Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 4.

By Charles Ryder

Stephen made me very happy today. He explained how he was very impressed with my work under Mrs Francis. She had apparently explained to him that I was now thoroughly knowledgeable regarding all matters pertaining to the running of the house and that consequently my services as a maid were no longer required. He also explained that I should be schooled in the behaviour expected of the wife of a senior army officer. He has discussed this with Mrs Francis and she is apparently amenable to help ‘take me in hand’. He has also given Mrs Francis a sum of money in order that I might be more appropriately dressed for my new role.

“How long do I have to wait before you tell the silly little bitch?”

Each word was punctuated by a rhythmic thrust as I worked energetically on my Irish minx. I could feel my manhood straining to bursting point. She was almost the exact opposite of my juvenile wife, sexy, skilful and all the tricks of a whore, which she possibly once was. At that precise moment I just didn’t care. I was right on the very edge of a massive climax.

“Tell me again” I whispered. “What are you going to do with Charlotte?”

She smiled at me showing her beautiful, even teeth, stretching upwards she whispered the response she knew I wanted. With a massive, euphoric rush I came enormously.

Charlotte meanwhile was back in the City. She was trying on clothes again. This time however they were not childlike. They were actually designed for children. More precisely she was trying on for size a grey, box-pleated gymslip. She was already wearing a starched white shirt, a tightly knotted red and white tie, and a pair of tight blue knickers. She was trying desperately hard not to cry. Mrs Francis had threatened to tan her backside if she as much as let one tear escape. The true horror of her situation had slowly enveloped her. Mrs Francis had carefully explained to her that in order to facilitate her re-education she would be required to attend lessons dressed in a full school uniform. The fact that she was nineteen was brushed to one side. In order to achieve maximum efficiency a room in the house would be furnished as a schoolroom. She, Charlotte would have to attend lessons given by Mrs Francis. Mrs Francis would be given full authority over her as regards her subjects, discipline and uniform. And Mrs Francis had decided that Charlotte should be attired in the most humiliating uniform that she could find. Despite the warning her new teacher had given her she could feel the tears welling once again. The shopkeeper was bringing over a hideous red and white striped blazer and a straw boater with a matching ribbon.

Two months had passed. Charlotte was sat in the schoolroom trying to sit comfortably at the hard, wooden desk. Her bottom stung abominably. Her skin-tight knickers only exacerbated the situation. She had received a ‘sixer’ from Miss Francis for inattention and now the stripes were throbbing. All she had done was to take her eyes off the blackboard for a few seconds. Miss Francis, she preferred to be addressed as ‘miss’ now that she was Charlotte’s schoolmistress, had called her out and bent her over the desk. The scandalously short skirt of her gymslip had been flipped up and then as directed she pulled her own knickers down to her knees. The first stroke of the cane had taken her breath away.

“Aaagh, one, thank you Miss Francis.”

Whip.

“T...two, thank you, Miss Francis.”

And so it had gone on until Charlotte was a squirming, blubbering wreck. This was not an unusual occurrence. It turned out that Miss Francis was a particularly accomplished disciplinarian. The little shop in the City that Miss Francis had dragged her to had supplied the woman with everything she needed. Whatever implement she selected was guaranteed to reduce her charge to tears in double quick time. The cane however was her favourite. So neat, so elegant, and yet so painful for the recipient. Almost every day she applied some sort of punishment to her student.  Not necessarily a severe punishment. Sometimes she might apply a ruler to Charlotte’s outstretched palms, sometimes a couple of open-handed slaps to the back of her thighs was deemed sufficient. Whatever the choice the outcome would always leave the girl absolutely squirming with embarrassment. Indeed, it seemed to Charlotte that humiliation was the woman’s primary objective. Whenever she was taken out of the house be it with Miss Francis or with Stephen she was instructed to wear her full uniform including hat and blazer. They were both most particular regarding her appearance.

Charlotte particularly disliked being punished in front of the new maid. At first, she was punished in the privacy of the schoolroom. Although the spankings or canings she received usually caused her to cry and shriek at least it was only her and Miss Francis. When Miss Francis warned her that her unladylike ‘caterwauling’ as she described it would bring the maid’s attention to her humiliating correction she tried very hard to control her grief. Mary seemed unaccountably interested in her punishments. Even when they were in the same room or corridor the Irish maid would look at her in a knowing sort of way. Even after straitening her clothes and splashing her flushed face with water the woman still knew she’d been spanked. As time passed however she noticed that the maid would hover around the classroom more and more frequently. Even her attitude towards Charlotte had become increasingly less respectful. After the confusion regarding her status in the house had been resolved Mary had been at least respectful to her. She had begun referring to her as ma’am, at least when Miss Francis or her husband were within earshot. But as time passed and her true status had become clear, so Mary’s attitude had changed. Now she would grin whenever she caught Charlotte sobbing or holding her caned backside. Once when she came out of the schoolroom after a particularly vicious application of the hairbrush to her pert backside Charlotte had run slap bang into the maid causing her to stumble and drop her coal scuttle and disperse its contents all over the carpet.

An hour later Charlotte was stood, arms behind her back, in front of her husband’s desk. She was sobbing and her eyes were red-rimmed with crying.

“Let’s try one more time Charlotte. Mrs Francis has told me that she spanked you with the hairbrush for inattention, is that correct?”

“Yes sir.” When she was dressed in uniform, her husband had decreed it was more appropriate for his young wife to refer to him as 'sir'.

“Mary tells me that when you ran out of the schoolroom, she sympathised with you but in return you lashed out at her causing her to spill coal on the carpet. Is that a correct interpretation of events?”

“N...no sir, most certainly not. I accidently bumped into Mary and she dropped the coal. It wasn’t my fault sir.”

“Didn’t you see the poor girl? She was after all merely carrying out her duties.”

“N...no sir. My eyes were f...full of water sir. I was trying to clear my vision when we ran into each other.”

“So, you admit it was your inattention that was the cause of the collision?”

“Y...yes I suppose so, but my bottom it stung so much that I didn’t really n...notice her until...”

“Enough please Charlotte, you sound like a whining child. Do you accept that you were rightfully punished for inattention?”

“Yes sir.”

“So therefore you can hardly blame Miss Francis, can you?”

“No sir.”

“It appears to me that if you didn’t notice Mary carrying a coal scuttle that is also inattention. “

“Yes sir.”

“Despite being correctly punished for that very same offence mere seconds earlier?”

“Yes sir.” He noticed with a certain pleasure that she was beginning to cry.

“It seems to me that despite the best efforts of Miss Francis, the lesson hasn’t stuck. Perhaps you need a firmer lesson young lady? Run along and find Miss Francis and ask her to join us in my study please, oh and Charlotte ask her to bring her cane, will you?”

Charlotte could hardly believe her ears, but she certainly didn’t feel brave enough to argue with her husband when he was in one of his moods. She turned from his office and literally ran. When she returned with Miss Francis she found Mary already talking to her husband.

“Bend over my desk please Charlotte.”

She looked at him aghast. “But darling, what about Mary?”

“What about her?”

“Surely you don’t intend to punish me in front of her, darling?”

“I’m afraid that is exactly what I intend to do. I am going to ask Miss Francis to give you six strokes of the cane across your knickers and you will thank her for each one. Mary will witness your punishment because you caused her to spill the coal over the carpet. Once you have served a suitable amount of penance in the corner you will go and clear up the mess you caused, Mary will oversee your work.”

Charlotte looked at him dumbfounded. She was to be caned over her knickers while dressed as a schoolgirl, by her former housekeeper! And if that wasn’t shameful enough the whole think would be witnessed by her Irish maid. But in reality what other option did she have? With a sob she pulled up her little skirt and leaned across the wooden desk.

“If you could do the honours Miss Francis?”

Miss Francis certainly could do the honours. The first stroke of the thin cane bit into my wife’s delightful little bottom. She shrieked in pain, Miss Francis tapped her again with the stick,

“O...one, thank you Miss Francis.”

The second stroke was, if anything, firmer still and had a similar effect. As I stood and watched the weal’s raised on her already inflamed buttocks I was suddenly aware of Mary’s slim hand stroking the front of my trousers. I was immediately hard, my wife was facing away from me and was unaware of the attention I was receiving. If Mrs Francis was aware, I neither knew nor cared.

“Aaagg...Th...three, thank you Miss F...Francis.”

Mary had taken a firmer hold on my engorged manhood, and I thrust my hips forward in anticipation. Unusually for me I could hardly wait until the thrashing was over. Normally I took pleasure in listening to me little wife squealing and begging as she was punished. But this time I bundled Mary out of my office with almost indecent haste and up to my bedroom. Both of struggled out of our clothes and fell onto my marital bed together. I came in an embarrassingly short time, but she was polite enough to ignore my shortcomings.

“Do you want me to clean you Stephen?” whispered the little minx.

She slid down the bed and started to take me in her mouth. She licked me down the full length of my shaft. She suddenly appeared by my side again.

“Before I give you a special clean Stephen, there is one thing.”

“What the hell do you mean? Can’t you just get back to work?” I was almost begging.

She ran a fingernail from the base of my balls to the length of my quivering tip.

“In return for an extra special clean, I want to be the one who spanks her next. Do we have a deal?”

From downstairs I could hear my dear wife squealing as Miss Francis unhurriedly caned her pretty little backside. I believe I would have promised my mistress absolutely anything right at that moment, without giving any thought to my reply I acquiesced. With a delighted squeal she kissed me and then resumed her position between my thighs.

I returned to my office thirty minutes later and was pleased to see my chastened wife still with her nose pressed against the wall. Her skirt had been tucked into the belt of her shamefully short gymslip and her delightful navy blue knickers had been pulled inside out and down to her knees. She has six quite discernible stripes decorating her backside. I sat at my desk and watched her for a little while before I called her over.

"I must apologise. my dear. My unfortunate duty should have been to stay and witness your chastisement. The truth of the matter is that I couldn't bear to see you suffer so. I sent Mary packing and then I retired to my study."

She sniffed a little and tried to smile,

"Thank you darling, that was very considerate of you. I... I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention and I do hope Mary will forgive me."

"That's very gracious my dear. I know she's only a servant, and an Irish woman but she is a sensitive soul and is surely deserving of a little respect? After all, good servants are so hard to find."

"I know, dear and I will apologise."

"It may be a good idea for you to do that now, Charlotte. Perhaps go down to the kitchen, apologise to Mary and request an apron to wear while you clean up the mess in the hall?"

She bit her lip anxiously and looked at him as if he might be having a little fun at her expense. She soon realised he wasn't though, and untucked her skirt and set off reluctantly for the kitchen. She found her maid and her housekeeper sat together at the well-scrubbed wooden table, eating cake and drinking tea together like the best of friends. Both looked up as she entered but neither made a move to stand,

"Yes, young missy? Was there something you wanted, a little cold-cream for your burning backside was it?" asked Miss Francis in a mocking sort of tone.

The dark, Irish girl laughed in appreciation of the witticism.

"N...no, Miss F...Francis."

"Then why are you down here you fool, stuttering like an imbecile?"

"S...Step. Sorry, Captain Darnley sent me to apologise to M...Mary, and to beg her forgiveness."

The maid smiled again and gave a high-pitched giggle,

"Apologise to me, Miss Charlotte, whatever for?

Charlotte managed to blush a deeper shade of red than at any previous time in her nineteen years.

"I...I beg your pardon, Mary. For knocking you over in the hall, a...and spilling your coal on the floor."

"That's so lovely, Charlotte. But shouldn't an apology be accompanied with a little curtsey? That's assuming your apology is heartfelt?"

"Oh, it is Miss Francis. I am truly sorry."

"in that case, let's hear it again but this time with a pretty little curtsey. And do try not to stutter, you sound like a child rather than the mistress of the house."

Both her housekeeper and her maid looked at each other and giggled.

"I beg your pardon, Mary. For knocking you over in the hall, and for spilling your coal on the floor." She repeated the humiliating phrase and then curtseyed properly s she had been taught.

"Apology accepted, Miss Charlotte. I do hope we can still be friends?"

Only Charlotte's good breeding prevented her from simply staring at the girl. Friends? Was the woman quite mad? She was an heiress, the only daughter of one of Salisbury's most important families. Mary was a maid who's family probably lived in a bog in the middle of Ireland for all she knew or cared. She realised that both women were looking at her expectantly and waiting for an answer.

"Um...er, yes of course, Mary. We are still friends."

The Irish woman smiled again but said nothing.

"If that's everything, child, it's high time you got back to your lessons. There are still plenty of areas where you're still behind, as well you know.

Charlotte flushed again,

"Erm, c...could I have an apron please, if you have one spare that is?"

"Whatever for, child?"

"Captain Darnley has requested that I...that I clean up the mess I caused earlier." She looked at her shiny shoes and fidgeted with the hem of her pleated gymslip.

"Of course, dear, no sense in getting your school uniform dirty is there?  I still have your old aprons ironed and stored away. I'll get one for you now.

Miss Francis went out to the storeroom leaving Charlotte and her maid alone together.

"So, I heard you get your caning Charlotte? You kicked up an awful fuss, did it hurt?"

Once again charlotte was dumfounded. She tried to remember an occasion when any of their African staff had been so rude. Her daddy would have simply thrashed a maid and dismissed her for that sort of shameful familiarity.

"I..I...don't..."

They could both hear Miss Francis returning.

"Maybe you can show me your backside later on Miss Charlotte, when we're alone again perhaps?"

This time Charlotte couldn't stop her jaw from dropping open. What on earth did the heartless vixen mean by that?

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