Experiences of a Country Girl

CHAPTER 7: DOMESTIC CORRECTION-A WHITE SLAVE GIRL CHASTISED

Mr. Raleigh was blandly forgetful of what shameful things he had done to me those first two nights. Again he resumed his congenial though condescending manner toward me, and saying only that my overwrought nerves at being alone in a new home away from my parents must have a chance to quiet down with rest, he left me to my own resources all that next day and the day after, much to my relieved surprise. But I was to discover that this was his way of restoring my outraged modesty to me-a girl who had never been taken by a strange man who bought her as a slave and used her as I had been, both naturally and… and in the manner of one of the farm animals. For I was still horrified with the degradation and shame at this act he had committed on my helpless body after using the cruel martinet on my poor bottom. And it also let my whipped flesh resume its natural smooth unblemished white condition. In this, he was a master of cruelty and humiliation, as I found in other ways I mean to relate.

Two afternoons after my visit to the woods and the atrocious events that followed, as I have just described, I was in my room. Mr. Raleigh wished me to continue my schooling, as he put it, so he might be proud of me, and had lent me several books of history, civics, and good novels from his large library in the den. The two servant girls had been very nice to me, and I was shocked to think they had, long before he knew me, come to stay with a man who would abuse and whip them for no good reason.

Selena had been with me alone for a few minutes and I had asked her. She glanced about and whispered she wasn't really allowed to talk to me about herself or Rosa, but if I promised never to tell, she would, and of course I did. She then said that she and Rosa had been engaged by Mr. Raleigh two years ago as maids from an agency. Neither of them had any close relatives, and the wages he offered were so much higher than they could hope to get as domestics or field workers- which, I suppose because they were so pretty and had had a fair education in schools, they considered themselves above-that they decided to work for him.

Selena, not without flushing and averting her eyes a little, told me that about ten days after they had come to work for him, he found occasion to reprove her for a badly prepared dinner, and told her that in his service mistakes and disobedience were punished with a spanking. She protested, shocked at this, but he said that if she and Rosa refused to abide by his ways, they would be discharged without reference and he had his ways of seeing to it that they found it impossible to get decent work in the area. So poor Selena hesitantly agreed to accept the unusual and stringent punishment.

Each girl had a bedroom in the house. He had lived then in the city, about a hundred fifty miles away, before coming out to buy the farm next to my parents. He made Selena go to her room, bring her hairbrush, and put herself across his lap. For the first time, he explained, he was being generous by spanking her over her clothes, but the next time he would spank her on her bare skin. Selena, terribly embarrassed at this intimate and shameful situation, resolved never to incur his displeasure after this first correction, which she told me had been quite prolonged, about fifty hard spanks till she was crying and begging him to stop, swearing she would never do anything to offend him again.

A week later, it was Rosa who experienced her first spanking for having forgotten to send his best suit to the cleaners. Rosa, being older, at first tearfully and shamefacedly refused to submit to this juvenile sort of discipline, but when confronted with the alternative, at last grudgingly assented. But, sensing her rebellion, the shrewd Mr. Raleigh proposed to her that either she prepared herself-by which he meant taking down her panties and turning up her dress and slip and getting over his lap after handing him the hairbrush-or she would be discharged for insubordination. In tears, Rosa finally agreed, and, as I had done, had to hand him the hairbrush on her knees, then rise, lifting up her skirt and slip and lowering her panties to her ankles, and get across his lap for a severe hairbrush spanking of many strokes.

A week later both girls were accused of stealing. Actually Selena had borrowed a book from his library without consulting him and let Rosa read it, and he had found it in the latter's room. Confronting both that very day, they protested against the injustice of this, swearing they had really stolen nothing, but he was firm and said they would have no references and be blacklisted. Selena and Rosa, I must confess, liked their post because the wages enabled them to buy nice clothes and pretty things and live like ladies above their station. So, after a stormy scene, they agreed to submit to a spanking.

