Marie, The Unlucky Housemaid by Jessica Verdi Author's note: This is a revised version of a previously posted story, taking into account the constructive criticism I received from various readers. Chapter 1 - A Dog's Dinner Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding. The big grandfather clock struck five. It surely wouldn't be long before Lord Smethrington arrived back from his shooting trip. For Marie, the moment was one of anticipation and dread. It meant that it would soon be teatime. A mass of footsteps then the deep gravelly tones of middle-aged men could be heard in the hallway. When the study door creaked open six stout men came in, all wearing their hunting tweeds. Marie became agitated. She wasn't expecting her Master to bring back visitors. "Whisky, Stephen?" Lord Smethrington offered, standing next to the drinks cabinet. "Spot on, Smethers. I deserve a double I think!" While the six gentlemen had their favourite tipples poured from crystal decanters they continued their animated conversation about the thirty brace of grouse they had bagged that afternoon. "Gentlemen! May I say that was top shooting all round this afternoon. Cheers to you all!" A hearty chorus of 'Cheers!' was returned heartily by the other men. Lord Smethrington was always the most congenial host as well as the landowner of some of the finest game shooting in the county. "Let's all sit down and relax while the kitchen prepares your birds for you." Marie feared that any moment now, she would become the topic of their conversation. They herded themselves over to the fireplace which was surrounded by three burgundy leather Chesterfield sofas. One of the men spotted Marie and he grinned with delight. "And what do we have here then?" He moved closer for a better look. "Oh, don't mind her. That's Marie, a pretty young maid for sure, but rather clumsy. She dropped a box of the wife's best china a few days ago. This is to teach her a lesson." Marie's fair skin acquired a deep red blush and she cast her eyes down as the men approached her. The six gentlemen looked down at poor Marie with not an ounce of sympathy between them. On the antique Persian rug in front of the log fire lay Marie, on her belly, shame-faced and neatly hog-tied. Bands of thick white rope held her wrists fully drawn back and secured to her stocking-clad ankles. Several bands of rope were wrapped around her upper chest and provided the tie-off point for the wrist and ankle ropes high up on her back. Neat loops around her thighs ensured her legs remained chastely closed. The white of the rope contrasted delightfully with the black satin of her maid's uniform. The wispy strands of Marie's red hair peeked out from under the maid's headpiece giving the only touch of colour to her ensemble. Lying helplessly on her belly had caused her short skirt to ride up, revealing a glimpse of the smooth young skin of her thigh, as well as black stocking tops with a garter attached. All the men observed this tantalising sight but it would have been poor etiquette for gentlemen to comment on such a thing! "She's a good girl really, only just turned seventeen years old, but like all the younger housemaids she still needs some firm discipline on a regular basis." He stood over her to check the housekeeper's rope-work. "Marie!" "Yes Master?" She looked up at him timidly, her pale blue eyes welled up with tears. "Have you been a good girl today?" "Yes Master, I cleaned the bed chambers in the morning and at midday the housekeeper tied me up as you instructed. I've been laying here like a good girl since then." Marie replied meekly. That wasn't quite true. In the middle of the afternoon she had a little tantrum, frantically tugging against the ropes. Her exhausting but futile effort was followed by half an hour of gentle self-pitying sobbing. To her great embarrassment she noticed that one of the men present was the young Lord Barkerstall. She had an infatuation for this handsome man since she first encountered him while working in silver service at a dinner party. That evening he had smiled at her many times as she served him the various courses. He seemed impressed by her coy prettiness, while she became absurdly fixated with him. Marie foolishly hoped that one day she might be able to enter his employment if only she could impress him again. Now that he had seen her bound and humiliated at his feet, he would surely realise that she was just another clumsy stupid housemaid! "How long do you intend to keep the girl restrained like this?" asked Barkerstall. "Oh. Not very long really. From midday until nine in the evening for three consecutive days, and this happens to be her third day. I admit that it's not much of a punishment; so after she is released every evening, she goes straight up to her bed chamber to receive ten strokes of the cane before being put to bed. Perhaps if I still have the pleasure of your company at that time, you could come up and watch. I'm sure that would put you in the right frame of mind before returning home to your fine lady wife!" He gave Barkerstall a knowing wink. Barkerstall was flattered that he had become such a regarded friend of the esteemed Lord Smethrington. "I should like that very much Sir, and would consider it an honour to witness how maids are correctly disciplined." "Then it's agreed, my young man. The honour would be mine if you would consent to contributing a few of the strokes yourself!" The host switched his attention to another guest: Lord Fothringham had been admiring Marie's lovely young body as she shifted slightly in her tight rope bondage. He considered himself a connoisseur in matters pertaining to the punishment of women and young girls. The notorious disciplinarian had a question of his own for Smethrington. "Don't you think she is getting off rather lightly, laying there idly when there is so much work in maintaining your fine house?" Smethrington laughed. "Yes, my old friend, you are right of course. But there always seems to be one maid or another that needs punishment so our staffing rotas have this taken into account." He noticed a moment in the doorway. "Talking of maids, here comes the lovely Sylvie, it must be Marie's tea time." Sylvie, demure and almost too elegant for a housemaid, immaculate in her black and white maid's uniform entered the room. She curtsied towards the men but averted her eyes from theirs, and carried the small silver tray over to Marie. The tray, with its two shallow silver bowls was placed on the rug about a foot in front of Marie's nose. With another curtsey to the gentlemen, Sylvie quietly exited the room, relieved that she had not drawn attention to herself. She was Marie's dearest friend but knew better than to speak with or touch her hog-tied colleague at such a time. Marie's stomach rumbled, having had neither food nor water since breakfast. Eyeing the contents of the bowls hungrily, she felt her mouth watering. She strained her neck to look up at her master, hoping he would give the signal to begin eating. "You may eat when the clock strikes the half hour." Smethrington instructed. Marie knew all to well that the clock chimed ever quarter hour so figured it might only be a few minutes before the half hour. She concentrated her stare on the bowls to the exclusion of all else. The clock chimed twice. "Alright, Marie. You may eat now." Marie was aware of the men's amused laughing as she jerked and squirmed on her belly, but it made no difference; she was hungry. Eventually she wriggled herself the twelve inches to reach the silver tray and its contents. Her tea-time meal tonight was the same as every night: One bowl contained water, the other some dry dog biscuits. Calling it 'tea-time' was just another cruel reminder of her punishment. At the same moment she knew that the other maids would be sitting down to enjoy tea and cakes in the kitchen. After lapping up some water (because she wasn't permitted to put her lips in it), she picked up the first biscuit between her fine white teeth. It was impossible to eat those hard biscuits without making a loud crunching sound. At first the men at first found highly amusing, before realising that her noise interfered with their ongoing conversation. It was shameful enough having to eat in such lowly manner, but the intrusive noise