Before I get into the Bumhampton Chronicles, I want to point your way to one of the best erotic spanking authors I’ve ever read. This story link is to “Pride and Obedience” at Spanking Theatre, a Tumblr blog. It fits quite nicely with The Bumhampton Chronicles.
Chapter 5 completes Ruby’s second day at Peacock House. It seems much longer of course, because the episodes are only 100-word drabbles. The total novel thus far is a little over 15,500 words. I don’t know how far I will take The Bumhampton Chronicles; at some point I will be novelizing the chapters, although, I am leaning towards the entire book being 100-word drabbles. Also wanted to mention that Chapter 6 has the first 10 drabbles ready to go. Taking a different direction.
Gentle Reader: as I begin this chapter, I realize I have been remiss in providing physical descriptions of the personages populating my prose. This of course, is deliberate, thus allowing your imagination to supply features and characteristics. After all, large is another person’s small, and pheromones do not emanate from letters arranged on printed page. Perhaps you would prefer sexual and discipline scenes without extraneous folderol, but punishment sans context is simple brutality. Every spanking I relate at Peacock House was given for a reason. Memory is a wicked beast, insisting upon innocence, whilst robbing the vault behind our backs.
After I finished driving Louisa to orgasm, we tangled tongues, her intoxicating taste mingled in our mouths. While we were hazed with lust, we still retained some semblance of self-preservation, and resumed cleaning at lightning speed. Just before Mrs. Cleanknockers returned, we arranged for a clandestine rendezvous at bedtime so that I could soothe and pamper the aftereffects of her session with his lordship. I admitted I was curious to see the result of a good rogering. “Well, ladies? Are you quite finished messing about?” We replied in unison, “Yes, Mrs. Cleanknockers.” She stood behind us and squeezed our bottoms.
“One red, one white, naughty bottoms, will be spanked tonight.” We couldn’t help but giggle at Mrs. Cleanknockers cheeky poetry. She responded by cupping our dripping cunnies and sliding her middle fingers inside. She stirred our honeypots. My head went back and rested on her bosom. Lolling to the side, though slitted eyes, I was nose-to-nose with Louisa. Our nether lips parted by strong fingers, our mouths panted the sweetest cries until they met in a scalding kiss. “Good girls,” Mrs. Cleanknockers crooned. “Kiss and make up.” The calloused palm under my cunt began wetly smacking. I felt Louisa groan.
All that was holding me upright was Louisa’s tongue and Mrs. Cleanknocker’s hand. My climax buckled my knees, while thighs became soaked with desire. She stopped spanking my pussy and curled an arm around my waist. “Nooooo!” I moaned as Louisa gripped my nape devouring my tongue. “Yes, sweet Ruby, you owe me another spending.” Mrs. Cleanknockers rubbed my clit, gently as first, then firmer and faster, occasionally pinching, as my hips trembled uncontrollably. When I came this time, the emotions of the moment swept me into tears. Both of them cuddled me, stroking my damp skin until I calmed.
After we cleaned—again—it was dinnertime. Louisa picked at her meal and went to her doom with a martyred expression. I was sent to the school wing on the third floor. Every weeknight, Mr. Steedstiff tutored portions of the female staff, the males seen to by Miss Frothinglips. As this marked the end of my second day, I spent the two hours giving answers to a variety of primers. I felt shame at my obvious ignorance of mathematics, geography, history and frankly, nearly every subject beyond reading comprehension and vocabulary. My penmanship was atrocious, attitude truculent. My bottom paid.
There were precious few carrots in the schoolroom, but many sticks. I cannot vouch for Miss Frothinglips technique in exhorting the male to academic prowess, but I can state unequivocally, that Mr. Steedstiff believed in the power of the rod: both rattan and priapic. While I struggled through the beginner’s tests, he conducted an oral examination of the previous lessons. The three little maids were perched on pert derrières behind desks. I was not yet subject to discipline, it was counterproductive Mrs. Cleanknockers had explained, but once a curriculum was established, I would be required to earn a passing grade.
