The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 10 (Part 13)

Forcing her surrender had consequences, but even though in her frenzy she shoved me backwards arse-over-teakettle, inside I was smirking at her loss of control. Perhaps you believe I was naively being exploited, but I assure you, even then I knew my sensual prowess and submissiveness were the keys to a secure future. It was only fickle fortune that I loved every sexual aspect of unbridled lust. While awareness seeped back into her eyes, I remained seated on the floor awaiting her next desire. I pretended to notice neither her unsteady gait nor her destination of the enclosed water closet.

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 10 (Part 12)

I felt the ripples of her climax. She sprayed my face. A trembling hand clamped my skull. My open mouth forced to drink. My tongue delved deeper. Her pert bottom rose. I jabbed two fingers to replace my thumb lifting in unison with her gyrations. If she was still quiet, at least her body was not quiescent. Her writhing limbs, her rapid breath, the clenching of internal muscles all betrayed her lustful nature. How many consecutive orgasms I wrung from her oh-so-sophisticated aristocratic cunt, I do not now remember, but it was Miss Frothinglips who conceded the amatory field first.

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.

Here be Dragons!

beneath the down, warm slick ridges yield to pressure, fingers tracing the lines written with rattan
curving up the slope, straining for the summit, plunging off the crest deep into the shadowed depths
the geography of your body is a cartographer’s dream, all thoroughly explored by disciplined surveying

paper crackles when I step
an old Esso map
creases worn thin
a souvenir of our last road trip, back when we had few responsibilities and fewer cares, our only goals to fuck
then fuck some more

sliding under the covers, morning cock crowing, driving forward between the parted hillocks
remembering the first time we plunged into Terra Incognita, the dark tunnel resisting eager efforts
the hiss you make now, reminds me of the hot springs, a memory of long ago when a map still excited us

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Stephanie gets spanked and exposed

Last week I shared the beginning pages of The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie over on my other blog, Byron Cane Spanking and Erotic Fiction. The post is called WIP it Wednesday: A date with Stephanie. I will be sharing a longer excerpt tomorrow there, but today I wanted to share a couple of snippets here. [It will make more sense if you read last week’s post first, but it’s not mandatory.] Only a fortnight to go! That’s two weeks or fourteen days. My publisher, Clarian Press, calls The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie “An updated modern-day fairy tale romance with spanking.”

The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

Excerpt #1. [On the way to work]

Once more the heavy wooden brush spanked her quivering buttocks. Mr. Johnson hit much harder; the smacks and distressed cries echoed loudly in the enclosed space.
Unfortunately for the sniffling Stephanie, the elevator stopped at every floor going down. She blushed in humiliation as she explained to each new potential passenger that she was being a naughty girl… again. All of them smiled, waved to her neighbors, and said they’d wait for the next elevator. By the time the lobby was reached, her bottom under the peek-a-boo silk panties was a bright gleaming pink.
She composed herself as Mrs. Garcia congratulated Mr. Johnson for a ‘job well done’. After one final loud spank on her bottom, Stephanie fidgeted when they complimented the pretty color of her cheeks, and sighed when they finished with a close-up inspection and check of warmth by hand.

Excerpt #2. [Later that same day after work]

“I want you to lay on your back then scoot your bottom up high in air so that your tailbone rests on the arm of the couch. I’m going to put the pillow and towel underneath as you pull your legs back to your chest.” Stephanie made a small sound of protest at Mrs. Garcia’s instructions. “No, darling, I’m not going to spank you, although the diaper position is very effective in getting the point across. I’m going to oil your bottom with aloe and vitamin E like I always do.”
Stephanie had never felt so humiliated before. Thank goodness it wasn’t Mr. Johnson peering down at her wet, curly haired pussy and tiny puckered anus! She let out a long sigh though when the cooling lotion was rubbed into her tender skin.
Stephanie couldn’t help but feel tingly when Mrs. Garcia’s strong fingers spread her thighs even further apart and moved closer to all her moist, flushed nooks and crannies. She blushed and put her arm across her face when Mrs. Garcia teased, “Seems like a certain naughty girl is enjoying her treatment. I wonder if she is thinking about being spanked some more?”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 10 (Part 11)

My jaw began to ache. Other than heightened puffs of breathy inhalations, she made no vocalizations. Determined to provoke a reaction—I was used to Louisa’s earthy vocabulary and uninhibited passion—I slipped a finger into Miss Frothinglips narrow tight frontal passage. Wet heat clamped. I circled her swelled clit with my other thumb. Her thighs quivered. Still she was silent. The thumb moved lower. Her back portal was not virgin, even if her cunt had not been plundered by a prick. I rubbed my probing digits together, only a thin membrane between my tips. She slumped even further down.

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 10 (Part 10)

Lifting her pink peignoir, she revealed the dimpled valley and rumpled hillocks of her womanhood. Her rich scent complimented her floral perfume that she habitually daubed from a crystal jar. She did not speak. I did not hesitate. A fleeting thought as my tongue lapped her essence, perhaps their confusion is due to my eagerness. Her filmy silk garment enclosed my head like dove’s wings as any mental whimsy flitted away under the influence of her dewy flux. As I licked and swallowed her rich crème, I noted she tasted much different then Louisa. Likely a better diet, not breeding.