from her constant crunching seemed designed to embarrass her even further. A female shout from the hallway interrupted the conversation. "No, Barney, No! Come here!" The panicking maid's voice called out. Barney, the exuberant springer spaniel bounded into the room with his tail wagging. Within moments his nose had tracked down Marie's biscuits. "No Barney, please don't," Marie pleaded softly with the dog. She was helpless to prevent him chomping down all her biscuits and slurping up the water, before giving her an affectionate and very wet lick across her mouth and nose. Barney romped from the room of his own accord as quickly as he had arrived. The men roared with laughter as Marie tried in vain to suppress her miserable tears rolling down her dog-wetted face. She knew that her master could have grabbed the dog before he gulped down her biscuits. Marie decided she get her revenge and steal some of Barney's biscuits when she fed him the following morning. "That'll teach her to eat her meal quicker in future, won't it?" Her master chortled, caused another peel of laughter at Marie's expense. The tearful, wet-faced and still-hungry Marie didn't notice handsome Barkerstall's smile, which contained the same desire and lust for her as it had at the dinner party; and perhaps, just perhaps, a trace of pity too. -oOo- After the gentlemen departed merrily on their way, warmed by their drinks and the log fire, Marie found herself alone in with just the embers of the log fire for company. She was utterly defeated and subdued by the ropes of the housekeeper's expert hog-tie and her maid's corset seemed tighter than ever. Lady Smethrington was 'at home' that evening, which meant she was expecting visitors. Lord S had gone off to see somebody and wouldn't be back until whipping time. So Marie was alone in the study with just a small dying fire in the fireplace to keep her company until His return. The door to the study was closed but Marie could still hear the sound of the doorbell and the arrival of visitors. It was Lady S's needlework group for their Wednesday evening get-together. Marie liked to serve the tea to this group of ladies, as they were usually so very nice to her. She wanted to be in the parlour serving their tea, not in the Master's study trussed up in his ropes. The thought that the social evening would go on without her presence being missed made her feel quite miserable. A large tear ran down her nose, tickling her until she rubbed her nose back and forth on the rug to wipe it away. Marie was supposed to stay on her belly, which they said was the correct and most dignified position for a hog-tied maid, but she discovered that if she rocked herself from side to side, with a little effort she could roll herself onto her side. That meant she could bend a little at the hips, and in so doing, obtain some relief from the continuous strain on her back. It was also a way of passing some time: She stayed on her left side until the clock chimed the quarter hour, then she would roll back onto her belly. When the clock chimed the half hour she would rock herself onto her right side, the back onto her belly. She would quickly roll back onto her belly if she heard somebody entering the study. It was pathetic, but she thought herself quite clever that no-one had discovered her little trick. Midway through the evening Marie heard the distant sound of the grand piano in the parlour. Lady S loved music and would always invite people to play and sing. After a few charming minuets on the piano, she heard the beautiful soprano voice of Isabella, the nineteen year old daughter of Lady S. She sang an aria from Bellini's La Somnabula. How could such a horrible person have such an angelic voice, Marie thought bitterly; Lord Smethrington should be punishing his horrible daughter instead of their housemaids! She started tugging at her bonds angrily just making things worse for herself. Isabella sung three delightful bel canto arias before accepting the warm applause and compliments of the house guests. Then there was a pause where the scraping of chair legs on the polished floor signified that the room was being rearranged. There followed what Marie thought of as 'proper music', a piano, violin and cello playing Beethoven's 'Ghost' trio. It was nice, Marie thought, but a little sad too. During that piece the door to the study creaked open, and a frail voice called out softly, and Marie quickly rolled herself back on to her belly. "Psst. Marie?" Marie recognised Lady Winthorpe's quivering voice instantly. Such a nice old lady, always smiling and easy to please. But how did she know to find me in here? Marie wondered. "Ah, there you are, nice and warm by the fire." The old dowager in her musty clothes and too many pearls came closer. "I thought I would come and see how my favourite maid is fairing instead of falling asleep during the music." She studied Marie's petite form all parcelled up in the thick white rope. "Oh dear dear, haven't they tied you up into a pretty bundle! It's a good thing you young ones are so flexible." "Yes, Ma'am. The ropes are tight, but I'm alright I think." "Of course you are my dear. The Smethringtons always take such good care of their girls. Some of the houses around here treat their maids quite frightfully; it makes me feel faint to think of it. You really are such a lucky girl." Marie thought of her bondage, the regular caning, the tight corset they made her wear. "Yes, I know," she said, rather than contradict the old dowager. The old lady delved into her handbag and pulled out something wrapped in paper. "Look what I have for you?" she said, removing the paper from a small piece of dark chocolate. Marie's mouth began salivating as she stared transfixed by the small cube of chocolate in the lady's hand. The old lady bent down creakily and Marie' mouth was wide open and ready to receive the morsel, like a hungry chick in the nest, but the old lady held it an inch or two out of her reach. "Take it nice and gentle like a good girl," the old woman instructed, and Marie felt her neck stretching like a turtle as she managed to bite the chocolate gently and take it from the old ladies grasp. Did the old lady think she was a little terrier that may bite her fingers off? Marie wondered. Marie immediately moved the chocolate to the side of her mouth. Despite her hunger, she was going to suck on the chocolate to make it last as long as possible! Lady Winthorpe tickled Marie's chin affectionately. "I will see you next week, won't I?" she asked, somewhat uncertainly as if worried for her own self, more than Marie. "Yes Ma'am of course you will. I promise to serve your tea next week," Marie said, mustering up a reassuring smile that seemed to please the old lady. "Bye bye Marie," Lady Winthorpe said with her frail and quivering voice as she shuffled out of the study, gently closing the study door behind her. -oOo- Marie was still sucking on the small chunk of chocolate when the study door opened again. She moved the remainder of the chocolate to the side of her mouth so she might enjoy it later. Marie's heart sank when she saw that Isabella had entered the study. She had the widest, sweetest, cruellest smile on her face as she floated across the room to stand in front of Marie. "Did you hear my singing? They all said I was wonderful! Don't I look lovely in my new dress?" Isabella spun around to show off the flowing silk on her slim body. "Yes, Miss Isabella. You look lovely," Marie conceded. It was true, she did. She always looked lovely. "And how are you doing Marie?" Isabella asked with the same smile on her face. "You really do look quite pathetic all trussed up like our Christmas goose. Does it hurt?" "Yes. Miss Isabella. My whole body is aching terribly." Marie replied, hoping for some pity. "GOOD! You deserve it for being so careless with mummy's best china. I don't know why my parents keep you here. You're not fit to be a maid in our house, you're an embarrassment to the household. You're not even worthy enough to lick my boots." Marie fought back the tears brought on by Isabella's onslaught. She didn't know why Isabella hated her so much, although the cook said it was jealousy, because Marie was so much prettier. Marie assumed the cook was just teasing her as everybody else did. "Do you