In a large room empty except for a long upright ladder and a carpenter’s trestle a beautiful blonde woman is wielding a cane. She is wearing only a pair of brief black French knickers plus dark nylons and high heels and is whipping the cane into the ripe buttocks of a girl who is stretched up face-front to the ladder. This girl, who is perhaps 18 or 19, is wearing only a little black bolero jacket, nothing else. A second girl, maybe a little older than the one being caned, stands to one side. This girl is wearing marginally more than the other two: a black top and a matching short skirt which has a full zip down the front. And this zip is open up to her waist to reveal she has nothing underneath, there is only her nude flesh and her bare black-haired pussy. This second girl, watching with excited eyes, is the blonde woman’s parlour maid. The one being caned is new to domestic service — but probably no one has told her to expect this. That she could be made to strip, and then would get this sickeningly painful caning. She makes a sobbing, gasping sound, as the cane whips in again.
Diana Stanfield rang the bell for her maid, then flopped down in an abandoned but elegant posture in one of the pale cream armchairs in her tastefully furnished sitting room. Her blue eyes had a restless, excited look. She had just come in.
Diana Stanfield was a tall and beautiful blonde. She was also 31. In her twenties she had imagined that being 30 and over would he quite impossible but she had found it wasn’t, not in the slightest. Diana had thought of it as being no longer young, but now at 31 she didn’t think that way at all. Instead 30 had been a landmark; from inexperienced youth into full enjoyment of sensual pleasures. Married to a reasonably wealthy man Diana could afford her pleasures and now she had the confidence to take them, Her maid for instance.
Diana reached for the bell again and gave a second peremptory ring. If Nicole had known the mood her mistress was in she would have come running. Not that this would have made a lot of difference. Because Diana was very much in the mood to use her cane. and so would have anyway found some excuse. Minutes later there was a discreet knock and Nicole entered.
She quietly closed the door, then came quickly to stand in front of her mistress and give a little curtsey. Nicole Marchant was 22 and French, a very attractive girl with dark Mediterranean colouring. She was wearing her formal afternoon uniform of little black silk dress with white collar and cuffs, with dark silk stockings and high heels. A French parlour-maid was of course a sign of class. An English girl did not have that same cachet, nor did other foreign girls. French girls were sophisticated; if you told one what you wanted she would simply say ‘Yes madam’ and comply as long as you were paying an adequate salary.
You couldn’t rely on this with a less sophisticated English girl. It was because French girls were experienced of course. Nicole had told Diana she had been caned by a gentleman as a teenage girl. Going to do little jobs at his house after school — and most days getting caned, on her bare bottom. It wasn’t because she hadn’t done the jobs properly, simply that the gentleman enjoyed caning a young and pretty girl on her bare bottom. Each time he caned her he would pay an extra little bonus afterwards.
In a sharp tone Diana told Nicole she had taken what seemed like half an hour to answer the bell and this was not good enough. Nicole’s big dark eyes met her mistress’s and she saw and recognised the look of excitement. Mrs Stanfield, still in her smart town suit, had just returned from some afternoon appointment that had left her in an aroused state. Perhaps an illicit tryst in which Mrs Stanfield had engaged in the act of sexual intercourse. A young man — or an older one. Because Nicole was aware that Diana Stanfield did indulge in men, a maid got to know these things. Her interests weren’t confined to her own sex. But on the other hand it could have been a girl. A brunette like herself. Mrs Stanfield was especially keen on brunettes.
Nicole murmured an apology knowing with that look in Mrs Stanfield’s eye it would not do her much good. She was going to get a caning. And after that…
Nicole didn’t enjoy being caned. It hurt. Mrs Stanfield usually made quite sure it hurt. But through the searing pain it could also be a turn-on, and after the caning Mrs Stanfield was likely to want something else which if she had been turned-on Nicole could be hot and ready for. Like her mistress Nicole went for both women and men.