He made them go to his den, kneel on two armchairs he drew up close together, truss up skirt and slip and lower their panties, and then he used the same leather strap on their bottoms with which he had whipped me twice already so painfully. Rosa, because she was the older and more developed… there… suffered the most from his severity. To console her, that very night he forced her to yield to him as I had been made to do that first night. As for Selena, alone with him one evening when Rosa had been sent to town on several errands, she had to submit her virginity to Mr. Raleigh after one of his usual lectures on the need for a girl's obedience and her having spoken a bit flippantly that afternoon in his presence. This lovemaking was accomplished after he had made her strip stark naked for a whipping with the strap, just as in my own case.

This was a revelation to me, for I saw at once that Mr. Raleigh had a mania for spanking and whipping girls to obtain the physical satisfaction he wanted of them, and apparently he could not make love to a girl without first reddening her naked bottom. This prospect appalled me… but what choice did I have but to submit?

That evening, at dinner, Mr. Raleigh sat across the table from me while Rosa served the meal, Selena being in the kitchen to prepare it. “Tell me, my dear,” he asked calmly as he spooned his soup, “has either of the servant girls told you anything about their being with me?” I was stunned of a sudden; if I tattled on them, I foresaw it would mean a shameful and painful whipping, perhaps for both of them, whereas if I lied and he found out, as he easily could by demanding the truth from them, I would be the one to suffer his spanking wrath. My confusion must have shown in my face, for he promptly added, “I can see they have. Come now, my dear, unless you want to go across my lap right after dinner for a good long taste of the strap, you will tell me which one of them talked to you?”

“Oh, please, M-Mr. Raleigh, d-don't make me tell,” I gasped, tears springing to my eyes.

He assumed a stern expression which made me tremble. “I am going to ask you once more who it was, Lucille, my dear,” he said, raising his voice no more than if he were asking me to pass the salt, “and if you fail to answer, you shall have the hardest spanking from me you have yet received. Now then, you know how I punish disobedience. And lying or refusing to tell me the truth I consider to be the very worst faults a girl could have. Who spoke to you?”

“Oh L–Lord… I guess… Oh, I don't want to. Please! I hate to be a tattletale and have them punished.”

“It will be you or them, for certain. Come on — be careful.”

“It… it… was S-Selena, Mr. Raleigh,” I groaned, turning red with shame at my weakness and fear of him.

“Thank you for telling me, Lucille, and it's well for your pretty bottom that you did. Very good, you may go on eating, my dear, do you feel better today?”

“Y-yes… th-thank you Mr.-Mr. R-Ral-eigh,” I stammered, lowering my eyes and feeling a terrible compassion for poor Selena.

Nothing more was said till after coffee and dessert had been served and eaten. Then Mr. Raleigh, as Rosa returned to carry away the dishes, said quietly, “Rosa, will you have Selena go to her room at once? You will come with me and Miss Lucille.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, Mr. Raleigh,” Rosa gasped, her eyes widening with fear, and she hurried off to tell Selena to go to her room.

“Oh, please don't whip her because I had to tell on her. Please, Mr. Raleigh!” I begged him, putting a hand on his wrist.

“Such sympathetic emotion does you credit, my dear, except that it's misplaced. Both the girls know very well that I don't tolerate any lapse in their service. I had specifically forbidden them to tell you anything about their relations here with me, as I dare say Selena has quite fully?”

“Oh d-dear,” I groaned, biting my lips to hide my confusion. His face grew harsh with anger.

“Again you tell me eloquently, my dear. Selena will regret her loquacity. And for you, it will be a good lesson also. Come.”

We went down the hall, as the rooms of the two maids were on the first floor of the house, and he entered Selena's room. We found her there already, fidgeting and casting imploring glances at Rosa who stood beside her, looking down at the floor and silent.

“Selena,” he said at once gravely, “you've dared to talk to Miss Lucille against my strict orders. That's the rankest disobedience, my girl, and you are going to repent it. Lucille, go bring me the martinet which I left in your dresser drawer. As for you, Selena, if you want to remain here without being discharged and forfeiting your wages for the past two weeks as well as receiving the good whipping I mean to give you anyway, you will take off everything except your shoes and stockings and kneel down humbly beside Rosa.”

