Catherine's Letters (10 page)

The body which was thus exposed to me, inch by inch, far exceeded my greatest expectations. As I wrote earlier, she was a short, chubby girl, but nonetheless beautiful for it. As I took the shift from her she moved her arms to cover her chest and lower abdomen, but not before I had taken the opportunity to glimpse her most secret charms. Her spot was covered with the most luxurious growth of curly red hair, extending from the apex of her thighs, to reach almost halfway to her tummy button. And her bubbies! Much as she tried to hide them with her left arm stretched across her chest, her right hand shielding the modesty of her hairy spot, they were far too big to be hidden by a single limb. Her bubbies were huge, Connie! I had not realised how the strict and starched uniforms kept the girls,’ figures in restraint. No wonder poor Molly was now crying tears of shame for having to expose herself so rudely to another, albeit a woman who was in every way her social superior.

‘Now,’ I told her, ‘we will see if you have mastered the basics of cutlery, an area in which you have been found wanting so often before.’ Crossing the room to my chest of drawers, I indicated the silverware which had been laid randomly on the top of the chest, and turned to face a very puzzled-looking Molly. ‘You will arrange them in the correct order, Molly, and for each mistake you make you will receive two strokes of the cane.’

Her look of bewilderment turned to one of horror. ‘Please, ma’am, I’ve not been that bad, and I’ll try to do it right in the future! But please don’t use the cane on my poor bottom – it’s so sore already from where you smacked it!’

‘Then you must make sure you get it right,’ I told her. ‘If you make no mistakes, and prove to me that you know what each piece of cutlery is for, then you will be allowed to dress and leave. But if you don’t …’ At this point, I crossed to the bed and picked up the cane. Poor Molly gasped and wailed.

‘Oh no, ma’am, I can’t take it!’ For a moment I feared she might run screaming and naked from the room, but she seemed to compose herself enough for me to carry on. Pointing toward the pile of cutlery with the cane, I indicated that there was no point to her procrastinating any further. With a sob of defeat, she plodded to the chest of drawers.

The task I had set her necessitated the use of her hands. To begin with, she tried to use only one, all the time keeping her right hand cupped over her spot. This meant that her left arm had to be uncurled from her bubbies, allowing me an excellent view of those bounteous fruits. They swung gloriously from side to side as she set to the job, the cherry-red tips standing proudly from the russet-freckled skin. They were indeed in perfect proportion to the rest of her frame, her bottom and thighs also being heavily set. It was all I could do to stop myself pulling this delicious girl back over my lap for another spanking.

I felt Molly was taking far too long over what should have been a simple enough task for a competent domestic maid. Moving to her left, I pointed the cane at her once again. ‘Come, Molly, you should have finished by now! What is taking you so long, girl?’ She became somewhat flustered and began to work with both hands, abandoning modesty in favour of finishing her task. This, of course, allowed me another glimpse of her hairy spot, and I could not help but wonder what lay within that overgrown forest of Venus.

‘That’s long enough!’ I barked. ‘Stand back and let me see how you’ve done.’ Molly obeyed, putting her arms and hands back across her private regions. I studied the cutlery as she had presented it to me. Sure enough, she had made a series of foolish and careless errors, possibly because of the duress I had placed her under. Nonetheless, she would still be punished for it.

I turned to face the trembling, tearful nude. ‘Molly, you’ve placed the fish knife where the steak knife should be. You have also mixed up the soup and dessert spoons. By my reckoning that is four mistakes which, even you will be able to calculate, means eight strokes of the cane.’

Molly stared at me in horror. ‘Eight, ma’am? Oh no, surely not! Please, ma’am, why not just spank me again?’

‘I told you that you would be caned, and so caned you shall be. Now, bend over the back of the chair and present your bottom to me for punishment.’ She must have had no fight left in her, for she simply stumbled to the chair in the centre of the room and unfolded her arms to bend into position. With both hands resting on the seat and her back curved to present her wonderful posterior to me, her breasts hung like a pair of turnips on a market stall. Her whole body trembled and shook every now and again, as she stifled a sob.

My own hands were trembling as I took up my place on her left-hand side and lined my cane up against the flesh which was to be my target. My blood coursed through my veins; at that moment I understood the sense of power Miss Prior felt when I was bent in the same position at her bidding. I lifted the cane and held my breath, before slashing it down across Molly’s cheeks.

It landed diagonally, more so than I had intended, but still completely across her bottom. She let out a howl of pain, and her whole body jerked forward, but to give the girl credit she did not try to rise or escape. I allowed her a few seconds to compose herself, before landing the cane again. This time it cracked home in almost a perfect line along the centre of those lovely big buttocks, making them wobble deliciously. She gave voice to her feelings, but still did not try to flee.

I continued caning her, trying as best I could to spread the strokes across the large surface area which I had at my disposal. I felt a tinge of disappointment when I reached the seventh, knowing I only had one more to give, and wondering if there was any other pretext on which I could sentence Molly to further punishment. As I delivered the final blow, the unfortunate girl unwittingly furnished me with just what I was seeking.

As with all the other strokes, she screamed when it landed, but this time she gave full vent to her feelings. ‘Ow! Ooh! Oh God, that hurts! Oh my God!’

I am, as you know, Connie, a very pious girl, and could not allow such an oath to go unpunished. ‘Molly,’ I said sternly, ‘no matter how much pain you are in from this entirely justified punishment, taking the lord’s name in vain cannot be tolerated! Stay where you are!’

‘Oh ma’am, please, not more caning! I’m sorry, truly I am, but it hurts so, I just could not help myself!’

‘No Molly, I will not cane you any more.’ Any relief she felt would have been short-lived, as I added, ‘You will be flogged with this.’ Putting the cane on the bed, I picked up the martinet and brandished it in front of the bending girl, who raised her head to see what fate now awaited her. Her eyes widened when she saw what I was holding.

‘Oh ma’am, please don’t whip me! Not with that thing! It looks horrid!’ She might not have known the correct name for the martinet, but she had anticipated its ferocity quickly enough.

‘Do not make such a fuss,’ I instructed her. ‘I shall give you a dozen, and then maybe you will learn not to use the language of the gutter in this house.’ I returned to my position and prepared to give the sobbing girl her just desserts.

I raised the martinet to my shoulder and tensed my arms. Then I brought it down across Molly’s bottom, which wriggled delightfully at the impact. She let out a long, low moan, but otherwise she made no comment. At the second stroke she began to roll her hips from side to side, and on the third her back dipped up and down. Because of this, and the movement of her thighs, I was treated to a view of what lay between them.

The first thing which caught my eye was her bottom hole. Small, brown, and crinkled, it seemed hard to believe it could perform the function for which nature had intended it. My eye wandered down, and I glimpsed her nether lips. A deeper red than the hair on her head, they seemed to be open in a bizarre vertical smile. The hairs at the base of her sex were far sparser than the thick thatch which guarded its front, allowing me a much clearer view, and Connie, I do believe the girl was moist down there! Inexperienced as I am in these matters, I could not help but wonder whether this was caused by her exertions under the whip, or if she, like myself when I am in the schoolroom with Miss Prior, drew a secret excitement from her predicament.

I flicked the whip down again, the tails landing with a most satisfactory sound upon poor Molly, who wriggled again, once more giving me a delightful view of her hidden treasures. I confess, Connie, I was beginning to get most excited, as I forced the poor girl to expose herself to me in the cruellest manner. The martinet I found much easier to wield than the cane, its shortness allowing for greater accuracy. The thongs also spread themselves in a wonderful display, covering a wide area of the penitent’s bottom.

Nevertheless, all good things must end, as the proverb says, and it was with a heavy heart I delivered the 12th and final lash to Molly, who was by now crying her eyes out. I threw the martinet onto the bed, alongside the cane. Molly did not move, possibly afraid of bringing further chastisement upon herself should she do anything more to offend me. For my own part, Connie, I simply stared at her exposed privates. I do not know if what Miss Prior does to me after a whipping is the norm for punishments between adult women, but I could not help myself. I reached out the hand which had lately wielded the whip and tentatively touched Molly.