Diana curtly announced that she was going to cane Nicole. Getting to her feet and going to the pretty brunette and squeezing her ripe boobs through the slinky black silk dress. Usually she made Nicole strip for a caning, but now she told the French girl she could just tuck the skirt of her dress up round her waist and slide down her knickers. Then bend over the arm of the chair she had just vacated.
Nicole said only a submissive ‘Yes madam.’ Doing as she was told as Diana Stanfield went to get her cane from behind the settee. Under the little dress Nicole had on pale blue silk French knickers and a darker blue suspender-belt for her stockings. The knickers were slipped down to expose the ripe pale moons of her nude bottom. She had not been caned previously today; but had had it yesterday. Those marks were still faintly visible.
Nicole’s breath gasped out and she gave a little grunt as the first stinging stroke landed. Mrs Stanfield didn’t like a lot of noise, she considered it showed lack of discipline and she could use it as an excuse to extend the caning. But on the other little sounds, sharp little yips of pain, were acceptable. They showed that the caning was being effective.
Nicole got six and all stingingly hard ones, her yelps were for real alright. And then Mrs Stanfield’s hand was there. With Nicole still bending over the arm of the chair, caressing her hotly quivering rear… and then sliding in between Nicole’s thighs to her wet pussy. She gave an appreciative groan.
‘Nice and hot now?’ Diana’s husky voice inquired. ‘Hot and ready to… perform, Nicole?’
Removing her hand she pulled the maid to her feet. Her hand groped Nicole’s pussy again, from the front this time, and then in that same husky-with-arousal voice Diana told Nicole what she wanted. It was what she frequently wanted after an energetic session with the cane. Nicole, who was hot from the caning, was happy to oblige.
She knelt to unzip her mistress’s skirt and slide it down. Mrs Stanfield had nothing much underneath. No knickers, just a black suspender-belt for her silk stockings. She stepped out of the skirt, and pressed her hot sex against the maid’s face. Then, still holding the girl’s face to her, slid backwards into the chair, opening her thighs as she did so. Raising her legs, she slid them down over the kneeling girl’s back. Nicole was already at work. Her educated tongue already thrust in between the wet and ready lips of her mistress’s eager pussy. Diana Stanfield let out a shuddery groan…
Afterwards, when Nicole’s practised tongue had brought Diana to a big and satisfying orgasm, she told her. It was the reason for Diana’s excited state of course. And it wasn’t a man, or men. No, it was a girl. Diana Stanfield had this afternoon visited one of the domestic service agencies, Domestic Girl Services. It was one where she was acquainted with the proprietress, and there had been a particular girl. A new girl, only 18 and as yet quite untrained. A very lovely brunette.
Stroking Nicole’s lustrous head Diana added, ‘Of course not more lovely than you, Nicole dear. And I don’t suppose she knows anything at all about anything. For one thing she is English so she won’t have any of that valuable background experience that you French girls get. But she is really sweet, and just crying out to be trained. And they said… that I can have her. For a few weeks. For some special training. Isn’t that really exciting, Nicole dear?’
It was exciting — as long as this new girl didn’t get Mrs Stanfield so hot for her that she wanted to keep her on. Because there was only a position for one parlour-maid in the Stanfield household. A cook-general and one maid, that was the extent of the live-in staff; Mr Stanfield would not want to pay for any more, and there was no work to justify another servant. There was not always a lot of work for Nicole, not on the face of it — but then Mr Stanfield did not know of her other duties, satisfying his wife’s at times urgent sexual drive.
Sensing what might be going through Nicole’s pretty head, Diana hastened to reassure her. This girl, called Susan, would only be with them for a strictly limited period. Diana pulled Nicole to her and kissed her hotly on the mouth.
Susan Robsen stood nervously before poised and elegant Mrs Stanfield in her beautiful sitting room. Mrs Stanfield was to be her mistress, but for a two-week period only. Two weeks of domestic training in the substantial Stanfield residence, located in an exclusive West London suburb. It would be an invaluable experience for her, the lady at the agency had told Susan. Real live experience in an upper-middle-class home was so much better than learning from training staff. There would be Mrs Stanfield herself who had so graciously made the offer, plus her regular maid and the cook who would also be very willing to instruct and inform.
