The Bumhampton Chronicles: The Complete Chapter 12

Gentle Reader: Sunday erupted with a flourish of cornets and thunder of timpani. The birds were chirping sweet melodies as I shook a grumbling Louisa awake. “It’s time to get up! Our chariot awaits.” Alas for poor Ruby. In truth it was pouring. Typical dank English weather and the roads would be a quagmire for coaches. No matter: if we stiff upper-lipped Britains cowered at the sight of mere liquid from the skies, we’d never have ruled such a vast Empire. “Forward Louisa! Once more unto the breach.” She whacked me with her pillow. I yanked her off the cot.

Church services were not mandatory, but I’ve always found the liturgy soothing and the sermons to be comforting. Peacock House had a family chapel, but the village of Lower Bumhampton was within easy walking distance. My boots were soiled, my soul in mortal peril, but my heart danced on rainbows. I was going riding with my lovers; my mind turned wicked envisioning the possibilities of three enclosed in private carriage. I searched my conscience, but found no jealousy at the thought of Chester fucking Louisa. I am sure having wet drawers in church is a sin, but how can love?

It is said the sensual and spiritual cannot co-exist, yet, unrepentant sinner that I am, I do not feel my prayers vanish unheard into the void. Unheeded perhaps: but not unremarked. By the time I trudged back, in silent company with those who had joined in raising voice in hymn, my entreaties seemed to have had an effect. Coyly peering around sullen ranks of stern, grey clouds, frowning in displeasure at Sabbath activities, was the welcome disk of golden sun bathing me in warm benediction. One must seize signs when they occur. To do otherwise mires the soul in hopelessness.

After luncheon I changed my padding. Thankfully I was only lightly flowing and had only minor symptoms from the assortment of ailments the woman’s curse brought each double fortnight. I resolved not to mention my courses to Chester, unless his hands strayed toward my southern hemispheres. I fretted over what to wear — or not to wear. We only had two hours together. I didn’t want to be seen as a frivolous, vacuous female; but I cared about my appearance. My wages had yet to be paid for the first week: at month’s end thirty pieces of silver creased my palm.

I was loath to ask for an advance, and the few shillings I brought with me to Peacock House wouldn’t even purchase a yard of ribbon, never mind fabric for a new frock. Louisa attempted to soothe my fret as I paced our room, oft-darned shift twitching with every impatient spin. “I don’t have anything to wear!” My plaintive wail was so unlike my normal disposition a part of me mockingly chided my immaturity. “Ruby, Mr. Jones-Smyth won’t give a fig about your attire. Look at me! Compared to you, I’m a drab hen in the shadow of your plumage.”

I paused to glare at her. There was no heat in my expression. Pouting in the small mirror, my voice was sulky. “I want him proud to be seen with me.” I spun back to face Louisa, pleading for her understanding. “A man of his social stature needs a helpmeet of impeccable grooming and manners.” Her response was a derisive snort of mocking laughter. “Will the introductions take place before or after he’s whipped and fucked you into submission?” I raised my hand. She was spared a good bare-bottomed beating over my knee by a timid knock on the door.

Nearly lost beneath a puffy mound of silk and lace, was Miss Frothinglips’ personal maid, Ellie. “My mistress sent me with this loan of a gown.” Any trepidation over her possible motive instantly turned to greed. In a trice, Louisa and Ellie had me trussed into stays — Miss Frothinglips’ sylphlike figure was several magnitudes thinner than mine — multiple petticoats and even silk stockings with frilly garters. With my hair piled high into an elaborate twist, the girl now staring wide-eyed in the mirror, bore only a passing resemblance to the orphaned waif of the prior week. “That’s me?” I marveled.

Internally though, I was wracked with nervous doubt. Louisa — bless her deviant heart — had the perfect cure for my jitters. Ordering me to place my unshod foot upon the ticking, Ellie then supported my lower torso. My hems were lifted. Sinking to her knees, Louisa burrowed under my borrowed finery. The first touch of her calloused fingers on the backs of my thighs made me start. Ellie tightened her grip as my head lolled onto her shoulder. I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment when Louisa lowered first my drawers, then my girdled padding. “What are you doing? I’m ble—”

Lowering my voice, I hissed with mixed emotions. “I’m bleeding!” A matter-of-fact, “So?” was all Louisa said as her nimble tongue followed the righteous path blazed by her sturdy hands. Soon they were working me over in tandem. Muffled snuffles made me giggle, but two slender digits slipping into my slippery pussy made me gasp with surprise. Whatever shame I still felt was soon swept aside by rising lust. This was not a leisurely poke on a lazy afternoon; Louisa was determined to frig me off in a hurry. My clit hardened. My nipples engorged. Tangy musk permeated the room.

I was proud of my tight purse, the friction growing hotter as she increased her tempo, slamming her palm against my swollen lips with each inward thrust. The slurpy sounds made me aware of how soaked Louisa’s hand must be. For some reason, I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment. That was subsumed with rapture when the straining tips of her nimble fingers rubbed a place deep inside. I instinctively tilted my pelvis, begging as I did so. “Again. Right there. Oh. Oh. Yes. Harder.” Waves of contractions crashed over my nerves, muscles tightened, clamping down as my orgasm crested.

It broke on the shore of hedonism. I gave a strangled scream, choked off with held breath as my climax rolled on and on; the white frothy comber sweeping all thought before its relentless power. It wasn’t until we were walking down the last flight of stairs — me on shaky legs and Louisa still licking her chops — that I realized my borrowed silk drawers were missing. Louisa gave me a wink and a nudge. “He’s only got two hours with you, Ruby, I think he should have easier access, don’t you think?” Despite the padding, my thighs were very damp.

The thought of Chester nuzzling me down there caused a fresh spurt of moisture. I moaned. “What is he going to think of me?” She patted my bustled behind whispering, after she nipping my earlobe, “He’ll think he’s a dashed lucky cove for having such a randy piece for a fiancée.” She gave me a sharp jab, like an angry goose; my bottom awoke and peered round seeking more pinches. What I got was more teasing. “I can’t wait to see you… flat on your back. Knees pinned to your shoulders and Mr. Jones-Smyth pounding your messy quim into meringue.”