I cast a tear-blurred glance at the unfortunate young and beautiful girl to beg her to forgive my betrayal of her. But, groaning softly, trembling with apprehension, she had begun to obey him. I left the room as he directed me to, and soon returned with that dreadful whip with six slim leather thongs, whose pain-giving ability I knew so well myself. I saw Selena, face covered with her hands, crying softly, kneeling stark naked except for flesh colored silk stockings with pretty flouncy red French garters and dainty black pumps, kneeling beside Rosa, who stood impassively, eyes downcast, hands clasped, not wishing to draw her master's attention on herself, understandably enough.

Selena, as I have said, was very lovely, as was Rosa in a different way. I myself was five feet, and she was about two inches taller, but slender and graceful, with lithe high-set calves and long sleek thighs, breasts upturned and formed like hard young pears. Her skin was a fascinating light color, smooth and glistening under the light of the room. Rosa was somewhat lighter, and had color in her skin. This tinge of color in the older girl rendered her more delectable to my cruel master, I have no doubt, as she would naturally feel more humiliation at being so chastised and demeaned.

Mr. Raleigh turned to me, grasped the martinet which I handed him dolefully, and then said, “Selena, before I whip you, I want to hear you admit this punishment is one you rightly deserve for disobeying a strict order of mine.”

“Y-yes M-Master.” (She had been taught, too, as I was, to employ this disgraceful humiliating title during the privacy of a spanking, and I turned a vivid scarlet at the recollection.) “I… I d-deserve a wh-whipping for disobeying your order.”

I noticed that both girls, and most particularly beautiful Rosa, spoke excellent English. This was because Mr. Raleigh, with his methodical flair for obtaining just what he desired of a girl, had made them study and read books as he was doing with me. Indeed, to call this house his “harem” was not far from wrong.

“I am glad to hear you admit it. What sort of a whipping, Selena?” he demanded.

The naked slim young girl stammered tearfully, “A-a g-good whipping on m-my b-bare behind, M-Master.”

“Precisely. Rosa, will you horse Selena on your back so I may gratify her humble request?” he then commanded.

And I saw to my astonishment, my shame at watching members of my own sex so shamed before me, Rosa turn to the sobbing naked younger girl and nod, saw Selena rise sinuously and put her arms over Rosa's rounded full shoulders, while the older girl grasped her wrists and then, bending forward, raised poor Selena off the floor, a position in which her naked bottom-firm, compact, and oval-shaped and already tensing in anguish of what was to follow-would be exposed at the proper angle to receive the blows of that dreadful whip. Nervously, still crying softly with her fear, the naked culprit turned her lovely face back around to watch as Mr. Raleigh crossed over to her left, swinging the martinet out deliberately, and took his stance.

“Oh, Master, I'm sorry I disobeyed. I didn't mean to do it. Please forgive me!” Selena sobbed as she saw him bring up the whip. Trembling, my hands at my bosom, I stood paralyzed on the spot, an unwilling yet strangely fascinated witness to this shameful scene. Would I ever be compelled to take punishment so shamefully, I asked myself? And I resolved with all my determination and fear never to give Mr. Raleigh a chance to do to me what he was doing to Selena. For when someone else watches a girl being whipped, it must be absolutely horrible.

