A story by Tomas.
As the carriage pulled up outside the country house high up in the Chiltern Hills, the noise of the wheels and the horses hooves, alerted Rosy that the new tweeny had arrived.
Of course it was not normal practice for a junior maid to arrive by carriage, and at the front door. This though was not a regular new staff member, the occupant of the carriage was Amelia Cranforth, highly educated daughter of a vicar from a hamlet just outside of Didcot. Amelia had just taken the post of companion to Lady Wallingford's daughter Emma, the two of them were about to embark upon the Grand Tour of Europe. Lady Wallingford though, for reasons best known to herself, decided it would be a good idea for Amelia to work at her country house for a month before embarking on the trip. "It will give you a chance to see how a grand house works," she had told Amelia. "also first hand experience of the treatment of servants." In truth Amelia had not thought this necessary, but had given into her Ladyship's wishes, she had so much wanted this post. So here she was standing at the large oak front door to the house.
The door opened, and a chubby girl around about her own age stood there. "So you finally got here, we have better things to be doing at the moment than hanging around at a maids beck and call."
Amelia was taken aback by the rude greeting from this ignorant teen, she was just about to speak, when the girl continued.
"I take it you are, Amy?"
"Amelia actually." She replied curtly.
"Actually," the girl said, mimicking Amelia's accent, "I'm called Rosemarie, but I still get called Rosy. So grab your bags, Amy, and follow me. We are room sharing."
Dumbfounded, Amy picked up her two carpet bags, and tried to keep up with the rushing maid, as she led the way. First downstairs to the kitchen, then up the steep backstairs to the attic space and the staff quarters. Finally, Amy well out of breath reached their room.
"That's your bed over there," Rosy said pointing to the bed tucked under the eaves of the roof, "your uniforms are on top of it."
Amy was struggling to catch her breath, and also take everything in.
"You'd best get changed sharpish, Mr Harrison wants to see you as soon as possible, and he is a stickler for uniforms."
Amy waited for Rosy to leave, but she just stood there waiting.
"Come along, we haven't got all day."
Amy then realised that the girl had no intention of leaving her in privacy. Looking at the clothing on the bed, she soon saw it was indeed a full uniform, right down to the underwear.
Slowly Amy started to strip off her own clothing, all the while Rosy was standing in the doorway her left foot tapping in impatience. At last Amy was down to her shift, and light blue drawers. She picked up white blouse, and was about to out it on when Rosy interjected again.
"What you doing girl? All your uniform is there, and you is supposed to wear all the uniform, nothing else, just the uniform."
Now blushing at being called a girl by someone her own age, and having to strip naked in front of this ignorant trollop, she could feel her eyes edging with tears.
"By you have some figure don't you," Rosy said as Amy finally stood naked in the cold attic room, the chill making her pink nipples grow and harden, "old Harrison will have some fun with you, there's no doubt about that. He'll soon find some reason to have you over his knee, skirts up and drawers open so he can slap those pale arse cheeks red."
"What?" Amy shouted out in anger at the girls cheek.
"This house is run as a tight ship," Rosy said grinning at Amy, "Lady Wallingford is a big believer in old fashioned discipline, and for the most part it's Mr Harrison the butler who carries it out."
Of course Amy had heard of such things, maids being spanked and caned by their employees, even mill workers feeling the strap across their backsides for slacking and lateness.
Of course it could be that the house was run on this basis, but those rules would not apply to her. The likes of little strumpets like Rosy may need to be taken in hand to keep her in check, but she knew she was a special case. Which in fact was part true, Lady Wallingford had taken her butler to one side to have a word with him, the words would have made Amy's blood freeze. "Harrison we have a miss Amelia Cranforth coming to join us, she is a well bred, and well educated daughter of the clergy," her ladyship started telling him. The butler listened intently to his beautiful, but very formidable employer. Since being widowed five years ago at the age of thirty six, her ladyship had run her houses, and businesses with a rod of iron. "as such," she continued, "the girl seems to have ideas above her station. She will be going as a lady's companion to Emma, but I don't want this nineteen year old somehow thinking that she rules the roost. I want her to learn her station, and learn it well. You, Harrison, will be her teacher, use any means that you deem fit to get the message across to her that she is an employee, and nothing more. Can I trust you on this issue?"
The butler smiled and nodded, then spoke. "A pretty thing is she Ma'am?"
"Yes I suppose some would say so, light brown hair almost blond, blue eyes, fair skinned but prone to blushing. Not that her looks should really come into it."
Though they both knew that looks did come into it. Under Harrison, the houses ran like clockwork, and her ladyship allowed him maybe a little bit to much leeway in the disciplining and treatment of staff. It was however of a mutual benefit, she got away with paying him under the odds for someone of his experience, and he got to live out his sexual fantasies.
They both knew it, though it was a tacit agreement. So Amy's fate was sealed. Unaware, Amy continued putting on her uniform with help from Rosy. She didn't like her uniform, in truth she found it all a little beneath her, but if this is what she has to do to get a chance of a lifetime job than so be it. First she put on the cream drawers, then the very short white shift, which was little more than a vest, then the calf length black woollen stockings. Soon she was in her long black skirt that finished just above the ankles, then the white blouse.
"Blues are for Sundays." Rosy had informed her.
Rosy then helped Amy tie back her hair before placing the little black cap on her head. Finally came the four and a half inch thick leather belt.
"Surely this hampers you when you are working?" Asked Amy.
"Hee-hee, a little I suppose it does, but it has it's practical purposes," Rosy replied mysteriously, "right I think you are ready to see Mr Harrison."
Amy followed Rosy back downstairs through the rabbit warren of corridors to the butlers pantry. Mr Harrison was not what Amy had been expecting, around about her fathers age fiftyish or so. Very tall, and quite broad shouldered, hair thinning and going a little grey around the temples. It was his demeanour that surprised her the most, he was very friendly, and welcoming, though he did point out that he liked to run a tight but happy ship. Amy was briefed of her duties, and also made aware that they getting the house ready for a big party at the weekend to mark the end of the London season.
The next two days went well enough for Amy, Rosy and her formed an odd friendship, and started to get on really well. The work was hard, but no harder than she was already used to, having to keep the vicarage in good order. For the butler Mr. Harrison this was proving to be frustrating on two counts. The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the pretty nineteen year old. Also the fact that her ladyship had more or less ordered him to. Mr Harrison though was many things, but he always looked upon himself as fair, and could not bring himself to punish a girl for no reason. Then on the third day things finally started to look up for him, if not for Amy.
Amy was given the task of cleaning the dining room, whilst her new friend Rosy was to do the main hallway. As always Amy attacked the job with great gusto, she found that working this way made the day's go quickly, and tired her out for the boring night times so sleep would come easy to her. After two hours of dusting and polishing, she decided the room was finished, and ready for inspection. Then she noticed it, high above the fire mantle was a little vase on a small wooden shelf. As the sunlight streamed in from the large east facing bay window, she saw it, the long gossamer strand of a spiders web. She thought to get the small stepladders from Rosy, then decided that standing on the fireplace hearth, her long cane duster would just about reach it. Standing on the hearth, almost up on points she swished at the silken thread, then the door opened catching her by surprise, she stumbled and caught the vase with her duster. She held her breath as she saw it shake, then fall crashing onto the top of the marble fireplace sending shards of china across the floor.
"Good grief girl, what on earth is going on in here?" Mr Harrison's voice boomed out, as he stood halfway through the doorway.
"It... it was an accident, sir, I slipped... the door opening took me by surprise." Amy stammered.
Quickly realising that his chance had finally come, Mr Harrison spoke. "So now it is my fault that you have broken a valuable and treasured heirloom. Is that what you are trying to tell me girl?"
Amy now close to tears was lost for words, she merely shook her head, trying to avoid eye contact with the raging butler.
Now how to play this hand wondered the butler, in normal circumstances the breaking of a worthless vase, would only earn a maid a quick skirts up over the knee spanking to teach them not to be so clumsy. Amy though was not a normal maid, and another chance to carry out her ladyship's instructions might not come again.
"This kind of thing can not go unpunished," he said watching the girl's already pale face drain of all colour, "laziness will not be tolerated in this house."
"Laziness! I'm never lazy." Replied Amy, with a ring of indignity in her voice.
