2 comments/ 13969 views/ 1 favorites The Bumhampton Chronicles Pt. 01 By: Brianbunny Part One "When I first met his Lordship" Look at him shuffling along. Sad isn't it? To think of whom he once was. You mean you don't know who that is? That, my friends, was his Lordship. Yes, a real Lord, with a title and everything. The Venerable Lord Hummingbunny the Omnipresent of Lower Bumhampton. A silly title you must agree, but it suited him. Now look at him; talking with his dog, posting a letter everyday with another true episode of his memoirs. Problem is, no one believes him the poor sod. They all think he's gone around the bend. I'll tell you a secret though. Every word is true. Don't roll your eyes at me, I'm telling you this because I know the truth. Who am I? My name is Miss Slapumcheeks; but my friends call me Ruby. I should know about His Lordship, because I was on the receiving end many times of his particular method of motivation. You see Lord Hummingbunny strongly believed that young ladies of a certain class needed regular exercise and discipline in order not to fall in with the wrong crowd. That's right, spanking, caning, whipping, strapping; my poor sore bottom was thoroughly chastised on many an occasion. I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on Lord Hummingbunny... "Your Lordship?" "Yes, what is it?" "Your three o'clock appointment is here sir." "Thank you, Miss Frothinglips. Show her in." I walked into a large, well-lit study with shelves upon shelves of books lining both sidewalls. I must have looked a fright, gawking like a provincial rube, but I'd never seen so many books before in my life. I could read, after a fashion, but I was feeling out of place in this luxurious manor. His Lordship had stood up when I entered the room, and I started when I realized he was staring at me. I blushed and dropped a fumbling curtsy. "Your Lordship." He nodded at me, and motioned towards a leather wingback to the left of his magnificent desk. I sat down, and nervously clasped my hands in my lap. "I believe you have something for me?" I reached into by reticule and pulled out a sealed letter from my previous employer. I made to get up, but he bade me stay seated and came around his desk to receive the missive. Perching on one corner, he cracked the seal and proceeded to read the contents. I covertly studied him as he perused my life's work. He was short, maybe 5′ 6′, with reddish hair and a mustache. His clothes were of the finest cut and gems sparkled in his waistband. He finished reading, and setting down the papers, reached down and lifted my chin in his calloused hand. "How old are you child?" "I'm 18 and three quarters sir." "You have very fine credentials, Mrs. Allen speaks quite glowingly of your morals and ethics." "I try sir." "Yes, well we shall see about that. I must say though, there is no mention of instances of discipline listed? Were you not punished ever?" I do realize - in these enlightened times punishment is frowned upon - however, in our time, a spanking was considered normal and nothing to froth on about and cry about abuse. I explained to His Lordship, that I was occasionally smacked, but never more than once a month. He frowned at that, and muttered that perhaps I was not suited for this position after all. I swallowed hard and, asked in a meek voice what would I be expected to endure. "All my girls are thrashed at least once a week and, with new girls, I always break them in with daily, if not twice daily discipline." The shock must have shown on my face. I certainly felt light headed. Never in my wildest dreams, could I have envisioned that at 18 and three quarters years of age, I would fall into the clutches of a hard and dominant man such as this. I was ecstatic, but I managed to remain calm. "My apologies Your Lordship, I did not understand the requirements of the position. Perhaps, it would be best if I left." "Nonsense girl. It is my duty as the Lord of the manor to provide discipline and healthy and happy work environments." "I..." "Besides, where else were you planning to go?" He was right of course. As an orphan, my prospects were bleak; this was the 10th interview I had been to, but this was this first job that I was interested in enough to commit my bottom too: I did not want to wind up out on the streets. "Very well, sir. Is there anything else I need to be aware of?" "There is a rigorous and cleansing examination before you are officially hired. Need to make sure you are flexible to do the proper job. Stand up please." I stood up in front of the chair. "Stand up straight girl! I expect all my girls to be willing and able to whatever it takes to satisfy his Lordship. No milquetoasts on my watch! Hrumph! You are nicely built, sweet face; let me see the rear view. Ah! Excellent form. I say, good show." *smack* *smack* The quick spanks on my bottom caught me by surprise. "Yes girl, your backside will get quite the workout with my strap. I am looking forward to your working for me. So, are ye interested in the post? With room and board and ten shillings per month, one day a week off and regular and rigorous discipline? Speak up lass, now's not the time to be shy." I of course, said yes; thus began a most educational journey into the lives of masters and servants and men and woman. Would you like to hear more? The Bumhampton Chronicles Pt. 02 Author's note: Each part will be short as I prefer to write in compact segments. Part Two "Stripped and Whipped" Peacock House was a trim country manor. His Lordship ruled over miles in all directions, including the little village of Lower Bumhampton. I was guided by another servant, Anna, and made my way