Nathaniel: Lessons Learnt

“Chain him, Mrs Morgan. I’ll be down to deal with him later.”
“Yes your Lordship.”
I watched the boy being taken away and glanced over to Celeste only to see her quickly dismount and rush into the Manor. I sensed she was in a high state of excitement. As we made our way back from the wood, her eyes were blazing and her colour was up as she triumphantly returned the handcuffed Southwark.
I dismounted, handing the reins to a stable lad, dismissed the whipper-in and strode up the stone steps. I went straight to my study for a stiff whisky and to reflect on a successful morning. A ride in the crisp, dawn air does wonders for a man’s constitution. Especially when that ride involves a chase, and even more so when it results in a successful capture.
I rang for a servant and sank into the leather armchair and glanced around the walls to my collection of erotic engravings as I waited for my drink. I admired the delicious decadence created by Goya, Rops and Beardsley, and felt the warm ache of desire begin to grow in my loins, swiftly replacing the ache in my body from the earlier chase.
I rang for my Butler, Wilson, and when he appeared I instructed him to have a bath drawn and a fresh suit of clothes laid out for me.
“And Wilson, I want Slut to carry these instructions out.” I stressed.
“Yes your Lordship.” He replied and left the room.
I must admit since her capture in London, she had begun to conform and performed her duties adequately, if in a surly manner. There was something wild about her, though, that inflamed me far more then the usual street girls I have possessed. I still wished to own that spirit of hers; I wanted to make her mine.
I reflected on ways to go about this as I entered my bedroom. Moments later I hear the melodic tinkle of the silver bell Celeste had placed around her neck and I tried to hide the smile that graced my face. She entered the room and rushed past me, face down, to go into the bathroom and I then heard her turn the water on in the bath. I cannot say what came over me but I decided there and then that it was time for her training to begin.
I walked over to the bathroom door and then spoke firmly and clearly.
“Get back over here Slut!” I commanded, and I saw her jump, then rush into the bedroom room before me. Despite her apparent obedience, her stern gaze returned and fixed itself on mine.
“Lower your eyes, you must never raise your eyes to me, unless I instruct you to do so.” She then cast her eyes down and waited for more instructions. “Also, you do not ever pass me without a curtsy Slut.”
She nodded her head but there was still no curtsy.
“Well, where is it?” I asked. She then curtsied. “You may go back to your duties.” She curtsied again and left the room. I was beginning to feel like this was being too easy, but then I shrugged the feeling off and walked into the bathroom where slut was knelt over feeling the temperature of the water. I strode behind her, pressing my ever-growing sex against her backside. She let out a dull sigh and tried to straighten up. I grabbed her hips and held her firmly in this position. She did not resist so I decided to push her to her limits. I slid my hands down to the hem of her skirt and quickly raised it above her waist. Her body tensed, but she did not otherwise react.
I then quickly slipped my right hand inside her underwear and squeezed her right buttock hard. She held onto the tap with her left hand and used her right to smack mine away. I only delighted in this and grasped her right hand with my left and pushed it up her back, I then proceeded to pull her underwear down, her creamy backside exposed to me still red and slightly bruised from the other afternoon’s sport in the Games Room. I then took her left hand and joined it with the right and pressed it firmly against her back.
“For that I’m going to punish you Slut and not just because you deserve it but because I want to see you writhe beneath me.”
“Please don’t.” She pleaded. I couldn’t help but wonder why she had been so compliant.
“Why not?”
“Because it still hurts from yesterday.” She whimpered. I looked down upon her almost sympathetically, my desire to discipline her mixed with a sudden wish to care for her, something I have never felt before. However, the former quickly overcame the latter and I began to firmly hand spank her bare behind. She started to resist, struggling and thrashing about as I increased the volume and intensity of the spanking. As I passed forty strokes, she began to cry, begging me to cease. This only fired my desire to punish her.
“I’ll not reconsider until you’ve had at least one hundred strokes, Slut, and even then I’ll expect you to want more.”
“Nathaniel, please?” She sobbed. I stopped for a moment. My name on her lips? This only confused me, should I punish her for this or do I take her into the bedroom, lay her on the bed and hear her call my name again?
I roughly turned her around and drew her face close to mine.
“What did you say Slut?”
She remained silent for a moment holding my gaze, then softly replied: “Thank you Nathaniel.” I tossed her to the floor, and then left the bathroom shouting over my shoulder. “Get out Slut!” I didn’t know what else to do. Should I show her compassion or should I reprimand her? I had never been in this position before, the girls we have at the Manor divided into two categories those to be beaten and those to be fucked. Niamh had confused my judgement and added a further element to the equation… desire. She began to rise to leave, then a resolution came to mind, why not have it all?
“Slut, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll have my bath now and punishment will continue promptly afterwards. While I’m in the bath, I want you to lay out a suit of clothes and once that’s finished I want you to go into the bottom draw of my dresser and take out my crop. It’s to be laid next to my suit and when that’s done come into the bathroom with a towel and await by the bath until I’m ready to leave it.”
I saw a flicker of panic in her eyes and I felt that I had achieved my goal. This will be more then an enjoyable challenge. I left and went into the bathroom and removed my clothes, stripping them away like a snake sheds its skin. It felt like I was leaving an old life behind.
The water was warm and soothing against my skin. I took the bar of soap into my hands and began to work it into a thick lather, which I massaged onto my body. Sitting back and relaxing, I watched Slut swiftly walk to and fro getting everything prepared as instructed. I heard the bottom dresser draw open and close and I could again feel the ache rise between my legs again. I knew that this had to wait, like all good things, anticipation will make it all the more sweeter to the taste.
Walking into the bathroom, Sluts eyes were cast down as instructed and gathering a towel in her arms she stood by the bathtub and patiently waited. I could see her honey coloured cheeks begin to flush as she heard me bathe myself. The water was beginning to cool and cloud over with the soap deposits, and had lost its heat. Feeling a slight chill, I thought it best to rise and begin Sluts’ training.
“Towel.” I said calmly. She turned her head in the other direction, and with her arms out stretched she handed me the towel. I could see this poor girl was embarrassed, this would make it all the more delicious to do what I was purposing to do. I relieved the little wretch of the towel and wrapped it around my lower half. Drying my feet on the black bear skin laid out beside the bathtub, I passed by her and into the bedroom.
She had done as she was instructed; a fresh suit was laid out with a freshly laundered, crisp white shirt. She also had selected a fine riding crop which was lying next to my trousers. I took the crop in hand and held it by my thigh, tightly.
“Slut, I want you in here.” I called to her. She scurried into the bedroom and stood before me. I looked at her, her eyes blankly staring back at me.
“I suppose you want me to curtsy?” She smiled sarcastically. This didn’t raise a smile, and I sensed a return of the old, truculent, slut re-emerging.
“Yes Slut, I want you to curtsy to your Master.”
“You are not my Master and I will not obey you.” Her eyes blazed with fire when she spat out those words to me. That did raise a smile, as I strode over to her and grabbed her hair. The white starched cap fell off her head and revealed her beautiful curly tresses. I dragged her over to the bed like a bitch on a lead, and pointed her face to the clothing that she had laid out for me.
“Oh? If you will not obey me then what is this Slut? I remember telling you to lay out my clothing and here it is on the bed nicely presented.” I waited for her to answer, when there was no answer, I then waited for her to struggle. “You’ve lost this battle Slut. In time you will want nothing better in this useless life of yours than to serve me. If you don’t think that I’m your Master yet, then I will soon persuade you to think otherwise.”
I then threw her onto the bed, on top of the clothing she had prepared for me. Walking over to the head of the bed, I withdrew a pair of leather restraints from behind the pillow and, as she tried to gather herself I only pushed her back down, taking both of her wrists and clasping the cuffs around them, holding her hands behind her back. I then knelt down and drew out a long metal bar, about a yard long, from under the bed. This also had leather cuffs, but at each end.
I straddled her and grasped her ankles, then pushed her legs apart and fastened one leg to the right end and the other to the left, keeping her legs apart. She struggled; Oh, how it delighted me to see this little tyrant struggle!
I stood up by the bed and admired my handiwork. I then noticed, despite the heat I had generated by the struggle, that the room was getting quite chilly so I rang for Wilson. When he entered, I saw his eyes flash with excitement over Slut’s position. However, I instructed him to light the fire and exit. I could see a look of pure disappointment strike his face.
“Wilson, this I think I should do alone.” I tried to offer my condolences to him, and promised him participation in future discipline sessions. He did not speak, but only nodded and left the room. As I was still in my towel, I thought it best to dress myself before continuing. I donned a pair of trousers and a black shirt, which I buttoned half way. Once dressed I returned, crop in hand, to the silent, bound Slut. Lifting her skirts up above her waist, I pulled her underwear down, then ripped it open and removed it. Her rump was still red and warm from the recent spanking and, with her legs apart, I could smell her sex growing ever so aroused.
I let my hands run up the back of her thigh and up to the bottom of her buttock. Squeezing and pinching, watching her wiggle. Moving my hand slowly towards her inner thigh, I crept further to her sweet, unprotected furrow. Grazing my fingertips on the opening, feeling its moisture, I could begin to feel that ache again, and almost took my pleasure there and then, but I held back, knowing I had to wait.
Once the fire had significantly warmed up the room, I felt ready to begin.
“Slut, since you are incapable of obeying simple instructions, I’m going to punish you.” She began to struggle again, “You can struggle but I would much prefer you save your strength for later, as you’re going to need it.” With that she stopped and I began.
Firmly holding the crop in my right hand I began to tap it against that supple backside of hers. Building up is my preferred choice of punishment, as I tapped I could smell that familiar scent growing more and more powerful. One would think that the little demon was enjoying this! Taps soon became strikes as I intensified the deliverance of strokes. Welts began to form as I moved from cheek to cheek up and down in a rhythmic fashion. She fought, bucking and grunting her obscenities, and I only laughed.
“That makes me only desire you more my darling wretch!” I scoffed. She buried her face into the covers and bellowed to the high heavens, as if to show me she could take it. Two hundred lashings by my count, and I stopped. Sobbing and bellowing, Slut tried to form a sentence to tell me how she felt but all words seemed to have escaped her. I gave her a moment to regain composure and stop her sniffling, which I thought was most gracious on my part, and then sat down next to her. She still kept her face hidden away.
The welts on her blazed buttocks enticed me, and I ran my hands over them and pinched them firmly. I could hear Slut choking back her tears as I drew them out of her.
“Cry it’s all right. If it hurts, and it’s meant to, then cry.” She did, she sobbed until she could sob no more, and then she sobbed again. This was beautiful to me; to hear the gentle breakdown of that wilful spirit. It became very clear to me that I was beginning to control her. Her soft tears only sparked that desire again, and this time I felt ready to take my pleasure.