like my new boots?" Isabella asked, as if Marie was all of a sudden her best friend. "Oh yes, Miss Isabella. They are so lovely." Marie had a perfect view of them, just inches from her nose. They were indeed beautiful. Powder blue shiny patent leather, tightly laced to mid calf with a slim elegant heels. Marie could only dream of wearing such elegant footwear. Isabella sighed. "But they get dirty so easily. Perhaps, Marie, you may be worthy enough to lick my boots. Why don't you try?" Marie studied the shiny leather in front of her nose. The boots were in pristine condition as if they had never been outdoors. With the remains of the chocolate in her mouth there was a risk that Marie might dirty the boots instead of cleaning them. She swallowed quickly, mourning the waste. Then Marie stretched her neck slightly, stuck out her tongue tentatively, and tasted the toe of the left boot. Isabella's foot stayed right where it was indicating that Marie should continue her licking. Seeing Marie's tongue darting in and out, pretending to clean her boots Isabella wore the broadest of smiles and felt a shiver of pleasure go right through her. When Marie looked up at her with those beautiful pleading eyes, pale blue like her boots, Isabella felt something most peculiar stirring in her body, peculiar, but very nice indeed! That was why she so loved to tease Marie. Marie continued to lick as Isabella rotated her boot to offer her each section in turn. Thankfully the boots were not coated with polish, so Marie licked them thoroughly, fully extending her tongue around the heel and under the arch, spurred on by Isabella's occasional words of encouragement. Perhaps, she thought, Isabella might be nice to her if she does a satisfactory job. She nearly had the boots licked with the study door creaked open. Lady S looked in from the doorway. "Ah, there you are darling. Would you like to sing another aria for us?" "Oh, very well then." Isabella responded petulantly as if she really was not inclined to do so. She loved singing and being adored for it, but would hate anyone to know how much she craved their compliments. "Darling, why don't you leave Marie alone now? It's no use our punishing her if you then give her all your attentions. She will think she is being rewarded not punished!" "You are quite right Mummy, I really shouldn't be so kind to her. I'm coming right now." Isabella walked away from Marie without a word or so much as a backwards glance as she left the study. Poor Marie was alone again, hoping desperately that Isabella was pleased with her. Her fingers fumbled casually with the cord around her ankles. The housekeeper knew what she was doing in matters of rope: All the knots were well out of reach of Marie's exploring fingers. Marie's fingers touched her maid's shoes. Her footwear looked acceptable only because she was responsible for keeping them clean and shiny, but they were crude, poorly made and ill fitting. She imagined that her fingers were touching those elegant patent leather boots that Isabella wore, and that her tongue now knew intimately. All she had to look forward to was a life of servitude. Living amongst and caring for the fine things that she would never own; cleaning clothes that she would never wear; licking shoes that she would never walk in. Regardless of the punishment that awaited her, Marie's heart leapt for joy when she heard the grandfather clock finally strike nine. Sylvie came promptly to untie her. Marie was bewildered that despite hours of fruitless struggles against the ropes, Sylvie just made couple of simple tugs on the cords and the ropes fell away as if by magic. -oOo- Sylvie helped the weakened and unsteady Marie downstairs to their quarters, where the lacing bar awaited her. Hanging from the ceiling in their dressing room was a three-foot long iron bar. At each end were loops of thick soft cord. It was so simple - the maid stood on the small wooden box beneath the bar, inserted her hands through the loops and pulled down so the slip knots in the cords tightened around her wrists. Then she stepped of the wooden box and kicked it away. Et voila! She was helpless, unable to free herself without somebody's assistance. The maids were all familiar with the lacing bar, not just because of the canings, such as Marie was about to receive, but because they encountered it every day. Each morning she would use it for its primary purpose of holding her body outstretched while being laced into her strict corset. It was the same technique used by Lady Smethrington, who led by example in matters of corsetry. Once Marie had been secured by the lacing bar, her hands held high, Sylvie carried out the rest of her instructions. She had some torn cotton sheeting in her hand. "I'm so sorry Marie. Open your mouth up. I have to gag you tonight." Sylvie said apologetically. Marie frowned, but knew that Sylvie had to obey her instructions. She opened her mouth and allowed it to be stuffed with a large volume of material. Sylvie did not stop until Marie's mouth had been packed full to overflowing, then she used a final piece as a tight cleave gag around her head to hold all the packing in place. Next Sylvie turned her attention to Marie's bottom. Her hands reached up under Marie's skirt and located the skirt-cords. These were two short lengths of thin fabric sewn to the inside waistband of Marie's dress. Marie never wore a dress or skirt that didn't have these cords. Sylvie lifted up the rear of Marie's skirt and used the skirt-cords to bunch up the skirt fabric between it and its equivalent loop on the outside, just like gathering a curtain. She pulled down Marie's panties so they dropped to the floor. Hearing two pairs of heavy footsteps coming down the staircase Sylvie quickly collected Marie's panties and disappeared into the safety of her room. "Ah, there she is!" Lord S said to Barkerstall as they emerged into the maids' dressing room. They stood a few yards away to take in the view of fully exposed Marie's pale buttocks and thighs above her stocking tops. "Isn't that a rump fit for caning? There again, I seldom see one that isn't!" He laughed at his own joke, while Barkerstall honoured him with a polite smile. "Marie!" She turned her head to look over her shoulder at her master. His fat fingers probed the entrance of her mouth to test the fullness of its packing. Luckily for Sylvie, he seemed satisfied. "Decided to gag the girl after last night's outburst. Her pathetic noises woke the little ones up. Most inconsiderate of her. Lady S was none too pleased with either of us!" His fingers pinched Marie's chin to ensure she kept her head turned towards them. "Notice the look in Marie's eyes. That's fear and respect. This isn't a game, she knows how much these strokes are going to hurt. Isn't that right Marie?" Marie nodded weakly, her eyes moistening with tears. For just a split second her eyes met Barkerstall's and she knew she was still infatuated with the handsome young nobleman. Tied and gagged, and about to be soundly thrashed, she felt utterly unworthy of Barkerstall's attention. It was as humiliating as it was painful. It didn't occur to her that Barkerstall's being there might be a sign of his interest in her. Lord S picked up the cane that hung on a hook near the door. He swished it through the air several times as if to warm up his swing, enjoying the almost musical whooshing of the cane as it sliced through the air. He took up his position with all the care of a golfer at the first tee. With great deliberation he raised the cane in an elegant back-swing and let it fly. Marie heard the cane a split second before it struck forcefully in the middle of her buttocks. The pain seemed to reverberate through her, but so well gagged and secured to the lacing bar was she that there was little outward reaction other than a gentle swaying from her body. Lord S waited quietly in position for the moment when Marie settled back into position, then immediately struck again, and again, and again. After seven satisfying strokes he passed the cane to young Barkerstall. "Please. Be my guest!" Lord S said. Barkerstall took the cane and swished it through the air to warm up. He wasn't a big fan of corporal punishment, but like all gentry he accepted it was an integral part of keeping discipline on a