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 10 (Part 9)

At this I panicked. I was no ladies maid and knew nothing of the upper-class toilette. With short, even shy shuffling steps I was drawn by her coiling finger: closer and closer until her upraised palm halted me only inches away from her body. Her head, level with my bosom, cocked sideways peering up as I looked down. “Kneel.” There was no ‘please’ in her command. I knelt anyway. It was only as her thighs leisurely parted and her elbows went back to rest upon the table that I realized her intent. As punishments went, licking her cunt seemed benign.

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 10 (Part 8)

I bit my lip, hard. Protesting my innocence would only serve to deepen the apparent rift that had opened overnight. “Nothing else to say, Ruby?” My eyes finally clashed with her reflection. She was angry. Why, I could not fathom. “I apologize if I’ve given you offense, miss, for I know of no action of mine that would have caused your apparent disfavor of my presence here.” She spun, slowly, the top of the stool silently rotating until she was square to me as I stood at a respectable distance. Her forefinger curled, beckoning me closer. “I require your expertise.”

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.

For WIP it Wednesday, I posted an update on Stephanie. She’ll be being spanked everywhere on November 27th, 2017. Hop on over to my other blog, to read the beginning of this novella. I’ll be posting more excerpts, information on ordering and links to ARC to those who are interested in reviewing.

Addicted to Tech

One of best ‘spoofs’ of ’80s music videos, was Addicted to Love, by Robert Palmer in 1985. In honor of this week’s Wicked Wednesday’s prompt of telephone, I thought I would write alternate lyrics — raunchy — lyrics about being addicted to tech. [Feel free to laugh at my attempts.]

Playing in bed, I’m all alone
Downstairs, you’re on the phone
Cock is hard, I wanna fuck
Too many blogs, I’m outta luck
Can’t turn off, can’t unwind
Going down, constant chimes
Just one more check, pretty please
I want your mouth, get on your knees,
Damn, you like to believe you’re in charge of your feed, bullshit
closer to the truth you’re making love to your phone
You think all my hard spanks are boring, you’re addicted to tech
Ignore the signs, they’re really clear
You’re texting me, but I’m right here
Your thumbs dance over the screen
Updates come in and it’s too late, wanted to ream
Your ass is safe
Coming for you I masturbate
Notice that you don’t care
When cum gets in your hair
Damn, you like to pretend you’re in charge of your feed, bullshit
Replaced by your phone I say enough is enough
Even your pussy is neglected, you’re addicted to tech

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Spanking for pleasure

If you did a word association with ‘spanking’, the likely top response would be ‘punishment’. Even within the D/s community, spanking is used frequently for discipline and correction, rather than fun. That being said, if you said ‘sex’, the word most commonly utilized is probably ‘fucking’. After all, it depends on your definition of what ‘it’ is.

We are a genitally obsessed society. Every focus of swiping right is to get a penis in a vagina, or two cocks hooking up, or two pussies or any other dizzying variety of possibilities. Breasts and buttocks are reduced to visual mounds of flesh, flashing interest and availability while ‘down below’ prep is in full swing.

Not for spankos though. We know that time spent caressing, fondling, pinching, squeezing and of course, smacking the rounded rump of our partner, gets the mind into an area fraught with arousal. I am sure some of you can masturbate to climax without engaging in internal fantasy, but it’s a lot better when you orgasm thinking about someone or something else.

I know from reading many of your blog posts, spanking is often used this way; as foreplay. Whether you liked to be spanked, or like to spank, sex is more than bumping genitals. Yes, that’s often the payoff, but the route to get there can take many different forms. Bending over a lover’s knee and being spanked moderately until red and glowing, is a great way to get pleasure out of spanking. It makes the ‘sex’ that follows, all that much better.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 10 (Part 7)

At her dressing table, in careless déshabillé, she beckoned me forward. I did not meet her gaze in the mirror, but could sense her intense regard despite her seemingly casual posture and partial nudity. “Do you know why you are here?” I shook my head. “We had a meeting last night — your principle trainers. You puzzle us, Ruby. Did you know that?” Miss Frothinglips’ tone made it clear she expected a thoughtful response. “No, miss. I am but a humble maid and have sought only to do what I was told.” Her smile was predatory. “Lies will not avail you.”

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 10 (Part 6)

This was my first time in her domain, and although we’d interacted—to salacious results at times—there was an unbreachable bastion between us. I would never be more than servant class, no matter how wealthy and influential my husband night be. She was aristocracy, and her blood was deemed better than mine. I did not mind. Ambition was tolerated — if not encouraged — but I had no desire for a glass slipper or a prince’s kiss. The gilded life seemed glamorous from the outside, but it was a cage nevertheless. “Good afternoon, Miss Frothinglips. I was told to report here.”

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.

For those interested in an update about, The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie, click this link to be transported to my other blog.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 10 (Part 5)

I did not like deferred punishments. During a maid’s cycle, canings and whippings accrued to be given all at once when sexual servitude recommenced: An incentive to behave with extra circumspection and diligence. I of course, being an incorrigible termagant, piled up demerits like windblown red leaves against a fence. That was later though. Firstly came Saturday afternoon and an assignment to Miss Frothinglips. Was ever a surname more appropriate, I never encountered. “Enter.” I brushed my damp palms down my brushed out skirt. There were still smudges on my apron. Nervous, I pushed open the door to her suite.

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 10 (Part 4)

My fifth day in service was markedly different. It was exceedingly bizarre to not only be wearing a uniform at all times, but an undergarment girdling my loins. The fabric chaffed my tender nipples. The loss of freedom through lack of nudity felt like a day in gaol. Thus does one quickly become accustomed to circumstances even when some would label them beyond the pale. The roster was shuffled. Louisa and I swapped duties for the next three days. I much preferred scrubbing floors and being spanked, to her tasks of cleaning grates and oil lamps. I was very dirty.

