“This, Roger, is the caning stool.” Lord Castlebridge announced with satisfaction, patting the polished oak surface of the intimidating item of furniture with something approaching affectionate pride. They were in the library of course; one of the largest rooms in the entire Hall, exceeded in dimensions only by the grand ballroom in the South wing. It was a cavernous, high ceilinged room, its walls filled with bookshelves, busts and portraits of the Hall’s illustrious f****y heritage. The furniture in here was solid and robust in contrast to the more ornate and fussy styles to be found elsewhere in the Hall; massive oak writing tables, desks and chairs. There was no place for frivolity in this great chamber. It was a room dedicated to serious and sombre study and education. It served as the private schoolroom for the generations of the Hall’s c***dren and study chamber for its adults. All the Hall’s archives and f****y records were kept in here and all significant events were soberly recorded into the massive tomes which served as the living history of Castlebridge Hall.
It was natural therefore that such a serious and imposing chamber would have become the room in which the disciplinary requirements of the Hall were conducted. Disciplinary inquiries or hearings were carried out at a massive long table big enough to accommodate a committee of senior staff members or representatives of the Hall’s dynasty facing a solitary chair upon which generations of miscreants had seated themselves to face the charges against them and answer for their behaviour. Many a deliberation had been performed at that table and many a trembling culprit ordered to stand to hear the resultant verdict and have sentence passed upon them.
Not only would the cowering delinquent hear their fate in that chamber but it would also be the place where traditionally their sentence was executed. To this end the library was also well equipped to carry out the punishments deemed appropriate to the crimes of the wrong-doers unfortunate to face the penalties for their misdeeds in that intimidating chamber. In a clear space at one end of the enormous room, often threatened but seldom used, was the whipping stand; the chains from the ceiling ending in solid leather cuffs to secure the wrists and stretch up the arms of anybody whose misdeeds were of sufficient seriousness to warrant the use of the long whip across their wretched body.
At the far end of the room was the birching post: the short stake rising from a raised dais to which the guilty would be firmly affixed in a kneeling position to receive a birching. The birching post had somewhat fallen into disfavour in recent times in the Hall’s armoury of disciplinary measures but the good sound birching of Charlotte Carlton and her three cohorts in idle negligence had once again established a precedent for the use of this highly efficacious means of correction. It was now a firm opinion of Lord Castlebridge and his butler, Thomas Greenwood, that the public birching of the four young ladies had had such an admirably immediate effect upon the raising of standards of diligent hard work since, that the birching post had justified its more regular employment for the maintenance of those standards.
Holding pride of place in the centre of the chamber however was the most commonly used item of disciplinary furniture; the caning stool, to which His Lordship now directed Roger Brideshead’s attention. Roger stood and stared at the stern and solid artefact in fascination. It was clearly venerable and, judging by its smooth worn surface, it must have seen much usage down the long years of its history. It was a massive frame built of solid oak timber and bolted securely to the wooden parquet of the library floor. The broad leather strap with its buckles lying across the concave surface of the stool looked ancient but well maintained as did the shorter straps attached to the four solid legs of the stool. Bizarrely Roger wondered whose responsibility in the Hall it was to regularly come into this chamber to oil the straps and polish the brass buckles on this forbidding item of the household’s furniture. In his mind’s eye Roger envisaged the generations of penitents who must have found themselves strapped down to this awful apparatus for failing to live up to the exacting standards of this ancient house and its revered traditions.
Almost as if reading his thoughts Lord Castlebridge patted the stool once more and continued. “Yes Roger the caning stool! It has a long history in this house. You might say that the character and backbone of our f****y heritage were forged and built on the foundations of this single heirloom of our past. The first Lord of Castlebridge had this constructed and installed in here shortly after the acquisition of the Hall back in the s*******nth century. It has been a perpetual rock of f****y tradition ever since. Newer, more up to date, disciplinary measures have had their vogue at various times over the centuries but the old caning stool has remained a constant; an unwavering reminder to all within these walls of the duties and responsibilities expected of all those who live and serve under this roof and the consequences of failing to do so. This is the stone upon which this house is built!”
Roger tore his eyes away from the stool for a second to glance at his wife. She was cowering against the wall of the library; her face white with fear and her lips trembling, the significance of Lord Castlebridge’s words not lost on her, and staring in mesmerised horror at the object His Lordship was so proudly displaying. Lady Castlebridge had an arm around Brenda’s shoulder in sympathetic comfort while the two young maids of Her Ladyship stood in pale faced attendance. Greenwood stood austerely to one side bearing a silver tray upon which resided the cognac decanter. Presumably he had felt that the gentlemen would require some fortifying refreshment whilst obliged to attend to the disagreeable duty that was so obviously now in the offing.
Roger dragged his attention back to Lord Castlebridge. “Really sir?” he mumbled hastily. “That... that sounds very interesting.”
Lord Castlebridge nodded sagely. “Yes Roger; a proud old tradition of my f****y. The caning stool is no mere antiquity however: no curiosity from the mists of time. It, and the other disciplinary items you see in this room, are still regularly employed to correct misbehaviour within this house and to serve as a constant deterrent to the misconduct of all who reside here. Nor is its usage confined to the staff and servants of this house. Members of the f****y are expected to live up to the same standards of behaviour and responsibility imposed upon those within the f****y employ and, if they fail to do so, can expect to make the acquaintance of this stool in their turn.”
Lord Castlebridge paused to sip at his cognac. “Indeed Roger I would have it no other way. Members of the f****y have, after all, a duty to set an example of conduct worthy of this house to the lower members of the house and should they be found lacking in that duty it is only fitting that they be seen to endure the same consequences which even the lowliest minion in service can expect.” Lord Castlebridge nodded briefly in the direction of the little huddled group against the wall. “I can tell you Roger that not even my own wife is immune from such consequences. Why only this past week it was my duty to have her strapped to the stool and caned for her foolishness at Ascot last week.”
Roger was astonished by this intelligence. He glanced at Lady Castlebridge who had blushed crimson and lowered her eyes in shame. “You... you had y... your...I mean Lady Castlebridge caned?” stammered Roger in bewilderment.
Lord Castlebridge nodded gravely. “Yes indeed Roger! She foolishly squandered seven thousand pounds on the horses at damn Ascot and so I thought it best to teach her a lesson for her profligacy.”
Roger shook his head disbelievingly and reached out to finger the smooth worn leather of the waist strap on the caning stool. “And you had her strapped to... to this sir?”
Lord Castlebridge shook his head. “Not exactly Roger. As chance would have it we had workmen in the library that day so Greenwood carried out the punishment in his pantry. There’s a replica of this stool down there sufficient for the purpose.”
Roger blinked in increasing astonishment at this further information. “Are you saying that you had your butler cane Her Ladyship sir?”
“Yes that’s right Roger. Greenwood is excellent with the cane and other implements; very precise and with a firm hand. I use his talents for most of the discipline in the Hall; my strong right arm you might say.”
“You astound me My Lord!”
“Quite Roger. I tell you this though to let you understand that I demand just as exacting a code of conduct from my own wife as I expect you to impose upon yours and equally I am just as prepared to discipline her in the same way that I will require you to deal with your own wife’s misconduct.”
Roger swallowed. “I....I see sir.”
