Lady Hamilton was not accustomed to being threatened by servants. She sat up straight and frowned at the nasty creature in front of her. “I repeat, you will assist me out of this baby bed at once. I demand to speak to the captain of this ship!” She was certain she was on a boat now; she had heard a whistle and could feel the movement of the vessel. By the hum of the engines, she suspected it to be quite a large ship.
“Come here, child. I believe you need to learn a lesson about how to address your elders.” A mechanical hand reached inside the crib and gripped her upper arm. She found herself being pulled to her feet and lifted out of the crib as if she weighed nothing. She was set on her feet facing the frightening apparition. Marjorie was taken aback at the strength of the woman. She held her head up however, and faced her down.
“You will unhand me, madam,” she ordered, with all the dignity she could muster. “For your information, I have been abducted against my will. Unless you want to be found complicit in my kidnapping, I suggest that you do all that you can to help return me to my family immediately!” In response, Nanny Trinka gave Margie a yank and in the blink of an eye she found herself bottom upwards over the woman’s lap. Her nightgown had ridden up leaving her bottom bare.
With the press of a button, Nanny Trinka adjusted the strength of her mechanical arm. She put it at its lowest setting, anything higher might do permanent harm to the young woman. The point was to blister the buttocks, not bruise them. The beauty of distributing a spanking with her mechanical prosthetic was that she felt no pain and could continue indefinitely with no variation in the speed or the strength of her swats. She smiled at the notion that she had become the ultimate spanking machine. Oh yes indeed, whether she had her sea legs or not, the young lady over her knee was in for a rough ride.
As Nanny Trinka knew, Lord Cavendish had taken over the room next to the nursery and had a peephole installed behind a picture on the wall. All he had to do was swing the picture away and he could easily see what was going on inside the nursery. He had just awakened and wanted to see if Marjorie was awake as well. As he looked through the carefully camouflaged peephole, he could see little Margie over her nanny’s lap. He chuckled, not at all surprised that Katrinka had not wasted any time taking advantage of her position. His former professor had confided in him often that she enjoyed nothing more than lighting into a naughty pair of soft, feminine buttocks. He sent her a silent blessing, she had arranged little Margie so that he had an excellent view of her bare bottom and kicking legs. And a delightful sight that bottom was. Her buttocks were plump and full, and jouncing with each fall of the professor’s mechanical hand. Her little bottom was rapidly becoming quite pink.
He listened carefully and he could just make it out, a keening sound. The young woman was howling, probably outraged and embarrassed at finding herself over a nanny’s lap being spanked like a little girl. Well it served her right. The conniving young woman deserved what she was getting and much, much more. A good night’s sleep and Marjorie being alert and well had made his protectiveness of the night before evaporate. All was fair now and, with Professor Pretzer’s help, he intended to bring the cheeky young woman to heel in record time.
Chapter Five
Lord Cavendish had just sat down to breakfast, enjoying a view of the sea from the dining room window. He never suffered from seasickness, even in the roughest of crossings. He was born to the sea, his father had liked to brag during their ocean voyages aboard this very yacht. This however, was not a rough voyage, not in the slightest, the seas were clear as far as the eye could see.
They were sailing as slowly as possible towards the northernmost tip of Scotland. Stefan had been called, via an encoded message, to his secret society, The Crypt Keepers of the Dragon. He had been inducted into the venerable society when he was a young lad away at boarding school. Membership was open to only the upper crust of British nobility. As the Viscount Cavendish, he had been automatically indoctrinated into its mysteries. His father had been a Grand Dragon at the time, so Stefan’s suitability had been without question. Someday, he too, would be made Grand Dragon, but not until he was in his dotage.
First, he had to pay his dues to the brotherhood. All members did this by going on missions. The society was dedicated to maintaining and protecting the valuables that belonged to Great Britain. The society had first been founded in 1007 A.D. and through the Crusades, the Inquisition and both World Wars, they had hidden, protected and retrieved valuable sacred items and artifacts that were the very basis of their individual societies and religions.
