************************************************** Usual disclaimers apply. An adult M/F/F account. Under agers should 'save' themselves for later. ************************************************** STORY--- WELLINGTON HOUSE ************************************************** SEATED in *his* chair in the comfortable drawing room, Lord Wellington, read the punishment announcement card. WRITTEN in Elegant script was the single name, ' "Rachel", 9:00 pm, Six.' HE pondered a moment, then raised his eyes to ANSON, the head butler, and queried, "Who is this person?" "Oh, Richard! Really!" LADY WELLINGTON interrupted as Anson was about to speak. Her gown rustled as she turned from the small desk and faced her husband. "Your powers in Parliament are well know. However, your powers of observation, especially in this house, are so abysmal as to be almost nonexistent. Rachel is the new under house parlor maid, arrived just two months ago from the convent of St. Allaiter," Lady Wellington smugged, turned, picked up the quill pen, and resumed answering her correspondence. LORD RICHARD WELLINGTON huffed silently to himself at the condescending reproach from his wife and cast a crooked eye at Anson, who dutifully stared starched shirt straight ahead, not meeting the glance. ANSON had been in domestic service at Wellington house for almost 20 years and could well anticipate when certain "things" were in development. He knew the master as kindly caring man, often oblivious and lost in his own thoughts. When he huffed, in the manner just witnessed, however, it always seemed advisable in Anson's mind, to be somewhere else. "Shall I bring the young lady in, Sir?" Anson dared, and broke the silence. "Yes, yes, yes," came the impatient reply from his master. The brandy glass in Lord Richard Wellington's hand stopped in mid sniff and sip as the young parlor maid entered the room. He was astounded at her beauty and did indeed question his own mental faculties that he could have been so blind to have missed seeing her before. He cleared his throat. "Six is it?" Wellington asked Anson. "Yes, Sir", the butler answered respectfully. Wellington cared little about just why this exquisite young child would be getting six of the best across her bare posteriors. If Anson said it was six, then six it was. He was much too busy a man to be bothered by such trivialities. "Very well, prepare her then," Wellington replied, suddenly not so interested in the governmental debate papers he had just been preparing. Despite being adorned in the institutional gray uniform, with its gleaming white cuffs, collar, and cap, the sweet swell of the young woman's body could not be ignored. Anson grasped the girl's elbow and lead her to the center of the drawing room, midway between Lord and Lady Wellington. The butler had her kneel on the upholstered foot stool, lean well forward, then grasp its legs with her hands. In one practiced movement, Anson lifted the stiff material of the long dress skirt and tucked it into the white apron ribbon. Lord Wellington squirmed a little as Anson hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the white undergarment, and lowered Rachel's thick muslin panties to her knees. Although her legs were tightly together, the pink fig of her slit, teased by whispy red hairs, was clearly visible. Richard looked up and down the bent over form. The young girls hands were white with tension as she gripped the front legs of the footstool. She had been caned by the Good Sisters but never before had been so exposed to a man .... two men in fact, and in such a humiliating position. LORD WELLINGTON picked up the polished wooden cane and advanced to one side of the new parlor maid. "Oh! For god's sake Richard! Lady Wellington turned again. "Have you forgotten the milking?! These young convent snips need it more than anyone!" she shouted in exasperation and pushed herself away from the small writing desk in near tantrum. ANSON stood straight and watched Her Ladyship walk quickly with determined steps, stopping behind the bent over girl and forcing three fingers of her manicured hand between the girls legs. The parlor maid gasped at the sudden invasion of her most private parts and began to rock back and forth in cadence to the massaging action directed against the pliable soft folds of her sex. The experienced butler knew beyond doubt that his Lord had not forgotten the preliminary milking ritual, but only used his feigned ignorance to bait his dear wife. He saw the whole thing clearly, right from the master's initial huff of indignation. The parlor maid was in a sweat now, as Her Ladyship's fingers masterbated away the lasciviousness of the aroused girl. A knowing and sharp finger nail flicked away at the gristled little button until the turgid flesh burst, sending torrents of spent liquid dripping between her thighs. But Her Ladyship, akin to prolonging the suffering of her servants, continued to tease the unfortunate girl by pinching her slim thighs apart, poking and prodding at her exposed anal ring, and depositing some resounding slaps on the slim and puffy sex