His Bride's Shameful Training by Emily Tilton

Author:Emily Tilton [Tilton, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2018-05-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Celia discovered that she didn’t mind the idea of being punished by the doctor rather than by Sir Henry. Something in the doctor’s measured approach appealed to a part of her mind that the maid had never, she thought now, truly appreciated before: a faculty interested in, even fascinated by, the way people behaved under the influence of their emotions and especially their secret yearnings—above all the bodily cravings under whose power Celia could see so clearly that her mistress and the man who desired her for his bride labored now.

She watched with some trepidation as the physician got his cane—shorter than the one Sir Henry had unexpectedly produced from behind the clothespress but also, to Celia’s dismay, a little thicker—from his black bag. When he turned back to look at her with his knowing smile, though, she felt well confirmed in her impression that though she would not mind having her maidenhead taken by the baronet, she would rather be flogged by Dr. Brown.

Celia liked Sir Henry well enough, certainly, and she felt nearly reconciled already to the notions he had disclosed concerning his future household arrangements, as unusual as they might seem from the standpoint of conventional morality. The housekeeper, Mrs. Graves, had made very clear to her that girls who went into service needed to keep their ideas of matrimony well in check. Celia did not suppose that the dignified senior servant had meant that the new maid must prepare herself to have regular bottom-fucking from her mistress’ husband, but the truth of the matter presented only an extreme confirmation of the housekeeper’s advice: a girl in service must make her mind up to please her employer. It appeared that Celia Deaver would have to please Sir Henry in ways Mrs. Graves would frown upon, the lordly cock thrusting in wherever the baronet deigned to impose it upon his wife’s ladies’ maid—but the principle remained the same.

Too, life with Nell and Celia’s horrid uncle had put paid to any foolish sentimentality concerning romance well before Miss Leticia Stewart made her advent in the country girl’s life. Naughtiness after the whipping stool, kissing Nell’s cunny and learning to touch her own, combined it would seem with a naturally contemplative character, had brought out in Celia the calculation that had caused her to enforce Miss Leticia’s attendance down between her maid’s thighs. Now, her pussy bare and needy but her thoughts also dwelling with the greatest interest on how it all worked, this business of natural men and submissive young ladies, Celia thought that a scientific whipping from Dr. Brown himself might well prove instructive.

To her left, their faces almost touching, Miss Leticia waited for Sir Henry to begin whipping the proud bottom he had made her present for correction. The haughty girl breathed roughly through her nose, and little whimpers escaped her lips as the baronet stroked her bottom-cheeks to prepare her for her punishment. “Please… p-please…” she stammered. “Please do it!”

Celia could not help wondering at the fuss her mistress made about having her backside flogged.

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