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