Catherine's Letters (9 page)

Adrienne was not sure how much would be enough or too much, but what she did know was she wanted to make love to Maria. She settled on two more strokes, making them hard, and revelling in her new talent. This is truly wonderful, she told herself, I’m caning a naked girl and it’s wonderful.

Putting the cane onto the pillows where Maria would see it, she reached between the girl’s shoulder blades and unclipped her bra. It fell forward, exposing the ripe breasts with their nipples already erect and swollen. Maria shivered at her final exposure. Adrienne pushed the straps over her shoulders and the bra landed around Maria’s wrists. Adrienne’s hand brushed up Maria’s trembling thigh. She made gentle contact with her slick lips, pushing a little higher when all Maria did was sigh. Whoever shaved this girl’s pussy had done an immaculate job. No trace of hair was left.

She continued to stroke, feeling Maria growing wetter by the second. At last Adrienne spoke. ‘So, how do you find this position?’ She tried to inject her voice with as much menace as she could muster, but it was not easy. She was new to this, after all.

‘Very – very painful, miss. Very humiliating,’ Maria sniffed. She was playing her part to a T.

Adrienne became bolder. ‘I’ll say you’re humiliated!’ she snapped. ‘You’re naked, your pussy’s wide open for me to see, and you’ve got red lines all over your arse. And you’re all mine. Stand up!’ Maria got to her feet, leaving the bra where it had fallen on the sofa bed. ‘Kneel.’ She obeyed again, sinking onto the thick, green carpet. Adrienne reached behind her own waist and opened the fastenings of her skirt. The heavy garment landed on the floor and she kicked it away with a deft back heel. ‘Now,’ she announced, ‘the final humiliation. You will prove your subservience to me by licking my cunt. Licking me to orgasm. Take my knickers down and get busy!’ She shocked herself with the coarseness of her own language, as if her mouth had a sudden life of its own and had chosen exactly the words the situation demanded.

Maria shuffled toward Adrienne until she was nestling between her thighs. Looking up at her, she grasped the white silk of her panties at each hip, and then slowly and very deliberately drew them down. Adrienne had dressed for the occasion when choosing her underwear that morning, and her expensive stockings were held up by a suspender belt of the same silk as her knickers. Maria seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the shameful task of undressing her and soon Adrienne was stepping out of her panties. She slipped her jacket off and let it fall to the floor behind her.

She looked down at the subservient girl at her feet. She could feel Maria’s breath making her pubes tingle, so close was her face to Adrienne’s now naked crotch. Maria seemed to be pausing for effect, or maybe she was just enjoying the view. Either way, Adrienne felt a bit more encouragement was required. ‘Lick, slut. Get on with it.’ Just saying the words sent a thrill right through her.

Maria’s lips parted and her tongue peeped out between them. A small but powerful pair of hands gripped the backs of Adrienne’s thighs, just above her knees. She held her breath, then let it go in a hoarse whoosh, as her labia were tickled by the wriggling hardness of Maria’s tongue tip.

The touch had been slight but instantly effective. Adrienne’s belly leapt. Maria flicked her tongue again, going a little deeper and a little harder this time, parting the sticky vaginal lips and holding the contact for a moment longer. Adrienne’s hands dropped onto Maria’s head and her fingers teased the wavy brown curls.

Maria became more insistent and Adrienne grew more and more wet. She felt her excitement rising and began to rotate her lips in little circles. Maria caught the rhythm and synchronised her licking to the movements.

They continued their strange dance for several minutes, Adrienne’s pleasure mounting as Maria’s tongue grew even more demanding, pushing deeper and deeper into her slick tunnel. Adrienne almost toppled over when Maria found the hard nub of her clitoris. Maria’s hands tightened their grip on Adrienne’s legs and she forced her mouth hard against the button of flesh. Adrienne yelled in ecstasy, her hands grinding Maria’s lips into her vulva. A thousand fireworks went off in her head, as every muscle in her crotch spasmed. She came with an animal howl, Maria leaping to her feet to catch her before she fell.

