Lady Pennington's Manor

It was an easy plan to set up, one day during routine discussions with one of the more chatty workmen, I let slip that during my morning perambulations I would often swim in the lake. I followed this revelation with the correct bashfulness and the variety of pleas for secrecy that I knew would ensure every workman would know by the end of the day.

The next morning I made a point of telling the workman that I wanted the new servants door fitted by the time I returned from my walk. This served two purposes, to highlight I was going for my walk and to allow the workmen to think they have an alibi. Fitting a new door takes seconds if everyone works together and I walked towards the lake with a tingle in my stomach knowing the workmen would not be far behind.

I reached the lake and found a clearing nearby, my hands shaking as I unbuttoned my dress. The workmen were not good at hiding, peering through bushes and around trees far smaller than them, but I played along with the theatre of voyeurism that I had chosen to be protagonist in. I dropped my dress, leaving only my corset and bloomers between myself and my audience (I had forgone my petticoat and chemise for the sake of time.)

A single tug at the ribbon was all it took to feel the corset loosen, my heaving breasts pushing out against the boning, yearning to be free. A few deep breaths later I loosened the ribbon at the back, and felt my corset fall to the ground, revealing my bust to the world. At this point, overcome with fervour a workman lost his footing, creating a rustling noise. I felt it was imperative on me that the voyeuristic illusion be maintained, so I clasped my discarded corset to my chest and meekly yelled “is anybody there?”

Once satisfied that I had demonstrated the level of caution that would suffice, I dropped the corset back to my feet and bent down to remove my bloomers. Once totally in the nude, I decided to pretend I had heard a sound coming from the bushes in the opposite direction, giving me a great opportunity to turn around and turn back again, giving them a 360 degree view of my entire naked body. Once satisfied with my performance, I slowly submerged myself into the lake.

The cool waters lapped my body, there was a true feeling of being unconnected to anything, no clothes touching me, no ground beneath my feet, just floating free in naught but with which I was born. I even felt a pang of regret that I had told the workmen as I would have loved to have touched myself there and then, but I was still keeping up the pretense that I was a prim and proper lady.

The next thought I had was one of concern for my clothes. Men’s mischief being known and dark, I wondered if they would be minded to remove my garments before my return to shore. I floated with my eyes closed, drinking in delightful daydreams of myself, cowed bent double for all I possessed to cover me would be my own two hands. Walking through the throng of workmen to enter my manor, if indeed they would let me without having their beastly way with me.

I returned to the world conscious that my burning loins could not be extinguished by the lakes waters and eager to get home and try a more direct route of self-pleasure. I swam to the shore and felt the greatest mix of relief and regret that my clothes had remained where they were. I dressed slowly, allowing the workmen plenty of time to make their escape “unnoticed”. Once dressed I surveyed the areas where the men had been hidden, I was thrilled to discover there were a couple of places where their seed still lingered on the ground.

