Indecent: 15 Erotic Victorian Romance Story Box Set (21 page)

Teach
Me

Chapter 1

Lord Edward Carrington looked out of
his drawing room window and sighed. “What are we to do with our daughter?” He
turned to his wife who continued knitting by the fireside without replying.

Outside Amelia was berating one of the gardeners for having
the temerity to be standing in her way when she rode her favourite horse across
the immaculate lawns and through the flowerbeds, tearing up great clumps of
turf and leaving churned up earth in her wake. Even with the window closed to
keep out the spring chill, Lord Carrington could imagine what she was saying,
it was always the same.

“How dare you?” she would yell. “Don’t you know I’m the
daughter of a Lord and your superior in every respect?”

The gardener would tug at his cap and mutter an apology but
that was never enough for her. She wanted them grovelling before she was
willing to let them go.

“Next time I shall not pull up on the reigns and if you are
crushed under Teddy’s hooves and broken into a thousand pieces it will be your
own fault!”

Lord Carrington walked across to the liquor cabinet and
pulled out a bottle of his favourite brandy.

“Before noon dear?” his wife asked, raising her eyebrows at
him.

“We must do something about her,” he replied, pouring out a
glass and circling it in his hand, taking a long lingering sniff of the amber
fluid before slumping into his favourite armchair. “She is incorrigible.”

Lady Elizabeth set down her knitting as the fire spat behind
her. “We could try boarding school again?”

Lord Carrington took a sip of brandy, wincing as he espied
Amelia continuing to yell at the poor gardener. “She’d only escape and come
home. How many times has she done that so far?”

“I stopped counting after ten but she’s older now. She’s
nineteen, old enough to start acting like an adult, not a petulant child.”

“Don’t remind me. I am not looking forward to the birthday
ball tonight.” He shuddered and set down his glass. “Perhaps we should marry
her off.”

“Edward dear, I am very fond of you but sometimes your ideas
are of the more far-fetched variety. Who on earth would want to take on a
spoiled little brat like our daughter?”

Lord Carrington sighed and got to his feet, digging out his
pocketbook. “I’m going to give another pound note to the gardener. I only hope
we find some way to curtail her tantrums or we’ll soon be ruined and the staff
will be as rich as Solomon.”

“Must you dear?”

“They threatened to leave en mass after her last outburst in
the kitchen, pouring scalding hot soup onto the chef like that. I don’t know
where she gets it from.”

“You mollycoddled her from a young age Edward. Never
disciplined her, never set her straight, let her have anything she asked for.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He said from the doorway. “Still,
what’s past is past. All we can hope to do now is improve her future.”

That night the largest room in the mansion was alive with
people. Normally a deathly quiet echoing chamber, it came into its own during
the balls and parties held by Lord Carrington.

Amelia stood at one side of the room with a scowl on her
face and her arms folded whilst Lord and Lady Carrington waited nervously to
see just what she was furious about this time.

“It’s my party, I should get to dance with whoever I wish.”

“It’s whomever dear,” her mother smiled.

“I don’t care a fig for your grammar. I want to dance with
Jeremy and that fat pig from Chertswell House is hogging him all to herself.”

Lady Carrington looked across the dancefloor. There was
Jeremy Hundell, a stout gentleman of twenty four in which she could see little
reason for such levels of interest. Was it solely because he seemed to be
enjoying himself with Jemima Chertswell? “Perhaps you could have the next dance
with him my dear,” she smiled.

“I don’t want the next dance. I don’t want a damned party. I
want to be left alone!” She stamped her feet and stormed towards the double
doors at the far end of the hall. Looking behind her at Jeremy as she went, she
marched straight into the outstretched hand of one of the guests. His drink
slipped from his grip and the contents fell straight down the front of Amelia’s
dress.

She let out a shriek of disgust and raised her hand as if to
strike the stranger. Even the band stopped playing as her voice echoed around
the hall. “You have ruined my dress sir!” she screamed.

Nobody heard what the man said in response but her arm fell
limply by her side almost instantly. He leaned forwards and whispered something
in her ear and she seemed to quiver in response. Lady Carrington turned to her
husband and frowned. Had their daughter actually backed down? This was unprecedented.
Lord Carrington nodded back to her, as if to say, ‘I know, we should hire this
fellow as her tutor immediately.’

Amelia passed out of the hall but slowly and with her head
down. She did not look back as a groom opened the door for her, closing it
after she’d left. The band struck up once more as Lord Carrington began trying
to weave his way through the mass of bodies to converse with the stranger who
had managed to subdue his daughter. Look whichever way he might, the gentleman
could not be found.

