____________________________ | | /)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\ / )| DIRECTORIES |( \ __( (|____________________________|) )__ ((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / ))) (\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///) \ / \ / \ _/ \_ / / / \ \ o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o o o o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o o o o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o o and should not be read by minors. o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Furness Hall (Ff, spanking) From sixswots@aol.com (Sixswots) * If you are underage or do not like spanking stories then DO NOT READ THIS. If you want to post this one to anybody please tell me. If you wish to use it commercially then I want my share! A few months past winter turned to spring then summer. Florence and Arabella both turned thirteen. Florence flourished on the first good food of her life and began to grow and fill out. Arabella rarely saw Florence but she had not forgotten. One pleasant summers day Arabella had gone out for a walk with Jane the vicar's daughter. The tow girls were lying down in the long grass talking. The girls were talking about beatings and were both gently rubbing themselves between the legs. The girls had been friends for years and had long had this common interest, when younger they had played at mother and daughters and had enjoyed slapping each others bare bottom. However they both far keener on giving than receiving, if for no other reason than they both received regularly from their respective mothers. Jane had only yesterday received a particularly well applied dose of the hair brush from her mother for being rude to some tiresome old lady who had come to seeinment was to inspect each others bottom after a good thrashing. "Lets see the damage then," said Arabella. Jane rolled onto her front and pulled up her dress and petticoats to reveal her firm young bottom a mass of red ovals some of which were fading and some of which were turning blue. Arabella felt a surge run through her, "Oh to be able to thrash someone's posterior to such a state," she gasped. "Well you can't thrash mine!" said Jane firmly "can't you find a servant to thrash?" "Oh I'd love to give that little trollop in the kitchen a good thrashing" said Arabella. "Well why don't you?" questioned Jane. "Because I have no business to see her and Mamma would find out," "If she was your own personal maid then perhaps it might be easier mused Jane." From this the girls hatched their plan. Mr. Drinkwater was a fairly wealthy merchant who spent much of his time away from home. When he returned for a few weeks it was his custom to spoil Arabella ,who he adored. During his next trip home he had commented on what a beautiful young lady Arabella was, Arabella was quick to pounce "Shouldn't a young lady have her own maid ?," she asked. "I can't see why not her father" said expansively " I'm sure your mother can sort something out." This actually suited Mrs. Drinkwater quite well for although in her opinion the only thing her daughter needed was a good thrashing she was minded to take on another young girl who she knew was in dire circumstances and promoting Florence would create an opening for the new girl. So Florence was duly promoted to Lady's maid and another skinny young girl took her place in the kitchen. Florence's prospects seemed to be looking up, her salary had increased to two pounds ten shillings and she was on the path up in the servant world, possible one day to reach the dizzy heights of housekeeper. For the first few weeks Florence spent much of her time with Lillian Mrs. Drinkwater's maid learning her trade. But gradually as she learnt she spent more and more time looking after Arabella. Arabella was normally short, abrupt and impersonal with her, although a couple of times Florence thought she saw her looking at her in a strange way. Arabella was growing inpatient. She was itching for the opportunity to thrash Florence but dared not while she was in such close contact with her mother's maid. Then fortune smiled on her, her grandmother arrived for an extended visit, with her maid. This left the main servants accommodation overcrowded. Arabella was quick to suggest to her mother that the was a spare servants bedroom in nursery wing of the house which Florence could sleep. Mrs. Drinkwater was grateful for the suggestion and even suggested to her mother later in the day that Arabella was finally growing up. The next day Florence moved into the servant's bedroom in the attic above the nursery. The nursery wing was remote from the other areas of the house, specifically designed so that the noise of the children did not disturb the rest of the house. As soon as Florence had