Rectory of Correction (10 page)

‘Thank you, sir.'

‘I generally prefer a good deal more meat to beat,' the Reverend continued, stroking the girl's bottom with evident pleasure. ‘But there is some flesh here,' Linnet gave a little yelp as he pinched. ‘And such silken skin...'

To Faith's utter amazement her master lowered his face to the proffered bottom. With a rapt fervour he closed his eyes and kissed the trembling flesh. Faith blinked at the spectacle in astonishment as the Reverend nuzzled and kissed the girl's perfect behind for some moments. She had never seen him consecrate a host before communion with a fraction of this reverence. His face was transfigured with all the spiritual fervour of a pilgrim in some sacred shrine, worshipping an image of the Madonna.

‘It seems almost a desecration–' at last he raised his lips from Linnet's quivering cheeks, and gave Faith a wink ‘–to mar this perfection.' The Reverend shrugged regretfully and gave Linnet's buttocks a friendly pat. ‘But discipline is discipline, I am afraid.' He looked at his maid again and smiled. ‘All right, Faith,' he said with a grin, ‘horse the little wriggler. Let's see if she if she squeals as prettily as she trembles!'

‘Yaaaooooooowwww...!'

To hear Linnet yell you would have thought her bottom was being flayed. The girl bucked on Faith's back and her hands kneaded the maid's breasts with frantic desperation.

For all her burden's writhing and agonised squealing, Faith knew the punishment was, at least by the Reverend's fearsome standards, quite a light one. She knew the sound of the tawse on bare flesh only too well. The whoosh of the tails through the air and the crack of leather on tender skin had been branded indelibly on her memory, along with certain other unforgettable sensations.

There was another whoosh, and the tone told Faith it was another light one. The crack was sharp enough to echo around the study, but did not have the sickening depth of a really wicked stroke. Linnet, however, hoisted helplessly over her bent back, seemed not to share the maid's assessment.

‘Haaooow...!' Linnet shrieked and wriggled with renewed vigour.

‘Hold her steady!' the Reverend's voice ordered sharply.

Faith tried, clutching Linnet's arms just above the elbows and fighting to stay still as her squirming burden bucked like a gaffed salmon. Linnet's hands had found purchase on Faith's breasts after the first stroke, and now she clutched them like a drowning girl's fingers grasping at a buoy. And her blind groping was doing strange things inside Faith's loins. It was becoming hard to concentrate. If only Linnet would stop wriggling and squeezing...

‘All right, enough,' the dread voice said. ‘Linnet, raise your legs.'

Faith suppressed a sob, for she knew what was coming. Linnet had her arms around her neck, but her legs hung down between those of the maid. The Reverend was now lifting the limbs of Faith's lithe burden, pushing the whimpering girl higher so she was in the position of a piggyback rider. Faith felt the slender, stocking-clad thighs wrap around her waist, and fought the desire to wail.

There was only one reason for her master to require this position. Faith knew her own bare bottom was now exposed below Linnet's. She waited, buttocks tensed in anticipation, as Linnet sobbed and gasped into her ear.

‘Oh, ah, oooh.' Only Linnet's sniffles broke the silence. Faith found breathing suddenly impossible.

Whoooosh...
Crack
!

‘Haaaooooowww...!'

Faith's burden bucked again and shrieked in her ear. The dainty hands frantically kneaded her breasts. Still Faith said a silent prayer of thanks that the Reverend had chosen the upper bottom of the piggyback pair, although it was again not a particularly vicious stroke, from the sound of it.

‘I said keep her still!'

There was another whoosh. This time the tone was deeper. Another crack, as loud and sharp as a pistol retort. Faith did not need to judge the sounds to gauge that this was a blistering stroke, for it had caught her on her upper thighs. A searing starburst of scalding pain engulfed her.

‘Is it sore, dear?' the Reverend enquired, patting Linnet's now scarlet bottom gently.

The girl winced. ‘Y-yes, sir. V-very sore, sir,' she sniffled, as new tears trickled down her almost equally red cheeks. A good deal of her dark hair had escaped from the ponytail as she'd struggled on Faith's back. Some strands were now stuck to her wet cheeks.

Faith fought a wave of resentment; the Reverend did not ask about her bottom, which was still on fire. The maid felt as if she had been sitting on a hive of angry bees. It really was not fair.

‘Just one thing before supper.' The Reverend took hold of Linnet's hips and steered her to face him as he sat in the chair by his desk. ‘I want you on your knees.'

The girl obediently sank to her stockinged knees before him, eyes wide. The Reverend reached out and stroked her hair with affection.

‘Faith,' he growled, ‘stop snivelling, you silly chit. Come over here and show her what to do.'

Faith did not need ordering twice. Quickly she joined Linnet, kneeling before her master. She took the girl's right hand and guided it to the Reverend's bulging fly.

‘Undo the buttons,' she whispered, and watched the girl obey.

Linnet's fingers were as delicate as any Faith had ever seen. If the girl was nervous it did not affect her dexterity, for she soon had the flies entirely undone.

‘Get on with it,' the Reverend Dawes grunted.

Licking her lips, for this always made her anxious, Faith took Linnet's hand in hers and guided it into the open trousers.

‘Take it out... be gentle,' she said, glancing to see Linnet's nervous face.

Linnet guided the man's erection out, blinking as if in alarm at the rigid thing that twitched impatiently in her dainty hands. Faith was not surprised. The first time she had seen that swollen cockhead it had made her feel quite faint. In fact, the sight still left her a little dizzy.

Faith touched the underpart of the upcurving shaft. ‘Kiss it, here,' she said, her voice rather hoarse. To her surprise, and perhaps her secret chagrin, Linnet proved naturally skilful at the task in hand. She bent her pretty head and began kissing and licking, working her pink tongue up towards the bulging glans.

The Reverend groaned. He had taken a fistful of Faith's hair in his left hand, whilst retaining his grip on Linnet's locks with his right. Faith winced as he twisted her hair, in apparent abstraction, as Linnet's tongue did its work.

‘Mouth, now!' he suddenly shouted.

Panic seized Faith. Linnet looked at her questioningly, but it was too late to explain. The girl had lifted up her head to look for instructions.

‘Stay!' was all Faith could think to say, for the Reverend's seed was squirting unstoppably across the girl's breasts.

There was a long, slightly stunned silence when he stopped spending. Linnet still held his deflating cock, the creamy semen dripping from her breasts onto her naked thigh flesh, above her stockings.

Faith barely dared raise her eyes to her employer, but in the end she had to look up inquiringly.

The Reverend was looking down at Linnet, one eyebrow raised disdainfully.

‘Yes, well, not exactly what I had in mind,' he said dryly. ‘Still, there will no doubt be plenty of opportunities to teach you how to perform this task properly. Lick me clean, now.' He turned to Faith. ‘I shall deal with your failure to instruct her tonight. In the meantime you had better lick that up. All of it, and be quick about it, girl.'

The maid took a deep breath and bent to lick the still-warm fluid from Linnet's breasts as the girl lapped the last dribbles from his deflating manhood.

‘Hurry up, girls,' the Reverend grunted, as Faith swallowed a mouthful of the viscous stuff and bent to lick the dribbles from Linnet's thighs, ‘all this exercise has made me rather hungry!'

 

 

 

It was a distinctly subdued little knot of girls that waited in the corridor outside the schoolroom after supper. Every time Amelia so much as twitched a muscle, the pressure of the whipping drawers on her bottom made her aware how very sore her behind already was, and how little she desired more punishment. Placing a hand, gingerly, on her tender buttock, she suppressed a wince.

The thought of having to kow-tow to Bella and Kirsty was appalling. By rights it should have been her strutting around with a prefect's badge pinned to her blouse and cane gripped in her hand. Instead, Amelia faced ‘detention', and heaven only knew what that beast of a prelate meant to do to her. She had to clench her fists and will back tears when she thought about the unfairness of it all.

‘Wait in silence,' the Reverend Dawes had told them, helping himself to a slice of fruit cake. Supper had not been meagre in quantity, but the fare had been distinctly plain. Amelia had seen the expression on Gretchen's face when she'd realised she was not going to get a crumb of the big cake. At least the Reverend had seemed in an unusually good mood, and had found no further fault with his trembling charges as they dutifully munched their bread and dripping around the table.

Gretchen was still pouting glumly as the four girls stood waiting by the door. Charlotte did not look a great deal happier. She scowled mutinously and kicked disconsolately at the skirting board. Amelia knew how Charlotte felt, but the time had long since passed when she was foolish enough to display her displeasure quite so recklessly. Amelia looked away. Bella alone seemed, if not exactly cheerful, at least resigned to her fate.

‘I suppose that ginger slut is having another slice by now, or sucking something more savoury, perhaps!' Clearly Charlotte could hold her peace no longer. ‘It was a damned poor go making her a prefect. Bella, it should have been you and me.' She looked at her friend for support.

Arabella put a finger to her lips and frowned. Charlotte gave her, and the others, a despairing look, then shrugged. ‘For God's sake, Porky, the little cow is not around us now. It's not as if these two would peach...'

Bella drew herself up to her full height and looked down her aquiline nose at her erstwhile friend.

‘Do not call me that any more, Charlotte, unless you want to find yourself on the wrong end of my stick,' she almost spat.

Charlotte looked at her old friend with incredulity, but there was no doubting that Bella meant exactly what she said. If Charlotte had been about to reply to this rebuke she thought better of it as she stared into Bella's unflinching gaze. Charlotte licked her lips anxiously, and after that she held her tongue in check.

The four girls waited glumly for another fifteen minutes. Amelia was almost out of her mind with apprehension by the time she heard the Reverend's footfall in the corridor. He came into view, followed by a solemn-looking Faith, who was carrying a large tray loaded with straps and all manner of other peculiar objects.

‘Right, girls, ready to do a little atoning for your sins?' the Reverend asked brightly.

The girls' ragged response was particularly unenthusiastic.

‘Good, good,' he said mildly. ‘Very well, go in, my dears. Do go in!'

First he ordered the girls to move the desks back. Amelia worked with Gretchen, who was visibly trembling now, lifting the desks and putting them back against the wall. Next he unlocked the big stationery cupboard at the back of the hall and passed out things which, to Amelia's astonished gaze, looked like shallow wooden boxes or drawers.

These trays were about three-foot in length by two in width and fashioned from varnished beech. A strap, which Amelia did not like the look of, was affixed near the middle of the box, across its width. The Reverend Dawes had them set these out in a little row. Gretchen was first, then Charlotte and Amelia. Finally Arabella's box brought up the rear.

‘All right, girls, remove your skirts and blouses, please.'

Amelia began unbuttoning her blouse even before she had time to be outraged. Once she would have protested, even balked. Now she just obeyed, wondering as she did so at the change in her attitude.

Gretchen also did as she was bid, with alacrity that bordered on the craven. Bella blushed a little, then gave a shrug and began to unbutton her blouse. Only Charlotte seemed to find the order too much to obey.

‘I'm sorry, Reverend Dawes,' she said, the tremulous note in her voice undermining her determined expression, ‘it simply is not decent.' She stuck her little chin out firmly, and struck a pose that was evidently meant to display firm resolve. Unfortunately, she could not prevent herself from blushing red, nor her chin from trembling, and these factors combined to rather spoil the effect. ‘I am quite sure that my grandmama would not permit me to...' Charlotte's cheeks went a deeper shade of red, ‘...to expose myself to you in this way.'

Shut up, shut up, you stupid little fool! Not very long ago it might have been Amelia who spoke Charlotte's words; now she stared at the other girl and willed her to be quiet and not make more trouble for them all. The Reverend Dawes looked at Charlotte without concern.