Their Master's Pleasure (20 page)

The notion of commissioning spanking costumes for my wards had been in my mind for some time and I resolved to do something about it forthwith. I sought out Mrs Hammond and explained what I wanted, showing her the appropriate page in my journal by way of clarification.

‘I apologise for the quality of the drawing,' I said. ‘My artistic skills are not all they should be. I do practice, but improvement seems to elude me.'

She assured me the sketch was most skilfully executed, but I knew she was merely being polite. She studied the drawing carefully and read the notes. ‘I believe I see what you require, sir,' she said. ‘What fabric had you in mind?'

‘I leave that to the expert, madam,' I said. ‘The wearing of the garment is intended to cause a degree of discomfort, so I had imagined something coarse and tolerably stiff.'

‘I see. And these flaps over the breasts and private parts... did you wish them buttoned, or secured with ties?'

‘Again, I leave all such details to you, Mrs Hammond. Speed in unfastening them is not an issue, so whatever looks neatest.'

‘Buttons would be best in that case, sir.'

‘I take it you see no great difficulty?'

‘None at all. I shall need to go into town for the material, but making up the garments should present no problem. It will be good practice for Cathy especially: her sewing skills leave much to be desired.'

I nodded. ‘I did say these were for my wards, but I have changed my mind. I now want every female in the house to possess such an outfit.'

It took a moment or two for my words to register fully, then her face became still.

‘Yes indeed, madam,' I said, ‘yourself included. In fact, it would seem sensible to start with you. Once your own outfit is completed to my satisfaction, you will kindly organise all the rest. Ideally each woman should make her own, but I want them neatly done. If any individual lacks the necessary skills you must make other arrangements as you see fit.'

‘Yes, sir,' she said. As ever, it was the only answer she could give.

 

A week later the governess was standing before me dressed in the very garment itself. There is great satisfaction in seeing one's imaginings turned into reality and many an artist looking upon his finished canvas, or writer holding his printed and bound book, must have felt how I did at that moment. I stepped closer, nodding in approval, for I was greatly pleased with the finished result.

She had selected a canvas-like fabric that was perhaps more cream in colour than white. When I stroked my fingertip across her ribs I was pleased to find the material admirably rough to the touch. She could not find it comfortable to wear, for it fitted her like a second skin, encasing her torso, upper arms and thighs tightly. The high collar was of double thickness and very stiff in consequence, so that her chin was forced up and her head held erect.

The costume terminated just above the elbow and knee, and Mrs Hammond had chosen to decorate these edges with a modest frill, which helped relieve the plainness somewhat. Over each breast was a square flap with buttons at the top corners; these I unfastened, folding down each flap in turn. Two large circular holes had been cut in the fabric that covered her chest, the edges neatly stitched, through which her breasts protruded.

Below her belly was a third, smaller flap which buttoned at the bottom, an extra pair of buttons higher up enabling the flap to be secured in the raised position. I wasted no time trying this out, so that soon her bush was on display in addition to her breasts.

‘Delightful,' I said. ‘This is surely a sight to gladden any man's eye, Mrs Hammond.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

It was plain to see she was less than happy standing there flaunting herself in this way. Though her modesty was commendable, I did not do up the flaps, but instead walked behind her. As anticipated, a good deal more flesh was on show here than at the front. Most noticeable were her buttocks, which were completely exposed. Though I had contemplated another flap in this location I decided it would prove more of a hindrance than a benefit in a garment designed with spanking in mind.

In addition to that single large opening, a three inch wide gap ran the full length of her spine, with similar, narrower ones down the backs of her upper arms and thighs. Eyelets had been let in at intervals along all these edges so that they could be drawn together with stays in the same manner as a corset. Herein lay the secret of the garment's snug fit. By tightening the stays to a greater or lesser extent, her torso and limbs could be constricted to whatever degree was required.

Whoever the governess had asked to tighten these stays - for it would not be possible for the wearer to fasten them herself - had made an admirable job of it. The crisscrossed lacing pressed into her tender flesh, no doubt causing even more discomfort. In fact, I could see only one adjustment I would wish to make and that was but a momentary task.

‘I would prefer the collar somewhat tighter,' I said. ‘Hold still, madam.'

Each end of the tall collar, at the back of the neck, had been provided with a pair of eyelets and these were threaded with a length of white ribbon to facilitate adjustment. I proceeded to draw this fastening tighter - deciding I had gone far enough when the governess made a choking sound - then retied it with a rather fetching bow.

‘There,' I said, ‘that's better. How does it feel to you, Mrs Hammond?'

I went around in front of her as I spoke. Her face, I noticed, was pinker than normal and her expression suggested she was experiencing some slight difficulty breathing. ‘It is... perhaps a little... too tight, sir,' she said, in a somewhat strangled voice.

Maybe I had overdone it a touch - but then the wearing of the costume was intended to be something of an ordeal. I buttoned up the breast and crotch flaps, so rendering her almost decent once again, then stepped back to survey the outfit in its entirety.

‘Most neatly executed, Mrs Hammond,' I said. ‘You are to be congratulated.'

‘Thank you, sir,' she croaked.

Was the front a little plain, perhaps? I decided it was. A rosette or some other decoration might not go amiss. Then I had a better idea. I stepped up to her once more and traced a saucer-sized circle on her tummy.

‘I need a hole, Mrs Hammond.'

‘Pardon, sir?'

‘I require you to cut a hole here, right over the navel. Purely for decorative purposes, you understand.' It would not be pure decoration, in fact, for young women's navels are a constant source of delight to me. ‘A round hole for the staff,' I said, as a further elaboration occurred to me, ‘and a heart-shaped one for your own costume and those of my wards.'