"So you want to add lying to your string of offences do you?" Said the butler raising his hand to silence any further interruption. "All you needed to do was go out into the hall and borrow the steps from Rosy, but you chose the easy path. Then you show yourself to be a clumsy buffoon, and have the nerve to try to blame me. This calls for serious punishment, very serious punishment."
Now realising what the butler was leading to Amy found her voice. "If you speak to her ladyship, Mr Harrison, you will find that I am not a common maid, and not under your discipline regime."
The butler managed to stifle his smile, and in those few moments decided exactly what he had in store for this haughty little maid. "I was told by her ladyship that you were to be treated no different to the other staff in my charge. If however you wish to go and see her ladyship for yourself you are more than welcome to. You can tell her that you don't want to be punished for your indolence, and your clumsiness. Also you can then tell her that you have broken an ornament of particular sentimental value to her." He looked at the defeated girl in front of him. "If, however, you wish to get this over with this afternoon, you will clean up the mess you have made, then go out into the grounds and fashion yourself a birch rod, and report to my pantry in an hours time."
Amy stood dumbstruck, a solitary tear running down her left cheek, what could she do? "Yes, Mr Harrison." She mumbled.
No sooner had the butler left the room than Rosy burst in. "I heard it all," she said to the now crying Amy. " a birching! I can't believe he is going to give you a birching!"
Still in a daze of what had befallen her Amy could only mange to say. "I... I don't know how to make a rod, do you?"
"Well sort of, I've never made one. Worst I've had has been the strap across me arse, but I've seen them made. He likes a long one, twigs and cuttings about a yard long, well just short of a yard, fourteen or fifteen twigs should do it. Make it like a bouquet, but tightly bound with twine at one end. A birching!"
Amy stood, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, too stunned to talk.
"Tell you what," said Rosy. "I'll finish off in here, so you can get on with it, lordy you don't want to be late."
Amy wandered around the grounds picking up sticks that she thought were suitable, only to aware that all the staff knew what, and why she was out there for. Sitting at a bench at the far end of the grand lawn she started to bind the twigs. Her mind wandered, she was not that naive to not know that the birch is always given on the bare skin. The thought of him lifting her skirts, and opening up her drawers made her feel sick. Well not sickness, more butterflies in her stomach and chest. How would he birch her? Her mind was now running away with her, would he call all the staff to the dining room to make an example of her, a public thrashing to serve as a warning to others. Her there bent across the dining table, her bare bottom there for all to see, maids, cooks, and stable boys. The butterflies flapped even more. She snapped back to reality, such things were only in the dirty books that some of the girls would sneak into school, and read by candle night late at night. It can't be that bad she thought to herself, she was no stranger when younger to her father's belt, and the mistresses cane at school. A few bound twigs would be no worse. The worst part would be having to expose her skin to him, but by all accounts he is no stranger to a girls anatomy. Standing, the rod now finished, she gave it a quick swish through the air. Unlike a cane there was no real sound, just a gentle hissing noise . No it can't be that bad she decided, heading back to the house, and the waiting Mr Harrison.
She entered the the door to the kitchen, red faced seeing the knowing grins on the two young scullery maids, as she walked past them birch in hand. She then headed down the long basement passageway to the butler's pantry. Some butler's pantries are little more than a large storage cupboard. Not Mr Harrison's though, his was a pantry fitting someone held in such high esteem by her ladyship, and her late husband before her. It was in fact four rooms, the actual pantry itself was a large room, half office, and half storeroom for some of the more expensive, and exotic herbs and spices, deemed not suitable for leaving in the kitchen. Also along the same corridor was Harrison's small cosy living room, and his bedroom, and privy. No draughty attic space, and shared bathroom for this butler. Reaching the pantry Amy tapped the door, though wishing to run in the other direction she forced herself to stay still, though could not still her trembling knees or butterflies.
"Ah Amy, early as it happens," said the beaming butler as if she was popping in for tea and cakes. "I'll just go and bolt this door, I'm sure you would prefer no one walking in on us?"
Amy could only manage a nod, as the butler walked down the passage and closed over the large oak door, effectively closing of all four rooms from intrusion. As he came back towards Amy he held out his hand, Amy shook herself back into reality as she handed him the rod. "Mmm." He said thoughtfully. "This your first rod girl."