Maria guided her to the chair. Adrienne’s memories of the next few minutes were hazy, although she was aware of being gently pulled by the hands, to lie on the sofa bed. She remembered Maria’s fingers on her blouse buttons, then her bra clasp and finally around her suspender belt and stockings. Eventually she woke from her dream-like state and realised she was naked. Maria was snuggled next to her, also nude. An electric fire gave the bedsit a cosy glow, so there was no need to for the duvet cover.

They kissed and Maria hugged Adrienne. ‘You got into that quickly enough.’ The brunette giggled. ‘What do you want to try next?’

‘I like lying here with you. Can we do that for the moment?’

‘Course we can, there’s no rush.’ Adrienne reached out a hand and tentatively touched one of Maria’s small but perfect breasts. A contented sigh from its owner made her feel much bolder and she began to fondle it.

It was an hour before they felt the urge to do anything more energetic. Adrienne insisted she should return the oral sex Maria had performed so well on her, and also that she be the first to feel her new whip. Fifteen minutes later, Maria was sitting on a pile of pillows at the head of the bed, her slim, muscular thighs spread wide. Adrienne crouched between them, her tongue running up and down Maria’s hairless slit. Adrienne’s bottom was pushed high by her position. It glowed from the hand-spanking Maria had demanded she take, face down on the bed, to “warm your lovely arse up”. Adrienne had at first been surprised at the pain, but also at how quickly she grew used to the crisp cracks.

Now Maria was using the cat. She could just reach Adrienne’s bottom, and the leather tails of the whip were perfect for wrapping around her tightly bent curves. Every time the lash landed, Maria would urge her on to greater efforts with her mouth. ‘That’s it, slut… Yes, lick me harder… Oh yes, push your tongue right inside me!’

Adrienne revelled in the play-acting, taking real pleasure in debasing herself for this woman. But, as she forced her tongue into Maria’s vagina, she was surprised to hear Maria reach for the phone on the bedside table. Adrienne tilted her head to see what was going on but an extra-sharp swipe with the whip, and a curt order to “get on with it and mind your own business”, soon had her back at her task. Nevertheless, she listened and was stunned to hear Maria speak into the phone.

‘Hello? Yes, I’d like a large deep pan four seasons, with garlic bread and a jumbo bottle of cola. The address is …’

It had been an uneventful night for the pizza delivery boy. This was to be his last job before calling it a night. He found the right flat and rang the doorbell. He was totally unprepared for what he saw when the door opened.

The petite brunette appeared to be wearing nothing except her blouse, and that was only held together by two of its buttons. The girl’s make-up and hair were messy. As she handed over the cash and took the food from him she smiled sweetly. There was a movement behind her and he craned his neck to see over her shoulder.

Behind her was a bed, a bed which contained another girl. This one was blonde, and very beautiful. With just her head, bare arms, and shoulders showing above the duvet, she could well have been naked too. She gave him a knowing smile.

With a final “thank you” the brunette turned to take the pizza back to her friend. As she did so, she lifted her left leg and kicked the front door closed. As it swung shut, the pizza boy clearly saw two marks on the brunette’s right thigh. The marks were long, straight, and red, almost as if they had been drawn with a lipstick and ruler.

The bemused youth headed back to his moped. He did not have a clue what the marks were or how they had got there, but guessed it might have been a lot of fun to hang around and find out.

Chapter Seven

At work the following day no one said anything about how tired she looked, or that she was wearing the same, somewhat wrinkled, clothes as the day before. Even if they’d noticed, but been too polite to comment, Adrienne assumed everyone would think she had enjoyed a night of debauchery with a man, rather than a pretty 22- year-old girl with a penchant for having her bottom smacked. It was a wicked secret, and it was all hers.

Back home, she thought about reading another of Catherine’s letters, but was too tired. She made a plan to decipher the copperplate handwriting again the following night.