Celeste: The Thrill of the Chase

I was awoken before first light by Grace, my maid. She lit the gas lamp, then knelt before my bed with her head bowed, and her arm outstretched. In her hand was a piece of paper, folded and sealed with wax.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” she said, “his Lordship has asked me to pass you this message.”

I took it and dismissed her. She thanked me, rose and backed out of the room and I opened the note. It was succinct. My excitement rose as I read, “One of the trainees has gone on the run in the grounds. We hunt at 7:00 a.m.” I quickly glanced at the clock and saw it was a quarter to six.I leapt from my bed and rang for Grace. Before she appeared I scribbled a note to the Head Groom to have my Hunter saddled and ready in thirty minutes.

When Grace arrived I told her to deliver the message immediately, then return. When she reappeared I ordered her to prepare my hunting clothes. She hesitated, so I snapped at her“NOW, or you’ll feel my crop against your backside …” She dashed to my closet, opened the doors, and withdrew my starched white shirt, black riding jacket, long black skirt, and black hat and veil. She then went to the shoe closet and took out my black leather riding boots - the boots she had so lovingly cleaned and polished after their last outing. Finally she selected a crop.

She handed it to me, turned, and lifted her dress to reveal her naked behind before bending over, touching her toes.

“I’m sorry, Mistress…”

I was sorely tempted to teach her a lesson there and then, but knew that the feeling in my loins was not caused by her submission, but by the thought of the chase to come. I nevertheless gave her ten firm strokes, each of which she counted out, before telling her to rise.“Not this crop, you stupid girl, my best one … NOW!”She stood up, curtsied and smiled to herself, returned to the closet and selected my most beautiful crop. Grace handed it to me still sheathed in its black velvet cover, and I slowly withdrew it. It had a long black flexible shaft and a sparkling diamante grip, with a silver wrist chain, which sparkled in the gaslight. The tip was a wide lozenge of black leather.I continued to admire the crop as Grace dressed me, until she knelt to pull on my boots. As she finished, I turned to admire myself in the mirror. All in black, my tightly fitting jacket was pinched at the waist and flared over my hips to accentuate my perfect hourglass figure, and the long skirt emphasised my shapely legs.I lowered the veil over my eyes and strode out of the room, tapping the crop against the side of my boots.

“I want this room SPOTLESS when I return, Grace” I said over my shoulder.

I strode from the room, down the wide staircase, and across the hallway, making a final check of my appearance in the tall mirrors as I walked.I heard the baying of the pack before I reached the doors, and, as I walked down the stone steps at the front of the house, I saw Nathaniel looking magnificent in his hunting Pink and astride his Hunter. He greeted me with a wide grin, and reached down to hand me a stirrup cup from a silver salver held by a maid.

“A perfect morning for the chase, Madam” he said as he doffed his riding hat.

“Indeed, Sir. Let us hope we have good sport. Is the quarry known to me?”

“It’s young Southwark, one of the Kitchen boys. I beat the truth from another of them. Apparently he has been spreading dissent amongst the staff, has stolen some food and is trying to escape”

I laughed out loud.“Stupid creature. Does he not know that the Estate is bound by walls twenty feet high?”

At that moment Ian arrived with Paris, my white Hunter. A magnificent beast, twenty hands high, rearing his head and champing on his bit. I took the reins.

“Your hand, Ian.”

Ian looked at me with a blank expression, then bent down and cupped his hands. I placed my left foot into them and he gently lifted me up as I took my mount. I sat sidesaddle, gripping the pommel with my right leg, and reached down to stroke his cheek with my sparkling crop.

“Thank you, boy”.

I smiled sweetly at him, and I swear a smile flickered across his lips before he regained his surly expression.

The whipper -in then gathered the hounds, tossing one of the rebellious lad’s garments to them so they could gain his odour. I felt a thrill run through me as they tore it apart and began to howl. They then began to raise their noses and, in a flash, they had the scent. The whipper-in raised the horn to his lips, blew a sharp note and the pack was off. We cantered behind them, then, when they bent to the task in earnest, we began the gallop.We quickly left the gardens and were soon in the lightly wooded area around the lake. The hounds were in full flow now, and I had to use my crop to push my mount on.

“I’ll wager he is in the pine woods” Nathaniel called over to me “There’s a small collection of wood cutters hovels in there.”

He then laughed out loud, for it was as if the hounds heard him, as they slowly turned as one and headed in that direction.We entered a thicker wooded area, and I ducked down close to Paris’s neck as I felt branches brush against my shoulder. The air became heavily scented, and the sounds muffled by the carpet of pine needles. We approached a clearing and saw smoke rising from a small shed. The hounds, however, ignored this and carried on past.

Suddenly in the distance we saw a flash of white as a small creature dived from the cover of the pine and headed away to our left.

“THERE HE IS …!” I screamed out loud and, placing my head near Paris’s ear, whispered encouragement to him.