I staggered; her words — and my vivid imagination — sent another climax ripping through my pussy. “You won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” Louisa’s laugh was low and evil sounding. “Maybe after he’s done fucking you senseless, I’ll be able to push my entire hand up your creamy cunt and show him how rough you like to be treated.” My groan was pitiful. “Please, Louisa. No more. I’m about to combust.” Saved from likely self-immolation by the dashing bloke himself, who popped to his feet as we entered the front parlor, I managed a wobbly, but credible, curtsy.

The bouquet was lovely. I searched out a vase, my automatic response as servant eliciting a giggle from Louisa and an arched brow from Chester. He deftly inserted conversational remarks about the weather [the geese were happy this morning] my outfit [the colors brought out the highlights in my eyes] Louisa’s ruddy health [such a delightful contrast to fragile porcelain] and with steady social banter, managed to guide both of us to the waiting coach. It was a struggle, but I managed to both keep my feet and wits from stumbling. “Will you be our whip this afternoon?” I blushed.

He laughed at my faux pas, giving us a hand up, each in turn. “No, dearest one, I shall seize the moment to relinquish the reins… and whip, to instead sacrifice the fresh air and drama of driving for the opportunity to ride inside two beautiful ladies of my recent acquaintance.” His double entendre made us titter like choirgirls. I didn’t know much about carriages or horses, but it had four wheels, an enclosure and a driver who was seemingly impatient to get rolling. Thus began my first liaison; complete with a duenna of dubious worth, as events soon proved.

“So, where are we taking us, Chester? Are the roads passable?” I sat across from him, facing forward, Louisa at my side. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, to your latter question and, I thought I would show you one of our — my — factories that is fairly close by.” He nudged the bulging hamper on the floor with his foot. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring some provisions for a light repast, should you be so inclined.” I smiled too, a little ruefully. “Normally, I’d never turn down tea—” Louisa interrupted, “Or a man offering to take liberties with your person.”

I smacked her arm as I continued, “—al fresco, but this blasted corset has squashed my liver to paste.” Louisa honked in mirth. “And besides…” I hesitated until he encouraged me to explain. I gazed out the window with blushing cheeks. “I’m… I’m having my monthly.” His inscrutable expression reminded me of when my late mother would play cards, late at night, with some friends of hers. I’d watch from my cot, thin blanket pulled tightly around my head, as they gossiped and bluffed the hours away, pretending for a short time that the wolf was at someone else’s door.

I was yanked from my poignant memory by his serious and thoughtful response. “Rest assured, Ruby, I will not banish you to a red tent every four weeks out of some belief you are unclean. Your cycle is part of the natural order of life.” My heart flipped cartwheels at his declaration. He reached over and clasped my hand. “As my wife, you will be accorded all due respect and courtesy inherent to your position.” The imp perverse couldn’t resist tweaking. “Even when that position is over your knee?” I squawked when he swiftly slung me across his broad lap.

He fumbled with my voluminous skirts then, with an exasperated command, ordered Louisa to assist in baring my bottom. “But I can’t be spanked!” The carriage swayed as it rounded a corner, and his hands reached out to steady us both. “Why ever not, Ruby?” I craned my neck around trying to express my earnestness. “Mrs. Cleanknockers said that no maid is to be disciplined during her time of the month.” I pleaded with Louisa. “Tell him it’s the truth.” Rather petulantly, I thought, she reluctantly corroborated my explanation. “So you see, Chester, you shan’t spank me today.” He pinched.

I squealed. “If you put your glove back on, sir, you’ll be able to give Ruby a right sound thrashing for her impertinence. I certainly won’t rat you out to Mrs. Cleanknockers.” Louisa sounded so sweetly innocent. “Don’t listen to her, Chester, she just wants to see my bottom turn red.” The leather covered hand he stroked across my upturned cheeks felt as soft as silk. “Do you offer an alternative, Ruby?” I waggled said cheeks, impatient for him to probe deeper into the dark dell. “Well…” My voice was triumphant. “I offer you my handmaiden and whipping girl instead!”

“What?” shrieked Louisa, “I shall not be beaten in your place, Ruby! You are a cruel and wicked mistress.” The driver called out, “We’ve arrived, sir,” saving her from imminent defilement. The rocking motion ceased, Chester lifted me to my feet. I shook out my skirts and plumped back down in my original place next to Louisa, who gave me a murderous stare. As he hopped out, reaching in to snatch the hamper, I squeezed her fingers in warning and winked. “This isn’t over, Ruby,” she hissed in annoyance. I whispered just as he offered his hand, “How about sex?”

The buildings were quite impressive. Grimy red brick, ivy growing in wild profusion interspersed with wild roses; the complex stretched along the river and up the hillsides. “This is all yours?” Something fleeting and indecipherable passed over his face before he gave a tight, little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “This, and multiple others elsewhere in Britain.” I dismissed the shadows in his expression and nattered gaily as we strolled in the copse of above the placid millrace. Reaching a stone outcropping, he snapped out a folded blanket and opened the hamper. We arranged ourselves: a trio of strangers.

Strangers I say, and strangers I meant. We conversed as we nibbled cheese and bread; sipped cider and lemonade. We were awkward; Peacock House hovered over us like the dark storm gathering in the southeast. Before the first splatters of precipitation blew over the manufactory complex, we were snugly settled back in our coach, and headed towards Lower Bumhampton. My earlier rash statement lingered like an overripe pear. “If that’s what want, Ruby, I’ll do it.” Louisa sudden outburst startled both Chester and I. We began to answer, “Wha—”: he deferred to me with studied gesture. I nodded my thanks.

“What do mean, Louisa?” My tone was soft and compassionate. “You know. What you said before. About me being your whipping girl.” I laid my cheek on her rigid shoulder. “Oh, my darling, please forgive me. I was being petulant and naughty.” I kissed her gently. “I did not mean my rash words.” Some of the tension seeped from her frame. “But…” I grasped her face, turning it towards me. “But?” She met my intense gaze briefly, lowering her eyes to speak. “But what if I want it.” She looked back up with a troubled frown. “To be spanked. Fucked.”

The smoldering sensuality never far beneath my skin roared to life at her words. For once, caution held my tongue in check. I tipped her chin to mine: we communicated for long minutes silently until I was satisfied she was sincere. “On your feet, whipping girl.” My harsh voice lashed the placid air. Our conveyance swayed, Louisa teetered and half fell/was assisted over my knees. Her single layer of dress with a thin shift was yanked above her waist; her plump bottom cringed in anticipation. “Sir?” I addressed Chester. “I apologize for my uncouth behavior earlier and offer this recompense.”

