victorian – Page 9 – Spank Me Hard! … Please?

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 26)

November 5, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

Mrs. Cleanknockers stood over me with mouth agape. I continued my verbal assault. “His Lordship’s study was a mess! All those books covered with dust and I noticed – when bent over for the strap – his desk had no smell of beeswax. Does no one clean Peacock House? Is there no pride in work? Force me to prance naked ma’am and I will, but I refuse to be held responsible for such slovenly rooms.” I folded my arms and waited to be slapped. Instead, her hands clasped my cheeks and her lips hovered close. “Do you truly submit to me Ruby?”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 25)

November 4, 2016lurvspanking2 Comments

“I am not afraid ma’am. You’ve stripped me, cleansed me, punished and rewarded me. I care not what you and His Lordship do to me, nor do I care about some moldy pagan sex rituals plastered on these walls. You cannot break me no matter the volume of tears wrung from my eyes or orgasms grabbed from my pussy. I accept my lowly position under your whip: if that is prideful, so be it, I will submit to chastisement. I am however offended by this room. Look ma’am at the tarnish! The dust on the wainscoting, the dull scuffed floors!”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 24)

November 3, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

I peered closer at the walls and gasped in outrage. “Something wrong Ruby?” Mrs. Cleanknockers sounded amused. “Permission to speak freely ma’am.” At her curt nod I launched into a diatribe. “This is offensive! How can this be possible? All this filth!” She laughed and patted my head as if a lapdog. “It’s only a few orgy scenes although I will allow the positions are artistic license. You could drive a wagon up her snatch and no trouser serpent I’ve ever handled has had that girth. Or is it the whips you fear?” I shot her a look of scorn.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 23)

October 28, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Gentle Reader: do not be alarmed. The description I am about to reveal was not gleaned in one visit but rather a compilation over my year at Peacock House. Contrary to the bestowed title, there were no guns stored inside: only instruments of discipline and for arousal. Interspersed with oils of hunting hounds and stately homes were canes, strops, paddles, chains and clamps hung from tarnished brass hooks. Other items as well, leather wrapped tubes, ivory horns, plugs of India rubber and other esoteric artifacts in chestnut cedar-lined drawers. Padded tables and chairs sat against walls papered with ancient Rome.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 22)

October 27, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

“There you are Ruby,” Mrs. Cleanknockers swept in with the force of a November gale. “His Lordship informs me he is finished using you today.” She drank a cup of tea and nibbled a scone while studying me thoughtfully. “The evening meal will be at eight. Until then…” She tapped her foot. “Come with me Ruby.” I followed dutifully in her formidable wake. Lifting a key on her chatelaine she unlocked the stout door I vaguely remembered from earlier. “I traditionally assign the Gun Room cleaning duties to the newest maid. I expect with your temperament you’ll be here often.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 21)

October 24, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

“Thank you miss,” I murmured. “Do not thank me Ruby,” Miss Frothinglips said stiffly, “I will collect my due.” I shivered… not completely in fear. There were tea and pastries laid out in the kitchen: a steady rotation of maids came and went. Two of the footmen strode in: I blushed and hastily averted my gaze. Their trousers were buttoned down in the back, the open flap exposed red striped flesh. Emily and Louisa shuffled by, eyes downcast and skirts rucked up: their bottoms were bruised and scarlet. I gasped involuntarily. The narrowed sideways glances promised retribution at my clothed appearance.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 20)

October 23, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

All coherent poise fled on downy wings as his hard finger pads grabbed my quim. Palm and thumb rubbed: I fell into the abyss of sin once more. If not anchored firmly on both ends, the chair and I would have splattered. His Lordship forced two crises. I panted, sloe-eyes lidded, in my mouth his wet hand replaced hers, as a mongrel bitch in heat, I lapped and suckled digits, my carnal appetite apparently insatiable. Two hard feminine slaps. I unsteadily clambered off the chair. My uniform restored, hem to mid-shin, eyes downcast, cheeks marked. Miss Frothinglips led me away.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 19)

October 21, 2016lurvspanking1 Comment

“Poor show Ruby, I expected better from you,” His Lordship remonstrated. “I do not wish to hear such pathetic bleating again. Perhaps a long session with Mrs. Cleanknockers will teach you proper forbearance.” I could not stem my copious tears. “M’lord,” Miss Frothinglips wiped my cheeks dry, “have pity, it is after all her first day at Peacock House. She did a splendid work upon your tomes: the gilt fairly gleams.” Head bowed I did not see my tormentors pass wicked thoughts. “Very well,” m’lord grumped. I flinched when he once more touched my hot dry flesh above: wet below.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 18)

October 16, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Streaks of flame lanced my bulge. Miss Frothinglips stood close before me. She allowed my arms around her corseted waist, wrists locked at small of her back. Her hands combed my hair: lawn handkerchief caught my tears. The pain from the leather strap radiated, one stroke only absorbed before the next burned ever hotter. M’lord did not hold back, twas not his style, but beat me hard all the while I writhed and cried for Miss Frothinglips’ pleasure. Still, shameful treatment as it was, my sex throbbed and oozed with each searing blow. At the last excruciating swipe I screamed.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 17)

October 15, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

I was released of a sudden and directed to set my shod feet upon the oak floor. I was so combustible I feared the act of walking to the storage closet would cause an explosion. “Before Miss Frothinglips escorts you to dinner, there is the slight matter of discipline and reward.” I was not so subtly nudged towards a red leather wingback chair. She bade me straddle backwards, knees balanced on padded arms, pushed my upper torso down until bodice and arms dangled over the top. My skirt was yanked even further wide and tucked beneath waist. “Twenty more Ruby.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 16)

October 14, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

“May I m’lord?” Miss Frothinglips’ gentle dulcet vowels contrasted sharply with her strong thumbs as they dug into my rear crease. Her nails bit. My knuckles slowly whitened. The pail rattled against the stile. “Jut your buttocks outward Ruby,” His Lordship commanded. He clasped my hands where they clenched the rungs: the vertical lean barely accommodated his bulk. I dipped my knees and squatted, by sore bottom mooned rudely. Eight dainty digits peeled my peach, I felt warm puffs of air; her thumbs prodded my soaked purse, a forefinger pressed my rosebud. “Mr. Steedstiff will appreciate this naughty one m’lord.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles Chapter 2: (Part 15)

October 13, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

She was the epitome of aristocratic womanhood sprung whole from oil paintings of old. Of medium height, with walnut tresses coiled atop softly rounded serene hazel-green eyes, her pale complexion gazed with utmost confidence of her station. Miss Frothinglips was Lord Caneshard’s ward, social hostess and, with supercilious hauteur, regularly drained the footman of inferior seed. All this, and perfect diction. I hated her. I tucked the pail in my crook and with careful steps made my way near the floor. Chilled silken palms lightly slid over my ankles, up my calves and near my dampened thighs. “You are aroused.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 14)

October 10, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

The slanted beams of thick rich light struck the brass railing as I cleaned the last of the uppermost books. All afternoon steady commerce flowed through m’lord’s hands: I’d listened with uncomprehending ear to the litany of complaints, compliments and conclusions. On occasion, male hands had grasped the ladder sides and carefully maneuvered me further along the shelves. I’d murmured my thanks. They’d taken recompense by avid examinations of my revealed charms safely out of reach. A mechanical cough heralded the deep bong of half past from the mantel clock. “Ah, Miss Frothinglips, assist Ruby as she dismounts the ladder.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 13)

October 9, 2016lurvspanking4 Comments

My fingers traced the gold gilt on the leather bindings. Never before had I seen more than a dozen books in one place. M’lord had thousands, many in languages unknown. Per instructions, I removed each one, dusted and cleaned the shelf, then moved to the next. I was on the penultimate step of a rolling ladder. A pail swung from a hook. My hips twitched, my buttocks visible, my front thatch peeped: I continued to weep arousal. Voices from below, tenors and bass, alto and sopranos, I stared forward and worked without cessation. I wanted a hand… betwixt my thighs.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 12)