Now every interaction with the workmen comes with a creeping knowledge at the back of my mind that I was now to run a daily strip show for their voyeuristic lust.

~~~

Eliza let the book fall from her lap as she touched herself. Unlike the clasps on the wall, this was not a diary entry she could easily recreate. Nevertheless she resolved herself to wake up early the following morning to find the lake mentioned in the diary, but the voice in her head still whispered terrible ideas.

“The diary said Lady Pennington was getting tired of the wall shackles, you’re not tired of the wall shackles yet.” It posited. Resigned to her fate Eliza stripped off her nightgown and made her way to the secret room.

...

It was 6am when the ringing bell acted as harbinger of Eliza’s freedom. She collapsed to her knees, shivering with cold and frustration. She knew what she had to do next.

Eliza had spent her time locked to the wall thinking every deviant thought about how she was going to recreate Lady Pennington’s display at the lake. She couldn’t invite people to sneak and watch her like Rosetta did. A few grinds against the wall clouded her judgement enough to give her an idea.

“If I can’t recreate Lady Pennington’s experience,” she thought to herself, “then I will recreate her fantasy.”

It was a short walk to the lake, still firmly in Pennington grounds but now overgrown and unused despite the area being open to the public and a nearby hiking trail passing extremely close to it. Eliza found a clearing good enough to enter the water from, and stripped off her clothes, one by one, placing them in a pile as she exposed her flesh to the world. She stood naked looking at the rough pile that contained her jeans, t-shirt and underwear, her mind racing at the idea she’d had while tied to the wall. She picked up the bundle of clothes and began to walk away from the lake towards the hiking path.

The forest was thick and by the time she had navigated the myriad of overgrown trees and bushes, Eliza was more scratched up than she would have liked. Nonetheless she had reached the small dirt path regularly trodden by the holidaying hikers of the nearby hotels and campsites. She looked as far as she could both ways but there weren’t any hikers around at that point in time. Breaking cover she ran into the middle of the path, placing the clothes dead centre where nobody could miss them. Then on top of her clothes she placed a paper sign of her own making, it simply said “please take.”

Eliza fled back to the bushes, taking one last look at her clothes before abandoning them to the world. She walked the whole way back to the lake in a crouch, her mind going crazy with scenarios and consequences, what little vestigial attachment to sanity remained was begging her to go retrieve her clothes, but it was drowned out by the dark urges she had been feeding since she locked herself against the wall in the previous night.

Eliza reached the lake and began to wade in, the cold water slowly running up her body as she took each step deeper, before lifting her feet up and feeling herself float away from the silty ground. Eliza had to admire Lady Pennington’s description of floating in the lake, she had never been swimming without a swimming costume and to float naked was to feel truly untouched. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the sensation of feeling nothing, then she lowered her hand and gave her pussy the lightest touch. The sensory deprivation meant that the whole world was lost to her stimulation and from there she brought herself to one of the most intense orgasms she had ever felt.

Once her breathing had slowed Eliza decided to return to the Manor, but inevitably she wanted to return to the hiking path to see if her clothes were still there. Through more scratchy bushes she fought her way to the path and observed that her clothes were indeed still present. She took a moment to think things through and with her mind cleared by her earlier orgasm she decided it was probably for the best for her to fetch her clothes. She was taking some deep breaths to prepare herself for breaking cover when she heard footsteps approaching. Eliza dived back into cover and kept her body as low as possible as two hikers approached.

Two large men had clearly gotten up early to get a good days hiking in. Eliza watched wide eyed with horror as one of the men made a beeline for her clothes, picking them up with a quizzical look on his face. He and his friend discussed the pile of clothes in front of them for a small amount of time, before both shrugging and packing Eliza’s clothes into their backpacks. Eliza watched her clothes disappear over the horizon, before resigning herself to walking back to the manor naked.

The walk back to the manor was fairly uneventful, Eliza spent the whole journey worrying about whether someone would turn up early like on her first day, occasionally giving her bell a quick ring to embrace the excitement of uncertainty. As she sprinted across the car park and through the front door she was glad that nobody had seen her, but felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t been seen like Lady Pennington.

She went to her suitcase and looked through her clothes, counting how many outfits she had left, her mind racing with a single thought.

“If you go for a swim every day like Lady Pennington, you only have two weeks worth of clothes before you are forced to wear exclusively clothes from the secret wardrobe.”

...

Eliza decided that she needed to earn each chapter of Lady Pennington’s diary. She set herself targets that would ensure that when she read the next page, she would be in a similar position of deviancy to the author. To that end she had two things on her mind, firstly that she had grown accustomed to the wall restraints and secondly, she will have given away all but one of her modern outfits, so she at least has something to wear back to the real world at the end of this experience.

After two weeks Eliza finally felt ready for the next part of her adventure. She was now wearing a different Lady Pennington outfit every day. Some were subtly erotic; like the dark green dress with tight leather straps sewn underneath, bondage unseen to the outside world. Some were worryingly normal, which meant Eliza spent the whole time wearing it wondering what the catch was, her heart doing somersaults at the thoughts of sudden degradation or exposure. Eliza had not brought herself to wearing the overtly erotic outfits yet, like the formal dress whose corset bust ended below the breasts and whose skirt parted wide at the waist, exposing everything.

One night when Eliza found she was having to force herself to enter the restraints against the wall, out of duty rather than desire, she knew it was time to read the next chapter.