In bed that night, Lord and Lady Carrington spoke at length
about the evening’s festivities. “We must speak to Amelia in the morning and
find out what he said to her,” said Lord Carrington.

“I doubt she will tell you.”

“I am her father. She must obey me.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You seem to labour under a
misunderstanding of who your daughter is.”

“Nonetheless if she can be subdued once, it can happen
again. We could have a pleasant child once more, a credit to the family, a
delight to be around!”

“Calm down dear. First you must find the gentleman, second
he must agree to assist us and third, Amelia must acquiesce to the treatment
required.”

Chapter 2

When Amelia awoke in her bedroom the next morning her first
thought was an angry one. Where was her maid? Sighing, she pushed back the bed
covers and threw open her curtains, staring out at the lawn and catching sight
of that damned gardener who’d been so impertinent the day before. She aimed to
have him relieved of his position by the end of the day. But how?

Carrie, the chambermaid burst in seconds later. “Sorry I’m
late Miss Amelia,” she said, flustered and pale. “Only your father asked me…”

“Excuses do not interest me,” Amelia replied. “You were
late. You will be punished. Assume the position at once.”

“But Miss Amelia. It’s not right.”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No miss.”

“Assume the position!” Amelia roared, her face flared with
anger.

Carrie’s shoulders slumped as she walked slowly over the
dressing table and bent over it, gripping the edge with her hands and grimacing
as she waited.

Amelia loved this part the most, the waiting. It gave her a
sense of her own power that was unsurpassed in any other situation. Strolling
back and forth behind Carrie, she sermonised for many minutes on the importance
of timekeeping, of obeying your mistress, of not answering back. Only when a
quarter of an hour had passed did she lean over and lift the maid’s dress from
her ankles, sliding it up over her stockinged legs before setting it down on
her waist, leaving it bunched there, the poor girl’s knickers exposed to the
chill morning air.

“There was no fire when I awoke,” Amelia said, taking hold
of Carrie’s white cotton drawers and yanking them down to her ankles. “As your
goose bumps inform me, it is cold in here is it not? Is this how a lady should
be treated?”

“No miss.”

“I said, is this how a lady should be treated?”

“No miss Amelia.”

“Now I think six for the lateness and a dozen for the
answering back. What say you?”

“Whatever you think best miss.”

“That’s right,” Amelia smiled, drawing back her hand above
her head. “Whatever I think best.”

She brought her hand down onto Carrie’s bottom with a
resounding smack. She frowned as the maid remained silent. “Not hard enough is
it?” she snarled, whipping her hand down five more times, each blow harder than
the last.

Pausing for a moment she ran her hand over the reddened
flesh of the maid’s bottom, relishing the heat she felt there, knowing she’d
been the cause and there was nothing Carrie could do about it.

“A dozen more I believe,” she said, spanking hard but
stopping between each one, waiting for a delicious few seconds as Carrie
remained as quiet as a mouse.

With four to go, she stopped, kicking the maid’s ankles
further apart, staring intently at her exposed pussy which had become swollen,
a glistening line of dampness coating the exposed lips.

“You must learn to be on time,” she growled, landing the
final four blows in quick succession.

Carrie remained in place, that was good. She’d remembered
from last time not to move until told. Kneeling down behind her, Amelia leaned
her face close enough to smell the sweet scent of her servant, breathing it in
whilst holding a trembling hand forwards. She knew what she wanted to do, she
knew what the maid wanted her to do but still she hesitated, unable to take the
step into a world from which there might be no return.

Placing the tips of her fingers on Carrie’s left buttock,
she slid slowly downwards towards her pussy, glancing around her as if
expecting to be caught and told to stop at any moment by one superior to her.

Her fingers kept moving and with her breath held, she let
them glide over the wetness that spread outwards. “You dirty girl, you’ve
enjoyed this haven’t you?” she yelled, spreading her pussy lips apart whilst
maintaining the appearance of anger even though in her mind the sensation had
long been exchanged for a different feeling, that of amorous intentions.

With the lips held apart by one hand, she was better able to
observe her maid’s pink hole, her mind screaming at her to delve inside.
Instead she brushed her other hand along the length of soaking pussy, finding
the nub at the tip engorged and hardened. Stroking over it, she felt her own
clit tingle and begin to ache.

Carrie let out a quiet moan and that was enough to shake
Amelia from her reverie. She stood up and stepped back. “Dress me and be on
with your duties,” she said.

“Yes miss,” Carrie curtseyed, her dress falling back into
place. She leaned down to pick up her knickers whereupon Amelia shook her head.