Lily, Sara and Ann correctly answered several questions each, but all failed at least one. Each girl in turn went to the coatrack and selected a cane. Presenting it across both palms to Mr. Steedstiff, once he agreed with her choice and took the implement, she bent over and grasped her ankles. The shortness of our uniforms meant the hem lifted to expose the lower half of the nude buttocks. Sara received two strokes, Ann one, and poor Lilly, four hard and fast red welts on her plump cheeks. After the punishments was quiet study time for the last hour.
Mr. Steedstiff spent most of the hour reviewing my completed primers. He frowned and sighed frequently. My spirits sank lower with each raised eyebrow or shake of the head. At quarter after nine, he whispered in Ann’s ear. She fairly bounced off her chair with a grin and disappeared into an anteroom. He followed shortly and firmly closed the door. Lily and Sara exchanged smirks but kept working through their lessons. As the clocks chimed half past, Ann reemerged, preening as a cat in the creamery. Her tongue swiped the corner of her mouth and she daintily licked her fingertips.
Discretely adjusting his falls, Mr. Steedstiff dismissed the girls to their rooms. He shuffled my test papers then tapped them into a neat stack. “You seem to have a good grasp of the English language, Ruby, but you are sorely lacking in many more basic areas. Were you never schooled?” I clasped my hands tightly. “My mother needed me at home, sir, once I turned ten. I looked after neighbor’s children so they, and my mother, could work. I like to read,” I added hopefully. “You have much to learn, Ruby, in a short time. It will take utmost dedication.”
“I shall consult with his Lordship and Mrs. Cleanknockers as to the schedule.” I was feeling a bit bereft, it must have shown, because Mr. Steedstiff attempted to reassure me. “You seem intelligent, if a bit stubborn. With a studious approach, I am confident your deficiencies will be remedied in short order.” My eyes darted to the canes. “Does that studious approach include caning, sir?” He crossed his arms. “I find red lines to be an inducement to retention of pertinent facts.” I nodded and boldly met his stern gaze. “And other methods of training, are they inducements as well?”
“Your assessment is indeed correct. You are impertinent and prone to speak inappropriately.” I hastily looked down. “Sorry, sir.” His footsteps approached. His hand lifted my chin. “No, Ruby, you are not sorry. Your masochistic nature is quite rare. I intend to carefully nurture that inclination for mutual benefit.” His thumb caressed my dry lips. “I cannot, however, have your wantonness controlling your schooling.” He ordered me to stand up and bend over placing my palms on the vacated seat. I caught my breath as his hands trailed up the backs of my thighs, bringing my dress over my hips.
“His Lordship and Mrs. Cleanknockers pride themselves on thrashing in. I, on the other hand, believe a lighter, more sensual whipping yields better results.” At his urging, I widened my stance and dipped my back. My pussy instantly became wet and throbbed when his finger traced the outline of my wrinkled folds. To distract myself, I blurted out, “Is that why you dislike Mrs. Cleanknockers so much?” His hand froze then resumed exploring my curves. Once again, I noticed the difference between the male and female touch. Thicker and longer, yes, but mostly more demanding. “I enjoy her mouth, Ruby.”
I giggled as a vision of the stern Mrs. Cleanknockers on her knees with a mouthful of cock flashed across my synapses. My mirth quickly changed to gasps as Mr. Steedstiff snapped his heavy palm upon my chubby nates. The spanking was hard and fast, but much too short to slake my ardor. When he finished and was fondling my warm flesh, I tried to entice his fingers lower into my creamy strawberry by waggling my ripe peach. “That, dear Ruby, is reserved for girls who excel academically. Punishment or pleasure will always be your choice through your due diligence.”
Once ensconced in my room for the evening, I washed and undressed for bed. I lay there, with fingers laced behind my head, and relived my day. Tantalizing glimpses of sexual possibilities and combinations I’d never before considered. My thighs parted to let the heat escape. My hands slid down to grasp the nightgown’s hem. By now, my center was a molten forge; my head rang in a maelstrom of sparks and slick passion. A light tapping noise gradually penetrated my awareness. I withdrew my sticky fingers and blinked in confusion. “Ruby?” a soft voice whispered. “Are you still awake?”