country estate. Unlike Lord Smethrington, his interest in the female of the species extended beyond seeing them as a canvas on which to practice his whipping strokes. His first stroke made little impression on either Marie or her master. Lord S tutted disapprovingly. "Not bad, but I think we can improve on that," Lord S said tactfully. "You have to find your ideal stance, then make a smooth back-swing then follow smoothly and with power." Lord S gripped Barkerstall's arms as he manhandled the young man into place then showed him how to position his feet and how to grip the cane. It was apparently more of an art than Barkerstall ever imagined. "That's right my boy - a firm grip but not too tense. Nice smooth swing back, rotate the body only slightly then forcefully forward, keeping a good balance." Lord S took him through the process in slow motion several times. Marie listened to the instructions great interest, almost forgetting that she was about to suffer as a direct result of the coaching. At one point she turned to look over her shoulder at the instruction, but Lord S saw her, and with the merest stare from him she knew to turn around and await her next punishment. Barkerstall's next swipe was much better, at least from the men's point of view. The next blow was better still, almost as good as Lord S himself. Marie was disappointed to learn the cane hurt just as much regardless of the hand that wielded it. Yet, somehow she felt different when Barkerstall did it, as if she was being sacrificed by him and to him. Barkerstall handed Lord S the cane. "Thank you Sir for allowing me to contribute to Marie's punishment and for your excellent coaching." Lord S laughed. "Oh, but we have one more to go. We can't possibly count your first stroke, can we Marie?" After a moment's hesitation Marie shook her head, mmmphing into her gag; obligated to agree with her employer. With Lord S's cajoling, Barkerstall lined up to deliver the last stroke, determined to impress the old man, and briefly forgetting that those punished buttocks he was taking aim at belonged to a young, innocent housemaid. That final stroke was the worst, but again Marie felt different knowing that it came from Barkerstall. The two men approached the quivering object of their sport: Marie's striped and swollen behind. The men's fingers lightly traced the lines across her buttocks. "I think that was my fourth," Lord S said proudly. "That's going to be a beauty, it's welting already. That was my seventh. Another good mark. Probably hurt her, that one." "And this one is mine," Barkerstall offered, running a finger tenderly but very deliberately over the full width of two exquisite but horribly marked buttocks. For the first time he seemed aware of Marie's pain, and although feeling a modicum of sympathy for the girl, felt no guilt at all. Marie, meanwhile prayed he would keep running his fingers back and forward on her buttocks for a while longer, and to her shame she must have shifted her body in a fashion that made her desire clear. Lord S noticed it. "I do believe she enjoys it when you stroke her like that." Lord S commented, amused by Marie's little movements. "It mystifies me, but this kind of punishment does peculiar things to some women. Hard to believe they can become sexually aroused by a good solid caning. Hadn't noticed before, but maybe Marie is of that disposition. Or perhaps it's you she likes!" Barkerstall laughed. "You know, she is pretty thing in her way, and quite shapely." "All down to Lady S's corsetry I assure you. Young women these days have no shape at all. As for being pretty - I do not care for the red hair. No, not at all! Look at this." He led Barkerstall around their victim to view to her front side, keen to make his point. "This..." his said, using his finger and thumb to tug on Marie's red pubic hair "...is most unattractive. Although of course you are entitled to your opinion." With a fraternal pat on the back Lord S led Barkerstall from the maid's dressing room with the invitation of a 30 year old Glenmorangie nightcap before his carriage arrived. -oOo- Sylvie came to release Marie from the lacing bar as soon as the gentlemen had gone. She found her friend desperate to have the copious wadding removed from her mouth, giving the impression she was about to choke. Sylvie quickly emptied her mouth of its stuffing. "He said I was pretty!" Marie blurted out, a beaming ecstatic smile incongruous on her tear-stained face. "Marie!" Sylvie stood hands on hips. "Everybody says you are pretty, but you don't usually believe them. Now let's get you untied and ready for bed." She helped Marie to undress, releasing her from the restrictive corset. After putting on her nightgown, Marie went straight to bed - the bed she shared, innocently, with Sylvie. -oOo- Morning came too quickly for Marie, disturbing her naive and hopelessly infatuated thoughts of Lord Barkerstall. After a cold strip wash, Marie, Sylvie and the other housemaids dressed for work. They donned their well-worn yet clean white cotton chemise and their black stockings. Marie was the first to slip her wrists up into the loops of the lacing bar. The other maids fussed over her as they held the crude corset around her torso, clipped together the busk in front, and then laced her in as tightly as they could, leaving Marie momentarily breathless. Her slim youthful shape became transformed into something quite dramatic. Her waist was nipped in by the corset while her hips flaring elegantly below it. Marie proudly displayed a soft little balcony of her pale breast formed at the top of her corset. -oOo- When Isabella's regular maid on other duties, or perhaps being punished, Marie was called upon to help with Isabella's dressing and undressing. Marie walked into Isabella's bedroom one evening to be greeted by the smile on Isabella's face that showed how much she enjoyed having Marie. "Hang the dress up properly, Marie, and make sure it doesn't crease." Isabella smiled as she watched Marie stretch her lithe young body to put the dress on the rail, studiously watching Marie's tiny waist and trim figure. "Now loosen the laces of my corset!" Isabella commanded in her coquettish voice. Marie turned and curtsied, then moved behind Isabella. Unlike the maid's crude but highly functional foundation garments, Isabella's own corset was a work of art. The elaborately embroidered pink satin garment fitted Isabella perfectly. Marie's fascination with Isabella's clothing equalled Isabella's fascination with the young Marie. Marie pulled apart the lace bow at the top of the Isabella's corset. Then, hooking her fingers into the laces, she released the tension from one eyehole at a time. Isabella enjoyed the liberating feeling of the gradual release from her constricting garment. The laces were soon loosened enough to allow Isabella to breathe deeply and her bare breasts emerged like blossoming flowers. Isabella raised her arms upwards in a luxuriating stretch. "Thank you Marie, I'm so glad to be out of this thing." Marie, in her much more constricting garment, was filled with envy but gave Isabella a forced smile. Isabella stared at her maid, as if sizing her up for something. Impulsively she jumped from the bed and pulled a small box from a drawer by her bed. "Look! Marie." She slowly opened the box. Marie was expecting to see Isabella's latest gleaming trinket - perhaps another necklace. Instead, the object did not gleam, although there was a dull shine to it. Isabella lifted it out of the box with a reverence that Marie had never seen her show towards her other jewelry. "My uncle gave them to me. Nobody else knows about them. Marie, you must promise to tell nobody." Marie studied the handcuffs warily, confused by Isabella's fascination for them. "Turn around Marie. I want to put them on you, just to see what they look like. Don't worry. Look, here's the key!" The maid turned her back to Isabella and held her hands together behind her back. The last time she was handcuffed it was by a jailer with huge rough hands. How different it was as she felt Isabella's slim fingers tentatively clicking the cuffs around her wrists. "I don't need the key for locking them, they just click shut," Isabella explained. "They're not too tight are they? Can you escape from them?" The maid tugged