“Leave them on the floor. A guttersnipe such as you does not
deserve to wear them.

“Yes miss,” Carrie repeated, walking over to the wardrobe
and selecting a morning dress. She draped it across the bed before turning to
her waiting mistress.

“Quickly now for I am hungry.”

“Yes miss.”

As Amelia’s night shirt was lifted from her, she focussed on
her breathing, hoping her own arousal was not noticeable. Her nipples were
rigid, jutting forwards as the maid’s hands brushed over them.

When the night shirt was set aside Amelia had to fight to
resist touching her clit which continued to throb with desire. Carrie helped
her into her knickers, her fingers sliding up her thighs and, just for a
moment, touching her pussy.

Amelia bit her lip to keep from crying out, her hole growing
moist whilst Carrie turned to pick up the dress. She helped her mistress step
into it, brushing it down into place before stepping back.

“Be here on time tomorrow morning without fail,” Amelia snapped
before striding from the room.

Chapter 3

When she arrived in the breakfast room she found her parents
waiting alongside a stranger sat at the head of the table, munching heartily on
bacon and eggs. She glanced at him, trying to place his face.

“Ah, darling daughter. Do join us. You recall George Jenkins
from the ball?”

Amelia almost staggered. It was him, the one who’d spilled
his drink on her. Had he told her parents what he’d told her? She could only
hope not.

Taking her place, the serving staff filled her plate. Lord
Carrington winced, as if expecting her to snap at them for some imagined
deficiency but she remained meek and quiet whilst eating.

“Mr Jenkins has offered to tutor you my dear,” Lord
Carrington said as he sipped his coffee. “What do you think of that?”

“What do I need tutoring in?”

“Deportment, manners, how to be a lady,” Lady Carrington
said. “All the things in which you are currently sadly lacking.”

“I am a lady,” Amelia replied, glancing at the stranger who
had yet to speak. “I need no assistance from one such as him.”

“I disagree,” said Lord Carrington. “This morning I awoke to
find a gentleman was waiting on our doorstep. He stayed overnight at Thirsby in
order to return first thing and make his offer to us.

“One week in his care and you will be a different girl. I
hope you will agree it is worth seven days away from home to gain a most useful
education.”

“I don’t want an education,” Amelia whined.

“You need one,” Mr Jenkins said, speaking up for the first
time. “I’ve never met such a whiny little brat as you.”

Amelia puffed up her chest. “How dare you sir!”

He continued speaking, ignoring her outburst. “A self
centred, arrogant, spoilt young woman who needs to learn some self discipline
if she is ever to find a husband.

“There will be no more yelling, no more tantrums, for they
will not work with me as well as they have clearly worked all too well on your
doting parents.”

“Father?” Amelia said, her voice tentative.

“Do not turn to him when I am addressing you!” Mr Jenkins
roared.

Amelia jumped, she was not used to voices raised against her
but something about this stranger’s manner demanded attention. She turned to
look at him as he continued.

“I believe in a simple technique for the improvement of
humanity. Chastisement for poor behaviour, rewards for good, training to teach
you how to know the difference.”

“Capital sir!” said Lord Carrington, spitting out toast
crumbs. “Absolutely capital!”

“I won’t go,” Amelia said although the fight was already
fading from her voice.

“You will,” Lord Carrington said. “Or we will disown you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“He would,” said Jenkins quietly. “I have had quite a long
conversation with both your parents. “Either you come with me for one week,
payment on satisfaction of the course, or you will never receive another penny
of your allowance. What say you now?”

“Father?”

Mr Jenkins scraped back his chair and stood up. “I warned
you once to face me when I address you. I do not give a second warning.” He grabbed
Amelia by the arm and yanked her out of her chair.

As he dragged her from the room, she pleaded with her
parents to stop this madness.

“I am sorry,” Lord Carrington said as she was pulled through
the doorway. “This is for the best.

The door slammed closed and she was alone with Mr Jenkins in
an anteroom. “Bend over that chair!” he boomed.

“I will not!”

“You will!” With those words he forced her into place, bent
over an armchair with her bottom jutting out behind her. “If you move I shall
inform your parents of your ill discipline and your allowance will be burnt in
the hearth forevermore.

Amelia remained frozen in place, trying to decide on a
course of action. She was not chained in place of course, she could turn and
leave the room in a second. But if they truly did stop funding her lifestyle
what then? She pictured herself hammering on the door of the workhouse, her
clothes in rags, her beautiful hair in greasy knotted clumps.