I’d forgotten about Louisa! I cracked the door a smidge, faint light from wall-mounted sconces, revealed a disheveled girl. I poked my head out into the hallway—she was alone—so I drew her inside out of view. Only the pale moon illuminated my cot, it was past lights-out and congress was forbidden. “Are you okay?” I asked her as we stood facing one another. Her voice wobbled. “Could you hold me?” All she said was, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. I patted her back and stroked her hair all the while making soothing noises. “It will be fine.”
Coaxing her to lie down, we squeezed together on the narrow bed, her head cradled on my shoulder. “Was it awful?” Louisa drew in an exhaled a shuddering sigh. “No worse than I deserved or expected, Ruby. His lordship is determined to ‘cure’ my moral failings.” I kissed her brow several times before I offered to treat any soreness. “I smuggled some lotion. Why don’t we get naked and I can rub you anywhere you’d like.” That caused her to giggle. “I hope you stole a large tin.” I snickered in return. “You would know all about—large—wouldn’t you?”
We swallowed our giddiness with dueling tongues, our nightclothes swiftly discarded, my wanton flame roaring back to furnace strength. Louisa hissed when my roaming hands clasped her bottom. My fingertips traced the raised welts. “Poor, naughty girl. Did his lordship thrash you unmercifully?” She yipped and tried to roll away. “Not so fast,” I scolded and pinched the cane lines. I breathed in her ear. “I need to…examine you…everywhere, and make sure I rub all your marks.” She moaned and I smiled in the darkness. I bade her lay on her stomach; she did so with a sound of relief.
I straddled her shoulders, facing her feet, my wet satin purse and coarse hairs sliding and scratching on soft skin. Leaning forward, my lips kissed her neat waist and swelled hips. Her musky scent was intoxicating with a whiff of the sea. My hands curled around and cupped her sticky bottom. I sniffed closer. “What’s on your bum?” I felt Louisa giggle through my pussy. “His lordship always pulls out before he spends if he’s in a cunny. He says ‘I like to mark my territory’ plus he doesn’t want any bastards toddling around Peacock House.” I took a swipe.
My tongue flickered in and out of my mouth, teeth scraping the surface, eyes squinting as the tangy-sour flavor of his seed coated my unprepared taste buds. I made a gagging sound and Louisa burst out laughing. “It’s not that bad! You’ll be swallowing by the bucket full soon, so you might as well get used to the flavor.” I was still trying to get rid of the taste and, at first, didn’t fully comprehend her statement. “Huh? Buckets?” She wriggled beneath me. “Are you going to rub me or not?” I cracked the lid of the tin; roses bloomed.
Scooping out a generous dollop of the thick paste, I smeared the unguent around on both her cheeks. Louisa sighed and settled into the coarse ticking. As I rubbed her beaten buttocks, I subconsciously rocked my soaking cunt on her back. Subtle movements at first, as I shifted down in order to reach the crease at her thighs, I left behind a trail of cream. Limber enough to bend at the waist without lifting my aching puss, I buried my flaring nostrils in her damp crack. The odor caused me to growl. “I have to lick you, to drink you.”
“Let me roll over on my back, Ruby, so we can soixante-neuf,” Louisa growled in return. “What does that mean?” I asked, baffled by the unfamiliar term. “It means sixty-nine, for the shapes when laid on the side and on top of each other.” She struggled under me and I dismounted and stood up. She quickly turned over and clasped my hand. Tugging, she said, “Now, climb back as you were, with your face down there, and with your pussy above my face.” I clambered over her and crouched on all fours. I felt her tongue lick my wet thighs.
“See?” Louisa coaxed. “I lick you and you lick me: soixante-neuf.” As the meaning became clear, I said ‘Ah, I get it now’ as an oil lamp flared. We froze in shock as the seemingly sun-bright lamp chased the shadows and lust from the room. “Well, well, well,” Mrs. Cleanknockers drawled. “What does my wandering eye spy, but two very, very, bad little girls engaging in very, very naughty games?” We sprang off my cot, limbs tumbling and colliding in our haste to stand at attention. Our breath was short and my heart, at least, was pounding in my chest.