October 8, 2016lurvspanking3 Comments

I curtseyed: my rear remained exposed. “After chastisement all members of my staff are left bare as a reminder.” I must have looked stricken. He patted my cheek my secretions still glistened then ran his damp forefinger slowly over my pouted lips. “Ruby you will see many a nude female and male posterior during your sojourn under my care. All will be red and marked. Later in the Gun Room, all those thusly disciplined will be brought to culmination under the tutelage of Miss Frothinglips and Mr. Steedstiff. Pleasure is only for those who atone.” My tongue tasted my cunny.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 11)

October 3, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

As I recall, I moaned, dipped my knees and widened my stance at his firm touch. Licentious hussy, I was now a slave to passion. M’lord chuckled, not unkindly, but with knowing anticipation of my journey about to commence. He rubbed harder between my folds. “At Peacock House, everything is earned. Knowledge, income, pain and…” he pinched my ‘spot’ tightly “pleasure.” I squealed. “Stand up and turn round.” My legs shook: my upper thighs were wet. “Your assignment for the coming week is to clean this room daily. If…by half past four you have performed well, I will reward you.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 ( Part 10)

October 2, 2016lurvspanking6 Comments

M’lord spanked me hard and fast over skin already scalded and sensitized. To my consternation, my secretions flowed ever faster at his masterful treatment. As he punished he lectured, “Vulgarity has a time and a place Ruby, my study, under my hand, is neither.” He plunged one finger deep inside my womanly passage. I lay down my head: heated cheek on the cool wood surface while my hips danced his saucy tune. “The little death, an orgasm, a spend, a cum; do you wish a repeat of Mrs. Cleanknocker’s gift?” His thick thumb probed rear portal still tender and slack.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 9)

October 1, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

Where trimmed feminine fingers had coaxed, now, tribute was demanded. Hastened by shallow strokes as thumb rubbed dry tissues, I felt dampness seep from my wicked core. After only one such cataclysmic event I had fallen into depravity worthy of the most wanton Covent Garden light skirt. I didn’t care. “Your report states you had never before experienced le petit mort Ruby.” I gasped as m’lord grazed my erect nub. Lightning flashed to my mouth. “I don’t speak French sir, I’m a nobody turned shameless whore.” SMACK! SMACK! The loud retorts of hand on buttocks resounded. “That word is forbidden.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 8)

September 30, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

I obeyed. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! I lifted my buttocks higher to meet the swung leather. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! M’Lord was also an artisan of the corporal trade. On the soft and yielding canvas of my nubile body he painted a solid red overlay; the cane tramlines submerged as if a fevered dream forgotten. I broke my promise: I cried out and stamped, begged for forgiveness. Well presented for correction, naïve as I was, I knew there existed more. Mrs. Cleanknockers had gently primed my pump: m’lord drew down the liquid treat with masculine authority. Short, stubby, his digits penetrated.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 7)

September 26, 2016lurvspankingLeave a comment

“Mrs. Cleanknockers is an artist with the stick,” m’lord said with approval. He squeezed firmly. I was determined to take my punishment in silence. I learned something that day: the male fingers are nothing like the female touch. The leather strap lay cool and slick on my bare hindquarters. The first blow is always a shock. The sharp snap rings in your ears. The bite on your flesh stings, there is a delayed reaction as the mind tries to reconcile sound and burning sensation. The second blow compounds the confusion. The third and the fourth: you hiss. “Lift up Ruby.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 6)

September 25, 2016lurvspanking7 Comments

Gentle Reader, I have not yet mentioned the uniforms: even today, worn for my husband’s pleasure allows a blush. The Ladies Journals with engravings of floor length modest dresses: we maids were not allowed such protections and, except during our delicate time of the month, no undergarments. Unaware, until m’lord reached behind me, there was a drawstring, when pulled and hooked to a button at my lace collar, raised the flounced hem in back as a curtain at a bawdy play. My entire nether cheeks were exposed to a male gaze for the first time. M’Lord traced the cane welts.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 5)

