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ISBN: 9781907753077Author: Elliot RomerWord Count: 67,518Format: eBook
Laura took her hands from her head and prostrated herself over his knees, reaching out with her arms and placing her hands flat on the floor. Her legs stretched out behind, toned, shapely and tight together. 'You may open your legs,' he told her, removing his jacket and rolling up his shirtsleeves. 'And prepare yourself for a jolly good spanking.' But there was nothing jolly about the hand winging down onto her buttocks, or the hard lump prodding her belly, and growing harder by the second. Laura desperately tried to keep her balance while the master spanked her bottom. At every slap her body moved a little further forward over his knees, and to add to her discomfort the mysterious prodding in her belly grew more urgent...
Laura Horton is an eighteen-year-old inmate in a notorious House of Correction, where she is repeatedly flogged for the amusement of paying guests.One night, whilst confined to a punishment cell, she makes her escape only to fall prey to an unlikely assortment of thieves, vagabonds and confidence tricksters. Her honour is under constant assault as she flounders from one disaster to the next, narrowly escaping death for passing forged banknotes and tricked into entering a notorious brothel in Shadwell. Her one mission is to be restored to her family, but the restoration proves hard and painful along a road where every man and woman seems bent on taking her virginity.Will her courage keep her intact, or will she eventually succumb to the dark denizens of mid-Victorian London?
Silas Crowther sat in the master's office, resplendent in a burgundy coloured frock coat and white cravat. On the table beside his chair stood a decanter of brandy and five newly minted gold sovereigns, which the master carefully pocketed. On the other side of the room sat Mrs Gamp, politely awaiting her instructions. 'A fine brandy,' Silas complimented, replenishing his glass. 'Now tell me, William, which of your charges is going to provide this evening's entertainment?' William Beacham opened a ledger, which contained in splendid copperplate handwriting the names and ages of the girls who, at that very moment, were busy scrubbing themselves clean after a day's hard toil in the gardens. 'We have several new entrants,' he informed. 'Some of whom have not yet tasted the cane. Virgin bottoms, all pink and fresh just waiting for the whip.' Silas shifted on his chair, wondering if the stout matron could see the growing bulge in his breeches. 'I prefer someone tall,' he considered. 'And agile enough to touch her toes, well able to submit to a severe flogging delivered by another of your charges, a girl well practiced in wielding a rod.' Beacham stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked at Mrs Gamp with raised eyebrows, signalling her advice. She was there at once. 'I have the very girls you require, Mr Crowther, both of whom will not disappoint you. Horton and Higgins; the former will take a good flogging and the latter will take great delight in delivering it.' 'Laura Horton, wasn't she the one I flogged yester night?' Beacham enquired, surprised at the suggestion. 'She was, sir, and no more a wilful wretch ever walked this earth.' 'They have to be naked,' Silas intervened. 'Will they submit to that?' 'They will do whatever is required of them,' Beacham advised. 'Of course, if you wish to view them unclothed I'm afraid I shall have to ask for another two sovereigns, and ten shillings for Mrs Gamp.' 'I'll give you one sovereign and five shillings for the matron,' Silas said firmly. 'Done,' said Beacham, snatching up the coins. 'Mrs Gamp, be so good as to summon your charges.' While she was gone Silas Crowther got out of his chair and made for an alcove on the other side of the room. Inside the alcove a large mirror angled in such a way that he could view the proceedings without being seen by any of the participants. A curtain half drawn across the entrance ensured complete privacy should one of the girls inadvertently cast her eyes in that direction. 'After the flogging I may require the services of one of your more trusted and experienced charges,' Silas remarked, seating himself in the alcove. 'One whose mouth is not unaccustomed to giving pleasure.' 'That can be arranged for, shall we say, three sovereigns,' Beacham said amiably. Silas offered half that amount and Beacham slipped the coins into his waistcoat, just as Mrs Gamp marched into the room dragging the girls by their wrists. Beacham whispered in her ear and she nodded, knowing who to summon after the flogging was finished. Silas poured himself a brandy and gazed expectantly into the mirror. He was not disappointed with the matron's choice. The girl whom Beacham addressed, and evidently the one to be flogged, was taller than average, sporting a head of raven hair and no doubt a glorious body at present hidden under a layer of mud-spattered rags. She visibly trembled as her master explained the reason for her being there. 