Welcome to a world of spankings, submission and sexual slavery that seethes below the respectable veneer of Edwardian London
Warning: This erotic novel contains scenes of spankings and submission
The room was sparsely furnished. A writing desk and chair stood under the window. Almost in the centre was a chaise longue upholstered in maroon velvet. Its left hand end was open and the right hand side curved up to a rolled arm.
‘You must be prepared for what you will face and what you will administer. Take off your skirt’
‘What?’ Amelia heard herself squawk.
‘Take off you skirt and bend over the back of that chaise longue,’ von Schellenberg said calmly.
‘To gain access to the order you must at least appear to be a disciple of discipline. In order to be a disciple you will need to have experienced it. Later we will train you in administering it. Now take off your skirt and bend over.’ His voice suddenly acquired a hard edged note.
Amelia unbuttoned her jacket and, folding it carefully placed it on the seat of the chaise. Her shirtwaist revealed her naked arms but leaving it on to at least preserve some modesty she unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down over her petticoat. She folded the skirt in half and then half again before placing it on top of the jacket. She turned to face von Schellenberg.
‘And the petticoats,’ he sighed.
Amelia obediently slid down her petticoats and began to carefully fold them.
‘When I give you an instruction I expect it to be obeyed immediately, with alacrity, do you understand?’ Von Schellenberg barked.
Amelia turned, deep within her a memory stirred. She had never been beaten on the behind at school but slaps across palms with rulers or canes had been common and she could remember the stinging pain. Now she could feel herself pouting like a naughty schoolgirl and she was aware that only her draws and chemise covered her lower half.
‘Remove your drawers.’
‘What,’ Amelia stuttered.
Von Schellenberg picked up a leather strop from the table beside him and tapped it almost silently across the palm of his left hand.
‘Your drawers,’ he said quietly.
Amelia untied the cord at her waist and slid the cotton drawers down thankful that her chemise hung down to mid-thigh level.
Amelia complied; every movement slowed with anticipation as if the air around her had suddenly thickened into the consistency of oil. She realised that part of her mind was fearful of what was about to happen, but a small but growing part of her brain seemed to tingling with excitement. She had only witnessing a caning once at school. The girl had wriggled and screamed but the display had stirred something deep inside her. In the following days she had even found herself daydreaming of what it would be like to be in the girl’s place. Now as an adult it seemed that she was about to find out.
‘Raise your chemise and bent over onto the head of the chaise longue.
‘What! No.’ Amelia half turned towards von Schellenberg’s voice.
There was the merest swish and a crack. Amelia felt a stinging sensation across her rump.
‘Do as you are told girl.’
Amelia’s hand moved to the left cheek of her bottom. There was another crack as the strop contacted with the still exposed right cheek. Amelia scrabbled at the hem of her chemise and. pulling it up to her waist bent forward.
There was silence. She was acutely aware that her naked behind was now on view to a man she had only met a few days before.