her wrists. She shook her head and almost laughed at the idea that she could somehow escape. "No Miss Isabella, I cannot. I'm your prisoner now." Young Isabella shifted excitedly on the bed, savouring Marie's words. "My Prisoner. I like that! How does it feel being handcuffed like that? You have to tell me!" She was finding it hard to contain how thrilling it was having her lovely maid as a prisoner. "It feels nice. Much nicer than the last time I wore them." Marie admitted. "You've worn handcuffs before?" Isabella asked, surprised and almost jealous. "Yes when I was taken to prison last year. They kept me handcuffed like this for three days." Isabella screwed up her nose, repulsed yet fascinated by the thought of being in handcuffs for days on end. She already knew that Marie had sent to prison on a false charge of theft. "It was awful. I couldn't feed myself, or dress or clean myself." "I'm a prisoner too." Isabella announced with a sad frown; Her lips down-turned in an expression that only spoilt rich girls can make. Marie looked confused. Isabella could sometimes say the strangest things. Isabella lifted her skirts and petticoats and pulled down her knickers, giving her maid an unexpected view. "It's a chastity belt. Mama says if I want to make my family proud then nobody, not even me, should touch my flower... otherwise I might never marry. Only Mama and the head housekeeper have a key. "Marie," Isabella added softly. "Have you ever had sex?" The maid nodded in shame. "When I was in the prison, the guards sometimes undressed me completely and tied me to the corners of the bed. Then they would all have sex with me. Those are the only times." Marie added. "Do you suppose any man would want to marry me if he knew that?" "Of course they would," Isabella cheerfully comforted the maid "men of the lower classes don't worry about a woman's maidenhead! Besides, you're quite pretty for a maid." Marie tugged her wrists against the iron cuffs that held them behind her. "Miss Isabella, do you think you could release me from the shackles now?" She pleaded nicely. "Yes of course!" Isabella said excitedly, "I think it must be my turn to try them." She fumbled with the key in the locks, removed the cuffs and handed them straight to Marie - much to the maid's surprise. Isabella turned her back to Marie and looked over her shoulder at her. "Fit them on me like I did to you." Marie reluctantly locked the left one. Isabella was trembling slightly. "Wait! I have a better idea. Lock me to the bed post." "But Miss Isabella, are you sure you want to do this?" "Yes of course. I only want to try it for a minute. Just to know what it feels like. That's all." She moved to the thick oak post at the end of her four-poster bed, and Marie reluctantly obliged her young mistress. Isabella's doll-like face was a picture of blissful contentment, eyes closed, a little smile on her lips. She pretended to fight against her shackles even though it was evident that the bondage suffused her with pleasure. Marie looked on nervously. Gazing at her beautiful mistress, chained to her bedpost was stirring something inside her. "I feel like I've been captured by pirates and chained to the ship's mast. I'm a princess and they are going to sell me into slavery." Isabella said, dreamily. "When you were kept in chains, Marie, what did you think about?" Marie hesitated, but realised there was never a better time to confess her fantasy to somebody. "I dreamed I was on a stagecoach, captured by robbers in the middle of a large forest. They made us get out and handcuffed me to a tree, just like you are now." Isabella's face wore a look of concentration as she conjured up the image. "Yes. I like that. Then what happened after they chained to the tree, Marie. You must tell me everything!" "Miss Isabella. Remember. It's only a story. It didn't really happen." "Then tell me the story you imagined. Everything." "Well, okay then," Marie continued hesitantly. "I was chained to the tree much like you are to the bedpost. One of the bandits tore the dress off my shoulders to look at my breasts. I was powerless to stop him from squeezing them. He pulled the bodice down a little further until my nipples came free. He pinched them hard between his fingers making me cry out with pain but he just laughed, and said I was a dirty whore. "Did it hurt you terribly when he pinched your nipples?" Isabella enquired. "It's only a story! No it didn't really hurt." Isabella's breasts were heaving as she breathed, barely contained by her loosened corset . Marie couldn't help herself, it was easy for her to push down the fabric to reveal Isabella's firm pointed nipples. She pinched her mistress's nipples to demonstrate. "Ow!" Isabella gasped and winced at the slight pain but kept her eyes closed. "Do it again, Marie, do it again." Isabella pretended to struggle, her body writhing, fighting against yet so obviously enjoying her pretend captivity. Marie was feeling distinctly uneasy, glancing occasionally at the bedroom door, knowing it was unlocked. She knew it wasn't right to be treating her mistress this way. "I think I should unlock you now Mistress. Where is the key?" Before Isabella could answer, they both heard the echoing sound of clipping footsteps coming up the staircase. "Haven't you got it? Marie." Isabella's eyes were now wide open. "But Miss Isabella, I didn't need the key to put the cuffs on you." "Maybe it's on the floor. I might have dropped it. Look on the floor. Quickly!" Isabella was almost jumping with tension. The footsteps had reached the top of the stairs. Isabella's struggles against the iron cuffs became desperate and felt so different than before. "Oh God. Please find the key, Marie. It's my mother coming." There was no sign of the key on the floor or on the bed. They were both frantic, each close to tears. "Think, Miss Isabella. I beg you," Marie whimpered. "What did you do with the key when you unlocked me?" "I remember now! I tucked it in the top of my chastity belt." Marie got onto her knees in front of Isabella, her hands feeling the top hem of the chastity belt. There was no key. "Maybe it's slipped down," Isabella suggested. Just as Marie's fingers slipped beneath the section that covered Isabella's sex the bedroom door opened. Lady Smethrington stood in the doorway; her stout heavily corseted body froze in momentarily shock, unable to believe what the maid was doing to her daughter. Her loud blood-curdling scream almost deafened the two girls and sent the household staff scampering up the staircase to come to Lady Smethrington's aid. Isabella, her eyes wet with tears and sensing the trouble she would be in, did the only thing she could think of. She looked pitifully at her mother and cried out between her sobs. "Help me mummy!" When Isabella refused to look at Marie, the maid knew her fate was sealed. End of Chapter 1 (of 2)
Chapter 2 (of 2) - The Spider (Marie, The Unlucky Housemaid by Jessica Verdi) The coachman was the first to arrive in Isabella's room. He squeezed past Lady Smethrington standing in the doorframe, having just one thing in his mind. His large fist connected smartly with the side of Marie's head. She slumped to the floor, laid out cold. "Take that wretched girl out of my sight!" Lady Smethrington called out to the coachman whilst holding her tearful daughter to her breast. Her loving gesture was as much to do with shielding Isabella's naked breasts from wide-eyed staff than comforting her daughter. "I'll take her down to the stable and put her in the spider, ma'am." The coachman said, gripping Marie under her armpits and dragging her corpse-like body from the room. "Clear a path everybody, and return to your rooms. There's nothing more to see." Isabella found herself alone in the room with her fearsome mother. She was standing, still handcuffed to her bedpost, tearful and trembling. As soon as the door was closed her mother's mood changed, as it so often did. "I've a mind to leave you chained up like that tonight to teach you a lesson." Her mother scolded. "A well-bred young lady should know how to handle her servants. It is quite clear that you, young lady, do not." Lady Smethrington started stripping her sobbing daughter of her remaining undergarments until the girl stood in only stockings, chastity belt and corset. She