The Gentleman's Accomplice

The year is 1905 and the location, in the fashionable London East End. It was a time where England ruled the waves, the sun never set on the English Empire and morality and Christian ethics were the order of the day. Humanity however, had not changed and the aristocracy continued with their lives filled with a desperate search for meaning in a world which accommodated their every whim.

Where the Lady Chelsea learns the perils of wishing for something out of the ordinary as you just might get what you wish for.

The Lady Chelsea burned with humiliation and shame as that bitch of a servant Onna put her right foot into the manacle that held her legs apart. To think that she was stripped down to the bare skin, with her most intimate of private places exposed for viewing by whoever walked in the door, it was almost too much for her to bear. How had it all come to this? What had she done to deserve this fate and why hadn't she listened to her conscience when it could have done her some good?

It had all started over a game of cards, surreptitiously held at her friend and confidant's house the Duchess of Malmsbury. She was of the same age as the Lady Chelsea and they had often found themselves talking together when the men had withdrawn for brandy and cigars.

It had been the Duchess who had introduced her to gambling and she had both won and lost large sums of money at the drawing rooms at many of the social gatherings that London society attended. When money was unable to be paid, woe betide the lady who was unable to meet her debts as the Duchess would set a suitably humiliating task for the socialite to perform, much to the amusement of everyone else. Why, just last month, one of the older ladies was forced to commit an act of such indecency that it was the talk of their small social set ever since. The Lady Chelsea had no idea that such a thing could be done with a piece of tropical fruit or that it would provide so much pleasure to the lady forced to perform in front of her peers, but it was due to this lascivious and jaded environment that the Lady Chelsea found herself placed onto the path that led to her present predicament.

The Lady Chelsea had been discussing her marital problems with the Duchess who exclaimed rudely and threw her cards down on the table. "Your husband, while a suitable match for you in terms of social standing and finances, has left you as high and dry as any half-penny rowboat during high tide." she said. "Your husband is more interested in the curve of a mans thigh than anything you might have to offer and mores' the pity as I understand that he left your stableboy waddling like a duck for a week after he'd buggered him after Church on a Sunday". All of the ladies who were either playing or watching the game laughed at her discomfiture and the fact that she had turned a bright red at all of the attention.

"I knew that when I married him" replied Chelsea, "although I did have some pretensions towards breaking him of his habit for young men after we were married. The problem is that I have taken the odd lover or two and I have found them to be generally too bothersome after they have scratched my itch" she said. "They have had a terribly unfortunate tendency to fall in love with me which can be damned awkward if we're all at the same social function. In fact Old Barton's funeral was awful as the both of them were glaring at me and then each other, I thought they were going to break into fisticuffs right there and then!".

"What am I going to do with you?" said the Duchess, pinching Chelsea's cheek between thumb and forefinger. "You remind me at your age and I'm afraid that you share my passion for danger which can be difficult to manage within the eyes and ears of our friends and enemies within society. God forbid if you were forced to be thrown to the mercies of those journalists from Fleet Street, or even worse to find yourself lampooned within a penny dreadful, drawn with your ankles and skirts in the air being serviced by a poorly drawn caricature of the Prime Minister."

Chelsea arched an eyebrow and said "It sounds like you've had some experience with the press" and the circle of ladies grew quiet as they waited for the Duchesses response.

The Duchesses iron gaze transfixed Chelsea into her seat as she realised that she had overstepped the mark. "It took quite a few years before I was allowed within polite society after that scandal and I'm afraid that you're headed in the same direction" the Duchess said. "You cannot imagine what it is like to find that all that you thought was yours, your friends, your family, your social standing, all taken away from you due to a moment of indecency that was unfortunately exposed to the wrong people by a malicious slanderer. I think that there is only one thing for you and I'm not sure whether you will enjoy the experience or not, but it's time you were taught a lesson".

With this pronouncement, the Duchess spent some time composing a letter which she did not allow Chelsea to see, then gave it to her in an envelope. "I want you to take this message to a very good friend of mine. His name is Sir Douglas Weatherfell and when you give this message to him I want you to tell him that no effort is to be spared. He has my full permission to engage the full spectrum of his talents in this case and that he is to write back to me while you wait".