Lord Castlebridge regarded him sternly and lifted a finger in admonition. “Yes Roger and I’m bound to say that had you had an equally firm policy then the events that have brought us to this would have been very unlikely to occur. Were there a similar device to this installed in your own house, and you were prepared to use it when needed, then I have to say that it is highly improbable that we would have lost such lucrative business through your wife’s foolish indiscretion. A short sharp lesson over such a device when she first demonstrated this propensity of hers for idle foolish chatter and we would not have seen it escalate to the level of seriousness it has become. I cannot impress this upon you strongly enough. Do you take my meaning young man?”
Roger blushed but nodded humbly. “Yes sir.”
“This evening is not just intended as a lesson to your wife Roger but also as a lesson to yourself! The measures that I intend to see carried out this evening are measures that I will expect you to introduce into your own domestic arrangements and ensure that they are fully adhered to in the future. Is that perfectly clear?”
Roger nodded penitently once more. “Yes sir.”
“Excellent! Now to practicalities. Before we commence with the main business in hand I’d like to demonstrate the functioning of this stool so that you will see how it is utilised when such time arrives that you install a similar device in your own home.” Lord Castlebridge cast his eye thoughtfully over the group of women huddled together by the wall. His eye fell on the two young personal maids of his wife. He raised his finger and pointed at Suzette. “You young lady. Would you kindly step over here for a moment?”
Suzette paled in sudden fear. For a moment Roger thought her legs were going to give way beneath her. “Who me My Lord?” she whispered in shock.
“Yes you young lady! Quick as you can if you please.”
Suzette bit her lip to stifle the groan that threatened to escape from her mouth and paced forward, her legs trembling. “Yes My Lord?” she asked in a fearful whisper.
“Yes would you mount the caning stool please young lady?”
“Th... the caning st... stool My Lord?” Suzette stuttered in dread.
“That is correct! Come along young lady. I’m sure you know the correct procedure. It’s not the first time you’ve had to present yourself at the caning stool as both you and I know!” Terrified Suzette stepped up onto the box positioned at the front of the stool. “You’ll note Roger that the young lady is obliged to stand on the box placed for convenience there before bending over the stool.” Lord Castlebridge observed conversationally. “The stool is rather too high for the young ladies of the house and it is important that they position themselves so that the top of the stool is level with their hips before bending over to present themselves for the cane. Carry on please Suzette.” With a tiny whimper and with the tears pricking at her eyes Suzette leaned forward to d**** herself over the stool. Lord Castlebridge nodded in satisfaction. “Now this is the correct position for the young lady to adopt before being secured Roger. You’ll see that she is standing on tip toe to prostrate herself over the stool and her tummy is lying firmly in the indented surface of it. Now once she is secured with the straps and the box removed, her centre of gravity will be firmly in the middle of the stool and her feet clear of the floor. Now if you will assist me Roger.”
Lord Castlebridge moved to the Suzette’s side and gesturing to Roger to take up a position at the opposite side of the stool. “If you would pass me the strap over please Roger?”
“Yes sir.” Roger handed the broad leather strap over Suzette’s midriff. Lord Castlebridge passed the tip through the buckle on his side and tightened the strap firmly before fastening it securely.
“You want the waist strap to be firm and secure Roger. It shouldn’t be too tight as to squeeze the breath out of her but firm enough to hold her belly securely against the surface of the stool and to push her bottom up nicely for the cane.”
Roger was becoming interested in proceedings. The pretty little girl trembling in her fetching maid’s uniform looked so helpless and forlorn strapped down across the stool that he felt a quickening of erotic arousal at the sight. Feigning dispassionate, interest he ran a finger under the leather strap to test the firmness of the bonding. There was just enough give in the strap to wriggle a finger between it and the softness of the girl’s uniform. He could feel the warmth of her body through the thin material and felt her shiver at his touch. “I see sir. And the next step?”
“The next step is to secure her wrists with the straps on the front legs Roger. I shall fasten this side if you will attend to the one on yours. Once again make sure her wrists are firmly held but not so tight as to cut off the circulation to her hands.” Roger squatted at the front of the young girl to take her hand gently but firmly and buckle her right wrist into the strap affixed to the front leg. He glanced at her face, inches away from his. She was staring at him abjectly, her eyes wild with fear and damp with tears. He felt an almost over powering urge to reach out and stroke her face. He took a deep breath and averted his gaze.
“Now, if you’re all done on that side Roger, we next need to secure her legs.” Roger rose from his squatting position and joined Lord Castlebridge behind the girl. “Now this is the crucial and most tricky part Roger.” His Lordship warned. “You have to lift her leg away from the box and pull it over to the stool leg to fasten the strap. If she’s in the right position you’ll find that the strap fastens around her lower calf just above the knee. You’ll probably have to lift her dress slightly out of the way to facilitate passing the strap around her leg.”
Roger squatted down to follow the instructions. He pushed the hem of her dress and the frilly petticoat beneath out of the way to take hold of her leg. Suzette wore no stockings. The bare flesh of her thigh was silky and maddeningly enticing to his touch. His heart was pounding in his chest and once again he felt her shudder at the touch of his fingers on the bare skin at the back of her thighs. Slowly and deliberately he pulled her leg to the side and passed the leather strap around it, letting his hand linger a second on the warm flesh before buckling the strap. Lord Castlebridge completed preparations on the other leg and rose to survey the results. Almost reluctantly, Roger followed suit, rising to his feet trying to control his breathing.
Lord Castlebridge seemed satisfied. “There now Roger. That’s just about right. Now her legs are spread apart and her feet clear of the ground. All her weight is now on her tummy in the middle of the stool and she’s firmly held in position to receive her punishment.” Lord Castlebridge stepped forward and lifted Suzette’s dress and petticoat, to raise them above her waist and lay them across her prone back. Roger felt his mouth dry as the action exposed the entire length of the girl’s thighs and her pert rounded bottom covered only by the thin material of her lacy knickers. He thought at that moment he had never seen anything more alluring.
Lord Castlebridge however seemed more concerned with practical demonstration rather than the erotic display of the young girl’s charming nether portions. He patted Suzette lightly on the rump and Roger saw the girl flinch at the contact. “Now this is how the bottom should be presented Roger. The caning stool is used primarily for corporal punishment on the buttocks and the backs of the thighs. You can see how the girl’s bottom is admirably thrust out and firmly held in position to be caned and how her legs are held securely to apply the cane to the sensitive regions on the upper thighs as well.” Lord Castlebridge paused to finish the last drops of his cognac. “Of course, were this a formal punishment, in the ordinary course of events, this young lady would have been obliged to remove her knickers or perhaps disrobe completely before being strapped down to the stool. Canings and other punishments are most usually administered to the bare bottom in this house.” His Lordship patted Suzette’s bottom once more with an affectionate smile. “However since this is just a demonstration we will spare the young lady’s blushes!”
Roger felt almost disappointed but he could feel an almost physical wave of relief emanating from the girl over the caning stool. Her embarrassment was not to be spared entirely however for Lord Castlebridge laid his glass aside and marched around to her front. He raised her face with his fingertips under her chin and looked her in the eye. “Now Suzette you are entirely familiar with this position ate you not?”
The young maid nodded miserably. “Yes My Lord.”
“Perhaps you would care to remind us when it was the last time you found yourself over this stool.”
“Please My Lord it was in January just after New Year.”
“Yes. And what was your punishment on that occasion?”
“I... I was given fifty strokes of the cane My Lord.”
Lord Castlebridge nodded in satisfaction. “Precisely! Perhaps you would tell Mr Brideshead here for just what offence you were awarded such a severe punishment.”
Suzette blushed and seemed ready to burst into tears. “Please sir it was for d***kenness sir.” she murmured abjectly.