The lad stood still when he heard my scream, then, realising what was afoot, he began to run. The soft earth and tangled undergrowth meant his efforts were futile and, within minutes, he was brought down by the hounds. The whipper-in was swiftly on hand to beat off the pack, and, as we rode up, I saw that the urchin lay on the ground, his shirt torn and his chest heaving.

“Strip him and collar him …” Nathaniel commanded, and the whipper-in roughly dragged the boy to his feet and tore of his ripped shirt and shabby trousers.

He stood shivering and naked, except for a leather and steel cock cage around his loins. I watched as his hands were strapped into leather cuffs, a collar was placed around his neck and a long chain attached.

“I think the Mistress of the House should lead the recalcitrant wretch back to the Manor” Nathaniel pronounced, and the whipper-in nodded and handed me the leather handle of the leash.

“Thank you, your Lordship, for this favour” I smiled back, my voice harsh and breathless. I tapped Paris’s haunch with my crop, and we walked on back towards the Manor, the boy stumbling behind.

Ian: The Secrets of the Manor.

A shaft of moonlight crept through the hayloft window illuminating our passion as I kissed her gently on her full, soft lips. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her soft, warm body close to me burying my face in her tangled mane and inhaling her sweet, musky scent like the elixir of life.Our lips parted and I locked my eyes onto hers. Hers were half closed and her lips remained open showing her white teeth and pink tongue.

She whispered, “Ian”.

I stroked her head and then ran my hands down her back. She drew her breath in sharply, and wriggled away, crying out,

“No, Ian, please stop – it still hurts too much”.

“What, in God’s name, did they do to you?”

She shook her head. “It was nothing … they will never break me”. She said then smiled, her face brushing mine.

Our lips met again and we melted together. I rested my hand on her waist, then slowly moved it up her side to her bosom. She resisted initially, gripping my hand at the wrist, then succumbed, holding my palm tightly to her breast and moaning softly.I slipped her grip, slid my hand inside her shift and squeezed her firm, warm breast, taking the nipple between my thumb and forefinger and tweaking it hard. She cried out and her hand fell onto knee. Her palm gripped my thigh and slowly crawled up to nestle between my legs, stroking the now stretched fabric, and squeezing the ever-growing bulge. I growled hoarsely then sank my head to her neck, biting and sucking the warm flesh.

Feeling my passion rising, I broke from her and slipped off my coat, laying it on the hay, and she lay back upon it, raising her hands above her head. I reached for the hem of her shift and, as she arched her back, I raised it over her head and gasped as I revealed her smooth, honey coloured skin and firm body in the moonlight.

She smiled a big smile, and I felt an overwhelming desire to take her. I tore off my shirt, then kicked off my boots and slipped out of my trousers, feeling my erect cock flick up and twitch in anticipation. She shuffled forward towards me, parting her legs, and I caught the scent of her sex.I leant forward and grasped her ankles, raising them high in the air, then ran my hands from her ankles inside her legs, past her knees and down the inside of her thighs. When I reached her hot slippery slit, I parted the lips with my thumbs, and could resist no more. I fell forward, hungrily, locking my mouth onto her cunt, drawing my tongue the whole length and pushing it inside.

She cried out, gripping my head and locking her legs around me as I feasted upon her swollen bud. She bucked and rode my mouth, and my face became coated in her juices.

“Ian … Take me … Please…”

I grunted my assent, and grasped her ankles again, pushing her legs wide apart before taking my cock in my right hand and sliding it up and down her slit until the lips parted and the tip eased it’s way into her. I mounted her then began to ride.

A slow long deep rhythm began to develop between us and I leant forward cradling her head as she brought her hands up and around me, gripping my shoulders and drawing herself hungrily onto my cock. I pumped harder into her and she moaned as I raised myself, sat back and squeezed her breasts. I felt my orgasm pending, from the top of my head running down my back to the base of my cock.

The sound of Niamh moaning and sighing, and her hands stroking and clawing my back had me helpless and I felt my balls contract and my cock pulse. She suddenly covered her mouth to contain her scream and l came, my cock buried deep in her, bursting with hot come.I rolled over from her and we lay sweat soaked and sated in the moonlight. She rolled over to me, flung her arm over my chest and rested her head upon it.

After a few minutes, she started to sob gently.

“I hate this place, Ian … why am I here?”

“You’re here like the rest of us … a toy. A plaything for the Lord and the Mistress … and their friends.”

We sat in silence, broken by Naimh asking,

“How did you get here, Ian?”

“My Mother sold me. I have eight brothers and sisters, and when my Father was drowned at sea, she decided one less mouth to feed was the only way to survive and so she sold me to Mistress.”

“Oh … I wasn’t sold … I was kidnapped, and I’m sure there will be a search party out for me.”

I laughed out loud, and she looked at me and frowned.

“Why are you laughing?” she said sternly.

“Who would organise a search party for a London flower girl?” I chuckled aloud.

She became very silent, so I squeezed her tight and asked her what was wrong.She then told me her story.

She was from the West Indies. Her Father was a rich Irishman, the Duke of Wicklow, nephew of Queen Victoria, and her mother an African who worked on his estate. Her Father wished to see her married, and she was sent to England to finish her education before going to France to find a husband. Her title was Lady Wicklow.

