Properly Theirs, page 4
part #10 of Victorian Correction Series
“What does it mean?” Caroline managed to whisper. “What does it mean?”
They were passing into a grand foyer, under a coffered oak ceiling. Caroline received only the impression of polished stone and dark wood as Miss Erskine guided her toward an ornate carved staircase. The older woman answered in a strangely warm voice that made Caroline wonder if the little scene Miss Erskine had just played at the door had affected her in some manner similar to the heat with which it had visited Caroline herself.
“It means, naughty girl, that you are going to receive a very great deal of precisely what you need.”
* * *
Sarah, when she came, proved to be an experienced chambermaid, only a year or two older than Caroline herself. The blue bedroom was spacious and lovely, and when Miss Erskine left with an admonition that Caroline must be entirely naked when she returned, Caroline could almost fancy for a moment that she had simply come to stay at a great country house as an honored guest.
When she turned to the flaxen-haired girl waiting expectantly for the new arrival’s attention, however, she saw in the maid’s face knowledge of the true state of affairs that made the blood creep back into Caroline’s cheeks. What did Sarah know? More than Caroline herself did, about Mr. Rackley’s… intentions? About Miss Erskine’s terrible freedoms of speech in speaking of Caroline’s private parts? About the training that Caroline must, it seemed, undergo?
“It’s no use dawdling, miss,” Sarah said, with pity in her blue eyes. “I know it’s hard at first, but you’ll get used to being naked. Well, a little used to it, I suppose. I’m not really used to it myself.”
Caroline remembered what Miss Erskine had said about Robert’s duties at Red Meadows, and she felt her eyes go wide. “You… how… how often?” she whispered.
A troubled expression occupied Sarah’s brow, as if she tried to remember something complicated. Caroline felt as if she stood on pins and needles—indeed she shifted her weight upon her feet as if she needed to use the chamber pot, realizing to her embarrassment as she did so that she would indeed need to relieve her bladder soon. Her own brow crinkled, and she drew her lips into a tight line, doing her best to implore mercy from this servant to whom she would not have given the time of day in town. Could she ask the girl to let her use the chamber pot? Never, Caroline’s well-brought-up mind answered.
At last Sarah spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m not to, well, to tell you certain things, miss,” she said with an apology in her tone. “Mrs. Smithers said so, and… well, I suppose you can imagine what will happen if I disobey.”
To Caroline’s astonishment, the girl turned around and began to draw up her black skirt and her petticoat. What did Sarah mean to do? Caroline almost cried out to stop her, but Sarah looked back over her shoulder with such a meaningful expression in her eyes that Caroline could not utter even a squeak of protest. Her stomach felt as if it held a hornet’s nest, buzzing with anticipation and anxiety. As Sarah’s shapely young calves, knees, thighs came into view, and Caroline realized the girl wore no drawers, the place down below her belly, too, began to feel terribly strange.
Then Caroline saw the marks of the cane, purple across both Sarah’s trim bottom-cheeks, neatly laid in a row, six of them, like the furrows of a plowed field.
Caroline felt her lips part, and she drew in a sharp breath, with a little gasp. She forgot for the moment the need to make water. Somehow until that moment, when another young woman had confirmed, with this terribly improper display of her bare bottom in front of Caroline that she had suffered the terrible, unreal-seeming fate Miss Erskine had decreed for Caroline’s own bare backside, she had supposed—somewhere deep down—that it must all be a prank, or a threat never to see fulfillment.
“It hurts so much, miss,” Sarah said softly. “But being naked and… well… what men do, after…”
Caroline could see a striking ambivalence in the maid’s eyes now. Could it be that some part of this awful way of keeping order in Mr. Rackley’s country home—of, it seemed, training young women both servile and elite in some sort of naked service, over whipping blocks, to men who came down from town to… to…
Did Caroline see in Sarah’s face that she liked some part of it? The part after the whipping, the cane flashing down, the making of the terrible marks upon a girl’s young bottom?
But… what was that part?
“Wh-what do they do… the men… after?” Caroline whispered, her eyes still fixed upon Sarah’s punished hind-cheeks. Every shred of her self-command, her proper grammar, had fled away.