His Lordship nodded once more. “Yes Roger. This little madam drank herself silly on New Year’s Eve and made a complete disgrace of herself. She wasn’t alone in this.” His Lordship nodded at Maria who was currently trying unsuccessfully to blend into the woodwork. “That young lady there was also guilty although her behaviour was not quite as disgraceful as this one’s and I believe she received a lesser sentence.” Lord Castlebridge paused thoughtfully. “Ordinarily, given the festive nature of the season, I might have been inclined to be lenient with alcoholic over indulgence had it been an isolated case. Sadly that was not the case however. There had been a number of occasions when this young lady and, to a lesser extent, her colleague had, I’m afraid to say, displayed behaviour of this nature. I was becoming concerned about it Roger and had the occasion to discuss the matter with my wife two or three times since these young ladies are her personal maids. I hate to see young lives ruined by alcohol dependency so, when there was a repetition on New Year’s Eve, I decided to act and had the pair of them marched in here for a flogging!”
Lord Castlebridge turned his attention back to the unhappy Suzette. “So young lady! You received fifty strokes. Did it teach you a lesson?”
Suzette nodded hastily. “Y... yes My Lord.”
“And have you been drinking since?”
Suzette shook her head vigorously. “No My Lord! I haven’t touched a drop!”
Lord Castlebridge tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels in satisfaction. “I rest my case Roger! There you have it in a nutshell! That was, what, six months ago? Here was a young lady on the slippery slope to d***ken wastage; a possible young life ruined by the temptations of the bottle and what is the solution? Why a few minutes labour with the cane for Greenwood and six months later a reformed young lady and not a drop has passed her lips since: simple, effective and to the point!”
Roger conceded the point. “Yes sir.”
“And that Roger is what you should have done when your own wife’s tipsy flirting first led her into dangerous indiscretions. Had you acted firmly with her even six months ago we would not find ourselves in the situation we are in now.”
A look of stern resolution crossed Lord Castlebridge’s face. “Well hopefully Roger it is not too late to make amends and correct matters.” He turned to the other of Her Ladyship’s personal maids. “Maria would you step over here a moment?”
The young girl complied nervously. “Yes My Lord?”
“I might as well say this whilst you are both present. I’ve been generally pleased with your behaviour this year since you were both caned and my wife seems satisfied with your service. However I have noticed a tendency of late for the pair of you to be somewhat over familiar with both myself and my wife. I don’t want the pair of you to feel that because you are obliged to attend to Her Ladyship’s intimate personal needs that it permits you such a degree of familiarity.”
Lady Castlebridge froze her face into a mask at these words. This was dangerous territory. She was fairly certain that her pompous husband had no inkling as yet of the extent of her “personal needs” but she made a mental note to exercise more caution in future and counsel her two maids to do the same.
“I want you two young ladies to remember your place.” His Lordship continued. “Now I’m not going to have you caned on this occasion.” There was an audible gasp of relief from, Suzette still firmly secured to the caning stool with her dress above her waist. Lord Castlebridge ignored it and expounded further. “I do however serve you both due warning. I expect to see a little more deference and respect in future or you will both be renewing your acquaintance with this item of furniture. Do I make myself plain?”
“Yes My Lord.” the two girls intoned in unison.
“Excellent! Now Maria you may release your companion.” Lord Castlebridge turned to his butler. “Oh Greenwood I wonder if you’d be so good as to refresh Mr Brideshead’s and my glasses for us.”
“Very good My Lord.”
“Capital. Now Roger if you’ll step over here I’d like to show you the tools we use for the job.” His Lordship took Roger’s arm and led him to a cupboard set in the wall. He flung the doors open to reveal an intimidating array of disciplinary instruments hanging from hooks within. Lord Castlebridge reached out to finger the items on display. “Now these are the canes we use Roger. You’ll see that they are all around four to five feet long. I’m a strong believer in long canes. I think you get a much better swing and subsequently firmer impact with a longer cane. You’ll also note that they are not too thin. I can’t be doing with thin canes. They sting somewhat it is true but they don’t have the weight to strike with real authority. I don’t advocate very thick canes either however because they don’t have the same bite. A good cane should be a compromise between a concentrated striking area and sufficient weight to deliver the stroke firmly within that area. I find around quarter of an inch or a little over half a centimetre thick to be ideal.”
Green wood was at their side. “Your drinks My Lord.”
“Ah thank you Greenwood.” Lord Castlebridge took his cognac before continuing. “You’ll see that we use other implements than the cane as well Roger. The leather straps and tawses here are generally for lesser punishments and the whips you see are for very serious offences apart from those multi thonged affairs which are called martinets. We use those for lighter whippings on the bottom, bare back or other parts of the anatomy.”
“You mentioned a birching post earlier sir. Do you not keep the birches in this cupboard?”
Lord Castlebridge sipped at his cognac and shook his head. “No Roger. We’ve only just reintroduced birching for serious offences but there is a certain long tradition concerning the birch in our f****y that stretches back generations. A person who is to be birched is obliged to walk down to the woods on the estate and cut the birch twigs themselves and bind them together to fashion the birch switch to be used on them. It was formerly conceived as a way to emphasise the person’s acknowledgement of their guilt by making them contribute to the process of their own punishment. I see no reason to change a tried and trusted old method and so we stick to the old tradition. Fearful anticipation of one’s forthcoming punishment is after all part and parcel of the whole disciplinary process and anyone who has to walk down to the woods to make their own birch switch will have plenty of time to reflect upon their misconduct and dread the consequences of it.”
“I see sir. Yes I can understand how that would reinf***e the message somewhat.”
“Exactly. Anyway enough of the lecture for the time being. I think it’s about time to turn to the business in hand.”
Lord Castlebridge turned back to the caning stool, now divested of Suzette’s prostrate form through the ministrations of Maria. Suzette was now back against the wall alongside her mistress, smoothing out the creases in her dress and looking thoroughly relieved. She had been sure that she was for the cane. Brenda however was looking anything but comforted. His Lordship’s words concerning the beneficent advantages of allowing the culprit time to reflect upon the ordeal awaiting them would have struck a chord of recognition in the young woman whose fear was rising by the second.
Lord Castlebridge fixed her with a look of grim reproach that brooked no protest. “Brenda! Would you oblige me by stepping into the centre of the room please?”
In mounting trepidation Brenda stepped forward although it seemed to her as if her legs were not working properly and threatening to give way beneath her. She came to a halt a few feet from His Lordship and stood there clasping her hands in agitation and her face white with foreboding. There was a pause for several seconds as Lord Castlebridge regarded her sternly. “Well,” he said at last, “I think you know by now why you’re here young lady and what is in store for you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Brenda’s vocal chords seemed to be suffering a similar malady of malfunction as her legs and for several seconds she tried desperately to articulate. When she at last found voice it was only to murmur a feeble apology. Lord Castlebridge was not impressed. “I think we covered all this over the dinner table Brenda. Your apologies have been deemed insufficient to compensate for your foolishness. We agreed then, you, your husband and I that you deserved to be punished. Do you see any justification in modifying that evaluation now that you better understand the nature of the punishment awaiting you?”
Brenda’s eyes kept flicking in torment between Lord Castlebridge and the caning stool. She was gripped by a sense of dreadful unreality; as if this nightmare must be happening to somebody else. She just couldn’t believe that His Lordship truly intended to strap her to that infernal contraption and have her beaten. It had to be some terrible mistake. “Well Brenda? I am waiting. Have you lost your tongue?”