Chelsea took the envelope in her hand and when the Duchess told her "Now go girl and see this gentleman who is a very good friend of mine. If he cannot set you on the right path I do not know who will and god help you if you disappoint him".

Chelsea left feeling somewhat put out. While the influence of the Duchess was not to be underestimated as it reached to the very palace itself, why had she been so put out by what Chelsea had said? Clearly she had touched on an old scandal that probably predated her birth, which was probably still an issue that was very sensitive for the Duchess. Remembering some of the pranks and tasks that the Duchess had set for those of her circle who had displeased her, Chelsea believed that she had gotten off lightly by being asked to deliver a message to a strangely unknown gentleman. Maybe there was mischief afoot. Adjusting her hat on the way to her carriage, the Lady Chelsea knew that she was up to any challenge that the old bat might have set for her.

Her carriage had taken her across town to Bacchus Street in the fashionable suburb of Rivermount where Sir Douglas Weatherfell resided. She was curious to see what this member of the nobility would have in store for her and she was sure that there would be a surprise somewhere with this task. Perhaps it would just be a wasted journey while she was made to look like a fool for asking to see someone who didn't exist. Perhaps it would be a task like she had been forced to do before, such as stealing an item from the gentleman's parlour or even flirting outrageously with him. She had done these things and more at the Duchesses whim and she was not sure what to expect though this time around. She had the feeling that she had stirred unseen depths judging by the Duchesses demeanour when she left.

She stood outside the door of 13 Bacchus street feeling strangely unsure of herself. If she disobeyed the Duchess it would mean beating an unseemly retreat for her country estate in Dorset. Her husband was there and while he was amusing himself with the stable hands, she was sure that she would be trapped into an unending round of pointless social engagements with what passed for local society. So she steadied her nerves and knocked on the emerald green door of number 13.

The door was opened by an oriental woman who was quite petite and very courteous. "How may I help you" she inquired with a lilting sing-song voice that was very enchanting. The Lady Chelsea said "I have a message here from the Duchess of Malmsbury for Sir Weatherfell and I have been asked to deliver it personally". The oriental lady brightened at the mention of the Duchess and motioned her inside to a sitting room. She was asked if she would like some tea while she summoned Sir Weatherfell to receive the message.

Chelsea was very curious about the mysterious Sir Weatherfell as she had not met him in her several years of parading throughout London society. She had not even heard a mention of his name. From the look of the décor throughout his sitting room and the oriental servant, he may have recently returned from abroad, which would explain why they had not crossed paths during her years in London.

Intrigued by the décor, she walked slowly around the room. There were several fans along the walls and an absolutely exquisite painted series of panels which showed various scenes of oriental splendour. Along the wall there was an aged set of drawers with some lovely porcelain vases, clearly of the highest quality in a magnificent Asian style. You could clearly see the sunlight through the meticulously crafted porcelain.

The oriental lady opened the door preceding the master of the house. She introduced him, saying "Lady Chelsea, please let me introduce Sir Douglas Weatherfell". The man she was introduced to was striking. He was not too tall, probably around five foot four inches, but the very first thing that she noticed was his sense of presence. There would be no ignoring this man in a crowd, she said to herself as she looked him up and down. He had very piercing blue/green eyes which had the sense of a far horizon to them, as if he had been very well travelled. His hair was short, cut in a military style with a generous moustache and beard rounding out his face in a very pleasing manner. He did have very broad shoulders she thought, noting that his hands were very warm to the touch, almost hot compared to the cool air outside.

"How may I help you?" Douglas said as he appraised her appearance in the same way. She took a deep breath that accentuated her bosom in a way that had been known to stop conversation and looked at him under her heavy eyelashes. "The Duchess of Dorset has asked me to personally deliver this message to you Sir Weatherfell" she said, handing over the envelope.

Douglas opened it with a flourish and his face went from surprise as he read it to a rakish good humour. He started laughing and said to the oriental lady "It looks like our friend the Duchess has sent us a present" as he handed the letter over to Chelsea to read.