moved over Arabella found fault with all she did. Her bed was not turned down properly, her dressing table was untidy the list of petty faults grew during the day. That night Arabella lay in bed touching herself and dreaming of the morning when she would make her first strike Next morning Florence came in at six to light the fire. Once she had left the room Arabella, who had been pretending to be asleep, shot out of bed and poured water onto the fire which was just beginning to catch. An hour later Florence came into the room. Arabella got out of bed "Oh it's cold in her can't you even make a proper fire you stupid lazy little trollop. I've had enough of you I shall ask mamma for a new maid." Fear flooded through Florence's veins "Oh no please miss I can't understand what happened the fire was catching when I left." Arabella's eyes shone "very well, I will not tell mamma this time but I am going to thrash you to make you more careful in future.," Florence sat down on her dressing table stool "pass me my hairbrush," Florence handed her the big black mahogany hair brush. "Now over my lap," Florence lowered herself gingerly across her lap. Arabella pulled up her skirt & petticoat to reveal a beautiful white bottom, slightly firmer and plumper than the skinny little bottom which Mrs. Drinkwater had seen a few months ago. Arabella was so excited she could already feel a little trickle between her leg. Trying to keep her voice normal she said gloatingly " I'm not as soft as my mother when I thrash a maid I do it properly!." She raised the hairbrush above her head and brought the flat of it down as hard as she could across Florence's right buttock, the was a satisfying CRACK the buttock quivered and Florence's legs jumped a little, but the was no sound. Arabella usually screamed the house down from the first smack of a thrashing so she was rather disappointed with Florence's silence. She then raised it again and brought it cracking down on her left buttock. If anything the results were even less Florence was ready for this one and moved far less. Arabella now started to spank with vengeance the hairbrush rose and fell about forty times, faster and faster as Arabella got more & more excited. Florence's bottom was now a mass of red ovals, but still she did not cry. Her eyes were moist with tears but she would not cry. Arabella paused to get her breath back. She looked at the glowing red cheeks and felt an electrifying surge run through her. She was now distinctly wet between her legs, "If only I can make her scream," she thought. Then her long discussions about spankings with Jane came back to her. "Spread your legs girl," Florence moved her legs apart "Wider," said Arabella slapping her thigh with the hairbrush. Florence spread her legs. Arabella then followed the pattern which Jane's mother did to Jane when she had been really bad. She spanked the inside of her thighs with the hairbrush. It took three or four attempts before she got the angle right but then Florence's left inner thigh came in for the full treatment. After about four or five full blooded hits on her thigh Florence started to cry when Arabella switched to the other thigh, backhanded, Florence started to scream. The scream caused Arabella to shudder and shake as hot juices spread between her legs. She abandoned the tactical spanking and just lashed at Florence's bottom in a frenzy. After a couple of minutes of this Arabella was almost in a feint she was so excited. She pushed Florence off her lap onto the floor, "let that be a lesson to you," she gasped. Florence picked herself up off the floor. Arabella looked at her "You may go now, tell the butler to tell Mamma that I have a headache and will not be down for breakfast," Florence limped off to do her bidding. Arabella when backed to bed and rubbed herself as she relived the spanking again and again in her mind. Florence limped through the rest of the day with hot a blistered bottom. She had been shocked at the intensity of Arabella's thrashing, and the pain had been considerable. But strangely a small part of her seemed to like being close to someone so dominant and later when cleaning Arabella's bedroom, the smell, particularly the smell of the stain on the dressing table stool seemed to make her feel slightly funny. That night in her dreams the thrashing was repaid in her dreams except it was Mrs. Drinkwater doing the thrashing and it wasn't hurting nearly as much. She woke up slightly damp between her legs. After a couple of days Florence's bottom did not hurt any more and when on the fourth day she inspected it in her tiny mirror the was little signs except for a couple of yellow marks on the bottom of her cheeks where the last of the bruises were fading. Fortunately for Florence Arabella was kept busy visiting