MarQe 's Study

The yellow gaslight illuminated the polished brass handle of the heavy door that was before her. Her knock upon the oak board, though a most deliberately timid knock, was to her regret heard by her Uncle, who in a firm voice bade her enter.

Her Uncle’s study was a place of order and function. Heavy and often consulted tombs were restrained in fluted shelves which covered most of the surfaces except that occupied by the large fireplace. The hissing, globed gaslights upon the walls warmed the room with their yellow light and a coal oil lamp of complex design placed upon the working surface, lit both her Uncle and his papers. Sarah Jane walked forward and positioned herself quite centrally before his large partners desk. The lean, cold man did not look up but instead, with studious attention, continued to write; inkwell to paper, back and forth, her eyes followed the moving hand, finding its rhythm quite hypnotic. Slowly the beat of the regulator clock intruded into the silence to join the scratch of the pen and she turn her head to become now absorbed by the regular flick of the seconds hand as it passed the time.

She was jerked back to attention from a temporary mesmeric state by her Uncle’s voice. It was obvious to him that she had entirely missed his opening words; so, slightly more laboured and certainly louder he repeated himself.

“This will not do, this will not do young lady; not do at all.” As he said this he blotted his last writing with studied care and placed the pen in a rack.

“Dear, dear.” At the second ‘dear’ the silver lid of the inkwell snapped down with a practised flick of his finger, as it were to deliberately add punctuation.

Sarah Jane, sensing more from the tone than the words placed her hands behind her back and bowed her head submissively, which caused her curled ringlets of rich brown hair to charmingly hang forward. She dared not catch his eyes even though they were most consciously upon her.

“ Miss Meltrose… a most diligent woman, a woman who has had the misfortune to have been your governess for many years, has... yet again, had cause to bring her concerns about your attitude and behaviour to my attention. This fine teacher who has had the thankless task of providing your education and guiding your moral development, regrettably it seems, has reached the end of her quite extraordinary patience.”

Her Uncle paused to attempt to re-arrange his sheets more neatly than they already were. He guided his hands down each side of the sheets as though to square them, repeating the useless action a number of times.

“It appears, so I have been told and indeed seen with my own eyes the very evidence of injury, that you bit the arm of Miss Meltrose; bit it… young lady.” he waved a hand.

“Laid your teeth upon the very person of your esteemed Governess while she attempted to provide some most necessary and rightful discipline. In all my time as your Guardian, is this how you repay my generosity and devoted efforts to perform my duty in the matter of your guidance and upbringing? Is this how, young Miss?” His voice rose at the repeat of the question and Sarah Jane was drawn to look up and foolishly catch his eye.

“There” he said, with almost triumph. “Such a wilful look, such a flash of insolence, I am bemused that there should be such a wicked will in any girl and, God forbid, in a person of my blood and my dear Brother’s blood. Where have we all failed and gone astray to find this contradiction of fine breeding before me?”

She was well aware that he was rapidly developing his most coldly controlled temper. For she had seen this progress many times before, stood as she was now, before this very desk as so many times before, listening as he now explained again her short comings in ever more expressive detail. She equally new the eventual outcome of such a tirade, so to make a limit upon the damage already done she kept her head bowed and strove hard for an appearance at least of abject contrition.

Her Uncle, never to be cheated of his moment, droned on, expanding, sometimes even with theatrical eloquence, the litany of the faults of Sarah Jane. At one moment there was justifiable anger, the next the long sighs of exasperation, even capitulation, as though no solution would ever come to his much-troubled mind. At last she heard him say the long awaited but disturbing words...

“There is no solution other than to ring for Mrs. Wixon, no solution my girl, none indeed but Mrs. Wixon.” he said this as though Mrs. Wixon was some panacea for all his ills, to be delivered like a medicinal draught.

Mrs. Wixon though was as far from a healing draught as one could get; for she was as cold a body as Sarah Jane's Uncle, each for this reason alone, quite suited to the temperament of the other. As housekeeper to her Uncle, the other servants and even the governess Miss Meltrose, were fearful of this tall gaunt lady who found fault with most things and threatened dismissal often. It was known that in her private realm below stairs, she soundly whipped and birched the young maids, who accepted such practice rather than face the alternative of the street with no reference. Not only was Mrs. Wixon keeper of her Uncle’s human property but she was the extension of her Uncle’s will in many divers ways. As far as Sarah Jane was concerned she constantly reported to the Master, the details of every transgression, perceived or real, that the Ward perpetrated within the house and, when her Uncle deemed it necessary for Sarah Jane’s’ punishment, she was his arm in this matter too.

“Go on girl do as you are told, apply yourself to the bell.”

Sarah Jane roused herself from her submissive posture and crossed the room to work the handle by the mantle piece. She was well aware that the bell would find Mrs. Wixon seated in the warmth of the kitchen, she also knew that Mrs. Wixon would of course be waiting for the course jangle of the bell, undoubtedly forewarned that her services would shortly be needed.

“When the good Mrs. Wixon has performed her sorry duties with you.”  Her Uncle explained.

“There will be I hope a reformed young lady, set upon a course of good behaviour; at least that is what I perhaps foolishly expect?”

The knock upon the door and instruction to enter brought the arrival of the housekeeper to the scene. Sarah Jane’s Uncle took it seemed, some deep pleasure in the ritual that was to follow. Uncle and housekeeper, observed the requirements of discussion and explanation as though for each the inevitable end was some new surprise. Yet as Sarah Jane new only too well, the charade was played out as often as twice or more each month and had been since she had been taken in by her kindly Patron some many years ago, upon the untimely death, by fateful accident, of her parents. The only unknown that she had as a surprise would be the severity of her punishment; this was usually arrived at by a means of barter as though her suffering was the price of potatoes in a market.

At last, as some relief from waiting for the poor girl, Mrs. Wixon was asked to bring forth the instrument of instruction from it hiding place lying upon a row of books. Whereas her Governess had relied ineffectually upon a small bundle of twigs tied with blue ribbon, her Uncle had chosen a most serious length of rattan, almost the thickness of a little finger and flexible enough to bent into a circle. Though his choice for his Ward, it was always Mrs. Wixon who applied it, for he it seemed preferred to watch.

“Now Miss. said Mrs. Wixon in a dry voice. “May I ask you to prepare in the usual way for me to undertake the Master’s will?”

Sarah Jane now moved to her task. To one side of the study was an unusual chair, chosen, she was sure, specifically for the needs of her discipline. It was a period chair of a design from an earlier time. A semi-circle of wood, arms and seat all one, set upon stout splayed legs. While the two watched in silence Sarah Jane, with some effort, moved the chair to the centre of the room. Satisfied with its correct positioning, she then without further bidding reached down and gathered up both her dress and petticoats. With a practised movement, she held the clothing up above her waist so exposing her long white cotton knickers that ended with a lace trim at the junction with her laced ankle boots.

How many gentlemen would have paid guinea to see such a sweet mature young maid so revealed, instead it was her Uncle who enjoyed the sight for free? However more revelations to shatter her modesty were still required. Still holding up her cloths, she, with some difficulty, laid herself with her stomach down upon the seat of the chair, this conveniently, pinched the dress and petticoats in their raised place. Sarah Jane now wriggled forward so that her breasts, arms and head were well over the far side of the seat, the high sides, keeping her arms held forward at the shoulder.

At a perfunctory nod from Sarah Jane’s Uncle, Mrs. Wixon now moved to her work. She rested the long cane across the arms of the chair and set about exposing the place of punishment. The knickers, divided as they were into two separate legs, were pulled open at the division and tucked hard at the sides to prevent their closing. The naked, round, full orbs of the girl’s bottom were nicely exposed. Each cheek rose up to catch the light and the deep cleft between was dark and mysterious.

At a barley polite instruction from Mrs. Wixon Sarah Jane, opened her legs wide, balancing upon the toes of her boots to better steady the posture, this, inevitably insuring that her ripe sex, trimmed with dark curls, was now on show, especially to the vantage point of  her Uncle.

“You know not to alter your position and to keep your noises quiet Miss?” explained Mrs. Wixon.

“Or, else I’m sure the Master will be adding further strokes for your disobedience.”

She then turned to him, cane in hand once more. “What, sir, will be your pleasure for the young Miss?”

“Ah my good Mrs. Wixon, there we have the problem. I am as you are most aware, a kind hearted soul when it comes to the matter of such necessary discipline, the root I’m sure of my Niece’s constant, errant behaviour. It was a most serious incident and if I said but a dozen, I’m sure that such a girl, with a bottom so frequently used to the strokes, would indifferently shrug them off and be laughing behind our backs in no time?”

“With respect Sir.” Mrs. Wixon interjected. “A maturing and most firm pair of cheeks, such as the young Miss has and noting their regular acquaintance and experience with this instrument, would hardly discern, as you have wisely observed, its attentions if it be but a dozen.” she paused as if though deliberating intently.

“The incident as you have explained, biting to be sure; needs such a tendency curbing in any girl. More than her normal six, more even than a sterner dozen. May I make so bold as to suggest that as the young Miss has not yet been educated by the rod upon the backs of her thighs that we take this opportunity to instruct her to this common and effective practice. I know from much experience of the delinquency of young girls, that the tenderness of this area breaks a wilful spirit something proper. We could Sir, if I may suggest, let Miss Sarah Jane, taste six upon each thigh and a dozen well placed upon her most challenging firm behind?”

“Where indeed would I be without your common sense and experience Mrs. Wixon.” expressed the Master.

“A bachelor such as I am knows nothing of the punishment of a quite wicked female; I'm sure your long experience of the disciplining of house girls leaves you in good stead. My Niece has certainly fought against the traces of respectable behaviour and if you feel that your prescription is a suitable remedy, then my kindly nature must be overruled by your wise council. Let it be as you say good lady.”

Things now took an unusual turn for Sarah Jane. The suggestion made by the sadistic Mrs. Wixon, had made the girl’s stomach tighten with fear. She had steeled herself for twelve or even eighteen on her experienced behind, such a dose was bad but equally she could pace herself for those strokes, what was mentioned and now to be applied it seemed to her thighs, held the terrors of the unknown.

She therefore slowly responded in something of a trance to the instructions of the housekeeper. First she had to stand again while still holding up her dress, to permit the string at the top of her knickers to be undone and the cotton fabric, briskly pulled down. The gartered stockings were now also pulled into concertinas below the knees. This left her naked from the waist down, her neat triangle of hair crowning her mound above the long white thighs, all clearly on show as further treat before her Uncle.

True embarrassment made her hang her head, yet there was though no time for that display of contrition for she was soon bade again to lay over the chair and part her legs to the maximum that her rolled down knickers allowed. This though was still not enough parting for the meticulous Mrs. Wixon, who knelt down upon the carpet and with some difficulty worked one frilly leg of the draws right over and off the boot. Then with her own hands she spread the girl’s legs indecently wide open.

“Unless you are foolish, you will keep those legs still and where I have put them till the matters over.” Mrs. Wixon calmly pointed out. Sarah Jane knew well what was meant by ‘foolish’.

The gaslights aided by the desk lamp had no trouble now in illuminating the round bottom and the gaping moist sex beneath. As the expanse of pale thighs ran outward from the bottom the skin of their backs tightened as the muscles strove to keep the legs out straight. Mrs. Wixon spent time finding the ideal position. At each adjustment she tapped the last few inches of the cane upon the target area of youthful skin. Her cruelty knew the ideal place, just below the sharp line of the base of the cheeks with the cane well angled so that it would be more upon the inside of the thigh and quite deliberately, frighteningly close to the pouting virgin lips.

Methodically she pulled back her white-cuffed sleeve to the elbow and re-gripped the shaft of the cane. Then, after al the anticipation of the involved preparations, it finally rose up and behind her head, paused, only to descend with a savage whip of the arm. The air whistled with its passage and the rattan was halted, with a cunning back flip of the wrist so producing a sharp crack as it found its tender mark. Sarah Jane’s whole body seemed to shudder in response, a vibration of intense agony gripping it, as a gasping cry broke from her open mouth.

Mrs. Wixon pronounced a simple. “One.” as after a lengthy pause, the arm rose to repeat the strike. Even before the arm had fallen again, the skin of beautiful thigh had risen up in a deep, double tracked, red weal where the fury of the whippy cane had been applied.

The chastisement continued. Each stroke was duly numbered and each stroke caused Sarah Jane to cry out a little and shudder as the dreadful pain vibrated through her every sinew. By four, some strokes had deliberately returned to the exact site of a previous mark and small red beads of blood, squeezing from the tortured flesh, rewarded these cruel returns.

At six there was a pause to allow Mrs. Wixon to move to the other side and address the girl’s unpunished thigh. Sarah Jane was moved, more than once, to plead for a stop to the beating, her voice broken by sobs, tinged now with some genuine contrition. The one watching with voyeuristic intensity and the one performing the act, had though no intention of being moved to mercy and the useless pleas served only to fuel their individual, secret delights.

Even when no stroke was actually applied, Sarah Jane’s body shook and her knees to tremble, due to the effect upon the nerves so close to the skin in that area. The punishment of the other thigh, with some strokes actually moving aside the strands of her intimate hair, so close did they fly near her crutch, was too much it seemed for the Uncle’s Niece. For at last she could no longer support her legs straight out, so at the third on that thigh, she collapsed onto her knees quite distraught. This change from the orthodox posture required for this beating. caused the Housekeeper to pause in her delivery exhibiting much annoyance.

“ You see Sir.” she exclaimed, sounding almost hurt.

“ Even during the most serious moment of her punishment the young Miss cannot display any discipline. When she has composed herself, I suggest we add another six to the dozen for her bottom and more if she should so defy your good self again.”

“You are so correct Mrs. Wixon. Though painful I’m sure, I fear there are histrionics at work here to gain our sympathy and moderate your arm. Get my ward to return to the formal position so the matter of her thighs can be concluded and her most provocative bottom, twisting as it so does, take its now eighteen.”

Sarah Jane’s Uncle seemed by now to have lost his detachment and be instead, quite involved with the bodily movements of his so well exposed Ward.

Mrs. Wixon well used to the games and ploys of the youthful female when caned, placed her mouth close to the ear of the girl and explained most clearly that the tally would continue to rise should she not have her thighs out straight and parted well in a very trice. Sarah Jane, though experiencing pain as she had never known it before, was awake enough to the sincerity of the threats, and therefore with great effort of will, pull herself up and stretch out her legs again to receive the last three dreadful cuts on such a sensitive place. Mrs. Wixon was in no hurry to help the girl past this difficult moment and again went though her own careful positioning, so that when the cane at last came down it was most accurately laid upon the criss-cross of existing lines. The next and the last followed, again drawing a little blood.

Knowing that some tightening of the flesh of the posterior would help to emphasis the sensations, she commanded the girl to now draw her knees up to the chair and push out her bottom. Slowly and painfully this change of posture was achieved there still being much involuntary shaking of the lower half. The bottom so presented, filled and swelled as the naked, unblemished skin tightened. Mrs. Wixon adjusted her stance to a more lateral swing and the rattan fairly wined as it passed through the air to leave the characteristic, beautiful, double tracked line across the centres of the rounded cheeks. Perhaps there was more force or perhaps the girl had been truly broken but this first stroke drew an uncontrolled wail from Sarah Jane.

“ Hush your noise young Miss.” advised the Housekeeper. “A young woman as you are now, shows her breeding and maturity, she holds her tongue when she bends for punishment. More of that and I’m sure that the Master will be adding strokes for the annoyance to his delicate ear by the volume of your silly whines.”

It was though from then on that Mrs. Wixon seemed quite bent upon the challenge of drawing another wilful shrike. The strokes were at her full and not inconsiderable strength. The eighteen worked closely together, concentrating the agony and soon drawing the essential blood, seen always as a testimony of the thoroughness of the application. Though her bottom clenched and opened in an involuntary rhythm, Sarah Jane was used at least to this form of pain of which her sweet behind had so many memories. So it was that only small, restrained gasps and little moans passed her panting lips to signify the contact of each burning cut.

At the end, Mrs. Wixon, ordered her victim to get up and stand before her Uncle. Poor Sarah Jane did this with much difficulty, wedged as she was between the arms of the chair and hampered by the continuing spasms of her freshly abused lower half. When at last she was standing and bemused as she was, Sarah Jane was still very careful to keep her garments up and clear of the streaks of blood, least she should stain her cloths and earn another visit. Her knickers, still hung untidily from one ankle and tears stained her face. Dishevelled and contrite, she was past caring about the nudity of her lower half before her Uncle.

“You have performed your difficult duties with, as always, diligence Mrs. Wixon. I am most grateful. Please return the instrument and leave me with my Niece, for I have matters to instruct her in.”

Mrs. Wixon, produced a small cloth from her pocket and wiped the length of the cane, then to return it to its sinister home upon the book shelf. She rolled back her sleeve and with a polite nod of her head left the room. Sarah Jane, swayed slightly before the desk, her cloths still grimly gathered up. Her Uncle was roused as he had never been before, perhaps for the first time looking upon his Niece as the young woman she really was and not just a naughty girl. He was beyond himself with desire, his member hard within his trousers.

It is therefore quite possible he did submit to his inflamed lusts and indeed penetrate his Niece, having her bend at his desk and perhaps taking her from behind. He was ignorant of the female sex but was aware of the risks of pregnancy and the obvious blood that would indicate the loss of her virginity. He had though learnt this other way at school, tight and pleasurable, one that would safely sate his thirst. The loyal Mrs Wixon, had loitered beyond the closed door and she did it seems, clearly hear the girl produce a different but clear series of cries. The cruel Mrs Wixon would never know. After all the cries may have resulted from the girl being bent over his desk and the Master’s hand performing a detailed and uncomfortable examination of Sarah Jane’s marked bottom. Sadly we will never know for that would be another story…