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 10 (Part 3)

If anything, I pity Death, for it can only stare like the beggar at the feast never partaking of the living. Why I was here, on the earth, alive and thinking, I could not say. My soul was my own concern—than and now—and despite having no philosophical bent, I feel confident stating in this memoir, that the only times life made any sense at all, was when I touched someone I loved. All else was dross. Morbid? Perhaps. But to those reading this in some utopian future, you need to understand that survival was not an abstract concept.

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 10 (Part 2)

I woke with a throbbing headache. I’d neglected to bring spare padding to my—our—room, but Louisa had thoughtfully provided extras. The soiled rag went to the laundry: I dropped them on my way to emptying the chamber pot. Let the self-satisfied curates preach of rewards everlasting for those that stray into sinful ways. For those of us fortunate to serve in a good home, the daily realities of piss, shit, vomit and blood, was reminder enough of the frailty of human bodies. There is no point fearing Death when it walks at your side and shares your meals.

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 10 (Part 1)

Gentle Reader: One of the [many] disadvantages of being a woman is the monthly. If you wish to showcase your education, using ‘menstruation’ in polite mixed company will invoke instant silence. Romances never mention feminine bleeding cycles—unless the fair heroine is breathlessly counting days to verify she’s increasing—one reason being that no sane female authoress would drag down suspenseful prose with cramps, bloating and general moodiness. Cinderella never broke out in facial blemishes. Which is why a man could never write from a womanly perspective about reproduction. They are too squeamish despite projecting an aura of virile bravado.

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 9

Once upon a time, in the Big City, a young woman, fresh from college, moved into an apartment and lost her way. It took a series of interesting events to get her back on the right track. Now available at online booksellers worldwide for your ereader device.

Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie on Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

You may have noticed the picture above. If you were a reader last year from July 2016 onward, you also may have been a weekly follower of Stephanie’s misadventures every Wicked Wednesday. About a third of the way posting the 21 episodes, I announced my intentions to turn the flash fiction into a novella for publication. After editing, several rejections, more and more editing, Clarian Press agreed to publish the novella. Here are some links with more information:
1. At my other blog, I posted Stephanie’s Big Cover Reveal, written under my pen name, Byron Cane.
2. At Clarian Press, Stephanie’s permanent page with more information.
3. Also at Clarian Press, a blog post with more cover pictures about Stephanie.
4. The CEO and owner of Clarian Press, Ina Morata also blogged about Stephanie.
5. Some information about me from Ina’s perspective. My favourite spanking authors part 2
6. An interview about my writing style and motivation also with Ina. Author Interview: Byron Cane aka Lurv Spanking

As is normal, what follows is the complete 3,000-word Chapter 9 of The Bumhampton Chronicles. In this chapter, Ruby continues to find her true nature and discovers something that upsets her. The complete Chapter 10 is already written and will commence tomorrow as 100-word drabbles for the next 30 parts. I hope you continue to read the adventures at Peacock House, and thank you for all your likes and comments.

Gentle Readers: You would be forgiven in the belief that my ramblings seem to be exaggerated. This memoir represents an accurate accounting of my adventures, but there is much sadness as I pen these words. Nearly all the protagonists portrayed have passed on; and now, rediscovering the eager innocent glee with which I gloried in sensual revels, leaves me in melancholy nostalgia for the youthful naiveté I once enjoyed. Maturity comes to us all—eventually—usually upon the heels of tragedy. I’d landed on my feet in a situation I’d dared not dreamed after my mother died. Payment was due.

“So, Ruby, you are eager to be sodomized?” I ferociously hugged Mrs. Cleanknockers to my breast in my enthusiasm to sway her thoughts. “Yes, Ma’am! Will it hurt?” She tucked stray wisps of hair back into my bun. “That depends on the skill of the sodomizer and the desires of the recipient. Do your enemas hurt with the large nozzle?” I shook my head. “No.” I felt the familiar—if new—tingle in my loins. Arousal. Once ignited, it burned like wildfire, scorching everything in its path. “But I want it, I want it to hurt. Is that being naughty?”

Mrs. Cleanknockers gracefully rose to her feet, and with both hands, lifted me—rather less elegantly—until we stood with arms wrapped in close embrace. She licked my lips and danced her tongue inside my mouth. In between kisses, she murmured, “Very naughty… wanting pain… red whipped bottom… wet pussy… naughty rosebud hole… glistening salve… cheeks spread open… hard cock… harder dildo… taking you… in your hot arse… over and over… your tears… spur our cruelty…” I wanted—needed to be brought to culmination frequently: I didn’t care who supplied the fuel to my flames. I tossed up my skirts.

“What have we here?” I peered back at Mrs. Cleanknockers. “His lordship thrashed me for insubordination this morning.” I thrust my bottom up when she traced the lines of the caning. “I can see that, Ruby, but what I was referring to, was your sanitary belt.” I made to straighten up, but desisted when she pressed my shoulders down. “I am due my cycle soon. Louisa showed me the supplies. Besides wearing my uniform at all times, is there anything else required?” I watched her open a drawer and withdraw a paddle. Tapping my bottom, she raised her arm high.

CRACK! The impact rocked my torso forward, and I grabbed my ankles to prevent falling on my face. CRACK! “There is a ledger I maintain in which each female staff member is monitored.” CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I didn’t know why I was being spanked, and quite frankly, could care less. The painful stinging over my welts and bruises was driving me mad with desire. CRACK! “Stand up and face me, Ruby!” I spun round so fast I felt dizzy. She gave me a wry smile. “His lordship… is not fond of menstrual blood, and checks the updated status each afternoon.”