However, a meeting went on much longer than she’d expected, meaning she did not get home till ten on Friday, once again too exhausted to do anything but eat, then sleep. She lay in on Saturday, until Rachel called and demanded they go shopping. The night was also spent with her: a trip to the cinema, a Thai meal, then an hour sitting in the corner of a pub they often went to. Rachel was, as ever, on the lookout for talent, but made none of her usual flirtatious approaches, sensing that Adrienne would not go along with her. Adrienne used her break-up with James as an excuse, saying she was “off men” for the moment. If only Rachel knew how far she had gone off them, she thought.

So it was Sunday before she opened the writing case and carefully selected the fourth letter, a much longer one than the others she had so far read. Spreading the pages on the coffee table, she began to read.

My dearest Connie,

My education is continuing apace. My Greek and Latin have improved immeasurably in the past weeks, as have my English and French grammar. My knowledge of mathematics is now considerably wider, and Miss Prior has even been able to teach me a smattering of the science of natural history.

All this has come at a price, of course. The cane and martinet are frequent visitors to my bare bottom, at least three times a week now, although Miss Prior’s touch after my school room punishments does soothe me so!

I have not written for some time as there has been little to tell you about, and Miss Prior has been keeping me so hard at work, but last night I had the most remarkable experience and felt I must tell you about it immediately.

It concerns one of our maids, Molly. I do not believe she was with us when last you visited. She is about six months younger than I, not yet 19 years old, and still learning about being in domestic service. She is terribly eager to please but not very confident, so Father entrusted me with the task of educating her about her role in our household.

In spite of her low birth, Molly is a pretty, jolly girl, with curly red locks and a fresh complexion; quite clever in her own way, although very naive. She has learnt well but seems to have exceeding difficulty serving at table, which is, of course, one of the most important tasks she will have to perform in any household. For her own sake, therefore, I decided to take a leaf from Miss Prior’s book and employ her methods.

As Molly was stocking the linen cupboard yesterday morning I took the opportunity of speaking with her alone. I asked her to come to my room after she had finished her supper and before she went to bed that night. She was anxious as to what she had done wrong, but I gave her no hint of my mood or intentions.

As the day went on I finalised my plans, which involved asking another of the scullery maids to obtain for me a complete set of cutlery from the kitchen, without Molly’s knowledge. I had the silverware brought to my room, much to the scullery maid’s bewilderment.

It being a Saturday I had no lessons, Miss Prior taking the weekends for riding or walking as was her custom. Knowing that she would be galloping across the Downs and would not be back for some hours, I let myself into the schoolroom. Miss Prior did not lock her desk – what need is there for that? – and inside I found her martinet. The cane hung ominously on its hook in the side of the desk. Confident I would be able to return both items before breakfast this morning, I took them back to my room where I secreted them underneath the coverlet.

I spent the rest of the afternoon planning my approach to Molly’s education. As she helped serve dinner she cast me several nervous glances, seeming even more clumsy and careless than usual, and earning her a sharp reproach from Father.

At the appointed time, Molly arrived. She wore her shift and a simple dressing gown, and her freckled face was pale with apprehension. I was wearing my nightdress beneath my most expensive silk dressing gown. I felt it important to establish through my choice of clothing the authority my social status naturally allows me.

I told Molly to sit on a plain wooden chair while I stood before her. Miss Prior’s elevated position when she is at her desk always makes her appear far more intimidating to me. I was hoping for just such an effect with Molly, and judging by the way the poor girl trembled, I believe I achieved it. Would it not have the very same effect upon you, Connie?

‘I have noticed, Molly, that you make far too many mistakes when serving at table. You have been with us several months, and yet you still do not know one piece of cutlery from another.’ Her eyes widened as I delivered my lecture. She knew well what her failings were and clearly feared for her position.

‘Oh ma’am, I’m sorry!’ she cried. ‘I do try and learn, and I will try harder! Please don’t send me away!’