“I can’t tell you,” the maid said, in such a pleading tone of voice that Caroline managed to move her eyes upward again, though Sarah still held her skirts up, as if… as if she wanted Caroline to see—as if she felt something like what Caroline felt, looking at the little bottom with its evidence of some infraction terribly rewarded. Caroline knew from the maid’s tone that Sarah wanted to say, wanted Caroline to know, wanted to share an experience so mysterious that even without having any inkling of what it might be beyond the dark hints Miss Erskine had dropped into her mind, the thought of it made her insides churn and the place further down feel so very strange.
“Can you say anything at all?” Caroline begged. “Do the men… or, rather… who are the men?”
Sarah frowned, and she let her skirts drop. “You must get undressed, miss. If I whisper to you about them, as I undress you, will you let me? If you are not naked when Miss Erskine returns, I shall be whipped, too.”
This bargain seemed to Caroline both horrid and terribly attractive. Something in the thought of Sarah helping her remove her gown, her corset, her petticoats, while telling softly of the strangeness of life at Red Meadows, made the ache down there grow—made the idea of Sarah looking at the wayward slit between her thighs, peeping out among the golden curls, seem irresistible despite the heat it brought to Caroline’s face.
The maid turned again, to face Caroline, her eyes questioning. Caroline felt her brow furrow, her nose wrinkle, her mouth purse, but she gave a tiny nod, and Sarah stepped forward to begin the familiar ritual, as Caroline automatically turned her own back, now, so that the girl could commence to unlace the lovely blue silk gown. The feel of Sarah’s hands upon her back and the way the knowing fingers quickly had the gown loose enough for Caroline to step out of it seemed to have two nearly opposite effects on the debutante: she felt comforted by the accustomed sensation of being undressed by a careful servant and yet troubled by the way her little breasts felt, brushed in passing by Sarah’s fingers, the way the tiny nipples tingled.
The maid’s hands lingered upon Caroline’s hips, then, before moving to her stays, and both the comfort and the trouble grew at the unexpected familiarity. Again her bladder became an urgent need, the pressure there making the blood rush in shame to her cheeks. Caroline almost confessed the need, but then Sarah spoke again and drove the thought away.
“There are different men,” Sarah whispered in Caroline’s ear. “Mr. Rackley… he gives us to his friends after we are whipped.”
“Gives?” Caroline murmured. What could it mean?
“The men…” Now the maid’s voice dropped so low Caroline could scarcely hear it. “They call it fucking. They fuck our cunnies and our bottoms. Miss Erskine, too, with her… with a thing she wears around her waist.”
Caroline swallowed hard. Her knees felt very wobbly. The word… fucking… it sounded so harsh, and violent… and yet she still had no idea what it might mean but the way Sarah spoke of it made her feel that as frightening as it might be, to be fucked, she might still wish to undergo it.
Chapter Six
Hannah Erskine half expected that she would find Caroline still fully clothed, when she knocked at the door of the blue bedroom and entered to fetch the girl for her first whipping. When she found instead that Caroline stood in the center of the rug, trying to cover her maiden charms with her trembling hands as Sarah saw to the garments the naked girl had just removed, she smiled. Caroline’s waywardness had clearly tempered itself with some measure of common sense, at least insofar as the fear of stern bare-bottom correction could assist in helping a debutante see that obedience represented her most sensible choice.
“Take your hands away from your private places this instant, Caroline,” Hannah said. “You have forfeited your right to cover them, and the servants gathered to witness your punishment expect to see all the prettiness you have to offer the men who will master you.”
Tears welled up in the girl’s blue eyes, but the blush upon her cheeks made perfectly plain to Hannah how very deeply the operation of erotic submission had taken hold in her mind—and between her thighs. The time had come to verify that, however, both for Hannah’s own pleasure and to ascertain—as she knew Mr. Rackley would wish her to do—that Miss Caroline Montgomery’s training proceeded along productive lines.