I, being still rather ignorant, asked Mrs. Cleanknockers if aversion to monthly bleeding was a normal male reaction. As she returned the paddle to its velvet cradle, she replied, “In my experience, it has been the norm that men find women’s courses, and the attendant heightened emotions, to be at best, an inconvenience, and at worst, something to be feared and loathed.” Having grown up poor, surrounded by females working before dawn till after dark trying to survive, I was woefully unprepared for the nuances of male companionship. The rap on the door startled me: Mrs. Cleanknockers loitered on purpose.

Mr. Jones-Smyth was shortly ushered in by my apparent chaperone. (That horse had already bolted) Mrs. Cleanknockers was composed and dignified as only a plenipotentiary chatelaine could present. “Good afternoon, Mister. May I enquire as to your mission?” He was anything but in control as he shifted from side-to-side and spun the brim of his hat through crushing fingertips. Not quite meeting my startled eyes, he begged my pardon for his unconscionable actions of yesterday. “I have no excuse for my unbecoming behavior, and will completely understand if you wish to cry off our engagement” I glanced at Mrs. Cleanknockers.

Her expression was inscrutable and, without guidance, I spoke from my heart. “Mr. Jones-Smyth, I have no intention of crying off, and accept your apology. I would wish we move on from the incident in question and resolve to press forward together with a clearer intent.” He was clearly both surprised and relieved with my forthright statement. He gave me a slight bow, and reached out to kiss the back of my hand. “In that case, dear Ruby, it would give me the greatest pleasure if you would honor me with a carriage drive in the country this Sunday afternoon.”

I beamed with delight. “Chester! I would adore a ramble through the countryside with you at my side.” Mrs. Cleanknockers cleared her throat softly. “With proper escort, of course.” Her tone brooked no nonsense. “Louisa shall accompany you and the three of you will return within two hours.” Mr. Jones-Smyth readily agreed and he departed much less apprehensive that he’d arrived. “I should return to waxing the floor, Ma’am.” She gave me a tight smile and left as well. I stood there for a brief spell of time until, sinking to my knees, attempted to scrub Chester from my thoughts.

By dinner bell, I was starved, and I attacked my meal with carnivorous ferocity: Daintily, of course. Up to the schoolroom I flew on wings of romantic fancy. To my delight, Louisa was already present, and we squealed as if parted for months rather than minutes. We tried, honest, to behave with decorum and concentrate on our studies, but—we were very, very naughty I’m afraid. Unbeknownst to us, Mr. Steedstiff had received specific instructions in case of misbehavior. Caught passing notes, the other maids giggled as we were made to stand, uniforms drawn up in back, in opposing corners.

Every fifteen minutes, for the remainder of the session, he caned us twice where we stood, for a total of eight strokes. I at least had been tenderized throughout the day, but poor Louisa had to take Mr. Steedstiff’s whippy blows on cold skin. After he dismissed the rest of the class for bedtime, he ordered us into his adjacent study. My pulse pounded, remembering what other girls apparently were ‘forced’ to do. “Girls. I am very disappointed you both decided gossiping is more important than expanding your knowledge. His lordship goes to great time and expense on your behalf.”

With downcast heads and wretched expressions, we humbly apologized. I knew he was correct. No other master I had ever heard of before made a point of educating staff, never mind useless females—in society’s eyes. I swore to him I would redouble my efforts and never pass notes in class again. When I at last dared look at him, his eyes appeared to twinkle even though his mouth was a thin line. “Louisa, come here and kneel. You know what to do.” She glanced at me, before going to her knees, opening his trouser front then removing his cock.

When she opened her mouth, and he pressed the large head between her lips, I moaned softly. When, after several minutes of audible wet sucking, he withdrew a hard shaft the diameter of my wrist and longer than my hand, I took an eager step forward. When he looked at me and said, ‘Kneel’, I fairly dove to my knees next to Louisa. Stretching my mouth until my jaw popped, I stuck out my tongue and waggled the tip. Mr. Steedstiff obliged. I had wanted a rematch from my embarrassing performance in the Gun Room several days prior. Eyes watered.

When it was Louisa’s turn again, she smoothly took nearly the entire length of Mr. Steedstiff’s cock into her throat. I could clearly see the bulge it made, and he fucked her mouth as if it was her pussy. “Have you been practicing how not to gag, Louisa?” I asked, remembering how she’d struggled as well. She shrugged. “I’ve never had that problem. Just lucky I guess.” Her tone was slightly bitter. “Oh, but I thought—.” She grimaced as he thrust. “I lied.” I couldn’t help hugging her one-armed as he switched back to me. I stole a kiss.

He was much gentler, but I couldn’t stop gagging every time he stoked deep. Switching back yet again, Mr. Steedstiff reached down and, with gestures, had me lick his wet base as he moved in and out of Louisa with long sweeps. When it was my turn again, I tried forcing my throat to open. I growled as I failed. “Why can’t I do this?” He held me back and asked, “Do you truly want my cock deeper?” I sucked him back in and jabbed forward: I felt his large hands pull my skull closer. I heaved, but quickly swallowed.