‘Send you away? Why, Molly, I intend to do nothing of the sort.’ I told her. Knowing my father as you do, Connie, you will realise he would take not one jot of notice of any recommendation I should give him about dismissing any of the staff, yet the hapless Molly was not to know this. ‘You will not get off that lightly, my girl. I intend to teach you.’

‘Teach me?’ she repeated.

‘Indeed. And it shall be a lesson you will not forget in a hurry.’ Molly looked at me blankly. I decided to make it clear for her. ‘When I make mistakes in my classes with Miss Prior, what do you think happens?’

‘I – I am sure I do not know, miss.’ The girl’s bottom lip was beginning to tremble, and her eyes were moist with tears. I believe by now the entire household is aware of Miss Prior’s methods, so I saw no harm in spelling them out to Molly.

‘I am whipped, Molly. I am whipped with a cane upon my bare bottom.’ She stared at me, her mouth wide open. Perhaps word of my punishment had not yet filtered that far below stairs, and for a moment I regretted telling her, but the cat was well and truly out of the bag and I had no choice but to continue. ‘Miss Prior makes me bend over and raise my skirts, and then she lowers my drawers and canes my bottom, and you can be sure I learn my lessons well with such a threat hanging over me. I believe you need a similar incentive to improve your ways, and I intend to provide it.’

‘Miss? I … I don’t think I understand?’ Molly was possibly trying to appear ignorant, maybe hoping I would consider her too stupid to punish, but she was wrong.

‘I will test you, Molly,’ I told her, as simply as I could manage, ‘using the set of cutlery on the chest of drawers.’ I indicated where the knives, forks, and spoons had been laid and Molly looked at them apprehensively. ‘For every mistake you make, I shall punish you, with this –’ and I produced the martinet from beneath my coverlet ‘– and this,’ I said, taking out the cane with my other hand.

Molly stared at the implements I held with something approaching dread. The likes of the martinet she might never have seen before in her life, but its purpose she clearly divined. The cane, I believe, is widely used to keep order in the less disciplined schools and homes of the lower classes; Molly knew precisely for what it would be used tonight.

‘Oh lord, ma’am, no!’ she whimpered. ‘Please don’t whip me. I’ll be a good girl and get it right in the future.’

‘The amount of your punishment will be determined by the knowledge you demonstrate for me now,’ I told her sternly. ‘But you have made many mistakes in the past. Did my father not have to scold you this very evening? You must be punished for that immediately!’

‘Oh no, ma’am, not the cane,’ she wailed, springing from her seat.

‘No, not the cane,’ I told her, leaping forward and seizing her wrist, ‘but something far more infantile and humiliating. You shall be spanked over my knee.’ She wriggled and tried to evade my grasp, but I was stronger than she, and soon dragged her to the chair. Seating myself upon it, I pulled the struggling girl over my lap, her breath being knocked from her as she landed. Once she was there I twisted her left arm behind her back, believing this to be the most effective way of ensuring she did not slip my grasp. It took no small effort on my part, but she was soon restrained enough for me to begin the task for which I had summoned her.

I raised my right hand, then brought it down on her defenceless bottom. She squealed, more in shock than genuine pain, I believe, since the blow was not that hard, and was given through the thick layers of her clothing. Nevertheless, I felt the curve of her body through them and the experience created in me a tremendous desire for more.

I hit her again, this time with more effect, but still her clothing protected her from any real harm. I steeled myself to do what I had always intended to do, to bare her bottom. I had chosen Molly since I believed, of all the serving girls, she was the most likely to acquiesce. Now that the moment had come my heart was in my mouth, pounding fit to burst, while my hands were shaking, but I had come so far I could not think of stopping now.

‘This punishment is pointless,’ I told her, trying to steady the shakiness in my tone, ‘unless it really hurts, and I do not believe it will hurt unless it is upon your naked flesh.’ Despite my nerves I said these last two words with relish, knowing Molly to be a shy girl for whom embarrassment and scandal would be as much a punishment as the spanking itself. ‘Therefore, I believe it is time to do away with these …’ With a sweep of my hand I lifted her gown and nightdress away, exposing first a pair of stout but shapely legs, and then a chubby, round bottom. The reddish hue of her complexion evidently extended the full length of her body, as her hindquarters exhibited the same ruddy shade as her face. It was, however, only the skin of her bottom which interested me, and I took a palmful and wobbled her left cheek. Her choking sobs were evidence of her abject shame at this treatment, although she well knew worse was to come.

Lifting my hand again, I smacked the very same cheek, which shook all the more violently. She yelped, but made no effort at resistance. Sensing that I had won the battle, I smacked her other cheek, noticing the imprint of my hand which had by now appeared fully on its twin. Oh Connie, I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it felt, my hands smacking down onto her warm, soft flesh, sinking into the two fleshy pillows, and then being bounced back by their natural spring. The cracks of my spanking and her cries and tearful pleas for mercy were all that filled the room, and I was very pleased that Father slept at the opposite end of the house.

I continued spanking Molly, much to my immense pleasure and her distress. As I told you, her skin already had a red gleam to it, and my efforts were gradually turning it redder. I wondered if Miss Prior paid similar attention to the shade that my fair-skinned bottom turned as she punished me. I questioned why she never saw fit to turn me over her lap for a juvenile spanking, and imagined what such a treatment as I was now handing out to Molly would feel like.

All the time my head was filled with such happy thoughts, I was of course only too aware of the distress I was causing poor Molly. I am not a cruel person by nature, as I am sure you will agree, Connie, but the memory of all the canings and whippings I have recently had to endure spurred me on to show the silly girl no mercy. I believe I must have spanked her bare bottom for a full ten minutes, or maybe even a quarter of an hour, before finally my arm tired and my own hand began to sting too much for me to continue.

I allowed the weeping maid a few more minutes to compose herself, all the time running a soothing hand over her rosy cheeks, a gesture she seemed to appreciate in her woeful state. I then lowered her dressing gown and shift and ordered her to stand, which she did, albeit on shaking legs.

‘Now, Molly,’ I told her, rising myself so that my authority would not be undermined, ‘I believe it is time to find out how much you have learnt since you have been with us, and whether or not it is satisfactory.’ I looked at the trembling wretch, and was suddenly overcome by a wicked desire. Oh Connie, please do not call me evil, for I had no intention of doing this until that very moment, but all of a sudden I simply had to see her naked!

I looked resolutely at her and cleared my throat, before giving the order I knew would make or break her. ‘Take off your gown and shift, please, Molly.’

She stared at me, as if she had not understood such a simple order. ‘Ma’am? Take off my … But why, ma’am?’

‘Because this is a punishment, and a punishment must not be only painful, but also humiliating. Now, take off your clothes before I spank you again for arguing!’ What had started as a wicked whim had now become a desire, and I was adamant this common girl would not deny me.

‘Oh please, ma’am, don’t make me undress!’ she wailed, in such a way as would have broken sterner hearts than mine. But my blood was up, and nothing Molly could say, no entreaty or pleading, could make me change my course. Something about my demeanour must have conveyed this to her, for, without any further protest, but simply a sob of humiliation, she unknotted the cord of her dressing gown and let it fall open. Nervously she pulled it from her shoulders, and then took it off completely. I put out my hand to take it from her, knowing that not simply being told to undress, but also having her clothes taken away from her, would also add some spice to her misery.

Beneath her gown she was wearing a simple white night shift, such as is provided to all the girls when they arrive in our household. She looked at me once more, her green eyes full of tears and pleading, but my expression must have told her it was quite useless. Pulling the shift up to her waist, she gathered its hem in her hands and lifted it above her head, and then over it, before finally dragging it down her arms and over her hands.