Chastisement of Clara Thornton Pt. 02

Benson, the butler of the Thornton household, climbed the staircase of the family mansion situated in Hampstead, London. He made his way along the first floor landing and knocked on the door of one of the bedrooms.

'Who is it?' called out the young female occupant.

'Benson, ma'am, I have a message for you.'

'Come!' she instructed, sharply.

The older man opened the door and stepped into the room. Ageing though he was, the sight before him still made the veins of his penis fill with blood. Wearing a chemise, over which was a tight corset that came up to her breasts, lifting them and pushing them together, was the 19yr old daughter of his mistress and employer, Lady Amelia Thornton. Her lower half was clothed in thick stockings held up by garters while her upper thighs and private parts were covered by now unfashionable knee length knickers or pantaloons, commonly known as bloomers.

To Benson, a man who grew up when Victoria was England's Queen, the sight of a woman without her heavy over clothes was more than thrilling. It would have been unheard of in his younger days for an upper class female to allow the butler into her boudoir, even if she was fully dressed.

'The message is from your mother, ma'am. She's instructed me to inform you that 'it's time to get ready' - she says you'll understand what it is you have to get ready for.'

Clara had resigned herself to the fact she had no choice but to obey her mother's orders or she'd lose her allowance. There was a price to pay for being a strong activist with the rebellious Suffragette Movement, fighting for women's right to vote. To Lady A, Clara was bringing shame to the family.

Defiantly, Clara pointed at her own body.

'You can tell my mother that you have personally witnessed that I'm in the act of getting ready!

Benson looked where indicated, salivating at the sight of her deep cleavage and the lily white skin of her ample bosoms. Clara saw his reaction and knew he'd probably masturbate later in his room on the top floor.

'Perhaps you'd better not mention to my mother that you've been in my room and seen me in my underwear.'

She swayed from side to side intentionally getting the old man hot under the collar.

'Had you come here any other night, Benson - and seen me dressed in my normal undergarments - that are much more revealing - you'd have something much more exciting to think about when you amuse yourself before sleep. More bare flesh on show to titillate and excite you.

'You know Benson, you might not believe this but my dear mother is forcing me to submit to an act that men pay Ladies of the Night a lot of money to perform. Can you believe that Benson? If, during the course of the act, the folds in this garment separate then my entire private parts will be exposed. But my hypocritical mother doesn't seem to care about that!'

'It wouldn't be my place to comment ma'am.'

'But I'd wager you'd love to watch, Benson! Perhaps you dare to sneak down the corridor and listen outside the door, or peep through the keyhole; be careful not to moan to loudly with delight and betray your presence!'

Benson excused himself and hobbled out due to his erect penis pressing against his trousers. He wasn't quite sure what Clara was talking about but clearly something strange was going on.

When the clock struck nine Clara went downstairs and entered the parlour where her mother was conversing with Sir Peter.

'Ah, you've seen sense!' Lady A, gloated. 'You have resigned yourself to the situation. Very sensible indeed.'

'I'm only going along with this to prove you can't break me!'

'Oh dear, still the arrogant rebel!' Lady A said. 'Take her upstairs Peter - do what you have to do.'

Peter rose from his seat after emptying his glass of brandy and picked up a large leather bag. Clara, trying her best to put on a carefree persona, held her head in the air and walked ahead, not showing how curious she was about what the bag contained.

'We'll use your room,' Peter told her.

Benson, watched the couple climb the stairs, then turned to enter the parlour; he swore he noticed Lady A quickly pull her arm from underneath her gown.

'Does madam require me to stay on hand until Sir Peter leaves?'

'I'm not even sure that Sir Peter will be leaving, Benson. The rest of the evening is yours - come down later to turn out the lights and lock the doors. You're dismissed for now.'

The butler thanked his employer and quickly but quietly made haste up the staircase to find out where the couple had gone. He was very shocked to hear muffled voices coming from Clara's room; what business would Sir Peter have in the girl's bedroom? Clearly her mother was fully aware and had sanctioned it.

In the room Clara stood quite still with no intention of showing any co-operation. Peter put down his bag, opened it, took out a thin cane, swished it in the air then placed it on the dresser in sight of the girl. Next came a paddle then a leather strap, that Peter told her was a tawse; he flicked it through the air showing the girl that a good half was split into thin strips. Sir Peter delighted in seeing the anguish on her face.

'The force used depends on the level of obedience you demonstrate.'

Lastly, out of the bag came manacles, handcuffs and lengths of rope whose use hardly needed explaining.

'Of course, I won't be using all of these tonight; but they will be on hand. Your mother has given me permission to keep them here in a locked cupboard - I may add other items to the collection as the weeks go on!'

Clara gave him a look that could kill.

'Weeks? Never? I'm prepared to submit to this disgraceful and perverted treatment once or twice - if only to show your attempts to break me will be futile. You are deluded sir, if you think you'll still be performing this outrageous debacle weeks from now!'

Sir Peter smiled calmly before he grabbed her and flung her on the bed with such force that the mattress bounced like a trampoline. Before she could protest he was sat on top of her, his weight preventing her from drawing enough breathe to speak. Weakened, she could do nothing when he took each wrist and bound her to the bed posts.

Moving off her, she cried out, blaspheming and threatening to see the man imprisoned. As she flung her legs around in a vain hope she might escape she turned her head when Peter moved to her side, took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Then in his hand was the cane.

Still protesting noisily Clare shouted of the butler demanding he call her mother. It was then that she felt the first whack of the thin stick on her rump. Thankful that she was wearing her thickest items of underwear, nevertheless, she flinched when the cane began to occasionally miss her buttocks and strike the tops of her thighs.

'Remember what I said, Clara, the more obedience and submissiveness you show me, the less pain you will suffer.'

'How on Earth can I show you submissiveness and obedience when you already have me tied to the bed?' 'Clara screeched through her tears.

'All will become clear in the fullness of time,' Sir Peter said, with a sinister tone in his voice.

As though he was giving Clara some sort of clue he placed the cane on the calf of her leg and slowly stroked it up over the back of her knee. The girl heard a swish of air then felt a sharp stinging sensation on the back of her leg that took away her breathe. Another strike, much gentler, landed on her lower thigh, and then one on her mid thigh was delivered even softer.

'Are you getting the picture, my girl?'

Clara did have some thoughts on what Peter was trying convey- but she tried to dismiss them from her mind as they were utterly disgraceful and shocking. Her refusal to accept the possibility she could be right was changed when she felt the man lift her skirts up over her hips to expose her derrière covered by her thick pantaloons.

'My God, Sir,' the sobbing girl yelled out, 'Surely mother didn't give permission for you to commit this indecent atrocity!'

Sit Peter again stroked the cane over her underwear; then delivered several whacks across her bottom cheeks, causing her arse to rise and fall as her muscles tensed.

'I'm very sure,' Sir Peter, said, 'That these under garments are not your normal attire - not what you'd normally wear. Am I right?'

As he spoke, the man carried on using the cane on the girl's backside. When she did not answer the strokes fell harder and faster.

'I asked; am I right?'

Clara bit her lip and stayed silent. Her tormentor had to ask twice more before he broke her resolve by increasing the force of his whacks.

'I will ask again - am I right?'

'YES!' Clara shouted.

'So you thought you'd get away by padding your posterior with garments your mother or grandmother would wear, in an attempt to cushion the blows?'

'Yes,' she sobbed.

The caning stopped. Clara's arse cheeks stung and throbbed with the pain.

'When we do this again, I expect you to wear the undergarments you usually wear. Do you understand me?'

'I do yes,' Clara answered, submissively.

'Are your bottom cheeks burning - can you feel that sensation?' Peter asked - his tone had changed.

This time Clara gave a prompt answer, 'Yes.'

'Then we'll try the paddle!'

Peter already had it in his hand. Tightening her muscles ready to feel the pain, Clara closed her eyes; now there wasn't much padding to cushion the slaps. To her great surprise, though the whacks made more noise, any discomfort was hardly felt. Like before, the cheeks of her bottom tensed then immediately relaxed; the pain had given way to a very warm, almost hot sensation. As the paddle hit across her rump, making her rear end rise slightly Clara also became aware that every time her cheeks tightened so did her anus and her vaginal muscles. She was reluctant to admit the fact, but the feeling was almost pleasant - in a sexual way.

'We'll do more another day, Clara.' Peter said, suddenly bringing the chastisement to an end. 'Don't forget what I told you about your undergarments, will you?'

'I won't,' she said softly.

Peter freed her wrists allowing the girl to turn over on her back, but the tenderness and soreness she felt caused her to roll over again and draw herself up so the side of her right thigh took all of her weight. She lay still watching her tormentor pack away his sadistic implements. Peter smiled to himself when he noted Clara still had her heavy skirt up around her waist. His cock stiffened and he didn't try to hide the bulge from Clara; she did realise what might have made him hard, but she didn't bother to pull down her clothing.

'I'll give this to Benson and he'll lock it away for me.'

'That will mean Benson will eventually realise what I'm being made to submit to!' Clara said, finding her voice.

'I would venture to say, he's already well aware of the arrangement.'

Peter was right, Benson, had been standing behind the door and heard every shout sob and sound of a swishing stick making a whistling sound as it cut through the air, every slap of a paddle making contact with Clara's backside. He recognised those sounds - he had heard them before. Picturing the scene in the bedroom he had masturbated with great excitement throughout the punishment session.

When Peter had left the room with his box, Clara poured water from a jug into a bowl and washed her tear-stained face. She walked to the full length mirror and dropping her underwear lifted her gown to examine her arse. It was red and angry; Clara remembered her anus and cunt alternately tensing then relaxing every time the implement made contact. She realised that subconsciously her hand had dropped between her legs touching her slit. Before she went back downstairs Clara rubbed her tiny love button until she climaxed.

Walking into the drawing room Clara confronted her mother.

'I submitted to having Sir Peter use his cane on my posterior,' Clara said with much sarcastic defiance, 'I hope he got pleasure from carrying out the perverted act. It's quite astonishing that my own mother granted him permission to do such a thing. I'd like you to know that nothing has changed, my views remain the same. I am now retiring for the night.'

Very quickly she left the room. As she climbed the staircase Benson appeared on the landing waiting for her to pass. Clara detected a faint smirk and saw something in his eyes; she stopped and stared him in the eye.

'Have you had an enjoyable evening, Benson?'

It wasn't the sort of question she'd normally ask, which made his face redden and feel sheepish.

'My evening has been quite pleasant ma'am,' he answered.

Clara stood unusually close to the man servant.

'Well, I hope that same pleasantness continues when you go to your room, Benson! Enjoy the rest of your evening.' She smiled, continuing to stare him in the eye. The man felt shocked that Clara had so quickly discovered his voyeuristic behaviour.

Two days passed with Clara continuing to invoke the wrath of her mother who now seemed to be picking on trivialities. If the girl had copied Benson she would know why.

Sir Peter had also pleasured himself in the bathroom of the room that Lady A had allocated to him for when he stayed the night. Ready for a large brandy he followed etiquette and asked Benson to enquire if Lady A would like his company for a while before she retired - which was duly granted.

'How did she do, Peter?' Lady Amelia asked.

'Very well, now she knows the consequences of behaving in a disobedient manner, I tanned her backside until she sobbed.'

'Did you cause her any humiliation?'

'That is what I intend to concentrate on at our next session.'

Lady A, snorted and drew in a deep breath.

'I think making her suffer some humiliation will prove very interesting. Tell me Peter, did you enjoy performing the task?'

'Very much so, my dear Amelia!'

Panting for breathe Lady A raised up her skirts and pulled open the divided leg of her pantaloons.

'Put your head between my legs and bring me to orgasm, Peter. I'm sure your task will become even more enjoyable when Clara realises the joy of being submissive.'

Lady A's middle-aged cunt, had been well fucked over the years, and not only by her now deceased husband. She had also experienced the same sort of corporal punishment that her daughter was now on course to have knowledge of. Secretly the mother envied the modern world her daughter was growing up in. Working her cunt against the mouth of Sir Peter, holding the sides of his head, Amelia thought how many more men she could have had, how many more hard cocks fucking her holes if she'd have had the same freedoms Clara had now.

The door opened and the mistress of the house heard the word 'Sorry M'lady!' uttered in a shocked tone.

'Come in Benson!' the Lady commanded.

'I was erm... wondering if M'lady required me further tonight?'

Benson waited patiently for an answer that was a long time coming; he was quite happy to remain in the room watching Sir Peter being face fucked.

'Benson, I need something extra tonight. I see you have an erection, take it out and come stand by my side.'

Benson obeyed without question. In his many years of service Benson had come across Lady A fornicating with various men many times - especially when she was younger. When desperate, Lady A had often made use of the butler's good sized penis. Without any hesitation the butler offered up his stiff cock to the mouth of his mistress, who opened wide and devoured it, sucking hard and bobbing her head back and forth. He knew she loved to swallow whatever came out of a man's piss hole. He was such a faithful servant, warned by every female member of the household past and present that if he divulged anything he'd seen, heard or done he would never work again. That didn't worry him; any extra duties that included use of his cock were usually very pleasant.

Lady A, now entering late middle age remained insatiable when it came to enjoying a good fuck. Some would say she was a hypocrite for demanding such high Victorian standards from her daughter - though to be fair, any mention of sex or criticism of Clara's developing libido was never mentioned. To the British Upper Classes all that mattered were outward appearances and following the correct etiquette.

A few days had passed without argument or intrigue. Then the arrival of Sir Peter one late afternoon signalled to Clara that she would almost definitely have to accompany him upstairs to her bedroom. Lady A sent word to the kitchen that dinner should be served an hour early. Clearly something was planned for the evening that required more time.

Clara noticed Benson keep glancing at her with a 'I know what's going to follow' smirk. She was already feeling humiliation from realising the butler knew that shortly she'd have to offer up her backside while her mother's man friend administered corporal punishment to her rear end. She was further humiliated by the fact Benson would almost certainly have told all the other staff members.

After dining some time passed while Sir Peter drank brandy and chatted to Lady A; Clara excused herself and went to her room, contemplating on what the evening would bring. Anticipating her mother would send Benson with an instruction to make herself ready, Clara washed and perfumed her body, then laid her garments out on the bed.

Remembering Sir Peter's instructions she took out a pair of white cotton frilly knickers that came half way down her thighs that featured a divided leg and open crotch for convenience when visiting the lavatory. Clara gave this design some thought, realising that unlike her long bloomers where the material folded over and disguised the open flaps, the open crotch could quite easily be revealed. Clara felt a shiver of excitement at the thought of Peter being able to see her arse crack - and more. Tight around her waist would be a corset that came up to her chest, almost like a bodice, pushing her breast high and together forming a deep cleavage.

And that is as far as she progressed when there was a knock on the bedroom door. Her heart beat increased when she asked who it was, knowing it was bound to be the butler. When he identified himself Clara felt a thrill, knowing what she was about to do.

'Come in!' she called out.

The door opened and Benson stepped into the room, stunned into silence by the sight before him; he instantly got an erection.

'I beg your pardon ma'am; I thought I heard you tell me to enter.'

'I did Benson, you are correct. Come in and close the door.'

'But ma'am, just being in the bedroom would be frowned upon; closing the door with you only partly dressed could get me flogged!'

'Flogged, Benson? That's what Sir Peter will be doing to me shortly. But you already know that, don't you?'

Clara walked around the bed so she was in full view of the ageing manservant.

Do you think he'll be pleased with my choice of underwear? I'm sure you'll have guessed that my gown will be thrown up when he commands me to bend over.' Clara turned away from him and bent over. 'This is what he'll see, Benson. Do you think he'll enjoy the view - are you enjoying the view?'

Benson, now sweating profusely, stammered.

'I shouldn't be here ma'am!'

'No one is going to know Benson - just you and I! Is this what you picture when you stand in the corridor, listening, masturbating?'

'My goodness ma'am - I can't deny it - you are very perceptive.'

Let's make the most of the time, Benson - release your cock from your trousers, in fact, let them fall down around your ankles.'

With shaking hands the butler undid his fly and the clasps of his braces. As his trousers fell to the floor his penis pushed out a good seven inches against the flannelette of his 'long johns'

'Let me watch you masturbate,' Clara said, exposing her nipples for the man to see.