"Y y yes... yes, sir" She struggled out.
"Well you seem to have made a fine job of it, we will find out soon enough." He said motioning the girl into the room. On entering the room he went to a large stone jar of brine, and placed the rod into the salty liquid. He always liked to use the brine jar, it had a threefold effect. It added weight to the rod, and the salt water acted as both a cleaning agent to any cuts, and also an irritant. "Well, whilst we are letting the rod soak, we may as well get you prepared." Still talking in his now annoying to Amy, jovial fashion.
Sitting on a small milking stool he motioned Amy over to his side. Amy gulped as his hands went to the hem of her skirt, even though she knew it was coming. She felt her face start to burn up as he lifted it higher, then started to tuck it into the top of her belt. "it has it's practical purposes." She remembered Rosy saying about the belt, so this is what she meant.
Soon enough her skirt was tucked all the way in, her drawers front back and sides all now on display. What happened next shocked Amy beyond words. His fingers went to the bow of her drawstring, he meant not to just open her drawers to denude her posterior, he meant to lower them completely.
"Mr Harrison... you can't... you just can't!" She cried out.
"I'm not going to run the risk of damaging her ladyships property, I'm afraid these will have to come off." And no sooner had he said it than the cream underwear was around her ankles.
Quickly her hands descended to shield her modesty.
"Hands on your head, girl, this is neither the time nor the place for coyness." he said, now a harshness to his voice as he slapped her hands and the front of her thighs.
What could she do but submit?
The view now in front of Harrison's face was very much to his liking. A lush covering of dark pubic hair, it always amazed Harrison how pubic hair is nearly always so much darker than head hair, a lack of sun he had long since decided. It was almost his favourite part of the proceedings, baring the subject, the revealing of mysteries. It always got his sap rising, and today was no different. "Right young lady we will have you across that table," he said pointing to the small roughly hewn wooden dining table. "right over, bare bottom up, and grab the far sides with your hands, tight grip mind you." Amy flinched at the reminder of her nakedness, she shuffled to the table and did his bid, grabbing the edge of the table as hard as she could. Harrison picked the rod from the stone jar, and gave it a little shake to rid it of the excess salty water. "A bakers dozen, young lady, that should rid you of your indolence."
Amy closed her eyes tight as he announced her fate, thirteen strokes! Without warning the first one fell, a gentle almost inaudible swish in the air before it made contact with her bare skin. The pain was incredible, how could something so ineffective looking be so harsh. To Amy it felt like a hundred bee stings, she felt the whole area of her bottom was on fire.
Then the second fell, as she was still adjusting to the feel of the first. The second stroke sent bits of twig flying all over the stone floor. "Ah, miss, it looks like you will have some sweeping to do when we finish here, too many old twigs by the looks of things." As always Harrison followed a distinct pattern with a birching. Not so much a pattern really, more a strategy. The first blow, medium strength, not brutal but hard enough so the girl knows what is coming her way. The second stroke, quickly after the first, and also the hardest he is going to give, hopefully as in this case to break some of the twigs. The following strokes all medium, or even light depending on the girls reactions, after all he was not a cruel man.
Few girls make it past the sixth stroke, only two have so far managed to take all thirteen before breaking down, and asking for some sort of mercy. Mercy at a price of course.
He could seem Amy was already in distress, not as hardy as some of the girls from the local farms perhaps? He would soon find out as the third stroke was always very telling. The stroke landed, and Amy could not believe the pain it generated, she screamed out in pain as the now shorter twigs found places hitherto untouched. The tips scraping into the cleft of her bottom, a couple even making contact with the folds of her virgin sex. Through watery eyes she could see her knuckles turning white, as she held on to the edge of the table.
Ten more to go, the thought was unbearable for her, but bear it she must. Harrison rotated the birch in his hands, to cut back the effect of the short twigs, only one such blow was ever really required for his purpose. The fourth blow fell.
"Please no more... please... no more." Amy called between sobs.
