Chapter Four
Where the Lady Chelsea discovers that perhaps she wasn't quite so lady like after all.
Chelsea awoke with a start. She was in a small room with bare walls which she did not recognise and for a moment, was completely startled at waking somewhere other than her usual bedroom. She was used to being woken by her maid very late in the morning, but today she was in a strangers house. She looked around at the plain white room, with a dresser, a basin and pitcher of water and a large full length dress mirror on the other wall. There was no cupboard or any other element to the room other than this and while the windows let in generous light, they were closed and looked like they had been for some time. The only other way out was through the door.
Then she remembered what had happened the previous evening with Sir Douglas and Onna. After her first screaming orgasm with Onna and having had her first taste of a woman, she had been brought to this room and washed with a brisk efficiency. After Onna had given her a white cotton shift, she had provided Chelsea with some biscuits and a jug of cold water, which Onna had served to her. She was then told by Onna to go straight to bed and not to leave the room until she was ordered to.
Fortunately the room came equipped with a chamber pot. Chelsea had waited for Onna to leave the room before she used it. It was funny she thought that a mere hour ago she had her mouth filled to bursting with Onna's shaved pussy and yet she was embarrassed at having to use a chamber pot by herself. It appeared that for the moment at least, her decorum had been popped just as firmly as a clowns balloon at the circus.
She had felt no shame at what had occurred the previous evening. While some of the details proved to be somewhat embarrassing, she was not a shy or retiring type of woman, so she felt quite comfortable the next morning. It had been a long time since something sexual had caused her anywhere near the level of humiliation or sheer, thigh wetting excitement that she had experienced the evening before.
In a strange way, she felt almost happy. Her life as a member of the aristocracy had become very jaded over the last few years and the round of parties and social engagements where one met the same people had become almost a torture in itself. The gambling and socialising with the Duchess had become a past time of those with too much money to care and enough to insulate themselves from the reality of wagering hundreds of pounds on a single hand of cards. The high stakes weeded out the nouveau riche rather quickly and those like herself who had inherited "old" money had so much that it would take a true degenerate lifetime to work their way through.
Now though, she was in a strange place, not held captive but here of her own free will in a bid to out dare the duchess and she felt alive. Gloriously and luxuriously alive in a way which she had not felt for many years. Feeling very clean and somewhat humbled, the Lady Chelsea thought of herself here as only "Chelsea", the girl who before womanhood and the Darwinian experience of the aristocratic social set had enjoyed riding her horses.
What also excited her was that she feelings that she had coursing through her after last night! It was like her first seduction, when she had terrified one of her fathers grounds keepers into taking her virginity, that same heart pounding, adrenalin blood rush that she had felt that first time. She realised now that it had been a very clumsy experience when she had her maidenhead broken, but the feeling of triumph she had as she walked back to her rooms with her panties bunched up in her pocket was extraordinary.
Despite the lovers she had taken, she had never been ravished as she had the previous evening. The memory of Onna's lips on hers, the touch of her hand on Onna's delicate breasts and the force with which Onna had come to her own plateau, leaving a wash of her womanly juices all over Chelsea's lips and face. These were memories that had been etched into her mind with the force of pure sex. She flushed just at the memory of this sensual and life changing experience.
Then there was Sir Douglas. Chelsea felt a brush of fear just thinking about him, but this made her thoughts of him just that much more exciting.. The soft velvety touch of his cock on her face from the previous evening haunted her. The smell of his skin, that musky smell of man that made her breath catch and her thighs twitch together haunted her. She had dreamt of him the previous night, imaging him pinning her to her bed while he ran his cock in and out of her, while her heels were high in the air, crossed over his back and buttocks, pulling him into her again and again.
She shook herself and came back to the present after a sharp tinge from her backside and thighs. She walked over to where there was a large mirror positioned against the wall next to the dresser. Turning slightly, she slowly brought up the cotton shift up over her legs, her thighs and then over the curve of her rump, which she saw with a feeling of both amazement and horror were now criss-crossed with the purplish green bruises from Sir Douglas's belt. This was the tangible evidence, the brutal reality of the pain and humiliation of the previous evening that was confronting for her to see. Despite this, she was fascinated by the marks, almost as if they were some kind of ritual marking that illustrated the step into the unknown that she had taken.
She flashed back to his entry into the basement, the sight of his cock stretching the fabric of his clothing as his large leather belt was taken off and the large metal head of its buckle hit the floor. The feel of it being swung through the air and the sheer agony of it cutting into her soft white skin. The heat of the welts and the way that she started to push into the welts, thrusting her ass into the air to be beaten and the pulsing velvety wetness between her legs that this had all created.
She realised that she was still standing there with her shift exposing her backside in front of the mirror so she dropped it back down to around her ankles. There was a note on the dresser and it was from Onna. It gave her instructions not to leave the room and that there was ointment and creams there that would help with the bruising.