When she arrived in England, things went well, but she was soon bored, the freedom of her life in the Caribbean a distant, fond memory. So she took to borrowing clothes from the serving girls and venturing out alone into the streets in disguise. It was here that she met, and was taken by his Lordship.

“You must get away from this place, Niamh.” I urged her “You don’t know what happens to people who are brought here.”

“What … tell me what you mean.” she replied.

I felt a shiver run down her spine. I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to break the news to her, then decided to tell her everything I knew.

“This place, Niamh … it’s a sort of school … we are brought here, taught … and trained. When they decide we are ready, we are auctioned off to the highest bidder to serve as slaves in their households.”

“Surely slavery has been abolished in England?” she said.

“We are not just slaves, Niamh, we are toys … objects for the pleasure of our Masters and Mistresses. They do with us what they wish to gratify their desires.”

We held each other tightly in silence, then dressed and prepared to part.

Leaving the hayloft we said our farewells and agree to try to meet again. Niamh slipped away into the darkness and I was walking back to my room above the stables when I caught sight of a movement in the shadows. I lay in wait, and then leapt upon the apparition.It fell beneath me and I held it tightly, turning it over to discover it was one of the kitchen boys, Southwark.

“Please, don’t take me back” he sobbed.

I stood above him and then turned away, calling over my shoulder,

“Good luck, you are going to need it…”

He sprang to his feet and disappeared into the darkness. I watched him leave, knowing that his absence will be only too soon noticed, the grounds are secure, and the punishment for attempting escape is severe.

Ian: The Illicit Reunion

As I watched Niamh being dragged away by his Lordship, I felt angry and frustrated at my helplessness. I knew I could most likely beat him in a fair fight, but also knew that would never happen. His position, wealth and power versus a stable lad? You know the odds.

I had seen this same scene so many times at the Manor. Girls arriving and being taken in to be trained. This time was different though. She was beautiful. The way she defied him - calmly at first, then vehemently if she was not obeyed - made me think there was more to her than the street girl his Lordship claimed she was.

She carried herself gracefully without being haughty or vain and her skin was the colour of clear honey. Her long, dark, curly hair hinted at a wildness, yet this was tempered by her big, beautiful, almond shaped brown eyes, with the colour of peat and the warmth of brandy, and her broad smile which lit up the whole kitchen garden when we spoke.

I returned to the stables, and carried on my duties as my anger slowly subsided to be replaced by a nagging worry for Niamh's welfare.

It must have been an hour later and I was working grooming the horses when the Mistress stormed into the stable. "Prepare Trojan for me, Ian. I have to ride"
"Yes, Mistress."

As I saddled Trojan, a black stallion with a fiery temperament, I watched the Mistress from the corner of my eye. She was pacing backwards and forwards and seemed to be talking to herself. I caught the word "Slut" and my ears pricked up.

"is there anything wrong, Mistress? I enquired. She looked at me glaringly, then her expression softened.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Ian", she smiled and, taking the reins in her left hand, she stroked my cheek with her right. I couldn't help but feel nervous and flinched to her touch.

"What's wrong boy?" she asked, I hesitated to answer, did she know I was with Niamh this morning? I decided she did not and took a risk. "Have you seen the new girl, Mistress?"
"What? That slut!" she screamed and slapped my face. I could feel the sting linger and then heard her say: "You're my property boy. If I find you've even spoken to her, you will find yourself caged in the manner of the other male servants and she will find herself on the streets in a far worse state than she was found."

She lifted my chin with her crop and violently kissed me on the mouth, then holding my head up high she fixed her cold blue eyes on mine and smiled. "Remember what I told you Ian." She sneered, Trojan reared and she rode off.

I went about my daily duties as quickly and as efficiently as I always did, my mind distracted by thoughts of Niamh and the words of the Mistress. I knew that I had to see her again, even if it was to say good bye. When I finished with my work, I sat to write her a note, a note telling her that I wished to see her. Delivering this note will be dangerous, not for me but for her, I am almost sure that the Mistress and his Lordship will have a watchful eye on her. But I have to write it and she has to read it.

Once I'd written my note, I slept fitfully and, when awake, ached for her presence and hungered for her smile. As dawn broke I had devised my plan.

I entered the Refectory with the note folded and concealed in my sleeve, took my seat, then slowly looked across and down the row of in-house servants. She wasn't there! I couldn't believe it, and stared at the empty space at table. In fact two empty spaces, the blonde haired girl was also missing. Just as I thought my chance had gone, they walked in and the blonde haired girl, her name was Grace, seemed to be supporting and half carrying Niamh.

Niamh shuffled to her seat and was eased into it, in obvious pain, by Grace who then proceeded to assist her to eat her breakfast, feeding her with the love, care and attention a mother shows her baby.

I watched her ... my heart broke for her. God knows what they had done to break her defiance.

Then the breakfast was cleared away, and the servants all rose to begin their duties. As Niamh stood supporting herself on the chair and Grace, I saw my chance. I quickly and stealthily moved behind her, slipped the note down my sleeve to my palm and pressed my hand to hers. It took a moment before her eyes slowly turned and raised to meet mine, then fell to her hand. She then quickly glanced back at me and a slight smile crossed her lips as her fingers closed around the paper. She lifted her hand to her face then coughed, letting the note fall down the front of her uniform. Grace saw this, gave a look of horror, then conspiratorial pleasure, then whisked Niamh away.