He scooted forward to the edge of his seat; his boots anchored against our bench for stability. His gloved hands prodded and squeezed the bountiful flesh splayed out for his use. SMACK! SMACK! The first blows made her jump and catch her breath with a short squeak. As he liberally peppered her bared globes, I stroked her hair with one hand and the other resting on her bowed back. I avidly watched the milky skin turn steadily darker, a sunset on a hot summer’s evening, when the vivid colors draw your enraptured gaze heavenward. “So that’s how you spank hard!”

I could tell he was not using his full strength. Even so, it was an impressive display of martial prowess. It was enough to make me forget she was actually across my lap, so focused on her red bottom were we. Chester paused and shook his right hand with a rueful glance. “Even with the leather, it stings my palm.” Louisa shook as well, I think with laughter, for her tone was light. “Stings? Sir, you should see it from my vantage point.” He and I chorused in unison, “We are!” then burst into companionable chuckles. “It looks very painful.”

This time her voice was one of wounded dignity. “That’s because it is painful!” I rubbed her hot skin. “Poor baby. Maybe next time you’ll behave.” She harrumphed and wiggled her rump. “Does that mean you want more?” She pressed her butt higher. “Alright then, Chester, spank her another ten times and make them very hard.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Louisa cried out with each one and, when he finished, gave a little hip shimmy as she tried in vain to cast off the sharp sting in her tail. “Let that be a lesson.”

Alas, my whipping girl learned nothing about proper decorum for — no sooner had she rolled upright — she sank to her haunches and freed the lump that had grown in Chester’s trousers. His cock sprang out like Punch, as Judy likely did backstage, she devoured his stiff truncheon whole. Louisa made the most peculiar noises, growling and snuffling as if rooting for truffles. Bobbing up and down with evident enthusiasm, I thought she intended to swallow his seed, but instead — popping off with a loud ‘slurp’ — she spun around to face me, eyes hazed with lust and whipped up her skirts.

“Fuck me!” was all she screamed before clamping her mouth on mine. Three souls linked, I fancied I could taste their mingled juices and feel his cock pounding her from behind like an animal. It was raw, primitive and rough. Jolting through ruts, splashing through mud, the exterior world ceased to exist as the scent of sex drove us home. Frantic, she kissed me, her tongue trying to pull me inside her moaning mouth. As he stammered he was about to spend, in a flourish of lace, we were suddenly side-by-side on the floor, his pulsing cock spraying our faces.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 30)

“Fuck me!” was all she screamed before clamping her mouth on mine. Three souls linked, I fancied I could taste their mingled juices and feel his cock pounding her from behind like an animal. It was raw, primitive and rough. Jolting through ruts, splashing through mud, the exterior world ceased to exist as the scent of sex drove us home. Frantic, she kissed me, her tongue trying to pull me inside her moaning mouth. As he stammered he was about to spend, in a flourish of lace, we were suddenly side-by-side on the floor, his pulsing cock spraying our faces.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 29)

Alas, my whipping girl learned nothing about proper decorum for — no sooner had she rolled upright — she sank to her haunches and freed the lump that had grown in Chester’s trousers. His cock sprang out like Punch, as Judy likely did backstage, she devoured his stiff truncheon whole. Louisa made the most peculiar noises, growling and snuffling as if rooting for truffles. Bobbing up and down with evident enthusiasm, I thought she intended to swallow his seed, but instead — popping off with a loud ‘slurp’ — she spun around to face me, eyes hazed with lust and whipped up her skirts.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 28)

This time her voice was one of wounded dignity. “That’s because it is painful!” I rubbed her hot skin. “Poor baby. Maybe next time you’ll behave.” She harrumphed and wiggled her rump. “Does that mean you want more?” She pushed her butt higher. “Alright then, Chester, spank her another ten times and make them very hard.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Louisa cried out with each one and, when finished, she gave a little hip shimmy as she tried in vain to cast off the sharp sting in her tail. “Let that be a lesson.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 27)

I could tell he was not using his full strength. Even so, it was an impressive display of martial prowess. It was enough to make me forget she was actually across my lap, so focused on her red bottom were we. Chester paused and shook his right hand with a rueful glance. “Even with the leather, it stings my palm.” Louisa shook as well, I think with laughter, for her tone was light. “Stings? Sir, you should see it from my vantage point.” He and I chorused in unison, “We are!” then burst into companionable chuckles. “It looks very painful.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 26)

He scooted forward to the edge of his seat; his boots anchored against our bench for stability. His gloved hands prodded and squeezed the bountiful flesh splayed out for his use. SMACK! SMACK! The first blows made her jump and catch her breath with a short squeak. As he liberally peppered her bared globes, I stroked her hair with one hand and the other resting on her bowed back. I avidly watched the milky skin turn steadily darker, a sunset on a hot summer’s evening, when the vivid colors draw your enraptured gaze heavenward. “So that’s how you spank hard!”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 25)

The smoldering sensuality never far beneath my skin roared to life at her words. For once, caution held my tongue in check. I tipped her chin to mine: we communicated for long minutes silently until I was satisfied she was sincere. “On your feet, whipping girl.” My harsh voice lashed the placid air. Our conveyance swayed, Louisa teetered and half fell/was assisted over my knees. Her single layer of dress with a thin shift was yanked above her waist; her plump bottom cringed in anticipation. “Sir?” I addressed Chester. “I apologize for my uncouth behavior earlier and offer this recompense.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 24)

“What do mean, Louisa?” My tone was soft and compassionate. “You know. What you said before. About me being your whipping girl.” I laid my cheek on her rigid shoulder. “Oh, my darling, please forgive me. I was being petulant and naughty.” I kissed her gently. “I did not mean my rash words.” Some of the tension seeped from her frame. “But…” I grasped her face, turning it towards me. “But?” She met my intense gaze briefly, lowering her eyes to speak. “But what if I want it.” She looked back up with a troubled frown. “To be spanked. Fucked.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 23)