So it was all a marvellous opportunity — but that did not prevent Susan from feeling decidedly nervous, scared even, as now this afternoon she stood before her new mistress for the first time. She was just 18 and had not really been away from home before. And if it hadn’t been for her father’s little business going bankrupt earlier in the year Susan would never have had to contemplate going into domestic service. She would have stayed at home until she found a husband, which for such an attractive and well-brought-up girl would have been no problem at all. But then suddenly out of the blue.
It still brought tears to Susan’s eyes when she thought about it. So it was best not to think about it. Certainly not think about all that might-have-been now, as she stood here before Mrs Stanfield in her new best uniform.
Susan had to have two uniforms, a best one for afternoons and evenings plus a less glamorous one for morning work. The best one was of slinky black silk, short and sexy, with white lace cuffs and collar. It was worn with sheer dark silk stockings and very high-heel patent leather shoes; and with sexy underwear underneath the little black dress. Peach coloured silk knickers plus a black suspender-belt today.
Mrs Stanfield was getting to her feet. Smiling in a friendly way she asked Susan if she could curtsey. Susan felt her face go hot with embarrassment —because she had forgotten that she should curtsey when coming in here and presenting herself to her new mistress. She produced one now, as she had been taught at the agency. Mrs Stanfield, with a tinkly laugh, said it was alright, she knew Susan was new and there was a lot to learn. She came close… and Susan felt Mrs Stanfield’s hand lightly at her bottom.
‘And deportment Susan. Did they tell you anything about that at the agency?’
Susan said ‘No madam.’
Mrs Stanfield said, ‘We’ll have to work on that then. My maid Nicole will be able to show you the elements of good deportment.’ And then her hand fondled Susan’s bottom. Groping the full cheeks under the slinky little dress. In the same sort of way that you knew a coarse common man might grope at your bottom, if he had the opportunity. But this wasn’t someone like that, it was elegant and beautiful Mrs Stanfield! Susan automatically stumbled away.
At once Mrs Stanfield’s voice became icy. Full of menace. ‘Come back here Miss! And stand still! Perhaps you are in need of a course of discipline!’
It was like a bucket of cold water hitting her. Susan stumbled back next to Mrs Stanfield — whose hand immediately took hold of her bottom again.
‘Yes Miss? A little course of discipline. That is the first basic for all domestic servants. And it is taught with the cane. Shall we have a touch of the cane? With this bare.’ Her hand squeezed Susan’s bottom-cheek.
Susan couldn’t believe it! It was like some awful nightmare! But it wasn’t something she was dreaming, it was real, it was happening… She was bending over Mrs Stanfield’s beautiful pale-cream chair. With the little dress tucked up round her waist. And those glamorous peach-coloured knickers pulled down, to the tops of her stockings. So that her bottom was quite bare! Susan half thought she might faint. Mrs Stanfield’s hand was at her bottom. Caressing the silky flesh. It was quite awful, to have her hand there on the bare flesh. But something worse was just about to happen. Even worse than having your bare bottom intimately handled. Yes. The cane! On Susan’s poor bare rear.
Oh dear God! It felt like she had been cut in two! That diabolical cane… had simply sliced her in two.
And a second! As unbearable as the first. Unbearable — but she had to bear it. Because… there was no choice.
Nicole said, ‘That was only a start. Madam mostly will do the caning in the big room. Also you will be wearing a special outfit. Not your maid’s uniform but something else. Not covering very much of you I expect.’
Nicole spoke a heavily French-accented version of English but otherwise had a good command of the language. The two girls were in Nicole’s room, which Susan was going to share for the next two weeks using a put-me-up bed which had been set up near the window. Susan had been caned an hour ago — that first and quite devastating caning. But it was only the beginning. There was more to come. Mrs Stanfield afterwards, stroking Susan’s red-hot bottom, had gloatingly told Susan that. There was quite a lot more to come, she said. Because new and inexperienced Susan was very much in need of disciplining. In need of having her bare bottom caned.
