Odour of Salmon

Grizelda lay on her bed by the open window in full sunlight. She was naked and gently playing with herself. Though warm and damp from the shower, she knew there was no chance of reaching an orgasm in the time before he had to get dressed. But even so she could keep herself pleasantly turned on until her duties finished. In only seven minutes she would be expected in the kitchen to be allocated her task for the afternoon.

She had been in the house just ten days, principally employed to look after the children. The older ones were away at school and at the moment the two youngest were out visiting with their mother. Since they were not due back until after tea, and her contract specified that she must fill in unallocated time with light duties, cook would be expecting her in the kitchen, though occasionally the butler would find something else for her to do. She did not resent this--the staff were always considerate towards her.

Grizelda thought there was probably no real hurry to report to cook, but she had no wish to annoy her. After so short a time she was not sure how much it would matter, but the job was a peach. Though it was her task to look after the children, she could in no way call herself a governess. Her status was far too lowly, though it would improve with time and a little luck. In the meantime she had this light airy attic room, with a delightful view, and no one to overlook her.

Her pay was good, and her clothing and food were adequate. Unfortunately, although the servants' hall meals were plentiful and nutritious, they were deadly dull. Thus she had taken to filching the occasional small delicacy from the pantry when no one was looking. Only this morning, finding a packet of freshly sliced smoked salmon, she had helped herself to a little to bring up to her room instead of attending luncheon, saying she had a headache and would lie down for an hour. It was in any case far too warm a day to eat a heavy meal. After consuming the salmon she had showered and was now lying on her towel, drying in the sun, relishing the delicious aftertaste and gently stroking her pussy. She felt so relaxed there might just be time to bring herself off if she was quick--she was so close and so wet.

The loud knocking startled her and she just had time to whip her hand away before the door burst open and there stood the butler. Grizelda swung her feet to the floor and sat up, her breasts sliding across her tiny chest. She crossed her arms over them.

"I want a word with you, young miss", said the butler.

"Yes, Mr James. What is it?" Grizelda was blushing scarlet and her head was in a whirl. Was this conduct allowed? Surely she was entitled to privacy in her own room.

The butler went on "I have been in this household all my life, and I have seen many servants come and go. Also I have seen every kind of conduct you can imagine. I am well experienced, in fact. You know of course that the master is not well. He doesn't have much appetite, and yesterday his sister sent him a small amount of smoked salmon to tempt his appetite. Cook just went to the pantry to make a light salad with it, and half was gone. Do you know anything about it?"

"N-no, Mr James." Grizelda's throat was dry; her blood seemed to suffuse her whole upper body.

"Interesting. There have been a couple of odd disappearances since you joined us. Would you please stand up and let me smell your fingers?"

Grizelda obeyed and smiled as she held out her hands. Oddly she did not feel embarrassed to be naked in front of this man, who seemed totally uninterested in her lack of clothes. He inhaled deeply over her fingers.

"Well", he said. "If that isn't smoked salmon I don't know what else it could be."

"You can't possibly smell salmon, Mr James. I just showered," said Grizelda, then stopped in horror and hoped she hadn't given herself away.

He stood and looked at her for a while, and then spoke. "You and I both know that you took the salmon. For that you will be punished. You are also lying to me; for that your punishment will be increased unless you confess at once."

Grizelda tried to think rapidly. No one had seen her, she was certain. All they could have was suspicion. If she confirmed that by a confession they could sack her on the spot, and she would have no reference. "I don't know what they think they can do to punish me," she thought, "but at least if I keep quiet I'll still have a job." So she decided to stand firm.

"I'm sorry Mr James, but I really don't know anything about it."

"Very well, we shall take the matter up with Master. Get dressed."

Grizelda's breasts swayed forward as she bent down to step into her panties; the butler watched with no apparent interest. As soon as she was fully dressed he marched her briskly to the master's bedroom. "Nanny stole your smoked salmon, Sir George," he said. "For that she must be spanked of course. She also refuses to admit doing it so a taste of the whip will be in order. Does this meet with your approval, sir?"

"Of course it does. Get on with it."

Mr James sat on a chair facing the bed and told Grizelda to lie across his knees. As she settled she noticed the master sitting up in bed, and he appeared to have shed twenty years. She felt the butler's hands ease her dress up to her waist and sighed with relief as his hard hand made contact with her tight white panties. First because it was not as hard as she had expected, and secondly because she was not to take the punishment on her bare skin.

After about a dozen slaps the butler paused to ease himself into a more comfortable position. Putting his thumb into the waistband of Grizelda's panties, he said "I think these should come down, don't you sir?"

Sir George was not the master of himself that his butler was. There was a catch in his voice as he said "It is essential that they must come down. Naughty girls must always be spanked on their bare bottom."

In one swift movement they were halfway down her thighs. In spite of their covering her cheeks were bright pink from the blows Grizelda had already taken. Now the punishment would begin in earnest. The first blow knocked the wind out of her.

She was amazed at how hard and heavy Mr James's hand had now become; he had never looked strong. By the fifth blow she was squirming and snivelling, her legs kicking wildly and her hand trying to shield her bottom. The sixth blow made her cry out. "Stop that noise," said Sir George.

Mr James's thumb was again in the waistband of her panties, pulling them down past her knees, then unceremoniously off. She could imagine Sir George leaning forward to get a better view of her shame as Mr James stuffed her panties into her mouth, forcing the material roughly past her teeth so she was close to choking. She felt very sick. He took a firm grip of her arm to keep it out of the way and hold her in position. Grizelda lost count of the blows after that, but they seemed never-ending. Her legs kicked wildly, crudely exposing her secret parts to Sir George, the puckered pink rim and the surrounding dark skin of her anus, the split fig of her cunt.

At last the blows stopped, Mr James stood up and sent her sprawling to the floor. Frantically she scrabbled to clear her mouth and take several deep breaths. Her head was whirling and she could feel her face covered in snot and tears. She could not control her shaking.

"That was for stealing," said Mr James. "Now we come to the lying. Stand up and take your clothes off."

Grizelda couldn't move. She lay in a foetal position on the floor, still snivelling. Mr James went on: "If you don't do it I will. And I won't be gentle." Sick at heart Grizelda climbed to her feet.

When she stood naked in front of the two men, acutely conscious of her throbbing bottom, Mr James said: "I want you to put your hands on your head and stand perfectly still." As she complied he said to the man in the bed "A touch of the strap, I think sir, then a dozen lashes?"

"Do you think she can stand it? Has she been whipped before?"

"I really don't know Sir George. I doubt it but I think it's worth a try."

"Start her off with half a dozen and we'll see how she takes them."

"Very well, sir." And the butler opened a drawer and took out a heavy leather strap, "but first this". As he walked towards Grizelda he slapped it across her stomach; this caught her by surprise and she bent forward clutching her middle, only to feel another, harder blow on her bottom. She straightened quickly, to hear the two men laughing as she rubbed furiously at her sore bum.The next blow slapped her across the shoulder blades: "I said, 'hands on head'," barked Mr James. She complied. "How many is that?" he asked her.

"Three, Mr James."

"Good. Another three, I think."

Two blows landed on her already sore bottom, making her sway and step forward, tears pouring down her face. The final blow with the strap caught her, with all the force the butler could muster, right across the backs of her knees. She crumpled into a heap on the floor.

"I think she needs a little support sir. I don't think she'll be able to stand still for the whip if a little tap with the leather has this kind of result."

"Very well, but please get on with it. She'll be needed soon to look after the young'uns."

The next part followed an obviously practiced routine. The handcuffs consisted of two padded leather wristbands joined by a short chain with a ratchet in the middle. A rope was fastened to the chain and its other end passed over a pulley in the ceiling then threaded through the ratchet. As the butler pulled the rope Grizelda was slowly drawn to her feet, until she was standing with her arms high above her

"Will that do, sir? Or shall we have her on tip-toes?"

"She'll do as she is, but please get on with it. Six strokes with the whip."

"I thought we were going to do twelve sir."

"Just six. Then we'll see."

"Very well." The strokes cut deeply and hurt more than anything Grizelda had ever known. By the time four had been delivered she was hanging in her restraints, head limp and eyes closed. Mr James stopped. After a while, as she didn't move, he released the ratchet and Grizelda fell to the floor. She was given a taste of brandy to revive her, then placed over the back of a chair for the final two strokes. The four in place already were neatly parallel and equally spaced. The next one was placed to match the others, then Mr James, who was clearly an expert at this game, planted the final stripe diagonally across all five, just like a five-bar gate.

When she had recovered and was able to stand, hands on head of course, Mr James spoke to Grizelda. "I shall leave now but I'll be back in about half an hour. In the meantime you will climb up on Sir George's bed and let him examine your marks."

Grizelda dared not disobey, even though she was horribly embarrassed. She was so wet she felt if she just touched her clitoris she would come, and she had to present this up close to the master's nose. But she knew she could not take any more punishment. She presented herself, wide open, sticky and smarting, to Sir George.

"Is there anything you need, sir?" said Mr James as he opened the door.

"Yes please. A magnifying glass."