“Don't let her fall, Rosa, or you'll take her place,” Mr. Raleigh merely remarked as, raising the six-thonged whip high in the air, he brought it down with a horrid whooshing whistle and vicious clack as the six leather bands wrapped across both Selena's tightened firm nether cheeks. The naked culprit uttered a choking cry, and rubbed her legs together, still with her face turned back, tear-stained and appealing, to her cruel master, who continued slowly and vigorously to stripe her bottom, progressively whipping her from top to the base and then back again. Knowing that I was watching, she tried to be brave, but the horrid burning smacking of the leather thongs biting into her naked bottom soon overcame the show of courage; she begged him in tears to forgive her and let her off. Her legs kicked wildly and crossed and uncrossed and her bottom plunged and twisted, so that Rosa had all she could do to maintain the girl over her back. But the threat he had made was sufficient for the older girl to keep firm hold till poor Selena had had all the whipping he intended, which was a long and severe one, for I counted to myself at least forty-five strokes. And her beautiful buttocks were welted with dark red lines that crisscrossed even more painfully. I knew that awful strap he had used on me the first never-to-be-forgotten night of my entering his home. Finally it was over, and Rosa lowered Selena who was weeping and sobbing so hard she couldn't speak. He made her kneel down and thank him for letting her off so easily and swear she would never again violate an order. Then he told her to go to bed at once after removing her shoes and stockings and dismissed Rosa, instructing her not to apply any soothing cream or salve to Selena's bottom, as she well deserved every hard stroke he had given her.

With this, he turned to me, the martinet in his hand, and said, “Lucille, it's time for a young girl to be in bed, so come along with me to your room.” My eyes on that dreadful martinet, I turned red and tears came to my eyes, because I was so terrified by what I had seen that I didn't dare disobey. Bowing my head, I left Selena's room, hearing her still sobbing as she crawled naked into bed, and he marched behind me up the stairs. My legs and bottom shrank at every step, for I thought he would flick me with the whip just as a taste of what it would be like, and I was weak and trembling with nervous reaction when I finally got to my room. Closing the door, he put the martinet back in the dresser drawer, and in my relief, I uttered a heartfelt, tremulous sigh of gratitude at my escape from it. But that was, alas, premature, for he turned to me and said, “My dear, I watched you while I was punishing Selena and it was quite obvious that you sympathized with her even though she had committed a grave disobedience.”

“B-but M-Master,” I stammered nervously, remembering to call him that whenever we were alone-he had told me that morning I might call him sir or Mr. Raleigh when we were in the house or at the table in the presence of the servants, but that Master was the title I must always use with him alone or when… when I was being spanked-“I–I did feel sorry for the poor girl, you whipped her so very hard with that dreadful leather whip… J-just-as I know she was sorry for me that night when… when you u-used it on me.” I gulped and turned red, because reference to that episode reminded me only too shamefully of the disgusting, cruel thing he had done to me after whipping me.

He chuckled seeing me droop my head now and turn red and he replied, “I understand your tender sentiments, my dear, but I heartily disapprove of them. When a girl has been naughty and is being whipped, it is only what she deserves. To show open sympathy implies that the one who is correcting her is at fault, and for that, my dear Lucille, you are going to be punished now.”

“Oh, Master,” I exclaimed in feverish anxiety. “Honestly, I didn't think that, not at all. It was only-it-it hurt her so very much and I–I c-can't stand pain or-or see others having to endure it.”

“In that case, as you are my ward and I am bound morally to correct any bad tendency on your part, you will know then that when I am whipping you as I intend tonight, it will be to see that in the future, if you happen to observe Rosa or Selena being punished, you won't make a show of those feelings. Besides, it's reason enough for you to have been given an order. You know what happens when you don't obey it at once, Lucille. Now take off everything but your shoes and stockings and by-the-by, one of these days I must drive into town and get some new clothes for you. You haven't much of a wardrobe, and I like to see a lovely girl dressed in clothes that set her off at her best. But that sort of talk is in the nature of a reward, and you surely deserve anything else but that, so let me see you begin to undress at once.”

There was no help for it. Miserably, I started to take off my dress and then my slip, trembling and wondering what instrument he was going to use on my poor bottom this time. At least, I thought with some consolation, he had put away that terrible leather whip. Blushing again with shame, for I was unable to view calmly the idea of being naked before this strange and relentless man who had bought me as a slave from my parents, I managed to remove my brassiere and then hesitantly slipped down my step-ins, stepped out of them, bent to put them with the rest of my clothes on a straight-backed chair, and waited, arms at my side, head bowed, biting my lips to keep back any pleas for mercy which I felt, but knew would only add to his anger with me to utter. He seated himself in the armchair as he had before when he punished me, and said, “Put yourself across my lap, Lucille, by yourself. I expect you by this time to be submissive and to know exactly what I require in the way of obedience. I trust I shan't have to employ sterner measures as I did at first.”