Strangers I say, and strangers I meant. We conversed as we nibbled cheese and bread; sipped cider and lemonade. We were awkward; Peacock House hovered over us like the dark storm gathering in the southeast. Before the first splatters of precipitation blew over the manufactory complex, we were snugly settled back in our coach, and headed towards Lower Bumhampton. My earlier rash statement lingered like an overripe pear. “If that’s what want, Ruby, I’ll do it.” Louisa sudden outburst startled both Chester and I. We began to answer, “Wha—”: he deferred to me with studied gesture. I nodded my thanks.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 22)

The buildings were quite impressive. Grimy red brick, ivy growing in wild profusion interspersed with wild roses; the complex stretched along the river and up the hillsides. “This is all yours?” Something fleeting and indecipherable passed over his face before he gave a tight, little smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “This, and multiple others elsewhere in Britain.” I dismissed the shadows in his expression and nattered gaily as we strolled in the copse of above the placid millrace. Reaching a stone outcropping, he snapped out a folded blanket and opened the hamper. We arranged ourselves: a trio of strangers.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 21)

“What?” shrieked Louisa, “I shall not be beaten in your place, Ruby! You are a cruel and wicked mistress.” The driver called out, “We’ve arrived, sir,” saving her from imminent defilement. The rocking motion ceased, Chester lifted me to my feet. I shook out my skirts and plumped back down in my original place next to Louisa, who gave me a murderous stare. As he hopped out, reaching in to snatch the hamper, I squeezed her fingers in warning and winked. “This isn’t over, Ruby,” she hissed in annoyance. I whispered just as he offered his hand, “How about sex?”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 20)

I squealed. “If you put your glove back on, sir, you’ll be able to give Ruby a right sound thrashing for her impertinence. I certainly won’t rat you out to Mrs. Cleanknockers.” Louisa sounded so sweetly innocent. “Don’t listen to her, Chester, she just wants to see my bottom turn red.” The leather covered hand he stroked across my upturned cheeks felt as soft as silk. “Do you offer an alternative, Ruby?” I waggled said cheeks, impatient for him to probe deeper into the dark dell. “Well…” My voice was triumphant. “I offer you my handmaiden and whipping girl instead!”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 19)

He fumbled with my voluminous skirts then, with an exasperated command, ordered Louisa to assist in baring my bottom. “But I can’t be spanked!” The carriage swayed as it rounded a corner, and his hands reached out to steady us both. “Why ever not, Ruby?” I craned my neck around trying to express my earnestness. “Mrs. Cleanknockers said that no maid is to be disciplined during her time of the month.” I pleaded with Louisa. “Tell him it’s the truth.” Rather petulantly, I thought, she reluctantly corroborated my explanation. “So you see, Chester, you shan’t spank me today.” He pinched.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 18)

I was yanked from my poignant memory by his serious and thoughtful response. “Rest assured, Ruby, I will not banish you to a red tent every four weeks out of some belief you are unclean. Your cycle is part of the natural order of life.” My heart flipped cartwheels at his declaration. He reached over and clasped my hand. “As my wife, you will be accorded all due respect and courtesy inherent to your position.” The imp perverse couldn’t resist tweaking. “Even when that position is over your knee?” I squawked when he swiftly slung me across his broad lap.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 17)

I smacked her arm as I continued. “—al fresco, but this blasted corset has squashed my liver to paste.” Louisa honked in mirth. “And besides…” I hesitated until he encouraged me to continue. I gazed out the window as I spoke. “I’m… I’m having my monthly.” His inscrutable expression reminded me of when my late mother would play cards, late at night, with some friends of hers. I’d watch from my bed, blanket pulled tightly around my head, as they gossiped and bluffed the hours away, pretending for a short time that the wolf was at someone else’s door.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 16)

“So, where are we taking us, Chester? Are the roads passable?” I sat across from him, facing forward, Louisa at my side. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, to your latter question and, I thought I would show you one of our, my, factories that is fairly close by.” He nudged the hamper on the floor with his foot. “I’ve taken the liberty of procuring some provisions for a light repast, should you be so inclined.” I smiled too, a little ruefully. “Normally, I’d never turn down tea—” Louisa interrupted, “Or a man offering to take liberties with your person.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 15)

He laughed at my faux pas, giving us a hand up, each in turn. “No, dearest one, I shall seize the moment to relinquish the reins… and whip, to instead sacrifice the fresh air and drama of driving for the opportunity to ride inside two beautiful ladies of my recent acquaintance.” His double entendre made us titter like choirgirls. I didn’t know much about carriages or horses, but it had four wheels, an enclosure and a driver who was seemingly impatient to get rolling. Thus began my first liaison; complete with a duenna of dubious worth, as events soon proved.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 14)

The bouquet was lovely. I searched out a vase, my automatic response as servant eliciting a giggle from Louisa and an arched brow from Chester. He deftly inserted conversational remarks about the weather [the geese were happy this morning] my outfit [the colors brought out the highlights in my eyes] Louisa’s ruddy health [such a delightful contrast to fragile porcelain] and with steady social banter, managed to guide both of us to the waiting coach. It was a struggle, but I managed to both keep my feet and wits from stumbling. “Will you be our whip this afternoon?” I blushed.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 13)

I staggered; her words — and my vivid imagination — sent another climax ripping through my pussy. “You won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” Louisa’s laugh was low and evil sounding. “Maybe after he’s done fucking you senseless, I’ll be able to push my entire hand up your creamy cunt and show him how rough you like to be treated.” My groan was pitiful. “Please, Louisa. No more. I’m about to combust.” Saved from likely self-immolation by the dashing bloke himself, who popped to his feet as we entered the front parlor, I managed a wobbly, but credible, curtsy.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 12)

The thought of Chester nuzzling me down there caused a fresh spurt of moisture. I moaned. “What is he going to think of me?” She patted my bustled behind whispering, after she nipping my earlobe, “He’ll think he’s a dashed lucky cove for having such a randy piece for a fiancée.” She gave me a sharp jab, like an angry goose; my bottom awoke and peered round seeking more pinches. What I got was more teasing. “I can’t wait to see you… flat on your back. Knees pinned to your shoulders and Mr. Jones-Smyth pounding your messy quim into meringue.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 11)

It broke on the shore of hedonism. I gave a strangled scream, choked off with held breath as my climax rolled on and on; the white frothy comber sweeping all thought before its relentless power. It wasn’t until we were walking down the last flight of stairs — me on shaky legs and Louisa still licking her chops — that I realized my borrowed silk drawers were missing. Louisa gave me a wink and a nudge. “He’s only got two hours with you, Ruby, I think he should have easier access, don’t you think?” Despite the padding, my thighs were very damp.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 10)