Caroline looked back at her, beseeching, right arm still across her little breasts, left hand still in front of her young cunt. She shifted a little from foot to foot, and Hannah could tell the girl needed to make water, and she resolved that Caroline would—but not in the chamber pot.
“Sarah,” Hannah said to the chambermaid who had just finished putting Caroline’s linen away in the press that stood in the corner of the room, “please remove miss’s hands from her charms and hold them behind her.”
Caroline whirled to face the maid, hands still in place, clutching more desperately now. Hannah took two steps forward and grasped the girl by the shoulders, making Caroline cry out and tense against the older woman’s touch, as her face turned now to look into Hannah’s. On the other side Sarah advanced, a rather sorrowful look in her eyes as if at having to assist in the mastering of a fellow young woman about to have her first naked discipline in front of the household. The maids at Red Meadows, all carefully selected for their submissive need to serve the lusts of men—the same need possessed by Miss Caroline Montgomery—knew though that their own bottoms would quickly suffer for any disobedience, and in ways that went well beyond what Caroline would experience today in the parlor.
“Be a good girl, now, miss,” Sarah said. “Turn around and let me hold your hands behind your back. Ma’am doesn’t mean you any harm.”
Caroline turned again to the maid, and Hannah saw the uncertainty come into her eyes that showed the truth of her submission—the dawning idea that what would have seemed to her harm, if she had heard of it on the train down from London that morning, might have in it precisely that for which her waywardness in school, and then in her brief stay in town, had called out.
“How?” she gasped. “What can that… mean?”
“You will learn what it means soon enough, Caroline,” Hannah said with great severity. “For now you must merely learn to obey me. Do as Sarah advises. Turn to face me, and let me inspect your pretty body, just as you wished to inspect it yourself, so naughtily, when you believed me the censorious Miss Mildred Rackley. It will soon be time for men to inspect you thus, and I assure you they will not touch as gently as I shall.”
Caroline drew a sharp breath. “Touch?” she whispered. Her whole body trembled as she stood between Hannah and Sarah, the dark-haired woman still holding her around her shoulders, but gently urging her with only the smallest amount of force to turn around so that the maid could do the task assigned to her, and hold the girl’s hands out of the way. The furrow in Caroline’s brow suggested that her bladder’s urgency had increased, but of course she would not allow herself to plead for the chamber pot—nor, of course, would Hannah grant her the opportunity to use it, for she meant Miss Caroline Montgomery to make her pee in a much more shameful way.
“Yes, Caroline,” Hannah said, making her voice less stern as she saw in the debutante’s lovely blue eyes the rising of the same desire Hannah had observed in Mr. Rackley’s London house, when she had discovered her standing before the glass with her night rail up around her waist and her pretty cunt on display. “Sarah knows. Don’t you, Sarah?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the maid said obediently. “Ma’am touches much gentler than the men do.”
A shudder went through Caroline, and her eyes widened even further. Hannah could see that the girl had begun to experience the strange sensation the older woman knew so well—of observing oneself from somewhere else, of feeling the new pleasure of submission without knowing why it should feel so pleasant. With only a modicum of additional pressure, Hannah got the girl turning round, her little white hands beginning to fall from her lovely breasts and gold-thatched cunt even before Sarah reached for them, to hold the wrists gently, draw them to the small of Caroline’s back—just as Hannah had herself done for the maid, she remembered, the day last spring upon which Mr. Rackley had fucked Sarah for the first time.
Hannah released Caroline’s shoulders and took a step back, so that she could regard the girl’s naked beauty. Mr. Rackley, the Earl of Hobberly, Captain Rather, and Robert the coachman had, Hannah could see, a very enticing prospect in the month of disciplinary service envisioned by Caroline’s guardian and his noble friend. That Hannah, at the earl’s unusual request, would be a member of the company, and have her own regular turns as one of Caroline’s ‘husbands,’ made the older woman’s own cunt ache, and clench deliciously as she inspected the places she would enjoy with the same freedom she used when taking her pleasure with Sarah and the other maids. Hannah had never been allowed to train a high-born girl before—even a bastard daughter like Caroline. The thought of having Miss Caroline Montgomery bent over with Hannah’s ivory phallus in her bottom made a wicked joy fill the breast of the dark-haired self-confessed libertiness.
