Bag Lady

Part 1

Bag Lady Chapters 1 - 11

by obohobo



Chapter 1. Picked up

"Get yourself out of my doorway you dirty old bag." The shop had long ago closed
but the owner stayed inside finishing his paperwork. Now he wanted to leave and
wait in the shelter of the recessed doorway until his wife drove by to pick him
up. There was no way he was going to share the shelter with that smelly bundle
of rags that had no business to be on his property. What did it matter to him
that she had nowhere to go? What did it matter to him that it was cold and the
rain was blasting its way horizontally along the street? It was obviously her
own fault she had no money. Had no home. Probably drank all her support money.
She just needed to make the effort to get herself a job. "Hurry up, hag. Move
yourself or I'll have to call the police to move you." His tone was menacing and
loud. Muttering, grumbling and swearing more to herself than anyone, the woman
picked up the two plastic bags containing all her possessions, pulled her ragged
overcoat tighter around her body and shuffled out into the street. She was
already cold and wet through. While waiting for his wife the owner decided
perhaps now was time for him to have a security grill across the recess, like
every other shop in the street. It would save the increasing problem of these
down and outs sleeping in his doorway, pissing and leaving rubbish for him to
clean up when he arrived for work each morning.

The woman plodded across the street to the bus shelter opposite knowing it would
only be a temporary respite from the weather and wouldn't provide a good place
spend the night. The open sides gave little protection from the driving rain and
in any case when more passengers for the late night bus arrived she would be
pushed out. At the moment only one person stood waiting for the rural bus.
"Perhaps he won't mind too much and by the time the next bus comes maybe the
rain will have eased and I can make the half mile to the walkway between the two
supermarkets," she thought. The walkway was undercover for much of its length.
However she knew that there too, resting would only be temporary. Security would
come along every few hours and move her.

"Do you want somewhere to sleep for the night?"

Startled, the woman looked up at the distinguished looking man waiting for the
bus. "What could he want with her?" she wondered. "Surely he wasn't looking for
cheap sex? He looked well enough off for something better than she. Best ignore
him."

"Do you want somewhere to sleep for the night?" the man repeated in a slightly
louder and more commanding voice.

"I'm not a cheap whore," muttered the woman.

"I wasn't asking to fuck you woman," annoyance showing in the man's voice, "I
was asking if you wanted a bed to sleep in tonight. I wasn't referring to my bed
but I do have a spare room, several in fact. You will have to have a bath first
but you will have a room and a bed to yourself."

"If it's a hostel, I've no money. None at all." Her voice broke and she started
sobbing quietly.

"I can see that lady." Checking the time by his watch he went on, "If the bus is
on time, it will be here in five minutes. If you want a bed for the night, get
on it. I will pay your fare." Although the woman didn't really believe there
would be no strings attached to the offer, nevertheless she decided they
couldn't be worse than spending the night getting colder and colder and being
moved from one wet place to another. If her life continued like this for much
longer she'd be in hospital or dead. In any case life with the man couldn't be
any worse than it had been at home. She was already shivering and her shoes
squelched with water as she walked. When the bus came she boarded it. At first
the driver told her he didn't want her sort on his bus but relented when the man
paid her fare. Knowing there would be few other passengers on an atrocious night
like this, he thought there wouldn't be any complaints about her smell.

"Will you let me know when we are at Pennydelset please?" The man sat near the
driver, "I'm fairly new here and don't usually use the bus. Car's in for
service."

"Whereabouts in Penny?"

"Workhouse Lane. I've inherited the old workhouse."

"Whatcha starting it up again?" The driver nodded towards the passenger in the
back.

"No, too many rules and regulations these days. It's still got many of the beds
in though. Most likely I'll have to get it converted into flats or something."

Forty-five minutes later after a tortuous journey around the local villages that
took twenty minutes by car, they alighted from the bus at a tiny village with
only one small street light. It was very dark. The rain still sheeted down in
torrents. The bag lady looked around but could see nothing except the one light
some way along the road. Producing a small torch, the man led the way along a
gravel drive. "It's only about a hundred and fifty yards to the house," he
shouted to make himself heard over the wind and rain. Bag lady now her shivering
had ceased from the warmth in the bus, looked fearfully around and wondered if
she had done the right thing. In this isolated, dark place, he could do anything
to her and no one would know. But what did it matter? Her life now was hell. It
had been bad for some years even since childhood but the last couple of weeks
were hell, sheer hell.

A powerful security light came on as they rounded a bend in the drive. It
dazzled the woman who wasn't expecting it. "We're here now," the man said as he
fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He ushered her inside, and along a varnished
wood block hallway into the kitchen.

"Hang your coat over the back of that chair and get the rest of your wet things
off and into the washing machine."

Sounds like a military man, bag lady thought to herself as she fumbled with the
buttons of her coat and watched the man drape his mackintosh and beret over
another chair and carried it nearer the Aga cooker. Finally she undid the last
button and sloughed the coat to the flagstone floor. The man picked it up, shook
some of the rain from its surface and hung it over another chair and moved it
alongside his. Bag lady hung her old felt hat on a nearby peg, shook her wet
tangled hair and straightened her body. Her eyes took in the massive size of the
kitchen, bigger than the ground floor of her old home. Large scrubbed pine table
in the centre, cabinets with utensils all neatly stashed. Windsor bow backed
chairs. Large, solid fuel cooker. All reminiscent of a past era. At least it was
warm. She could feel the cozy warmth on her face, it made her feel drowsy.

"Get all those wet things off and into the washer." Again the order was barked
out as if giving instructions to a subordinate. It jerked her back to reality.
Bag lady took the top layers of clothing off but hesitated when she was down to
her shirt and skirt. "Everything. No need to be shy here. I'm not going to rape
you. I won't harm you." Slowly she removed the remainder of her things watched
closely by the man until only her bra and knickers were left. Her benefactor, if
indeed he was, showed some surprise as the woman emerged from an excess of
garments. She was much younger than he had thought. He now guessed thirty-five
to forty years old. Obviously undernourished because her ribs stood out but she
was well built and had breasts that had barely started to sag. However, it
wasn't these that caught his attention. Her whole body was covered with welts.
Most were now fading but some on her backside still showed clearly even though
as he rightly guessed, they were a fortnight old.

"Those too. Into the machine." He indicated the bra and knickers, "You don't
have anything different to every other woman." For the time being he ignored the
stripes on her body. Bag lady tried to cover her breasts and pubic area with her
hands. "Time we were introduced," the man went on, "Colonel Jeremy
Saunders-Smythe. Most people just call me Colonel or Sir." He held out his hand.

Bag lady shook it carefully with her cold wet hand and said, "Margaret Smith."
For the first time for a while Margaret smiled at the incongruity of the
situation. Such a formal introduction when she was naked and he fully dressed.
"Doesn't anyone call you Jeremy or Jerry?" she asked.

"Family call me Jeremy. No one since school days has dared to shorten it. Is
your shortened to Maggie?"

"Not until yours is shortened too." Some of her old spirit was returning.

"Touché. Bath now. Follow me."

Again the bathroom was impressive in its size. Black and white chequered tiled
floor and walls. Large cast iron bath. Toilet with a mahogany seat, polished
brass hinges and the inside of the bowl decorated with a blue flower pattern.
Soft lambs wool mat alongside the bath. "Use the loo if you need to while I fill
the tub. Sorry I don't have anything other than Johnson's Baby Bath to put in
the water. It's what I use. Haven't had any lady guests yet."

"Please," Margaret said, "Please leave me to do it on my own."

"Just get on with it woman. You've probably been squatting in public places for
some time. Sit and have your piss. The water will be ready shortly." Indeed the
water was already gushing, gurgling  and spitting out of the ancient brass taps.
Margaret sat and with the sound of running water in her ears, couldn't help but
relieve her bladder. She blushed with embarrassment but the Colonel ignored both
it and the smell that emanated from her unwashed body. She should have been used
to being in a bathroom and performing with men in the same room but it seemed
different with this stranger. This Colonel Jeremy Saunders-Smythe.

"Okay Margaret, into the bath with you." The nude woman flinched as his hands
wrapped around her back touched her flesh to steady and lower her into the warm
water. For the first time in two weeks she had the luxury of a bath and she
tried to thank the man but only a few mumbles came from her mouth. When her
bottom touched the bottom of the bath she winced but the Colonel still ignored
it. Questioning could wait until later.

"What are you going to do with me?" Margaret questioned.

"Tonight, nothing. In the morning we'll discus your options which will include
going back to living on the streets. For now though, I'm going to make us some
tea and will bring it here as soon as it is ready. Leave the door ajar. Later
we'll eat. It sure looks as if you could do with something inside your belly,
Margaret. You take sugar?" With these words the man left, returning some ten
minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea. Hers he placed on the end of the
bath, then he lowered the toilet seat lid and sat down.

"Feeling a little more civilised now?" Without waiting for an answer he went on,
"Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know. Not really much to tell."

"Just a sort of short CV of your life."

"I'm thirty-eight years old. Worked as a secretary for the electricity company
for ten years. I lived with my parents all the time. Gave up the secretary's job
when my mother fell ill. When she died, I had to look after father in the way he
expected. Took a variety of temporary and part time jobs and was made redundant
from the last about two months ago. All my money went into the family account. A
fortnight ago I came home from a day of job hunting to find what little stuff I
had in bin bags along the side of the house. The door was locked. Another woman,
Jill, his girlfriend had moved in two months ago and I guess he felt he needed
me less. I'd had to submit to punishments from both of them. I banged and banged
on the door. Father let me in and when I protested he caned me while the woman
held me and threw me out. I found a B&B but only had enough money in my purse to
stay for two nights. I kept trying for a job but it is surprisingly difficult
when you don't have a proper address and haven't worked for a while. I had no
choice but to learn to sleep rough. It's not the best time of year to do that."

"No friends you could have stayed with?"

"My life was foolishly centred around my father. He never allowed me friends."
For a while they sat in silence. Margaret trying to keep her breasts covered
with foam, Jeremy watching her. Each time she reached for the mug, her breasts
rose above the water and under his stare she could feel her nipples
involuntarily harden. Looking at him sitting fully dressed on the toilet seat
while she was a naked as the day she was born, Margaret wondered again why he
had brought her here. Would he want to fuck her? Not that it would be any
hardship if he did. From her position in the bath it was difficult to see but
she thought his trousers bulged more than normal at the front. Would he want to
do other things? Like her father? Or worse? Margaret's mind confused by the
sudden change in her life and the luxury of the warm water after so many nights
in the freezing cold, couldn't decide if she liked the man or not or even if it
mattered.

"What about the other welts on your body? Some are quite old" The question again
startled her.

"Father said I needed disciplining whenever I did something he didn't agree with
and when I ....." Margaret left the sentence unfinished. It was none of his
business really. She closed her eyes and relaxed in the warm water. Her mind ran
through all sorts of scenarios. Jeremy waited for her to continue. Opening her
eyes again, instead of continuing she asked, "Sir? Colonel?" Margaret hesitated
and then thought why the hell. Two can play at these games. "What is your
personal CV Sir?" To her surprise he answered.

"Good question. If you decide to stay, you will need to know." Margaret wondered
what motive would lie behind the invitation to stay but kept quiet. Jeremy went
on, "Spent thirty years in the army. Mostly in the Black Watch. Enlisted at
sixteen. Saw service in India then a quietish few years and into the Gulf war
and Kosavo. Saw plenty of people far worse off then you. I was last stationed at
the America airforce base at Lakenheath as a liaison officer. Remembered I had
an aunt that lived in this house and came to see her regularly. She was a
sprightly old lady and lived alone in this big old place. She only used three or
four rooms, the kitchen, bathroom and her bedroom. Another room she seemed to
keep as a workroom for her sewing and stuff but towards the end she didn't do
much of that. The others were never touched in the six years or so I came here
to visit. I retired about six months ago and rented a couple of rooms in town
here so I could keep an eye on her and did a few repairs and alterations to the
rooms she used to make them more comfortable and easier to use. Developers kept
trying to get hold of the place but she was adamant she wasn't going to sell,
despite the place was far too large and dilapidated. A month ago she died at the
age of ninety-four leaving the house to me. She also left me an annuity to
restore the place and possibly again turn it into a refuge for poor and
destitute women. I wouldn't mind doing that but as I told the bus driver, the
regulations are far too onerous so most probably I'll convert it into flats.
However, with the sex discrimination act I doubt whether I can make them
available just to women. I've only lived here full time for a week and part time
for the week previously so I haven't done more than clean up the rooms she used
and started to clear one other bedroom." The Colonel paused in his tale, stood
and abruptly returned to his officer bearing. "Time for you to get out of the
water and dry yourself, young lady." Opening a cupboard door her pulled out a
dressing gown. "When you're dry put this on. It's one of mine but you are not
too much smaller than I am so it should fit well enough. Auntie's stuff will be
much too small. She was a tiny woman."

"Do you have to watch me all the time?" Margaret complained. "Is this why you
want to start a women's refuge? To get your rocks off looking at the women in
here? Then forcing them to go further? That doesn't sound much like a refuge. Is
that what you are going to do to me? Are you just another pervert! I guess
that's why you picked me up."

"I am an officer and a gentleman madam! You will not impugn my name in that way
without paying the price." Without further warning, the Colonel sat again on the
toilet seat, pulled Margaret across his lap and commenced spanking her naked
arse with all the force his hand could muster. Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack,
Whack, Whack! The blows rained steadily on her bum. Screaming and swearing,
Margaret struggled to free herself but to no avail. He was far too strong for
her. Soon she changed from swearing to pleading with him to stop but it wasn't
until her arse was very sore and deep red in colour that he did so. "Apologise!"

"I'm sorry Sir. I shouldn't have said that."

"Remember, that spanking if you decide to stay here. I will not tolerate
insubordination. Or rebellious words and actions by those under me. It looks as
if you should be able understand that from what I can see of your body."

"Sorry Sir," Margaret repeated, thinking she had better humour him and blushing
because she knew he'd noted the welts on her arse and elsewhere.

"I'm a fair man, but a strict one. Of course I liked watching you. It is some
time since I have had the pleasure of a woman but I gave you my word I wouldn't
fuck you tonight and if you decide to leave in the morning, that will be the end
of it. That is the word of an officer and a gentleman. It will not be broken.
Stop snivelling, put the dressing gown on and come to the kitchen and help
prepare something to eat."



Chapter 2. The job

Jeremy lay in his bed gently massaging his hard on and wondered about the woman
in the next room. She was quite a find. "Yes, quite a find. Not that I expected
a woman like that when I invited her here. I expected a really old hag. It was
really only my better nature that asked her to stay. Had to do something to
spite that fat shopkeeper. I couldn't see her spend the night in the open in
that filthy weather either. If she'll stay she may be better than getting
someone from the Job Centre. No youngster but not bad looking and definitely
experienced in taking punishment." He rubbed his cock harder. "I wonder what her
typing skills are like? Perhaps her fingers will be better employed around my
cock but if she can type then maybe I can get this damned journal translated."