“Oh, no. I–I'll do everything you order, M-Master,” I stammered as I made my way to him. And I had, of my own accord, to lie down across his knees, which somehow this time felt more shameful and humiliating than when he turned me across his lap as he had previously done. For it seemed I was actively preparing myself for this intense and painful humiliation.

I gripped the legs of the chair with my hands as I bowed my head and waited, trembling and with closed eyes, for the spanking, but he did not at once begin. Instead, he passed both hands over the cheeks of my bottom quite slowly, pressing, patting, and caressing my naked flesh till I was in an agony of outraged modesty and embarrassment. Then he said at last, “Hm, your lovely bottom is almost itself again, my dear. There are a few faint lines from the martinet which I used on those plump cheeks of yours Wednesday night, but aside from that your backside has that charming soft white color I enjoyed turning to a good spanking red. This time, since your fault was one I can tolerantly understand and hadn't warned you about before I am not going to use the martinet on your behind, but you are going to get a sound spanking just the same, partly to make you continue to remember that you must always be humbly submissive and never repeat a mistake I have once corrected you for. Then too, as I have not yet given you a real spanking, which is with the hand, I am going to start your punishment with a thorough manual correction. And now that you have exchanged views with the servants, I imagine you will be even more careful than in the past about letting them hear your cries. Are you ready for your spanking, Lucille?”

“Y-yes M-Master… I–I'm terribly sorry I–I did wrong.” I tried to soften him so he wouldn't spank too hard, because even if my bottom wasn't discolored any more after the other two nights, I knew it was still very sensitive and tender.

“That's the proper attitude, my dear,” he approved, gliding his palms over my shivering and contracting naked bottom, “but I find it more sincere and convincing if a naughty little girl is having her lovely backside spanked at the same time she is thinking it. So now you may prepare yourself for the first part of your punishment tonight, Lucille.”

With this, curving his left arm around my bare waist, a precaution he had not taken before, probably because, as he had said, he wanted to see if I showed absolute submission by staying in position, he brought his other hand down hard on one of my bare upturned cheeks with a loud and stinging smack. The shame of this and the reaction on my nerves from these first days in his power and the recent scene with the servant girls must have tautened my nerves a good deal, for I burst into tears at once.

“I had no idea your naughty behind was so sensitive as that, my dear,” he chided me mockingly as he patted the cheek he had just spanked, tightening his other arm around my naked waist. “I am afraid in that case you will have plenty of reason to cry during your chastisement, and you must not think that you will beg yourself off by doing so. Or perhaps I had better tie you. If you are going to cry at the very first spank, you may find it difficult to stay in position before I finish.”

This calm threat utterly terrified me, and, looking back up at him with tear-stained face, I gasped, “Oh, Master, please don't tie me up. I'll not beg off, I promise I won't. Please don't tie me.”

“Then you'll remain in position through the good sound spanking I am going to give your naked backside, Lucille?” he asked, again patting my bottom at the place he had first smacked.

It was fearfully embarrassing to have to carry on such a humiliating conversation while lying naked across a man's lap about to be spanked and already stinging with a foretaste of what I was going to get. But I couldn't risk making him angry, and so I stammered, “Yes, I will, Master. It-it-it's only that seeing you… seeing you whip Selena frightened me so and… and my b-bottom is still awfully uncomfortable from… from the other time.”

“I thought as much. Then perhaps, seeing how sensitive your flesh is, my dear, you'll take particular care not to make me whip you too often. Because if I have to punish you too frequently, I can only think that you are naturally disobedient, which would mean severe discipline. Now get ready, Lucille, and remember to stay in position.”

“Y-yes M-Master.”