The rest of the day was mundane and each minute seemed to last an hour, each hour an eternity. At 9 o'clock I had finished settling the horses and cleaning the tack. I washed and dressed and left my room above the stables and walked across the yard in the moonlight to the back of the Manor, across the kitchen garden to the Chapel. I sat under the old yew tree and waited.

The clock struck the quarter hour, then the half hour. There was no question of whether she would come, it was when. I knew she would arrive when she could. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I saw a flicker of movement near the door to the kitchen, then nothing. I was just convincing myself it had been a trick of the light, perhaps a cloud flitting across the moon, when a voice from behind me whispered "It helps if you stay awake..." It was Niamh.

"I knew you'd come..."
"Of course I'd come..."

I stood up to embrace her, but she slowly backed away saying "Not here, I'm afraid someone may here this ..." and opened her dark cloak to reveal the silver bell on the collar at her throat.

"I know a place - the hayloft over the barn .." I said.

So we decided to leave and reconvene our forbidden re-union elsewhere. We went to the barn, climbed the ladder to the hayloft and embraced.

Niamh: The Red and the Black

I was dragged, stumbling and sobbing, from the Kitchen Garden back to the House. I wanted so desperately to cry out, but did not wish to give the brute the satisfaction.

As we reached the steps, I quickly grabbed the balustrade and clung on for dear life.

"Let go Slut" he growled through gritted teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing.
"Fuck you..."

"I see you've learnt nothing, Slut ..." he snarled, then surprisingly released his grip. I thought I had finally touched a particle of humanity within him, but quickly realised my naivety.

He swiftly unsnapped his fine leather belt and withdrew it from his waistband. With no further ado he began to whip me, firstly with the plain end then, when this proved ineffective, he used the buckle. Painful blows rained down on my back and arms until I could hold on no longer, and my arms fell to my side. I felt shame for releasing my grip so swiftly.

"Stand up, Slut" he commanded.

I slowly rose, shakily, to my feet and he slipped the belt around my neck like a collar. He used the free length of the belt like a leash. With no further words being spoken, I was led like a dog into the House. Those servants who were present, swiftly averted their gaze and bowed their heads as we passed. They parted like the Red Sea for Moses, and I felt my humiliation grow and my face flush. What was to become of me?

I was pulled along the hallway and we stopped before a large double door. A footman stood by the door, opened it slowly and I was hauled into a dark room which was lit by a shaded light in the middle. I saw this was a games room, and the light was shining down on a large billiards table. As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I realised we were not alone. I could make out smoke rising from cigars, and I heard a ripple of laughter - men's laughter, but then a woman's voice spoke.

"Well, well. You must be Slut..." she said in a slow controlled manner. Her voice was husky, and sent shivers up my spine. "What do you have in mind, Nathaniel?"

I quickly realised this was the name of the beast.

"I thought an introduction to the Table would be appropriate, Celeste ..." he chuckled, and the men roared their approval. God knows what this meant.

The men rose, and gathered round me. They grasped me and flung me on the billiards table, laying me face down on the green baize - one each for my hands and feet so that I was spreadeagled. I felt soft hands run down my back, heard a woman's laugh and my skirts were pulled up above my waist. I wriggled but resistance was futile. I flushed as I felt the cool air on my thighs and buttocks.

I heard a rattle and instinctively knew that the brute was selecting a billiards cue from the rack on the wall. I felt a tug on the belt around my neck, and looked up to see her stood at the end of the table holding my leash. A devilish grin was etched on her face as my eyes rose to meet hers. A cold round implement made it's way up my inner thigh and stopped at my furrow, I tensed and clenched on to the table, if I wasn't scared before, I was now.

"Please don't." I began to sob, reduced to bargaining seemed to be my only hope. Another roar of laughter echoed throughout the room.
"I do believe she hasn't yet been broken in, Nathaniel." Celeste purred. The round implement pushed forward slightly and stopped again. I felt my face become wet as I started to shed tears.
"I do believe you're correct Celeste." A comment which prompted further laughter from the assembly. I wriggled and writhed to escape what I feared would happen, the implement crept forward and I was soon penetrated. A cheer rose as I screamed something so blood curdling I was sure everyone in the house must hear, but no one came to my aid. I looked directly into her eyes for some measure of sympathy, but there lay nothing just a cold smile and a wide eyed gaze of pleasure.

"You surprise me, for a slut I'd expect you to be a lot looser than that."
"I think she MUST have been a virgin Nathaniel." She giggled. At this moment, I wished I was dead. The implement began to rape me, of my pride and sap my will as it was pressed deeper inside of me. She leant forward and held my face up. "What do you have to say for yourself, Slut?"
"My name is Niamh." I spat at her. She dropped my face and it slammed down on the table, scratched by the felt. She stormed over to the beast and the implement was extracted from me.

"I will teach you not to speak to me like that, who do you think you are?" She screamed.
"As I told that animal, I'm the Queen of Sheba, if only you knew!" and with that, I felt the heavy blow from the cue on my backside.
"You...are...a...slut...and...nothing...more!" She spat in between strokes. The pain was monumental and more then I could stand, I almost passed out. Laceration upon laceration was etched upon my naked behind. Finally, she stopped, and the men released me. I was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. A bell was rung and shortly afterwards the doors were opened to allow a petite woman in white to enter.