My skin erupted into a pimpled landscape that mapped my fear through erect hairs and tingling shivers. I was sure I’d finally gone too far and would be cast out into the dark. Mrs. Cleanknockers spoke. “I came to tell you, Ruby, that you need not fear Emily’s corrosive malignancy any longer. His Lordship has seen to her placement as the ward of a friend of his who specializes in molding malicious spirits. It seems someone though has wasted no time in transferring her puckish loyalty. Had I known you were so easy, Louisa, I would have licked you myself.”
We were mute. Carved puppets of ash, or perhaps soapstone, we danced for our betters’ amusement. The oh-so-familiar resentment washed over me. I glanced sidelong at Louisa. “Why is love forbidden, ma’am? Why must we, who have no recourse, be expected to toil for our board, perform sexual feats daily, yet be denied the comfort of close companionship in the night?” I heard the synchronous soft intakes of snake-like hisses. I fully expected to be tossed bottom-up over Mrs. Cleanknockers’ knees; instead, she exhaled several deep breaths. “You will report to the Gun Room, Ruby, tomorrow morning, after your discipline.”
“As for you, Louisa,” Mrs. Cleanknockers continued with icy diction, “give Ruby what comfort you may, and stay with her all night. Never let it be said, I would refuse the condemned her last request.” With those ominous words, she departed. My legs gave out and I blindly groped for my cot. Louisa lent me her arm and we heavily sat down together, hips bumping and heads touching in joint misery. “What have I done?” I said with teary voice. “A very brave thing, dear Ruby.” Louisa cupped my face and pressed her lips to mine. “A very brave thing.”
My passionate nature, no longer flash frozen in fear, melted in a torrent of lust for this girl in my arms. No matter the sword descending at dawn, all I cared now was to slake my desires. In slow motion, we fell to the horizontal, mouths pressing, molding saliva slicked tongues and plump lips. Palms naturally clasped firm buttocks, upper legs scissoring open as heated moisture freely flowed together. The walls of my tiny room bulged outwards with the sounds of sex. Like a babe, I suckled ruched teats, squeezing ripe mounds together and forcing my mouth to inhale deep.
In the darkness, I imaged Louisa’s bosom to be marked with my teeth, all red and throbbing. Frantic, my blood suffused with fiery humors, I threw my lumpy pillow on the floor, knelt, and yanked her hips to the edge. Like fresh bread crust cracked open, Louisa’s soft and steamy center wafted satisfying scent to my loins. Feminine arousal was the most intoxicating aroma I’d ever experienced. The taste sent me into raptures. Her pussy yielded under pressure, unfurling as an eager flower greets a butterfly, nectar offered in return for sticky stimulation. Her sweet moans guided my exploratory tonguing.
I slid a finger into Louisa’s pulsating treacle pouch. She hissed as I twirled inside and withdrew to pop the tangy digit in my needy mouth. “I’m a little sore, Ruby.” I rested my chin on her pubis. “Do you want me to stop?” She laid a hand on my cheek. “No, darling, for you, any soreness I feel is worth the pleasure you give me.” Her torso gleamed in a slice of moonbeam. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “No one has ever cared for me before like you do. I don’t know how I’ll ever overcome my shame.”
I played with her curls, pulling them taut and combing the wet tangle. “Well… perhaps… if…” She raised up on her other elbow. “What? Tell me, Ruby, what you need from me to atone for this morning.” As I pondered, I lapped her crinkled folds, my chin rocking side-to-side and my eyes turned inward. A very wicked thought made me draw back and grin. “I’m thinking tit-for-tat, Louisa. Or, more accurately, a piss for a piss.” I stood up then crawled over her supine form until my knees gripped her shoulders. I gazed down. “Should I use the chamber pot?”
A seminal moment in my time spent at Peacock House. The heady sense of power inherent in the dominant position; it gave me a window on the world of privilege, allowing me to see clearly, and to accept, my place. I vowed to use my disciplinarians as they used me: for pleasure, for pain, for learning how to punish and to praise in equal measure. “Well, Louisa? Will you willingly submit to me and serve as my little slave girl?” She made no verbal response—then—only sealed tight with her mouth. I relaxed and tensed my bladder in spurts.