Rectory of Correction

Rectory of Correction
  Zoom
Our Price:  £3.99Earn 3 Loyalty Points
+
Preferred Format:  

ISBN:  9781907976193
Author:  Amanita Virosa
Word Count:  74,428
Format:  eBook

Availability:  

  

Damsels in DistressDamsels in Distress
Hall of InfamyHall of Infamy

Linnet whimpered. 'I plead guilty. I am sorry, though I really don't know what it is I have done.'
   'She does not know what she has done to deserve this,' Bella mocked, shaking her head in faux sorrow. 'That is what they all say.'
   She reached out the cane and used the tip to lift Linnet's chin until their gazes met. 'I am going to spank you, little Linnet. I am going to spank you very hard, because - well, because I want to, and because I can. After that, these other two bitches will want to play some games with you, I expect, but they will have to wait their turns. Let her go, girls. Get up, Linnet, and take your blouse off. Then I would like you to come and put yourself over my knee.'

Escape from the humiliations of Hope Hall brings no respite for the lovely Amelia Colinbrooke. To her horror, Amelia is obliged to attend a special disciplinary course for wayward young ladies, devised by the Reverend Richard Dawes - the infamous 'chastising chaplain' of Hatherby, a man who brings a truly missionary zeal to the task of thrashing pretty, nubile, girls.

Amelia, and the other trembling trainees, soon discover that bitter humiliation, excruciating bondage, and searing corporal correction, are not so much features of the Reverend's training programme, as their entire new way of life. Dawes takes a particular interest in Amelia. Can Colinbrooke pride resist the rigour of his rod? Or will the whip finally break Amelia and her fair companions to absolute submission to the will of the diabolical Reverend Dawes...?