lifted a key chain from around her own neck, the keys having been kept warm between her breasts. From around a dozen small keys she located the one for the chastity belt. "Now Isabella, I shall release you from the chastity belt for your nightly inspection. Then I must go see what Albert is doing with that frightful maid." The built-in lock at the front of the chastity belt sprung open upon the insertion of the key. Lady Smethrington eased it away from her daughter's virgin loins. The key to the handcuffs fell conspicuously onto the rug. Isabella swallowed hard knowing she was in serious trouble. At that moment Lady Smethrington was more concerned with the dampness around her daughter's labia. She ran her finger slowly over Isabella's warm sex and then licked her finger in order to ascertain the source of her daughter's effluence. "Ma-ma, it wasn't my fault," Isabella pleaded through tear-filled eyes. "It was Marie, the maid. She forced me." Her mother slapped her viciously across the face, sending Isabella crashing onto the bed. -oOo- It took four men to strip Marie down to her white cotton chemise, or perhaps it was just that four men were eager to assist with that task. Their hands gripped her arms tight enough to bruise as they prepared her the spider. Marie shook with terror. They led her to a blanket spread out on the cobbled stone floor of the stable. She was pushed down on the blanket and told to lay flat. The heavy wrought iron frame they called 'the spider' was placed across her back. It was so-called because of the iron spokes spreading out from a central body. There were actually six of them, but 'Spider' sounded more intimidating than 'Insect'. The collar at the end of one spider's leg was clamped around Marie's neck. A heavy padlock kept it in place and obliged her to face forward instead of downward, as her position would have preferred. Her wrists were next to be fitted into the heavy iron shackles at the end of two sideways facing legs. It left each of her slim wrists suspended slightly in the air behind her back, held their normal distance apart. Marie's ankles received the same treatment after first being bent back so that her feet were pointing upwards. Each limb was locked into the spider with the same heavy padlocks as they had used on her neck. The spider had one more attachment to subdue and torment of its victim - a large iron hook dangling from the middle of the frame. One of the men hand pulled up Marie's chemise to reveal her lightly striped buttocks. He smeared a dollop of grease on her anus and without preamble forced the round-tipped hook inside her. Marie screamed and begged them to take it out, but it was pushed further in until they fixed and locked it in position deep into her rectum. Albert the coachman looked down at Marie's bruised, bloody and dirty face with contempt. "I'll warrant you won't be able to cause any more mischief you dirty little strumpet. You'll stay locked in the spider until Lord Smethrington decides what do with you. I expect you'll be going back to that hell-hole of a prison where you belong!" Marie sobbed quietly, not daring to answer him for fear of what he might do next. There was the sound of strong clicking and clanking chains. Marie felt her limbs being lifted slightly as a chain crank lifted the spider an inch or two, adding to her discomfort. "Where's the key for Miss Isabella's shackles? Do you have it?" The coachman demanded. She shook her head and was about to explain that it was in Isabella's chastity belt but he started pushing something into his mouth. It was a brank; a head-shaped iron cage. Also known as the scold's bridle, the brank's main purpose was to hold an iron protrusion inside the wearer's mouth. Its secondary purpose was for public humiliation. In the enlightened era of Marie's story, nagging women were no longer paraded in public squares wearing this apparatus. Yet it remained a useful tool for chastisement on private estates like the Smethrington's. The coachman forced the brank's protruding spiked iron ball inside Marie's mouth and closed the head-cage on her. Another heavy padlock was used to keep it in place. Marie could feel the spikes digging into her tongue and soon tasted her own blood. She could feel the hook stretching her anus. How long, she wondered, before that too would be dripping blood. "Keep yer hands of 'er!" Albert warned the lusty stable lads as he headed back to the house. -oOo- The coachman could hear Isabella's screaming and crying as he walked up the grand staircase of Smethrington Manor. He'd heard those screams many times over the last 20 years. She was in the midst of receiving a robust spanking from her mother. Her being handcuffed to the bedpost had proved no obstacle to her mother's formidable right hand. The deep red colouring of Isabella's buttocks gave testament to her Lady Smethrington's ability in matters of juvenile discipline. The coachman bowed slightly as he entered Isabella's room. "Ma'am, the maid didn't have the key with her, but I can remove the shackles with tools whenever you wish." Lady Smethrington held the key aloft with a self-satisfied smile, while Isabella sobbed her heart out with her face buried in the bedclothes. "I found it in the little whore's chastity belt!" She turned to her daughter on the bed and pulled her up by her hair until she was on her feet, facing the coachman. Still handcuffed to the bedpost Isabella was unable to prevent Albert from gazing upon her breasts and sweet untainted mound. He licked his lips. Isabella looked away in shame. She knew that every servant in the Manor would soon hear of her latest beating. "What do you think Albert? Do you think she'd make a good whore? I understand the upper-class prostitutes always do very well for themselves." "I don't rightly know ma'am. You see; I don't tend to frequent such places or people." "And well you shouldn't Albert, for one never knows what filthy diseases one might catch from such a dirty whores. I fear Isabella will never make a lady, so that vocation might be all that is left to her if she doesn't mend her ways!" "Yes ma'am" Albert agreed, as he always did. "Will there be anything else tonight ma'am?" "No Albert, thank you. Tomorrow, would you arrange for the maid to be returned to prison as soon as possible." "Yes ma'am. Good night ma'am." He reversed himself out of the room with an extended bow and one more furtive but satisfying glance at Isabella's glorious teenage body. Lady Smethrington replaced the chastity belt on her daughter and finally unlocked the cuffs from her red-raw wrists. The mother's mood had changed to one of tenderness as she put her tearful daughter to bed, softly stroking Isabella's brow and declaring how much she loved her. -oOo- The stable lads gradually tired of watching Marie once they saw how little were her struggles against the cast-iron grip of the spider. With the hook and the spiked ball cruelly subduing her Marie was not inclined to provide the entertainment the stable lads hoped for. Marie spent the night in darkness, the first few hours wide awake, her mind was as tormented as her body as if too was pierced with iron spikes. Thinking of Isabella's betrayal, she felt more bewildered than hateful. She constantly recalled that moment when she kissed Isabella on the lips, almost tasting it again, -oOo- Bright sunlight flooded the stable as somebody pulled open the large stable door. Marie squinted as she faced directly into the sun's first rays. In a half-awake state, she watched and listened as the stable came to life. Horses' hooves passed within a few feet of her nose, so close she feared being trampled upon. For those who hadn't seen her last night, Marie was a curiosity. The iron spider was a punishment usually reserved for male employees of the estate. They were intrigued by the sight of delicate pale-skinned limbs of a housemaid within its brutal grip. A stableman came to unlock Marie from the spider's embrace. First to be removed was the iron hook in her rectum. He noticed there was just a little blood on the metal, but that was to be expected. The collar, wrist and ankle restraints were removed. Her limbs fell free but lifeless to the ground. The cruel brank stayed in place. He led Marie's unsteady and aching body to a bucket close by. Its