Stefan wondered what he was being called to do. Would he have to retrieve a stolen item? Bring a villain to justice? Arrange an assassination? He would know soon enough and then he would set out to complete his mission. Failure was not an option. Stefan, a fastidious man, did not like when a mission became messy, but as one of the more able-bodied of the current crop of noble Lords, he frequently found himself in dangerous situations that he may well have to fight his way out of. How could he protect Katrinka and Marjorie if they found themselves in precarious circumstances? Well, there was no sense in worrying about it now. He would make the appropriate plans once he knew the nature of the mission.
He was enjoying his breakfast, he preferred to eat a light meal in the morning. As he put marmalade on his toasted biscuit, he thought of young Archibald. He would probably know by now that Marjorie was missing. Or perhaps not, it was hard to tell with that young man. How bereft would he be? Katrinka had told him that through the air vent she had overheard Marjorie trick him into a proposal of marriage but he’d seemed fond enough of the girl. He hoped the young scientist would quickly get distracted by his inventing, assuming that the girl was fine and not suffer unduly. Surely it could not have escaped Archibald’s attention that he, Professor Pretzer and Marjorie had all vanished at the same exact time, could it?
Speaking of the girl, little Margie should also be eating her breakfast about now. On a very sore bottom, of course. He had no doubt that getting a spanking from Katrinka’s mechanical arm would be a most unpleasant experience. Soon enough he’d have the young lady over his knee for the spanking he’d promised her that day in the hired hack. He could not wait to make her his very own little one. The idea of a traditional marriage had never appealed to Stefan. He longed for a young bride, one who would submit to him both body and soul. He didn’t want some timid little thing. He wanted a woman with fire and passion burning in her breast, one with a thirst for adventure and could be a true companion to him. He knew within moments of meeting Lady Hamilton that she was the one he’d been searching for. Her passionate nature had ignited a responding spark within him. He burned with the need to claim her. He intended to master her, bend her to his will and make her his own.
Back in the nursery, little Margie was actually not eating breakfast just yet. She was still lying over her nanny’s lap, sobbing and defeated, hanging listlessly. Nanny was taking her temperature. It turned out that one of her mechanical fingers could judge the temperature of whatever it was immersed in and right now it was immersed in her bottom hole. Marjorie groaned. It was so terribly uncomfortable, unlubricated and pushed into an opening that had never had anything pushed into it before. She jerked as Nanny slapped her bottom with her human hand.
“Settle down, little one. It takes time to get an accurate reading.”
“I-I’m not a little girl. I’m a grown woman. Why do you insist on treating me like a child? This is so humiliating,” she sobbed.
“Because you are a little girl, no older than the age of six. You must accept the reality of what your life has become, little Miss Margie. Clearly you grew up without being taught how a true lady behaves and so we are starting over. Don’t you want to learn how to act like a great lady?”
Margie sniffled, “I suppose so. I don’t know. I don’t understand. Are you the person who abducted me? I dare say it wasn’t you in the carriage.”
Nanny’s human hand descended again for another slap
on her blistered bottom and again Margie squealed. It wasn’t as unpleasant as the mechanical hand, but falling on her already sore bum, it still hurt a great deal.
Finally Nanny withdrew her finger and Margie sighed in relief. She was lifted to her feet as quickly as she’d been pulled off of them and now Nanny was leading her to a table. She picked Margie up and set her down on the table top. She quickly whisked the delicate little nightgown off of her. Margie hunched over, covering her bare breasts from the woman’s prying eyes—or eye. She couldn’t get over the eye that telescoped out of the faceplate which appeared to be eating the nanny’s face. It was quite unnerving. Right now it was protruding and traveling up and down her naked body, seemingly inspecting it closely.
“Climb on to your hands and knees, little one,” Nanny ordered. Margie glared at her and in response her nanny held up a mechanical hand. “Do you need yet another spanking?” Margie reached back to rub her swollen aching bottom. She bit her lip, shook her head, and unhappily assumed the required position.
“Now lower your chest to the table top,” Nanny ordered in a no nonsense tone of voice. Margie reluctantly did so and before she knew it, Nanny had affixed straps across her upper back and calves. Margie was locked into a most humiliating position, naked with her bottom lifted high into the air.
“It’s enema time!” Nanny Trinka sang out as she opened a drawer under the table and took out something that Margie couldn’t quite see. She tried to look back over her shoulder straining to see what the woman was going to do to her.
“Enema? I don’t want an enema. I don’t need any enema. I … oh, oh no!” she cried as she felt Nanny’s cold metal finger now applying lubricant to her anus. Nanny took her time sinking her finger deep inside of her spreading the goo. Margie’s eyes widened as she realized that the finger was also able to extend, like her eye. She began to feel the finger snaking deep inside her and rotating. “Stop, dear god, please stop!” she cried.
“Oh you naughty girl, do you have any idea what nannies do to little girls who use bad language? No? Well we shall soon find out. It seems that this little one is determined to be cleaned out at both ends this very day. Perhaps that will become our daily routine. Wouldn’t that be nice?” she asked.
Margie was shaking her head no. She had begun to shake all over, trembling as she got a good look at what Nanny Trinka was about to insert in her lubricated bottom. It was a wicked looking clyster with a long, metal nozzle at one end and a plunger at the other. She was filling it up from the water pitcher.
“This first enema will be ocean water. Salt water is a nice place to start.”
“First?” Margie gasped.
“Oh yes, dear. If you don’t go three times a day, you are not healthy.”
“Three times a day?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes, and if you aren’t regular, you shall be cleansed. Hold still now, here we go,” Nanny said cheerfully as she greased the nozzle of the plunger.
Margie tried to wriggle away but she was pinned to the mat like a butterfly. The nozzle unerringly found its way to her reluctant bottom hole and slid right in and in farther still. Finally, just when Margie thought it was going to emerge from her mouth, the movement stopped.
“Wait!” Margie pleaded, but it was too late. Nanny Trinka was pressing the plunger slowly, steadily and without respite until the entire amount had been forcefully injected inside of her. Margie moaned and groaned and wriggled and cried but she was not unstrapped from the table until ten full minutes had passed. The water was cold, as cold as the ocean and it made her bowels clench fiercely. She moaned continuously through the entire terrible cleansing. Finally Nanny unstrapped her and led her to the privy.
Stefan, watching through the peephole, smiled widely as he swung the painting back against the wall. He had quite enjoyed watching that. Little Miss Margie was learning several unpleasant lessons.
Margie emerged from the privy several minutes later on shaky legs.
“Everything come out all right?” Nanny asked, holding her by the arm and leading her over to the pitcher and bowl.
Margie grimaced at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, for a little lady who has had a great deal to say, keeping your silence now seems out of character.” As Margie watched, Nanny Trinka was rubbing a wet bar of soap on to a washcloth.
“What are you doing?” Margie asked with trepidation.
“Getting ready to give you a good washing, dear.”
Margie relaxed but then stiffened again when Nanny held the soapy cloth up to her mouth.
“Open up, child. That mouth of yours needs a good soaping. You used the Lord’s name in vain, after all. That won’t be allowed around here.”
Margie tried to pull away but Nanny’s mechanical arm now had a death grip on her upper arm.
“Open your mouth, Margie or you will get the spanking of your life and then get your mouth washed out with soap.”
With tears in her eyes, Margie opened her mouth knowing that her bottom was not up to another rendezvous with Nanny’s metal arm.
“Wider, dear, there we go,” Nanny said, straining to keep a straight face. Margie looked like a most unhappy little girl. She washed the little one’s mouth, tongue and teeth with the soapy cloth and then set the cloth down and picked up the soap. She shoved the bar deep inside her mouth and turned it over and over, coating the roof of her mouth and her tongue as well as rubbing it on to her teeth.
