The Rescue (3 page)

'My staff,' he
said, more calmly now, though the laughter still twinkled in his
eyes. 'Yes, I see. You haven't been introduced to this particular
young woman, of course.'

'No, my lord,
I haven't had that honour.'

'Then with
your permission, I shall do so now. Mr Montague, allow me to
present to you my wife, Lady Newburn, though I feel sure she'll
wish you to call her by her given name - Belinda. And to you, my
dear, I introduce Mr James Montague, whom I recommend unreservedly.
He is clearly your most devoted and steadfast protector.'

For a moment I was too shocked to speak. Lady
Newburn?
His
wife
, for God's sake? It
wasn't possible; the man was jesting with me. No lady would allow
herself to be dealt with in such a base fashion, and by a complete
stranger to boot.

'My protector
indeed,' she said softly, stretching up to kiss me on the
cheek.

I stared at
her, seeing only easy assurance and a tranquil smile. Anxious,
timid Bella was gone, leaving calm, self-assured Belinda in her
place. As greatly as I might wish to deny it the truth was all too
plain to see; this was indeed Lady Newburn. Which meant... oh God!
I'd just spanked and fucked the wife of a peer of the realm!

'Now that the
lost has been found,' Lord Newburn said, 'I'll go and round up our
guests. They're scattered all over the damn house at present,
searching every nook and cranny, and no doubt muttering darkly
about their host's laxity in slave training. I'd be obliged if you
would take my wife to the lounge, Mr Montague, to await her richly
deserved fate.'

He went back
into the house, shaking his head and chuckling, whilst I turned to
the woman beside me. She had tricked me. She'd made a monumental
fool of me, in fact. I'd ridden heroically to the 'rescue' like
some vainglorious knight of old, oblivious to the fact that the
damsel who fled from the dragon was actually the dragon's willing
bride. I had every right to feel outraged, for to treat an invited
guest, a stranger, in such a humiliating fashion was low indeed. I
felt my chest tighten as righteous indignation took the place of my
initial shock.

'My behaviour
was entirely unacceptable, Mr Montague,' she said, anticipating and
immediately forestalling any protestations on my part, 'and I
apologise unreservedly. My husband rebukes me often for my
mischievous sense of humour.'

'Not at all,
Lady Newburn,' I said stiffly. 'There's absolutely no need to
apologise. The fault was entirely mine for making such gross and
clearly erroneous assumptions.'

'If you'd call
me Belinda,' she said, 'I might persuade myself I'm forgiven. Not
that I deserve such swift clemency, for despite your gentlemanly
attempt to take the blame, it was a cruel trick I played on you,
sir. Perhaps my punishment will help make amends.'

'Your
punishment, Lady New... ah, Belinda?'

'Indeed, sir.
My husband's amusement was at my shameful antics, I do assure you,
not at your discomfiture. For the latter he'll certainly insist
that you punish me. I could hope for another over-the-knee
spanking, though perhaps I add insult to injury in wishing for
leniency. Whatever you decide upon, my earnest desire is that
you'll conclude it as you did my paddling in the summerhouse. If
all punishments ended in such a fervent fashion, many more women
might aspire to the life of a slave. Not that every gentleman
possesses your wonderful skills in that regard, Mr Montague, nor
indeed your kind consideration in employing them.'

I felt my
anger and resentment ebbing away under that gracious, insistent
assault. My grandfather had warned me - kindly, it's true, though a
valid warning it remained - that many gentlemen would consider my
sentimentality towards beautiful women a character flaw. He was
right, of course, but it was a defect I seemed unable to rectify.
On this occasion, try as I might, I simply couldn't sustain my
pique whilst looking into those remarkable green eyes.

'What is this
"Mr Montague", pray?' I said, affecting sternness, the closest I
could bring myself to admonishing her. 'I thought we'd agreed you
were to call me Jamie?'

A radiant
smile lit up her lovely face, destroying any last vestige of
resentment in my mind. I knew in that instant I could forgive this
woman anything.

'So we did,'
she said. 'And will you truly be my stalwart protector, Jamie, as
you were to poor Bella?'

'Assuredly,' I
said, surrendering utterly, 'though that won't prevent me spanking
you, Belinda. Your punishment, though not harsh, will certainly be
protracted. It will be followed by even lengthier clitoral
stimulation. The choice of finger or tongue, I leave to my
beautiful hostess.'

She laughed
delightedly, linking her arm in mine and steering me towards the
door. 'I can see I'll have to trick you often, Jamie,' she said.
'Would twice a day be too much, do you think?'

I had to
smile. 'To spank you and bring you to climax? As often as you would
wish, dear lady... just as often as you wish.'