‘Very well, sir.'

I thought it only right and proper there should be some feature, at least, to distinguish the costumes of ladies of quality from those of common working women. Class values must be preserved if we are not to descend into barbarism. I trusted the governess was suitably appreciative not to be ranked with the riffraff.

‘That one small change is all I require,' I said. ‘In all other respects it is perfect. What say we christen it, right this minute?' Without waiting for her reply I fetched my medium cane from the cupboard. ‘Can you bend, madam?'

‘I can... try, sir,' she said gamely.

It soon became apparent that she could, though with some considerable difficulty. Resting her hands upon the seat of a chair was possible, touching her toes was not. It was a restriction I was quite prepared to put up with.

I proceeded to lay on a few brisk strokes in a variety of positions - standing, kneeling and lying down - to explore the limits of her movement. I called a halt after twenty minutes or so, more than happy with the results. The spanking outfit was a great success, no doubt about it. My plan to obtain one for all the females in the house could now go ahead.

Happy as I was, I couldn't help but notice that Mrs Hammond's face was almost as red as her bottom. I finally relented, therefore, and loosened her collar, for which kindness she thanked me effusively. Sucking in a lungful or two of fresh air is something we tend to take for granted till it is denied us, as my wards and the maids were soon to discover.

There was just one more thing to try out now and I explained to Mrs Hammond what that was. She seemed much happier than when I proposed the caning test, I have to say. I unbuttoned her breast and crotch flaps once more and led her to the desk. She perched on the edge, leaned back and opened her legs. The spanking costume prevented her spreading them fully, but I had not the least difficulty positioning myself between them, nor in entering her. I settled into a steady rhythm and she gave a contented little sigh.

‘I see no benefit in hurrying this particular test,' I said, ‘do you?'

‘No indeed, sir,' she said, rather breathlessly. ‘I have always been in favour of long tests, myself. The longer the better, in fact.'

‘Your thoroughness is commendable, Mrs Hammond. A
very
long test it shall be.'

 

 

 

Cathy made the miraculous transformation from girl to woman in the middle of September. At least, so it appeared to me, though no doubt the process had taken place over several months and I had simply failed to notice, distracted as I had been with Freddie's visit, Ride-a-Cock-Horse, Exiles, spanking costumes and so forth, not to mention managing the affairs of a very large estate.

I was at one of the outlying farms inspecting storm damage when the change in her became apparent to me. I heard the sound of horse's hooves and turned to see Cathy riding into the yard. It was an astonishing sight for a number of reasons - firstly, she left the house but rarely and never on her own; secondly, she always maintained that she hated riding (although it was one of the few physical activities at which she was proficient, oddly enough) and thirdly, she was smiling. That may sound unremarkable, but for someone with so much to be thankful for she did seem to spend an inordinate amount of time pouting and sulking. My youngest ward was healthy, wealthy - or would be when she came of age - astonishingly pretty and had a delightful figure to boot, which made her constant scowls and temper tantrums all the less excusable.

There was no scowl in evidence as she rode up to Yew Tree Farm that morning, however. She was positively beaming, her face rosy-cheeked from the ride and her hair tumbling free, shining in the sun like spun gold. The top two buttons of her shirt were unfastened and any man with eyes could see she was wearing no corset. The twin swellings of her firm bosom strained at the white linen and put the third button at some hazard. Golden-haired and bursting with health and vitality, she looked like a Viking princess sitting tall and proud on her steed.

I heard a groan of wonderment, or incredulity, or passion - or most likely all three - from Tom, the farmer's eldest son. I could only sympathise with the lad.

‘Hello, Uncle James, gentlemen,' Cathy said. ‘A beautiful day, is it not?'

There were incoherent mumbles and one embarrassed cough from the men behind me. I felt like mumbling myself, but thought I should set them an example. ‘Catherine,' I said, ‘what a pleasant surprise to see you here.'

She looked about her. ‘That barn roof has seen better days, hasn't it? Was last week's gale to blame?'

My astonishment turned to utter disbelief, for it was unheard of for Cathy to display an interest in anything that did not impinge directly upon herself. ‘It was, my dear,' I said, ‘but we'll soon have it fixed, never fear.'

I took Whiplash's reins from young Tom's lifeless hand - the lad was still gawping at the vision of loveliness before him - swung up into the saddle and bid the men good day. ‘Best close your mouth, Tom-lad,' I added, ‘or you'll be catching flies.'

To a chorus of ‘Good day, sir; good day, miss,' and a flurry of tugged forelocks, Cathy and I turned our horses and trotted out of the yard, then down the lane and across the fields, heading for distant Bleekston Hall.

We walked the horses for much of the way. Once clear of the farm my ward came straight to the point. ‘Uncle James,' she said, ‘were you intending to seduce me soon?'

I could think of no immediate sensible answer to that most astonishing of questions, so I made light of it, as people do in such circumstances. ‘Sooner than you think, my dear, if that next button on your shirt pops open. I'm keeping my eye peeled for likely haystacks in which to tumble you.'

‘I'm serious, uncle,' she said. ‘Why should I be left out? You've seduced Elizabeth and Victoria, not to mention every maid in the house and the cook, even though she's very fat.'

She made it sound as if large ladies had no right to expect sex - or perhaps she was thinking there must be some physical impediment. In neither case was she correct, but now didn't seem the time to enlighten her. ‘You shouldn't listen to gossip, Catherine,' I said. ‘Servants' halls are full of it and mostly it is silly nonsense.'

‘I know you think me a child, sir,' she said, ‘but I am not. Neither am I a blind and deaf fool. I have ears for more than gossip and I have eyes: my bedroom is next to Victoria's, remember.'