Margie strived mightily not to gag. She tried to pull back but Nanny had moved her mechanical hand from her upper arm to the back of her neck and she could not budge.
Next, Nanny Trinka made the little one stand still for several minutes, holding the vile soap in her mouth, while she carefully cleaned all of Margie’s little nooks and crannies. Margie was being very helpful, producing tears which spilled from her eyes into her open mouth, mixing with the bar of soap which created more bubbles which cascaded down her chin and over her bare breasts, trickling to her abdomen and beyond. Finally, she allowed the naked, clean little girl to rinse her mouth and her body.
“All right, little one, it is time to dress for the day.”
Margie did not fight her at this point, exhausted from her ordeal and relieved to be getting clothing. Her compliance came to an abrupt end though as she stared open mouthed with disbelief when Nanny brought out the dress she was to wear. It was a little girl’s sailor dress!
“This is outrageous, where is my clothing!” Marjorie asked, stamping her foot. “I have no intention of dressing like that.” Before she knew it she had been lifted into the air and over her Nanny’s mechanical knee. Nanny had set her foot upon a wooden stool and pulled Margie right over. Her bare bottom was once more being whapped, this time with Nanny’s human hand. Several times the hand fell as Margie shrieked. She was once again unceremoniously set on her feet and she stood there crying, rubbing her reddened cheeks.
“We do not stamp our foot at our elders. Shows of bad temper will not be tolerated, do you understand me?”
Margie just continued to cry, rubbing her bottom and not meeting her nanny’s eyes. She tipped the crying child’s chin up to meet her eyes.
“I repeat, do we understand?” Margie nodded forlornly. Katrinka reached behind her and whacked her bare bottom, this time with her mechanical hand. “Answer me properly, young lady.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Margie shrieked.
“Very well, then. You have forfeited the right to clothing today, you will remain as you are for the rest of the day.” Margie stared at her aghast, her mouth hanging open.
“Do you have something you’d like to say about that?” Nanny asked.
Margie slowly closed her mouth and shook her head. “No. No, ma’am.”
“Very good, then. You look a little tired, dear. Why don’t you lie back down for a nap?”
She helped an exhausted Margie back into her crib and handed her a baby bottle filled with milk. Marjorie looked at her with disbelief but
gave up when Nanny raised her hand as if to give her a swat. She laid down and began to suckle on the bottle while her nanny sat next to the bed humming a German lullaby until she fell back asleep.
For the next three days, Margie’s life became all about one thing, pleasing her unappeasable nanny. She was forced to eat bland, baby food and given bottles of milk to suck on whenever she was put to bed. She was cleaned out after every meal and when she lapsed into rather colorful language, that end was cleaned as well. She was given repeated spankings and even had her little pussy spanked during one memorable chastisement. Through it all she was kept stark naked. Margie quickly learned to hop to do as her nanny wished but she still suffered occasional lapses. For a very intense seventy-two hours, her life became an endless round of enemas, mouth soapings, temperature takings and Nanny’s methodical chastisements. By the end of the third day, Marjorie’s spirit had broken. She had become six year old little Margie who thought what her nanny told her to think and did what her nanny told her to do.
And through it all, Lord Cavendish watched through the peep hole. His mouth watered at the sight of Marjorie’s beautiful body. He thrilled at watching her having her mouth washed out with soap, her eyes overflowing with tears, bubbles falling down her chin and washing over her beautiful breasts. He became deeply touched at how hard she strove to please her implacable nanny. By the end of the three days that Katrinka had asked to spend alone with her charge, little Margie was a very well chastened, well mannered little girl and judged ready to be introduced to her new master.
The morning of the fourth day, after her temperature taking and her cleansing, Marjorie laid back on the changing table as Nanny whipped some soap flakes into a fine lather in a small bowl. Margie looked at her suspiciously, this was something new.
The Science of Submission Page 5