She did not, as one might expect, leap up in protest, and it was clear I had broken her spirit and could now do as I wished with her. Thus emboldened, I pushed a little harder, discovering that her secret canal was indeed wet. It opened to my delicate touch, as Molly gasped in shock and, maybe, not a little pleasure.

I simply had to take a closer look. Crouching behind her, without removing my fingers, I peered intently into the secret place. Stretching it a little further open I saw that it was indeed a treasure trove. Oh Connie, when next you visit we must play this game! I long to look inside your spot, as I am sure it is as beautiful as Molly’s. And I would be only too pleased to return the compliment for you!

But I digress, cousin. Fascinated as I was by Molly’s entrance, I pushed my fingers further inside. She groaned and I saw her hands grip the chair seat much tighter than when she had been whipped. Then my fingers made contact with a small, hard piece of flesh, and this contact made Molly give out a cry of abandon such as I had not heard from her before. Knowing that I had discovered her organ of female pleasure (as I have, of course, discovered mine, with Miss Prior’s assistance), I continued to flick, driving Molly to heights of pleasure far greater than the depths of pain I had taken her down to.

Eventually, of course, it had to reach a conclusion. Her whole body stiffened, she let out one long scream, then her legs buckled and she fell to the floor, my fingers sliding out of her as she went. She lay there for several minutes, a spent and exhausted heap, until I decided it was time for her to return to her own bed. Lifting the marked girl gently, I put her back on rather unsteady feet, kissing her and taking advantage of her confused state to cup a bare breast in each hand. They were wonderful, Connie, warm and soft to the touch, and so big and yielding. Her nipples were swollen and pressed into my palms. Sliding my hands around her body, I then ran them down her back until I could squeeze her tortured cheeks. At this she gave a cry of anguish, as I reignited the fire she must have been feeling in her bottom. I kissed her again. ‘Hush Molly,’ I told her, ‘you will be a good girl from now on, won’t you?’

‘Oh yes, ma’am,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘I’ll be ever so good! You won’t need to whip me again, I promise!’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ I replied. ‘Now, get dressed, go to your room, and we will hear no more about it.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, evidently delighted she was to be allowed to escape. She quickly pulled her shift back on, then her dressing gown, hiding from my view her wonderful nudity. As the door closed behind her I threw myself on my bed and my hand stole beneath my own nightdress, anxious for some of the treatment I had given her. It was only minutes before I set sail on a sea of bliss, inspired by the memories of my punishment of the lovely Molly.

I arose early this morning and successfully returned the cane and martinet to Miss Prior’s desk. Molly seemed unusually quiet over breakfast, and Father commented on her being somewhat red-eyed. I said I believed she had been crying for homesickness again, something she was wont do when she first came to us.

Do you think me very wicked, Connie? I am sure Molly benefited from her session with me, and I know I will be far more accepting of the punishments Miss Prior gives me, having had the experience of handing one out. And to have total control of another, to spank, whip, and cane her, force her to strip and then drive her to spend – oh Connie, you have no idea how thrilling that is!

But it is getting late, and my candle is burning low. I must go now, and promise I will write again soon.

Your loving cousin, Catherine.

*               *               *

Adrienne sat back, breathless. That had been one hell of a story, and what a role reversal for Catherine! Up until now Adrienne had identified with her as the submissive victim of Miss Prior, but now she saw her other side, and wondered what it must have felt like to be Molly. Of course, a simple serving girl would have no choice but to accept whatever punishment a harsh and haughty mistress handed out – there was no welfare state or employment tribunal to hear unfair dismissal cases in those days – but the poor girl must have been shocked beyond belief by being ordered to strip, then being brought to orgasm by someone she would have thought of as a respectable upper class woman. She wondered if it had ever happened again, and if it did, had Catherine written to Connie about it? She began to muse over how the story might have been told by Molly, and an idea took shape in her head. She picked up the phone and dialled Maria.

The following evening she stood nervously in the hall of her own flat. This had seemed such an exciting idea when she’d sketched out the scenario with Maria. She had loved the idea, and went along with Adrienne’s fantasy 100 per cent, only adding the odd refinement.