'This is the second time you have been brought before me on a charge of idleness and sloth. Moreover, as you have already been cautioned your offence is even graver. You are wilful, disobedient, and quite frankly stupid into the bargain. I have no intention of expending my own efforts on your backside, so Higgins will administer the punishment. You will both now remove your clothes, Horton all the better for being flogged, and Higgins all the better for being unhindered.' Both girls stared at each other in disbelief. It was not uncommon for one girl to flog another, indeed, it happened frequently, but never in a state of undress. It was unheard of. 'Will you remove your clothes, or shall I have the matron rip them from your backs?' Beacham threatened. Mrs Gamp, without waiting for either to reach for as much as a single button, strode across the room, and with hands on both collars, simultaneously tore their dresses with one huge rent. Silas, from his place in the alcove, saw the torn material hanging in shreds around their buttocks. They stood stock still, seemingly paralysed with fear. The matron, with another deft swipe of her hands, ripped away the tattered remains and cast them to the floor with a look of undisguised disgust. 'Now your drawers!' she barked. 'Or do I have to assist you with a cane across your hinds?' Silas watched them slowly wriggle their drawers over their hips and buttocks. For a brief moment when the cotton was clear of their cheeks, they hesitated, looking imploringly at the master, hoping for a reprieve. But none came and the garments continued their downward journey over their thighs and knees and landed on the carpet with a sad plop. They stepped out of them and remained side-by-side, naked as the day they were born. Silas gave a low whistle at the sight of them. The shorter of the two had good legs, if somewhat muscular, as were her arms, which surprised him given their meagre sustenance. The taller and darker one was of different mould altogether. She was a little on the slender side, which seemed to enhance her height. Her back was as straight as an arrow, her hips graceful, sweeping curvaceously to her firm and well-rounded buttocks. Her legs, well, Silas almost wept at their sheer beauty. The thighs were long and as smooth as marble, the calves undulating in a magnificent curve to her bare feet. 'Horton, part your legs,' the master spoke. Laura's feet shuffled anxiously over the carpet. 'Now bend over and grasp your ankles,' he further instructed. Silas watched spellbound as she dumbly obeyed. Her back bent in a perfect arc as her arms reached to the floor. The moment she gripped her ankles her pert bottom thrust at the mirror, giving an uninterrupted view of the darker regions beneath her legs. He thought he could just glimpse the opening of her sex. Swiftly he refilled his glass and drank deeply. 'Higgins, take up the strap,' Beacham ordered. 'The one you see lying on the desk.' The shorter one went to the desk and lifted a heavy leather strap; more likely employed taming a horse than a disobedient girl. 'Lay them on hard. A good two dozen, if you please.' Beacham smiled, hoping that might earn him another sovereign or two. Under the flaring lamp the bending girl had broken into a sweat, a fine sheen glistened on her skin, more from fear than the heat coming the fire. 'Master, I cannot do what you ask,' Elizabeth protested, aghast at having to perform such an odious task. The matron, moving across the carpet, temporarily obscured Silas' view as the rod she wielded lashed into Elizabeth's bottom. 'If you don't do as you are told I'll give three stripes for every one you deliver!' she hissed, and to emphasise the point, sent two more whistling into her rump. 'Yes, yes!' she shrieked. 'I'll do as I'm told!' and she gathered one end of the belt in her hand and, taking her weight on one foot, swung her body round and sent the other end of the belt cracking over Laura's back. 'Her buttocks,' the master corrected. 'You're supposed to beat her buttocks.' Elizabeth took a stance more to the left of Laura's behind and, steadying herself, landed a resounding blow square across both cheeks. They reddened at once, a fat weal which turned from pale pink to livid scarlet, the line broken only by the valley between them. 'Six more on her arse, and then you may give her thighs a belting,' the master instructed, giving a furtive glance at the alcove. 'And the rest on her back,' the matron added, following the direction of his eyes, wondering if she could squeeze another ten shillings from the affair. Silas, eyes glued into the mirror, watched as the six strokes were delivered, and each time the belt struck a cry of pain reverberated around the room. The bending girl swayed on the balls of her feet as the belt cracked and bounced off her buttocks, leaving in its wake a pair of blazing cheeks. But that was not the only sight which filled him with pleasure and caused the increasing bulge in his breeches. From his position he could clearly see her breasts swaying from side to side, the nipples he was sure had enlarged. The desire to kneel beneath her bending body and suck each teat in turn was overwhelming, and dimly the formulations of a plan took place in his mind.
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