The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 9)

Rough palms caressed my hot cheeks. I pressed back into his touch, waggling my naughty hips; spreading my thighs with silent entreaty. His boots kicked my ankles even wider. I dipped my hips and groaned as his thick fingers probed my now open channel. I adjusted my grip on the far edge of the desk. His heavy cock pressed past my puckered portal into my pulsating pouch: thumbs resting either side of my ridged spine, his fingers wrapped under my somersaulting stomach. He began to move out then back in with majestic sweeps like an Oxford crew on the Thames.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 8)

His stern countenance made me tremble. “Very well, Ruby. Over the desk.” The smooth oak felt so sensuous under my aroused bosom. Tight nipples aching to be squeezed pressed into the grain, thighs flexing as I felt the instant moisture pool on my quim. Fingertips gripped the walnut trim on the far side, toes rose en pointe, bottom presented to his will. Yesterday’s soreness roared to life with the hard blows of leather wrapped maple striking my proffered flesh. I yelped once, settling into a pattern of rapid puffs, breathing through the delicious pain. Take me! I’m a wanton slut!

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 7)

I curtsied, and reflexively removed my uniform. My courses were due any day now; I made a mental note to ask for linens. “Sir? If I may, do you wish to give my daily spanking now?” Pen flying over ledger, he did not look up when he spoke. “I am rather in a lather at the moment, I do not wish you to suffer you the consequences.” I patted my full tummy and discretely burped. “If I may be so bold, Sir, if there is the slightest chance I have caused your temperament to be disagreeable, then punishment is due.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 6)

“I could not, and did not have means to resist my fiancé in exercising his soon-to-be conjugal rights. I thought that was the entire point of the exercise, that men require a female to be subjugated and spanked before sexual congress takes place. Am I incorrect, Sir? I have done everything asked of me, and do not understand your upset.” His fulsome mustache quivered and his eyes bulged. With visible effort, he controlled his flexing hands and leaned forward on bunched fists. “Rest assured, Ruby, I shall get to the bottom of the situation. In the meantime, you may clean.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 5)

Such were my tumbled thoughts when I reported to his study. I was still on probation, subject to regular whippings, but after my virginity vanished, I was only planning my wedding, not trying to upset the social order. “Ruby! What the devil are you about?” I blinked in confusion. “Sir?” His lordship slapped a paper on his desk, apparently annoyed with something I’d done. “This states you allowed Mr. Jones-Smyth to pluck your bud yesterday! I did not give you permission to seduce him!” I was dumbfounded. “Sir. Mrs. Cleanknockers will vouchsafe I was tied to the horse and caned.”

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 4)

There may have been envious glances cast my way, but hunger was the great leveler. His lordship did not stint, even if the true delicacies were reserved for dining in Hall. None of us belonged in that exalted company; the rigid castes of British society may have been bent at Peacock House, but the liberal application of the rod kept everyone in their place. Truly, it was a pity. Every soul dwelling in that place was a prisoner of convention, from the youngest boot boy, all the way to the Master himself. Sex and discipline burst forth, blatantly, yet elegantly.

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The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 8 (Part 3)

Humming happily, I skipped to breakfast, my toes tapping a brisk jig across the runner in servant’s hall leading to the dining area off the kitchen. Curbing my enthusiasm, I genially greeted my fellow maids. Tony—of anal fame—shot me a quick wink when the under-butler turned his back. Other than Louisa, who sat next to me, I had no other friends among the staff. It was not a complaint, simply an observation that my training allowed little time to socialize. The oatmeal was filling the bacon crisp and all present bowed their heads for grace. I was content.

You can go to this page which has links to all the complete previous chapters.