"Nearly at the halfway mark, girl, you are doing well." He replied knowing full well she was near her breaking point, it was all to him a well rehearsed act. At some point, he thought to himself, some girl is going to point out that thirteen has no halfway mark, but as of yet no one had. Could this be the final stroke he wondered, looking down at her red buttocks that were only a few minutes ago alabaster pale. The stroke fell.
"Please stop... I beg you anything... but not more of this?... Please?"
"Yes please stop, you are tearing me apart."
Not quite correct he thought to himself, but that must be how it would feel to her, as usual the strategy has worked. Throwing the now redundant birch to one side, he positioned himself behind the girl and nudged her legs a little wider apart. His fingers trailed down the cleft of her bottom, then under reaching at her fleshy purse.
"Mr Harrison! What are you doing?" cried out the indignant Amy, as she flew upright from the table, her rage temporarily screening out her pain.
He grabbed her quickly around the waist in case she tried to bolt for the door, nuzzling his mouth close to her ear, he whispered. "But, Amy, you said anything."
"I... I know, but I'm a good girl... I don't......." Her voice trailed of as the butterflies came back.
"A good girl?" He said, still whispering in an almost seductive tone. "Do good girls have to go into the garden to cut themselves a birch rod? Do good girls find themselves across my table, their underwear around their ankles?"
Amy felt like she was about to faint, her whole body seemed to be shaking from the inside out.
"Do good girls have to lie here, their bare bottoms waiting for the birch?" His left hand now on the bare flesh of her belly, his fingers gently, oh so gently stroking the mass of thick dark pubic hair. "But I know what you mean," he continued in the same seductive tone. "you are a maiden, and want to stay that way till your wedding night, am I right?"
Lost now for words Amy just nodded.
"Can you trust me, Amy, will you trust me, Amy?" His fingers now parting the the folds at the front of her quim, finding the little ridge of hard flesh. The same ridge of flesh that she would often awaken from her sleep to find her own fingers dallying on, her nightdress bunched up around her hips. When this happened she always felt self loathing for days after, but this was somehow different, this felt more right. "Will you trust me, Amy?" He repeated, and she nodded, the butterflies were now the size of bats. "Bend back across the table for me." He whispered.
"Wha... but.. but?" Moaned the confused girl.
"Don't worry, the birch has gone." He said to appease her.
In a daze she bent back over.
He went to one of the shelves and quickly found the jar he was looking for. Unscrewing the top off the jar he plunged his left hand deep into the olive oil. Returning to the waiting maiden, out of sight of her he lowered his britches and coated he rock hard member. His right hand went back down under her, and recommenced it's earlier ministrations. The left hand went to her buttocks and started to coat her cleft and the bud of he anus. Through the daze of mixed emotions and carnal needs, she knew what was about to happen. The girls at school had told her of such things. One day while reading Childe Harold's Pilgrimage a couple of the girls teased her about why Byron had to leave the country.
"He had been doing IT with his wife, but up her bottom!" At the time she didn't believe such a thing could happen. Now she knew different, and as Harrisons fingers worked at her she didn't care, as wave after wave of butterflies seemed to attack her. She even reached back to gingerly part her still painful cheeks, though now the pain seemed to be somehow lost in other sensations. Then his probing finger was replaced by something thicker, something more yielding yet still firm. So this was what a males member feels like she thought, as it slowly gained more ground inside her. It hurt, but in a different way, in an almost pleasant way. As his fingers continued working at her quim, she felt as if she was about to explode.
Then he started to move within her, pumping back and forth against her, his thighs banging into her bruised punished bottom. Each stroke by him forcing her sex hard against his ever busy fingers. Then all the butterflies seemed to rush in one huge wave, she closed her eyes tight, bringing her right hand around to her mouth to stifle her her cries. Cries this time not of pain, she bit down onto her index finger so as not to shout out aloud. Through the fog of her orgasmic rush she heard Harrison gasp out, then felt the hardness in her bottom start to dissipate, she knew he was spent, as she started to come down from her peak. He withdrew from her, and quickly did up his britches.
"Right, my girl," he said to the still girl across the table, "you have some sweeping to do before you go. I think though your skirt can stay up till you are finished, what say you?"
Silently Amy nodded.
Harrison sat back in his armchair watching the half naked Amy tidying up the pantry, and wondered to himself if this is what her ladyship had had in mind.