The next stage of this was coming very shortly. Susan was apparently unaware of this but Mrs Stanfield had told Nicole. She was going to want both girls in that room later this afternoon.
Susan looked as if she was about to break into tears. Again — because she had been crying — really sobbing — when she came in. As a result of that caning of course. Nicole went to put her arms round Susan. Making sympathetic sounds. It had been the English girl’s first caning, Nicole had got that out of her already. Hugging Susan, who was now crying again, Nicole recalled her own introduction. It had not been too painful, if that was possible with the cane. Mr Hugelot had just caned her three times — and had then sat down and pulled her across his lap. His hand had slid in between her legs to her pussy and his expert fingers had proceeded to bring her off. He had subsequently done that each time he caned her, so that for Nicole the cane, although it hurt, was inextricably bound up with intense sexual pleasure.
Nicole knew poor Susan hadn’t had that. She had simply been given what sounded like a quite savage caning by Mrs Stanfield. No doubt Mrs Stanfield would want to proceed to the other — but for the start it had just been her sadistic streak in charge. She had only been interested in hurting Susan. Nicole’s hands were caressing the sobbing English girl. She felt a strong desire to do more herself. To get her hand at Susan’s pussy. Her hand… and also her tongue. To get this lovely English girl writhing in the grip of passion.
But that wasn’t possible now. They had both to get back downstairs. To serve tea to Mrs Stanfield and a gentleman visitor who was expected. And after that Mrs Stanfield was going to want a proper session. In her punishment room. Both of them, in Mrs. Stanfield’s special punishment outfits. Were they both going to get it? Maybe — but Nicole guessed Mrs Stanfield’s attentions would be concentrated on the new girl. On poor Susan.
The punishment room was simply a large empty room at the rear of the house. Its windows looked out onto the big back garden — but when you were here you were not admiring the view outside. Mrs Stanfield wasn’t and nor was Nicole. Nor this afternoon was Susan going to be.
Poor breathless Susan’s punishment outfit consisted of a little open jacket and black high heels — nothing else. The jacket was a bolero top of shiny black PVC which had a zip down the front, but the zip was not done up and the little top was completely open. Susan’s full shapely tits were therefore quite nude. As was the rest of her. She had a desperate desire to cover herself, put her hands over her bare tits and her equally bare pussy — but Mrs Stanfield had sharply vetoed that. And had reinforced her command with an equally sharp little cut of her cane.
Diana Stanfield, as she preferred to be for punishment sessions, was also only briefly clad. Sexy black French knickers and a black suspender-belt with black silk stockings and high heels; apart from these and a pair of long black silk gloves she was as nude as the girl she was going to cane.
Nicole, who would probably be getting a taste of the cane too, was in a little black PVC top and matching skirt, the latter with a zip from hem to waist at the front. She was standing with her arms at full stretch above her head to grip a heavy rope dangling from the ceiling beams.
Yes Nicole would no doubt be getting a taste of the cane but there was equally no doubt that Diana Stanfield’s attentions were going to be focussed first of all on this lovely new girl who was with her for two weeks training. Diana had had that preliminary taste with Susan earlier in the sitting room. And then she had had her gentleman visitor. Mr Mantlon was a business acquaintance of Henry Stanfield — and a new and seemingly very ardent admirer of Diana. He had been extremely ardent at his tea-time visit. Even proposed full sexual intercourse there and then. Naturally Diana had not consented (she had only met Mr Mantlon on two previous occasions) — but she had, briefly, fondled Mr Mantlon’s very erect penis through his smartly-cut trousers. So that had been a stimulating visit — and it had only served to increase Diana’s hot desire for Susan. Her hot desire to cane her. And then after that… other pleasures.
This big room where she liked to have her punishment sessions was empty save for a few useful props. A ladder positioned vertically, its top against the ceiling beams; an old carpenter’s trestle; and that heavy length of rope which Nicole was holding onto. A girl could imagine all kind of frightening things being done with that dangling rope… And also quite a lot of unpleasant thing with the ladder and that trestle.
It was the ladder first of all for delicious Susan. Diana Stanfield made the shaking girl stand with her nude front against it and her arms stretching up to their furthest extent, so that only the toes of her high-heel shoes were touching the floor, then grip the highest ladder rung she could reach. This position thrust Susan’s ripe bare bottom out in a most provocative manner. To Diana’s keen eyes it seemed immediately to be crying out for the cane — and as soon as the pretty English girl was in position she let her have a wristy cut of the cane squarely across the full meat of those inviting nates. There was a frantic yelp.
Susan was briskly told to be quiet. ‘Or I’ll give you something to yell about, I’ll flay the skin off that pretty bottom — is that what you’d like?’
She gave Susan a second hard cut, then went over to Nicole. A husky whisper in her ear: ‘I hope you’re really enjoying this, Nicole dear,’ as she slid her hand up between the French girl’s legs to grope her bare pussy. Then Mrs Stanfield was excitedly unzipping Nicole’s skirt and pulling it off. Groping her pussy again.
The spectacle of Susan’s ripe bottom being caned in front of her had got Nicole turned on and now Mrs Stanfield’s hand, on top of this, caused her to gasp out little moans of pleasure and writhe her hips. But moments later the moans became a shocked yelp of pain. Because Mrs Stanfield had stopped her pussy-fondling — and had grabbed the end of the rope and jerked it brutally up between Nicole’s legs.
Diana laughed. ‘Don’t you like that Nicole? Doesn’t it turn you on!’ She yanked the rope hard up again, making it cut agonisingly into Nicole’s pussy, and causing another frantic yell.
‘Nice?’ teased Diana. And do you think our new girl will like it too?’
Susan thought she was going to faint. The intense pain from those two cane strokes was still pulsating through her. And now… She had seen, glancing desperately sideways, what Mrs Stanfield had done to Nicole. With that diabolical rope.
Mrs Stanfield was now forcing Nicole’s legs wide. And with the rope stretched taut, forcing her pussy hard down on it. Nicole made babbling sounds.
Moments later their hot-eyed mistress was striding back to Susan. To give her two more meaty cuts with the cane. And then back to Nicole. This time pulling her over to the trestle. Pushing the yelping Nicole face-down over it. Then whipping the cane into her bare bottom. Once… Twice…
Back once more to Susan. That husky turned-on voice: ‘Now Susan’s turn with the rope. Yes? Nice and hard between her pretty legs.’
Susan let out a desperate shuddering scream. But Mrs Stanfield was dragging her over to the rope.
In bed Susan heard the door quietly open in the dark. Susan had been in bed perhaps an hour but she wasn’t asleep. She couldn’t sleep. Susan’s head was too full of that mind-boggling session in the big room hours earlier. Being caned stretched up against that ladder. Then that fiendish rope yanked hard up between her legs — so that it seemed it was going to cut her in two. Then more caning, over the trestle. And after that she and Nicole both at the ladder — with Mrs Stanfield caressing the two of them.
Licking, kissing their nude bodies.
Susan was alone in the bedroom because in the evening Nicole had been sent to stay the night with a friend of Mrs Stanfield. Her own maid had had to go and visit her mother or something. So Susan was alone — except that now she wasn’t alone. Someone was here. It could be… a burglar… Or Mr Stanfield… Or…
Yes, it was Mrs Stanfield. Sliding into bed with Nicole. Mrs Stanfield was nude, the dressing gown she had been wearing now discarded in a crumpled heap at the side of the bed. Susan gave a frightful little yelp. Mrs Stanfield with a husky laugh was pulling up Susan’s night-gown.
‘Lovely Susan,’ she breathed. ‘You know I believe Mr Stanfield quite fancies you. And maybe I’ll let him have you. Just a little taste, mmm…? But only after I’ve had my own full enjoyment.’