The letter said:

My Dearest Douglas,

It has been a long time since I've had the pleasure of your company and I often think of you and your maidservant Onna. I have not had such an intense experience for some time and I eagerly look forward to our next meeting when you have finished establishing your household now that you have returned to London. I often think of you when I have one of these stuck up society strumpets on display in front of my acquaintances.

Speaking of which I have sent to you the Lady Chelsea. She is dear to me but requires some very strict lessons in both manners and subtlety. She has been fornicating her way through the younger nobility for several months now and is fast acquiring a reputation as a lady of easy virtue. While this is not in itself a bad thing, I fear that it will restrict her movement in society and may be a cause of some regret to her in the future. Speaking from my own experience, these things can be very difficult to live down in later life.

I wish you to ensure that the Lady Chelsea is rogered to within an inch of her life. I also want to ensure that she understands that there is more to be had from life than just an endless succession of hardened male members.

I give you full permission to treat her as you will. Show her this letter so that she understands that if she does not acquiesce to being a student, then she will be barred from becoming part of my inner circle of friends and will never be seen anywhere near the royal court or the aristocracy again. Warn her of my serious intentions in this and that while she can choose between the bright lights of the city or the tepid waters of her estates in the country, once she chooses there can be no going back.

Forever your faithful slut,

Susan.

Chelsea felt almost dizzy as she read the note, sensing the amusement of Douglas and Onna as they witnessed her discomfiture. What would she do? What did the duchess mean by becoming his student? Her mind was ablaze with unanswered questions, but she knew that the Duchess (whose first name she had never heard uttered anywhere) was deadly earnest about the prospect of banishment. She had heard of such a thing happening. One day a young socialite, the next never seen again in "polite" society, with whispers of scandal ensuring that the aristocratic doors were closed forevermore. What the jaded members of this social set did for fun would amaze many from the broader public, but any hint of scandal or publicity to the awful broadsheet newspapers of the city and you would never find yourself attending the Royal Ascot races again!

"So what do you choose Chelsea?", Douglas asked, "banishment or what lies behind this door? I warn you that once you step outside of this room into my house you will be forever bound by your decision, I guarantee that! What will happen will shock and amaze you and you will find yourself engaged in all manner of things unspeakable, but I also promise you an end to the ordinary, that is for certain."

Chelsea took another deep breath and steadied herself. This won't be the only person you've slept with to get yourself out of trouble she thought. If I have to be this man's plaything, we will see who ends up as the puppet and who is the puppeteer at the end of it. I won't be banished from London for anything and I'll beat the Duchess at her own game. She promised herself a future revenge against the Duchess that would serve to be as troublesome as this humiliating encounter would be as she stepped forward, looking Douglas in the eye. "I will be your student, Douglas and I await your pleasure" she said, curtseying down low in a way that provided an excellent view of her cleavage. She had practiced many times in front of an angled mirror to achieve exactly this effect.

"Take her downstairs Onna and prepare her for her first lesson" Douglas said to his maidservant. Do not spare her from any of the usual steps and make sure that she is ready for me when I come down."

"Come this way" Onna said, taking her by the hand and opening another green door leading into the depths of the house. Chelsea heard the front door bell chime as Onna led her down the corridor and then down some stairs that led to the basement of the house.

As Chelsea walked past Onna into the basement, she let out a gasp. Small brass lanterns spread a soft yellow light amongst the broad wooden beams that were both pillars and support beams for the roof. The large basement was empty except for different apparatus that were distributed throughout the large area. There was gymnastic and sports equipment that she recognised from her schooling, but as Onna led her towards the far wall, she saw a large oaken barrel that rose half buried in the bricks of the cellar floor.

