‘So this set-up isn’t how it used to be?’
‘Sweetheart, I’ve been doing this on and off for five years. Obviously I’ve seen some changes. I don’t know if they’re good or bad. To be honest, I’m a little bit worried about Her Ladyship.’
‘Really? Why?’
A bell rang, somewhere along the corridor.
‘Shit. Nap time’s over, babe. We’d better get clean, get dressed and get out of here.’
‘Fuck!’
I leapt towards the old-fashioned sink and scrubbed at my nethers with the rather harsh cloth that hung over the side. I grabbed my blanket and ran for the door, but Damian stopped me just before I reached it for a quick but indecently thorough kiss.
‘Take care, babe,’ he murmured. Then he opened the door and threw me out into the corridor.
I barely had time to brush my hair and try to tone down the flush on my cheeks and the swollen, stretched throb of my nether regions before His Lordship rapped sharply on the door before entering.
His total lack of resemblance to Damian irritated me and I kept my eyes to the floor while he stalked up and around me, inspecting my naked body. Suddenly I became horribly conscious of the tiny red mark Damian had left after sucking on my thigh and I contrived to hide it as unobtrusively as I could, hoping upon hope that His Lordship wouldn’t notice. He didn’t.
‘Lessons, then,’ he said briskly. ‘You will need to put on your uniform and follow me to the study.’
Some laundry fairy had put a fresh, unsnowballed apron in my drawer so I put that on along with the stockings and suspenders and followed my master out of the servants’ quarters and back to the main house. This time, I was not so conscious of my near-nudity, but I was highly conscious of my recently fucked state and sure it would be picked up upon. I kept my buttocks clenched, although they were itching from their recent attentions, and my thighs almost clamped, walking slowly in a geisha-style shuffle along the corridors to the study.
‘Kneel,’ said His Lordship, before he had even turned to face me. I fell to my knees on the Persian rug and watched him open a bureau and rummage inside.
When he turned to face me, he was carrying a leather flogger and several pairs of cuffs.
‘Today’s lesson covers positions. In some ways, it is a test of endurance and stamina. I need to know that I can place my submissives in certain positions and expect them to maintain those positions. If they are unable, of course they earn a punishment. The discipline side of our relationship is very important to me. I need to know that you will accept it without question. Indeed, I will want you to embrace your corrections and to accept them in a meek and joyful spirit, because you know that they are merited and deserved. Do you understand?’
‘I think so, sir. It’s difficult to be joyful about a whipping, though.’
‘Yes. It’s difficult. That’s the whole point, Bottom.’
I nodded sagely. Testing of limits, pushing oneself, finding strengths one didn’t know one had. It all sounded disturbingly reminiscent of a pep talk I’d given my tutor group last year. This BDSM stuff was really just life, sexualised.
‘So, let’s start with the kneeling position. Your knees should be apart, Bottom, at least a foot’s breadth.’
I shuffled them wider, grateful for the minimal coverage of the apron which would at least hide the evidence of Damian upon my body.
‘Now, I need your hands to be clasped on the back of your neck, elbows out. Yes. Back absolutely straight, to enhance your breasts. I need your breasts to jut, Bottom. That’s what everyone will want to see. Firm, prominent tits. Of course, we usually want good hard nipples too. Ah, you can oblige. Marvellous. Sometimes we might help them along the way with a pair of clamps, but that doesn’t seem to be necessary today. Now, I am going to sit at my desk and do some work. You are going to maintain that position until my timer goes off. I’m not going to tell you when that will be. If I see any sagging of the spine, or adjustment of position, I will use the whip. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’
It might have been ten minutes. It might have been an hour. My knees began to ache and so did my nipples. My arms shook and my toes froze, but I didn’t break position. The trick of it was to be somewhere else. I took myself to bed with Damian and stayed there for as long as the timer ticked, reliving the length of his cock and those rude fingers in my backside, his soft, dirty words spoken like caresses, his lean, fit, freckled body.
When the timer went off, my pussy was wet again.
His Lordship put down his newspaper, picked up his flogger and used the handle to check the perkiness of my tits and the width of my thighs. He found nothing to punish. I thrust out my chin and took a deep breath.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Impressive. Are you wet?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Even better. You may stand and shake yourself out a little. Our next position is rather more difficult.’
I followed his order and rose, my knees creaking a little. I wriggled and writhed until he called time and beckoned me over to his desk.