Friday, November 4, 2016

Story: The Bottle of Oil

By Sergio (domedeus2002)
Translated from the Italian by The Nerdly


"Damn, damn, damn!" muttered Valerie to no one in particular.  Once again, a bottle of oil had slid through her fingers and shattered on the floor.  She sank to her knees and began collecting the shards of glass, all the while cursing her clumsiness.  She knew that her mistress would not be pleased when she learned about this latest incident.  She had emphasized that Valerie was to be careful with the bottle, and now....  No, her mistress would not be at all happy to learn about her carelessness.

The last time Valerie had dropped a bottle of oil, the Signora had whipped her without mercy, and she still remembered it vividly. She had wept, had screamed, had begged at the top of her lungs for her mistress to show mercy and stop beating her, but to no avail. The punishment had continued unabated until Valerie had felt wetness on her thighs, and then she had to kiss her mistress's hand in the prescribed fashion, lick the whip clean, put it back where it belonged, and, finally, thank her mistress for the discipline.


For several hours after the punishment, Valerie found it almost impossible to tolerate the touch of her uniform against her tender skin.  (Of course, her mistress did not approve of maids wearing  lingerie.)  Nevertheless, she felt her punishment was fitting and proper: after all, her mistress had deigned to let Valerie become her maid, and she had provided her with room and board.  Therefore,  carelessness in even the most trivial of Valerie's household duties merited each and every one of the welts that adorned her buttocks.

As her mistress always said, "A thick skull and lazy hands are going to be washed with abundant tears."

Yes, to improve her behavior, Valerie knew she needed strict discipline administered by her mistress.

Besides, it had always been like this.  Before she began serving Signora, Valerie had worked as a saleslady in a large shoe store. She liked to kneel in front of the customers (of both sexes) and to help them on or off with their footwear.  They didn't beat her at the store, of course, but her supervisor frequently and publicly reprimanded her for her clumsiness. 

In fact, it was in the shoe store that Valerie met the customer who would become her mistress.  The Signora was a regular customer, but one who was somehow different, Valerie felt.  She wore fashionable clothes, was decisive, had an elegant and professional aura, and usually spent considerable sums on shoes, but there was something more -- something special about her that Valerie could not quite put her finger on, but that attracted her like a moth to a flame.

Whenever the Signora entered the store (and she usually spent a considerable sum when she did), Valerie hurried to put herself at the Signora's complete disposal, to show the store's entire collection, and to help the Signora try on sandals and pumps, high heels and boots, using the occasion to prostrate herself in front of that fascinating woman and to graze her fingers lightly along  the Signora's legs and feet.  In the shadows of the dimly lit stockroom, Valerie took the opportunity to kiss the shoes that had held the feet of the mysterious lady.

For a while, their relationship was limited to the cold politeness usual between a saleslady and a customer.  But Valerie yearned to elevate their relationship to one of...greater intimacy.

She worked out her plan to the smallest detail.  It was payday, and the Signora was certain to be flush.  All morning long, Valerie was embarrassingly slow, to the point of nearly inciting the anger of
her supervisor.  The moment the Signora entered the store, Valerie rushed to serve her, escorted her to a chair, and fetched the best of the stock in her size and taste.  As usual, the Signora was talking on her cell phone, but, as soon as Valerie brought out the shoe boxes, she paused and put her cell phone on the arm of the chair.  After having shown the Signora a few samples, Valerie collected the boxes into a pile so she could carry them back to the stockroom.  As she rose up, she over-balanced, staggered, and dropped the boxes on the Signora, who bumped her cell phone, which fell to the floor with an audible crunch.

The agitated protests of the customer immediately attracted the attention of the store manager, who rushed over.

It was a memorable scene: all activity in the store ceased, and all eyes were trained on Valerie, who, with lowered head, was muttering excuses to the Signora and to her supervisor, who was calling Valerie a ham-fisted idiot.  The manager obsequiously assured the lady that she would be reimbursed for the cost of the cell phone, that Valerie would be suitably disciplined for what she had done, and that it would never happen again.

The Signora calmed down, gave the manager her business card (so she could be sent payment for the cell phone), and immediately left the store without bothering to look at Valerie, who was collecting the boxes she had dropped.