September 24, 2016lurvspanking14 Comments

I gulped back sobs as His Lordship shut the wardrobe. “I was going to strap you later after you’ve dusted, but based on your hysterical overwrought theatrics you’ve now earned twice daily discipline for the next week.” He touched my tear stained cheeks and smiled affectionately. “You are not going to be ‘sold’ you silly chit: all my girls are offered the opportunity of marriage to established men of the mercantile class. We will train you in the social and amorous arts and provide you with ample funds. Now! Bend over my desk Ruby and prepare to be soundly strapped.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 4)

September 23, 2016September 23, 2016lurvspanking12 Comments

Through thick fringe I covertly watched as m’lord rose and walked to a tall wardrobe. The doors were swung open and he pulled a tray outwards. I saw hundreds if not thousands of vertical folders in varying thicknesses. “Ruby, luscious Ruby,” m’lord muttered softly and placed my fate into a vacant slot. “Please m’lord,” I beseeched, “I’ll do whatever you say, but don’t sell me to a brothel!” M’lord spun around. “What on earth?” His mouth gaped. “I heard Mrs. Cleanknockers sir!” I could not prevent the tears. “Ruby! Cease your caterwauling at once! This is not a Penny Dreadful!”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 3)

September 19, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking5 Comments

Mrs. Cleanknockers handed over a thin folder. “Ruby’s intake m’lord.” She paused. “If I may be so bold m’lord, I believe that she would suit Mr. Jones-Smyth admirably.” I felt Lord Caneshard’s intense scrutiny on my bowed skull. “You state she’s untutored.” My mind raced in panic: had I been deceived? Had I fallen into the evil and depraved clutches of White Slavers? “Untutored yes m’lord, but very responsive.” I felt Mrs. Cleanknockers gloved hand raise my frightened chin. “Obey His Lordship Ruby and you will prosper.” She pressed her moist lips firmly to mine and swept out the door.

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 2)

September 18, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking11 Comments

The dark oak walls were lined with stuffed animals heads and stuffier ancestral portraits. I giggled nervously as naughty thoughts of mounted Lords filled my mind. My mirth was doused by the stern glare I received from Mrs. Cleanknockers. “This is the Gun Room Ruby,” said icily, “where you will be trained and chastised.” We passed by the locked door. There was no sign that stated ‘Abandon all hope’ but it was implied in her tone. She knocked on m’lord’s office and we entered. “Ruby sir.” I curtsied and when prodded, approached the desk. “You’ve been willful I understand. Excellent!”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 2 (Part 1)

September 17, 2016September 21, 2016lurvspanking8 Comments

Dressed in my new black and white uniform, Mrs. Cleanknockers led me to the kitchen, introduced Cook, and fed me lunch with the downstairs staff. As the new girl the maids and footmen scrutinized me closely for signs of moral failure. Clearly I was not welcome and the slights were not long in manifesting. I ate my meal in silence while Mrs. Cleanknockers grilled her underlings and assigned the afternoon roster. I was exempt: I had an appointment with Lord Caneshard. The sly grins and elbows did not go unnoticed. “Emily and Louisa. Report to the Gun Room at 2.”

The Bumhampton Chronicles: Chapter 1

September 15, 2016January 17, 2017lurvspanking23 Comments

“The Bumhampton Chronicles”

There was an old man in the cottage at the end of the lane on every day at 2:30 in the afternoon took his curly-coated black terrier for a walk. Quartz gravel crunched softly beneath his booted feet. Dressed in a corduroy jacket with worn leather patches, rain or shine the gentle thud of his cane echoes between the hedgerows.