She fixed her eyes as theatrically as she could upon the tender triangle where a tangle of flaxen curls covered Caroline’s pretty cunt. Knowing the girl must be watching with growing need, of a sort she had barely yet begun to understand, Hannah held that view, enjoying the sight of the coral inner lips saucily making themselves just visible between the demure, pale outer ones, until she heard Caroline give a little whimper. Then the older woman lifted her eyes to meet Caroline’s gaze.
“We shall have to remove the hair from your cunt this evening, Caroline,” she said softly.
The girl drew a gasping breath at the shameful news, and her shoulders moved a very little, as if she meant to struggle against Hannah’s declaration and against Sarah’s grip behind her, upon her wrists. Hannah looked steadily into Caroline’s eyes, then, and slowly put out her right hand, low down, the palm turned up, the fingers crooked very slightly upward, so that Caroline could have no doubt what would soon occur. The golden-haired girl’s gaze moved downward, and her eyes went wide at the sight of her new mistress’ moving hand, the certain knowledge that Hannah would touch her maiden cunt and begin to teach Caroline a new sort of lesson—the first in a curriculum of sexual training the girl must make up her mind to learn thoroughly, or find her sweet young bottom whipped pitilessly until she did.
“Why?” the girl breathed, as Hannah’s fingers came within an inch, half an inch, a hair’s breadth.
The older woman did not answer with words, at first: she felt the delicious tickle of Caroline’s soon-to-be removed cunny hair, and she used her two middle fingers to press upon the place where the girl’s clitoris lay so modestly hidden, and rub tenderly, once, and then much more firmly. Caroline cried out and started away, but Sarah held her in place.
“Because the men and I desire you bare down here,” Hannah said in a stern voice, still looking into the girl’s frightened eyes, which she had returned to her mistress’ face with a pleading expression, as if beseeching Hannah to tell her how it could feel so good even as she begged for it to stop. “And we will have you just as we want you, so that the Earl of Hobberly may testify to the Duke of Essing that you have been punished as you deserve.”
Caroline whimpered as Hannah moved her fingers downward and inward, probing the virgin slit that so many men would soon open upon their thrusting cocks, and Hannah herself would train with her favorite toys—the belted ivory one above all, spanking Miss Caroline Montgomery over her knee until the girl begged for the huge, hard dildo in her cunt.
“You are very wet here, Caroline,” Hannah whispered in the debutante’s ear leaning in as she made Caroline cry out with the rough, exploring caress. “You are a wayward young lady, but here you will learn to give pleasure with this naughty cunt, and with your mouth and your bottom, and your whorishness will make you more enjoyable for those who use your body as they choose.”
She withdrew her hand, and Caroline made a forlorn, submissive little noise. Hannah fetched her pocket handkerchief out and cleaned the girl’s cunt liquor from her fingers with it quite theatrically before Caroline’s wide eyes. Hannah held the damp handkerchief to her nose and inhaled, smiling. She held it out to Caroline’s face, rubbed the moistened part against the girl’s nose as Caroline shook her head slowly, holding her breath. Again she shifted her weight, trying as she refused the aroma of her private part to press back the urgent need of her bladder.
“Smell this, Caroline. This instant. You must grow very used to the scent, and soon the taste, of cunt.”
With her left hand, Hannah reached for the girl’s right breast, took the tiny nipple between her thumb and middle finger, and twisted.
“Ah! Please… Miss Erskine…” The pace of her head’s shaking increased, and she looked at Hannah with wild eyes.
“You shall call me ma’am, now, Caroline. And you shall smell my handkerchief.”
The debutante sobbed, and inhaled through her nose, her face crimsoning with shame and with the painful pleasure her mistress gave.
Hannah spoke abruptly to Sarah. “Bring miss down to the parlor, Sarah, and strap her to the block. Robert and the footmen will help you if miss resists.”
Then Caroline seemed to realize that if she did not speak up, she would not be allowed to use the chamber pot before her whipping, and her eyes went very wide. “I…” she whispered. “I must…”