"Henrietta, take her to the dormitory and deal with her wounds." The woman commanded as the men retook their seats and carried on talking and smoking as if nothing had happened. The scene returned to one of a respectable English country house. Before Henrietta escorted me out, I was yanked again by the woman holding my leash.

"You will best do as you're told Slut. We only tolerate the presence of compliant servants, insolent ones are trained to be compliant. I will be watching you, and to ensure that we know where you are at all times-" She stopped for a moment and unfastened the belt from around my neck. For a split second I felt free but the feeling only lasted but a second as a collar was placed around my neck. It had an acorn sized silver bell attached to it, which chimed against my throat when the collar was fastened on. "You will wear this collar from now on Slut. Woe betide you if you free yourself from it." She warned as I was led, staggering, from the room.

Niamh: Welcome to your new home, Slut

I must have either slept or passed out during the journey. My eyes opened and I was face down on the floor of the carriage, my hands bound behind my back and my ankles tied together. I tried to cry out but soon remembered I was gagged.

Suddenly the carriage drew to a halt, the door was flung open and I was hauled out and dropped onto the gravel driveway. Firm hands roughly dragged me to my feet, and I stood facing the well-dressed, arrogant bastard who had kidnapped - yes - kidnapped me.

"Hello, slut ... welcome to your new place of employment ... I'm sure I'll be very happy having you here..." He sneered.

I tried to speak but the gag prevented me. Needless to say, it would not have been either complementary or respectfully grateful to him for his hospitality.

I was pushed forward and shuffled toward the large mansion. I saw a line of servants silently standing, heads bowed awaiting instructions. From this line a stocky fair haired lad strode forward and confidently took the reins of the horses, unshackled them from the carriage and lead them away. He whistled until ordered not to, then smiled and carried on anyway. He brazenly looked me up and down and smiled. A shiver was sent up my spine as I watched him leave, then coarse hands came up behind me, gripped my jaw and planted my face forward.

"Eyes forward, slut. I want you to greet everyone." He began. His voice was like poison to my ears and the more I heard the more I wanted to claw out his eyes and make him eat them. He then came close to my ear and whispered: "I know that it must be hurting you and if you promise to stay silent, then I will remove the gag." Desperate to relieve my aching mouth, I nodded. With a stern tug, the knot at the back of my head came loose and the scarf fell away. I spat the gag out of my mouth and with heated eyes, I glared at him. His response? An airy chuckle.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to a new member of staff...Slut."
"Niamh... My name is Niamh." A murmur rose from the line of servants. He turned to me and again, slapped my face, I fell and was hauled to my feet by the carriage driver.
"Niamh does not exist anymore... You are now slut and nothing more. If you want your name back, you will have to earn it!" He growled.
"Mrs. Morgan!" He called and a buxom dark haired, severe looking woman stepped forward.

"Yes, your Lordship." She replied.
"As house keeper, I want you to take slut, make her presentable and instruct her in the rules of the house. I expect her to be useful as soon as possible." Mrs. Morgan looked at me disdainfully, then replied: "Yes, your Lordship."

Before I was lead away, the driver untied my ankles and Mrs. Morgan shoved me off towards the house much to the amusement of the other servants.

As I was led through the mansion, stumbling and trying to retain my balance, I couldn't help but cry softly to myself in fear of others seeing it.

"Tears won't save you here my dear." Mrs. Morgan smiled as I was taken to a dark, far corner of the house. She stopped in front of a door that I felt sure I wouldn't dare open, even if I was curious. When she opened the door, it was to a dormitory with rows of iron beds and a washroom at the end.
"Get undressed!" Mrs. Morgan commanded, I just stood there with a blank expression on my face as if to mock her. She swiftly grasped my hair pulling my head back. "You will learn life is easier with obedience." Realising that my position was presently precarious to say the least, I undressed. Mrs. Morgan then lead me to the washroom, handed me soap and a towel and watched me wash myself. I blushed at the humiliation of it all but I had a feeling that there was more to come. When I had washed and dried myself she handed me a chemise of rough white cotton, a pair of black woollen stockings and a pair of black lace up leather boots. These I quickly donned and she pointed to an unmade bed and small cabinet.

"This is your home now. Get used to it... slut." She grinned, turned and left the room. I was left on my own and I sat on the bed in silence and cried.


The next morning I awoke to the loud chortling of a pale faced blonde who hovered over me.
"Morning, slut ... or is it Niamh?" She smiled a smile that would have melted ice, she was like a ray of sun beaming down on me.
"It's Niamh." I said, wiping the sleep off my eyes.
"Hullo, I'm Grace. I'm here to guide you through your first day. Your clothes are in the cabinet and breakfast is in ten minutes so you best be up now." She took a step back as I rose and looked around to see girls getting dressed, talking and laughing - if there is such a thing in this place.