“N...no My Lord. I... I....” Brenda tailed off unable to express herself or plead for mercy.”
“I see that you have nothing to offer in mitigation therefore we will proceed. Well I’m afraid you ARE going to be punished Brenda; severely punished. You are to be taught a lesson this evening Brenda and one which I sincerely hope will stay with you for a long time to come. If you have nothing further to say I would be obliged if you prepared yourself for punishment now.”
Brenda stared at him in shock. “In...in w... what way sir?” she stammered.
“By disrobing Brenda...completely!”
Brenda stared at him in shock. “I’m sorry?”
“I said by disrobing Brenda. I require you to get undressed!”
“You... you mean... take my clothes off?”
“I do indeed young lady... all of them if you please!”
“Take all my clothes off?” Brenda squeaked disbelievingly.
Lord Castlebridge’s patience was wearing thin. “Good heavens young lady! Are my instructions so difficult to follow? Of course I mean you to remove all your clothes. You are to be punished naked! You may regard your loss of dignity and modesty as part of the penance imposed on you and a little humiliation is good for the soul I always say.”
Brenda glanced toward her husband for support but she found little sympathy there. “Do as you’re told Brenda.” he commanded her quietly but firmly.
Lord Castlebridge turned to his wife’s young maids. “Will you two girls assist Mrs Brideshead please.”
The two girls curtsied and stepped forward. “Yes My Lord.” They took up station on either side of Brenda. “We’ll hold your clothes ma-am.” Maria told her sympathetically.
“So if you please young lady.” Lord Castlebridge urged her. “I would be obliged if you complied with the orders you have been given.”
Trapped by the inevitable Brenda had run out of alternatives. She choked back a sob and, with trembling fingers, began to unbutton her blouse. The silence in the room was heavy and pregnant as she fumbled despairingly with the buttons, broken only by the soft whimpering that escaped her throat and the rustle of the fabric of her blouse. In deep humiliation she slipped her blouse from her shoulders. Suzette took the garment from her gently and folded it neatly before placing it carefully on a nearby table.
Brenda had trouble with the zip on the back of her skirt. Perhaps her fingers were trembling too hard to manipulate the awkward fastener or perhaps it was just that it became stuck. Whatever the reason, Maria was obliged to assist her, squatting down behind her to work the zipped and helping Brenda slip her skirt off her hips, down her legs and free of her ankles. Placing the folded skirt over the crook of her arm, from her position at Brenda’s feet, Maria looked up with sympathy at the frightened half naked woman. “I’d best take your shoes as well ma-am.” she told her. Brenda nodded miserably and Maria provided a comforting shoulder for her to rest a hand on to raise each of her feet in turn for the young maid to take her shoes.
Lord Castlebridge approved of Brenda’s underwear. He liked to see his ladies in attractive feminine undergarments and Brenda’s ensemble of matching bra and knickers in soft pink with white trimmings was eminently fetching on the young woman’s admirably trim body. As Maria rose to her feet clutching Brenda’s skirt and shoes he nodded to her companion. “Would you take Mrs Brideshead’s jewellery for her please Maria.”
He turned to Roger. “I usually prefer to have ladies take off their jewellery before punishment Roger.” he remarked by way of explanation. “Bangles and wristwatches get in the way when securing their wrists and I’m always cautious that necklaces may get broken or, worse yet, become entangled as they struggle in their bonds and cause choking. Also, it may be a small point, but there is always the possibility of small but valuable items of jewellery becoming detached and lost as they squirm about under the pain of their punishment. Better to be safe I always think. A lady doesn’t need her pretty little decorations while she’s having her bottom thrashed!”
“No sir.” mumbled Roger in agreement as he watched Maria divest his wife of her jewellery; her bracelet and wristwatch, her necklace, her diamond earrings and even her wedding ring. Brenda it seemed would have to take her punishment in no other adornments than those that nature had provided her with.
Yet Brenda herself seemed reluctant to accept that her total nudity was required for punishment. She stood there miserably in her underwear reluctant to shed these last wispy tokens of her modesty. Lord Castlebridge frowned at her. “And the rest if you please young lady.” he urged her firmly. With a tiny sob, Brenda reached behind to unfasten her bra. Having removed this item she clasped a hand across her breasts timidly. This made it awkward to take off her knickers with one hand and once again Suzette was obliged to aid her by squatting down to pull her knickers down her legs and clear of her feet as Brenda clasped her other hand over her sex.
Now completely naked, Brenda huddled abjectly trying to cover her modesty with her hands. This did not meet Lord Castlebridge’s approval. “Stand up straight girl!” he commanded her “And put your hands behind your head.” With a sob of pathetic dismay Brenda complied with painful slowness. Once she had assumed the required position Lord Castlebridge took the opportunity to take a long appraisal of the naked young woman. On the whole he liked what he saw. It was easy enough he knew to look attractive with a budget that allowed one to bedeck oneself in fine clothes but Brenda was splendid looking young lady with her clothes off as well. She was slim yet with perfectly proportioned curves, pert firm breasts and buttocks, long slender legs and her glorious long dark wavy hair fell down over shapely, trim shoulders. She was in fact a remarkably beautiful young woman. Little wonder then that the half the young studs in the county came sniffing around her at social events! Well, after the lesson she was about to take, it was likely that she’d be a little more circumspect in her dealings with them in future!
His Lordship turned to Roger approvingly. “I must compliment you Roger. You have a fine figure of a wife.”
“Thank you sir.”
Lord Castlebridge returned his gaze to the trembling Brenda. “Turn around girl. Let me look at you properly.” Withering under His Lordship’s appraisal, Brenda turned around slowly. Lord Castlebridge grunted appreciatively. “Yes, most pleasant Roger.” he affirmed. There was one slight flaw in Roger’s wife that His Lordship might have taken issue with. She was rather too bushy in the pubic regions for his tastes. Lord Castlebridge had somewhat of a bee in his bonnet regarding pubic hair. Not only did he regard it as unsightly but he was also of the firm opinion that it was unhygienic. As a result of this peculiar obsession of his every female in the house was obliged to shave her pubic hair regularly and it was not at all uncommon for His Lordship to demand of some young maid that she lower her knickers for examination to see whether his wishes were being carried out in this respect. A failure to display a correctly shaven crotch was liable to be punished with a strapping or, in the case of multiple transgressions, even the cane. Lord Castlebridge was a stickler in this matter and few among the household maids dared risk the consequences of a spot check. Nevertheless he held his peace in this instance since it was Roger’s affair after all how he wished his wife to present herself naked. It might even be possible that he liked his wife a little hirsute in that part of her anatomy and it wasn’t his business to criticise it.
Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Lord Castlebridge turned his attention once more to immediate business. “Well young lady we haven’t come here to admire your womanly attributes, charming though they may be. You are here to be punished!” He turned to address his butler. “Greenwood. Would you be so kind as to select a suitable cane please?”
“Of course My Lord.” Greenwood stepped over to the cabinet on the far wall.
A loud sob escaped Brenda’s lips at the word “cane” and Lord Castlebridge looked at her sharply. “Yes that’s right young lady! You heard correctly. You are to be caned! There’s no point sulking about it now. You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you so you’ll just have to put up and bear it!”
“Would this implement be suitable do you think My Lord?” asked Greenwood, holding out a cane inquiringly.