“Stand up, Ruby, we’re going to try something different.” Clearing a chaise arm, my head dangled. The back of my neck cupped, upside down, I watched his cock approach. My throat felt more open and with his cock poised halfway in, he said, “Deep breath, on the count of three. One… tw—” He quickly shoved right through my gag reflex. My hands flailed at his thighs as his pubic hairs tickled my nostrils. Panic flared. He held for only seconds—it felt interminable—and when he pulled out, I twisted my head, coughing and spitting phlegm. His prick returned.

I tried to relax. We repeated the sequence until my entire face was soaked with saliva. By the end of the training session, I was proud that I could take his entire length with only minor choking. He finished by spraying his spunk all over Louisa’s face: I lapped her clean with eager puppy-like licks. In a haze of Sapphic lust, we tumbled to the floor, tongues entangled and fingers probing wet orifices under ruched skirts. Pinning her down, I freed her swollen nipples and suckled like a babe. “Girls? As much as I enjoy the Lesbos trade, it’s bedtime.”

Two little mice scampered down the dark hallway and up the steep stairs to our attic cubbies. Mrs. Cleanknockers had given us tacit support—provided we were discreet—to sleep together in two cots lashed together. Uniforms were tossed and laughing, we fell onto the hard surface. The single lamp cast a halo around her soft features and my heart clenched with the love I felt for this girl. “I never thought I could feel this way about a woman.” She smiled and lifted her fingers to release my bound hair. “I feel the same way, Ruby. You’ve saved me.”

“Saved you?” I said. Curious as to why Louisa felt that way, I asked, “How can I have saved you? I’ve only been here four days!” Her lips covered mine. Hands slipped to naked shoulders and with steady pressure, drew me down into bliss. Side-by-side, we stroked and fondled; our nipples tight beneath pinching fingers and pussies made wet by probing thumbs. “Until you, my dearest Ruby, I’ve hated the sexual slavery here at Peacock House. I’ve fought back and been punished. My orgasms have been ripped unwillingly from me, and my body a toy for others to play with.”

“Oh, Louisa! I had no idea! I’m so sorry and angry that you’ve been so abused! His lordship will hear about this in the morn!” She bolted upright in alarm at my bold declaration. “NO! Ruby, you cannot… you will not challenge his lordship over this! It is the way of the world and I forbid you to reveal what I’ve told you in private.” I too sat up and soothed her agitation with caresses and solemn promises. I confessed my own sins by stating I loved—I craved sex and wanted it all the time with anyway who asked.

“Truly, Ruby? You enjoy the sex and beatings?” In the dimness her eyes sparkled and her round mouth reflected her astonishment. “Yes, Louisa, I wish Mrs. Cleanknockers would whip and spank me all day long, as I was tied to the horse and used in all my orifices by the entire staff. I have become a wicked slattern doomed to Hell… but I don’t care.” My tone was defiant. “If my fiancé desires my training to be as asset to his business, and my body the currency with which it prospers, then I will be a dutiful and obedient wife.”

Louisa sounded bitter. “I doubt I’ll ever marry. Who would want such a wretch as I?” I seized her hands in mine. “Then you will come with me. We will all live together and you, my beloved, will be my dearest friend, confidante and wanton lover.” She pulled back and vigorously shook her head. “That will never work, Ruby.” I sniffed and said, “Yes it will. On our Sunday afternoon outing, I will simply tell Chester that you are to be my bosom companion.” Her face remained skeptical: I resumed our interrupted coitus with a reminder my bum needed attention.

Our lumpy pillows shoved under my hips, I wriggled impatiently as she fetched the ointment tin. Rather than her palm though, I felt the rasp of her tongue tracing the numerous lines and mottled markings all over my backside. Her wet pelvis slapped my shoulders as she straddled my torso. Her deft tongue danced down my crack as she bent over and, with calloused fingers, wrenched my sore cheeks apart. What can say about the act of feuille de rose? The earthy, slick, sometimes bittersweet and tangy oil that can found nestled betwixt the plump hemispheres of the female form.

Persistently pressing pliable petals with furled tongue, repeated efforts will cause the rubbery exit to yield slightly. Combined with the heady aroma wafting from the adjacent pussy, the scents and tastes drive one mad with lust. Louisa lapped and drilled my virgin anus, while her nose rubbed my clit, and delved inside my wet cunt. By the time she ceased her licking, I’d spent twice and lay there facedown wondering if I’d ever be able move again. Greased palms swirled the paste across my globes from meridian to poles. “Harder,” I whispered, the pressure on my bruises causing deep moans.

I was a puddle by the time she finished. Urging me on my back, she maneuvered her waist until her furry nest loomed in my blurry vision. Simultaneously, we feasted. My nostrils inhaled her rosebud. My thumb, slick with saliva, wiggled inside her bum. My lips suckled her fleshly folds, teeth gently gnawed and limber tongue stretched deep inside her pussy then mercilessly lashed her clit. She returned the favor as we snuffled like pigs rooting for truffles. My face was soaked with her essence. Her shuddery cries of passion vibrated in my secret garden. We reaped what we sowed.

Our last act, before collapsing in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, was to attempt insertion of as many fingers in pussies as possible. She managed four with thumb thrumming my clit as I screamed. Her more experienced entrance swallowed my hand to the wrist. Fucking her with flexed fingers, her hips thrashed in frantic frenzy. I could feel her supple inner walls rippling with each climax, until copious fluids coated my probing digits and splashed my throat and chest. I know not how many orgasms we stole from each other, but the bedding was soaked and our voices hoarse.