I gasped faintly as I turned my face around again and closed my eyes, crossing my ankles one over the other and waiting miserably for the stinging hail of blows to visit my shrinking bottom. There was something else that was making me feel even more ashamed of getting this spanking than any he had given me before and that was that, although I was naked across his lap, I wore shoes and stockings, something which I can't quite explain, made me feel more shamefully displayed than if I had been all bare.

He began to spank me rather slowly now, keeping his left arm tight round my waist, first smacking one cheek, then the other. This time, though, he didn't scold and lecture me as he had done the previous times, which rather surprised me. But the spanking was not less mild because of that. Though the regularity of the blows on first one cheek of my bottom and then the other enabled me to prepare myself for the next to come, still the vigor of his hand and the long pauses between spanks became very painful to me, and I was crying softly by the time he had reached twenty, crossing and uncrossing my ankles restlessly, huddling my bottom and trying to diminish the area of naked tender reddening flesh so helplessly and shamefully upturned to him. I held onto the legs of the chair with my hands and kept my eyes closed. I was somehow relieved at being able to do this and know he wasn't looking at my face to see if I was crying. Mr. Raleigh stopped a little while and ran his hand over the cheeks of my bare bottom while I squirmed with shame and the increasing heat in my seat, controlling my sobs so as not to offend him and to show him humbly I was being docile and submissive just as he wanted. His hand seemed to quiver as it stroked my bottom, and I was nervous because of his strange new behavior, wondering what new torture it portended for me. At last he said in a hoarse voice, “Your bottom is getting quite red, my dear, but you needn't think I've finished punishing it by any means. Does it hurt by now?”

“Y-yes M-Master,” I murmured, dying of shame to have to answer such embarrassing and humiliating questions.

“As much as when I used the strap on your plump backside, my dear?”

His hand kept moving back and forth along my trembling bare behind, and, knowing I had to answer him no matter how much my modesty or pride suffered, I stammered in a low voice, “N-no M-Master… not as much as then. But your hand s-stings a lot.”

“Good, then the correction is effective. I had asked myself whether using just the hand on such a plump pretty backside as yours, so firm and solid, my dear, would make itself felt enough so you would know you are being punished. Tell me, Lucille, did your parents ever spank you with just their hands as I am doing now?”

“Wh-when I was a little g-girl, yes M-Master.” Oh, wouldn't he please finish it, I was dying to beg him. This was so humiliating that tears stung my eyes and I huddled my legs together and tensed myself, while his hand kept going back and forth, slowly, oh, so slowly, over my tingling naked flesh.

“When did they start to use the switch or strap, Lucille?”

“I… wh-when I–I… think it was when I was… f-fourteen, Master.”

I was getting more and more ashamed and afraid of him because of this strange behavior. I wanted it to be over… and… and know… what he was going to do… after that.

“They never whipped you stark naked, though, Lucille?”

“Oh, n-no, Master.

That seemed to please him, for he chuckled as he patted both my cheeks again and said briskly, “Then it seems I was really the first to begin your proper disciplinary education, and explain why you are such a naughty girl, my dear. Now get your lovely backside ready, for I'm not nearly through spanking you with my hand.”

“Y-yes M-Master I–I-I'm… ready,” I groaned as I tensed my fingers on the legs of the chair and crossed my ankles again to steel myself. With this, again increasing the tight band of his left arm over my waist, he resumed spanking me, and with what seemed more harshness than before, for after four or five of these smacks, I began to cry again and my heels kicked up spasmodically every time his hard stinging palm landed on the cheeks of my furiously smarting bottom. However, he used the same regularity and time in between spanks, so I was able to grit my teeth and prepare for it, though the burning grew more and more acute as his hand tirelessly descended on my smarting reddening flesh.

“Oh, please,” I sobbed, when he had given me thus some twenty new spanks, “I'll be submissive and obey you. I won't ever feel sorry for the servants when you whip them, Master… Please don't spank me anymore tonight. My bottom's so awfully sore.”