people, round about, with her mother & grandmother and so the time needed for a repeat performance was not available. The following Sunday afternoon Arabella was lying in the long grass with Jane. Arabella had given a blow by blow account of Florence's thrashing while both girls rubbed themselves between their legs furiously. "If I could do you a favour, would you let me thrash your maid ?," asked Jane, "What favour could you do me ?," replied Arabella "Well I could suggest to Daddy that he could tutor us for two mornings a week, which would mean that your mother needn't hire you a governess, and we both know what a Dear my Daddy is." The idea appealed to Arabella, the last governess had reported her at least twice a week to mamma, who had thrashed her soundly with her cane every time. "I except your proposition," said Arabella "the only thing is if we are going to thrash her I want a cane next time. My hairbrush just was not effective enough," "we can't steal a cane," said Jane thoughtfully "but we could cut a switch from a birch tree." Arabella agreed and the two girls went of searching for a suitable birch tree. After quarter of an hour they found a nice straight branch just over three feet long which they managed to cut off. They then walked home whipping it through the air & sniggering. At lunch on Tuesday Mrs. Drinkwater informed Arabella that she & her mother were going to visit a sick relative on Wednesday and that she should stay at home. A little stab of excitement shoot through Arabella's heart. "Might I have Jane over Mama ?." "Yes, of course Dear, just don't interrupt the servants." The following day her mother & grandmother departed and Jane arrived. That morning Arabella had done the same trick with the fire and had told Florence that she was on the brink of another thrashing. Jane & Arabella went up to the nursery and told Florence that they she should go to cook and collect their lunch. While Florence was away the girls carefully moved the rug near the table onto a polished area of floor. Florence soon returned with a large tray, she walked across the room trod on the mat, which promptly moved causing Florence to stumble. The water in the jug spilled over the food. "You clumsy oaf!" spat Arabella "That does it. Obviously the last thrashing didn't do enough good. This time I'm going to improve upon it." she went over to the cupboard and pulled out the birch switch which was still sappy & whippy. She pulled out a chair "Bend over it girl and be quick about it." Florence looked down at the ground and walked over to the chair and bent over. Arabella pulled her dress and petticoats up to reveal her bare bottom. Jane was getting so excited by this that she was hugging herself and moving from foot to foot. Arabella took three or four steps back then ran forward switch raised. She brought it whipping across Florence's bottom with a whistling crack. Florence's whole body moved forward under the impact. A livid red line appeared across her bottom. Arabella waited a moment, she had had enough thrashings to know that the pain took a few seconds to arrive. Florence gave a sharp intake of breath as after a few seconds she felt the pain like a line of fire across her bottom. Satisfied that the first stroke had had its full effect Arabella retreated and delivered the second , then the third , then the fourth. The was now a line of welts running across the centre of Florence's bottom. For the next two Arabella deliberately aimed low sending the switch cracking into her lower buttocks. "Keep your posterior straight girl, its meant to hurt" gasped Arabella mimicking her mothers words. Florence shifted her weight on the chair and clenched her buttocks. Arabella delivered three more at which point Florence began to cry. "Don't think your sniveling will effect me my girl," another of Mrs. Drinkwater's favorites. Arabella then through all of her might into the last three strokes she was too excited to care where they landed, she was intoxicated with a feeling of power and elation. Each stroke cracked onto Florence's bottom each causing her to cry out in pain. After the final stroke Arabella stood gasping from the effort and from the huge amount of sexual tension pulsating through her body. She surveyed her handiwork. Florence's bottom was covered in thin red wheels with on or two small drops of blood forming. "Now you ungrateful wretch, as you have ruined Miss Walsh's dinner I only think its fare that she should take some share of punishing you. What shall we say six more Miss Walsh?." Jane had been so excited by the events that she could feel the wetness between her legs. "Oh yes," she stammered laid on with the best will. Florence looked at the ground as Arabella handed the switch to Jane. Jane was in no hurry she wanted to enjoy this she