My legs trembled as if I’d run miles to escape my past. Damp cloths wiped sensitive skin and finally, when we lay on our backs, lamp extinguished and skittering pulses normal, we held hands and dreamed about the life we wanted to have. “Do you want children, Ruby?” My reply, ‘Doesn’t every woman?’ elicited a sardonic sounding snort. “Not this woman. Being rutted upon, swelling up like a melon, then likely dying nine months later is not something I crave.” I turned on my elbow to face her. “Not every mother dies in childbirth.” Her voice was flat. “Mine did.”

“By the time I could walk, I’d been passed around like a rotten turnip to so many relatives, I didn’t want to be with any of them. Our home burned to the ground, my father with it, when I was fifteen. He was an angry drunkard who beat me whenever he could. So I got good at running and hiding.” I lay back down and threw my arm across her breasts. “How did you end up here?” Louisa sighed. “My mother’s second cousin knew His lordship, whether he knew the extent of the depravity that occurs here I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Louisa. I promise I will take you away with me when I wed.” She tilted her head and gently kissed me. “I’m sorry too, Ruby, that I was such a heinous bitch to you.” I kissed her back and laughed. “I think you’ve more than made up for that lapse of character. If nothing else, your wicked tongue has been put to better use.” She giggled and swatted my arm. “It’s all your fault, Ruby. If you didn’t taste so good, I wouldn’t keep making sniping snide comments.” My teasing reply. “My little love slave needs a reminder.”

Louisa rolled on her stomach without protest. Only the faintest of light showed in our room, but my hand unerringly located her plump bottom. I was very tired, but managed a brisk spanking to usher in our sleep. Drawing the itchy blanket and rough sheet to our chins, we murmured our love to each other, drifting off to dream. I was smiling, the vision was clear; a white-stucco house, with roses climbing trellises in riotous abandon. Sitting on a stone garden bench, my children gamboling like kittens with their dear Aunt Louisa: Chester giving them rides on his broad shoulders.

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 9 (Part 30)

Louisa rolled on her stomach without protest. Only the faintest of light showed in our room, but my hand unerringly located her plump bottom. I was very tired, but managed a brisk spanking to usher in our sleep. Drawing the itchy blanket and rough sheet to our chins, we murmured our love to each other, drifting off to dream. I was smiling, the vision was clear; a white-stucco house, with roses climbing trellises in riotous abandon. Sitting on a stone garden bench, my children gamboling like kittens with their dear Aunt Louisa: Chester giving them rides on his broad shoulders.

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 9 (Part 29)

“I’m sorry, Louisa. I promise I will take you away with me when I wed.” She tilted her head and gently kissed me. “I’m sorry too, Ruby, that I was such a heinous bitch to you.” I kissed her back and laughed. “I think you’ve more than made up for that lapse of character. If nothing else, your wicked tongue has been put to better use.” She giggled and swatted my arm. “It’s all your fault, Ruby. If you didn’t taste so good, I wouldn’t keep making sniping snide comments.” My teasing reply. “My little love slave needs a reminder.”

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 9 (Part 28)

“By the time I could walk, I’d been passed around like a rotten turnip to so many relatives, I didn’t want to be with any of them. Our home burned to the ground, my father with it, when I was fifteen. He was an angry drunkard who beat me whenever he could. So I got good at running and hiding.” I lay back down and threw my arm across her breasts. “How did you end up here?” Louisa sighed. “My mother’s second cousin knew His lordship, whether he knew the extent of the depravity that occurs here I don’t know.”

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 9 (Part 27)

My legs trembled as if I’d run miles to escape my past. Damp cloths wiped sensitive skin and finally, when we lay on our backs, lamp extinguished and skittering pulses normal, we held hands and dreamed about the life we wanted to have. “Do you want children, Ruby?” My reply, ‘Doesn’t every woman?’ elicited a sardonic sounding snort. “Not this woman. Being rutted upon, swelling up like a melon, then likely dying nine months later is not something I crave.” I turned on my elbow to face her. “Not every mother dies in childbirth.” Her voice was flat. “Mine did.”

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 9 (Part 26)

Our last act, before collapsing in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs, was to attempt insertion of as many fingers in pussies as possible. She managed four with thumb thrumming my clit as I screamed. Her more experienced entrance swallowed my hand to the wrist. Fucking her with flexed fingers, her hips thrashed in frantic frenzy. I could feel her supple inner walls rippling with each climax, until copious fluids coated my probing digits and splashed my throat and chest. I know not how many orgasms we stole from each other, but the bedding was soaked and our voices hoarse.

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 9 (Part 25)

I was a puddle by the time she finished. Urging me on my back, she maneuvered her waist until her furry nest loomed in my blurry vision. Simultaneously, we feasted. My nostrils inhaled her rosebud. My thumb, slick with saliva, wiggled inside her bum. My lips suckled her fleshly folds, teeth gently gnawed and limber tongue stretched deep inside her pussy then mercilessly lashed her clit. She returned the favor as we snuffled like pigs rooting for truffles. My face was soaked with her essence. Her shuddery cries of passion vibrated in my secret garden. We reaped what we sowed.

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 9 (Part 24)

Persistently pressing pliable petals with furled tongue, repeated efforts will cause the rubbery exit to yield slightly. Combined with the heady aroma wafting from the adjacent pussy, the scents and tastes drive one mad with lust. Louisa lapped and drilled my virgin anus, while her nose rubbed my clit, and delved inside my wet cunt. By the time she ceased her licking, I’d spent twice and lay there facedown wondering if I’d ever be able move again. Greased palms swirled the paste across my globes from meridian to poles. “Harder,” I whispered, the pressure on my bruises causing deep moans.