He goes to the pub for a pint and then the post office to mail a letter. After, he crosses the road and reads the real estate listings. He buys a loaf of bread at the grocers and then returns home where he opens a tin of sardines and pours a glass of red wine. If you ask the villagers, who amongst them is eccentric they will point at the old man in the cottage at the end of the lane.

Look at him shuffling along. Sad isn’t it? To think of whom he once was. You mean you don’t know who that is? That, my friends was his Lordship. Yes, a real Lord: with a title and everything! The Venerable Lord Caneshard the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton. A silly title you must agree, but it suited him. Now look at him; talking with his dog, posting a letter everyday with another true episode of his memoirs. Problem is, no one believes him the poor sod. They all think he’s gone around the bend. I’ll tell you a secret though. Every word is true.

Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m telling you this because I know the truth. Who am I? My name is Slapumcheeks; but my friends call me Ruby. I should know about His Lordship, because I was on the receiving end many times of his particular method of motivation. You see Lord Caneshard strongly believed that young ladies of a certain class needed regular exercise and discipline in order not to fall in with the wrong crowd. That’s right, spanking, caning, whipping, strapping; my poor sore bottom was thoroughly chastised on many an occasion. I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Lord Caneshard ………

“Your Lordship?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Your nine o’clock appointment is here sir.”
“Thank you, Miss Frothinglips. Show her in.”

I walked into a large, illuminated study, shelves upon shelves of books lining both sidewalls. I must have looked a fright, gawking like a provincial rube, but I’d never seen so many books before in my life. I could read, after a fashion, but I was feeling out of place in this luxurious manor. His Lordship had stood up when I entered the room, and I started when I realized he was staring at me. I blushed and dropped a fumbling curtsy.

“Your Lordship.”

He nodded at me, and motioned towards a leather wingback to the left of his magnificent desk. I sat down, and nervously clasped my hands in my lap.

“I believe you have something for me?”

I reached into by reticule and pulled out a sealed letter from my previous employer. I made to get up, but he bade me stay seated and came around his desk to receive the missive. Perching on one corner, he cracked the seal and proceeded to read the contents. I covertly studied him as he perused my life’s work. He was short, maybe 5′ 6′, with reddish hair and a mustache. His clothes were of the finest cut and gems sparkled in his waistband. He finished reading, and setting down the papers, reached down and lifted my chin in his calloused hand.

“How old are you child?”
“I’m 18 and three quarters sir.”
“You have very fine credentials, Mrs. Allechat speaks quite glowingly of your morals and ethics.”
“I try sir.”
“Yes, well we shall see about that. I must say though, there is no mention of instances of discipline listed. Were you not punished ever?”

I do realize that in these enlightened times corporal punishment is frowned upon. However, in our time, a spanking was considered normal and nothing to froth on about. I explained to His Lordship, that I was occasionally smacked, but never more than once a month. He frowned at that, and muttered that perhaps I was not suited for this position after all. I swallowed hard, and asked in a meek voice what would I be expected to endure.

“All my girls are thrashed at least once a week, and with new girls, I always break them in with daily, if not twice daily discipline.”

The shock must have shown on my face. I certainly felt light headed. Never in my wildest dreams, could I have envisioned that at 18 and three quarters years of age, I would fall into the clutches of a upright man such as this. I was ecstatic, but I managed to remain calm.

“My apologies Your Lordship, I did not understand the requirements of the position. Perhaps, it would be best if I left.”
“Nonsense girl. It is my duty as the Lord of the Manor to provide both discipline and a healthy, happy work environment.”
“I….”
“Besides, where else were you planning to go?”

He was right of course. As an orphan, my prospects were bleak; this was the 10th interview I had been to, but this was this first job that I was interested in enough to commit my bottom too. I did not want to wind up out on the streets selling my virtue for pennies.

“Very well, sir. Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”
“There is a rigorous and cleansing examination before you are officially hired. Need to make sure you are flexible to do the proper job. Stand up please.”

I stood up in front of the chair.

“Stand up straight girl! I expect all my girls to be willing and able to whatever it takes to satisfy his Lordship. No milquetoasts on my watch! Hrumph!!! You are nicely built, sweet face; let me see the rear view. Ah!!!! Excellent form. I say, good show.”

*smack* *smack* The quick spanks on my bottom caught me by surprise.

“Yes girl, your backside will get quite the workout with my strap. I am looking forward to your working for me. So, are ye interested in the post? It comes with room and board, 10 pounds a week with one day a week off plus regular and rigorous discipline. Speak up lass, now’s not the time to be shy.”

I of course, said yes; and thus began a most educational journey into the lives of masters and servants and men and woman. Would you like to hear more?

Peacock House was a trim country manor. His Lordship ruled over miles in all directions, including the little village of Lower Bumhampton. I was guided by another servant, Anna, and made my way to the rear of the manor and the servant’s quarters where I was met with the very severe and formidable Mrs. Cleanknockers. She pursed her lips and glared at me. I lowered my gaze demurely and spoke of His Lordship’s desire to have me cleansed and examined.

“Well, I determine who is allowed to stay at the manor miss, and you can be sure that when I am done with you, your very innards will squeak.”

I must interject here; I was in fact, quite naive. I was raised in the city, and thus had no congress with young men, other than the uncouth tradesman and street urchins. My mama, when she was still alive, God rest her soul, was not one to explain the bodily functions. I bathed once a week, as was normal; that is until I started employment. Truth was, at that age I was very shy and private. Had I only known…

“Stand over here Miss, against the wall.”

She measured my height, and used a scale to find my weight. Her hands roamed freely over my covered limbs, and she bent me forward and back in all directions. I was dizzy, and the pins in my black hair had come loose, causing a cascade down my back.

“Very well, you will now disrobe. If you pass muster, then all your clothes will be provided for you.”
“Disrobe?”
“Are you disobeying me already miss?”
“No ma’am, but there is no screen.”
“Child, privacy is not a concern at this place. Disrobe or leave.”

What choice did I have? I must admit to tears as I undid my buttons on my floor length frock, and handed it over to her waiting arms. My chemise was next, and as I did not wear undergarments, I was soon naked and shivering as I cowered under her stern gaze.

“Stand up straight! Thrust your chest out!”

Two quick strikes, one on each bottom cheek, and I was stiff and rigid as a Guardsman at attention. Thus began the examination; Mrs. Cleanknockers ran her fingers through my hair, probing my skull. She checked my ears, my eyes; her fingers entered my mouth and gently massaged my teeth. Her roved lower, always lower until my breasts lay in her strong palms. She squeezed, like a melon, checking for soft spots, and then, and then. Oh my, I thought as she plucked and rolled my stiff nipples. Hard points, in and out, stretching: I cried out as she tormented my flesh.

“Good response. You like pain, I can tell.”
“No Ma’am, it hurts.”
“Little liar. M’Lord will soon enough cure you of that trait.”

Continuing now, she loosed my red and inflamed bosom and seized both arms and once more checked my flexibility. My hands, and nails did not pass muster, but she merely murmured ‘later’. My torso was next, then, she spun me around and pushed her thumbs hard into my shoulders and down my spine. I was just a puppet in her capable hands and I began to sense something stirring in my unmentionable areas. My lower extremities did not go unnoticed, but I was bade sit on a towel that rested on a stone counter, next to a sink and a floor drain. I tried, I tried still to be modest, but after massaging my sore feet and calves, she ran her hands up my thighs and patted them. Her intent was clear, she wished me to spread them wide.

“Please? No?”

She walked away without a word and opened a cupboard. Returning with a stiff riding crop: tap, tap, she touched my thighs once more, but I just shook my head and wept in shame. Thus began my first whipping, but by no means my last, at Peacock House. At the time, I screamed with the pain, it was so severe; what did I know, I was an innocent. In truth, she was very careful, and struck with just sufficient force, repeated blows raining down on my upper thighs. How many? I do not know, but when I looked down expecting to see blood, all there was, was a pinkish hue to my skin. I looked up through the film of my tears, and nodded. She stopped at once, and then tapped me with her hands once more. This time, I spread my legs as wide as I could while she poked and prodded my inner thighs.