Lord Castlebridge held out a hand. “Let’s have a look Greenwood.” He took the cane and examined it carefully. He approved almost immediately of Greenwood’s choice. It was the longest cane in the cabinet, a regulation quarter of an inch thick and admirably weighted and sound with a fashioned suede covered handle on one end to facilitate a firm grip. “Capital greenwood! Just the job!”
He turned to Brenda who was regarding the terrible instrument with hypnotised horror. “Yes take a good long look young lady! You’re going to be feeling this across your rear end all too soon. This is the price of your foolishness and your dalliance with young suitors. A married woman has no business flirting with young men in the first place let alone divulging her husband’s confidential business dealings to them. Well you’ll be singing a different tune very shortly! Now if you would be so kind, please step up to the caning stool for the administration of your punishment.” Lord Castlebridge nodded to Maria and Suzette. “Would you two girls assist Mrs Brideshead please and show her the correct position to take before strapping her down. Greenwood I’d be obliged if you’d supervise and make sure the girls strap her in properly.”
“Yes My Lord.”
Brenda thought for one awful moment that her bladder would disgrace her as she stepped forward to the caning stool. She felt slightly dizzy and faint and the sounds in the room seemed to echo as if from far away; hollow and unconnected to reality. In a daze she stepped gingerly in her bare feet onto the box and, with the two girls guidance leaned forward over the terrible stool. She felt the cool leather of the strap across the back of her waist as Maria passed it across to her companion and then her stomach pressed firmly against the hard surface of the stool as Suzette tightened it in the buckle. “Your hand please ma-am.” murmured Maria softly and Brenda let her take her arm and stared almost in incomprehension at the girl fastening the strap around her slender wrist. Suzette attended to her other wrist. Brenda tried to move her arms but they were firmly secured to the legs of the stool.
Then the girls moved to her rear. Brenda felt their hands upon her legs and the tips of her toes lost their final contact with the box as they lifted and parted her thighs to secure them to the back legs. She felt shamefully exposed as the girls tightened the straps on her thighs. Her bottom was thrust out invitingly for the cane in Lord Castlebridge’s hand and, with her legs parted, her sex was displayed disgracefully to everyone in the room. She gripped the legs of the stool with her bound hands and stared fixedly ahead with a quivering lip as Greenwood examined the straps; her face burning with humiliation and shame.
Once Greenwood had expressed his satisfaction with the girls’ work in binding Brenda to the stool, Lord Castlebridge turned to Roger. “Roger, with your permission, I’d like Greenwood to administer your wife’s caning. He’s the expert here and I trust him to do a thorough job. Would that be alright with you?”
Roger swallowed. He had watched his wife strip naked and be strapped into the caning stool with mesmerised fascination. The eroticism of Suzette’s bondage to the caning stool had been surpassed by the sight of his naked wife suspended and bound over the same apparatus. He was uncomfortably aware of the urgent throbbing from the bulge in his trousers. Hastily he cleared his throat. “Yes sir. Quite alright.” His voice sounded unnaturally high to him.
“Good! In that case Greenwood it’s all yours.” Lord Castlebridge handed the cane back to his butler before addressing Roger once more. “Of course Roger there will be times to come when you will need to discipline your own wife in future therefore I advise you to watch carefully and observe Greenwood’s technique so as best to apply it when it is necessary to do the job yourself.”
“Yes sir. Of course sir.”
“Excellent. I think you will find it most instructive. Very well Greenwood. You may proceed.”
Greenwood gave a small cough.“Er forgive me My Lord but you have not yet specified the number of strokes Mrs Brideshead is to receive. Would you care to clarify that My Lord?”
“Ah yes of course. Sorry Greenwood. Forgetful of me! Would you administer one hundred strokes please?” There was a strangled gasp of horrified protest from the waiting Brenda. Lord Castlebridge frowned at her. “You might well squeak young lady but it is nothing less than you deserve! I intend you to learn a lesson you will never forget!” His Lordship turned to Roger. “I know it may seem a severe sentence to impose upon your wife Roger but I consider it appropriate to the seriousness of her offence. Once again I must point out that had you taken firmer steps with her earlier she might have spared herself the severity of the caning due to her by her reformed behaviour. However, since you took no such steps, then her conduct has deteriorated to the point where nothing less severe will suffice to match the gravity of her dereliction. I presume you agree with me.”
Roger nodded in a slight daze. “Yes sir. I bow to your better judgement in the matter sir.”
“Capital. In that case let us continue. Carry on if you would Greenwood.”
“Very good sir.” There was an awful, expectant hush as Greenwood removed his jacket with great dignity and rolled up his shirt sleeve. In some ways Castlebridge Hall’s butler seemed even more imposing without his jacket on; the solid width of his powerful shoulders bulging at his shirt and waistcoat. With quiet, dignified efficiency he picked up the cane and stepped forward to address Brenda’s quivering posterior. Tiny moans of despair from the trembling young lady were the only sounds to break the tense silence as Greenwood measured the distance and raised the cane high above his shoulder. Then, in a terrible whistling blur, the cane arced through its swing directly into the centre of Brenda’s buttocks.
Lady Castlebridge and her two maids flinched and visibly cringed at the loud whoosh of the cane punctuated by the sharp crack as it bit into the orbs of Brenda’s bottom. Their reaction was nothing however in comparison to the unfortunate recipient of that awful first stroke. Brenda’s body jerked violently under the solid impact of the cane, her eyes flew open in shock and the sudden pain that exploded in her rear drove a loud cry from her lungs. Brenda had expected the cane to hurt of course but nothing had prepared her for the scorching concentration of agony from that first stroke. As Greenwood lifted the cane once more the pain of the first stroke seemed to spread across her bottom and penetrate deep into the muscle. She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth against its welling intensity.
Suzette bit her lip in sympathy as she watched Brenda struggle with the torment of that first stroke. The fifty strokes she had received from greenwood in January had been probably the most wretched experience of her young life. She was a little vague as to exactly what Brenda’s offence had been but it must have been something truly spectacular to earn her a hundred strokes. Suzette shivered at the very thought. Her companion Maria was equally sympathetic. She remembered feelingly the first time she had ever had to undergo a caning. She recalled her own shock at the terrible pain of the first stroke and the awful awareness that it was only the first of many. Her sentence on that first occasion had been thirty strokes and she remembered her despair at the thought of another twenty nine equally agonising ones to follow. For this poor woman there were another ninety nine to face. She must be in a truly terrible place by now.
Greenwood lifted the cane to deliver the second stroke but before he could administer it Lord Castlebridge raised a hand. “One moment if you please Greenwood. I’d like Roger to see this.” His Lordship directed Roger’s attention to the crimson stripe now appearing on his wife’s bottom. “Now that’s how a mark from the cane should look like Roger.” His Lordship pointed out. “Clear, defined and parallel to the ground. You’ll note that Greenwood doesn’t flick at the target or allow the cane to bounce off but delivers it firmly and with plenty of follow through to bite deeply into the flesh. A well delivered stroke should leave a good, clear welt with exact precision on the bottom.”
Roger peered at the single line of the cane across his wife’s bottom with interest ignoring the gasping sobs from his wife. “I see sir.”
Lord Castlebridge nodded. “Yes Roger. Greenwood’s great skill is in landing every stroke precisely where he wishes it to land and to cover the whole bottom with well spaced stripes. He has an uncannily accurate eye.” His Lordship glanced up to see Greenwood waiting patiently with the cane still poised over Brenda’s bottom. “Ah yes. Sorry to interrupt Greenwood. Do carry on.”