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 9 (Part 23)

Our lumpy pillows shoved under my hips, I wriggled impatiently as she fetched the ointment tin. Rather than her palm though, I felt the rasp of her tongue tracing the numerous lines and mottled markings all over my backside. Her wet pelvis slapped my shoulders as she straddled my torso. Her deft tongue danced down my crack as she bent over and, with calloused fingers, wrenched my sore cheeks apart. What can say about the act of feuille de rose? The earthy, slick, sometimes bittersweet and tangy oil that can found nestled betwixt the plump hemispheres of the female form.

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 9 (Part 22)

Louisa sounded bitter. “I doubt I’ll ever marry. Who would want such a wretch as I?” I seized her hands in mine. “Then you will come with me. We will all live together and you, my beloved, will be my dearest friend, confidante and wanton lover.” She pulled back and vigorously shook her head. “That will never work, Ruby.” I sniffed and said, “Yes, it will. On our Sunday afternoon outing, I will simply tell Chester that you are to be my bosom companion.” Her face remained skeptical: I resumed our interrupted coitus with a reminder my bum needed attention.

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 9 (Part 21)

“Truly, Ruby? You enjoy the sex and beatings?” In the dimness her eyes sparkled and her round mouth reflected her astonishment. “Yes, Louisa, I wish Mrs. Cleanknockers would whip and spank me all day long, as I was tied to the horse and used in all my orifices by the entire staff. I have become a wicked slattern doomed to Hell… but I don’t care.” My tone was defiant. “If my fiancé desires my training to be as asset to his business, and my body the currency with which it prospers, then I will be a dutiful and obedient wife.”

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 9 (Part 20)

“Oh, Louisa! I had no idea! I’m so sorry and angry that you’ve been so abused! His lordship will hear about this in the morn!” She bolted upright in alarm at my bold declaration. “NO! Ruby, you cannot… you will not challenge his lordship over this! It is the way of the world and I forbid you to reveal what I’ve told you in private.” I too sat up and soothed her agitation with caresses and solemn promises. I confessed my own sins by stating I loved—I craved–sex and wanted it all the time with anyway who asked.

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 9 (Part 19)

“Saved you?” I said. Curious as to why Louisa felt that way, I asked, “How can I have saved you? I’ve only been here four days!” Her lips covered mine. Hands slipped to naked shoulders and with steady pressure, drew me down into bliss. Side-by-side, we stroked and fondled; our nipples tight beneath pinching fingers and pussies made wet by probing thumbs. “Until you, my dearest Ruby, I’ve hated the sexual slavery here at Peacock House. I’ve fought back and been punished. My orgasms have been ripped unwillingly from me, and my body a toy for others to play with.”

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 9 (Part 18)

Two little mice scampered down the dark hallway and up the steep stairs to our attic cubbies. Mrs. Cleanknockers had given us tacit support—provided we were discreet—to sleep together in two cots lashed together. Uniforms were tossed and laughing, we fell onto the hard surface. The single lamp cast a halo around her soft features and my heart clenched with the love I felt for this girl. “I never thought I could feel this way about a woman.” She smiled and lifted her fingers to release my bound hair. “I feel the same way, Ruby. You’ve saved me.”

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.

Sugar is sweet, but your ass is mine

When I read this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, sugar, the first thing that popped into my mind was this 1969 song, “Sugar, Sugar” by The Archies.

A $1.00 kiss at the video cartoon Kissing Booth back then would cost $6.71 today. [A bargain if there’s tongue involved] Which got me searching for Archie spankings, and the comic strip below that was published in November 1973. For those of you unfamiliar with Archie Comics, the first issue was published in Dec. 1941 and is still being published today, 76 years later. Now, I don’t write fan fiction, but the premise of Archie having two “potential” girlfriends—Betty and Veronica—and never being able to decide between them, has a certain traction within the spanking genre in terms of a spank-off contest of jealous girls.

If it were me, I’d Dom them both, but that’s because I have delusions of polyamory grandeur. 🙄

Archie spanking Veronica. Source: Chicago Spanking Review

“Girls! Enough! What did I say would happen to both of you, if you fought again over access to my studly and magnificent body?”
“You said you’d spank us. Boo-hoo. We’re so scared.”
“Don’t try to sugarcoat your actions. I’m not a one-girlfriend man, so it’s my way or the highway.”
“You just want to have your cake and eat it too.”
“Oh, and he eats me so well… too bad your pussy smells like a swamp!”
“Does not!”
“Does to!”
“He likes my ass better!”
“Does not!”
“Does to! He fucked it so good last night even your inflated ego would’ve fit!”
SMACK!
SMACK!
“GIRLS! STOP SLAPPING EACH OTHER!”
“She started it!”
“Did not!”
“Did to! It’s not fair! She’s your favorite just ‘cuse she’s an anal whore!”
“No way! You’re his favorite ‘cuse you like your throat fucked like a frat slut!”
“GIRLS! ENOUGH!”
“Sorry/Not sorry.”
“I’m the Dom in this household and both of you are my subs. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“And do both of you get equal time with me?”
“Yes/No.”
“Well?”
“She got ten extra minutes last Wednesday.”
“You got twenty extra minutes last Sunday when you ‘claimed’ you had a cramp.”
“I did! The spreader bar caused a charlie horse in my thigh.”
“Was that before or after he whipped your butt for lying.”
“I never lie! I’m sugar and you’re spice. Remember?”
“What are you doing, Sir?”
You… lay over the table here… and you, lay over there. Hold hands… no, like this. After I tie your ankles to the table legs, and cuff your wrists together, I’m going to belt both of you until you make sweet with each other.”
“Never!”
“Never!”
“Then your butts are going to be battered and welted if you don’t kiss and make up.”
“And if we do so?”
“I’ll churn your pussies into butter and spray my sweet white cream frosting all over your faces.”
“What do you think? Should we cave to his perverted fantasy?”
“I bet you cave first.”
“Never! I can take twice as many strokes as you. I bet you cry first!”
“Never! The loser has to be a slave for a week and do anything asked. Get ready to suck some ass, bitch.”
“Fuck you! And that’s exactly where my strap-on is going to be buried all next week. Up your skinny ass, skank.”
“Bring it on!”
“It’s a deal.”
CRACK! CRACK!
“Harder, Sir! Make her scream!”
CRACK! CRACK!
“What’s the matter, Sir? Too much sugar rotting your muscles? WHIP HER!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“I still think he likes you better.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“That’s okay. He still thinks we hate each other.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“DAMN! He’s pissed off.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Better than pissed on.”
“Says you.”
“WHAT?”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 9 (Part 17)