stood flexing the switch and looking at Florence's stripped bottom. Finally after five minutes she slowly took a few paces back. Florence had not noticed but Jane was holding the switch left handed while Arabella had been holding it in her right. She raced forward and brought the switch whistling through the air and cracking onto her bottom like a pistol shot. The weal crossed five of six of the ones left by Arabella. After a couple of seconds the pain hit Florence, it was of a whole new magnitude she screamed fully for the first time. Five more times the switch whistled through the air and five more times the stroke sounded like a pistol shot followed by a scream. After the final stroke both Arabella & Jane were so excited that they could feel drops running down their legs and the blood was pumping through their ears like percussion drums. Florence meanwhile was laying slumped across the chair as wave upon wave of pain flowed across her tortured bottom. The girls soon dismissed Florence from their presence with the grim warning that this had only been the first of many thrashings unless she bucked her ideas up. Florence painfully limped out. The girls spent the rest of the day in Arabella's room gleefully reliving the earlier events. That night, after Jane had gone home, old Mrs. Drinkwater, Arabella's grandmother, got up to relieve herself. On the way back to bed she forgot to put out the candle which she had placed on a table perilously close to some curtains. The lady went back to sleep. Half an hour later a gust of wind blew the flame of the candle onto the curtains which caught light. The window in Florence's room faced across the courtyard to the old Ladies room. Florence was lying on her face on her bed. She had briefly been asleep, but had rolled over in her sleep ped her to reawaken. She was staring out of the window, when suddenly she saw the window in the wing opposite light up as the curtains caught fire. She dashed down three flights of steps across the courtyard and into the other wing. The alarm was soon raised and shortly the whole household was out in the courtyard while some of the male servants put out the fire. Mrs. Drinkwater was watching the progress of the fire fighting when the was a large gust of wind. The wind caught all unaware especially Florence who's lightweight cotton night dress was blown up round her head. Mrs. Drinkwater had a good view of Florence from the rear and even in the poor light was able to make out the welts on her bottom. Mrs. Drinkwater had more pressing things on her mind then, but in the morning she determined to find out who had been thrashing her servants. The next morning after breakfast, which Arabella had said was too cold as Florence had been too slow bringing it, the butler arrived and asked Florence to come with him, the mistress wanted to see her. Arabella knew that Florence had alerted them to the fire and therefore presumed her mother wished to reward her, she did not think that any details of yesterday's thrashing were likely to come to light. Florence followed the butler, trying hard no to limp. They arrived in the drawing room, "thank you Jackson, you may leave us " Mrs. Drinkwater said. She smiled at Florence " I understand that it is you we have to thank for saving us from all being burnt in our beds," she unlocked the little cash box on her desk and took out two golden guineas which she gave to Florence. Florence gasped, "this is in addition to your wages" smiled Mrs. Drinkwater. The smile then suddenly disappeared "One other matter Florence, pull up your skirt and petticoat," Florence did as she was asked, "turn round." Mrs. Drinkwater then saw Florence's bottom in the full light of day, it was chris-crossed with red lines which were just starting to bruise & turn blue. "Florence, you have not been away from this house in the last week, so someone thrashed you under this roof - who?," the was no reply "Florence turn round, look at me! Who!" Mmmmiss Arabella & Miss Walsh, Oh please maam I'm sorry they had to thrash me I will try harder...I will." Mrs. Drinkwater then interview Florence at length not being satisfied until she had every detail. Finally Florence was dismissed. Mrs. Drinkwater was angry, very angry. She decided that although her first reaction was to give Arabella a similar, if not better, thrashing that the one she had given Florence, she would consider the matter for a few hours. So the first thing she did was right a note to the vicars wife telling of Jane's part in the mistreatment of her servant The Reverend Septimus Gordon was writing a sermon in his study. Septimus was a very spiritual man who was on a different mental plane to most of his congregation and his family. When he was absorbed in writing a sermon few things disturbed him. Certainly not