-oOo-

We hope you've
enjoyed this little taster of B. A. Bradbury's erotic writings, and
if you've not yet read the complete spanking exploits of James
Montague you can do so in Obliged to Bend, Their Master's Pleasure,
and Hard Strokes - all published as eBooks by us and available to
download from numerous online bookstores and online libraries
now...

The governess
stepped in front of the girl and took hold of her hands as
requested. The two of them were now standing face to face, and I
stood at Victoria's left side.

'Are you
ready, Mrs Hammond?' I asked.

I saw her take
a firm grip on Victoria's hands. 'I am, sir.'

'And you,
Victoria? Are you quite ready?'

'Yes,
uncle.'

'Very well. We
will begin.'

I took careful
aim and delivered a crisp whack to the upper curve of Victoria's
buttocks. She let out a little gasp and her hips pushed forward. I
waited for her pale skin to flush - a pink band across the tops of
her twin mounds.

I wondered if
Victoria grasped the significance of this moment. She had just
crossed a major watershed in her life, having moved from the ranks
of the un-spanked to those of the spanked. Life for her would never
be the same...

It is the
winter of 1896, and the happiest man in England is surely James
Montague. Following the death of a distant cousin, the bachelor
finds himself owner of a large estate, and guardian to three nubile
young women: Cathy, Victoria and Elizabeth. A lifelong
disciplinarian, James has fiendish plans for his wards - plans that
involve his impressive collection of canes, straps, paddles and
whips. The staff must also submit to the new master's will, as
maids Alice and Rose soon discover to their cost.

To help him
achieve his nefarious ends, James appoints a new governess:
beautiful and buxom Irene Hammond, herself a devotee of the art of
correction. Given sole charge of Willie the hallboy and Jack the
stableboy, Irene is in seventh heaven, blissfully unaware that
James has secret plans for her too!

With Irene's
assistance, first Victoria then Cathy fall prey to their guardian's
scheming, and feel the sting of tawse and paddle on tender young
flesh. Now only the clever and lovely Elizabeth eludes his grasp...
but for how much longer can she hold out?

'Keep your
wrist loose, Jamie,' my grandfather said. 'A supple wrist is the
key to good control, remember.'

I nodded,
concentrating hard, wanting to please him. My grandfather's
approval was the most important thing in the world to me and I was
mindful of his instructions - thumb uppermost, grip firm but not
too tight, wrist loose.

'Eye on the
target, Jamie-boy,' he said. 'Are you watching the target?'

'Yes, sir.'
The target in question was a pair of round, creamy-white buttocks
belonging to Nell, one of my grandfather's maids, who was presently
touching her toes - with skirts drawn up to her waist and drawers
down to her ankles - in the middle of his study.

Lowly maids in
Victorian England, whose lives are an endless round of unremitting
toil, must surely dream of better things - yet more pitiful by far
is the plight of those unfortunate souls who find themselves in the
service of a strict disciplinarian. James Montague is a man who
delights in watching young women writhe and squirm... seeing
creamy-white buttocks turn first pink, then red, then purple...
hearing gasps of dismay turn to shrill cries of anguish.

And maids are
not alone in feeling the hot kiss of cane and strap, for James'
three wards - innocent Catherine, flirtatious Victoria and lovely,
spirited Elizabeth - are obliged to bare their bottoms with
distressing regularity. A visit by James' godson Frederick merely
adds to their woes, for the young man wishes to study the noble art
of spanking... and who better to teach him than the stern master of
Bleekston Hall?

I saw her
gather herself. I drew back my arm and swiped her hard across the
buttocks, the crack of leather against flesh loud in the still
room. She flinched at the blow, but made not a sound. Brave though
she assuredly was I knew she wouldn't remain silent for long, since
a heavy tawse wielded with conviction will test the mettle of even
the most courageous. Silence would give way to gasps, and gasps to
groans, though it would go no further than that. There would be no
shrieking and certainly no blubbering, for my governess was made of
sterner stuff.

Obliged To Bend
introduced James
Montague, Victorian gentleman of leisure and master spanker.
Their Master's Pleasure
described his continuing adventures. Now, in
Hard Strokes
, comes the
concluding part of James's story.

With his sweet
young wards, their governess Irene Hammond and a houseful of maids
in need of constant discipline, life for James has grown rather
hectic. Cane, strap and paddle have never been busier, in fact, yet
he cannot afford to relax, for fresh victims soon arrive on the
scene - women from the village guilty of various misdemeanours, his
former maid-of-all-work, Polly, and a beautiful but rash young
woman who foolishly tries to rob him. Has the master of Bleekston
Hall bitten off more than he can chew, or will his strong right arm
rise to the challenge?

-oOo-