The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 5 (20 page)

“Parnell,” their host growled. “Is this another of your bloody spanky stories?”

“It’s all true,” Parnell protested. “I got most of these details from one of the daughter’s diaries. I was asked to research the legend for the local historical society.”

Serena could see something flash between their host and Parnell but she couldn’t work out what it was. The meal had been sumptuous and entertaining and had proved the ideal end to their weekend break but she didn’t want it to end with an argument. Her expectations were building to something far greater than that. Sensing their host might be trying to shield her and her sister from an unseemly tale, she said, “I don’t mind if it’s a ghost story or a spanky story. I just want to hear it then get off to bed.”

Her words were the encouragement Parnell needed. He cast a final glance at their host, then continued. “It was all in her diaries afterwards but by the time anyone else read those it was too late for the gamekeeper. The eldest daughter had something of a penchant for discipline, although no one knows what started her on the habit. Her earlier diaries are filled with graphic entries about some mystery man using a tawse on her. It’s impossible to say if this is the recounting of genuine incidents, or simply detailing gratuitous fantasies. Whichever it is, it seems that she had an avaricious appetite for chastisement.”

“Parnell!” their host warned.

Serena frowned at him. Parnell’s story had touched a nerve and she wanted to hear more. No, she thought quickly, that wasn’t quite right. She didn’t want to hear more – she
needed
to hear more. “Please,” she broke in. “Please let him finish.”

Grudgingly, their host nodded assent.

Parnell went on. “The younger daughter wasn’t as enthusiastic but she was known to go along with whatever her sister suggested. The pair of them went to the gamekeeper and asked him to thrash them with his stout length of birch.”

“I can’t believe that,” Charlotte interrupted. “Even nowadays, no one would dare to do that, would they?”

Parnell grinned at her and Serena noticed his smile was always that tiniest bit broader when he spoke to Charlotte. She catalogued this observation, sure that she would be able to use it to her advantage later on.

“We all have a mindset about the propriety of the Victorian age,” Parnell explained. “But we have to remember that the Victorians were only people, pretty similar to ourselves. They had appetites and desires much like those we have today and, whilst it would have been difficult for a young Victorian woman to state her needs so directly, it wouldn’t have been beyond her. As the gamekeeper was in her father’s employ, she would have probably seen it as little more than another instruction for one of the staff.”

Serena decided it was a plausible theory. She could see that Charlotte was coming to the same conclusion, although it was difficult to read all her sister’s thoughts whilst she gazed at Parnell. Charlotte’s inane grin was the perfect reflection for Parnell’s broad smile.

“Just because it wasn’t the done thing, that didn’t mean it wasn’t done.”

Charlotte nodded and Parnell continued.

“Of course, the gamekeeper refused at first but the eldest daughter was insistent. One diary entry says that she had been watching him thrash for pheasant and,
‘was stricken by a delicious fever like I had never known.’
She described her fever more fully but it doesn’t take the Rosetta Stone to translate what she really meant. Nowadays we wouldn’t say she ‘had a fever,’ we’d just say, ‘she had the hots’.”

Serena smiled at this and in the same instant saw their host frown.

Telling his story, Parnell seemed oblivious to all of them except Charlotte. “They asked him on three occasions and the gamekeeper refused as many times. The final time, the eldest daughter blackmailed him. She said if he didn’t do it, they’d thrash one another and tell their father that the gamekeeper was responsible. They detailed the repercussions he would suffer and the poor man was left with no option. He had to do as they asked.”

“That is so manipulative.”

Serena glanced up and saw their host’s wife had made this declaration.

Their host squeezed her hand and winked. “It’s so manipulative, and so unlike a woman,” he intoned sardonically.

She gave his arm a playful punch and turned her attention back to Parnell. “What happened?”

Charlotte nodded, encouraging Parnell to continue. “Yes, what happened?”