~~~

Dearest Diary,

I confess I had been focussed more on acquisition of the means to explore my vices than their indulgence prior to last night. I spent my days with needle and thread, altering outfits to suit my devious needs, all the while satisfying my urges through my morning swims. The highlights of these swims being the windy day that blew my clothes rather far from the lake, and the time I disciplined some workers for arriving early, still wearing my specially adapted nightgown and finger not leaving a position inside of me the entire time.

Yesterday I decided it was time to discover something new. I saw my opportunity with the return of housekeeping staff, my husband deciding that building work had proceeded enough that he would occasionally venture home and keep up appearances that he wished me with child. Of course when it came to night time activities, he would see himself wearied at counting his investments and wish a restful night in preparation for the return journey to London, happy at the existence of my own separate bed. I was simply an asset he had acquired, an investment in status that could be left now it was accruing value in the right circles.

We have tradesmen in and out of the manor all day and it is my job to interview them. For the sake of proprietary each interview is booked and shared with the rest of the household staff. With their lack of interest it took little to no effort for me to book an appointment with a fictional wardrober I christened Thomas Thrustpike. The timing of our dalliance was specifically planned to be during the lunch break of the workmen.

Firstly, I confirmed the manor was empty of men, I was sure they had flocked to the nearby alehouse where doubtless the landlord will be prepared for retirement by the end of the building project. Next my deception was to begin.

I shivered as I left my parlour, nought covering my body but goosebumps and a sense of confidence. I took the very same quill that currently graces this page and used it to write the following sentence upon my torso.

“I decline the job offer as I do not wish to work for a stuck up shrew.”

Once labelled with what would become my alibi, I brought myself to my dressing room, adjacent to the parlour and very much still under construction. Using scraps of fabric I tied my ankles either side of the exposed doorframe. My legs now secure I had a few alterations before I would secure my wrists in a similar fashion. First I took the bloomers I had been wearing for days on end, cut them roughly with scissors to slim them down and to make them look like they had been cut from my body, before stuffing them into my mouth, ensuring the fabric in direct contact with my nethers was the first to hit my tongue. I used another scrap of fabric to secure the bloomers in my mouth, and a further scrap of fabric over the eyes ensured my world would be plunged into darkness. Lastly and with great wrangling, I attached my wrists to the doors, as I pulled the last scrap of fabric taut, I knew I was now trapped in the situation I had designed.

The narrative of course would be that a potential wardrober, unsatisfied with my poor behavior, took advantage of the state of my undress and decided to tie me naked to teach me a lesson. Usually when the workmen see me naked, it is during my morning swim, I still maintain an air of nobility and thus an additional layer of strength. The first workman to discover me today would instead see me in a position of complete subservience, and forevermore our interactions would be coloured by the knowledge that he has seen me in my most disempowered state.

My heart fluttered as I heard the parlour door open and the thud of work boots heading straight towards me. I trembled as the parlour went silent, then a small chuckle cut through the silence and stilled my beating heart.

Then a calloused hand roughly grabbed my heaving bosoms.

This was more than I could have hoped for, the first man to discover the situation I had placed myself in had decided to take advantage of it for his own sexual gratification. His hands began to wander my body, tracing my curves and grabbing my buttocks with a force that almost made them pop. Next his hands ventured to my most moistened of unmentionables, fingers probing inwards as I swayed in place, pulling hard against the unyielding door frame and the rags that held me in place.

I audibly gasped, beyond that which even the sternest gag could contain, when I felt his manhood begin to rub between my legs. As luck would have it (depending on your definition of lucky) he was too tall to comfortably insert the probing member into me tied at a specific height, so instead he took to knocking on the servants’ door so to speak. Clearly he was not used to such a situation as it was very little time indeed until I felt his seed splashing against my pubis and dripping down between the crevasses of my intimates.

The next person to discover me was the foreman of my workers, who decided the Christian thing to do was to release me from the predicament I had found myself in. I made all the right noises of cowering and ordering people to avert their eyes while I returned to my room to fetch clothes. I briefly emerged to swear all who saw me to secrecy, citing that I had gone against my husband’s wishes by interviewing a man without a chaperone and did not wish him to discover the situation I had put myself in.

I spent the rest of the day sequestered in my room, I’m sure the workers felt it was out of embarrassment, they were not to know I was giving my bed’s new hidden attachment a thorough testing.

~~~

Eliza couldn’t believe her eyes, there was a hidden attachment on her bed and she hadn’t noticed. She immediately began fumbling around the four poster bed, looking for secret panels or hidden switches. It took her a while but soon she found an ornate carved leaf, that when pressed opened the footboard of the bed. Swinging away from the bed was a wooden platform, with a small stabilising leg that swung down to hold it steady. Above the board were two heavily varnished and ornately carved penises, one smaller than the other.

Eliza quickly worked out that Rosetta Pennington could press her back against the outside of the footboard and fuck herself silly, using the posts on the bed to hold her steady and facing directly the door to the bedroom, unlocked and welcoming to anyone who cares to investigate the strange noises coming from within.

Eliza immediately got to work thoroughly cleaning the dusty old dildos, her mind racing with fantasies of fucking the same cocks fucked by Lady Pennington all those years ago. As she stroked and caressed the wooden cocks that unhelpful voice in her head returned.

“You haven’t earned it yet. You haven’t been through what Lady Pennington went through.”

Eliza sighed with frustration when she realised she couldn’t bring herself to fuck the bed mechanism until she proved herself worthy through a similar humiliation to Lady Pennington.

...

Eliza shivered at the thought of what was ahead of her, unlike lady Pennington she had never knowingly exposed herself to another person and now she was about to jump in the deep end, hoping her cover story would insulate her from the worst of the consequences.

She looked at the clock, it was 6:45am. Although the manor opened at 7 it was very rare that people arrived first thing in the morning. Nevertheless Eliza stood naked looking at the currently unlocked front door. She had borrowed a marker pen from the gift shop and used it to write “cheating whore” in big letters across her chest. Next she began to bind herself just like Lady Pennington had, only this time her limbs would be secured to the bannister of the main staircase, making her the instant centre of attention to anyone who walked through the front door.

First Eliza tied her legs far apart using rags she had made from remnants of her old bedsheet, then she took her knickers and stuffed them into her mouth. The spur of the moment nature of this experience meant she didn’t have the time to dirty her underwear like Lady Pennington, so instead she had spent the whole of the previous night rubbing her pussy through the fabric to ensure the garment was drenched in her juices. Next she used some more rags to force her knickers into her throat, wrapping them around her head again to cover her eyes descend her world into darkness. Finally, and with a great amount of fumbling, she was able to secure her hands to the bannister, pulling the knots tight and abandoning herself to her fate.

The darkness swirled with uncertainty as Eliza contemplated her near future. At any moment someone would walk through the front door and see her in this disgraceful state. She would be powerless to resist their gaze or anything else for that matter. If they chose to molest her she would have to stand there and take it. And what about camera phones? They didn’t exist in Lady Pennington’s day but they were very much a feature in the world she lived in. Eliza struggled against her bonds, hoping to change her mind, but it was too late.

Through the darkness she heard the low roar of an engine pulling up outside the manor. She heard the door open and the sounds of gasps filled the air. There were far more than she was expecting. Suddenly light filled her eyes as her makeshift blindfold was pulled from her head, in front of her was a coach party from a local chapter of the Women’s Institute, at least thirty or forty elderly women staring at her degraded naked body.