“I have finished spanking you, Lucille,” he said with a last blow that drew a tearful cry from me, and then began to feel my bottom with the hand that had so cruelly stung my poor behind, while keeping me pinned down with his other hand. “That is, the first part of your punishment, which was to be with the hand, is over. Now you may have a choice for the first time, my dear, as a test of your docility: either you may accept the second half of your punishment immediately or wait for an hour. But in that case it will be with a switch instead of with the hairbrush I planned to use on your naughty bottom right now. Which is it to be?”

“Oh, Master, Master, you're not going to spank me anymore tonight, surely? Oh, but you've spanked me so awfully hard already, I couldn't stand anymore. Oh, please, Master, I promise faithfully not to make you angry again by talking to the servants or being sorry for them if you spank them. Only let me off this once. Oh, please, Master? You spanked me so hard, I know I couldn't stand anymore tonight.” I was crying now and restlessly rubbing one calf and ankle over the other because my poor bottom was burning me terribly, and the idea of being whipped some more with either the hairbrush or the switch seemed dreadful to me. I turned my tear-stained face back up to look at him and appeal to him.

His eyes were glowing and his face flushed as he stared back at me deliberately and replied, “I will let you off on one condition only. Do you want to know what it is, Lucille?”

“Oh yes, yes, Master. Please tell me. Oh do let me off without any more spanking,” I sobbed.

“I am going to Selena's room to talk to her and quiet her down after her whipping, Lucille. When I come back in about an hour, if you will come to my bedroom in your nightdress and nothing else, bring me the hairbrush on your knees, and ask me to pardon you by giving you just a dozen hard spanks with it on the bare backside, and after that to poke you, and ask me humbly and sweetly, I will remit the rest of the punishment I had intended to give you. Do you agree?”

I was nearly dying of humiliation, lying with my stinging, burning, reddened, naked bottom upturned and squirming over his lap while he held me down with one arm and stroked and felt my behind with the other hand, hearing him discuss the shockingly intimate terms on which he would relent in whipping me in such casual fashion. But the idea of submitting to a prolonged spanking for as many blows-I had no doubt now it would be that-with either the hairbrush or the switch, either right away to get it over with or to have to wait a terrible hour of suspense for him to come back and finish me off, put me in such a state of terror that I was ready to agree to anything else that would spare my poor bottom more suffering. So, with a sobbing groan, I stammered faintly, “Y-yes M-Master… I–I agree.”

“That's fine, my dear. I told you I had hoped some day you would be perfect. Now get up and take a shower and then lie down and wait for an hour by the clock. Then you will come to my bedroom in your nightdress and with the hairbrush and kneel down and tell me what I've just told you to say. You understand?”

“Y-yes M-Master. I–I will. P-please,” I sobbed, as I got up painfully, wincing at the furious waves of heat that seared my poor bottom and stood before him in my shameful nakedness of shoes and stockings and nothing more, my face swollen with tears. He looked me over greedily, then got up and nodded curtly.

“An hour, no more, no less, my dear. Otherwise, I shall be obliged to withdraw my generous alternative, and you'll go back over my knees for the full dose your naughty backside really deserves.” And with that he left me.

I burst into hysterical tears as a result of the nervous reaction and the pain and shame, and at last composed myself enough to take a warm shower and brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I put on my black nightdress and turned red to my throat to remember how I had worn it that other terrible night when he had strapped and whipped me… and… and… done the disgusting, cruel act that still made me shudder and feel nausea and repugnance for him and for myself too for being party to it. Then I got into bed, setting the alarm clock beside it, and tried to compose my distracted nerves. I began to wonder why he had gone to see Selena, and then I guessed with a sensation of utter horror and disgust that he had probably forced the poor girl to make love to him and that was why he had been so excited while just spanking me with his hand and wanting me to put my own sentence off for an hour.

And he would come to me from her and want me… to… to… give myself to him… after that… Oh, if my parents had only known what sort of a creature he was, perhaps they'd never have sold me into this shameful, humiliating, cruel bondage…