the gardener's boy from the hall knocking at the front door with a message for his wife, hardly even the noise of the spanking which took place in Jane's bedroom shortly after. Had he been listening he would have hurt the usual noises, firstly Jane begging mamma not to spank her, secondly a series of sharp cracks as the Mrs. Gordon's hairbrush made solid contact with Jane's firm bare bottom cheeks, then thirdly the slightly softer thwacks, always accompanied by screams, as Mrs. Gordon's hairbrush made contact with the inside of Jane's thighs. Finally the noise stopped and Mrs. Gordon shut the door accompanied by loud sobbing from Jane. However the noises which occurred a couple of hours later when Mrs. Gordon re-entered Jane's bedroom disturbed even Septimus. Jane had stopped crying a couple of minutes after the spanking had finished. Generally she thought she had done well and had got away lightly. She had screamed loudly and had managed to wiggle enough on her mothers knee so that her petticoats had kept falling back over her bottom, providing some protection and breaking her mothers spanking rhythm. Generally all in all considering the thrill she had got from thrashing Florence she felt that she was still ahead. She slowly got up and changed into her nighty for her mother had told her she was confined to bed until the next day. Jane was surprised when suddenly her mother came into her room again two hours later. Mrs. Walsh looked at her daughter, picked up the hairbrush from the dressing table and said "Earlier I spanked you for misbehaving at another persons house, now I am going to spank you again for mistreating a servant. Bend over the bed ." Jane pleaded "oh no mamma please I couldn't abide another spanking my bottom is so red and sore," "by all accounts you gave no quarter to Mrs. Drinkwater's servant girl, stop whining girl & bend over the bed." Jane was confused as she slowly got up & bent over her bed. Her mother had always spanked her across her knee. Having to bend over was a new and threatening alteration. Mrs. Walsh was a strong fit woman, she rode with the hounds frequently and was not past walking round her husbands parish with heavy baskets full of food for the needy. It was therefore with a strong wrist that she pulled Jane's nighty up round her shoulder and pulled it tight, like a vice. She then raised the hairbrush in her other hand high above her head and brought it crashing down on Jane's, already slightly pink left cheek, a turn of the wrist just before impact nearly doubling the impact. This first new blow had all the weight of Mrs. Walsh's body behind it in addition to the wrist action, which all in all made the first smack far harder than any smack which had landed on Jane's bare bottom in any previous spanking. The was a cracking thud as her buttock compressed down nearly an inch under the force of the blow. Jane cried out in real earnest this time. The smacks came crashing down on alternate buttocks, Jane's howls increased with each blow. Mrs. Walsh then changed tactics and started to spank in line with Jane's cheeks, the back of the hairbrush pushing the cheeks slightly apart and catching the softer inner skin. This caused Jane to go almost hysterical. Finally Mrs. Walsh stopped. Jane stopped screaming and just whimpered. Then came the terrible ominous words "Spread your legs girl," "Noooo Mama." Jane very slowly and tentatively opened her legs. The hairbrush then whistled the air and landed full force on Jane's left inner thigh, then again and again and again. To Jane the pain was unbelievable she had never imagined that a spanking could hurt so, then Mrs. Walsh started on her right thigh. Jane cries reached their peek and gradually subsided the hairbrush continued to fall on her thigh. Jane lay over the bed exhausted by the crying and the tears, yet still the spanking continued. Mrs. Walsh returned to her buttocks, she was out of breath now and her pace was slowing but she was still bringing the hairbrush thumping down every two seconds or so. "How does it feel to be beaten until you're beyond screaming. Think on this before you beat someone who has done no wrong.," she gasped as she continued to rain down smacks on her errant daughters now bright red bottom. Jane couldn't even say exactly when the spanking finished one minute she was bending over scarcely sure of what month it was then she was still bent over her bed in a strange quite room with a bottom, so sore she could not imagine that it was true. The Reverend Septimus Walsh, stopped writing and paused during the height of the spanking when the whacks from next door almost seem to make his quill holder jump and Jane's screams were rattling the ornamental plates on the wall. "Oh well," he thought "I suppose all mothers spank their daughters."