I was proud of my tight purse, the friction growing hotter as she increased her tempo, slamming her palm against my swollen lips with each inward thrust. The slurpy sounds made me aware of how soaked Louisa’s hand must be. For some reason, I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment. That was subsumed with rapture when the straining tips of her nimble fingers rubbed a place deep inside. I instinctively tilted my pelvis, begging as I did so. “Again. Right there. Oh. Oh. Yes. Harder.” Waves of contractions crashed over my nerves, muscles tightened, clamping down as my orgasm crested.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 9)

Lowering my voice, I hissed with mixed emotions. “I’m bleeding!” A matter-of-fact, “So?” was all she said as Louisa’s nimble tongue followed the path blazed by her sturdy hands. Soon they were working me over in tandem. Muffled snuffles made me giggle, but two slender digits slipping into my slippery pussy made me gasp with surprise. Whatever shame I still felt was soon swept aside by rising lust. This was not a leisurely poke on a lazy afternoon; Louisa was determined to frig me off in a hurry. My clit hardened. My nipples engorged. Tangy musk permeated the room.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 8)

Internally though, I was wracked with nervous doubt. Louisa — bless her deviant heart — had the perfect cure for my jitters. Ordering me to place my unshod foot upon the ticking, Ellie then supported my lower torso. My hems were lifted. Sinking to her knees, Louisa burrowed under my borrowed finery. The first touch of her calloused fingers on the backs of my thighs made me start. Ellie tightened her grip as my head lolled onto her shoulder. I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment when Louisa lowered first my drawers, then my girdled padding. “What are you doing? I’m ble—”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 7)

Nearly lost beneath a puffy mound of silk and lace, was Miss Frothinglips’ personal maid, Ellie. “My mistress sent me with this loan of a gown.” Any trepidation over her possible motive instantly turned to greed. In a trice, Louisa and Ellie had me trussed into stays — Miss Frothinglips’ sylphlike figure was several magnitudes thinner than mine — multiple petticoats and even silk stockings with frilly garters. With my hair piled high into an elaborate twist, the girl now staring wide-eyed in the mirror, bore only a passing resemblance to the orphaned waif of the prior week. “That’s me?” I marveled.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 6)

I paused to glare at her. There was no heat in my expression. Pouting in the small mirror, my voice was sulky. “I want him proud to be seen with me.” I spun back to face Louisa, pleading for her understanding. “A man of his social stature needs a helpmeet of impeccable grooming and manners.” Her response was a derisive snort of mocking laughter. “Will the introductions take place before or after he’s whipped and fucked you into submission?” I raised my hand. She was spared a good bare-bottomed beating over my knee by a timid knock on the door.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 5)

I was loath to ask for an advance, and the few shillings I brought with me to Peacock House wouldn’t even purchase a yard of ribbon, never mind fabric for a new frock. Louisa attempted to soothe my fret as I paced our room, oft-darned shift twitching with every impatient spin. “I don’t have anything to wear!” My plaintive wail was so unlike my normal disposition a part of me mockingly chided my immaturity. “Ruby, Mr. Jones-Smyth won’t give a fig about your attire. Look at me! Compared to you, I’m a drab hen in the shadow of your plumage.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 4)

After luncheon I changed my padding. Thankfully I was only lightly flowing and had only minor symptoms from the assortment of ailments the woman’s curse brought each double fortnight. I resolved not to mention my courses to Chester, unless his hands strayed toward my southern hemispheres. I fretted over what to wear — or not to wear. We only had two hours together. I didn’t want to be seen as a frivolous, vacuous female; but I cared about my appearance. My wages had yet to be paid for the first week: at month’s end thirty pieces of silver creased my palm.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 3)

It is said the sensual and spiritual cannot co-exist, yet, unrepentant sinner that I am, I do not feel my prayers vanish unheard into the void. Unheeded perhaps: but not unremarked. By the time I trudged back, in silent company with those who had joined in raising voice in hymn, my entreaties seemed to have had an effect. Coyly peering around sullen ranks of stern, grey clouds, frowning in displeasure at Sabbath activities, was the welcome disk of golden sun bathing me in warm benediction. One must seize signs when they occur. To do otherwise mires the soul in hopelessness.

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 2)

Church services were not mandatory, but I’ve always found the liturgy soothing and the sermons to be comforting. Peacock House had a family chapel, but the village of Lower Bumhampton was within easy walking distance. My boots were soiled, my soul in mortal peril, but my heart danced on rainbows. I was going riding with my lovers; my mind turned wicked envisioning the possibilities of three enclosed in private carriage. I searched my conscience, but found no jealousy at the thought of Chester fucking Louisa. I am sure having wet drawers in church is a sin, but how can love?

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 12 (Part 1)

Gentle Reader: Sunday erupted with a flourish of cornets and thunder of timpani. The birds were chirping sweet melodies as I shook a grumbling Louisa awake. “It’s time to get up! Our chariot awaits.” Alas for poor Ruby. In truth it was pouring. Typical dank English weather and the roads would be a quagmire for coaches. No matter: if we stiff upper-lipped Britains cowered at the sight of mere liquid from the skies, we’d never have ruled such a vast Empire. “Forward Louisa! Once more unto the breach.” She whacked me with her pillow. I yanked her off the cot.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Complete Chapter 11

If you like The Bumhampton Chronicles, and its Victorian-era atmosphere, then you may be interested my novella, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

To purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine, click the picture.

Gentle Reader: I would surmise by this portion of my smutty tale, you believe nothing at Peacock House would shake me. That would be an incorrect assumption. In my era, even the most cloistered girl living under the strictest spiritual discipline, did not have to be taught a female’s place was under the male. That the roles could be reversed — that was beyond my comprehension. Yet here I was, once more on my knees, preparing for debauchery unlike anything I’d previously witnessed. Of course, with my wanton nature, simply watching was never going to work. I was ready and willing.

After I pulled the straps tight between Miss Frothinglips’ thighs, up through her crack and snuggly around her waspish waist, I felt certain I was to be dismissed and, even rose unbidden to my feet to depart rather than be privy to my betters’ sinful intercourse. I should have known better: I did know better. Miss Frothinglips’ donned a figurative top hat, and commenced snapping out orders with all the crispness of a whip-wielding circus ringmaster. Albeit, one with an artificial phallus jutting aggressively above a soaking quim and bare bosom exposing hard nipples. “Ruby! Quit dawdling and prepare Sebastian.”

At my blank look, she rolled her eyes and repeated with exaggerated pronunciation and gestures as if I was the town’s witless fool, “Strip. Him. Naked. Now!” I could hear the lash in her voice, but having never before in my entire life encountered male garments still on the male, I made a right hash of things. Mr. Steedstiff resorted, through self-preservation I assume, to removing articles himself. No matter, in short order he was as naked as Adam — sans fig leaf — trumpeting a tremendous erection. A prodigious expanse of greenery would have been required for cover. I covetously stroked.

“Finally,” Miss Frothinglips huffed. “Suckle and make it wet.” I sank to my knees and used both hands to grasp his bobbing prick. Opening my mouth to engulf the wet, shiny tip peeping from its sheath, she stepped closer and yanked my head away. “Not his cock, you dolt. Mine!” She slapped my face with her leather appliance for good measure. “Spit shine my knob, Ruby, before I plunder his arse.” She poked my lips and jabbed inside with remorseless pressure. I fear to say, she used me ill then. I choked and slobbered as she thrust into my throat.

For all the often brutality of males, when given the chance, it was females who serviced me the harsher every time. No matter, I thrived on such treatment and, in any case, she was too eager to wait much longer. After a few more pokes, while I held my breath, she withdrew from my drenched mouth. Her voice dropped an octave, the cool soprano thrill deepening into a rough gutter patois. “Suck his arsehole, Ruby. Use that talented tongue to pry open his bum for my weapon of ass destruction.” I helped him bend over, fist tight round his cock.

By now, I was the billiard ball to their cues; caroming from cushions to pockets with each strike. My tongue furry with his funk, she bade me grasp her dildo and guide the way into his tight fundament. His rod softened under her assault: I became superfluous to their lust. Each spoke as if on stage, actors reciting memorized lines flung out to mesmerized audiences night after night. I did not care to record the banter. Indeed, I felt a tad sorry for Mr. Steedstiff — who winced every time Miss Frothinglips drove her thick prick home with a loud slap.

Crawling beneath him, I nursed his weeping cock to life. With his slimy and tasty organ firmly ensconced in my mouth, I practiced my throating technique. For once unencumbered by supervision, my free hand succored my pussy. The scents, the sounds, the pure uninhibited lust brought me to a rolling boil, my essence squirting copiously and continuously. Mr. Steedstiff’s cloying spend I savored before swallowing with eagerness for more. I will say this in closing: From that moment forward, I ceased to play the role of hapless victim and was drawn into the many plots being woven all around me.

After I drained Mr. Steedstiff’s family jewels and Miss Frothinglips fully satiated her carnal appetites, I was finally released from service. My reward: to take the soiled dildo away to be cleaned — by me. I left the two furtive lovers to their devices; they commenced a game of ring-around-the-rosie, each lashing whips as they frolicked starkers. There were always rumors floating around amongst the hoi polloi about the ‘Great Houses’, but to witness firsthand the ways and means of aristocratic stress relief was rather disconcerting. As I scrubbed the used dildo in hot, soapy water I pondered why that was.

It’s a myth that only the upper classes strove to maintain the separation and status quo. Each rung of the servant ladder was fiercely contested as a matter of pride and place. The ruthless rulers of the “downstairs” — such as Mrs. Cleanknockers and Alastair the Butler — were as rigid about propriety as the stuffiest dowager or crusty titled lord. I know, I know, considering the sexual hijinks at Peacock House, it’s rather ironic. Speaking of the butler, I’d yet to make his acquaintance — in a naked way — a fact soon to change, for Saturday night was bathing time for staff.

In atypical fashion, procedures were inverted. Mrs. Cleanknockers bathed first, assisted by the head footman all the way down to the scullery boy. Alastair went next, the harem of giggling maids washing him with exuberance. Once the principals were nattily attired in dressing gowns and slippers, Mrs. Cleanknockers supervised the male servants in rank order. [Not rank odor] After they were clean — a hands-on inspection by her — fresh hot water filled the copper tubs and Alastair did similar close checking of all the nude female servants to the last in line. That was I, the newest and only bleeding member.

By then, everyone had left to enjoy an early evening without chores — other than the basic needs of any large establishment. The water was cool and dirty, but Alastair didn’t shirk, scrubbing and soaping my body from head to toes. I must admit to enjoying the process, his hands rubbed all the right spots. I wasn’t at Peacock House long enough to move more than a few rungs higher in priority, so I greatly enjoyed getting the chance to suck his cock once a week while it lasted. I hadn’t planned to do so, but I wanted to thank him.

After all, fondling and probing several dozen wet, naked females would make even the most uptight vicar stand up and point. He definitely seemed surprised when, after wrapping me in a fresh dry towel, I knelt on the damp rug and smoothly parted his gown at the waist. Having slightly more experience now in the ‘sizing up’ department, his cock was a nice squat five-incher. Perfect for swallowing whole. Alastair was stiff — in stance, not only genitalia — as I swirled my tongue and bobbed to and fro; my nose buried in his clean curlies while I savored with hollowed cheeks.

I couldn’t help but compare cock sucking with cunt lapping. It really drove home — as I stretched my throat — the differences between the sexes. I can honestly state I had no preference. Each time, with each different person was a completely new experience; one that I almost always enjoyed. And I most deliciously enjoyed Alastair’s copious spunk, the thickest volume I’d yet received as tribute. Evidently he seldom cleaned his pipes. I told him I’d gladly service him after the weekly washing. “It will be our little secret.” I wiped him off, tucked it back inside and closed the sash.

“Mrs. Cleanknockers would like a word with you, Ruby, posthaste.” His cool restrained tone would have seemed abnormal in most circumstances — never mind just after holding his jetting tumescence firmly in my mouth — but an English butler never loses his composure: even when he just, ‘did it’. It’s an awesome thing to witness and well worth the price of admission. So — like the dutiful demure maid I was — I gave him a saucy wink and trotted off to see my Mistress, wondering what she had in store for me. Hopefully some cruelly inventive punishment: having my period sucked donkey’s balls.

