Chapter Three. Caned
"Aagh Gwen, keep doing it." Lady Haversham was nearly at the peak of an orgasm.
Gwen, her maid, was suckling her breasts and massaging her clit in the way she
knew her mistress liked. Both women were naked and although Gwen was no longer
young, she could bring her mistress off far better than any of the younger more
attractive maids. Lord Haversham, sometimes watched and finished off giving his
wife a good rogering but this morning he had young Lily in his bed. They were
laying quietly and could hear the noises emanating from the neighbouring
bedroom. Both husband and wife knew of and concurred with each other's
predilections.
"Put your fingers right in Gwenny. Nibble my titties a bit more. Aaaaaghhh!!"
Lady Haversham screamed out her climax. Gwen moved down her mistresses body and
licked the juices dribbling from her cunt.
Lily and Lord Nigel grinned and snuggled closer to each other. The sounds of his
wife's lovemaking had made him hard again. "Open them for me Lilly." Lily
responded and opened her thighs widely to allow his Lordship full access to her
womanhood.
"Fuck me Sir, Fuck me hard Sir. Please." Lord Nigel didn't need any
encouragement. Now the noises came from his room. Lady Haversham and Gwen peeped
in and watched for a while before returning to their own bed.
Quietness reined in both rooms for a while until Lady Haversham started
discussing 'the circus waif' with Gwen. "Henry said Lord Peter stopped him from
giving her a good going over after he'd strapped her, Ma'am," Gwen informed her
mistress.
"Did, he now. And she only had the strap she deserved anyway. I'd have caned or
birched her. Where is the waif now?"
"She spent the night with Peter, Ma'am."
"In Peter's bed?"
Gwen nodded. "So Martha said. They were both in the bed naked when she went in
this morning."
"Hmm. This is what we will do Gwen."
Betsy was showing Peter the principles of juggling when a knock came and she was
asked to see Lady Violet Haversham. It sounded ominous as the elderly maid
insisted M'lady wanted to see Betsy alone. She found Lady Violet still in bed
still with a cold pad on her head although there really wasn't any need for it.
"Turn round girl and lift your dress," Lady Violet snapped. Betsy did as
requested. "A little red that's all. Poor compensation for my sufferings. Face
me girl." Betsy looked her straight in the eyes. "You slept with my son last
night, I believe?"
"Yes Ma'am"
"Were you naked?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Was he?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Did her roger you?"
"No, Ma'am. We didn't do anything except hold hands and sleep."
"Why?"
"He didn't seem to want to Ma'am."
"But you would have let him?"
"Yes Ma'am. I guess so Ma'am."
"Did he feel those tiny breasts of yours?"
"I don't think so Ma'am. Not while I was awake."
"You know you are the first wench to spend a whole night in his bed and even
then he didn't have you. What's wrong with the boy? We've tried getting the
maids to seduce him and two of the local gentry girls who wanted a wealthy
husband but he has spurned them all. Yet you get into his bed. He must have some
feelings for you although I don't know why he should for a misbehaved wench with
a figure that is more like a boy's." Lady Violet paused and then went on, "You
will try and take him in you tonight."
"I shall be on my way again by then, M'lady."
"Wearing one of our dresses? I think not girl."
"But Ma'am I don't have another now and Peter gave me this one."
"LORD Peter to you girl and don't you forget it. Remove the dress now!"
Crying again, Betsy did as she was told. "Hmmm. I think we need the marks on
your bottom freshened up again too," Lady Violet went on maliciously, "Gwen, get
Henry to bring a cane. I'm sure he'll enjoy putting some stripes across that
tiny bum, stripes that will last a while longer than a little redness. That may
help to teach her some manners. Lock the door as you leave."
Gwen was already silently standing by the door so Betsy had no chance of escape
that way. She tried the other door, the one to his Lordship's room. It too was
locked. All she could do was plead but it was to no avail. Lady Violet wanted to
see her punished. Wanted to see her suffer. "I shall enjoy seeing you squeal
under Henry's caning," she said, "And seeing him roger you afterwards. Lord
Peter can't protect you here.