lips. " I believe the imp is ready for you now," The Lady Marjorie Wellington sneered to her husband, shuffling away back to her desk. The parlor maid could only wish that the cane would be a relief next to such an embarrassing and lewd display just inflicted upon her, and would be over quickly. Lord Wellington raised the cane and swung the thin rod full and hard across the fullest part of the buttocks. The incredible sting made the parlor maid lurch forward with alarm. With precise accuracy, the second cut was much lower, where the thigh and buttocks meet in all their glorious form. The bow of the cane, bent outward as the result of pure physics, just nipped at the swollen slit, causing quite an audible shriek, more from shock than pain. ANSON was pleased at the master's precision, and the final four strokes only confirmed that he would have no more outbursts of incorrigibility from this new maid. Before dismissing the girl, Wellington fingered each of the six welts, allowing his hand to knead and twist the inflamed cheeks and all that lay in between. "Will that be all, Sir?" Anson asked as the young parlor maid was allowed to stand, quickly covering herself. "For the moment, yes, Anson, but stay near, for I may need you shortly," Wellington responded. "Yes, Sir," Anson replied understandingly, and he and the parlor maid left the room. A few steps out side the drawing room door, Anson had the girl bend over, right there in the hall, for 'inspection'. His hands wandered over the streaked bottom. The poor girl was freightened that someone would approach and see her in such a wantonly exposed position. "The Master has been much too lenient with you," he said, and I believe your tutelage should include a few weeks working for Mr. Kanakian." "OH! NO SIR! PLEASE!" the girl shrieked in panic, twisted herself about, and grasped both arms around Anson's ankles. "He does unspeakable things to servants! I BEG OF YOU!" For it was true. Mr. Kanakian, the groundskeeper in charge of nearly 600 acres of prime, profitable estate orchard, took a particular and fiendish delight in inflicting cruel punishments on the indentured servants that worked the land, often just for his own amusement. Anson was pleased at the terror in the girl's eyes. It made things so much easier. His hand reached down and stroked her short red hair. "You will behave, then?" "OH, yes, Sir!" the implored reply was answered immediately. "Very well," Anson replied. "Remove all of your clothing, right here and now, and go await me in my chambers." The parlor maid needed no second invitation. Even though it meant walking stark naked past every servant in the house, she quickly shed all of her clothing. Before sending the girl on her way, Anson squeezed each of the girl's pink nipples till she swooned, then gave her a casual slap on her bottom. He watched her nude form scamper down the hall way, then returned to listen at the drawing room door. *************************** SIMPLY by removing the oval framed cameo from the outside wall, ANSON could not only hear what was going on in the private drawing room, but see as well. A secret that had benefited him handsomely over the years. ANSON watched LORD WELLINGTON pace back and forth ... a sure sign of a conniving mind at work. "You are quite right, my dear wife," Richard Wellington addressed his spouse, now that he thought they were alone. "I have been clearly negligent in my duties towards this house. If you would be so kind as to lay yourself over the foot stool, I will begin to rectify my short comings by giving you a sound thrashing for your impertinence." THE LADY WELLINGTON set down her pen, and looked at her husband incredulously, but with a gleam in her eye. Her cunt already leaked with expectation. "I would have you naked," LORD WELLINGTON commanded, "or should I ring for Anson and the footmen for assistance?" ANSON watched from his secret perch as HER LADYSHIP shed her gown. His heart beat wildly as he observed the mature woman in her form fitting corset and stays, bending and twisting every which way. He knew of course, that HER LADYSHIP was very well aware of the stern constitution of her husband and that threats of this kind were not made idly. The thought of being stripped bare by her own butler and footmen was beyond comprehension. ANSON sucked in his own breath as the now nude matron draped herself over the foot stool. The large fleshy bottom was magnificent. He could swear that the fat cunt, about to be milked by HIS LORDSHIP, winked at him. He watched for a few moments more, his eyes fixed on the huge tits that hung pendulously, swollen nipples nearly touching the carpet. ANSON locked the image in his mind as he replaced the cameo over the hole in the wall. Rachel would be waiting and he was anxious. As he strolled down the mahogany lined walls of the hallway, he wondered if anyone knew who was the *real* master of WELLINGTON HOUSE. He smiled inwardly. There would be no 'ringing' from HIS LORD or LADYSHIP for several hours, he was sure. .......and visiosn of red sugar plums danced in his head. ****************************** END.