As Serena had known he would, Parnell responded to her sister’s question. “The gamekeeper did as the girls asked and he acted on their specific instructions. They wanted him to thrash them, using his stout length of birch. They wanted him to do it beneath a full moon, under the oak tree in front of the house. The eldest daughter seems to have had some exact idea in her mind but her diaries don’t explain where it came from. Perhaps she had read it in a book, or maybe she just heard it in a story. That’s one aspect that we’re never going to know. However, the diaries do detail the thrill she got and I can remember that part verbatim.”

He swallowed and closed his eyes before reiterating the memorised passage. “‘
His first blow was like a bee sting and his second was worse. It was the precise sensation that my body craved but it didn’t assuage my fever. It made my blood begin to boil and nowhere was that more apparent than inside my womanliness.’

“As I said,” Parnell grinned, “she had the hots.”

Serena watched him wink at Charlotte and was surprised to see her sister return the surreptitious gesture. Beneath the table, Serena gave Charlotte a warning kick on the shin.

“At the beginning, they’d asked him to give each girl six of the best but, as it turned out, that wasn’t enough to satisfy either of them. When the six were done, they wanted more and the thrashing went on for a good hour. It might have continued into the morning but unfortunately they were discovered.”

“My God!” Charlotte exclaimed.

Serena was intrigued. “Who caught them?”

“They were caught by the owner of the house. Returning from his gentleman’s club he was outraged and demanded an explanation but no one could give him that. Both daughters knew it would presage their downfall if they told him the truth. I suppose they were right – it was the Victorian age and if the two young ladies had said they were being willingly thrashed it would have caused a sensational scandal. The gamekeeper tried saying he hadn’t done anything, but he had a piece of birch in his hands and the daughters had striped and reddened backsides to prove that something had gone on. With that sort of evidence against him, the gamekeeper eventually fell silent. He stayed silent until they hung him an hour later.”

“My God!” Charlotte gasped again. “How could he have been tried and sentenced so quickly?”

Parnell shook his head. “Vigilante justice wasn’t common back then, but it did happen. The house owner was influential enough to be forgiven for such judicial decisions and, at the end of the day, the gamekeeper’s job was only another staff vacancy.”

“That’s terrible,” Charlotte told him.

“The strange thing is, the gamekeeper actually had an alibi as to why he wasn’t there. One of the housemaids saw him outside the kitchens, whilst the thrashing was meant to be happening. She spoke to him and although he didn’t tell her his reasons, he did tell her that he was looking for a stout length of birch. They talked for a short while and the conversation ended just before the owner returned. According to the housemaid, the gamekeeper didn’t have the time to thrash either of them. However, she only spoke up whilst the gamekeeper was still swinging from his rope.”

“If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

Parnell shrugged. “I think the gamekeeper must have done it. There was no one else in the vicinity to carry it out and the eldest daughter is uncommonly open and frank about everything like that in her diaries.”

“But you said there was proof,” Serena reminded him.

“There’s proof that something happened,” Parnell agreed. “And not just because of what’s written in her diaries. After the incident, the family tried to put it behind them but the gamekeeper wouldn’t allow that. The first sounds started on the night of the next full moon.”

Serena swallowed. Her skin had turned to gooseflesh and she could feel the prickle of every stiffening hair on her body. It was a surprisingly arousing sensation and she tried to ignore its pleasant tingle by concentrating on Parnell’s words.

“The sounds were loud enough to wake the entire household. According to the diaries they were the most bone-chilling sounds anyone has ever heard. From the front of the house, beginning at the base of the oak tree, there came the sound of a birch slicing through air. It’s not a loud sound, try swinging a length of birch yourself and you’ll hear, but on this occasion, it shrieked through the night. Every month after that, as soon as the moon turned full, the sound recurred. Even then, people were sceptical enough to doubt that it could be a ghost but there has never been any other explanation. The sound would come on windless nights and whenever any brave soul went to investigate, they never found any earthly reason for what they had heard. All they ever found, unusual to find beneath an oak in itself, was a stout length of birch, propped against the base of the tree.”

Serena shivered.

“The family tolerated it for six months and then they left.”

Parnell’s voice had turned matter-of-fact and Serena guessed he had reached the end of his tale. That realisation did nothing to calm the nervous prickle that thrilled along her spine. An idea was forming in the back of her mind and, as much as she tried to push it away, it stubbornly remained and grew more appealing.

“The owner realised he’d done wrong by the gamekeeper and they say the sound haunted him to the end of his days. More than anyone else, he firmly believed the noise was caused by the gamekeeper, perpetually carrying out the final duty that he had been given – the task he had been hung for performing.”

Thick silence cloaked the room. Beneath the monotonous tick of the grandfather clock, Serena could hear the deepening pitch of her own excited breath.

“The sounds are still meant to occur now and again but in this age of insulation and double-glazing you’d have to be outside to hear it,” Parnell told them. “All you have to do is wait for the night of the full moon, stand beneath the oak tree, and they say you can hear every slice of the birch descending.” He adjusted his glasses again and glanced at the grandfather clock. “They also say that if you go out there just after midnight, propped against the oak tree, you’ll find a stout length of birch.”

Serena could hear her heart pounding.

“And with that said,” Parnell told them. “I’m going to excuse myself and get some much needed sleep.”

There was a murmur of goodnights as Parnell made his way out of the room. Serena feigned a theatrical yawn and said, “I think I should turn in now.” She kicked Charlotte’s leg beneath the table and, for the benefit of their hosts, glanced at her with an expression of polite enquiry. “Are you ready to retire, sis?”

“Apparently,” Charlotte replied.

Ignoring her questioning frown, Serena said goodnight to their hosts and escorted her sister from the room. “What do you think?” Serena asked, as soon as they had reached the stairs. “What do you think?”

“I think you should stop kicking my leg when we’re at dinner parties,” Charlotte replied. “I thought you’d broken that habit when you were six. I’m going to have a bruise now.”

“I don’t mean about my kicking you,” Serena hissed, not bothering to disguise her impatience. “I’m talking about Parnell’s story. Did it give you any ideas?”

Charlotte shrugged. “It made me question the dubious mentality of our hosts and their guests. Or did you mean something other than that?”

Wearily, Serena shook her head. They mounted the stairs quickly and she pushed her sister into the shared bedroom before daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

“I want to try it.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Have you been mixing travel sickness pills and alcohol again?”

“I mean it. I want to try it.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No way.”

“Didn’t the idea excite you? Didn’t it give you a thrill just thinking about it?”

“No,” Charlotte said firmly. She frowned and then asked, “What idea?”

“The idea of being spanked beneath a full moon. Doesn’t the thought send your pulse racing?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No.” She looked as though she was trying to make her denial sincere but Serena could see something shining in her sister’s eyes.

“Well, the thought sends my pulse racing,” she decided. “Look.” She was standing by the window with the curtains pulled back. With an accusing finger, she pointed at the full moon. It stood brilliant silver against the night’s blackness.

Charlotte glanced at it, then looked away. “You’re crazy,” she whispered.

“It’s a full moon,” Serena told her. “Perhaps you can’t see it, but I know exactly why the eldest daughter wanted to be spanked in such a way. Can’t you imagine the excitement of being chastised in a situation like that? Can’t you picture the thrill of a full moon and the chilling sound of a sweeping birch? Can’t you imagine the sensation of having that stout length of birch landing against your buttocks?”

“I’m going to bed, Serena,” Charlotte said coldly. She began picking at the buttons on the front of her blouse. “Try not to wake me if you have any more grotesque fantasies.”

Serena stepped towards her and grabbed her wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re coming with me. We’ll ask Parnell if he can oblige us both.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No way.”

“You two have been giving one another eyes all weekend,” Serena reminded her. “He’ll do it if you ask.”

“He won’t do it for me, because I won’t ask,” Charlotte said simply. “No way, sister. No.”

Serena glared at her. “Please,” she started. “I really want to try this. I don’t know why, but it feels important to me.”

“No way.” She glared up from the bed with an adamant expression thinning her lips.

Serena snatched her hand away and turned her back. Slumping her shoulders into a sulk, she growled, “I should have expected as much. You never do anything for me, do you?”