“Lay back, and raise your knees to your chest; grasp them firmly with your hands, and keep them wide spread for me.”

The screeching of wooden legs on the stone floor grated on my nerves as she positioned a stool in front of my feminine opening.

“Are you still a virgin?”
“Yes,” I replied with some vigor. “I am a proper girl!”
“I shall soon find out if you are telling the truth.”

Thus now, the examination portion was drawing to a close, and the cleansing portion soon to commence. But first, I felt a stranger’s touch on me. Down there: the place of bleeding shame and pain. What possible connection could still being a virgin have to do with my monthlies? Once more, those strange feelings swirled in my tummy as several fingers rubbed me down there, up and down. I thought I heard faint squishing noises, but then all else fled as a slender digit entered my body! My back arched, and I squealed as she manipulated me and probed deeper and deeper.

“Ah, you are intact, excellent. You will be quite the prize filly for some lucky man. Move your bottom over the edge, keep pulling back. Further, further.”

By now, my knees were pressing against my chest and just when I believed that my ordeal was over, another shock. A greased finger slid abruptly up my fundament! I do not have to explain the shame I felt being treated this way, yet, yet; a part reveled in this treatment of me. I realized that Mrs. Cleanknockers was not being cruel, but that she was in fact quite efficient at her job. She then slid a second finger in my nether hole, whilst returning yet again to my womanly opening. I could feel, oh I could feel her fingers touching inside of me through both holes and my body began to rock ever so slightly. I gave myself over to the rush of new sensations and closed my eyes.

I was climbing. I was soaring as Mrs. Cleanknockers’ wicked manipulation had caused all sense of propriety to flee. My hips, my bottom, my cunny; all had betrayed me, and they all worked in consort with her fingers and thumbs. Then, all thought faded as she touched a certain spot that flared like a torch and the heat engulfed my blood. I know that I shrieked then, but even as I prayed to God for His forgiveness and mercy, my lower holes thrust harder and harder upon her hot flesh. So this is lewdness I marveled, and I sinned willingly and cast my soul into the flames of Hell.

Just like that; I would have wept, but I cared not. Something was happening, something that my body knew well, but that I did not. She rode me hard, did Lust. Lust whipped my flanks and she drove me ever onwards with biting spurs as she caused rivulets of secretions to pour from all my orifices. The ground fell away abruptly as I had a fit, and my muscles locked in rigid display. Dangling in air, I fell. I fell hard, and a sound issued from my throat. I can only describe what happened that first time, as the sound of a thousand crystal goblets shattering on a marbled ballroom floor.

My senses slowly returned and I discovered myself being cradled in Mrs. Cleanknockers arms, her cleaned hands brushing my hair.

“Your first spending?”
“I’ve never… What was that? What happened to me?”

She laughed then, a silvery tinkle, which brought to mind skylarks in spring display. Not unkindly, she kissed me lightly on my trembling lips and squeezed me tight.

“You’re a precious jewel, sweet Ruby. We will have such a time together. You will learn, and be well rewarded for your efforts.”

So saying, she eased me down off the counter and led me to a small antechamber. My cleansing was nearly at hand, but this, I knew well; though to my fevered mind, all the apparatus appeared sinister and foreboding. Hanging on steel hooks, implements of correction covered one entire wall: canes, straps, paddles and many others. If the purpose of this display was to intimidate, it succeeded, for I fairly leapt onto the padded table and assumed the prone position on my belly.

Miss Cleanknockers busied herself at the sink, mixing and filling several bags, four in all. I waited, and watched, if not serenely, at least resigned to my fate at last. Lavender and sage, the tang of mineral oil wafted across my nose as my face lay resting on the sheet. Finished with her preparations, she approached my upturned bottom cheeks and gently spread them wide exposing my quivering anus. Her forefinger once again penetrated my inner recesses and twirled, lubricating the dark and humid corridor. She reached back, and pulled the pump closer and pressed the nozzle firmly in. One thrust, slow but sure. It was enormous, much larger than anything I’d ever felt before. My hands clenched the fabric on which I knelt, as a high-pitched mewling noise issued from between taut lips.

“Are you hurt?”
“No miss, it is very large though, and so deep!”
“Not as large or deep as the real thing will be my dear.”

Fully plugged, I arched my back and presented: raising my hips ever higher, desperate to ease the fullness. She released the stop, and warm soapy water, in a relentless flood, invaded my bowels. Perhaps to modern sensibilities, this seemed obscene, but back then, regular purging were prescribed for all types of ill humors. I could not even tell you how many I had endured already in my life, but this treatment at least I thought I could pass with flying colors. And I did, if a red striped bottom indicates success.

Gentle Reader, if you have never undergone a full course of enemas then you cannot truly know the urgency with which the urge to expel strikes the laboring bowels. I had learned much control, though of still tender years, and I tried to impress Mrs. Cleanknockers with my stoicism. The first bag was emptied, and she reached under my torso and rubbed my slightly protruding stomach. At least a quarter of an hour passed as the solution churned and sloshed in my innards until at last, she brought over a large basin and directed me squat directly over while she removed the nozzle. I did my business, with the minimal of fuss; closing my senses to the sounds and smells. She wiped back there, and removed the basin to the adjacent water closet. She was gone so long I wondered perhaps she was divining my future, like a gypsy reading tea leaves. I giggled to myself as I once more clambered onto the table.

The second and third courses went much the same, the third being an herbal concoction that smelled heavenly and felt even better. She allowed me use of the WC for that expulsion and I was actually smiling when I returned. That faded as I spied the last bag. A full gallon, with a nozzle twice the girth of what had been used before and shaped with a queer bulbous head. I did not protest, but meekly followed her directions as she had me lay facing her on my side, with the top leg drawn up to my chest. To my shock and amazement, the fearsome weapon slid in with ease, and Mrs. Cleanknockers spent many minutes gliding the probe in and out of my clenching rosebud, until thrusting it home to the root. This bag was plain water with extract of peppermint, and as it gurgled in, I could feel a burning sensation moving slowly higher and higher until it reached my tummy. She took my hands and laid them on my slowly inflating stomach.

“Just think Ruby, this is what you will feel like when you are with child and ready to birth.”
“I’ll birth through my arse?”

She merrily laughed again at me, but I was truly vexed.

“I am so sorry that my innocence and ignorance amuses you. I am just a simple girl with no prospects, except to be abused for the rest of my life.”

She said nothing, but I sensed an immediate chill in the room as she monitored the last drops. I heard a crinkling noise, and then as she withdrew the flared nozzle, she replaced it with what felt like a cork that went but a short distance within, but blocked all egress of the liquid. I sat up and looked down, ashamed of my outburst, although it was all true to my nature.

“Miss Slapumcheeks, you will stand up and walk to the far wall and choose an implement of chastisement. Then return and bend over the table.”

I didn’t walk, I waddled and as I gazed upon the multitude of items hanging there, my eyes were drawn to a long, thick cane. I handed the cane to her, bent over and waited.

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “not…” WHAP “ignorant…” WHAP

“You…” WHAP “are…” WHAP “simply…” WHAP “untutored…” WHAP

She drove her lesson home, with three more quick strikes on the tops of my thighs and I gasped as the welts stung my entire bottom in regular stripes that rose like puffed pastry. She spun me around to face her and inserting the tip of the cane between my legs, lightly tapped at my still wet sex.

“This virginal opening is where a man will plant his seed, and your womb is where your babe will grow. You will birth through this selfsame opening nine months later. All of this knowledge will be given to you, and much more. You, dear Ruby, will have a chance that few other girls will ever see. A chance to be an independent woman of means.”