Peter, had kept his ears and eyes open while Betsy was away. He knew his mother
still felt aggrieved and probably would want to punish her further. He heard
voices from below and Henry's loud footsteps climbing the stairs and heading
along the passageway to the East Wing. Peter hurried as fast as his gammy leg
would allow but Henry must have heard him and locked a hallway door as soon as
he passed through. Peter knew he would have to go back and along the ground
floor and up the other stairs. This would take time. He heard a scream and knew
he was too late to prevent her getting another punishment.
Alone in the locked room with two women and a man, Betsy didn't have much chance
of fighting off her attackers. She might be more agile even with an already sore
bum but she was soon overpowered and dragged and bent over a chair. Gwen pushed
Betsy's face to the chair seat and leaning over her, held her in position. "Give
her a good dozen Henry, I want to hear her yell. Lay them on quickly before that
young son of mine gets here."
Henry wasted no time. Laying the strokes on hard and fast, he soon had Betsy
yelling and screaming at the top of her voice. "That's more like it Henry. Now
drop your breeches and let us see what that pego of yours looks like when it is
pushed up her bottom. Gwen will hold her open and I'll aim it for you." Henry
hardly had time to get his feet out of his breeches before Lady Violet grabbed
his prick and centred it on Betsy's bottom hole.
"Push hard Henry!" Willingly obeying his mistress, Henry forced his prick in the
poor girls unlubricated arse.
Another piercing scream filled the room just as Peter arrived at the door. It
was locked.
"Leave her alone," he yelled hammering on the door, "She's my guest and you
can't treat a guest like that."
Hearing his voice Betsy and sensing her captors were momentarily more concerned
with listening to Peter than with her she twisted lithely from Gwen's grasp and
grabbed the cane from the bed where Henry's had left it. Another quick twist
although it caused further the pain in her arse freed her and she stood facing
them. Henry advanced on her but held back when she swished the cane towards his
balls. Slowly she made her way backwards to the door and turned the key. Peter
entered.
"What's going on in.....Mother? Betsy?" Although his voice was quiet, all could
sense the fury in it.
"Peter, sorry Lord Peter," Betsy spoke through her tears but didn't relax her
command with the cane, "Did you give me that dress or was I only borrowing it?"
"I gave it to you. It's yours. The girl for whom it was made left long ago. The
dress is yours. Why?" He stopped when he saw Betsy's raw arse, "Oh my God! Why
mother? Why?"
"Gwen, please pass me my dress," Betsy ordered. The cane still swung menacingly
in her hand. Gwen looked at her mistress for guidance and received a nod.
"Why did you have her caned Mother? It's this oaf Henry that needs flogging."
"She didn't suffer enough yesterday for my injury and the indignities I went
through. She's only a street slut."
"Mother, you do so exaggerate. You had a little bump and more excitement that
you would normally get in a whole year. Now I demand we have no more of this
nonsense. She is my personal guest and as such will be treated with the
hospitality of a guest. You will all leave her alone until she decides and is
again fit enough to leave. Remember Henry," Peter's voice now took on a menacing
tone, "She is now my personal guest. Touch her again if you dare. Touch her and
you will be standing against the wooden gate watching as knives come at you.
Hoping and trusting her aim is true. Praying you do not wet your pants in
public. Am I understood?"
"Very well, Sir."
Back in his bedroom, Peter again called on Martha to administer to Betsy's sore
bum but she had hardly returned with the salve when Henry called her away and
left Peter to apply it. He was shy to do so.
"Peter, don't worry. You are so brave at times like when you stood against the
gate and just now in the room with your mother, but you just seem so afraid to
touch me. Put the stuff on. Be as gentle as you can but don't worry if it hurts
a little to make it better."
