Taking Liberties
Master had made the rules clear. Punctuality. Neatness. Exactitude.
She had paid the penalty for slackness often enough. Two minutes late bringing in her Master’s morning coffee, a caning. Her uniform showing signs of being hastily put on, ruckled up, a caning. The coffee cup with its handle facing backwards, a caning. Worse, coffee slopped on the saucer. A severe caning.
She only entered the Master’s study twice a day other than obeying a summons to be thrashed. When she brought in his coffee she was to keep her eyes averted and concentrate on her duty. The second duty of dusting and polishing was under the stern direction of the Housekeeper. The maid was eyes down, polishing the floor; the Housekeeper alone was permitted to dust and clean the various items that adorned the room. And when she attended on the Master’s summons she had little enough time to take in the surroundings and when she had the leisure to do so, as he was strapping her across the punishment bench, she was in no frame of mind to look at leisure.
But now as he was away for the day -she had seen the tail end of the note he gave the messenger – she could dare to explore that hidden space. The Housekeeper was absent but had left the keys and the maid had stealthily extracted them from their hiding place. She was at liberty to trespass in forbidden places. If she was free to set the rules, how would she like to greet the Master each morning? Perhaps slyly sliding her dress up as if by mischance? If his eyes flickered interest, might she show a teasing glimpse? He would be a difficult man to tease, it might herald trouble.
Holding a coffee cup and balancing it on the saucer she rehearsed the show, glancing over into the long mirror which set off the light from the big bay window. Its heavy curtains were pulled back into the alcove in the corner of the room and the morning light streamed in. She paraded herself in front of the mirror. Her gaze moved to the wall case. This she did know. It contained a wicked set of canes, crops and whips. Across in the bookshelf a yellow book-jacket caught her eye and she plucked it out, letting it fall open at random. There was an illustration of a woman securely strapped and a man lining up a long cane against her backside. As she read the tale a certain sensation grew stronger and stronger until she had to lean herself against the Master’s big leather chair and slide her hands down over her knickers. Despite her knowing that all was safe she hesitated before then impatiently pushing the knickers down and busying her hands with her most private parts. As the tension grew she sprawled back further, and pushing hard against the backrest, her legs open and her hips heaving, and gasping, she came.
A noise came from the doorway, that of someone trying to turn a key. The door swung open. The Master strode in, followed by the Housekeeper. They surveyed the scene- the maid sprawled in the armchair, the book fallen to the floor, the stolen keys on the desk. No words were needed. The Housekeeper pulled the punishment bench to the centre of the room and the Master pulled the maid to her feet. She started unbuttoning her dress while he watched intently. The Housekeeper selected a long vicious-looking cane and handed it to him. When the maid finally stood naked before them the Housekeeper placed a cushion at one end of the bench before strapping the maid down. With the cushion her rump was pushed up and back, her legs wide, and the Master delivered the first merciless stroke. The Housekeeper sat in front of the maid’s head, lifting her chin and fixing her gaze as the tears welled in the maid’s brown eyes and coursed down her cheeks. Still no words were spoken as the second stroke whipped hard across her buttocks, but her scream broke the silence.
– By Mike