to the rear of the manor and the servant's quarters where I was met with the very severe and formidable Miss Cleanknockers. She pursed her lips and glared at me. I lowered my gaze demurely and spoke of His Lordship's desire to have me cleansed and examined. "Well, I determine who is allowed to stay at the manor miss, and you can be sure that when I am done with you, your very innards will squeak." I must interject here; I was in fact, quite naïve. I was raised in the city, and thus had no free congress with young men, other than the uncouth tradesman and street urchins. My mama, when she was still alive, God rest her soul, was not one to explain the bodily functions. I bathed once a week, as was normal; that is until I started employment. Truth was, at that age I was very shy and private. Had I only known... "Stand over here Miss, against the wall." She measured my height, and used a scale to find my weight. Her hands roamed freely over my covered limbs, and she bent me forward and back in all directions. I was dizzy, and the pins in my black hair had come loose, causing a cascade down my back. "Very well, you will now disrobe. If you pass muster, then all your clothes will be provided for you." "Disrobe?" "Are you disobeying me already miss?" "No ma'am, but there is no screen." "Child, privacy is not a concern at this place. Disrobe or leave." What choice did I have? I must admit to humiliated tears as I undid my buttons on my floor length frock and handed it over to her waiting arms. My chemise was next and, as I did not wear undergarments, I was soon naked and shivering as I cowered under her stern gaze. "Stand up straight! Thrust your chest out!" Two quick strikes, one on each bottom cheek, and I was stiff and rigid as a Guardsman at attention. Thus began the examination; Miss Cleanknockers ran her fingers through my hair, probing my skull. She checked my ears, my eyes; her fingers entered my mouth and gently massaged my teeth. Her roved lower, always lower until my breasts lay in her strong palms. She squeezed, like a melon, checking for soft spots, and then, and then. Oh my, I thought as she plucked and rolled my stiff nipples. Hard points, in and out, stretching: I cried out as she tormented my flesh. "Good response. You like pain, I can tell." "No miss, it hurts." "Little liar. M'Lord will soon enough cure you of that trait." Continuing now, she loosed my red and enflamed bosom and seized both arms and once more checked my flexibility. My hands, and nails did not pass muster, but she merely murmured later. My torso was next, then, she spun me around and pushed her thumbs hard into my shoulders and down my spine. I was just a puppet in her capable hands and I began to sense something stirring in my unmentionable areas. My lower extremities did not go unnoticed, but I was bade sit on a towel that rested on a stone counter, next to a sink and a floor drain. I tried, I tried still to be modest, but after massaging my sore feet and calves, she ran her hands up my thighs and patted them. Her intent was clear, she wished me to spread them wide. "Please? No?" She walked away without a word and opened a cupboard. Returning with a stiff riding crop: tap, tap, she touched my thighs once more, but I just shook my head and wept in shame. Thus began my first whipping, but by no means my last, at Peacock House. At the time, I screamed with the pain, it was so severe; what did I know, I was an innocent. In truth, she was very careful, and struck with just sufficient force, repeated blows raining down on my upper thighs. How many? I do not know, but when I looked down expecting to see blood, all there was, was a pinkish hue to my skin. I looked up through the film of my tears, and nodded. She stopped at once, and then tapped me with her hands once more. This time, I spread my legs as wide as I could while she poked and prodded my inner thighs. "Lay back, and raise your knees to your chest; grasp them firmly with your hands, and keep them wide spread for me." The screeching of wooden legs on the stone floor grated on my nerves as she positioned a stool in front of my feminine opening. "Are you still a virgin?" "Yes," I replied with some vigor. I am a proper girl!" "I shall soon find out if you are telling the truth." Thus now, the examination portion was drawing to a close, and the cleansing portion soon to commence. But first, I felt a stranger's touch on me. Down there: the place of monthly shame and pain. What possible connection could still being a virgin have to do with my monthlies? Once more, those strange feelings swirled in my tummy as several fingers rubbed me down there, up and down. I thought I heard faint squishing noises, but then all else fled as a slender digit entered my body! My back arched, and I squealed as she manipulated me and probed deeper and deeper. "Ah, you are intact, excellent. You will be quite the prize filly for some lucky man. Move your bottom over the edge, keep pulling back. Further, further." By now, my knees were pressing against my chest and just when I believed that my ordeal was over, another shock. A greased finger slid abruptly up my fundament! I do not have to explain the shame I felt being treated this way, yet, yet; a part reveled in this treatment of me. I realized that Miss Cleanknockers was not being cruel, but that she was in fact quite efficient at her job. She then slid a second finger in my nether hole, whilst returning yet again to my womanly opening. I could feel... I could feel her fingers touching inside of me through both holes and my body began to rock ever so slightly. I gave myself over to the rush of new sensations and closed my eyes.