The corset was pretty much what Amelia had expected. A short affair in white coutil, it left the breasts and buttocks altogether, and most vulnerably, free. In fact, she recognised the beastly device as a punishment corset - or, rather, a refinement of a design she had already learned to dread.
   'What are these for?' She could not quite contain her curiosity. All around the bottom of the corset, beneath the fine lace trim, were little holes, reinforced with eyelets, whose purpose she could not guess.
   'Oh, they are for the whipping drawers, miss. But it takes too long, so you are not to go into them tonight.'
   Mention of 'whipping drawers' sent a frisson of fear through Amelia. She remembered seeing the things in Mademoiselle Isobel's emporium in Hatherby, garments that could be tightened to an almost absurd degree by means of lacing on either side. There had been nothing to correspond to the eyelets in the corset, however. A tight feeling in her stomach told Amelia the Reverend must have refined what had seemed an already diabolical design.
   Part of her was relieved that she was not to be laced into the things just yet. That relief was muted by the question stealing into her mind. Why she should be so spared? She realised it might not be altogether good news if the Reverend Dawes required her to keep her bottom bare.
   The uniform did nothing to reassure her: black silk stockings and high-heeled shoes; a navy pleated skirt which altogether failed to reach her garters; a white blouse with a stiff Eton collar and a tie, and a straw boater for outdoors wear.
   There was no doubt that the skirt was scandalously short, and the blouse a good deal tighter than she would have liked. Her breasts were left bare by the corset and she had been given no chemise; thus Amelia could not but be aware of the way her nipples jutted out against the thin material. Although only Faith was there to see her, she could not prevent a blush suffusing her face as she looked down glumly.
   'If you are ready, miss, I am to take you down to supper.'
   Faith's soft voice made Amelia jump. She took a deep breath and followed the girl down the stairway, terribly aware of her lack of drawers beneath the neat little skirt. Worse, her nipples seemed to be swelling as they rubbed against the tight cotton of her blouse, protruding ever more infuriatingly with every step she took towards the Reverend.
   'Amelia. There you are. Yes, very neat, the uniform suits you.'
   The Reverend Dawes let his cold gaze drop to her breasts and Amelia felt her cheeks burn red. She clasped her hands impotently at her sides, finding that her palms had become moist with perspiration. There was a long, awful moment of stillness as the Reverend perused her unhurriedly and Amelia fought the absurd desire to cry.
   Eventually, it seemed, the Reverend tired of staring at her breasts. He turned to a woman who had been waiting on one side, blinking anxiously at the little tableau, looking distinctly ill at ease.
   'This is Gretchen,' he said crisply. 'She will be one of your fellows on the course.'
   Amelia stared at the newcomer. The woman must be in her thirties, she thought with some astonishment. Gretchen was blonde, with a matronly figure. She had already changed into clothing like Amelia's and there was something particularly absurd about the big, rather ungainly woman in the abbreviated school uniform. Certainly Gretchen seemed no happier than Amelia felt, forced to wear this humiliating costume. Her pale cheeks were blushing scarlet and she was wringing her plump hands together miserably.
   The shortness of the skirt revealed tremendous thighs. Nipples as thick and rigid as thimbles pressed against the straining cotton of the woman's blouse. The full, suffocating shame of her own appearance struck Amelia like a blow to the stomach as she stood and stared at her companion in humiliation.
   'Gretchen seemed to feel it improper to disrobe in front of me, although I did explain that, as I am a man of the cloth, there can be no question of impropriety.'
   'It's just...' Gretchen began miserably.
   'It is just the little matter of your drawers, girl,' the Reverend Dawes snapped. 'Faith, fetch me a number seven cane. We shall see if we cannot persuade Gretchen of the errors of false modesty.'
   Amelia watched the maid scurry out, then turned her attention back to the other woman.
   'Take out one of the dining chairs and place it for me, Amelia. Yes, that's the ticket. Now, madam, if you would be so good as to assume the position. No, do not make cow eyes at me! Bend over the chair.'
   With palpable reluctance, Gretchen bent over the back of the chair, corsets creaking in protest as she did so.
   'Amelia, would you be so good as to raise the miscreant's skirts?'
   Amelia obeyed with alacrity, pulling up the woman's navy blue skirtlet. Gretchen gave a frightened moan, but held her position uneasily. Amelia's action revealed the biggest, fattest bottom she had ever seen. Gretchen's drawers were cream cotton, and very voluminous, but even so the big buttocks filled them and, as Gretchen had bent, she had pulled the material quite taut.
   'Drop her drawers, girl, she will not be needing them for a while.'
   Not daring to protest, Amelia reached under Gretchen's belly. Ignoring the outraged gasp that came from Gretchen's lips, she found the knot securing the drawstrings and undid it. The garment would not fall unaided, and Amelia had to tug the cotton down, past the massive upper thighs, and past the tops of the woman's silken stockings. Then she stepped aside.
   'Thank you, Faith.'
   Dawes took the proffered cane from his maid. It was a long one, thin and of a dark brown colour unfamiliar to Amelia, though the sight of it gave her a prickling feeling of panic down her spine. Something told her it was going to be an utter beast.
  The Reverend Dawes lined the cane up, touching Gretchen's bottom, which was already trembling in anticipation, and provoking a startled little gasp.
   'You must learn, Gretchen, that my orders are not matters for discussion. I will ordain, and you girls will obey.'
   Amelia watched the cane go back and pause, ready to do its work.
   'Or else,' Dawes continued in a conversational tone, 'I do assure you there will be hell to pay!'
   He unleashed the stroke. The cane moved too fast for Amelia to follow it. There was a barely visible blur, like a brief shimmering in the air, a whooshing sound, as cold to her soul as the whistling of an arctic wind, and a muted 'thwuck'. Amelia watched Gretchen's cheeks wobble after the impact. For all its size that bottom must be remarkably firm, she thought. Gretchen must be a stoical creature, though, for she hardly gave an indication that she might be in agony.
   'Oooh...!' The belated cry was let out at last.
   Not so stoical after all, Amelia thought. The woman had just been too stunned by the pain to speak for a few moments.
   'Oh, mercy, please, sir. I'm sorry, sir, no more, it's too...'
   'Be silent,' the Reverend said quietly but firmly. Then he struck again.
   Amelia watched Gretchen's bottom wobble after the impact. The woman seemed to be jiggling it in a vain attempt to disperse the pain. Two livid tramlines marred the pale perfection of her smooth rounds. Amelia licked her lips and tried not to think about what that cane would feel like on her own tender behind.
   The thrashing continued at a deliberate, even leisurely pace. The Reverend Dawes was evidently in no hurry for his supper and he took his time. He would unleash a stroke, then wait, allowing Gretchen ample time to feel the full pitch of the resultant pain. Perfectly at his ease, the clergyman stood flexing his rod thoughtfully as a fresh welt bloomed on her bottom. He allowed the woman to gasp and jiggle and even writhe around. Only when she stood up, yelping, after the fifth stroke, a blistering crack across her upper thighs, did he intervene.
   'You will bend over, girl!' he fairly roared. 'You will get into position now and hold it, or by God I will make you sorry. I shall double your tariff if you do not assume the position right this instant!'
   All too obviously reluctantly, Gretchen forced herself back over the chair. She was sobbing now, looking round with a red face that displayed all the signs of panic and was splashed with tears. Her buttocks trembled violently as she awaited the next stroke.
Watching in thunderstruck horror, Amelia found her mouth had gone quite dry. She could not take her eyes off the thin brown cane as he flexed it, then raised it. How long could it be before she felt the beastly thing on her own bottom? Her stomach turned a somersault as she watched the cane whistle though the air and hiss into Gretchen's bottom.
Average Rating (3 Reviews):  
Write a Review and share your opinions!

Rating:  
rectory of correction
Wednesday, 21 May 2014  | 

I found this book to be very enjoyable to read.


Rating:  
Good but not great
Monday, 11 January 2010  | 

I don't want to be too down on Chimera's Rectory of Correction. It's bought for erotic fantasy & the scenes it has are mostly a good fantasy. The Rector is certainly very keen on CP and on the female form brought to his will.

My only real problem is that the story moves around. It's like it was written over a long period of time with the author changing focus repeatedly. The three bridesmaids being spanked as part of wedding celebrations was a surprise, and a good way to bring the whole thing to an end when there were few other options left. Am I being harsh complaining about flawed writing, maybe? It would have been a little more enjoyable if it flowed better & if the great picture on the cover had any mention in the story.


Rating:  
Well Done Chimera Books
Monday, 11 January 2010  | 

I've just read Rectory of Correction, and am extremely impressed. Well done Chimera Books, and please pass my congratulations to Amanita Virosa for a beautifully written and highly imaginative novel.


Customers who bought this item also bought: