Experiences of a Country Girl

CHAPTER 3: HIS BEAUTIFUL SLAVE

He arose from his chair and personally unfastened my brassiere from the back, removing it and letting it fall onto my dress and slip. As my breasts were exposed to his view, my hands wanted to fly up instinctively to protect them, because nobody except my own parents had ever seen me undressed so shamefully before. But as I started the movement with a stifled sob of shame, my mother frowned at me in disapproval, and shook her head warningly. Both she and Father were anxious for me to do nothing to offend Mr. Raleigh which might spoil their chances of getting the loan. They knew as well as I that I was not being subjected to a medical examination, but merely being inspected like a slave to satisfy Mr. Raleigh that I had a perfectly formed body. I felt as alone and helpless as a slave girl must feel when she is put upon the auction block, stripped of her clothes, and sold to the highest bidder. And that thought seemed all the more true then, because I had read in history books that slave girls were made to undress under the whip… and, well, if I hadn't taken off my clothes of my own free will, Mother and Father would both have whipped me. They said as much. So I submitted to all that followed with the same resignation. I knew resistance was useless and there was no one I could appeal to for help. All I could do was remain passive and hope my submissiveness would win Mr. Raleigh's approval.

After he had removed my brassiere, he looked at my exposed charms thoroughly. He conducted the examination slowly, and leisurely, making only a slight pretense at its being medical. After he had felt the muscles of my arms and inspected the soft texture of my skin, he turned his attention to my step-ins.

“I'm afraid we shall have to take these off you, too, my dear,” he said, catching his forefinger under the elastic at the waist of them. “This is once when you will have your panties taken down when it will not be for a whipping. That is, you will not be given a whipping if you continue to be a well-behaved girl. Of course, if you aren't, then I shall have to borrow your father's strap and spank you until you are ready to behave.”

Knowing it was not an idle threat, and that Father would willingly go after the strap to whip me, and the inspection of me would go on after I had been punished anyway, I remained still as he slipped the step-ins down from my hips and let them fall to my ankles.

“Just step out of them, my dear, and lie here on my knees,” he directed.

He seated himself and gestured for me to lie face downward across his lap. Only too anxious to hide my shamed face from his gaze, I willingly assumed the ignoble pose over his knees. I was almost dying of shame and had to fight the impulse to cry, because I had nothing on before this man except my stockings, rolled at the tops over elastic garters, and my shoes. But my parents said not a word, and I knew with despair and fear as well as my supreme embarrassment that they approved whatever he did, so it was useless for me to plead my modesty.

As soon as he had me correctly posed over his knees, he gazed fascinatedly at my posteriors and then began to pinch them painfully. When he could prolong the inspection no longer, he permitted me to stand up while he praised my legs and thighs, then made me assume a variety of spanking poses: bending over and touching my ankles with my hands, kneeling on the floor with my head and shoulders bowed down, bending across his left hip when he put his arm around my waist to hold me in place, kneeling on the chair with my head in my arms against the back. And my parents didn't protest at any time, but watched, seeming to approve of his knowledge of how to spank a girl when she needed it. Each time he gave me some instructions he emphasized them with a smack on my bottom with his hand. He seemed to find it very fascinating, and smacked it as much as possible. I don't know how I kept from crying, for I was in an agony of mortification, and I tried not to look at him all through the ordeal. The examination lasted for nearly an hour, and I felt I had no physical secrets left from Mr. Raleigh by the time he finished staring at me. I cannot describe my feelings during it. At times, I was filled with a nameless terror, such as one has on waking from a nightmare. Yet I knew this was no dream from which I could awaken. Instead, I knew I was being sold by my parents. My only hope was that a display of complete submission to his orders would cause my master — for such he was-to treat me kindly…

“A very perfect young lady,” Mr. Raleigh declared at last, resting his hand possessively on my bare shoulder, and turning to my parents. “Perfect both from a medical and artistic standpoint. As an artist, I have seen many nude young ladies, but none so interesting as Lucille. I am sure I am going to enjoy being her guardian. All right, my dear, you may get dressed now,” he said to me.

Only too anxious to hide my naked body, I quickly put on my clothes. While I was doing this, he took out his checkbook and began to fill in a voucher. I couldn't help but feel that he was making out the purchase price for me.

“Shall we say a thousand dollars now, with the understanding that when more is needed you may borrow another thousand and continue in that manner till the amount reaches five thousand?” he said to Father, who nodded an eager agreement. And in that manner my sale to Mr. Raleigh was consummated.

While they were finishing this affair, Mother took me upstairs and helped me pack my clothes.

“You want to be a good girl and mind everything Mr. Raleigh tells you, Lucille,” she said to me. “He is being very good to us, and you must show your gratitude by being always obedient to him. Remember, he has your father's permission and mine too, to whip you, and if you are so ungrateful for what he has done for us as to disobey him, I hope he whips the behind off you.” With that sympathetic parting, I was turned unconditionally over to Mr. Raleigh as his “ward.”

He took me to his home that very night. It was eleven o'clock, which is quite late in the rural district, and all the servants at his home had retired. He showed me to a bedroom that had a door communicating into his. It was nicely furnished, but I hardly noticed that. I was frightened. Mr. Raleigh spoke very pleasantly to me, even using terms of endearment, yet still I was frightened.

And I had reasons to be, because after he had carried my luggage into the room, he went into his own bedroom and came back with a strap. “Lucille,” he said, seating himself on a chair, “you have a peculiar appeal to me. Ever since I first learned that your parents whipped you, I have experienced a desire to give you one myself. And tonight, after seeing you naked, I am more anxious than ever to do it. So, since your parents approve of me doing it-as I'm sure you heard them say-I am going to whip you tonight. And I am going to do it in what I consider the most interesting manner, which is-stark naked. It will do you good, for it will let you know in advance exactly what you may expect as my ward when you are naughty. Besides, it will teach you to be submissive to me, which is something you must display at all times, no matter what your personal views may be. Now then, take off your clothes.”

As he spoke, I had an instinctive, terrified urge to flee from the house. But where? My parents had turned me over to him; I couldn't go back to them. I knew if I attempted it, they'd only whip me severely and turn me over to him again. There seemed nothing left except to obey his commands.

“Hurry,” he commanded, his voice stern as he waved the strap at me. “I'll not stand for any hesitation when you are told to get undressed or given any other order. You must learn that when I speak, you are to obey promptly, not wait till it suits your own convenience.” Trembling at the sight of the strap in his hand and knowing that it was soon to be used to give me a whipping, I removed by shoes and stockings, then my dress and slip; finally, unable to delay complete nudity any longer, I took off my brassiere and slipped down my step-ins.