The journal he referred to was an old leather bound book and started in 1831 by
one Josiah Winsberly. "Damn that man," Jeremy mused, "Why did he have to write
it in code? Did he think he was Samuel Pepys? Bad enough the writing is faded."
However, he already knew the answer to that question, if the contents had been
read while he was still alive he would almost certainly have been imprisoned or
even hanged. So far he had only cracked the code and started on the first few
pages but it was laborious to do it by hand. It was only a simple transposition
of characters where A had become N and B transferred to O etc. It had taken him
longer to crack than it should have because Josiah had added the numbers 0 to 9,
the ampersand and the word 'the' written as /, as characters at the end of the
alphabet. It was made a little more difficult as it was not always easy to
distinguish between the numeral 0 and a capital letter O. Jeremy wondered at the
education of the man and why he didn't rise to a position higher than warden at
a workhouse. "I guess there were other compensations," Jeremy mused, "Maybe I'll
find out when I get the this book translated. Jack Shearer said he could write
me a computer programme for it once he had the code."

Margaret lay awake for only a short time. Not having slept properly for a week
or more and being in a warm soft bed with a full belly, exhaustion overcame her
and she slept through to near daybreak. Pulling the loaned robe around her she
quietly went to the bathroom and peed. For while she sat on the loo thinking of
the man and what he might do to or with her. He seemed straight enough but he
had spanked her and she could still feel the effects as she sat on the seat.
Returning to the bedroom she debated whether or not to get up and get away from
this somewhat gloomy house but the wind driven rain on the window quickly
quashed that idea. The bedroom might be a little chilly but under the covers on,
lying on a mattress she was snug and warm. "He said he would give me the choice
of staying or leaving in the morning. I'll wait until then and hear what he
says," she told herself.

*****

"My proposition is this, Margaret." They had finished breakfast. Margaret now
dressed in her own clean clothes, sat in the old wooden Windsor chair by the
stove. There was no cushion so she moved around a little to make herself as
comfortable as she could with a tender behind. "I've had much worse," she told
herself as she waited for Colonel Jeremy to begin. Rain still beat against the
glass of the windows. Since her spanking the Colonel had kept his word and
behaved as a perfect gentleman. True to his word, she'd had a room to herself
for the night. It may not have been luxurious. Just an iron frame bed, but the
mattress was clean and he had provided fresh sheets and blankets. Margaret for
her part, tried to put her fear of him aside and behave as if the situation was
a normal one.

"I need someone to help clean this place up. Two local women have already been
to look at the job and turned it down as being far too big for the wages I sort
to pay. A cleaning firm quoted an astronomical price to make a start on the
downstairs rooms. If you are prepared to help with the work, I will provide
board and lodging and we can negotiate wages at around minimum rate."

"Sir, it is not the work I am afraid of and it would be nice to have a roof over
my head at nights but after last night, I am fearful you might punish me more
and more. I have had enough of that sort of life. Living here alone with you, I
fear also that you will want to do more than look at me."

"You are of course right in that respect. Last night I gave you my word I
wouldn't attempt to fuck you and you would be free to go in the morning. You can
go immediately if you wish. However, if you stay, yes, I will expect to have sex
you. You are an attractive woman and living alone with you, I know I would find
the temptation to bed you, rather overwhelming. So you must take that into
consideration when you make your decision." Margaret nodded. "From the stripes
on your body, I doubt if my punishment last night was very significant."
Margaret again nodded affirmatively. "Do you know what it is like to sleep with
a man? Or have you kept yourself all these years for Mr. Right?" Margaret hung
her head, blushing furiously. This puzzled the Colonel but he went on, "Yes I do
get very horny and would make demands on your body but it would never be rape.
If you stoutly refuse me, then you will have your way but I guess your stay here
will be short. To be blunt and brutally honest, I will expect you to agree to
share my bed for at least a semi permanent job. As to any punishments, they
would be commensurate with the crime. Attacks on my character will, like last
night, always demand retribution. Other faults such as laziness, would be dealt
with on the severity of the offense. I may also wish to spank you to warm you up
ready for sex. That was something I learned in the India where I was provided
with a young woman for my enjoyment but it was only after her arse was well
warmed, that she responded with great alacrity in bed. Since then I have found
many other women respond in that way. Most punishments would be a hand spanking
but I do have a variety of straps and canes for the more serious offenses."

"So you actually want a whore housekeeper? Bet you didn't put that in your
advert for a house cleaner."

The Colonel looked at her sharply and then noticed the smile on her face. "No, I
didn't use those exact words." He too smiled and then turned more serious. "You
said last night, you had worked as a secretary. Does that mean you can type?"

"Yes Sir, but I'm a bit rusty now and I haven't had anything much to do with
computers except on a couple of my temporary jobs. I had an electric typewriter
at home but lately didn't get to use it much."

"You may have to brush up on those skills as well if you stay. I need someone
who ideally is, in the parlance of today, multi-skilled. Someone who is prepared
to muck in with whatever needs doing. In this old place it could be anything
from changing a light bulb to cooking to cleaning to  .."

"Lying on a bed with legs wide open?" interrupted Margaret.

"That would be a bonus," smiled Jeremy. "No need for a rush decision though. My
car is due to be returned at noon. You have until then to make up your mind.
Wander around the house and grounds if the weather allows. See what you might be
expected to do. See the extent of the cleaning. If we do it all, it will be a
mammoth task but I guess the further rooms will be left until I decide if and
how the place with be converted. For now I want to get the living spaces clean
and modernised without looking modern and a few spare rooms for guests if any
come here. Feel free to look anywhere except in my study where I will be
working. I'll make coffee at ten-thirty and you can ask questions then. If you
decide to leave, you can either walk out of the door or I will drive you to
town. At least you will have a full belly and clean clothes. If you decide to
stay, I will still take you to town for a check up at the clinic, and to get
whatever else you would need to stay here. I'll leave you alone for the time
being to think about what I have said."

Had Colonel Saunders-Smythe been a religious man he would have prayed she would
decide to stay but he'd given his word that she was free to go and would hold
himself to it however much his fantasy mind wanted her captive, chained and
ready for him to whip and rape. Margaret might no longer be young but she still
had some fire in her and with the right persuasion she might be able to satisfy
his desire not just for sex, but his love of tenderising a woman and warming her
body with a cane or strap before taking her unmercifully.

*****

Margaret sat in the passenger seat of the Mitsubishi 4x4 and peered through the
windscreen at the puddles that still littered the road and glinted in the
headlights. The rain had ceased for the time being but it could start again at
any moment. She wondered if she had made the right decision by accepting the
position of 'whore housekeeper'. It was not the decision she wanted to make but
the other option was far worse. How long would she live outside in this weather?
She was no stranger to sex, even forced sex but how much force would be use?
He'd said be wouldn't rape her, she could refuse him but her time in the warm
and dry would be limited. With winter fast approaching she would have to
acquiesce. Would the man who seemed to have experienced sex in various countries
make her do things that might be abhorrent to her? Would he thrash her often?
They had agreed on a fortnight's trial, with each having the option to terminate
the agreement at that time. In her mind she looked at it as a fourteen day
prison sentence but would that be any worse than the life she had led till now?
Perhaps if she stayed a month at the end she would have a reference and enough
money to pay her lodging.

At the clinic her tests revealed a clean bill of health, as she knew it would
and they gave her a prescription for contraceptive pills. She had been taking
them all the time she was with her father and she didn't want to start a family
now, certainly not with this strange military man. They had done the rounds of
the charity shops and bought a few clothes that fitted her and on to a work
outfitters where they obtained overalls and other necessary clothing for
cleaning in a dirty environment. Now they were nearly back 'home'. The workhouse
that was to be her home for at least a fortnight. A huge monstrosity of a house,
three storeys high but solidly built of red brick with a slate roof. So far she
hadn't seen but a fraction of it and only glimpsed its real size when she left
in the car. Now again they were arriving back to the gloomy tomb in the dark.

They cooked a meal, washed up and then sat in front of a coal and wood fire
supping a glass of wine. To Margaret this all seemed too good to be true. He'd
not made any advances to her and treated her like a lady when they were in town.
She chose the clothes she wanted for outside the house, but he had made it clear
at the outset, the cost would come out of her wage packet although not in one
lump sum. It was because of this she'd spent so much time in the charity shops.
He bought and paid for her work clothes and she guessed she would be wearing
them most of the time. They had visited a small computer shop and there was the
rather odd conversation about ciphers and him ordering an old computer with the
codes set up. What was that all about? Questions kept coming to her mind. Would
he allow her out on her own? Would she get time off? How much say would she get
in the running of things? How often would she have to submit to him. Would she
be punished? How badly? How severe would the warming before sex be?..... As they
sat comfortably in front of the fire she decided now perhaps was the time to
ask.

"Colonel? Jeremy? What is my position here really going to be? Whore?
Housekeeper? Slave worker? General dog's body? Secretary? Or what? Sitting here
like a woman of leisure, I'm confused."

"I can rule out some of those. You won't be a whore because as I understand it a
whore has sex with anyone. I shall keep you to myself. Slave worker? No. I shall
expect a good days work done but you won't be worked from early morning to late
at night but the hours will have to be flexible. As we agreed I will pay you by
the week and not by the hour so there wont be a set starting or finishing time.
General dog's body? In some ways yes. I shall expect you to try and tackle
whatever tasks come along that are within your capabilities. Housekeeper
obviously but perhaps the best description for you will be unmarried wife. We'll
do things like a married couple except it may be more like a Victorian couple
where the man was the master. Has that made it any clearer for you?"

Margaret nodded and muttered that it seemed not much different to her life at
home. Tears came to her eyes. Jeremy noticed this and said, "Perhaps, perhaps
not." For a while he sat and stared at her until she began to feel
uncomfortable. "Take off you clothes Margaret." It was an order. An order from
an officer, "I want to have a good look at you."

"This is it," she thought. "Might as well get it over with." Starting to peel
off her clothes she asked, "Jeremy, wouldn't you like to put some music on and
make me do a strip tease dance?"

"Not this time. Just get them off." It wasn't long before Margaret stood naked
before him, half hiding her breasts and pubic area with her arms. "Put your
hands behind your neck. I said I wanted a good look at you woman." From the tone
of his voice Margaret knew he was in military mode and hastened to obey. "Come
closer." As soon as she was close enough, Jeremy started fondling her breasts
and then thrust his hand between her legs. It took only a short massage before
Margaret's juices were flowing.

"At least he's waited until I am wet," she thought, "That's more than father
ever did." Shortly afterward she found herself leaning over the arm of the
settee while Jeremy's cock thrust into her, doggie style. Although he did his
best to give Margaret some satisfaction by playing with her clit as he fucked,
he climaxed and shed his seed in her before her orgasm. "That's nothing new,"
Margaret said to herself but was surprised and pleased when her partner never
left her in this unsatisfied state but continued to masturbate her until she
came as well. "Thank you Sir," she muttered when they parted and once again sat
side by side. "Do you wish me to clean you Sir?"

"That would be nice, Margaret." The Colonel had reverted to what Margaret now
called his civilian mode, "That is if you don't mind." She didn't. It was a task
she had performed almost daily for many years. Kneeling between his legs she
opened his flies as wide as possible and sucked on his soft, sticky member until
it was clean.

"Thank you Margaret. I think I ought to perform the same service on you now."
The statement shook her. Only once, when she was very young had her father done
this. The surprise must have shown in her face because the Colonel went on,
"You're not used to that?" Margaret shook her head. "Well we'll just have to see
how you like it. Where I was in India, sex was almost part of their religion and
it was considered a duty to make sure both partners were well and truly
satisfied. I learned a lot from the woman they gave me as a temporary wife."

"Is that what you want me to be? Just temporary?" For a few moments Jeremy
thought he had offended her but then saw her smile.

"Just change places with me and we'll worry about job descriptions later,"
Jeremy smiled too as he laved her cunt and sucked her clit.



Chapter 3. Father's abuse

"Margaret? I know you gave me the short version of your CV yesterday, but you
left a great deal out, didn't you?" Margaret barely nodded, she guessed what was
coming. The pair lay cuddled together in his bed, fondling each other like a
pair of love birds. He played with her breasts and pubic area because he wanted
to, she played with him in the hope it would keep him happy and not beat her.
"You are obviously very experienced sexually and from what you have told me so
far, I guess it was with your father." Again the nod. There was a long pause
before Jeremy prodded, "Tell me." Margaret slowly shook her head and she started
to cry. "Tell me Margaret," Jeremy urged, "I would guess it is something you
have wanted to get off your chest for a long while. I give you my word, I will
not repeat what you say to anyone." For some minutes there was silence.

"I don't know where to begin," Margaret eventually stalled.

"At the beginning perhaps. Like when did he start to abuse you sexually."

"You know he could go to prison if this ever gets out? Even after all he's done
to me, he is still my father and I don't want that to happen."

"Margaret, I gave you my word. I will not speak to anyone about it. It is
patently clear you have been through a trauma, many traumas and maybe getting
them off your chest will help you. I'm not a counselor but I can and will
listen. I have seen and investigated things, horrible things done to women and
children that would probably make you sick to hear so don't be afraid to tell me
anything. From my experience, talking does help." The Colonels mind recalled his
time in Kosavo. Time he spent investigating the rape of Moslem women, child
prostitution and murder. Margaret's life might not have been easy, but it was
surely less traumatic than theirs. "So did the abuse start early in your life?"

"Quite early I suppose when I look back. Mother always seemed poorly and then
when her liver failed she wasn't able to do much. Father always spent more time
looking after me than she did. He was also the one who punished me. As far back
as I can remember it was always on the bare bottom, most often at bedtime when I
had nothing else on. He always maintained that nightdresses and pyjamas just
made more washing for him. Later I realised there were other reasons. Mother
only wore a nightdress when the nurse was due to visit and father always slept
in the nude. When I was due for punishment, which seemed more and more often as
I grew up, he would come into my bedroom wearing only his underwear and sit on
the bed. I would be ordered over his lap and he would position my bottom and
splay my legs so he could see everything and then spank me. I would wiggle and
squirm and later knew what that did to him and why he was often wet in the
crotch when he finished. Often he would come back later and put cream on. Again
it was some years before I realised why he did it although even when I was quite
young I found it quite pleasant especially after the soreness had gone down a
bit."

"Did your mother not know what was going on?" enquired Jeremy.

"I guess she did but chose to ignore it. She was in the same boat in a way. He
used to cane her when she displeased him although later when her illness
progressed and the nurses came to visit every other day, he had to be much more
careful and eventually had to stop altogether. Several times I had to watch
while she was caned. He bent her over the end of the bed and gave her bottom a
dozen hard strokes after which I was sent from the room. Once I peeped through
the keyhole to see if he put cream on her. All I saw was his bottom going back
and forth behind her. It was some time later I learned what they were doing."

"When did he start caning you?"

"That was some years later. First came the leather belt but soon after he bought
an old razor strop at a car boot sale and shortened it. It really hurt but the
marks faded quite quickly if he didn't catch me with an edge. I must have been
about fourteen when he first used the razor strop on me. I wasn't undressed and
ready for him when he came in to spank me. I said I was too old to undress in
front on him. My breasts were budding and I had a little hair growth between my
legs and I had started my periods. When he left the room for a few moments I
thought he had agreed but then he returned with the strop and just said, "Strip
off." He had stripped off himself and came towards me with his cock erect. I had
a pretty good idea of what would happen to me then. Prior to this after my
spanking, he spent a long while applying the cream and rubbing it between my
legs where there was no pain. I didn't complain after the first time. That
resulted in another spanking, the second being between my thighs. The last twice
he'd made no pretense about the fact he was sexually playing with me. I was made
to lay with my legs wide open and his fingers went right inside me. This time I
knew it would be more than his finger inside. "Strip off," he repeated. I looked
to see if there was any escape but he was between me and the door. I undressed
but when I tried to hide my breasts and genitals he swung the strop and caught
me across the stomach. I screamed but he only laughed and said, "You know what I
am going to do, don't you?" It was quite obvious as he had his cock in his hand
and was pointing it at me. "Put your hands on your head. I want a proper look at
you. All of you. Everywhere."

"By then I knew what sex was although I was still a virgin. One of my girl
friends had an older boyfriend and they used to fuck in the long grass at the
back of the school playing field at lunch time. They took me along to keep watch
in case a teacher came by. I cried out, "Mother, father's going to rape me!" The
strop struck my hip. Again I screamed.

Father only laughed. "If your mother comes in, it will only be to watch." The
strop landed on my other hip. "How many more strokes of this before you do as
you are told Margaret?" he asked. I put my hands on my head. His hands
immediately went to my breasts and then between my legs and stayed there for
some time fondling and playing with me. Before long he ordered me to bend over
the end of the bed. "You've seen how your mother takes it so seeing as I am
going to be treating you like an adult now, I shall punish you like one." For a
few moments he left the room and returned with a long rope which passed under
the bed. I knew what to expect. Each wrist was tied to the rope so my arms were
spread across the bed. I was sobbing now, knowing this would be a real hard
thrashing especially as this was the Easter holiday period and I wouldn't have
to go to school for two weeks and any marks would fade by then.



I was made to spread my legs as wide as possible. "I want your cunnie and
arsehole winking at me." I remember him saying. Then the first stroke landed
with a terrific WHACK!! I bucked and screamed and pleaded for him to stop but I
knew he wouldn't. I screamed for mother to help but she was sick and didn't
leave her room. "Perhaps you won't feel so tetchy about taking your clothes off
for me next time," he laughed again as though it was a big joke and laid another
WHACK! across my bum. Ten more times he hit me with that strop before he finally
put it down. I thought the pain incredible but that was certainly not the last
time he treated me that way.

I just lay bent over and face down on the bed. Moments later I felt his prick at
my entrance. It seemed too large but he forced it in. There was a stab of extra
pain as he broke my maidenhead and then proceeded to rape me with considerable
force. He was still laughing and joking that I would be getting a very different
cream this time. From somewhere I had the presence of mind to yell to him not to
make me pregnant and it must have got through because he pulled out and sprayed
his cum over my arse. It was this cream he rubbed into my battered bottom.

I prayed it was now all over but it was not to be. Standing by my head, I was
ordered to suck his cock clean. It looked revolting, all sticky and covered with
my blood and juices and his cum but I didn't dare not to put it in my mouth.

My humiliation still wasn't over. After I was released he took me to his bedroom
and showed my raw bum to my mother. She was very frail at this time but still
looked shocked. He took her hand and made her feel the heat and pointed out the
stickiness of the film covering it and the blood dribbling down my thighs.
"Emily," he went on, "You're not much use now to service a man, so I'm taking
Margaret as a replacement. She'll service me like you used to when you were in
your prime. And I'll keep her nice and tender like I did you for the first few
years. Do you remember dear? Whenever the marks on your arse or thighs or tits
faded, I'd replace them. She hasn't too much in the tit department yet, but I
guess after a few more fucks they will start to grow."

The next day I was taken to the family planning clinic and put on the pill. I
had to tell them a boy at school wanted to have sex with me and I wanted to be
prepared. After the pills took effect, I slept with in father's bed every night
and I became his wife in all but name. He fucked me alongside my mother. She
tried to look away but he made her watch and sometimes she had to lick us
afterwards. When I left school and there was less danger of anyone seeing the
results of his beatings he did carry out his promise to keep my flesh tender all
the time. By then he was into using the cane because he liked the stripy
effect." Margaret was crying on Jeremy's shoulder now and he didn't want to push
her further but did ask why she didn't just up and leave.

"Partly loyalty I suppose. At first it was fear of him going to prison and my
being put into care. After a while I didn't mind the sex especially when I
learned to control him a little and got satisfaction from it. I even didn't mind
some of the more gentle spankings but I did hate the thrashings and did what I
could to avoid them. Later mother did make me promise on her death bed to look
after him."

"Margaret, perhaps it will be better if we leave the remainder of your story
till another time. I can see you're upset from telling it."

"And I can feel it has made you horny," smiled Margaret, cheering up a little.



Chapter 4. Interview at the Manor

Margaret stared at the old handwritten book with its unintelligible entries.
Unintelligible that is until typed into this computer programme. Already from
bits and pieces they had decoded to test the programme, she had an inkling as to
what the journal contained. The sexual abuse of the women who came here for
shelter by the man who was supposed to protect them. In many ways their life
mirrored her own.

Sitting at the keyboard, Margaret mused that life for her during the three weeks
she had lived in this gaunt old house had been very different to living with her
father. Jeremy was a gentleman, strict but fair. She'd had a second hard
spanking a week ago, one she had almost provoked, and had on a number of
occasions gently warmed her breasts and pubic area before having sex with her
but apart from that he had been kind to her. Like her father, Jeremy was
sexually very active and liked to try a variety of ways and often several times
a day. He also subscribed to an adult book club and made her read some of the
juicier passages to him.

"Have you made a start yet?" Jeremy called as he passed the door. Nervously her
fingers began to type.

The Secret Journal of Josiah Winsberly, Master of the Workhouse at Pennydelset,
started March 21st 1831.

To anyone who finds this journal after I have gone and is able to unravel the
ciphers I used, I trust you will find the account of my life and pleasures with
the ladies at this workhouse in Pennydelset, most titillating. Had I thought of
the coding earlier I could have written down my experiences at my former
employment but they are now only past memories and it would take far too long to
cipher them. Be assured, this is a truthful account of my exploits. An account
that I dare not write in plain language for fear of it falling into the wrong
hands and my being prosecuted and sent to prison or worse.

It is not my intention to write a day by day account in the form of a diary. I
should have started some months ago had that been the case. Rather I intend to
give accounts of incidents that occurred even if they happened over a period of
some days.

For the record, I was appointed to this post at Michaelmas last year through the
good offices of Squire Pemberton who knew of my work with the ladies refuge in
Wyndmondham in Norfolk. He has a perchance for seeing women of all ages but
particularly the younger ones, punished on the bare flesh with the birch or cane
and then their bodies used as they should be, to satisfy men's lustful desires.

Squire Pemberton visited me at the Norfolk refuge a number of times and I was
able to arrange for him to witness several punishments. He particularly liked
the way I humiliated them by making them undress completely for even a simple
caning. Of course, while they were still strapped down after the caning, I
allowed him to relieve himself inside any lady he fancied before I did so
myself. He also praised me for having a young girl at hand during the punishment
to suck our cocks clean. A freshly thrashed and sobbing woman doesn't usually do
a good job in that respect.

At my interview at Grange Manor, the squire's home, for this position I gained a
further insight into his likings and found them so very similar to my own. A
young maid brought us some ale and upset the jug. She immediately became very
fearful and pleaded forgiveness. Squire ignored them and simply said quietly to
the trembling girl, "Mop up this mess Victoria and then take yourself to the
punishment room and have Higgins make yourself ready for us."

We sat and talked for a hour or so about the position at the workhouse and my
thoughts on keeping the ladies under control and what part he, as benefactor,
would play. It quickly became clear he wished to see the ladies disciplined and
we agreed that a Saturday evening would be the main punishment time although I
would be free to punish any one at the time of the offense if I deemed it
necessary. For minor infringements I would just put a cross by the lady's name
on a blackboard and these would be totaled and the appropriate punishment given
on the Saturday when the squire would be present to aid me. To help keep the
workhouse funds in good stead, he would bring friends to view the punishments
and partake of the girls charms for a fee.

Having finalised this the squire suggested we might adjourn to the punishment
room and deal with Victoria. I found the girl lying on a peculiar piece of
apparatus. It was akin to a carpenter's sawhorse in that it had stout splayed
legs at each end a little over two feet high. Connecting them was a spar about
five feet long and six inches in diameter. The sides were hewn away to make it a
triangular shape with the top of the rounded apex only a little over an inch
wide. Along its length lay Victoria. Someone, I later learned it was Higgins the
butler, had fastened her wrists tightly downwards to the front legs and her
ankles to the rear. The bar parted her breasts and the crack between her legs.
Victoria had been lying on it for some time when we arrived and was finding it
most uncomfortable.

Squire invited me to inspect the girl, which I did. She had nice full tits which
bore faint marks from a previous encounter with a birch rod as did her arse.
"Birch or cane," Squire asked. I opted for the birch. He gave me one and took
another for himself. "You first," he suggested. I stood to one side and lay a
stroke smartly across her bum. He laid on one from his side. So we proceeded to
birch the flesh in front of us until it was fully covered with welts and
Victoria was screaming for mercy at the top of her voice. "Isn't that sweet
music, Winsberly?" Squire asked, "I like to let them squeal a bit so the rest of
the staff know I haven't been soft on her." I agreed wholeheartedly.

"Which hole would you like?" I chose her arsehole and forced my cock in which
caused more squealing and then rode her until I climaxed. Squire then released
her ankles, lifted her slightly and rode her cunnie. While he was doing this
another young maid came forward and shyly sucked me clean. I was most gratified
he had seen fit to implement a suggestion I had made to him earlier in the year.

We left Victoria there for Higgins, to deal with. I am sure he and some of the
other male staff poked her as well.

I was well pleased when I was appointed to the post, knowing I would have the
squire's backing for whatever treatment I gave the ladies in my care. However, I
could not leave my position at Wyndmondham until Christmas and took my place
here on January 1st 1831.

Margaret paused her typing and scrolled to the top of the screen so Jeremy could
read it. "I think my father would have been quite a home here in those times,"
she remarked. "I'm sure he'd have liked to have lots of women stretched out on
devices like that bar."

"Most of them are still here you know. They are in a locked room on the end of
the cellar. I guess that was the punishment room for this house." If you want to
get into the mood of the tale, we can always clean them off." Jeremy gave a
little laugh, "I wouldn't mind having you helpless on that bar."

"And what would you do with me then you naughty man?" Margaret laughed too as
she put her hand on the bulge at his crotch.

"Birch you and rape you perhaps."

"I've never been birched." Margaret paused for a while staring almost blankly at
the screen. "Jeremy? This may sound odd but sometimes I miss not being beaten
before sex. I mean, I don't want an out and out thrashing so I can't move for
days, but a gentle warming now and again would spice things up a bit. I suppose
I just got used to it with father."

"Then I'm the one to do it. You're not the first girl I've had that needed a
good warming before a fucking. Although you are the first white girl."

"Can I trust you not to go too far?"

"No. You have to take that chance. That adds to the excitement. Once I have you
helpless I could thrash you unmercifully. Or I could just give you a nice
warming." Jeremy lifted Margaret's skirt and felt her unclothed cunt. It was
wet. "Well this seems to have turned you on too. Bend over that chair." She did
and Jeremy gave her arse a dozen smart smacks, enough to put a rosy glow to her
bum cheeks before thrusting his cock in and taking her fast and furiously.

Afterwards, as they sat side by side he asked her again about her feelings when
she read the account. "When I'm typing, I only see the coded letters but when I
read the story I get horny and sad too. I had feelings and sympathy for Victoria
but I also got sexually excited by what they did to her. It's a peculiar
dichotomy that I don't understand."

"I think we should explore it some more Margaret. Tomorrow, we'll unlock the
punishment room and get some lights in there. There's no electricity in that
room even. Then we'll get it cleaned up a bit and you can see what you might be
letting yourself in for."



Chapter 5. Indian experience

"Jeremy?" They lay in bed cuddled in each other's arms, "This morning you said I
wasn't the only girl you'd had that wanted to feel pain before sex. Was she
really like me? Were there others? Would you tell me about her or them please?"

"Of course dear, but it was quite a while ago and she wasn't a white girl. It
was when I was in India after they had gained independence. A few of us stayed
out there as liaison personnel. I had my own house and I had hardly got myself
settled when two women came in. One could speak english and spoke for the other
woman. "I am Irma. Do you wish to have a servant?" she asked, "This woman has a
young daughter that would serve you well and keep the place clean and will take
care of your personal needs." I knew from the way she said it, she meant my
sexual needs. I knew people in that area followed a form of Buddhism and many
were sexually promiscuous from an early age. "She speaks english and will work
hard," the woman went on.

"How old is she?" I asked not wanted a half grown child.

"Sixteen. And very nice looking Sir. Only cost you two english pounds a week."
From what I had already found out from living in other parts of India, it was
always necessary to bargain. Although I could easily afford the two pounds. The
whole family would live well on two pounds for nearly a month.

"I'll consider her. Please bring her to me so I can see for myself what she is
like." The girl must have been waiting just outside for they brought her in very
quickly. Even if they had exaggerated her age, she was small but had breasts
that were quite well on the way to being fully developed.

"This is Meena, Sheelan's daughter."

"Yes, she is very nice looking but is she able to work and cook and clean? She
looks a bit too young to have had much experience." I started my bargaining
ploy. After further discussion with the english speaking woman, I asked the girl
directly if she was willing to work hard. She just nodded but did not answer.
"Did you understand what I said?" I asked and she then spoke one word in reply,
"Yes." I wondered if it was just shyness in front of her mother and the other
woman so I let it go. In the end I got the girl for a pound a week.

However, by the end of the first week, I found the girl to be lazy and she
hadn't responded to any of my overtures so I hadn't had sex with her. She slept
in her own room and got up when she was ready. The meals she cooked were pretty
abysmal too. Not wanting to cause any friction between myself as a white man and
the natives, I didn't do what I might have done in other circumstances, namely
to give her a good hiding and then have my way with her. I resolved to see the
mother and return the girl. As soon as I tried to explain to the mother, she
took me away to Irma, the interpreter woman and through her I explained the
position. The mother became angry and said I was a fool in not taking her
daughter in hand and showing her who was boss. "No men here let their wives lead
them around. She just thinks you are a weakling because you tried to be nice to
her. I'll show you what to do." Saying this she went to a drawer, and utterly
surprised me by taking out a machete. I was about to protest when she marched
into the forest. Moments later she was back with a fresh rattan cane. The three
of us walked to my house. Meena was lying on the her bed, dressed but dozing.
She didn't doze for long. Sheelan brought the rattan down across her hips and
uttered a long string of what seemed to be invective in her own language.
Encouraged by another stroke of the cane, Meena undressed then, crying and
talking in her own tongue, lay face down. Irma held her down by the shoulders
and relayed Sheelan's instructions.

"If you cannot hold her down, tie her to the bed or a solid piece of furniture.
Make sure the part you want to hit is bare and you can safely hit hard here and
here." The mother indicated the back of the thighs to the base of the spine and
the shoulder areas. Irma turned the girl over for the mother to mark off an area
from just above the knees to her stomach and then her breasts but I was told it
was not good to hit so hard there and again between her thighs. It caused much
pain. For a youngster she seemed to have a fair amount of pubic hair and I
wondered how old she really was. By now, Meena was again face down and Sheelan
stood to one side. Without any warning she brought the supple green rattan down
hard across her daughter's arse. She used more force than I would have done.
Meena screamed and bucked but Irma held her firm. Five more times she cracked
the cane across that young arse. Even on the dark skin the welts showed up fiery
and angry. Sheelan handed me the rattan and Irma translated that I was to give
the girl the same again. I thought she'd already been punished enough but I had
already been called a fool for being weak so I laid on my six, waiting after
each one like my instructor had said, until Meena's writhings had quietened
down.

I had expected it to be all over then but no, Sheelan pointed to the bulge in my
crotch, made a circle with the fingers of her left hand and poked the index
finger of the right in and out. The meaning was clear. "You zig-zig." It was a
word I knew. Both older women watched expectantly as I pulled out my cock. They
seemed pleased when they saw it and gabbled for a few moments before Irma said,
"You must do it to her now. Do it hard and then do it again as soon as you can.
Do it often. She will respect you then."

"Please Sir, don't. I hurt too much now" Tears were streaming down her face as
she spoke the first sentence in english I had heard from her. Even if I had some
pity for her plight, my cock didn't. I rammed it in and was surprised to find
her hymen intact. It wasn't for long. I fucked her long and hard all the while
watched by Meena's mother and Irma until I shot my load and withdrew. Sheelan
then took hold of my prick and, when Irma sat the girl up, guided it to her
daughter's mouth. There was more jabbering that I didn't understand but I
gathered they were giving instructions on how the girl should be sucking me.

Sheelan left soon after but not before presenting the rattan to Meena with
instructions to ask me to use it on her whenever I felt it necessary. Irma
remained behind. "Captain Sir," she started, "You have much to learn about the
way of life here. We women are brought up to believe that a man does not love us
or want us if he cannot completely control of our lives. If he cannot take the
time to punish us when we are not doing our best or to warm our bottoms to make
us more receptive before entering us, then he does not care for us like he
should!

"I'm sorry, Irma. I didn't realise. I wanted to avoid and international incident
which I thought might have flared up if I had hurt Meena. Do you get punished as
hard as she was?"

"Meena's punishment was hard but not unusual. You have to remember that Sheelan
would have been in disgrace with her family had you sent Meena back. There was
also the money to consider. The wages you pay will keep the family well and
Sheelan would not have wanted to have lost that through her daughter's
negligence. She had to show you the right way to treat her daughter."

As Irma had been chatting away about personal things, I felt I could ask a
personal question. "Does your husband punish you?"

"Of course, but it's not often I actually get a punishment caning these days,
although I did get a caning just the other day."

"Was it as severe as the one we gave Meena?" I asked.

"Perhaps it was as hard but I only took half the amount." Meena started to say
something in her language but I told her to shut up and she did. Irma unwrapped
her sari and showed me six stripes across her bum. I also noticed many other
finer marks across both the back and front of her body, especially on her
breasts but before I could ask Irma went on.

"I would have expected a dozen for what I did but my sister took half as she was
partly to blame. Fatima and her husband were staying with us for a few days and
had been out visiting. They came back just as I was cooking the evening meal.
Fatima came bursting into the kitchen and started telling me about what they had
done during the day. I was so engrossed with her tale, the meat for the curry
started to burn. I tried to hide it with more spices but when it was served up,
everyone knew. There was that faint taste of burnt meat. Jamel, my husband, was
angry and ordered me to get the cane. I knew which one. A rattan about the same
size as the one Sheelan cut for you except this one was well seasoned and oiled.
As I returned with the cane I heard my sister speaking with her husband and he
spoke with Jamel. They agreed to share the punishment between us two wives and
Fatima had owned up to her part in the mishap. As the burnt meat had affected
everyone, they were to all witness our disciplining. We removed our saris and I
had to bend over the back of a chair and hold the front legs. My bottom was on
view to all including my two sons and daughter. But it was not the first time
they had seen me in this position. That was the least of my worries. I had to
try and keep quiet while Jamel laid the cane across my backside. I just about
managed it. Not like this young thing lying here." Irma pointed to Meena. "Then
Fatima took my place and I had to watch as she received her six stripes. She has
a bigger bottom than me so she may have felt the pain more as each stripe was
that much longer. We had to sit and finish our meal with the others even though
the woven cane bottom chairs dug painfully into our backsides."

I then got to ask about all the other stripes covering her body.

"Oh they are not punishment stripes, they are for warming me up ready for sex.
At the foot of our bed is a small table on which is kept and richly decorated
canvas roll containing an assortment of canes and straps. Each night before
retiring, and at any other times he feels like it, I have to unroll it so the
canes and straps are all laid out neatly, and then stand alongside it without
any clothes on. The punishment cane is there too but Jamel never chooses it for
foreplay. He selects which instrument he wishes to use, or sometimes he just
prefers his hand, and then decides which part of me needs warming. As you can
see, my breasts get it most often. He likes the way they move at each strike and
he knows only to make the cane sting until they are both very tender. If he
feels like taking me in the bottom, he has a little two pronged strap which he
whips that hole with while I have to hold my bottom cheeks apart so he can hit
the target properly. This also means he catches my cunt lips too which both
hurts and makes me, as you say, horny. With your much bigger cock than most men
I have seen here, I doubt you will have to stimulate Meena in that way for a
while."

"What about pregnancy?"

"No problem there. Our local doctor will give her a drink that induces an
abortion within a few days. It is the main form of contraception here. Pump her
as full of your sperm as you wish. We women like to feel our insides full of
it."

"And there will be no problems if I treat Meena like Jamel does you?" I asked.

"There will be more problems if you don't. She's been reading too many english
books where women have more rights than they should so you will have to punish
all that nonsense out of her. She needs a strong hard man. In the morning, get
her to take you to the market place to Mendles where you can buy a roll like I
have for yourself. They are available in all sorts of sizes, some ready filled,
others you buy what you think you need. Old Mendle will advise you but don't pay
the price he asks." Turning to Meena she added, "You know what a woman is
supposed to have in that roll. Make sure he gets it all. I'll come and check
later and if you have tried to get away with anything, I'll bring your mother
over and you can guess what that will mean."

"She did. Meena through lots of tears, started saying she was sorry for her
previous behaviour and she would do everything I wanted from now on. I had a
feeling there were crocodile tears amongst the genuine ones but let it go. Irma
left soon after admonishing me again to make sure I kept in full control of the
girl. I fully intended to."

"Do you wish me to be like Irma? To have a roll of punishment canes by my
bedside?" Margaret interrupted his tale.

"I still have the ones I bought in India. I'll show you in the morning. But
first let me finish telling you about Meena. You can ask questions at the end."
Jeremy paused as though thinking about where he had got too.

"Meena was still on the bed where I had left her to see Irma out. Her sobbing
had subsided somewhat and as I looked at her naked body my young cock began to
harden again. I turned her over and felt the welts on her arse. They were well
raised and she cried out when I pressed them but didn't make any attempt to stop
me. "Undress me," I ordered. Slowly and painfully she got to her feet and helped
me take my clothes off. "On your back and spread those legs nice and wide."
Again she subserviently did so. She cried out when my weight put pressure on her
arse but in my lust I ignored that and pounded her until I came again. After she
had sucked me clean I set her to work, doing the cleaning jobs she should have
done the previous week. I worked in my office for a while checked on her at
intervals. She worked as well as she was able considering her sore muscles. When
bedtime came, I spanked the inside and front of her thighs.

Meena took me to the market the next day and I bought the punishment roll and
Mendles helped me fill it with what he thought was necessary. Word had already
gotten to him about Meena's behaviour so I think he suggested the best
disciplining tools he had. And it wasn't just because they were more expensive
although he knew I could well afford to pay for them. Meena didn't seem keen on
some of the items but that didn't matter. I got to use them on her anyway and as
Irma had said, these warming up canes were certainly very effective in getting
the girl horny.

Meena stayed with me for the whole of my fourteen months tour of duty there and
I was very sorry not to have been able to have brought her back home with me but
army regulations didn't allow it. I did get to visit many families in the town
and the surrounding country and on occasions witnessed wives and daughters being
punished so Irma's situation was by no means unique."

Margaret could feel Jeremy's cock was hard again even though it wasn't but half
an hour ago they had fucked. "For an old man, you can get it up pretty well,"
she remarked, "Perhaps I shall have to get you telling your horny stories more
often."

"I get even hornier when I have tenderised some tit flesh first," Jeremy
laughed.

"Well I don't need tenderising at the moment. I just need this inside me." She
climbed on top of him, inserted his cock and bounced on it until they both
climaxed and lay still.



Chapter 6. New master at the workhouse

Margaret sat at the computer again the following afternoon. She was a little
tired from the morning's exertions and Jeremy had given her the afternoon off
but she wanted to find out more about Josiah Winsberly. She and Jeremy had spent
the morning in the punishment room sweeping and vacuuming and looking over the
apparatus there. Moving it around was heavy, dusty, work. Some of the frames
were constructed of heavy timber and wedged in position. Dirt and decades of 
grime covered everything and repairs would be needed before the items could be
used again, even if they wanted to use them. Some of their time was spent trying
to guess what the items were actually used for. The A framed stool was there so
Josiah must have copied the one from the manor. Margaret lay along it fully
clothed and soon began to feel very uncomfortable. "Pity it's so dirty," Jeremy
remarked, "I would have liked to have seen how you fitted on it."

By midday they were filthy and exhausted and decided to call it quits for the
day. They bathed together and then Jeremy had to go into town. Now as long as
she had dinner ready at the proper time, Margaret was free to do what she liked.
She sat and idly ran her fingers over the keys, adjusted the desk light before
settling down to read the coded, faint lettering in the book.

'I will start my account with the details of my arrival at Pennydelset and my
first dealings with the workhouse occupants. Dealings that would prove
exceedingly decisive for my subsequent mastery of them. Prior to my arrival, the
old master, one John Allgrove, had died and having been in ill health for some
time, the workhouse had become very run down. His assistant, Jack Crow, is still
here. A good strong lad in his early thirties and a good worker, one who I have
found will faithfully follow orders but is at a loss when put in charge. During
his stewardship the women here took great liberties with him. For the last few
months before I came, therefore, it was mainly the older women who ran things
and who had become more and more lazy and recalcitrant to being given orders.
The worst of these was a Miss Harrington, a spinster of sixty-five years with a
sour disposition and a sharp tongue. Squire Pemberton had warned me about the
way of things before I arrived but they were far worse than I had been led to
expect.

Jack Crow and one of the girls met my carriage but the other inmates remained
inside despite the fact the weather was dry and bright although exceedingly
cold. Most of the others sat around the fire in the kitchen and some didn't even
deign to stand when I entered. I stood them in line and rebuked them roundly for
their behaviour. All told their were fourteen of them, of which only three were
tolerably young and attractive. Another four or five were under forty and quite
reasonable looking for their age, while the remainder were getting on in years
with wrinkled skin and sagging breasts. After giving them a good tongue lashing
which lasted about twenty minutes, I set them to work getting the place cleaned
up. Inside I was seething at their attitude and resolved there would be some
sore flesh before the end of the day. Before they slept that night they would
learn who was in charge of this workhouse. I ordered everyone to be in the
refectory at one for lunch.

"Alice," I called to the girl who had met my carriage, "You will accompany me
and show me around the building." I was pleased she did a little curtsy and said
"Yes, Sir."

However, hardly had the words left her lips when an older woman, a Mrs. Warboys
interrupted me. "I am in charge of the house Sir. Not Alice."

"Are you indeed," I replied, "Then you will be one of those receiving the rod
tonight for the appalling state of the place. Now get yourself to work woman."

The first room Alice showed my was my own. The fire was lit but barely drawing,
there was dust and dirt everywhere and I doubted the sheets had been changed
since my predecessor. "Who is supposed to look after this room?" I enquired of
Alice.

"Mrs. Warboys Sir. "She was very fond of old Mr. Allgrove and spend many of her
nights here."

"How would you like to set this room to rights and keep in my good books by
warming my bed at night Alice?" I supplemented the question by giving her bosom
a rub.

"If that is what you wish Sir," she replied thrusting her chest out a little
more and giving my hand access to the inside of her shift.

We continued the rounds of the workhouse and at one point found Miss Harrington
sitting on a chair pretending to be dusting. When I challenged her, she sort to
suggest that elderly ladies like her should be treated with respect and not be
forced to do menial work. She even tried to suggest that I was already exceeding
my role and would petition the vicar for my removal. Seeing the vicar played
little part in my appointment, I almost laughed at her but just said, "We will
see, Miss Harrington, we will see." I gave her no hint as to what I planned for
her.

Cook was shocked when I sat at the head of the refectory table and ordered her
to sit on my left hand side. She had expected me to eat in my room and to have
hers in the kitchen with Jack and her assistant. The three of us and Jack would
have better food than the rest. I may be a hard man as far as discipline goes
but I do believe in giving good food to all the inmates. If the women were to be
my playthings and paying amusements for my customers, they would need to have
some flesh covering their ribs. I had already felt how thin Alice was. "Cook," I
instructed, "Put all the food into the one pot and serve it from there to
everyone." Her face nearly went blue. The thin gruel she served from that pot
was tasteless water. "How long have you been cook? I asked.

"Three years Sir. I didn't expect you to eat that stuff Sir. I made yours
special."

"Is the allowance you have for food insufficient then Cook?"

"It is none too much Sir."

"But methinks you could do more with it, Cook." Cook looked down and I resolved
to go over her accounts.

At the end of the poor meal, I stood and gave a little speech detailing what I
expected of the women in future, the punishment system and the way the workhouse
would be run. As was to be expected the punishment system caused most concern
and it was of course Miss Harrington that chose to be most vociferous in her
condemnation especially when I intimated that all punishments would be carried
out with the recipient completely naked and they would be available afterwards
for sexual pleasure. My speech ended with the statement, "Normally most
punishments will be carried out on Saturday evenings in front of invited guests
who will help to pay for some of the running costs of this place and the funds
will help to provide you with better food and lodging conditions, but because of
the laxity and disrespectful behaviour of three members of this community, I
will punish them here and now, unless they wish to leave immediately taking with
them only those things they personally own and were not supplied by the
workhouse." I knew of course, they would have come with almost nothing and
clothing would have been given them from the workhouse store, a store  that was
donated by charities. "The three for punishment now are, Miss Harrington, Mrs.
Warboys and Cook. Of course it was Miss Harrington that again, voiced her
opinions and refused to remove her dress or allow herself the be punished,
deeming herself too old for that sort of thing. For a few moments I left them
and returned with my case of canes and a whip.

"Much as I prefer the birch, I doubt if there are any ready made and steeped
here. Miss Harrington, are you going to undress and take the caning I intend to
give you or will I have Jack hold you down while I whip your buttocks until you
are ready to take your clothes off and then give you your caning. Either way you
will receive your due." Still the woman protested, maybe thinking I would
desist. "Jack, hold that woman down across the table." Noticing the gleam in his
eye, I knew I would have a collaborator. He no doubt had suffered from the
woman's sharp tongue and in a trice she was firmly held. "Alice, lift the
woman's shift and remove any undergarments that obscure her buttocks. Alice
trembled as she did so. I bade everyone to move where they could see the whip
land and the resulting welts. I laid on three good strokes which brought forth a
tremendous wailing from the woman. "Are you ready to undress?" I asked.

"You're a perverted Satan!" she spat. I laid on another three and repeated my
question. "No more," she cried, "You'll kill me. An old woman can't take any
more." For the third time I asked if she was ready to undress. This time she
nodded yes. We all watched as the shift came off and her wizened flesh and
sagging breasts were revealed. I had Jack tie her hands to an overhead beam and
picked up a cane. There was fear in her eyes now and amidst her crying and
howling she pleaded with me not to cane her. She felt her punishment had already
been given. I felt otherwise and laid four strokes of the cane across her back,
four more across the back of her thighs, and a further four across the front.

At my instructions we left her there writhing for five minutes. Her modesty was
gone. All she thought about was the pain. Until I told Jack he could take her. I
had noticed the bulge in his breeches and on his opening them, revealed a rod of
large proportions. From the unfazed reactions of most of the women, I guessed
they had seen it before. Jack lifted the hanging woman behind the knees and
lowered her on to his throbbing prick. Seeing he had some difficulty in
entering, one of the women splayed the old ladies cunt and guided Jack's cock
in.

"My God, she's tight and dry," groaned Jack but nevertheless pulled her in by
her sore arse and then pounded her like she was thirty years younger. Some of
the onlookers had tears in their eyes but many of the younger ones just looked a
little hot and I dare say they felt more than a little aroused. Cook and Mrs.
Warboys looked very afraid and were openly crying. Jack came surprisingly
quickly so her ordeal didn't last as long as I hoped and she was taken down but
not allowed to dress.

It was now Cook's turn. She undressed at the first order. More food had
obviously entered her mouth as there was plenty of meat on her bones. Cook was
about forty years old and still in good condition. Her titties were full and her
nipples responded to my kneading them. When I placed my hand between her thighs,
I found she was wet. The caning of Miss Harrington had turned her on but a dozen
strokes of the cane soon had her singing loudly. Although I didn't really hurt
her tits, I did flick them with the cane and made them move around. Glancing
around at the watching women, I noted their horrified expressions. They now knew
their lives here would change.

Jack untied her and laid her along one of the refectory benches. I ordered two
girls to hold her legs well apart. Again I felt her cunt and it was still wet so
I had no trouble in rogering her and I too soon spurted my seed.

Alice was somewhat shocked when I ordered her to kneel in front of me and suck
my cock clean. Had I not pointed to where she should kneel with the cane, she
might have refused but wisely she guessed it was less painful to comply. She did
a passable job but would need some training.

"You know what to do Mrs. Warboys," I ordered but she started to plead and beg
until I picked up the whip and caught her chest with a good lash. She screamed
and turned away from me, hugging her bosom with her arms. My second swipe swung
upwards and caught the back of her thighs well towards the crease with her arse.
Another scream and she fell to the floor and I was able to put the third across
her stomach. "Are you going to undress now Mrs. Warboys?" I asked. A whimpered,
"Yes," and she started to unbutton her shift. Despite having hit through
clothing, the whip marks were clear and painful looking, especially the one
across her tits. That had been a good blow, even if it was a lucky one and once
she was strung to the beam I took the opportunity to knead them which caused her
further distress. From my close proximity to her, I could tell from the smell,
her body had not been washed for some time and resolved to ensure more personal
cleanliness for the inmates in the very near future.

I gave her a similar dozen strokes to Miss Harrington, laying them on good and
hard to the younger woman. Jack still hadn't fastened his breeches and I could
see he was half hard so I suggested he took her in any way he wanted. In moments
he had her bent over the table and was thrusting into her doggie style, heedless
of her cries as he loins banged hard against the well caned arse.

Wanting to add further humiliation and to reinforce my authority with the
others, I ordered the three still naked women to stand in the centre of the room
with their feet apart and their hands behind their necks. Each of the onlookers
then had to go to them and feel the heat from the stripes and to finger their
sperm filled cunts. I rounded this session off with another lecture on the
behaviour I expected from them and expounded on how their laziness of the past
months was at an end. This was a workhouse and they were expected to work, if
they didn't they would be punished and punished hard and always they would be
naked and might well be in front of others when it happened. I also mentioned
the standard of personal cleanliness and I would closely inspect each and every
one of them while they were bathed in the kitchen that very afternoon.

An hour later, the bath was set up and I ordered Alice to be the first. She was
cleaning my room when I called her. Slowly and shyly she undressed and I could
see that with a little feeding up she would have a very attractive body. One
that should bring in a decent revenue. When I felt her breasts she blushed and
started writhing when I felt her cunt and played with her clit. "Don't be shy
Alice," I said, "You body is your greatest asset and may well get you away from
here eventually. I shall be training you with my cock to please my friends and
you may then be able to charm them into becoming their mistress or even their
wife." Although my ministrations with her caused my cock to rise, I wanted to
wait and savour her more fully in bed that night.

Though the afternoon I inspected and minutely examined all the inmates. Most
were quite fuckable if presented properly. While the majority seemed to resent
the way I checked their personal cleanliness one or two didn't seem to mind at
all and allowed me to bring them off with my hand. Only one was younger than
Alice and she had come from the orphanage two weeks previously but wasn't a
virgin. I gather the orphanage staff took care of that. Her name was Martha and
seeing her tight little cunnie and bumhole I almost gave up my resolve to wait
till I'd had Alice in bed.

At teatime the meal .....'

"Oh my God!" screamed Margaret, "Look at the time! Should have started the meat
cooking half an hour ago. Jeremy will be annoyed. Just have to hope he's late
too."

If anything Jeremy was a few minutes early but to Margaret's surprise he didn't
seem to be unduly concerned so she hoped it would all pass over. That was until
he said, "I think it is time we opened the cane roll Margaret, don't you?"



Chapter 7. Lateness gets punished

"Jeremy, no, please no. I couldn't help it. I was working on that diary book of
yours and didn't notice the time."

"Yes, and I expect it got you so horny you just sat and played with yourself,"
retorted Jeremy smiling.

"No Jeremy, please. I didn't even read it properly. I only saw the code words as
I typed them. I didn't even go back and correct the text. I'm sorry Jeremy.
Dinner will only be half an hour late."

"That's not the point Margaret. I gave you a simple task and you failed me.
However, we'll eat first and then read the diary text to put us in the mood and
if I think you have half an excuse I will allow you to chose the cane and I will
decide on which part of your body to use it. Or would you prefer I chose the
cane and you the part of the body for me to use?"

"Neither Jeremy. Sometimes I think you are as cruel as my father." Rather than
start arguing with her, Jeremy left the kitchen and started to read the story on
computer. It certainly got him horny and ready for his session with Margaret
later. He decided to up the stakes a little when he returned.

"There are rather a lot of mistakes in your typing Margaret. Perhaps we ought to
add those to the punishment tonight."

Margaret became very angry. "Jeremy, Colonel, you are most unfair. I told you I
hadn't read through the document yet. Yes, some of those mistakes may be my
typing errors. I know I haven't become familiar with that particular keyboard
yet but they are not all my mistakes. Josiah made mistakes with his coding too
and as with the last piece I typed I will have to guess at some of the words.
The writing is almost illegible in places even with a good light. No, I don't
think I deserve further punishment for that, nor for the fact that you read the
story before it was ready to be presented to you. You are very unfair. Unjust. I
thought that was something that was against your principles. You said you were
strict by fair. Is that now not the case?" Realising she was right, Jeremy
agreed to only punish her for being late with the meal. However, Margaret still
seethed with resentment and they ate in strained silence.

While Margaret washed the dishes, Jeremy cleared a table in the bedroom and
found the cane roll in the store room where all his unpacked belongings were
kept. For the moment he decided to leave it inside the double black plastic bin
liners that had kept it clean for a number of years. It might excite his
housekeeper more if she had to unpack it. She was rather upset with him. Below
he could hear the clatter of pans and rightly guessed she was having a more
thorough clean than usual in order to delay the inevitable.

"Come Margaret," he ordered quietly when he returned to the kitchen. Silently
she followed him to the bedroom. "Undress." With the fan heater going full blast
for the past hour, the room was reasonably warm.

"Please Jeremy, don't be too hard on me."

"It is for me to decide your punishment dear. It will fit your behaviour and
strengthen your resolve to do better next time." After a pause he added, "And it
might work you up a little and take away some of that despondency you've been
showing over dinner. I ought to punish you for that too you know. Open the bag
Margaret."

Margaret gasped when the cane roll was revealed. The beautiful and very
colourful intricate designs interwoven with gold thread belied their sinister
contents.

"It's beautiful, very beautiful, Jeremy." She ran her fingers over the raised
pattern and studied bizarre creatures worked into the design. Jeremy allowed her
to spend some minutes enjoying the work and then again ordered her to open it.
Trembling, Margaret unrolled it to reveal its painful contents. Inside, all in
their individual pockets and tied in place with colourful ribbons, were a
selection of canes ranging from one about three feet long and about as thick as
her little finger, to shorter and thinner but very whippy canes. Besides the
canes were a small leather riding crop, a multi-stranded soft leather whip,
several more single tailed whips, several straps and other items she couldn't
understand the purpose of. "Oh my God," exclaimed Margaret when she saw the
instruments that were likely to bring much pain to her body and perhaps some
pleasure too.

"We'll try them all out eventually Margaret, but for today you get to chose
which I use. Take your pick."

Knowing she had no real choice but to do what the Colonel said it was with much
trepidation and not a little excitement, Margaret touched the awesome selection
of canes, whips and straps. Which should she chose? She knew the feel of
terrible bite of the larger cane but guessed he wouldn't give her as many
strokes with that as with the more slender ones and it would probably be used
only on her arse and not the more tender parts of her anatomy. Picking up a very
slender cane, almost two feet long and only a quarter of an inch thick at its
base tapering to almost nothing at the tip. It felt supple and springy in her
hand and she shuddered to think of the pain that might deliver if wielded with
any force on her breasts or between her legs. Then there was the group of
slightly thicker canes elaborately bound with gold, red and yellow cord.
Obviously these were the Indian equivalent of the English birch but made to last
possibly from a tough native vine. For a few moment Margaret forgot they were to
be used on her and thought of the young Meena lying naked and taking this birch
across her bottom. Her reverie was interrupted when she felt Jeremy behind her
and his hands cupping her tits.

"They're lovely aren't they?" For a fleeting moment Margaret thought he was
referring to her tits but this was banished when he went on, "They were the best
and most expensive in Mendle's shop and he said they would last a lifetime."
Despite her expected punishment, Margaret found herself warming to the breast
massage Jeremy was giving her. Replacing the birch, she picked up the soft
leather many-tongued whip. Each strand was as wide as her index finger and of
thin soft suede but probably from an animal other than a cow. "This feels nice,"
she thought as she pulled the strands, "Perhaps it won't hurt too much." Out
loud she moaned at Jeremy's ministrations and the wet feeling that was making
itself felt between her thighs.

"Choose, Margaret." The suede whip was still in her hand so she indicated this
was her choice. It didn't feel that fearsome a weapon. "You've chosen the
'Tittie Tickler' Margaret. It's made from the hide of a yak. Soft, supple and
very tough. These tits of yours will be red, sore and nicely tender before we go
to bed tonight."

"Please don't hit them too hard Jeremy please." Margaret started to plead more
for the effect than having any hope he would take any notice. By now she knew
full well that once he had made up his mind to do something, very little would
change it. Her pleas would just make her seem more helpless and unwilling than
she really was. She knew the warming of her tits if not too severe would warm
her cunt too and hoped Jeremy would be up to a long fucking session afterwards.

"Let's prepare you Margaret." Prepare her? Her father had just held her and
thrashed her. No 'preparation'. And no preparation for the rape that inevitably
followed, whichever hole he decided to penetrate. Moving a heavy solid oak chair
from a corner to the centre of the room, Jeremy tied her hands behind the back
and then tightly fastened a belt around her and the chair at waist level.
Satisfied her body was almost immovable in the chair Jeremy stuffed a pillow
behind her shoulder blades forcing her breasts forward. "That should do nicely,"
he said as he squeezed her nipples.

"Jeremy?"

"Now don't bother begging Margaret. I'm going to thrash your tits and nothing
you say will alter that but if you whine too much I may have to gag you."

"I know that, Jeremy. I was going to ask that you undress too. I can see you're
sweating from the heat of the fan and I want to see what effect my thrashing has
on you."

"You just want to see if my cock is ready on cue!" Jeremy laughed but although
surprised, did as she requested. Watching with a mix of dread and anticipation
as her partner went to the cane roll, she looked in askance when instead of
bring back the Tittie Tickler he opened a bottle of oil and poured a few drops
into the palm of one hand. The aromatic smell wafted to her nostrils as Jeremy
massaged it into her breasts. "This will warm them and get them ready for the
whipping," Jeremy explained. What he meant was the oil stimulated the blood
cells in the breasts causing them to swell slightly and become firmer and make
the nipples stand out hard. The lash would bite them hard but for now the effect
on Margaret was stimulating. She wished he would just push that cock of his that
stood out so proudly, right into her cunt and fuck her hard. That, though, would
come later. First the pain.

For fifteen minutes, Jeremy massaged her breasts until she could stand the
eroticism no longer and climaxed wetly. "Well that's your first orgasm out of
the way," Jeremy remarked, "Now let's get to the real purpose of this, your
punishment." Margaret began to come down from her high when she saw the tickler
raised high in Jeremy's hand. Then the swish before the blast of pain as the
soft thongs bit hard and flattened her tits. A piercing cry came from her lips.
The pain was far worse than she had expected.

"A little more than a tickle, Margaret?"

"Oh my God! Yes! I didn't expect that. It seemed so soft but it hurts so bad.
Please Jeremy, not so hard. My tits won't stand it."

"Oh yes they will. While this is designed to hurt, it does little damage to the
flesh and the marks disappear quite quickly but you won't want to wear a bra for
a while. Open your mouth." Jeremy went to the roll and removed a chunky solid
leather pad. "This isn't a gag, but you can bite on it and it should help to
stifle your screams. Designed to stop you biting your tongue."

SWISH, SLAP!! SWISH, SLAP!! SWISH, SLAP!! SWISH, SLAP!! SWISH, SLAP!! So Jeremy
laid the Tit Tickler on. For a few moments Margaret wondered if he was in
control of himself and whether like her father, he would hit her blindly until
she passed out. Although there was a wicked gleam in his eye, there wasn't any
indication he wasn't hitting her with control and dedication. Each blow didn't
fall randomly anywhere. They precisely covered all the tit area above, below and
between the teats. Finally the thongs caught, tortured and brought stinging pain
to the hardened nipples. Between tears she noticed his cock jutting out proudly.
The pain in her tits grew to a tremendous burn before he finally stopped and
gently kissed each tender breast.

Releasing her at last, she was laid across the bed, her legs dangling over the
edge, her thighs spread obscenely ready for his cock. Jeremy couldn't wait.
Thrusting his cock straight in, he found her very wet and ready. With his own
excitement now at a peak, it wasn't long before he spurted his seed into
Margaret's waiting womb.

Later, when they had rested and he'd bathed her reddened breasts for the second
time, he took her again, this time with more control and lasting long enough for
Margaret to have her own climax. For a long while afterwards she lay spoon-like
in front of the man who had tortured her so, and pondered on the events. There
was no denying he'd hurt her. There was no denying her breasts would be sore for
days and yet he had given her sexual satisfaction afterwards in a way her father
hadn't. Jeremy's ways were somewhat strange but he seemed to like her and
somehow she trusted him. He hadn't lost control when she was totally helpless.
The punishment he inflicted was painful but calculated and in the end she'd cum
violently. What would the future hold for her? With him? More dreadful pain from
some of the more severe canes? More sexual satisfaction? Would he want to give
her more and more pain? Like her father? Should she leave and see what other
work she could find? In winter? Back on the streets? Perhaps she should stick it
out. At least for the time being.



Chapter 8 Fraudsters

"Aargh!" Margaret awoke from a troubled sleep with a start. Jeremy's hands were
gently massaging her sore breasts, His unexpected although light touch on the
tender and sensitive mammaries roused her.

"Sorry," whispered Jeremy, "I forgot they would still be so tender."

"You whip a woman's tits till they're swollen and raw and not expect them to be
sore the next morning?" Margaret tried to make her voice sound icy but didn't
quite make it. She felt his hard cock against her buttocks. It would probably go
down when he pissed, she thought. Opening her eyes she noted the red numbers of
the digital clock, 6:50. The fan heater was on. With no central heating in the
old house, Jeremy had put the heater on a timer so the room would warm a little
by the time they arose. In a few minutes she'd have to get up anyway to make his
morning cup of tea and start breakfast.

Feeling Jeremy move away from her slightly, Margaret turned on her back and
winced as her breasts rubbed on the covers. The light went on. The covers were
pulled down. "Yes, they are indeed still swollen and tender Margaret. I'll put
some salve on them when you've washed. Meanwhile I need to relieve myself of
this hard-on." Jeremy spoke in his usual quiet way and for a short while
Margaret thought he would get up and go to the lavatory. That was until she felt
his hand start to finger her cunt and stimulate her clit until her juices were
flowing freely. "Open up dear," he ordered as he inserted his cock into her and
started thrusting away. It wasn't long before Margaret thrust back and they both
climaxed. Jeremy exhausted collapsed on her.

"Aargh!" Margaret exclaimed as his chest pressed against her sore tits but after
the initial shock, the pain was bearable and she held him to her.

"In some ways Jeremy, you are like my father. Both of you like hurting girls and
then fucking them. Where you differ is you control yourself whereas he just let
himself go and didn't worry overmuch how much he damaged me. Afterwards he just
fucked me until his lust was satisfied. You try and make sure I am satisfied
too. He never ever did anything to try and relieve my pain, you do. He would
never suck my cunt, you seem to enjoy it and I like sucking you too. Last night
the pain in my tits was so great, but I knew they were not wounded like some of
the canings I'd had on them when the marks would take weeks to disappear. Now
when your body is pressing on them I have a warm glow all over and feel horny.
If you don't punish me for being late with breakfast, I will suck you clean and
then offer my body to you again if you want to use it."

Jeremy looked at the clock. "Breakfast will be at 8:15 this morning," he
grinned, "Now wench, climb on top of me and clean me while I perform on your
delightful warm crack of yours. You'll have to be quick mind. I need to pee
pretty badly."

"So do I," laughed Margaret, "And that is another of the perversions, my father
made me perform."

"You're probably much more experienced at it than I but I have tried it quite a
few times and it is not too unpleasant. In India some groups of people actually
think it is a beneficial tonic."

"Just go easy then Jeremy and I will too. We don't want to wet the sheets. In
this weather it is difficult to get them to dry." Jeremy smiled at the
practicality of her remark.

For some minutes their tongues cleaned each other's genitals until Jeremy asked,
"Are you ready?" A murmured, "Yes" and her felt her finger grasp the base of his
cock ready to control the flow. He had no such option. Now he felt her lips
tighten around his shaft and his flow start. Every so often she stopped his flow
to swallow. Even when he finished her tongue still licked around his cock head.

"Are you ready now?" Margaret asked. Receiving his assent, she said, "I will try
and go slow and stop at intervals so you can swallow too." As the acrid liquid
touched his throat, Jeremy recalled the beautiful young woman in the India who
first introduced him to this service. He'd bedded her for several months and
delighted in taking his piss into her either directly from his prick or by
filling a glass. An hour or so later, she insisted on giving it back to him,
recycled through her system. Meena hadn't been so keen although she did so when
ordered.

*****

By mid morning coffee break, the essential household chores were done. "What
would you like me to do now Jeremy?" Margaret asked.

"I think I will try and finish or at least continue sorting out the punishment
room and the equipment so we can get it back in there tidily. I'm expecting
someone from the planning office to visit next week and want that room locked up
when he comes. You can carry on decoding the diary and if I need help then I'll
give you a call. You can even leave your tits on show while you're typing then
your sweater won't rub them."

"Yeah, and they change from red to frozen blue in this cold workhouse!"
Margaret's laugh took the sting from the comment.

After correcting her work of the previous afternoon, Margaret tried to picture
the scene as it had occurred in the other room all those years ago as she read
again the last paragraph,

'Though the afternoon I inspected and minutely examined all the inmates. Most
were quite fuckable if presented properly. While the majority seemed to resent
the way I checked their personal cleanliness one or two didn't seem to mind at
all and allowed me to bring them off with my hand. Only one was younger than
Alice and she had come from the orphanage two weeks previously but wasn't a
virgin. I gather the orphanage staff took care of that. Her name was Martha and
seeing her tight little cunnie and bumhole I almost gave up my resolve to wait
till I'd had Alice in bed.'

"I wonder what went through their minds as they stood in the tin bath and had to
allow a stranger to examine them? No doubt 'minutely examined' meant he'd had
his fingers in their 'cunnies' or mauled their tits. I bet he had a hard-on
while he did it. Pity there is no picture of him. Better get typing before I get
too horny," she mused.

'At teatime the meal was somewhat improved but still it was a meagre repast. I
again cautioned cook that things had better improve otherwise she would taste
the birch on her already sore body. Her reply was that the money she was allowed
to buy food was insufficient. Immediately after the meal I demanded the accounts
book which she reluctantly gave me. In my room I questioned Alice about some of
the luxury items listed and the amount of meat supplied and was told she had
never seen any of these things and the quantities of other basic items always
seemed greater than was actually arrived at the house. Warning Alice not to
mention any of this to anyone, I returned the ledger and took Alice to bed. She
was most enjoyable and enthusiastically took my cock in her cunnie and her
bottom hole, which pleased me.

March 23rd 1831

Next morning when the grocer's cart from Pennydelset arrived and Cook had
supposedly checked them, I had Jack put the supplies to one side and checked
them again against the bill. Alice was there and was found to be quite good at
adding up the figures. As I had suspected, there was a large discrepancy.
Immediately I ordered Jack to bring Cook to me. Her ashen face when showed the
bill, told me she was in on a scheme to make a little money on the side by
defrauding the workhouse. Unfortunately for her, she had had no time to warn the
grocer that I was looking into the books. Between us we stripped her and tied
her hands to the beam just as we had yesterday. This time though I sent everyone
except Jack from the room. Cook pleaded incessantly for me not to hit her again,
as she was still sore from her caning. This was true but I had no intention of
allowing that to influence me. When Alice came back in with the cat-o-nine-tails
I had sent her for I showed her the fearsome instrument and cracked it loudly in
front of her. After her hysterics had calmed a little I said, "Cook, we know you
have been stealing workhouse funds, if you don't want that skin of yours flayed
off you bones, you had better tell us how you and Mr. Bell the grocer, worked
this scheme. Answer me now!" When she didn't I laid a stroke across her
shoulders which brought forth a hideous scream. I stood in front of her again
and made as if I would strike her bosom. At this she broke down and told us
everything. According to her Mr. Bell was the instigator, Mr. Bell made the
money and she only got a few pennies from the arrangement. I pretended to
believe her. Giving Jack orders to lock her in an attic room and not allow
anyone to visit her except him, I took to my horse and sort out Squire
Pemberton. While I felt free to deal with one of my women, I didn't wish to
affect any dealing he might have with Bell.

Squire heard me out and then remarked sagely, "So Bell is up to his old tricks
again is he? He'll have to be taught another lesson." He went on to explain his
cook had been approached but she had told Squire who suggested she went along
with the plan so they caught him. He was given the choice of imprisonment or a
thrashing. He took the thrashing and was mortified that his wife and two sons
had to watch. That was ten years ago. Sons have left home now but wifee has lost
none of her charms. "She continues to live with him but is a wife in name only,"
Squire said, "We may be able to have a little fun with her too."

I went back to Squire Pemberton that evening and he had both James Bell and his
wife Laura there. His men had brought them to the manor after the shop had
closed. James was stripped and tied to an upright whipping frame. I noticed a
few stripes across his back when I arrived. Laura sat impassively in a chair
watching. "Ah Josiah," Squire greeted me when I arrived, "Glad you could come.
We're just about to find out how much Bell has stolen from the workhouse. Aren't
we Bell?"

"I've not stolen anything," Bell yelled, "It was Clara Vince, the cook."

"And you had nothing to do with it?" Squire asked.

"No. Nothing."

"CRAAACKK!!" Squire brought a many-stranded whip down hard across the front of
Bell's thighs. His prick, which had been half erect from us looking at him, took
the full force of the blow and before he had hardly time to yell, there was
another "CRAAACKK!!" Squire had given him another cut with the whip to the same
area but this one came in an upward movement and caught the underside of the
man's cock and balls and flung them back against his stomach. Vivid welts
appeared across his thighs and droplets of blood ran down. We had to wait for
some minutes until the man calmed down sufficiently to make our voices heard
above his din. "Now tell us the truth," Squire demanded. Bell babbled for a
while but after receiving a cut with the whip across his arse, he began to
confess and we teased the whole story from him.

"Squire, please ask him how often he put his cock into that Clara woman?" Laura
spoke for the first time. We heard he poked Clara as often as they were able to
get together. "Whip his balls off for me," Laura spat the words with hatred and
venom.

"Not yet, Laura. We must find out exactly how much he has defrauded us and then
exact payment from him and Clara." Turning to me he said, "I will send
Robertson, my accounts man in tomorrow to look through his ledgers."

We arranged for Laura to look after the shop till the end of the week and on
Saturday evening I would bring Clara to the Hall and we would decide what to do
with both of them. Later while supping ale I asked Squire why he hadn't
questioned Laura. "I'm sure she has nothing to do with the shop nowadays and is
hardly on speaking terms with her husband. She's still damned attractive though
and I think we may well be able to get our cocks into her cunnie without
problems if we play our cards right. We also need to keep the shop in the
village. Closing it would mean hardship for many Pennydelset inhabitants and
could cause unrest that might be difficult to deal with. I could tell the squire
was a cunning man.'

"Time to make some lunch," Jeremy called and then came in to see what she had on
the screen. Margaret gently tucked her tits back into her blouse and made for
the kitchen.



Chapter 9. Boys games

"Penny for them Margaret."

She had sat with her tea in her hands for some minutes without speaking.
"Jeremy? Have you ever seen a man get his cock whipped? I've been whipped
between my thighs and it is extremely painful. Is it the same for a man?"

"You wonder about James Bell?" Margaret nodded. "Of course whipping a cock is
painful like it is anywhere on sensitive bare flesh but if it is only the cock
that is hit, a man can take quite a few strokes but if his balls catch the
switch, he will be nearly sick with pain. It also depends on the instrument used
and the force applied. A light belting can be stimulating, cuts with the whip
could render the cock incapable of erection for some time."

"You ever had your cock caned?"

"Not since I was a young boy. A group of us used to wank ourselves in a barn on
a farm where one of them lived. It wasn't really a homosexual thing, more
experimenting with sex. We'd have little competitions to see who could come
first or shoot the furthest. A macho thing. Who was the toughest and could take
most strokes of the belt across their arse or, occasionally, across the cock.
We'd also have competitions to see who could hold the most weight on their
cock."

"What did you do? Tie things to each other's cocks?"

"No. The barn had an old pair of scales for weighing corn and stuff. It was the
type that had a bar and a hook on which the weights were hung for the pounds and
a slider for ounces. We used to take the hook and hang it on the cock just
behind the head. We put on weights until the cook dipped enough for the hook to
slide off." Jeremy paused and smiled remembering. "I even tried to develop my
cock muscles to win that competition but I never did."

"How on earth did you try and develop them?"

"Every night before bed I would get myself hard and then try and force my cock
down and hold it down. I really don't know if it did any good. Clive always won.
His cock was fatter but not as long as mine. I tried to argue that it was all to
do with leverage but it made no difference. Only when one of the farm workers
caught us did I see a cock take more. The lad was about nineteen at the time and
had a massive weapon or so it seemed to us. He whipped it out, gave it a few
rubs and then hung several pounds on it."

"How many strokes of the belt did you take?" Margaret seemed unusually
interested in getting back to her original question.

"Eight was my best but one boy took fourteen. We had rules of sorts to try and
keep things fair. Each boy had to start with a hard-on. You must remember we
were only boys thirteen or fourteen years old and our cocks were much smaller.
He then knelt down and rested his cock flat on a full sack of corn that made a
sort of firm pillow under it. His hands would then be pinned behind his back by
another boy or boys. There would be a designated 'whipper' for that day and he
would have to try and hit the cock with the last few inches of the belt. He
would lay on four strokes and then ask if the victim wanted another four.
Usually after the first four, any erection would have gone down and the cock
could be rolled over on the sack so the underside could be hit too. After each
four the boy could opt to continue of stop. After a dozen the belt was given in
batches of two. We all tried to be macho and take as many as we could although I
am not sure many enjoyed it at the time. Later when the main pain subsided and
there was only soreness left we tended to get enormous erections and had to wank
several times. A year or two later I did something similar with another boy I
went on a sailing holiday with but that was for different reasons."

"I suppose having a sore prick is like how my tits are now. Tender enough to
feel every movement but not unduly sore. I feel them all the time and it makes
me horny," giggled Margaret. Jeremy went behind her and fished her breasts from
her blouse again and started to knead them. She felt his hard cock at her back,
reached round and gripped it in her fist. Without further ado Jeremy bent her
over the table and took her doggie fashion.

"Now look what you have done woman!" Jeremy complained with a grin, "You've let
the tea get cold. Make another pot before I take the strap to you."

Margaret knew he was joking but replied, "As you wish Sir."

When they were again seated with fresh mugs of tea, Jeremy went on. "I did see
our cock punishment competition taken a lot further while at officer training.
Two cadets had a heated argument over some girl and started bragging how tough
each was, who could take the most punishment and who was best equipped to
service the girl. The argument went on for most of the evening getting more and
more heated and the claims of their prowess getting more exaggerated all the
time. I remembered and suggested a cock caning test of strength to determine who
was the hard man and whose cock was really the toughest."

"The idea caught on with the rest of the cadets in the barrack room who also
wanted a means of shutting these two braggarts up. Both were big tough fellas
and it was decided to use a riding crop that we had for cavalry training. They
stripped off and put their cocks flat on opposite corners of a tabletop. We
passed a belt around their thighs and the table leg so they couldn't pull away
from the table and tied their hands behind their backs. As their pricks were at
an angle to both the end and side of the table it fully exposed them for the
punishment from two directions. Both cocks were roughly the same size at about
seven inches and at this stage they were fairly hard. A 'whipper' was agreed on
and he had to start from the base of the shaft and work along the topside to the
head. If they took that much, the cock would be turned and the process repeated
on the underside. One stroke to be given to each in turn. They would be allowed
to cry out but if they yelled "Pax" it would be the end of the competition
provided the opponent took one more."

"The whipper had no love for the two either and really laid the crop on hard.
Our crop didn't have the little flap at the end that you often see the girls
from riding stables use, it just tapered off to pencil thickness. This thin
whippy end would bite into flesh and cause tremendous pain. Our instructors
cautioned its use on horses. Neither of the men could stand more than the first
two cuts without yelling. We all stood round, fascinated by the sight of the red
lines that appeared across the root end of the two cocks. Soon both the toughies
were yelling each time but neither would give in. We watched as the cocks turned
red and started to swell but not with heat of sex. Both men yelled when their
cocks were turned on the hard table but they each took four more before one gave
in and the winner took his extra one. Neither man dared to hold his cock to pee.
A few days later when I saw the loser in the showers, his cock was still
colourfully bruised and tender. I'm certain he was in a great deal of pain when
his trousers rubbed while riding his horse."

"How many were there in your barrack room watching this?" Margaret asked,
"Surely there were some that would have pity on the men and would have tried to
stop it?"

"There were twenty of us and if anyone had objected they would have quickly been
silenced. The vast majority, like me had hard-ons I'm sure and we'd heard enough
from the two so it was a change and a pleasure to hear them screaming instead of
boasting. News of the caning must have got to the ears of the NCO's and while
nothing was said directly, the following Saturday we were all confined to
barracks for a bull night. Army slang for a bullshit night. A night for cleaning
and polishing everything inside our hut. After doing his inspection, the
sergeant ordered us to stand for a FFI inspection. This meant we had to stand to
attention naked and he would come around and lift our cocks with his baton
supposedly looking to see if we were free from infection which is where the
letters FFI come from. If it had been a proper FFI there would have been a
medical orderly with him. He got to the winner and the man winced when the baton
none too gently lifted his blue bruised cock but wouldn't say what happened when
the sergeant suggested, "You look as if you might be getting a dose of the clap
or something. Where you been putting this thing?" The same thing when he came to
the loser. When he came to a very timid cadet, he asked if he would like a blue
cock as well and then asked him what happened. It only took a little grilling
and some threats for him to spill the beans. To our surprise the Sarg. just
said, "Make sure the curtains are closed next time so recruits in the next
billet don't look in." Then he walked off."

"How many did the winner take?" asked Margaret

"Nineteen." After a short pause Jeremy went on, "Now you had better get back to
work and don't forget to start dinner today."

"Sex and your stomach's. That's all you men think about," laughed Margaret.
Despite her punishments, she liked this man. Yes he spanked and caned her but
less than her father and he made sex enjoyable. She didn't feel as if she was
constantly being raped. She was also being paid to be with him, albeit not very
much. They had finally agreed she would be there as self employed at £100 per
week. From that he would deduct £20 towards the cost of the clothing she had
bought but he would pay her insurance stamp, feed and provide her working gear.
Each Friday he gave her a cheque, which they deposited in her own bank account.
It wasn't much but it was hers and she had a roof over her head, a bed to sleep
in and a cock to satisfy her desires.



Chapter 10. Fraudsters punished

March 27th 1831

'Saturday evening came and I cancelled the session at the workhouse although of
course, those deserving punishment received their due. I held the session during
the afternoon with only a few guests looking on. Instead I took the cart with
Clara to the manor. I'd kept her confined in the one room and had Jack take her
meals and empty her slops. He also put her to his cock whenever he felt like it.
She was understandably frightened and sat shivering and sobbing in the cart
during our journey. I guess she understood that after that night she probably
wouldn't have anywhere to live. I had given three of the other ladies each
three-day trials for the post of cook. Henrietta had done her three days quite
satisfactorily cooking-wise but had difficulty with the accounts. Alice was on
her first day and had produced a couple of good meals but I didn't make up my
mind to appoint her till later the following week. She was the only one of the
three that could add up the figures correctly.

Higgins and another male servant took Clara when we arrived at Grange Manor and
I spent a pleasant hour with the other guests, supping ale and smoking our clay
pipes until Higgins came in and spoke with the squire. We all trouped down to
the punishment room and were greeted by the sight of Bell and Clara hanging
naked and back to back from the ceiling beam. Shortly after Laura, Bell's wife,
who stood and looked with some disgust on the two, joined us. Three other
ladies, who were wives or friends of other guests, had expressed a desire to see
the thrashing and stood together close to the miscreants. They were openly
appraising the bodily organs of the pair.  Squire took Laura and myself into a
corner. "Laura you still want to be rid of your husband and want be in full
charge of the shop?" Squire asked.

"Yes, definitely," she replied, "Especially as over the last few days the
takings have gone up even though we've had about the same number of customers. I
guess that crook was creaming off some of the money there too."

"And you know the compensation we will want from you for arranging this and to
make up for the losses caused to the workhouse and others?"

"I am to make myself available to you both when required," she answered very
quietly.

"You willingly agree to this?" Laura nodded.

We returned to the group looking at the hanging pair. Higgins entered bare
chested and wearing a hood. To one side stood a large barrel containing a good
number of birch rods. In this part of the country, they are not birch branches
but willow osiers which grow profusely along the river and on the flood plain.
Still everyone calls them birches. They seem equally as effective and last well.

Squire turned to us, "Gentlemen and ladies, you are here to witness the
punishment of these two scoundrels on two counts. Both have admitted to have
stolen money, charity money at that, and committed adultery. I have asked Laura
Bell, the aggrieved wife if she wishes to forgive his sin and take him back into
her care but she has declined. I ask her again in front of you all, Mrs. Bell,
do you wish this pair punished for their adultery?"

"Yes," Laura replied loudly, "To the full extent you are able."

"James Bell and Clara Vince, you are sentenced to be thoroughly birched and
dismissed from this parish," intoned Squire. I had the thought that he should
have donned a black hat. Higgins shook a birch to remove some of the vinegar
solution they were steeped in and stepping to one side of Bell, laid the first
stroke high across his chest. I couldn't see the marks it made as I stood in
front of Clara but Bell cried out hoarsely. When Higgins moved around to Clara's
side, she begged and pleaded for him not to do it but, as I found out later,
Higgins very much enjoyed his role and totally ignored her begging. Her first
stroke went across her chest too, just above her breasts and left a series of
red welts. Bell received his next, which must have caught his nipples as he
yelled at the top of his voice. Clara's next was across the top of her breasts
just missing the teats. The force of the blow flattened them to her chest and I
thought she would pass out but she didn't. In strict order, Higgins worked down
the body of each. He did seem to hit Clara especially hard on her bosoms,
flattening them three times and causing her extreme pain. His punishment tended
to ease as he hit  across the stomach until he reached the crotch and then the
birch again sang very loudly. Both scoundrels had to be revived at that point by
having water thrown over them. Finally the birch reached their knees and Higgins
went to put the birch back in the tub.

"Wait Higgings," yelled the Reverend Jenkins. I hadn't seen him arrive. "Make
sure those adulterous areas between their thighs are well attended to. That is
one of the reasons they are here." Higgins cracked two upper cuts between their
spread legs alternately from each side. Each stroke caught both of them as the
supple canes bent around and bit hard into both sets of genitals. Both now
screamed hoarsely before they slumped into a faint and needed more water to
revive them.

We had a break there while the maids supplied more ale and wine the two were
brought to full consciousness again. Under Higgins direction, they were fastened
back to the beam, this time face to face, sore chest to sore chest. Bell's
flaccid cock lying against her tender pubic mound. I had a fierce erection and
was gratified when one of the maids asked if I needed relief. When I indicated I
did, she took me in her mouth and soon extracted my seed. Afterwards she moved
to one of the other guests and did the same thing. I saw the Reverend being
attended to as well and was obviously enjoying it. I guessed I would have an
ally if Miss Harrington did decide to complain to him. During this wine break we
discussed the thrashing as far as it had gone and took wagers on the
possibilities of them staying awake for the full thrashing.

Presently Squire tapped his glass, called for order and instructed Higgins to
resume his work. This time it was from the back of the knees upwards. It was
perhaps an anticlimax after the frontal thrashing but it was good to see the two
writhing against each other in their agony. Finally, again at the Reverend's
behest, Higgins laid the final two strokes up between their legs, which left
them hanging almost lifeless. They were taken down and again revived. Squire
ended the evening's event by admonishing them for their misdeeds and with great
generosity said, "I will not send you on your way on the Sabbath but on Monday
you will be taken by cart to the parish boundary. As a gesture of goodwill on my
part, I will give each of you a shilling so you are not destitute and as a token
payment for your part in this evening's entertainment. Go forth from our parish
and never return."

Turning, he invited us to the drawing room for wine. I spoke with one of the
ladies who had witnessed the event. She looked very flushed and I guessed she
was wet between her legs. When I asked if she enjoyed the show she replied, "Oh,
yes, I think they both ought to be given the same again next week and then taken
to Mission Hut on the quay for the pleasure of the sailors after their long
voyages." Yet another example of the cruelty of women. Shortly after her husband
took her upstairs.

I noticed the squire did not arrive in the drawing room until some twenty
minutes later and then he came to me, "She's in the Maple Room Josiah, ready and
waiting. Seems she hasn't had a cock for some time and is ready for plenty."
Laura was lying naked on the bed in the Maple Room when I entered. It didn't
take but a moment for me to remove my breeches and enter her. She was already
well lubricated from the squire's reaming and I guess from the stimulation of
watching the thrashing of her husband and Clara. Having already spent a copious
amount of my seed into the maid's mouth a little earlier, I took my time with
Laura. "Oooh," she cried, "You're bigger than Squire." This pleased me although,
having frequently seen the squire in action, I already knew I had the edge on
him in the cock department. Laura humped back vigorously and I had a most
enjoyable fuck. I asked her how she felt when her husband was being beaten.
"Relieved and pleased," she replied, "Relieved because I will no longer be just
a thing to get his meals. Pleased to see him getting his just desserts. He
hasn't slept in my bed for some years but I know he has been in more than
Clara's hole. It would have pleased me even more if they had cut his cock off
and stuffed it inside that woman and sealed it there." I played with her titties
for while and then her hand found my cock and brought it back to hardness and I
took her once more.

I returned to the drawing room soon after. There was much sport going on with
the maids servicing the guests apparently with relish although I guessed many
were only doing it because of the squire's orders. Victoria was bent over a
chair with her skirts pulled right up and Ralph Stevens who owns a farm just
outside the village was reaming her. The stripes she had received on the day of
my first visit were still visible although I don't think they caused her any
real hardship now. She was thrusting well back on to the cock that was inside
her. I watched the gathering for a while and especially noted the parson's
performance. He seemed to pay no heed to his own preaching about illicit
fornication. However, having spent myself three times already, I took my leave
and journeyed home, musing all the way on the happenings that had occurred.'

"I'd better stop there," Margaret muttered to herself. She corrected the text
and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Later sitting by the fire she asked
Jeremy, "Do willow osiers still grow in these parts? By the river and on the
flood plain, wherever that is?"

"There's still some willows by the river and even at the end of our garden but
they haven't been pruned for many years so there wouldn't be much of a crop of
osiers for basket making. Much of the flood plain has been built on which is why
that new estate was flooded when the bund broke about three years ago. Why do
you want to know?" It seemed a strange question to Jeremy.

Margaret told him and Jeremy suggested when the weather was good enough they
went and looked at their willows and perhaps prune them back to get a supply for
later in the year. "I wasn't asking to find out in a practical way," she cried.
"You've enough painful things in your collection as it is! I just wanted to see
what a willow birch would look like."



Chapter 11. Saturday

March 29th 1831

'Over the next fortnight my efforts to get the workhouse into shape were
producing good results. The place was looking much cleaner as were the women.
Alice was now cook but she still slept in my bed most nights, even when I had
Martha there too. It is one of my pleasures in life to sleep between two naked
young ladies. Feeling that it was my duty, I did put my cock into every one of
the women, including the oldest, which didn't give me much pleasure. Jack didn't
seem to mind though so I allowed him to roger any of the over forties anytime he
wished and some of the others when he requested. Alice and Martha I kept for my
personal use. I didn't wish their holes to become loose from his rather large
weapon.

The meals had improved considerably and the women were looking much better. Now
their ribs barely showed beneath their titties. I think they appreciated my
strictness over the food and cleanliness but perhaps not so much my strictness
over what they were supposed to do. I insisted that as I fed them well, they had
to work well.

On the second Saturday evening, I fully implemented my punishment system. At
that time I only had a cut down table for fastening each miscreant to but it
served well enough. There were five names on the punishment board. Miss
Harrington who had yet to curb her sharp tongue had five chalk marks, Mrs.
Warboys three, Henrietta a pleasant enough woman in her mid thirties and Mary a
somewhat older woman both had two and I had given Martha one for knocking over
the piss pot when she got up one morning. All five were made to remove all their
clothing and stand along the end wall of the room I had now designated the
punishment room. It was very chilly in there and all seemed to shiver as much
from fear as from the cold, I suspected. Miss Harrington again protested so I
added another two marks against her name. Perhaps she will learn one of these
days. The remaining women stood by the sidewall where they would be able to see
the punishments.

Having given them a little speech on their behaviour I went on, "You are each to
receive two strokes of the birch for every chalk mark. When ordered to do so you
will lie face down on the table, spread your legs wide. If you have three chalk
marks or less you will hold the front legs tightly until the end of your
punishment. If we have to strap you down, it will incur another two marks. For
four or more marks you will be strapped tightly to the table." I made sure they
understood as it was the first time we'd had this punishment session although of
course they remembered how some had been punished when I arrived and had seen
the punishments on the previous Saturday afternoon although I had been somewhat
more lenient then.

I thought Miss Harrington was going to protest once more when I called her up
but she wisely for once, held her tongue. Jack fastened her down and made sure
her woman's opening was well displayed. From the vinegar pot I took one of the
new birches I'd had made, and laid it well and truly across that bitter old
woman's arse. She screamed and pleaded but I carried on laying it across her
wizened bottom flesh and thighs. The fresh stripes soon covered the fading ones
from my first attention to that area. Her screams and cries were quite pitiful
but I ignored them. I offered Jack her cunnie but he declined knowing there was
younger and more attractive dishes to come. He led her sobbing back to the wall
and gave her a stool so she could stand with something to hold on to.

Mrs. Warboys, I have just started to call her Hilda, was next. She yelled at
each stroke but managed to keep hold of the table legs. Jack again declined to
poke her. Mary took hers well enough but she only had four strokes as did
Henrietta. It was her that Jack decided he'd bury his cock in. He'd been in her
quite a few times since my arrival so she took it easily and indeed seemed to
enjoy the experience.

I took my time preparing Martha and made sure she was well exposed even for only
two strokes of the birch. Her young and tender bum would no doubt take the birch
well especially since she had told me the orphanage was very strict with the
boys and girls there and she had not infrequently received the strap and cane.
Consequently I laid the two strokes on good and hard, as I didn't want the
others to think I was being lenient with her for sleeping in my bed. She yelped
a bit but held on to the legs. In front of everyone, I produced my cock and
rogered her hard. She was wet already and later she told me she was wet from
watching the birching of the others. When I was finished I asked Alice to clean
my cock which she did although her mouth had been around it many times now, she
still blushed a little at having to do it in front of the others.

Before concluding the punishment session, I made another little speech. "Ladies,
in future these punishment sessions will be held in front of guests who will pay
to watch and if they so wish, you will be rogered by them afterwards. Those of
you not undergoing punishments will be expected to allow the gentlemen full
access to your bodies and you will accommodate any requests they make. It is
essential that you provide a good service to them. Any complaints will either be
dealt with immediately or at the following week's punishment session. I must
emphasise that to help the financial well being of this workhouse and to keep us
in Squire's good graces, you must appear willing to do whatever is asked of you.
Since I arrived I know your cunnies have been attended to but you must also be
prepared to offer your bottom holes and your mouths to their cocks as well. I
will ask Jack to ream the arseholes of all the older women here at least once in
the coming week so you will know what to expect. I have already opened up our
three younger maids." Several women looked shocked at this but perhaps because
the two old maids were still groaning a crying from their birching, none said
anything.'

"I don't think the cut off table exists anymore," Margaret muttered to herself
when read over the text, "They probably replaced it with the low oak bench with
the leather straps that is still in the room."

'Monday midday, I saw Jack half carrying a struggling Hilda Warboys into the
punishment room. I had not allowed him to do more than give the women a sound
hand spanking so followed him in. He greeted me with, "She don't want 'er 'ole
opened." Deftly he fastened her arms and legs to the table and lifted her
skirts. Her bum showed the fierce red stripes I had laid down and these I knew
were still very sore. Jack didn't waste any time but started spanking her hard
until her bottom, still sore from the birching, was very red indeed. Jack is a
strong man and a hand spanking from him might well be a good as a strapping from
me. Hilda was again crying and pleading for him to stop but he kept on until he
thought she'd had enough. I liked the way that once Jack took to a task, he kept
on at it until he deemed it complete. Immediately he pulled out his hard cock,
forced her tender cheeks apart with his hands and tried to push his cock into
her bum hole. Although he pushed hard it didn't want to enter.

"Wait a moment Jack," I said and went to fetch some dripping from the kitchen.
Several women were standing around trying to look busy but I knew they were
listening to hear what was happening in the punishment room. I bade them go in
and watch. Mary was one of them and I ordered her to coat Jack's prick with the
dripping and put some in Hilda's hole, which she did. "Help Jack put it in," I
ordered and she aligned his prick with the hole when he pushed. This time it did
enter and ignoring her yelling, Jack fucked her hard until he spent. For some
minutes he left his prick in her 'to help stretch 'er muscles,' as he put it and
then went to her mouth and ordered her to clean him. Knowing she had no choice,
this she did, albeit reluctantly.

This didn't satisfy me as on Saturday she would need to perform much more
willingly. I asked Jack if he would mind rogering her arse once every day and
make her clean him properly each time. Of course he agreed readily. We released
Hilda from the table and I bade the others to return to their work.'

Margaret screwed her eyes and stretched after she had read and corrected the
story. "This place was more like a brothel," she thought, "I'd heard they
punished people severely in those days but never thought about how severe it was
or how they were made to prostitute themselves so. I'm pretty certain this story
isn't fiction."

*****

"I've had the heater on in the punishment room for an hour now so it's warm
enough for you to try out some of the equipment."

"Is that an order Colonel?" Margaret questioned sensing he was in his 'military
mode'.

"Yes, if that's the way you want it. I thought you might have wished to feel
what some of the equipment they used long ago felt like." Jeremy replied.

"Maybe but I am not so sure as to what you might do when I am strapped down and
helpless and, as you saw this morning, I've just started my period and am
flowing heavily."

"You've had periods twelve or thirteen times a year for twenty or twenty-five
years. I don't expect your father stopped screwing you for three days each month
did he?"

"No." Margaret admitted. "When I was a teenager he seemed to delight when I
started bleeding and often would wipe his cock and balls with my soiled towel
before screwing me. Afterwards I would have to clean him as usual. I refused
once and then he gagged me with the towel and then while it was still in my
mouth, he wetted it with his piss. That wasn't the end of it either. I was still
flowing heavily so he sat me over his cock while he watched TV for the evening
and then I had to tongue clean his cock again. Afterwards I got a dose of the
strap on my cunt so I never refused again."

"I thought he might have used your arsehole during your periods."

"He did. Sometimes alternating from one to the other. I hated my period times
but he seemed to delight in them."

"Well I've done both to women at menses time so I'm not putting it off now. It's
a Saturday so time for some appropriate entertainment."

"You wouldn't want to get the equipment stained though would you? Not now you've
got it all nice and clean and the new straps and all."

"Don't argue. Get yourself into the punishment room miss and strip off." Jeremy
in his military mode expected to be obeyed without hesitation. Margaret did so.
Jeremy led her to the trestle with the wooden inverted Vee bar and made her lie
along it. The apex had been rounded off so it was about an inch across. Even so
it still pressed hard into the cleavage between her breasts and into her slit.
It wasn't too bad at the moment but she knew the pain would increase with time.
It increased too when he tightened the straps around her wrists and ankles and
then the one around her body.

"My God, that hurts Jeremy. Ease the straps a bit. Jeremy! ..." But Jeremy had
left the room. Margaret tried to move to ease the pressure a little but to no
avail. She screamed to be released but it was long minutes before Jeremy
re-entered the room, this time carrying a bundle of willow osiers roughly and
hastily bound at one end. He placed it at the side where she could see the
freshly cut rods, glistening and wet. While Margaret pleaded Jeremy felt along
her body. He squeezed her tits to the rail and fingered her arsehole.

"Can you begin to feel what it was like to be helpless and in pain and awaiting
further pain, Margaret?" She only pleaded and cursed. Jeremy turned all the
lights out except one, which made the room seem extremely gloomy. "Just imagine
yourself surrounded by men and perhaps some women, wanting to see you subjected
to terrible pain. Men who you knew would ravage you afterwards without any
thought for your pain, only their pleasure. Imagine it Margaret. See them in
your mind, illuminated by the smoky, flickering light of oil lamps and candles.
Vague shapes in the near darkness. See this birch I made. Twigs are still wet
from the rain. It's not very neat I know but I only just went down the garden to
cut the osiers. Six of them Margaret. Six lines of fire across your arse with
each stroke. Imagine it Margaret. Imagine the audience of men and women, some of
the women are strangers, others are your fellow inmates. The strangers are
urging me to hit harder and harder. To go on and on and on. Till your arse is
one bleeding blister. Margaret Smith you have three chalk marks against your
name, you know how many strokes that is?"

"Six." Margaret was sobbing hysterically now. "Has something snapped in Jeremy's
mind? Will he flog me like he is saying until I cannot move and pass out? Has he
lost control of himself? Oh my God, how did I get into this mess?" She cried,
pleaded, cajoled to no avail. "Let me go, Let me go. Jeremy, don't do this. Just
let me go. I will get out of your life. I won't say anything." It was as if
Jeremy was deaf.

Jeremy picked up the rod. "Yes, six hard strokes of the birch. Six canes hitting
your arse at once. Leaving lived welts. Livid painful welts that will show for a
long while. Can you hear the other women waiting by the wall crying? Can you
hear the men cheering, Margaret? Can you hear them shouting, 'Thrash her, thrash
her, thrash her?' I can. They want blood. I can give them that with just this
supple bundle of twigs. Are you ready for a flogging Margaret?"

"No, Jeremy, NO! Please don't do it. Release me. Please I beg you, release me."

"Not until you've had a thrashing, Margaret dear. Ready now? Here it comes."
Jeremy brought the birch smartly across both bum cheeks but didn't use his full
force. Nevertheless Margaret screamed. She was sure she was cut and bleeding.
"Hear the cheers, Margaret?" They want more. I will give it to them." The birch
came down again adding more stripes and raising narrow welts. Margaret was
almost beyond screaming. She was certain now she was living with a madman. Six
times the birch landed, the last harder than the rest. Believing beyond any
doubt she was cut and bleeding, Margaret continued to beg for release.

"Are you ready for the raping now Margaret? There's a whole queue of men waiting
to get their cocks into your tender cunt and whipped arse. We'll just have to
lift you a little first." Jeremy undid the ankle and body straps and placed a
shaped padded hide bolster under her stomach. "I wondered what this was for but
now I think I have the answer. The Vee shape underneath is intended to fit over
the bar and the saddle is to fit the stomach to lift it and make your cunt and
arse more accessible." He slid the bolster along until it raised her to the
right height for him to enter his prick and then strapped her ankles again.

"Please no, Jeremy. Colonel!" She hoped using his rank might bring him out of
his sadistic mood, "Colonel please stop. I'm too hurt. I'm bleeding. You're an
officer. Don't do it."

Jeremy thought, "Yes you are bleeding but only from your cunt. Not from the
birch although it may seem like it." Aloud he went on, "Here's the first rapist
Margaret. Just a moment while I collect his money then you'll feel his cock
force its way inside you." Moments later he plunged his cock in and fucked her
for a few moments, then withdrew, moved away and came back. "Rapist number two,"
he growled and started fucking her again. Once again he withdrew without
spurting his seed. Acting as the third rapist he pushed his cock into her
arsehole, causing a further scream from Margaret. This time it didn't take many
thrusts before he shot his load into her bowels. "Anyone else want to pay a
shilling for her?" Jeremy called to his imaginary audience. "No? Come on
Gentlemen, get those cocks out and into this lovely tender cunt and arse. Feel
the warmth coming from her well-thrashed backside. Still no takers? Perhaps
you're holding back waiting for some of the other beauties waiting to be
tenderly warmed up."

As soon as Jeremy released her, Margaret's hands flew to her buttocks. She was
surprised to find they were not covered with blood. He helped her to the
bathroom so she could see the stripes but they weren't as deep or a red as she
had anticipated. She'd had far worse canings. Slowly she began to realise, the
word pictures that Jeremy had painted had made her believe she was to be beaten
until she almost bled to death. "You bastard!" she muttered at him, part in
anger part in relief. "You bastard. I thought you had lost control and were
flogging me to death."

"I wanted you to try and feel what the women, and men too, in the early eighteen
hundreds must have felt when they were ordered to be punished. It must have been
a terrifying experience. You can now feel the thoughts that must have gone
through Clara and Bell's minds when they were hung for flogging with much
greater clarity. Am I right Margaret?"

"Yes, damn you. I can feel for them only too well, you bastard. I don't think I
have ever been so scared."



Continued in Bag Lady 2.