‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘You can’t pretend. You were watching. Come here, girl.’
I exhaled defeatedly and put down the scrubbing brush. When I stood up, ready to present myself, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.
‘What a mess,’ he said. ‘I can’t let you near this suit. Tell you what, since you watched this girl get spanked, I think she gets to spank you. Get on to your knees on the rug. You’ll have to clean it after, though.’
I got on to all fours and saw Liv, from the corner of my eye, adjusting her skirts before coming to kneel beside me. Her hand was small and soft and the spanking she gave me didn’t really
hurt, but the German guests seemed to appreciate it, and so did His Lordship when he entered the room in the middle.
‘What’s her transgression?’ he asked idly, sitting down and picking up the newspaper.
‘She was not paying attention to her work.’
‘Oh dear. We will have to address that at dinner time. We have guests for a formal supper tonight – there will be twenty of us, all told. They’ll enjoy a little show.’
My cunt spasmed at his words and I pushed my bottom back into Liv’s line of fire.
‘That’s enough, Liv,’ said His Lordship. ‘You, Bottom, get on with your work. I want that grate spotless. When it’s done, you can get cleaned up and serve at the breakfast table.’
During the course of that morning, it became startlingly apparent just how dull complete submission could be. I spent over an hour standing, holding a tray in the drawing room, while the guests lounged about chatting about the snow.
After that I was sent to the kitchen to polish some silver. No matter what the context, polishing silver just wasn’t going to do it for me, and there was no sign of Damian, just Kat, Liv and the other girl yammering on and ignoring me.
But, just before lunchtime, I was finally summoned and told to present myself outside beneath the large oak tree.
‘Outside … ma’am?’ I asked Kat, staring out at the snowscape. ‘Do I get a coat to wear?’
‘No. Go on, they’re waiting for you.’
The guests, all wrapped up in scarves and huge long coats, stood clapping gloved hands and glowing by the old tree. I stepped out of the French windows and almost screamed. It was so cold my nipples turned to instant bullets, tight with pain at first before numbing. But I tottered over on my high, high heels until I stood before them, head bowed and hands at my side, as I’d been instructed, making sure I didn’t cover any of my accessible orifices.
His Lordship wrapped a length of rope about my wrists, then looped it over a low branch of the tree.
‘An endurance test for you, Bottom, and a bit of fun for us,’ he said, tugging the rope until my arms were high above my head. ‘Keep your feet wide apart. Like that.’
He patted my rump and stepped away from me, turning to the guests.
‘Right then. Target practice. Five points for her tits, ten each for her arse or cunt. Who’s going first?’
They spent ten minutes pelting snowballs at me until the impacted ice slithered down my thighs and over the curve of my breasts, torturing my nipples, thawing on my clit, soaking my apron and stockings. I shivered and squealed, trying to twist away from the onslaught, but they were merciless, laughing and comparing scores, scooping up more snow the more I moaned.
Before I turned blue, they took pity on me, untying me and supporting my shivering body back inside. His Lordship laid me down on a sheepskin rug in front of the now roaring drawing room fire and caressed me gently while I warmed back up, crooning that I was a good girl and had done well and 90 per cent of other submissives would have safeworded after a minute.
Pride seeped through my heating blood, along with the relief of warmth. I was going to beat this. I was going to win. I was going to be the best trainee he’d ever had.
‘I think you’ve earned your lunch,’ he said. ‘I’ll send down to the kitchen for a bowl of something for you. But first, when you’re warm enough, I have a little appetiser for you.’
The appetiser was the cocks of all four of the men, followed by the ladies’ juicy pussies. I sucked and licked at them all, on my knees between theirs, draining every last drop until each was replete and red-faced and ready to dine.
While they ate, I was made to stick my face into a bowl of sloppy pasta salad and eat it like a dog, with my hands behind my back, which was messy but possible.
‘She’s good, Marcus,’ commented one of the Germans. ‘Where did you find her?’
‘At a slave auction, showing herself off like the whore she is,’ he replied. ‘We’ll have fun with her tonight. Stand up, Bottom. Christ, what a mess you’ve made of yourself. Go and wash it off, then you have permission to take a two-hour nap. After that, you have a lesson with me.’
The nap was just what I needed, but I woke after an hour, shivering under my scratchy prison-issue blanket while the bedsprings creaked. Outside the barred window, the sky had that iron-grey cast that presaged more snow.
I sat up and looked around. The other maids must all be busy; distant kitchen noises travelled from one direction while I could hear music floating down from the floor above. I got up and the bedspring creaked again, then again.