Onna said "The Master has instructed me to make you ready for him, so you will lay down across this" as she pointed to the large oaken barrel which had a broad leather mat attached to it. Chelsea noted with some alarm the manacles that were clearly for both hands and feet at both sides of the barrel and turned to Onna and said "You've got to be joking?". Onna grabbed her hand and twisted and Chelsea found herself screaming in pain as she stood on tip toes to try and stop the pain shooting through her wrist and up to her shoulder. Onna manoeuvred her across and then tripped her, deftly ensuring that she fell across the barrel. Onna kept her in place by touching her in a place between her neck and shoulder that froze her in place as if she had been stuck dead. Fully conscious, able to breathe but not speak, Chelsea lay there fuming in anger as her hands and feet were manacled in place.

Chelsea's anger rapidly turned into shame and horror as her shoes and stockings were removed. She could hear some movement behind her and then heard the terrible sound of a knife being drawn and the tearing of it through her clothes. While she could not move or speak, she could still feel the sensation of her dress being removed through the expedience of being cut off her back, as if she was some animal being skinned of its finery. Laying there in her corset and lacy underclothes, she flushed a deep pink as she could sense Onna's regard.

Chelsea was then rolled over so that she was facing the ceiling. Due to the curve of the barrel she could only see part of Onna as her corset was undone and then removed, leaving her breasts bare in the warm air of the basement. Then she heard the knife again as her underclothes were cut off her in the same abrupt manner as her dress was removed.

Onna then walked around to where her head and shoulders were placed on the mat and knelt in the oriental manner, with Chelsea's head and shoulders being lifted and placed in her lap. She then massaged life back into Chelsea through the manipulation of the nerves in her neck and shoulders. When she could move and speak again, Chelsea screamed "You'll pay for this you harlot!" as she went for Onna's eyes with her fingernails extended. She was pulled up short by the manacle chains as Onna laughed with enjoyment at her obvious fury.

"The Master told me to make you ready for him and I shall" Onna said, standing as she undid her clothing, removing the Chinese style dress with its various fastenings and letting the dark blue silken sheath drop down to her ankles. She was gloriously naked as Chelsea saw her body for the first time. She looked up from the floor along Onna's smooth and glorious legs to what she saw with some surprise were completely shaved womanly parts, leading over a hard stomach to some exquisitely small breasts with buds of nipples protruding from them. Onna knelt again and pulled Chelsea's head back to her lap, where she looked down with some amusement at Chelsea.

Chelsea lay there, struck dumb by the intensity of the situation. She was acutely aware of the heat pouring from Onna's feminine parts against the top of her head and the intimacy of Onna's embrace. "The Master does not appreciate the hair that you white women have" Onna said. I am going to shave you clean and I will be using a straight razor which is very, very sharp. You will need to lay very still, with your legs open or else you will be cut which will be very, very unpleasant". Chelsea gulped as her head reeled with everything that was happening. She felt distant and very separate to what started to happen to her.

Onna applied a very hot towel to Chelsea's privates, which Chelsea tried to ignore but despite her desperate attempts to mentally separate herself from what was happening, the damp heat from the towel began to penetrate her, like the stroking fingers of her latest bravo that she had seduced while attending the funeral the previous week. She didn't know why this memory should seep into the forefront of her mind, but she could feel her innermost self melting in the most delicious way. She gasped as Onna removed the towel and then spread her legs, changing the length of the chain in some manner that Chelsea couldn't see. Onna began to lather her privates with a sweetly scented soap which made Chelsea writhe in place, unable to close her legs due to the chain and unable to move except to make small movements with her hips which just seemed to accentuate the sensual feeling radiating through her stomach and thighs.

"Lay very still now" Onna said and Chelsea felt the sharp edge of the straight razor slide across the flesh of her pubic mound. Chelsea froze in place, almost too scared to breath as the razor, in short sharp strokes removed the hair from her, skirting and sliding along the most intimate parts of her. Despite the feel of the razor, which had been cold to begin with but soon took on the heat of her body, Chelsea began to melt from the inside out. She could feel the moisture of her sex beading along the lips of her private parts, turning to a slow trickle of thick, wet moisture that soon began to lubricate the slide of the blade across her. Onna noted the change in her demeanour and the obvious languor that her posture across the barrel took, as well as the slow push of Chelsea's hips towards the blade as she scraped the hair from alongside Chelsea's labial lips.