By His Command. Justine Elyot

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СКАЧАТЬ – you know. Running, but on the spot. Well, come on then.’

      It was a bit weird, but I knew Jasper had this kink for semi-clothed exercise sessions, so I picked up my feet and did as I was told.

      ‘Get those knees right up, Walters.’

      If I lifted them any higher they’d bang my breasts, which were bouncing rather painfully, the chemise offering no support whatsoever. But it did warm me up, at least. He was right about that.

      He didn’t let me stop until I was puffing and hot-faced, having resorted to crossing my arms over my breasts to keep them under control.

      ‘That will do now, Walters. There. Warmer?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Take your arms away from your chest and prove it. Oh. They are still in quite the same condition they were before. But you can’t attribute it to cold now, surely. So what is your explanation?’

      ‘I … have no explanation, sir,’ I muttered.

      ‘Put your arms by your sides,’ he ordered, ‘and kneel in front of me. I must examine this phenomenon properly.’

      I knelt between his knees, which he obligingly spread for me, and kept my back straight and my chin up as he indicated I should.

      His palms passed gently over the tips of my nipples, rubbing the fabric of my chemise against them. They were so sensitive I felt the gush between my thighs at once.

      ‘Your predecessor, Larkin,’ he said softly, ‘used to exhibit the same tendency. In her case, the explanation was that she was an unconscionable slut. Is that true of you?’

      ‘I hope not, sir.’

      ‘Ah.’ He pinched and tweaked them so that I gasped. ‘You hope not. There we have your answer. You hope not, but you are. Just as much a slut as she ever was. Well, Walters, that is good, for we can now be on an honest footing with one another. But I’m afraid I must show you now how sluttish tendencies are dealt with in this house.’

      ‘Oh.’ It wasn’t the most stoical of little whimpers, but I had an idea of what was coming, and it wasn’t the good, solid, bent-over-the-chair-arm shagging I was hoping for.

      ‘My riding crop is on the corner table. Kindly bring it to me.’

      I wanted to hesitate, to make pleading puppy-dog eyes, but I remembered that I was Walters, and Walters did as she was told at all times with serene grace.

      I picked it up by the handle and a shudder went through me. Jasper’s fist would be wrapped around it soon and the devilish plaited length of it would be brought to bear upon my defenceless bottom. What else was a riding crop good for? Did anyone use them for actual horse riding?

      It felt alien in my hand and I was thankful to get rid of it and hand it over to Jasper, who laid it in his lap for a moment and looked me over.

      ‘Turn around,’ he said.

      I obeyed.

      ‘Do you know what I’m going to do with this riding crop?’ he asked. I heard him raise the glass to his lips again then set it down.

      ‘I, uh, I’m not sure, sir.’

      I really wanted to hear him tell me.

      ‘I’m going to punish you with it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to lay as many strokes as your tempting little posterior can take, until you are perfectly soundly thrashed and sore. Then you might think twice before showing me your saucy swollen nipples, like any whore in an alleyway. You are going to learn modesty, Walters. Kindly arrange yourself over the arm of that chair, bottom uppermost.’

      It seemed mad not to protest, but Walters would look him calmly in the eye and acquiesce, so that was what I did.

      I strained and stretched my calves and thighs, pushing my bottom out so the cotton of the drawers was tight and thin over my curves.

      ‘I suppose you’ve been thrashed before?’ he said, coming to stand beside me. He placed the flat tip of the crop on the broadest part of my bum and brushed it, almost soothingly, up and down the crease. To tell the truth, it stopped being soothing and started being extremely arousing pretty quickly.

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘You girls need it, don’t you? You need to be kept in check and taught your place.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Tell me about your last whipping, Walters. Who administered it?’

      Damn, he was going to make me use my imagination, just at the point where I was ready to sink into mindless sensation.

      ‘The housekeeper, sir, at my last place.’

      ‘Oh, the housekeeper. A lady. An older lady, I trust, of strict moral probity.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘What was your transgression?’

      ‘There was no transgression, sir. She whipped all us maids before church every Sunday, just to keep us decent, as she said.’

      ‘What a marvellous woman. To keep you decent. Yes, that’s a very fine routine. I may well adopt it myself. If this woman is ever in want of a place, you must recommend me to her.’

      ‘I will, sir.’

      ‘Tell me how she organised these Sunday-morning affairs. What did she use and how did she go about her disciplinary business?’

      ‘For these, she used a stiff leather strap that hung in the scullery at all times. For serious misdemeanours, she inclined to the birch rod, but for regular whippings it was always the strap.’

      ‘Ah, yes, I am myself a keen aficionado of the birch rod.’

      I knew that. I knew it very well.

      ‘She would line us up, sir, after the master’s breakfast things were washed up, in the kitchen. All the male staff were allowed to stay and watch, too, which was the worst of it. Much worse than the pain.’

      ‘Oh? I will bear that in mind.’

      ‘I’d rather you didn’t, sir.’

      He tapped my bottom sharply.

      ‘Your preferences are irrelevant. If I decide that you need witnesses to your shame, then witnesses there shall be.’

      I hoped that this was Cruel Film Bastard and not Jasper talking. I didn’t think I would ever be ready for that – bad enough during the summer when Will stumbled upon me, bound and thrashed, in Jasper’s grounds. I squirmed in protest, helping the little bloom of heat from the crop to fade.

      ‘Come on, then. You and your fellows lined up in the kitchen, with the male staff looking on. What happened then?’

      ‘We were called forward in reverse order of seniority. The scullery СКАЧАТЬ