"What did my mother want with you, apart from more revenge?" Peter asked an hour
later as she lay on the bed and he sat at her side.
"She seemed interested in why you didn't fuck, sorry roger, me last night.
Wanted to know all that we did. I thought she was going to give me hell for
doing it with you but it seemed more like the other way. She told me I was to
seduce you tonight. That's when I said I would be gone and .... Peter? Why
didn't you do it last night? I would have let you. And you got hard several
times."
"Betsy it's a longish story but ..... it was because you were too sore and I
didn't want to impose on you."
"Now tell me the truth, Peter. That was only an excuse. I can tell."
Peter waited for some time before answering. "I must have been about fourteen at
the time and by then I knew about the parties my parents organised. Orgies more
than parties. I could have attended but I was too shy. I cannot dance and it
makes me all the more conscious of my leg. At one party they suggested a couple
of girls seduce me. They came naked into my room and started cavorting around
me. I started to run but my bad leg caught the rug and I tripped and my head hit
the tallboy. I was unconscious to some time. Since then I have avoided getting
involved with girls or women and always lock my door when they have a party."
"Why did you let me sleep in your bed then?"
"You didn't seem a threat. You were injured too." They lay talking comfortably
for a while until Betsy asked, "What would you normally do during the day,
Peter?"
"I'd be working on my book of flowers." Peter went and found his manuscript.
"The pictures are lovely," Betsy exclaimed, "They are so real looking. What are
you going to call your book."
Peter showed her the title page and then realised she wasn't able to read.
"Sorry," he said, "I forgot you probably hadn't had much schooling."
Lunch was eaten in the kitchen with the staff and under Henry's glare. Betsy had
to stand but she did so with defiance, determined not to cry in front of the
butler. Afterwards they walked slowly in the grounds as Peter explained each of
the wild flowers they came across. Betsy was fascinated but only understood a
fraction of what she was told. Her cheerful spirit had returned and she was able
to laugh and converse with playful glee tempered only by the sharp pain if she
tried to move quickly.
That night Peter lost his virginity. Betsy cuddled him to her as they both lay
side by side. They kissed. Slow tender kisses. She could feel his cock against
her belly but he made no effort to insert it. Rolling on her back and opening
her legs, Betsy pulled Peter on top of her. She groaned softly as her sore arse
took the weight but she was resigned to it. Gently she inserted Peter's cock and
once engulfed in her cunt, instinct took over and Peter worked it to and fro
until she felt it explode.
Betsy held him there. Her arse became accustomed to the weight and the pain
seemed somewhat neutralised. Gradually she felt him harden again and with a
little urging he fucked her for the second time in an hour. This time he took
longer before spurting his seed in her and during that time she was able to
climax herself. "Good job I took the precaution of putting the vinegar sponge
in." she thought.
In the morning when they awoke Peter needed no stimulation or help. As soon as
he knew Betsy was awake, his cock was inside her, seemingly wanting to make up
for lost time. He fucked her hard and she enjoyed it.
That morning she walked a little further around the estate with Peter. She knew
a few of the herbs and some of the common names to the flowers they encountered
but Peter's knowledge and enthusiasm for them, far surpassed hers. He was
forever picking an insignificant tiny flower, she would have missed and relating
something about it. She was soon caught up with his eagerness and love for them.
They collected a few items which he stored in a metal and leather vasculum to
bring home for later study.
For a few days life seemed idyllic apart from when Henry was around. He always
looked menacing, seemingly bent on revenge. They rode to parts of the estate and
despite his short leg, Peter could ride well and used a horse whenever he could.
He found a young filly named Queenie for Betsy. She wasn't a thoroughbred like
most of the horses in the stable but was quiet and broad. Betsy liked riding
bare back and once she and the filly had learned to trust each other, tried some
of her circus skills. Towards the end of the second week, on the flat she could
stand on the horses back and do a back flip on to the ground.
