opened the door and couldn’t help a blatantly lustful checking-out of Jasper, who lolled in the armchair in his waistcoat and riding boots, looking like the hottest combination imaginable of Darcy, Rochester and Heathcliff.
His eyes flashed a warning and I bent mine to the ground. It was the only way I’d be able to get through this without jumping on him.
‘So you’re the new maid,’ he said. ‘Walters.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘They tell me at the agency that you’re a hard worker who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Is that true?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And that you are dutiful and obedient to a fault.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, if this is true, you will suit me admirably. But you must excuse me – I am by nature a suspicious man and I have great difficulty in accepting what I am told without a demonstration. It occurs to me that the agency may have exaggerated your virtues.’
‘No, indeed, sir, I hope not.’ I lifted my eyes to his and the expression of intent, rapturous cruelty on his face took my breath away.
‘Very well, then. You will show me your obedience and your capacity for hard work. Remove your dress.’
I blinked uncertainly at him, and he waved a hand as if to say, ‘This is how we get round the difficulty of your attire.’ I did as he said, stood and waited for the next command.
‘Good heavens.’ He chuckled and took a sip of his port. ‘You have impressed me, Walters. Most maids would have fled the room in confusion. Well, well. Now step forwards and let me inspect you at closer quarters.’
God, I wished he’d light the fire. We were allowed to, on cold days, and a scuttle full of coal stood nearby. But I supposed Colin wouldn’t like it, especially if we left ashes to sweep up the next morning. Perhaps next time we could bring one of those portable heaters.
My nipples were stiff and sore with the cold and they dented the light material of my chemise very noticeably.
‘What are these?’ he asked, waving his hand close to where they stood to attention.
‘Sir?’ I couldn’t quite believe he was asking this – at least, in my role I couldn’t. What would a maid say? This maid had to be obedient, though, and I clung to that.
‘These? What are they?’
‘Nipples, sir.’
‘Yes, nipples. Why are they in such a shameful state, Walters?’
‘It’s cold, sir.’
‘Cold, is it? Well, in that case, you need to warm up. Run on the spot, Walters.’
‘Sir?’
‘Yes – you know. Running, but on the spot. Well, come on then.’
It was a bit weird, but I knew Jasper had this kink for semi-clothed exercise sessions, so I picked up my feet and did as I was told.
‘Get those knees right up, Walters.’
If I lifted them any higher they’d bang my breasts, which were bouncing rather painfully, the chemise offering no support whatsoever. But it did warm me up, at least. He was right about that.
He didn’t let me stop until I was puffing and hot-faced, having resorted to crossing my arms over my breasts to keep them under control.
‘That will do now, Walters. There. Warmer?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take your arms away from your chest and prove it. Oh. They are still in quite the same condition they were before. But you can’t attribute it to cold now, surely. So what is your explanation?’
‘I … have no explanation, sir,’ I muttered.
‘Put your arms by your sides,’ he ordered, ‘and kneel in front of me. I must examine this phenomenon properly.’
I knelt between his knees, which he obligingly spread for me, and kept my back straight and my chin up as he indicated I should.
His palms passed gently over the tips of my nipples, rubbing the fabric of my chemise against them. They were so sensitive I felt the gush between my thighs at once.
‘Your predecessor, Larkin,’ he said softly, ‘used to exhibit the same tendency. In her case, the explanation was that she was an unconscionable slut. Is that true of you?’
‘I hope not, sir.’
‘Ah.’ He pinched and tweaked them so that I gasped. ‘You hope not. There we have your answer. You hope not, but you are. Just as much a slut as she ever was. Well, Walters, that is good, for we can now be on an honest footing with one another. But I’m afraid I must show you now how sluttish tendencies are dealt with in this house.’
‘Oh.’ It wasn’t the most stoical of little whimpers, but I had an idea of what was coming, and it wasn’t the good, solid, bent-over-the-chair-arm shagging I was hoping for.
‘My riding crop is on the corner table. Kindly bring it to me.’
I wanted to hesitate, to make pleading puppy-dog eyes, but I remembered that I was Walters, and Walters did as she was told at all times with serene grace.
I picked it up by the handle and a shudder went through me. Jasper’s fist would be wrapped around it soon and the devilish plaited length of it would be brought to bear upon my defenceless bottom. What else was a riding crop good for? Did anyone use them for actual horse riding?
It felt alien in my hand and I was thankful to get rid of it and hand it over to Jasper, who laid it in his lap for a moment and looked me over.
‘Turn around,’ he said.
I obeyed.
‘Do you know what I’m going to do with this riding crop?’ he asked. I heard him raise the glass to his lips again then set it down.
‘I, uh, I’m not sure, sir.’
I really wanted to hear him tell me.
‘I’m going to punish you with it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to lay as many strokes as your tempting little posterior can take, until you are perfectly soundly thrashed and sore. Then you might think twice before showing me your saucy swollen nipples, like any whore in an alleyway. You are going to learn modesty, Walters. Kindly arrange yourself over the arm of that chair, bottom uppermost.’
It seemed mad not to protest, but Walters would look him calmly in the eye and acquiesce, so that was what I did.
I strained and stretched my calves and thighs, pushing my bottom out so the cotton of the drawers was tight and thin over my curves.
‘I suppose you’ve been thrashed before?’ he said, coming to stand beside me. He placed the flat tip of the crop on the broadest part of my bum and brushed it, almost soothingly, up and down the crease. To tell the truth, it stopped being soothing and started being extremely arousing pretty quickly.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You girls need it, don’t you? You need to be kept in check and taught your place.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell me about your last whipping, Walters. Who administered it?’
Damn, he was going to make me use my imagination, just at the point where I was ready to sink into mindless sensation.
‘The housekeeper, sir, at my last place.’
‘Oh, the housekeeper. A lady. An older lady, I trust, of strict moral probity.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What was your transgression?’
‘There was no