purpose was self-evident. He watched her from a few yards away as she emptied her bowels. Although the hem of her dirty chemise was at mid thigh, revealing her slim naked legs, Marie's grubby body did not appeal to this particular man. Not even the prominent impressions of her nipples in the fabric of her chemise could arouse his interest. "The brank comes off for feeding once I put you back in the spider." He explained as she sat forlornly on the bucket. How cruel, she thought, that she could be rid of the brank only by yielding again to the brutal grip of the spider. She laid herself down on the blanket once more, submitting without a fight as the stableman wrenched back her aching limbs and locked the iron around them showing neither tenderness nor cruelty. Good to his word he unlocked the brank from her head and pulled the spike-ball from Marie's bruised and bloodied mouth. Agnes, one of the scullery maids, arrived with a bowl of porridge, patiently feeding Marie with a spoon and giving what comfort she could. She tenderly wiped Marie's face and hair with a damp cloth, taking extra care with the large bruise on the side of her face. Then the brank was fitted on Marie's head once more. Marie tried to take her mind off her plight by listening to the comings and goings from the stable. Later that morning a familiar voice started speaking. If Marie thought things couldn't get any worse she was about to discover that they could. "Take me to Barkerstall Hall right away, please." The voice was unmistakably Isabella's. "Yes, Miss Isabella. As you wish," replied the coachman. Marie heard the elegant jingle of the Smethrington's landau moving from the stables and out towards the main gate. Her rage had no outlet and the tears flowed once more. The hours went by and Marie felt like she'd been forgotten - even the stable boys scarcely gave her a glance as they walked by. The sun's rays had long since ceased to trouble her as it journeyed towards the other horizon. The landau had returned to the stable, but without any sign of Isabella. With the setting of the sun, the activity in the stables gradually ceased. The horses were fed, groomed and settled for the night. The same stableman that had released her in the morning returned. No doubt he'd already had a hearty supper in his tied cottage. Marie was acquainted with his wife - the prettiest milkmaid you ever did see. She knew that her own modest charms would seem as nothing to this man. His routine was the same - releasing Marie so she could sit on the bucket then back to the spider before the brank was removed. Her tongue and mouth were bruised and swollen. He pitied her but would do nothing that might put his job in jeopardy, or might even make him the spider's next victim. "The prison transport comes to collect you tomorrow afternoon," he informed her. "Good," she spluttered softly, her swollen mouth struggling to form even the simplest word. Agnes arrived with a bowl of warm broth, spooning it patiently into Marie's mouth. She opened her mouth to receive the brank again. The stableman double-checked the padlocks to ensure that Marie was secured then extinguished the remaining lamps in the stable. Later that night when all was eerily quiet on the stable block, a side door creaked open. Two people were whispering in the darkness near Marie. One of them was Agnes. Marie recognised her soft voice. The other was the cook, a well-rounded woman in all senses. She adored Marie as if she were her own child, always saying how pretty she was and giving her little gifts and treats from the kitchen. Two pairs of soft feminine hands reached out to Marie's body, caressing her limbs and massaging her limbs. The cook then pushed a cotton rag into Marie's mouth, stuffing it to capacity. Marie was worried why the kindly cook would do such a thing, but then she sensed the fabric had a benevolent purpose in protecting her mouth from the spiked ball. The cook bent down and looked Marie in the eyes. "Marie, sweetie. I thought it best to gag you because if you make a noise I might be the next one laying where you are. Do you remember when we talked about orgasms and you said you'd never had one?" "Um hmm." "...And I said how good it would make you feel." "Um hmm." "Well, I want you to try to relax. Think of this as our farewell gift." While the cook positioned herself behind Marie, Agnes took her place by Marie's head. Marie gazed up helplessly at the scullery maid, not quite comprehending what they planned to do with her. She was about to find out. The cook's hands were on Marie's buttocks, noting with dismay the large hook in her anus, which would seriously curtail her movement. It was bolted into position. The cook's fingers burrowed between Marie's thighs and traced the lips of her labia. She rubbed her warm hands against Marie's sex, with fingers occasionally slipping between the creases. "Come on, Agnes. Take hold of Marie's breasts like I showed you," the cook called out to her assistant as if teaching her another new recipe. "Squeezed them gently, nice and slow." Agnes did as instructed, her hands coming between Marie's breasts and the blanket-covered ground. With patience and determination the cook worked her fingers deeper and deeper inside Marie's vagina as she began to moisten, encouraging Marie with little words of affection until she yielded herself to the cook's touch. The wadding in her mouth muffled Marie's frequent groans. The cook's fingertips burrowed deep within Marie's vaginal walls pressing with an expert touch getting more and more response the further she went, until Marie developed a palpitating momentum of her own. Her needs took over as she clenched her enforced V shaped thighs as if hoping to trap the cook's fingers. Marie's body tensed and tugged against her unyielding bonds. When she was raped in prison she used to pray for it to stop; but whatever the cook was doing she never wanted to stop - even though it was churning her up inside in a way she had never known. Her heart was pounding with fear and excitement. She felt surprisingly warm. Her body seemed to tingle for a few moments then spasmed repeatedly. The cook never let up her actions for an instant, those strong bread-kneading fingers tireless in their efforts to take Marie all the way. "One more time, sweetie." The cook cheerfully encouraged Marie and felt the hot and pulsating vagina clenching on her hand once more. Marie was soon in rapture again, the stuffing in her mouth barely able to suppress her ecstatic moans. Worried that they might be discovered, they swiftly cleaned Marie up, removing the stuffing from her mouth and wiping dry her sex and sweaty buttocks and spine. The cook gave Marie a goodbye kiss on her buttocks. "Sleep well Marie." The two women departed from the stable as stealthily as they had arrived. Marie spent her second lonely night in the stable. This time she slept. -oOo- Releasing Marie for her statutory toilet break, the stableman informed her that the prison transport would collect her in the afternoon. Marie was glad. Despite the cook inducing her first-ever orgasm the night before, she was desperate to escape the limb-wrenching clutches of the spider. After Agnes had spoon-fed her with the usual bowl of porridge, Marie steeled herself to endure the last few hours of the spider's torment. Prison would be luxury by comparison with what she'd suffered. "Take me to Barkerstall Manor." A haughty female voice requested of the driver. It was the last voice Marie wanted to hear, saying the last thing she wanted to hear. Isabella was heading to Lord Barkerstall's as she did yesterday. Marie felt foolish for never guessing of the relationship between her mistress and the man she adored. If the spider had allowed her to beat her head on the ground she surely would have done. Instead she chewed on the spiked ball, her mangled tongue and gums long since immune to the pain. Marie tried to tell herself it didn't matter. She would soon be on her way to prison and would never see either of them again. Lunchtime for the employees came and went. For Marie, there would be no lunch, only a period in the day when the general noise around her ceased. She was half asleep when the bucket of chilly water was tipped over her. "Release the girl!" Lord Smethrington commanded of his