“Yes My Lord.” Greenwood adjust his stance slightly and then brought the cane down for the second stroke. Brenda convulsed heavily against the straps and cried out in pain. She was obviously the vocal sort Lord Castlebridge thought to himself. A lot of the girls in the Hall tried, in common with his wife, to bite back their cries during the first strokes. Naturally it never lasted long before the mounting pain finally broke their resolve and they gave vent to loud shrieks. Some however yelled their heads off almost from the first stroke. It seemed Brenda Brideshead belonged to this latter category.
His Lordship’s observation was confirmed over the next few strokes for Brenda’s cries grew ever more shrill and desperate with every line of scorching pain to crease her tormented rear. By the seventh or eighth stroke she was screaming to the full capacity of her lungs and her caning had barely begun! Roger glanced in fascination at the imposing figure of Greenwood as he caned his wife. His demeanour showed not the slightest hint of pleasure or sadism but simply a detached, dispassionate attention to duty. You felt he would have shown the same face whilst serving cocktails at one of the Hall’s receptions or examining the silverware on the dinner table. He seemed oblivious to the shrieking agony he was inflicting upon Brenda’s convulsing body. It was all in a day’s work to him!
Lord Castlebridge seemed a little dissatisfied with proceedings. “Perhaps a touch harder if you please Greenwood.”
“Very well My Lord.” The cane’s swing became a whirling blur and Brenda’s screams took on an even more demented quality.
Nobody was bothering to keep a tally of the number of strokes applied. Greenwood’s numerical accuracy was phenomenal and if charged with delivering a hundred strokes then one hundred would be exactly the amount that his victim received. The cadence of his rhythm was uncanny too; almost metronomic with machine like precision and every stroke as hard as its predecessors. Roger tried to keep a mental tally of the strokes in his head but he kept losing count as he watched his wife scream and writhe under the measured beat of Greenwood’s cane.
Part of him felt perhaps he should be feeling sorry for her but there was something deeply exciting about witnessing her punishment; a dark pleasure in watching her pain he had never known in himself before. She was jerking violently every time the cane impacted on her rear and struggling futilely against her bonds: her face red and contorted in pain as she threw her head from side to side under the cane’s assault and filled the library with her howling wails. Already her body was showing the toll of her struggles against the straps holding her to the caning stool for it was shining with sweat from the exertion.
Lord Castlebridge was keeping up a commentary on Brenda’s punishment by way of educating his junior business partner. “You’ll note Roger that Greenwood is spacing the strokes out evenly across the target to make sure that every part is properly covered.” Roger could see the point. There was a distinct line of unmarked flesh between the angry red weals of the cane he could see but, even as he watched, Greenwood landed the cane solidly into the unmarked region to raise another fiery welt with unerring accuracy. Roger wondered feverishly just how many young ladies had had to suffer under the ministrations of the butler’s cane for him to have achieved such masterful proficiency.
“You’ll also observe Roger,” His Lordship continued, “That Greenwood doesn’t just confine the strokes to the buttocks. It is a rule of thumb in this house that the backs of the thighs are caned equally with the bottom. The region on the back of the thighs is particularly sensitive and any strokes applied there are extremely painful.” Roger could believe it. His wife’s screams rose to a particularly ear piercing note whenever the cane cut into the soft flesh of the back of her legs. The backs of her legs were already well marked with ugly raised weals. As he watched Greenwood delivered a scything stroke precisely into the crease separating Brenda’s buttocks from the top of her thighs. Roger winced at the frantic howl drawn from his wife at the searing agony of that frightful delivery into such an acutely sensitive zone.
Brenda had never known pain like it in her life. Straining with all the strength of her body at her bonds, her earlier humiliation in her nakedness before witnesses had long since ceased to be relevant. Now her entire world had narrowed down to the cadence of the cane upon her flash and the waves of unbearable agony it left in its wake. The torment just seemed to go on and on; a relentless, merciless infliction driving her over thresholds of endurance and beyond the bounds of reason towards madness. The leather straps were chafing at her skin as she struggled wildly in their embrace against the agony in her bottom and thighs. Her throat felt sore from her rasping screams and she was nearing the point of exhaustion. She couldn’t seem to see clearly anymore for her eyes were swollen with tears and her tangled hair was clinging to the sides of her wet face. The suddenly it stopped.
Lord Castlebridge looked at Greenwood in surprise. “What’s the matter Greenwood? Why have you stopped?”
Greenwood was looking at the cane in his hand critically. “I’m afraid My Lord this cane appears to have broken. I shall need to replace it before continuing.”
“Oh I see. It seemed sound enough before.”
“Yes My Lord but occasionally one does find a cane with some hidden flaw in the grain which can be quite difficult to discern under a superficial examination and only reveals itself when being used in severe punishments.”
“Well are there plenty more in the cabinet Greenwood?”
“Oh yes My Lord. There are several similar suitable instruments. I shall replace it immediately.”
“Well carry on then Greenwood.””Yes My Lord.”
As Greenwood walked over to the cabinet to choose a new cane Lord Castlebridge took the opportunity to walk over to Brenda to examine her and reassure himself that she would be able to take the full complement of cane strokes allotted to her. She was lying limply over the caning stool; with her chest heaving. At least she seemed to be taking advantage of the temporary respite to gasp air into her lungs. His lordship placed a hand beneath her chin and lifted her face to examine her. Brenda had certainly been seen to better effect than her current appearance. Her face was red, swollen and streaked black with the ruins of her eyeliner and mascara down her cheeks. He moved the tangled mass of her hair away to peer into her eyes. They were wild, full of pain and swollen with tears but at least he could detect no sign of imminent u*********sness that would have caused him to order the beating ceased. “Well young lady,” he growled at her, “I hope you’re learning your lesson.”
Brenda sobbed and looked at him pleadingly. “P...please My Lord.... no more... I... I can’t take it!”
Lord Castlebridge grunted. “I’ll take that as a yes then shall I.”
Greenwood cleared his throat. He was back in place behind Brenda holding a new cane. “I have replaced the implement My Lord if you will permit me.”
“Excellent. How many more has she to come Greenwood?”
“The lady has received a total of fifty seven strokes My Lord. She has a further forty three to endure to fulfil the full sentence awarded her My Lord.”
Lord Castlebridge nodded grimly and stepped back. “Very well then Greenwood. Pray continue!”
“Thank you My Lord.” Greenwood raised his arm and brought the new cane down viciously across Brenda’s tortured rear and the caning recommenced.
The latter part of Brenda’s caning was the worst of all. She had exhausted herself in her earlier struggles in the straps and now she just lay placidly over the stool twitching feebly each time the cane found its mark. Even her loud screams had lost their earlier frantic quality to be replaced by an almost continuous keening wail and pathetic sobbing. There were tiny pools on the parquet beneath her face where her tears had dampened the polished floor and there was a drop of mucous on the end of her nose. Inevitably by this stage Greenwood had run out of clear spots to land the cane and many strokes were landing on top of the welts already raised by earlier impacts. In places the surface of the skin had broken under these accumulated blows and tiny drops of scarlet were beginning to appear.
Brenda had descended into some terrible netherworld. All sounds in the room seemed to come from far away now; even her own cries of anguish seemed distant and remote as if being uttered by someone else. A red mist seemed to have fallen over her vision and the only thing registering in her consciousness was the constant throbbing agony from her rear quarters which felt, in her fevered imagination, to have taken on gargantuan proportions like some great swollen, inflamed scarlet contusion dwarfing the rest of her body. And still the cane came down to further exacerbate that dreadful pulsing pain from that swollen monstrosity.