I tried to relax. We repeated the sequence until my entire face was soaked with saliva. By the end of the training session, I was proud that I could take his entire length with only minor choking. He finished by spraying his spunk all over Louisa’s face: I lapped her clean with eager puppy-like licks. In a haze of Sapphic lust, we tumbled to the floor, tongues entangled and fingers probing wet orifices under ruched skirts. Pinning her down, I freed her swollen nipples and suckled like a babe. “Girls? As much as I enjoy the Lesbos trade, it’s bedtime.”

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.

If it’s the first day of the month, then there is a new post at my other blog, Byron Cane Spanking and Erotic Fiction.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 9 (Part 16)

“Stand up, Ruby, we’re going to try something different.” Clearing a chaise arm, my head dangled freely. Cupping the back of my neck, upside down, I watched his cock approach. My throat felt more open and with his cock poised halfway in, he said, “Deep breath, on the count of three. One… tw—” He quickly shoved right through my gag reflex. My hands flailed at his thighs as his pubic hairs tickled my nostrils. Panic flared. He held for only seconds—it felt interminable—and when he pulled out, I twisted my head, coughing and spitting phlegm. His prick returned.

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 9 (Part 15)

He was much gentler, but I couldn’t stop gagging every time he stoked deep. Switching back yet again, Mr. Steedstiff reached down and, with gestures, had me lick his wet base as he moved in and out of Louisa with long sweeps. When it was my turn again, I tried forcing my throat to open. I growled as I failed. “Why can’t I do this?” He held me back and asked, “Do you truly want my cock deeper?” I sucked him back in and jabbed forward: I felt his large hands pull my skull closer. I heaved, but quickly swallowed.

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 9 (Part 14)

When it was Louisa’s turn again, she smoothly took nearly the entire length of Mr. Steedstiff’s cock into her throat. I could clearly see the bulge it made, and he fucked her mouth as if it was her pussy. “Have you been practicing how not to gag, Louisa?” I asked, remembering how she’d struggled as well. She shrugged. “I’ve never had that problem. Just lucky I guess.” Her tone was slightly bitter. “Oh, but I thought—.” She grimaced just before he thrust. “I lied.” I couldn’t help hugging her one-armed as he switched back to me. I stole a kiss.

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 9 (Part 13)

When she opened her mouth, and he pressed the large head between her lips, I moaned softly. When, after several minutes of audible wet sucking, he withdrew a hard shaft the diameter of my wrist and longer than my hand, I took an eager step forward. When he looked at me and said, ‘Kneel’, I fairly dove to my knees next to Louisa. Stretching my mouth until my jaw popped, I stuck out my tongue and waggled the tip. Mr. Steedstiff obliged. I had wanted a rematch from my embarrassing performance in the Gun Room several days prior. Eyes watered.

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 9 (Part 12)

With downcast heads and wretched expressions, we humbly apologized. I knew he was correct. No other master I had ever heard of before made a point of educating staff, never mind useless females—in society’s eyes. I swore to him I would redouble my efforts and never pass notes in class again. When I at last dared look at him, his eyes appeared to twinkle even though his mouth was a thin line. “Louisa, come here and kneel. You know what to do.” She glanced at me, before going to her knees, opening his trouser front then removing his cock.

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 9 (Part 11)

Every fifteen minutes, for the remainder of the session, he caned us twice where we stood, for a total of eight strokes. I at least had been tenderized throughout the day, but poor Louisa had to take Mr. Steedstiff’s whippy blows on cold skin. After he dismissed the rest of the class for bedtime, he ordered us into his adjacent study. My pulse pounded, remembering what other girls apparently were ‘forced’ to do. “Girls. I am very disappointed you both decided gossiping is more important than expanding your knowledge. His lordship goes to great time and expense on your behalf.”

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 9 (Part 9)

I beamed with delight. “Chester! I would adore a ramble through the countryside with you at my side.” Mrs. Cleanknockers cleared her throat softly. “With proper escort, of course.” Her tone brooked no nonsense. “Louisa shall accompany you and the three of you will return within two hours.” Mr. Jones-Smyth readily agreed and he departed much less apprehensive that he’d arrived. “I should return to waxing the floor, Ma’am.” She gave me a tight smile and left as well. I stood there for a brief spell of time until, sinking to my knees, attempted to scrub Chester from my thoughts.

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.