stablemen. They obeyed and Marie was soon standing up unsteadily, free of all bonds except the grip of a stableman on each arm. She was shivering with cold whilst at the same time trembling with fear at Smethrington's threatening manner. Despite her dirty skin and clothing, and her bruised and swollen face, she only aroused contempt in him. She was, after all the one who had molested his sweet innocent daughter. "I'm sure you recognise these," He held up Isabella's infamous handcuffs, then tossed them to a stableman. "Put them on her, good and tight." The stableman obeyed his employer, clicking the closed as far as they would go. Marie felt the metal digging painfully into already chafed wrists. Lord Smethrington held up the handcuff key, which was threaded on a long length of string. If only Isabella had done that, Marie thought regretfully. Smethrington placed it over her head like a crude necklace. He tucked it into her chemise, indifferent as his hands brushed against her small breasts. Marie could feel the key, cool against her sternum. So close, yet out of reach. "Leave us now!" Smethrington commanded the two stablemen. They nodded and left the stable, closing the door behind them. "Marie," Smethrington said sternly, while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, "I want to give you something to remember me by. Turn around and lean forward onto the table." Marie turned and saw the heavy timber table used for the leatherworking. She leant forward onto its dented and splintering surfaced, having to stand on tiptoes. Smethrington lifted the rear hem of her soiled chemise between finger and thumb; with a look of utter disgust on his face. "Hold this." He thrust the fabric into Marie's cuffed hands. She gripped the bunched up material in her hands knowing it left her buttocks exposed for her Master's pleasure. Smethrington's chosen implement was a leather rein that hung conveniently nearby. He lashed out with a merciless brutality across her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. If anything, her crying and screaming encouraged him further. The onslaught continued beyond anything Marie had ever known. Her punishment stopped only because of the lack of unmarked skin. It left Smethrington in the mood for a final parting gift to his errant housemaid. Marie could hear his crude grunting as he lowered his breeches and pushed his fat body against her rear. She felt his erection pressing against her tenderised skin. "Don't want you to carry any son of mine!" Smethrington growled while pushing two fingers into Marie's anus. Having that large hook in her sphincter for the best part of two days had left if weakened to invasion. He rammed his penis fully home into Marie's rear, painfully stretching her with his thick member. He bumped her repeatedly against the rough wooden table until grunting his way to a climax. With slow violent lunges he took great pleasure in injecting his seed deep within her. Whatever else one might say about Lord Smethrington, he prided himself on his timekeeping. No sooner had he withdrawn from Marie's wretched body than there was a knock on the stable door. The carriage had arrived to take her to the woman's prison. He snatched the hem of Marie's garment from her hands in order to wipe his penis with it. Then he led Marie out into the bright sunlight. "Is this the one?" The prison escort asked. Even he, having worked for the prison for several years, had seldom seen anything quite so appalling. "Any possessions?" "She's wearing them. The key is around her neck." Smethrington chuckled. The prison escort approached Marie with a wet rag. She was expecting him to wipe her face. "Open up." She did so, revealing her swollen and bloody tongue to him. He pushed the rag in slowly, mindful of the girl's pain. Then he unrolled a white cotton garment that Marie didn't recognise, but she saw it had laces like a corset. He put it over her head so the laces were at the back of her head. It was a hood. He tugged gentle on the laces gradually taking out the slack until the shape of Marie's head had been restored. Marie's world had turned white, only the bright sunlight penetrated the hood. She was led over to the two-horse open cart. Already seated on the side benches behind the driver were three other women, each was hooded like Marie, although they were far better dressed than she. The escort helped her to step up into the cart. She found herself seated on the bench touching shoulders. The back of her ankles were pushed into wooden cutouts at the base of the bench that appeared designed for that purpose, then the escort fitted its equivalent shape on the front of her ankles. It slotted into place leaving Marie's ankles immovable on the floor of the cart. The cart jogged into motion. Marie sobbed. She hadn't a chance to say goodbye to anybody. She was glad of the hood. It hid her tears and her shame as the cart slowly made its way to the women's prison. The ultimate indignity was that Lord Smethrington's semen was implanted deep within her bowels; she could still feel its coldness running through her, sending a chill her stomach. The thought of it was making her feel sick and there was nothing she could do about it. The prison, with all its brutality and squalor would be a welcome relief. -oOo- Half an hour down the road the cart seemed to change direction. The distinctive crunching gravel sound under the cartwheels had Marie's heart pounding. She feared they had arrived back at Smethrington Manor. They came to a halt in front of a large mansion where several people were waiting. An elegant middle-aged woman was accompanied by a younger woman. It was the lady of the manor with her daughter-in-law. The gentile group looked in horror at the four hooded and bound women. The prison escort leapt down from his seat and politely addressed the elder lady. "Good afternoon Ma'am. I was told you have six guineas for me." "That's correct. Bring the girl here." She handed him a brown envelope. Moving to the back of the cart, he opened the low gate, reaching in to release Marie's ankles from their wooden stocks. He lifted her down by the waist, as one would a child, and helped her walk towards the women. "I don't know what you want with a girl like this. They say she's dangerous." The prison escort felt obliged to warn the lady. "I'm sorry she's dirty and smelly but that was not my doing." He unlaced Marie's cotton hood, lifting it clear of her unkempt red hair, then pulled the rag from her mouth. Marie looked dazed by her surroundings. It certainly wasn't Smethrington Manor. "Hello Marie. I'm Lady Barkerstall." The elder woman said softly. "We would like to offer you a position as one of our staff. My son tells me you are competent at table service. I do hope you'll stay with us." Marie was bewildered. Did the woman really say Barkerstall? "I - I don't understand, Ma'am." The woman laughed. "I'm not sure I do either! Perhaps Isabella will explain it to you." She looked over to one side where Isabella stood nervously at a respectable distance. Tears were streaming down Isabella's red cheeks as she strode towards Marie. "I'm sorry Marie. I'm so sorry," she blubbed, placing her arms around her former maid. "It was all my fault. I remembered how you were soft on Lord Barkerstall so I came here to see if they would help you." Marie was still in her handcuffs, and unable to return the embrace. She was almost glad of it, in case she should land in further trouble. Isabella spotted the key on the string around Marie's neck. "Oh, dearest Marie, If I had only taken as much care with the key this would never have happened." She unlocked the cuffs from Marie's bruised wrists and threw them angrily to the ground. Marie looked at her and the Barkerstall ladies, then saw that Lord Barkerstall was walking towards them. She smiled broadly at Isabella, even though it caused her pain to do so. "Miss Isabella, don't you see? I'm glad it happened. I really am!" Later that evening, after having her wounds treated, Marie was soaking in a hot bath. They said she would need at least a week's rest to recover from her injuries before starting her job with the Barkerstalls. She couldn't wait! It was the day the Marie's luck finally changed. THE END
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