The onlookers witnessed this final act of the drama in solemn silence; even His lordship felt twinges of pity for the young woman in the closing stages of her ordeal. Roger was standing hypnotised wanting on the one hand to rush to his wife to comfort her and on the other determined to see the frightful punishment to the bitter end. Lady Castlebridge and her two maids could barely bear to watch.
Then suddenly it was over. Greenwood straightened up. “The full sentence has been administered My Lord.” he announced gravely.
Lord Castlebridge nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you Greenwood.” He murmured softly. He looked at Brenda carefully. She lay like a rag doll over the stool sobbing quietly now in the last throes of misery, still convulsing occasionally as if the cane was still striking her bottom. His Lordship had come very close to ordering the caning stopped during the last few strokes sensing that the young woman was on the verge of passing out. But somehow she had endured; she had endured in agony and misery but endured she had. He felt a new respect for Roger’s wife. Apart from the one occasion during the interval when Greenwood had been obliged to change canes she had not pleaded for mercy. She had taken her punishment. She had taken it with demented screams and floods of tears but nevertheless she had taken it without pitiable pleas. That in itself was admirable. Roger had reason to be proud of his wife. She had demonstrated an inner core of fortitude hitherto unseen beneath her outward appearance of frivolous triviality. Allow that inner strength to come to the fore and flourish and much could be done with this young lady His Lordship thought. It was often the case, he considered, that a person’s true character could be revealed through the test of ordeal and hardship.
Thoughtfully he took Roger’s arm and led him around to examine the beaten wasteland of Brenda’s rear. “Well Roger,” he noted, indicating the swollen mass of scarlet weals that had once been the pristine, unsullied surface of Brenda’s pert attractive bottom, “that is what a well thrashed backside should look like!”
Roger stared in horrified fascination. From the middle of her thighs to the top of her buttocks, the cane had left barely an inch unmarked by the livid welts of its ministrations. It seemed incredible to Roger that his wife had managed to suffer that without falling into a dead faint. She normally made a drama if she merely pricked a finger or broke a nail. Yet she had taken this frightful beating. And Roger was certain of one thing. She had taken this beating to save his job and possibly even their marriage; sacrificed herself to agony for the sake of a greater good. From deep within him he began to feel a slow swelling of pride in the woman he had chosen for his wife.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Lord Castlebridge squeezed his arm. “I think your wife will be a much changed woman for this Roger. Once she’s recovered from her punishment I suspect you’ll scarcely recognise her as the foolish girl she was before. I think you can be well pleased with her. She conducted herself bravely and took her punishment like a lady. You ought to be proud of her.”
“Yes sir,” Roger mumbled.
Lord Castlebridge peered at Brenda’s bottom. “A little bl**d there but nothing too bad Roger. She’ll heal well enough though she won’t be sitting comfortably for a day or two that’s for sure.” He turned to his butler. “Excellent Greenwood! Capital job!”
“Thank you My Lord.”
His Lordship nodded at Suzette and Maria. “Well you two girls had better release Mrs Brideshead now. She can have half an hour kneeling against the wall to recover then you can take her away to bathe her and see to her contusions.”
The two pale faced girls curtsied. “Yes My Lord.”
“Good and treat her gently do you hear. Greenwood! Is there any more cognac in that decanter? Mr Brideshead and I could use a fortifying drink after all that.”
“I shall attend to it immediately My Lord.”
“Good, good! Come Roger let’s take a seat while the girls see to your wife. Don’t worry about driving home by the way. I’ll get one of my drivers to take you and your wife home in one our cars. I’ll get one of them to drive your car home tomorrow.”
Lady Castlebridge felt a great swelling of love for her two girls as they ministered to the pathetic beaten figure of Roger’s wife. They were two little angels of mercy, soothing and comforting her as they gently released her from the caning stool and supporting her as she tried to stand unsteadily on treacherously unstable limbs. With the kindest of consideration they helped her to the bench along the opposite wall where the household tradition determined that she spend half an hour kneeling on the bench with her face to the wall and her hands on her head as a final token of her disgrace. Brenda took the required position submissively weeping softly to herself with her rear now a single throbbing ache turning purple with bruising.
Lord Castlebridge was in a conversational mood now that the formalities of Brenda’s punishment had been attended to. He was showing Roger the cane that Greenwood had used on his wife. “Greenwood makes these himself Roger.” he was telling him. “Swears by these leather handles on them. Says they afford a much better grip when using them. He can’t be doing with those old fashioned curved handle canes you used to see in old schoolrooms. Says the only reason for the curved handle is to allow them to be hung up and they’re useless in fact to allow a decent grip on the thing. Instead he attaches a leather loop to the handle to hang them by. It’s important to hang your canes up and in a dry cabinet. They tend to warp otherwise.”
Roger nodded, reflecting that this was one of the most bizarre conversations he had ever had; quite in fitting with the entire evening in fact. “I see sir.”
“Yes I’ll see that you have a couple of samples to take home with you Roger and perhaps a couple of good leather straps as well. You should have the necessary tools about the house to maintain discipline Roger. Tell me, is that big loft in your house still unused?”
“Yes sir. I’ve just been using it to store a few things in.”
“Excellent. I know this chap down in the village; carpenter he is... excellent craftsman. He built the replica of the caning stool in Greenwood’s pantry. I’ll send him over to your place and he can build one to install in your loft. That’ll help you keep your wife on the straight and narrow!”
“Thank you sir. That’s very kind of you.”
“Nonsense Roger. I’ve demonstrated the standards of discipline I expect from you and I’ll expect you maintain them. With a caning stool as a deterrent in your loft your wife will think more than twice about repeating her recent misconduct I assure you.”
The conversation continued in the same vain until Lord Castlebridge glanced at the clock against the library wall to note that Brenda has served the obligatory half hour in shame on the bench. He nodded to Suzette and Maria. “Girls would you bring Mrs Brideshead over here a moment?”
Brenda seemed to be recovering slightly. Her bottom was still an aching misery but at least she managed to walk unaided across the library albeit very stiffly. She stood naked before His Lordship and her husband in silent despondency, her humiliation complete. Lord Castlebridge looked at her not unkindly. “Well Brenda you’ve been punished so we’ll say no more about the matter. I hope this has been a lesson to you.” Unable to speak Brenda merely nodded miserably. “Good girl” Lord Castlebridge told her before turning to the two maids. “Girls, would you take Mrs Brideshead along to the bathroom, bathe her and tidy her up? You’d better put some ointment on her bottom as well while you’re about it. No need to take her clothes. Her Ladyship will put them in a bag for her.” Lord Castlebridge hesitated for a moment. “Oh one other thing before you take her girls. Roger I noticed that your wife is... well a little... how can I put it...a little hirsute around her privates. Do you approve of this?”
Roger was taken by surprise. “I... I hadn’t really thought about it sir. I suppose she is a little bushy but aren’t all ladies a bit hairy there?”
Lord Castlebridge shook his head. “Not in this house Roger. I don’t approve of excessive topiary at the garden gate I’m afraid.” He gestured to his wife and the two girls, “Come here you three and lift your dresses.” The three women complied blushing with embarrassment. “Now drop your knickers girls and show Roger here the approved pubic adornment in this house. Meekly the three women obeyed and displayed themselves to Roger.
Roger was astonished. All three had perfectly smooth crutches completely shaven of any hair. He found the sight stimulating in the extreme. “I see sir.” he mumbled, leaning forward for a better look. “It’s er... most appealing sir.”