Firing off a crisp salute, I reported my status. “Ruby Slapumcheeks, present as requested, Ma’am! Ready and willing to serve your every whim.” Mrs. Cleanknockers made a sound. It was part sigh — akin to exasperation — and part involuntary giggle [like when someone farts in church]. “Sit down, Ruby.” Her attempt at being stern was slightly compromised by her failure to fully corral her smile. I did not press the issue. What! I can be good… when someone has something I want… or need. I desperately needed to be humiliated. Like an opium eater, I craved the feelings of being dominated.

At the time, I did not closely examine my desires. All I knew was that being punished and used sexually — the more callously the better — calmed my mind and set my body afire. It took months for the conflagration to reduce to a smolder and, for the rest of my life it took but a look or a threat to spark the beast back to roaring flames. Please understand; the process was not without guilt and tragedy. After the initial euphoria inevitably wore away under the pressure of routine life and events, it was years before I recaptured the thrill.

But enough cryptic rambling, Mrs. Cleanknockers had an agenda. “I am concerned about tomorrow’s outing with Mr. Jones-Smyth.” I scowled and crossed my arms. “Do not pout, Ruby, I am responsible for your well-being. I have raised my concerns with his Lordship, but he assures me the man has been fully vetted. However…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze slid past me into some infinite vista. Troubled by her demeanor, I attempted to coax forth the reasons behind her misgivings. “Does your perturbation stem from the other day, when he took my virginity?” She winced but fleetingly. “No, Ruby.”

“I admit I was, still am, upset that he savagely ravaged you—.” Under my breath I interrupted, “I’m not.” as she continued, “without our consent.” [Meaning his Lordship, the aristocratic ‘We’ implied] “However, from the very first time, months before you arrived, something about Mr. Jones-Smyth has rubbed me raw.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, intrigued despite my infatuation with and instinctive determination to defend my future spouse. “You have aroused my curiosity, Ma’am, for I admit to primarily having a physical reaction to him, not an intellectual response. I hope to have that opportunity tomorrow; weather permitting.”

“I will not rescind my permission, Ruby, I assure you. Please be… both you and Louisa… careful and vigilant.” Mrs. Cleanknockers seemed genuinely distressed on our behalves and I was moved to grasp her hands with a comforting gesture. “I will. We will. I promise.” Our tableau held for a long moment as she searched my expression for sincerity. “Thank you, Ruby. I must admit to being relieved by your comprehension of my anxiety.” She withdrew her fingers and straightened up, instantly regaining the superior position in our relationship. “Now that we’ve settled the outing, there is another important topic.”

Mentally rubbing my palms, I kept my face still but curious. “We have concluded, that your training has been much too strenuous and therefore are letting you go—” I did not hear the rest of her sentence, lost in the overwhelming terror of being turned out. My loud howl was a desperate ‘NO!’ and I flung myself at her feet, weeping hysterically and begging for another chance. The fear I felt was real. The worst possible outcome for someone in service was to be dismissed without reference. Nothing penetrated my anguish until Mrs. Cleanknockers shook me hard by the shoulders.

“RUBY!” She yelled. “Cease your caterwauling at once!” It took several minutes, but eventually I stopped wailing and was able to gulp back my tears. My wet face was efficiently blotted and I blew my nose into her sturdy linen handkerchief. I don’t believe she quite understood my distress until she looked me in the eye. “Did you think I meant you were being turned out?” Her voice was one of astonishment. Mutely I nodded. “Oh, Ruby.” Her arms opened wide with compassion. “Come here, you poor thing.” I crawled upon her ample lap, burying my face at her breast.

As she patted and stroked my back, her explanation picked up where I had lost the thread. “What you apparently did not hear was that we are letting you go slower in your training. Ordinarily, most new servants take at least a month to reach your level of engagement, but from the first, your enthusiasm and cheekiness have spurred us to be too harsh in our discipline.” I did not agree, but how was I to make my desires clear? Certainly Miss Frothinglips and Mr. Steedstiff had no qualms about venting their lust upon my tongue. That was a pun.

“Mrs. Cleanknockers? May I speak truly?” I sat up, slid to the floor and gazed imploringly at my mistress. “Do not think I am seeking to rise above my station, but I cannot but let you understand, that I do not believe the discipline I’ve so deservedly earned, has been too harsh. On the contrary, I’ve come to realize it’s what’s been missing in my life. I have gratefully shed my past like an over-patched coat and wish — no, need — to be taken deeper in submission to you, his Lordship and whomever else is directed to further my libidinous education.”

Her reaction to my impassioned speech was thoughtful regard. “You are unique, Ruby. Never have I met such a forthright creature as you. It is refreshing and yet, at the same time, quite vexing.” I grinned. “Then spank me.” Her returning smile was regretful. “Sadly, I must wait.” I pouted. “It’s not fair. A hand spanking shouldn’t be against the rules just because it’s that time of the month.” Her smile turned harder. “You do make an excellent argument. The Empire could use you in Parliament.” I giggled at the thought of me asking ‘The Question’ of the Prime Minister.

“I’d cause an apoplexy epidemic were that to happen! Besides, the Queen will never countenance woman’s suffrage.” I continued to press for an answer. “Does that mean you’ll take me over your knee and spank my vexing bottom hard?” She glanced at the clock on her mantle. Her lips pursed. “Perhaps… Come with me, Ruby.” She threw on a heavier wrap and exchanged slippers for shoes. Unlocking the Gun Room, she lit the nearest lamp. I scurried behind her, pulse racing in anticipation. What she took out of a drawer I’d yet to explore, was not a paddle or cane.

“What is that?” Mrs. Cleanknockers held up the object in question. “This is what I like to call, ‘The Bosom Buster’.” Placing it my hands while she turned and rummaged in the drawer once more, I examined the fiendish device. Constructed of two thin planks of wood, both ends of the narrow boards were secured with dual brass grommets and long threaded screws with winged heads. Curious, I turned one of the flanges; the boards squeezed closer at that end. Realization dawned. I flushed. I gushed. “What a wonderful idea. Clamping the titties like a washing wringer! I love it!”

“Then you’ll like these even better.” From Mrs. Cleanknockers’ fingers dangled what looked like thumbscrews from Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress of the Tower of London. “Oooooh,” I cooed. “Are those for my nips?” Her grin this time would have sent strong warriors fleeing for their lives. Silly men. Pain was pleasure. What need of the vote, when we had breasts to punish? “You’ve been a very, very naughty maid, Ruby. I’m afraid your demerits have given me no choice but to discipline you most severely.” I shivered, not in fear — not wholly — but needing to feel her domination.

With those few words, spoken firmly with a touch of regret, she sent my mind spiraling into a place that yearned for chastisement. Others through the years have asked me to quantify why it is I love submission so much. I cannot tell you. I don’t think a submissive really can explain the joy and pleasure found in surrendering to someone who takes what they want of your body, giving you peace in exchange. For me, and others of my ilk, [We have a private club and name] the quiet mind is a result of, not a preface of discipline.

When Mrs. Cleanknockers ordered me onto the padded table, crouching as a bovine, udders swinging freely, teats erect; my anxious lowing was not feigned. The vise slowly closed, one twist of her thumb and forefinger inexorably squeezing my breasts like fresh dough. Her running commentary, scolding and alluring, alternated between scathing putdowns and complementary observations. When she attached the serrated clamps to my engorged nipples, I screamed. It’s that lightning flash of pain — the searing nervous heat that parboils away the scar tissue of life. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to be whipped. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted.

Louisa soothed my bruised bosom as we lay in our cots, quietly talking about the upcoming ramble with Mr. Jones-Smyth. To her — and only her — I freely expressed my fears. “I’m not good enough for him,” I fretted. “What have I to offer someone like that? I’m nobody from nowhere, without an education, a smart mouth and a promiscuous soul. He could do so much better.” She wrestled me over, pinning my hands with little effort. “Ruby, that’s your flow talking. Mr. Jones-Smyth seems like a very pleasant fellow, if a bit awkward. I’m sure he’ll be up to scratch.”

If this is your first exposure to Ruby’s adventures, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 30)

Louisa soothed my bruised bosom as we lay in our cots, quietly talking about the upcoming ramble with Mr. Jones-Smyth. To her — and only her — I freely expressed my fears. “I’m not good enough for him,” I fretted. “What have I to offer someone like that? I’m nobody from nowhere, without an education, a smart mouth and a promiscuous soul. He could do so much better.” She wrestled me over, pinning my hands with little effort. “Ruby, that’s your flow talking. Mr. Jones-Smyth seems like a very pleasant fellow, if a bit awkward. I’m sure he’ll be up to scratch.”

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 29)

When Mrs. Cleanknockers ordered me onto the padded table, crouching as a bovine, udders swinging freely, teats erect; my anxious lowing was not feigned. The vise slowly closed, one twist of her thumb and forefinger inexorably squeezing my breasts like fresh dough. Her running commentary, scolding and alluring, alternated between scathing putdowns and complementary observations. When she attached the serrated clamps to my engorged nipples, I screamed. It’s that lightning flash of pain — the searing nervous heat that parboils away the scar tissue of life. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to be whipped. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 28)

With those few words, spoken firmly with a touch of regret, she sent my mind spiraling into a place that yearned for chastisement. Others through the years have asked me to quantify why it is I love submission so much. I cannot tell you. I don’t think a submissive really can explain the joy and pleasure found in surrendering to someone who takes what they want of your body, giving you peace in exchange. For me, and others of my ilk, [We have a private club and name] the quiet mind is a result of, not a preface of discipline.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 27)

“Then you’ll like these even better.” From Mrs. Cleanknockers’ fingers dangled what looked like thumbscrews from Her Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress of the Tower of London. “Oooooh,” I cooed. “Are those for my nips?” Her grin this time would have sent strong warriors fleeing for their lives. Silly men. Pain was pleasure. What need of the vote, when we had breasts to punish? “You’ve been a very, very naughty maid, Ruby. I’m afraid your demerits have given me no choice but to discipline you most severely.” I shivered, not in fear — not wholly — but needing to feel her domination.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 26)

“What is that?” Mrs. Cleanknockers held up the object in question. “This is what I like to call, ‘The Bosom Buster’.” Placing it my hands while she turned and rummaged in the drawer once more, I examined the fiendish device. Constructed of two thin planks of wood, both ends of the narrow boards were secured with dual brass grommets and long threaded screws with winged heads. Curious, I turned one of the flanges; the boards squeezed closer at that end. Realization dawned. I flushed. I gushed. “What a wonderful idea. Clamping the titties like a washing wringer! I love it!”

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 25)

“I’d cause an apoplexy epidemic were that to happen! Besides, the Queen will never countenance women’s suffrage.” I continued to press for an answer. “Does that mean you’ll take me over your knee and spank my vexing bottom hard?” She glanced at the clock on her mantle. Her lips pursed. “Perhaps… Come with me, Ruby.” She threw on a heavier wrap and exchanged slippers for shoes. Unlocking the Gun Room, she lit the nearest lamp. I scurried behind her, pulse racing in anticipation. What she took out of a drawer I’d yet to explore, was not a paddle or cane.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 24)

Her reaction to my impassioned speech was thoughtful regard. “You are unique, Ruby. Never have I met such a forthright creature as you. It is refreshing and yet, at the same time, quite vexing.” I grinned. “Then spank me.” Her returning smile was regretful. “Sadly, I must wait.” I pouted. “It’s not fair. A hand spanking shouldn’t be against the rules just because it’s that time of the month.” Her smile turned harder. “You do make an excellent argument. The Empire could use you in Parliament.” I giggled at the thought of me asking ‘The Question’ of the Prime Minister.

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 11 (Part 23)

“Mrs. Cleanknockers? May I speak truly?” I sat up, slid to the floor and gazed imploringly at my mistress. “Do not think I am seeking to rise above my station, but I cannot but let you understand, that I do not believe the discipline I’ve so deservedly earned, has been too harsh. On the contrary, I’ve come to realize it’s what’s been missing in my life. I have gratefully shed my past like an over-patched coat and wish — no, need — to be taken deeper in submission to you, his Lordship and whomever else is directed to further my libidinous education.”

Rather than read each individual drabble, you can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters. For easier reading, once I have posted all 30 drabbles, I repost the entire chapter in 3,000 words.

  • Corrupted

    Now available, "Corrupted", an anthology from Sexy Little Pages, including my short story, Ghosting Past Emily. Click the picture for ebookstore links.

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    Click the picture to purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    In Byron Cane's Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel