In The Bookshop Amelia Slone is invited to administer some Edwardian style discipline to a maid. The Maid’s first Punishment tells of how the maid came to be in that position.
You can read the scene where Amelia administers the discipline and more in Caning the Maid
Despite the late hour, the Mistress was sat at her bureau in her morning room. Emily had roused herself at the sound of the bell. The household was small, only Madam and her husband who was currently away on a lengthy business trip, so she was the only live-in servant.
She had drawn the curtains earlier and there was no need of a fire in the warm summer weather so she was more than a little irritated at being summoned.
“How long have you worked for me?” The Mistress asked without looking up.
“Three months, Madam.”
“And how old are you?”
The Mistress turned toward her. The unsmiling expression that she usually greeted Emily with and her position as he Mistress always made Emily think of her as older although she was probably only in her late thirties.
She had heard it said that she was an attractive woman. Her chestnut brown hair was stylishly waved and held up by a mother of pearl clip. Beneath the long sleek dress, she was buxom and rounded in contrast to her own pencil-thin frame hidden beneath the plain maid’s dress.
She still had fine skin, Emily knew this as she often saw a lot of it as she helped her dress each morning.
“When you entered my employment you agreed that you would be subject to discipline should there be any transgressions.”
“I did, Madam but…”
The Mistress raised her hand. “Your work has been acceptable but there have been occasions when you are tardy and somewhat sloppy. You do not go about your duties with a cheery disposition and I believe that attitude needs some correction.”
Emily looked down. It seemed pointless to point out that she was the only servant apart from a part-time cook and a handyman and, with all her duties to perform, could not be in two places at once.
When she looked up the Mistress was holding a cane.
“We shall apply a little correctional discipline,” she said. “Disrobe.”
“What?” Emily gasped.
“Discipline is rarely effective unless it is applied to the naked posterior.” She pointed to a dining chair standing in the centre of the room. “Disrobe and bend over with your palms flat on the seat of that chair.
There was silence in the room and the Mistress glared at her. Emily could feel the tension between them almost as if she was engaged in a tug-of-war. She knew her Mistress had just made an unreasonable demand. What would happen if she spoke of it to her friends or told Eric who she was walking out with? Would she be believed or would they just laugh at her?
If they did believe her, the gossip might spread and the Mistress could be ruined. Beating servants may not attract the attention of the constabulary but would still be frowned on by the polite society the Mistress moved in.
It occurred to her that if she allowed her to administer the discipline then she might be in a position to extract some benefit in return for her silence. Emily smiled inside but her face remained a picture of contrition and she began to unbutton her dress.
She shivered as she pulled the last of her undergarments over her head. Not because of the cold but she was aware that, in all of her adult life, she had never been naked before anyone before.
The Mistress’s eyes seemed to rove over her body and come to rest on the dark bush of hair between her legs. For some unknown reason, Emily felt her nipples stiffening.
Her Mistress’s head jerked up as if she was tearing her gaze away from the sight and she pointed the tip of the cane at the chair. Emily obediently bent and placed her hands on the seat as instructed.
She felt a tap on the cheeks of her behind then there was a swish and something stung her flesh. She yelped and her body jerked.
“Now, now, girl, that wasn’t hard,” the Mistress said behind her.
The cane bit her again and then several times in quick succession. It made a cracking sound each time it landed and Emily jumped at contacts. Then she felt it sting both her cheeks at once. There was a more muted slap as it touched her flesh.
It stung her in a series of rhythmic strokes and Emily’s body writhed as each landed. Air hissed through her teeth as she reacted to the pain that seemed to be seeping across her behind. Curiously, although the strikes were only landing on the fleshy orbs of her buttocks the pain seemed to be creeping through the rest of her body.
Then the blows stopped. Emily looked over her shoulder and wondered if it was over and she could stand up.
She decided staying where she was was probably the best course of action as her Mistress was now staring at her and, for the first time Emily saw a slight smile flicker across her face.
During the pause the pain throbbed through Emily, not as agonising stabs, but more as gentle pulsing waves as if her bottom was being warmed by the fire in winter.
Her nipples felt tight as if they too had been whipped and she was surprised to feel that the sensations seemed to be focusing on her womanly parts.
She wriggled her behind a little, the lips between her legs felt wet and swollen and there was a strange sensation creeping through her cleft. She had the overwhelming urge to lift her palm from the seat of the chair and slip her fingers inside.
The cane landed again, harder this time, and Emily collapsed forward onto the chair, her bottom still in the air. There was another whack across her behind and, hoping she was concealed by her position, she slipped her hand between her legs.
The feeling of her own touch made her gasp. She was so wet and her lips felt as if they had swollen to twice their normal size. Before she knew it her fingers had curled inside her and she found herself writing both at the strikes on her flesh and the feelings her penetrating fingers were causing.
She pushed them deeper inside and cried out as they pressed against her making her body spasm in time with the strokes of the cane.
She shuddered as the strange feeling swept through her and then the beating stopped. She quickly withdrew her fingers and pushed herself up on the chair, still bent over but with her arms straight. She looked down, her fingers glistened with moisture.
She glanced over her shoulder. The Mistress’s cheeks had flushed red and she was breathing heavily.
“I do find administering discipline very stimulating. I think I will require a further service from you,” she said.
In the next part we find out what that service is. Read more… Subscribe to my email list to get updates.
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Being a bisexual woman in Edwardian London is not easy. Especially when you enemies… and your friends are masters of BDSM
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