The tension in her body grew as she heard Mr Jenkins pacing
behind her. This must be how Carrie felt, she thought and as she did so a
shudder passed through her.

Shuffling her legs, she felt a wetness forming on her pussy.
Was it despite her fear or perhaps because of it? Something about the stranger
sent tremors through her soul. She’d felt it last night when he’d faced her
down in the ballroom. When he’d whispered that she was the most beautiful
creature she’d ever seen, she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. All
thoughts of yelling or violence had vanished from her mind in an instant. When
he leaned towards her ear and mentioned how hard he’d become at mere sight of
her, she’d left the room in a fluster, not knowing what to think for the first
time in her life.

She realised Mr Jenkins was speaking and begged his forgiveness
for not paying attention. What are you doing, she asked herself. You’ve never
asked anyone for forgiveness before.

“I said remain still and do not cry out or it will all the
worse for you.”

Silence.

“To that you reply yes sir. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. That’s a good start.”

She felt his hands on the hem of her dress and he slowly
lifted it to her hips, draping it across her back. She shuffled her legs again,
wondering if the pool of moisture on her pussy was visible through her drawers.
She gasped as her tore them away from her, ripping them in half and tossing
them aside.

“Sir!” she exclaimed.

“You shall not need those again for some time,” he replied.
“Now mind what I said. Silence throughout.”

There was a moment’s pause, Amelia’s body rigid with tension
as she waited. Finally with a whoosh of air his hand slammed down across her
buttocks making her stand straight upright as a stinging pain passed through
her.

“Another one for not remaining in place,” he snapped,
forcing her back down. “That makes six more.”

He spanked her again a second later and this time she manged
to remain in place, gripping the chair before her to stop herself from
automatically standing up. As blows three, four, and five landed she let out a
long slow breath, fighting to resist crying out.

“Good,” Mr Jenkins muttered. “Very good I must say.”

As the final spanks landed Amelia sighed with relief,
turning to stand up.

“I did not say you could move. Back into place and two more
for your impertinence.”

She turned and bent over, realising he hadn’t had to force
her this time. Her dress was lifted again and this time he groped her buttocks
with his rough fingers, squeezing them hard before spanking her twice more. She
waited in silence.

“You may return to your breakfast,” Mr Jenkins said at last.
“Once you have eaten be ready to leave in an hour.”

Amelia nodded. “Yes sir,” she said, walking slowly back to
the breakfast room, her cheeks stinging and her pussy throbbing. As she ate in
silence Mr Jenkins spoke to Lord and Lady Carrington.

“She will not be the same woman when she returns, you must
accept that.”

“We sincerely hope that to be the case,” said Lord
Carrington. “I trust you spoke to her firmly in private?”

“That I did,” he replied. “We had an instructive conversation
but my methods, I’m afraid, must remain confidential or every Tom, Dick, and
Harry would set up their rival businesses and then where would I be?”

“Of course sir,” replied Lord Carrington. “I will not ask
again.”

An hour later Amelia was standing on the drive by the main
door, her suitcase beside her. She had little to pack, being told she needed no
clothing as it would be provided for her. Taking a few books, her hairbrush and
sundry items of a trivial nature, she knew not what might be needed as she knew
not what her week away would entail.

“Please don’t go,” Carrie said, appearing at her shoulder.
“I fear for you being sent to a strange place with a strange man.”

Amelia managed a laugh. “I’m sure I don’t know what is
worrying you,” she said. “I will return no different to how I left and then I
shall garner an apology from my father for this ludicrous expedition alongside
a doubling of my allowance in recompense.”

A coach and horses pulled up on the gravel as they waited
together and Carrie gave her one last squeeze of the hand before lifting her
case onto the top of the coach. “You Amelia?” the driver grunted.

“I am Miss Amelia Carrington, daughter of Lord and Lady
Carrington, yes. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

“It’s whom Lady Muck, even I know that,” he replied. “Get
on-board. We have a long enough journey ahead of us.”

Amelia had hoped her parents would see her off but as she
climbed into the coach she realised it was not to be. So be it, they’d soon
regret sending her away, she was certain of it. Not only that but she intended
to milk their guilt for all it was worth upon her return.

“Where is Mr Jenkins?” she asked the driver as he readied
the horses.

“Business,” came the curt response. “He’ll meet you at the
house soon enough. Now get on!”

With a twist of the reins they were moving and Amelia took a
last look at the house behind her as it shrank into the distance, wondering how
she would feel when she saw it again. “Just seven days,” she said out loud to
herself. “Only a week, anyone can last a week after all.”