I quickly dressed and tied my curly hair back, tucking it under the white starched cap, then followed Grace out of the door to the refectory. Long wooden tables were laid for breakfast and the staff were all seated according to their rank. I scanned the assembly ... and I then saw him. The stable lad who had smiled at me when I arrived. We were sat at different tables, he with the outside staff and myself with the housekeeping staff, though I watched him throughout breakfast. He either didn't notice me, or was very good at pretending not to. He was fair-skinned, with olive green eyes. His fair hair, short and wavy, with strands that fell over his face. He had very strong arms, but gentle looking hands. His coy smile enraptured me the first time I saw it, but it was not aimed at me this morning. I stared down into my bowl of gruel, but was not compelled to eat it. Grace saw this, and hissed "Eat it, Niamh, you'll get nothing else until Supper..." The decision was made for me as the dishes were quickly whisked away and we rose to start the days chores. As we left the refectory, the Stable lad walked past me and I swear he deliberately brushed against my arm. Grace also saw this and whispered to me "Watch yourself with him, Niamh. He's the favourite of the Mistress of the House. Girls have been beaten and sacked, for even looking at him".

So onto my daily chores. My first task was to gather vegetables for the kitchen. I was handed a large basket and instructed to go to the garden and pick only the finest and fresh. Going about my work, I knelt over to pick a carrot when a voice behind me said "That's bad one - we feed those to the horses..."

Surprised, I let go of the stem and sprang to my feet. My eyes were caught and held by two beautiful olive green ones, and a crooked warm smile. I blushed.
"I cannot talk to you ... you're ... outside staff...." I stammered.
"But you're outside now too, so that must make us equal..." He grinned. "By the way, my name is Ian"
"My name is Niamh"
"I know ... your reputation precedes you" He chuckled softly. "It's a rare day when someone answers his Lordship in such a brazen manner"

My face reddened, partly with the warmth of the sun, but also with a feeling growing within me.
"This is my first day. I should return before I get into any trouble..."

Suddenly a voice barked out "YOU TWO....What the hell do you think you're doing...?"

A voice oh so familiar. The Lord of the Manor strode up to us, grabbed my arm violently and firmly and held me, telling the stable lad to return to his duties. The lad hesitated, but walked slowly away facing us. His Lordship threw me down on my knees.

"You are to be punished for this, slut, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to discipline you myself" With that he grabbed my arm and dragged me back into the mansion.

The Master: The Lord of the Manor's Tale...

I rode my carriage from Paddington Railway Terminus towards my Club in Pall Mall.

The capital was its usual fetid frantic self. Purposeful bodies pressed together, colliding and bouncing away - their eager determined souls rushing forward, in the cloying heat, to .... what? The air is musky with the aromas of Empire - cumin, coriander, cinnamon - as immigrants of every colony and province rubbed shoulders in the narrow streets and alleyways. Costermongers, flowersellers, matchgirls ... they pressed against the carriage door tendering their wares, and I dismissed them with a flick of the wrist until I heard...

"... and FUCK YOU too...."
"STOP THE CARRIAGE, my man....NOW!" I barked at the Driver.

The carriage abruptly drew to a halt, and I pushed the window down and looked back. I saw a dishevelled creature defiantly staring back at me, and judged, by the attire, that this was a young woman. I angrily called her over, and she approached, fixing her almond brown eyes on mine. She had a defiant, haughty air, despite her drab clothes. I eyed her up and down then, with disdain, sneered at her "What did you say to me, slut?".

"Fuck you..."

She held my gaze and her expression was one of cold insolence, the like of which I had never seen from any street girl before. I smiled and leant out of the carriage. As her face met mine, I dropped my arm then viciously brought my open palm round and slapped her hard across the face. She staggered back and fell. After gathering herself, she turned and rose, straightening her skirts and blouse. She touched her lips with her fingers, and saw I had drawn blood. Her chin rose, and her eyes met mine and flared...

"Fuck ....
you..."

I stared at her, then burst out laughing... "Or you will do what, slut...?" I taunted her.
"I'm NOT a slut...... sir...!" she spat back.
"I suppose you think you're the Queen of Sheba, slut..."
"I do, so bow." She mocked.

My initial distaste of her was swiftly replaced by an intriguing desire to own her spirit, a spirit I had begun to harbour a desire to break. "Are you employed slut ... other than in being insolent to your betters?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away... "No". I smiled inside. The first step was taken.

"In that case, you may be interested to know that I have a position vacant in my household for a cheap serving slut ... Would you interested in taking up a position beneath me?" I smirked.

A long pause ensued before she calmly replied... "No"

She turned and began to walk slowly away, and, as I watched her go, I said softly to my driver "I want her ... take her" He nodded and leapt down. He caught her, his muscular arms scooped her up and his hand clamped over her mouth strangling her scream. She thrashed about as he opened the carriage door and flung her inside. He then locked the door, remounted the drivers seat, and quickly whipped the horses into action and we sped off back towards Paddington and a train back to the country. She kicked, bit and spat before I had her under control by taking off my belt and binding her wrists behind her back and tying her ankles with my MCC tie. She emitted such base language, I was forced to ask ... " Are you going to persist in that foul tirade, or will I have to gag you ... slut?"

"Fuck you." She had it coming now, I reached into my top pocket to grab my silk handkerchief, rolled it into a ball and forced into her insolent mouth. I then took my white silk scarf and, pushing her head forward, wrapped it around her mouth tying it around the back of her head. Her eyes blazed defiantly, whilst tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She looked magnificent. Magnificent, bound; gagged; yet still very defiant. I felt a warm surge pulse through my loins as I thought of the pleasures ahead as I will tame this little minx.