“Exactly Roger. Far more attractive don’t you think and cleaner too!”
“Yes sir. Quite sir.”
“Well, with your permission Roger, I’ll get the girls to shave your wife while they’re bathing her. I think you’ll find it much more aesthetic.”
“I’m sure I will sir.”
“Good that’s settled then. Run along girls and attend to Mrs Brideshead here. Cynthia, would you collect Brenda’s clothes please? I have a few items I want to pick out for Roger from the punishment cabinet.”
As the two girls led Brenda away Roger looked puzzled about something. “Er why did you want Her Ladyship to put my wife’s clothes in a bag sir?”
“Ah I was coming to that Roger. Now that she’s been punished I want to underline her servility and submission to your will Roger. To that end I want you to take her home naked. It’s getting dark now and you’ll be quite private in the back of one of the limousines. In fact Roger I want you to keep her indoors for the rest of the weekend and under no circumstance allow her to get dressed until Monday. Will you do that please?”
“Of course sir but I’m not quite sure what your intentions are. Is it merely extra punishment?”
“Partly that Roger but also partly to emphasise the new relationship that I think you’ll find emerging between you. I’ve had the chance to observe your wife closely Roger and also your demeanour toward her. I think you’ve been letting her down Roger.”
“In what way sir?”
“Your wife is a naturally submissive young lady Roger. She craves a strong hand; firm guidance to place certainty and security into her life. You’ve been failing her there Roger. Given a dominant hand to lead her and she can begin to shine as truly a wife you can be proud of. Fail to provide her with that and she’ll merely drift away at random seeking dominance among other men as she has so clearly been doing. Now that you’ve been seen to have her punished Roger the whole dynamic of your relationship has changed. Once she recovers from her beating. and assuming you exert your dominance over her, then you’ll scarcely recognise the loving and attentive wife she’ll become in place of the social gadfly she was before. She WANTS you to dominate her Roger. She craves that and without it she’ll be deeply unhappy and be unable to find fulfilment in her life. Not every woman is the same Roger nor every man designed to dominate a woman. Quite the reverse in fact; but a submissive person needs that submission to somebody they love and respect to find contentment and safety in their life. Your wife is just such a woman Roger. The question is whether or not you are just such a man to provide her with that. So keeping her naked and inside for the weekend has more to do with you than it has with her; it’s a way to train you to provide your wife with the domination she desires and, if I may be so bold as to suggest, the love she deserves. Do you understand what I’m trying to say Roger?”
Roger nodded “I think so sir.”
“There are people who desire to surrender themselves in slavery to somebody above all else Roger. They are easy to train for they are already willing to learn that role. Far harder is to train a wise master or mistress to own them. That’s the difficult bit Roger. You have a lot to learn.”
“I see sir. I shall try my best.”
“Good chap! Now come over here for there are some things I want to show you.”
The brandy decanter had taken considerably more punishment by the time that the two girls led Brenda back into the library. Her appearance was much improved. The girls had bathed her, washed and brushed out her hair and repaired the damage to her face, applying cosmetics skilfully to restore her lovely features back to some semblance of their glory. Roger’s attention however was drawn to her groin for she was now cleanly shaven, the skin baby like in softness above her sex. Her bottom was still of course ugly with swelling and bruising and would be for some days to come but nevertheless she looked more beautiful than Roger had ever seen her; a beauty somehow enhanced by the meek solemnity of her face and posture. He had never seen her more desirable.
Lord Castlebridge glanced at the clock. “Well it’s getting late Roger. I’d best get Greenwood to rustle up a car for you. Before that however we’ll attend to those matters we’ve been talking about. Come here please Brenda.” Obediently Brenda came to stand in front of His Lordship. “Turn around and put your hands behind you back please.” he commanded. She took up the required position and Lord Castlebridge took a pair of leather cuffs and bound them to her wrists before fastening them together by means of a clip behind her back. He turned her around gently. “You’re being sent home naked and bound as a further penance Brenda.” He told her and another thing. Kneel down please and open your mouth.”
Roger was astonished by the way his wife meekly obeyed the instructions without question or argument and further amazed as she raised no protest as His Lordship took the ball gag, pushed it between her teeth and fastened it in place with the buckle on the strap behind her head. “This is to remind you that you landed yourself in trouble by opening your mouth Brenda.” Lord Castlebridge told her. “Now one last thing.” With that he produced a leather collar with a chain attached to it. He handed it to Roger. “This is properly your job Roger.” he told him. Maria held up Brenda’s hair as Roger fastened the collar about her neck. The atmosphere in the room seemed charged with significance as he completed the fastening as if some important milestone had been crossed.
Lord Castlebridge nodded in satisfaction. “There now. She’s ready to take home Roger. Greenwood, would you go see to Mr and Mrs Brideshead’s transport please?”
“At once My Lord.”
Brenda knelt subserviently on the floor in front of them, her eyes lowered demurely and the chain hanging in a loop from the collar about her neck to her husband’s hand. Beside Roger on the table was the bag containing her clothes and the canes and straps His Lordship had gifted to him. Brenda looked so beautiful in her penitent kneeling position that Roger felt such a burst of love and desire for her he thought his heart would burst.
Presently Greenwood returned to announce that their car was waiting. Roger stood and Brenda rose awkwardly to her feet on the end of her chain to accompany him. Lord Castlebridge had a final word for her however. He stood to take something from the punishment cabinet and to show it to Brenda. Her eyes opened in fear. It was a long single tailed whip fully seven feet long. “Now I’m hoping you’ve learned your lesson Brenda.” he told her, “and that we shall see no repetition of your recent behaviour. If however your husband decides that your behaviour is still unsatisfactory and has occasion to return you here for punishment you may expect to feel this! Do you understand?”
Unable to articulate through the gag Brenda could only nod. His Lordship grunted in satisfaction. “Excellent. Well Roger it has been perhaps a difficult evening with some unpleasant duties to perform but I hope we can all start afresh from here. Now mind what I said about the regime for this weekend and I shall expect a full report on Monday.”
“Very good sir.”
Lord Castlebridge shook Roger’s hand “Well you’d better be off now then.” he told him.
His lordship watched Roger lead his wife out on the end of her chain with enormous satisfaction before turning to his wife. “I’m going down to my study for a couple of hours Cynthia. “ he told her doubtless you’ll want to turn in.”
“Yes Rupert I rather think I will.”
“Good well don’t wait up for me old girl. I have things to do and I’ll be at least a couple of hours.”
Alone again in his study Lord Castlebridge leaned back in his armchair and placed his feet on his desk in great pleasure. He had liberated the cognac decanter from Greenwood and determined to drain it over a fine Havana cigar. He had been less that truthful with his wife. There was nothing demanding his attention in his study other than a couple of hours privacy for himself. Doubtless his wife would take his absence as an opportunity to play with her two girls. She must think him simple if she thought him unaware of her leisure activities with those two little darlings he thought to himself with a chuckle. He didn’t begrudge his wife her little playthings however and he was always very careful not to catch her red handed with them until such time as it pleased him to do so.
All in all it had been a most diverting evening and the end to a highly interesting week. Then next month it would be Switzerland and the delights of the lovely Emilie! He swilled the cognac around his glass and scented the aroma in deep satisfaction. An owl hooted from the poplars lining the main drive and all was right with the world under the roof of Castlebridge Hall.
This is the final part of this story but if any readers would like more tales of Castlebridge Hall be sure to let me know.