tidal wave of pain.
‘May we get dressed please, Mr Brooke?’
The butler looked at the near-naked girls with a disdainful, appraising eye. ‘You will get dressed when I tell you and not before,’ he said. ‘Master Marmaduke may well wish to inspect your stripes again on his return.’
Faith felt certain that Mr Brooke’s own pleasure in their nakedness had more to do with their continuing humiliation than any preferences or orders of Master Marmaduke.
Young Mr Savillard had gone off with
Miss Angelica and one of the rugs after the thrashing, whilst Master Eustace and Miss Belinda had taken the other rug and a walk in the opposite direction, leaving the butler and the maids to clear up the picnic site.
Mr Brooke finished off some champagne as he watched the girls work, slipping one hand in his trouser pocket and quite obviously fondling himself. Faith did her best to ignore such shocking behaviour, and every now and then she looked longingly at the little pile of her own and Charity’s clothes.
‘Take everything out of the hamper, girls,’ the butler ordered, and Faith looked at him questioningly; surely they should be packing it, not emptying it. But his stern gaze met hers and she fearfully eyed the willow wand he’d picked up and was toying with.
Once the wicker basket was empty, the butler told the girls to tip it up and shake out any crumbs. Then he supervised them setting it down again on a flat and level area of grass. Faith could not imagine what the point of all this was, but she was not to be left puzzled for long.
‘Right, Faith, get into the basket,’ he ordered, and she turned to him, blinking with surprise.
‘Get in it…?’ she said, mystified. ‘But, it isn’t big enough?!’
The willow wand caught her on the thigh and she did not argue any more. With a good deal of difficulty she folded herself into the creaking confines of the hamper, which proved to be just big enough to take her tucked into a foetal position. Then Mr Brooke towered above her as she lay squashed into the basket, his tall figure blotting out most of the blue summer sky. He bent and she grunted a futile protest as a hand pressed, forcing her arms and limbs down. When he was satisfied, he closed the lid, and Faith felt the uncomfortable wicker pressing down on her shoulder and hip as the butler tried to force the basket closed.
‘Charity, press down here,’ he ordered, recruiting the help of Faith’s friend.
‘But, Mr Brooke, please…’ Charity was clearly reluctant to be his accomplice.
‘Do you want another whipping, girl?’ he snapped. ‘Now, push down with me.’
Faith gave a squeak of discomfort as the pressure increased, the wicker basket protesting its misuse by creaking noisily. She sensed the leather straps being secured, and panic seized her. She was terribly uncomfortable and utterly trapped. She forced herself to breathe deeply and calm down.
Damsels in Distress Page 12