That evening, before leaving for the day, the manager reprimanded Valerie one last time, during which she hung her head -- and took the opportunity to sneak a glance at the business card lying on his desk.

As soon as she left the store, Valerie rushed directly home, took a bath, and prepared herself for an important appointment.  She did not put on panties.

She went to the customer's address carrying a case that she had prepared a long time ago.  With her heart in her throat, she slid her fingers along the names on the intercom, nervously pushed the appropriate button, and awaited a response.  As soon as she heard the Signora's voice, she introduced herself, apologized for what had happened that morning, and said that she needed to speak with the Signora in private.

The Signora buzzed Valerie in through the vestibule door, invited her into the flat, and offered her a seat.  Valerie felt rather uncomfortable at being treated so graciously; she would have preferred to be interrogated by the Signora while prostrate at her feet, but that perhaps was only a matter of time...

Valerie apologized profusely, but the Signora said that the incident was now over and forgotten. Valerie then went on to the reason that she had come.  She said that her boss had threatened to sack her, that he claimed he had given his word to the customer that Valerie would never be seen in the store again...whereupon Valerie, devastated, had begged for another chance.  She said the manager had relented and agreed not to dismiss her...provided one condition was met.  Her clumsiness required some sort of discipline...and Valerie herself must ask the Signora to administer it.

At that point, Valerie opened the case she was carrying and extracted a school cane.

"Here, Signora.  You must give me at least twenty strokes with this cane.  And they must be sufficiently severe that my supervisor can count the welts."

The Signora remained motionless as Valerie handed her the cane and even when Valerie knelt on the divan and pulled her skirt up over her naked buttocks.

"I beg you Signora, please beat me with the cane so that I don't lose my job...."

The Signora finally rose from her armchair, swished the cane in the air, and positioned herself behind Valerie.

The first stroke was a caress, and Valerie had to remind the woman that the strokes needed to be energetic enough to leave welts.

The second stroke was sufficiently painful to draw a whimper from Valerie, followed immediately by thanks for an effective blow. The Signora had now gotten the hang of using a cane, and the remaining strokes were delivered with a slow, rhythmic beat.

After the first ten strokes, Valerie started to shake her bottom, which was showing the first signs of welts, and began to rub her buttocks.  The second time she did that, the Signora said that, if Valerie did that again, the punishment would be terminated. 

She then resumed the beating with greater vigor.

Valerie's cries and screams became louder and more frequent, and, in the end, she received rather more than twenty strokes. Red welts were now clearly visible on her buttocks.

During a pause, Valerie tried to get up, but a blow to her left thigh dissuaded her; the Signora ordered her to remain in position until given permission to move.

When the punishment finally ended, the Signora ordered the weeping girl to kneel down at her feet.  She then explained that the caning had not been because of the incident in the shop, but because Valerie had lied.  The Signora had already asked the store manager not to fire Valerie, and he had agreed.  Thus, it was obvious that Valerie had fabricated the story -- and possibly the "accident" itself -- in order to earn herself a caning.

But...if Valerie had such an itch to be punished, she could become the Signora's scullery maid.  As such, she would be treated with appropriate strictness.

******************************

Years had passed since that memorable evening, and Valerie was still in the Signora's service.  Time (and punishments) had not cured Valerie of her clumsiness, and now she had broken her mistress's bottle of oil, on the very evening the master was returning for a night of intimacy with the mistress.

The evening after she had been punished for breaking the first bottle of oil, Valerie had peeked into her mistress's bedroom. The Signora was on all fours as the master enthusiastically sodomized her.  Mistress had her head buried in a pillow, and the whimpers coming from the pillow were not ones of pleasure. Of course, things might have gone differently with the special oil.

The master certainly knew this, too, and perhaps that was why he had asked Valerie to break the bottle of oil.

All the years of service to her mistress and all the years of punishments had not cured Valerie, in fact, of any of her bad habits.


Edited by C. Lakewood


2 comments:

  1. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/authoritarian/the-princess-and-the-prostitute
    Read this story

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    Replies
    1. Thanks for the link. That story is actually very nice. It would fote this site perfectly. Are there more of this genre you'd recommend? There's so many stories and it's hard to pick good ones.

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