At The Mercy Of Mrs Letchworth Ch 01

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This is the first of a series of chapters for a new story that includes many of my usual elements: natural body fluids and products, strong smells, D/s, spanking, ridiculous premises, and eccentric characters, all over the age of 18. If any of these things are not to your taste or offend you, I suggest you exit immediately and look elsewhere on Lit for stories more up your alley. I present my writings here for my fans, who appreciate what I am doing and get my sense of humor. I have uploaded this under the Fetish category, as that seems to best encompass the mix of activities included.[

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In order for you to truly appreciate what I went through at the time when I grew out of late childhood and came of age, I should share a few intimate details. Don't get me wrong. I do not regret any of it, but I admit that it may strike some readers as decidedly bizarre.

Now that I am in my seventies, I just view it as the follies of youth, or perhaps the mutual attraction between the young and the old, or the innocent and the guilty. In any case, I trust you will enjoy my tale of succumbing to the magnetic pull of a voluptuous woman in her mid-forties, who drew me into her orbit of erotic domination and submission, and changed me forever.

* * *

By all accounts, I was an exceedingly shy lad in my early years, much given to sequestering myself away from social interactions with most children my own age, much less those younger than me. By the same token, I was attracted to kids a few years older, or even adults, perhaps viewing them as seasoned guides to the maturity I sought.

All these distinctions were blown to smithereens, when my parents were killed in a terrible automobile accident, shortly before I turned eighteen. I was too young and inexperienced to be let loose on my own, but just old enough to feel the tug of freedom.

A sympathetic family friend took on the task of arranging a modest funeral service for my parents and their cremation. He suggested I look through my parents' papers and see if I found anything resembling an estate plan or a will. I strongly doubted that such things existed, but I remembered the two-drawer filing cabinet that they had in the corner of their bedroom, and went through it.

Against all odds, I found a file folder marked "Important papers", and discovered a will and estate plan that they must have been persuaded to fill out when I was born. These documents dated back to the month of my birth, and were incredibly minimal, indicating that my parents had almost no assets that could be considered an "estate". However, on one line of the forms, a Mrs. Constance Letchworth was listed as my guardian, should my parents die and I was rendered an orphan.

I had no idea who this woman was, and during my childhood, my parents had never mentioned her. My hunch was that she was a friend of theirs from college days, and someone who had agreed to look after me, in the event of their death. Perhaps she and they had drifted apart over time, and the estate plan was filed away and forgotten by all concerned.

My parents had always struggled as a family, paying rent, month to month, on a cramped apartment in a rundown part of town. My folks, despite having attended college, had partied their way through their time there, and ended up settling for low-wage service jobs, which usually paid just enough for us to scrape by. I was used to this arrangement, and I had no great hopes for attending college myself. I was an amiable shy teenager, who had missed out on the social high points of high school, and ended up orphaned and confused, just after I graduated.

* * *

Time was running out on my occupation of our apartment, as my parents were no longer there to pay the rent. I attended their funeral in my Sunday best, stung by the irony that it fell on my 18th birthday. I had no idea what was expected of me, or what I should say. After a few family friends stood up and delivered eulogies, it came time for me to make my remarks. All I could muster was that I loved my parents, missed them deeply, and hoped that I could somehow struggle on. It was as pathetic as it was heartfelt, and as I was delivering it, my gaze became fixed upon an older woman in the sparse crowd present, who seemed to draw my attention to her, and especially to her voluptuous form.

She wore a long, tightly fitted, black silk dress, a black wide-brimmed sun hat, tied with a black ribbon under her chin, and a translucent black veil, through which shown her perfectly applied makeup, especially her dark maroon lipstick. Her mane of long shiny black hair, highlighted by a few streaks of gray, flowed down past her shoulders, looking as if it blended seamlessly into her dress. This somber mourning outfit was offset by a plunging décolletage, which displayed a deep cleavage which drew my rapt attention and wouldn't let go.

Beside her sat a demure doll-like girl, also draped in black, though without a hat or veil. Her blond hair was braided in pigtails on either side of her head and her face was powdered a stark white, with red blush highlights on her cheeks. She looked bored with the whole proceeding, and was amusing herself by making an endless series of ugly and grotesque facial expressions.

When it came time to wrap up the service, I stood by the door, receiving hugs from the ladies, and expressions of sympathy from everyone. All the while, the mysterious pair in black, held back until everyone else was gone. It was then that the buxom mourner came over and introduced herself as Constance Letchworth and her companion as Henrietta, her niece. The doll-like girl performed a perfect curtsey, somehow managing to stick out her pink pointed tongue at me at the same time. Mrs. Letchworth gave her a sound knock on the top of her head and hissed "Stop it!"

Then she turned to me and explained that she had not forgotten her promise, made many years ago, to be my guardian should my parents die an untimely death. She had a spare bedroom in her home, and would be happy for me to come live with her family.

Mrs. Letchworth then hugged me to her sizable bosom and assured me that everything would be okay. I certainly hoped so, as my youthful boner sprang to attention and announced its enthusiasm. I was concerned that Mrs. Letchworth might notice my aroused state, but she said not a word, merely giving me an indulgent smile as she pressed herself against me, forcing my face into her cleavage which was damp with a light patina of sweat and smelled of a floral perfume, strangely reminiscent of hothouse orchids.

Once she had gotten her fill of clutching my thin frame to her fleshy body, she stepped back and gave me a once over, raising an arched eyebrow at the sight of my pants' crotch tenting out. She flashed me a wicked smile and a wink, and said in a sultry tone, "Oh, yes, dear child, I am sure you will fit in perfectly. Why don't we drive by your apartment, see what you wish to bring with you, and then we can take you home to your new life."

I let out a great sigh of relief and thanked Mrs. Letchworth profusely, holding back tears, while Henrietta stood a few steps removed, rolling her eyes at this sentimental display. Then, just out of her aunt's peripheral vision, she flipped up her short black skirt and petticoats, showing me her pink cotton panties, with little stray curlies peeking out from its edges. Then in a flash, her skirt dropped, making me wonder if I had really seen what I saw, or if it had just been a hallucination.

Blithely unaware of this display, Mrs. Letchworth, explained that today was Henrietta's 18th birthday and there would be a little celebration following dinner tonight.

"But, today is my 18th birthday, too!" I told her excitedly.

"Well then, we'll celebrate yours as well! Perhaps you are Henrietta's long lost twin, now come home. What a marvelous idea! Alright then, off to your place."

* * *

Once there, I stuffed the few clothes and belongings I owned into my backpack, swooped up an album of family photos, and dug out the file folder of "Important papers" which I handed to Mrs. Letchworth. My new guardian explained that it would be a cleaner exit if I just vanished and let the landlords keep any deposit that my folks had made. The landlords could dispose of the furniture, kitchenware, toiletries, and all the other odds and ends left behind. Then we drove off to her home, which turned out to be an old gothic mansion in a wealthy part of town.

Once I was ushered inside, I became better acquainted with my new family. Henrietta, I was informed, was better known as "Dollie", while Mrs. Letchworth's elderly husband, Bertrand, was presented to me as "Bertie", a pliable servant, dressed as a maid and attentive to his wife's every wish. Though I didn't give it much thought at the time, I later surmised that Bertrand must have inherited a fortune, allowing the Letchworths to live a unique lifestyle, sequestered away from the morals and norms of the rest of society. Mrs. Letchworth struck me as in her mid-forties, at least fifteen or twenty years younger than her husband.

A certain feeling of dread overcame me, smothering the feeling of relief that I had initially felt at my rescue by my guardian. Some dark suspicion crept in, making me wonder if I might be naively acquiescing to a destiny as a submissive slave of Mrs. Letchworth. Indeed, I had been there no more than fifteen minutes, when Mrs. Letchworth marched her husband out of the room by his ear, to have a stern word with him, and Dollie leapt up and rushed over to me with a look of panic on her delicate powdered face.

"You must flee, flee!" she insisted in a tiny voice. "Run as fast as you can and don't look back! Once Auntie has you in her clutches, you are doomed!"

I already had my qualms, and this unnerved me even more. But before I could manage a reply, Mrs. Letchworth flung open the door abruptly and strode back into the room, catching Dollie in my vicinity.

"What have you been up to, you treacherous tart? Who gave you permission to approach our new resident?"

Dollie yelped like a small dog who had been caught stealing a breakfast sausage, and fell to her knees, pleading forgiveness from her Mistress.

"Please, Auntie!" she prevaricated. "I was only welcoming our new friend to our happy home. Don't punish me, I beg you!"

"So you say, Henrietta. If I find you've lied to me or breached your boundaries, you will be punished appropriately, with no mercy, do you hear me?"

It was painful for me to see Dollie reduced to a crying and sniveling wreck, her delicate makeup marred by her tears and grief. My heart went out to her and I found myself determined to try to protect her from whatever harsh measures Mrs. Letchworth was alluding to.

"What exactly did Dollie say to you, William? Don't lie to me or both of you will be sorry you were ever born!"

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my pounding heart. I was normally inclined to honesty, but Mrs. Letchworth's rage was anything but normal. I swiftly decided that confirming Dollie's fib was the best course of action. It was clearly risky, but if I was persuasive enough, we might both escape punishment.

"Please, Mrs. Letchworth, Dollie simply explained to me that life here was quite special and unique, as long as we all followed the rules and didn't try to challenge your experience or expertise."

I was laying it on a bit thick, but I met Mrs. Letchworth's steely glare with a look of utter sincerity, and that seemed to deflate her suspicions and earned me a covert glance of gratitude from Dollie.

Thus was I introduced to the household of my new guardian, Mrs. Letchworth, or perhaps my new "Auntie", as she preferred I address her. I was given a room of my own, on the upper floor, next to Dollie's, though at some distance from Mrs. Letchworth's bedroom, which was farther down the dark hallway. Bertrand -- commonly called Bertie -- apparently slept in the basement.

* * *

My initial meal in my new surroundings was by candlelight that first night, with Bertie serving as both cook and server. Few words were spoken during dinner, though Mrs. Letchworth did note that Bertrand had baked a small cake in honor of my arrival and to celebrate "the twins" (as she referred to us) coming of age. I was beginning to think that perhaps I had misjudged Auntie after all, when she suddenly announced that we were each to receive eighteen spanks, as part of the birthday celebration. And, in an added twist, I was to receive mine from Dollie, while I was tasked with giving Dollie hers.

You should understand that my parents had not believed in corporal punishment, so I had never been spanked before, and hardly knew what to expect or how to proceed. Dollie, I suspected, had probably been spanked or paddled numerous times in her residency in this very house.

While she had put on quite a show of begging for mercy earlier, Dollie took the news of our spanking each other with a different spirit altogether. It was as if she couldn't wait to get her hands on me and pepper my butt with slaps. Mrs. Letchworth noticed this eagerness and promptly announced that I would be spanked first.

"Strip down to your undies, you two. We don't want to have your clothes spoiled by any 'accidents'. Bertie, would you place the spanking chair in the living room facing the davenport?. Dollie, you will give William his spanking first, to show him how things are done around here. If you do a good job, I may put you in charge of his future punishments. Would you like that?"

Dollie looked like she had just been offered a lifetime supply of ice cream cones. She nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, Auntie. Thank you, so much. How harsh should I be?"

"Well, this spanking is just for birthday fun, so I think a good smacking would be sufficient. Just your hand on his bare buttocks."

While this conversation proceeded, Dollie and I were removing our clothes as quickly as possible, which in my case was straight-forward: I just had to unbuckle my trousers, unbutton my shirt, and kick off my shoes and sox.

Dollie's dress was a different matter. Her black top and skirt were buttoned up the back. She walked over to me once I was down to my undershorts and requested my assistance. As she held her blonde pigtails aside, I unfastened the vertical row of buttons down to her waist and then lifted the top and skirt up over her head. She unbuttoned her petticoats and let them drop to the floor to step out of. That left her bra, which had the diminutive dimensions of a training bra. I looked over to Auntie, as if to say "this too?"

"Yes, off with her bra. You two will need to get used to seeing each other naked. Now that I have a proper pair of twins, I have big plans for you."

I pondered what that could mean, as I fiddled with her clasps. I finally got them unhooked, and Dollie shrugged the bra straps off her shoulders, and tossed the bra aside. I was awestruck by her dainty little titties, each of which looked like it could easily fit in a shot-glass. They were all pink nipples and areolas covering little mounds about the size of small half-limes. Dollie wrinkled her nose at me, and grinned impishly.

"Bite size, aren't they?" she taunted in her high-pitched little voice.

"Dollie! Behave yourself!" Mrs. Letchworth scolded.

"Or what?" she sassed back. "Or you'll have me spanked? Coming right up!"

"Oh, you impossible child!" Mrs. Letchworth sputtered. "Keep it up and a spanking will be the least of it."

That shut Dollie up, who quickly turned to the task at hand. She took a seat on the simple wooden spanking chair, clad only in her pink panties, as the Letchworths arranged themselves on the plush sofa to view the proceedings.

"Alright, Willy, come and take your medicine, birthday boy!" Dollie chirped.

She indicated that I should spread myself across her tiny little lap. But there was just one problem. Gazing on her bite sized titties had stirred up my excitable cock, which was unfurling itself within my shorts.

"Well, hello sailor!" Dollie exclaimed. She spread her petite thighs wide, so that my tool could try and fit itself between her thighs and just below her panties' gusset.

"Willy, this is supposed to be a bare-bottom spanking, so why don't you take off your shorts before you lay down, so that we can accommodate your angle, if you get my drift. I don't want your pecker poking a hole in my thigh."

This was all rather awkward -- not to say humiliating -- for a shy teenager trying to ease myself into a new home. I glanced over at the Letchworths, and saw that they were giving my plight their rapt attention, while rubbing their own crotches, which were making squishy sounds. I swiftly peeled down my shorts, shook them off my ankles, and lowered myself down gingerly, praying that Dollie's lap could handle my weight. She shifted around until we were both reasonably comfortable, and then she gave me a swift slap, without warning.

"Ouch!" I complained.

"Shush! That was just a test spank. Now, I want you to count out each spank until we reach eighteen. And if you forget the number, or say one twice, I'll start over from the beginning. Got it?"

"That's not fair!" I protested.

"Life's not fair, especially around here. But those are the rules, and as Auntie always says: 'Just follow the rules and you'll stay out of trouble.' Isn't that right, Auntie?"

"That is exactly right, Henrietta, though you seem to forget it yourself, nearly every day. I sometimes think that you do it on purpose".

"Me? Good little me?"

"Dollie! Quit stalling and get on with it. You are keeping us all waiting."

For a petite teenager with tiny hands, Dollie could really pack a punch. Once she got into her rhythm, I could barely keep up with her, and the building pain made me lose my place somewhere around 9, so we had to start all over again.

Oddly, once the pain and heat were so bad that I broke down crying, I crossed some threshold, where I felt a quiet bliss, as if I'd died and gone to Heaven. My heart seemed to open wide and I kept saying "thank you, thank you", over and over, as Dollie spread a soothing cream over my battered bottom. I knew I loved Dollie, my mischievous twin, and my buxom Auntie with her inviting cleavage, and even Bertie, who was everyone's servant and a terrific cook. I felt much better about my new home. And now it was my turn to spank Dollie! How cool was that?

I had just one request: could I have a soft pillow to sit on, please? Auntie thought that was quite reasonable and had Dollie scamper up to my room and grab one from my bed. She was back in a flash, and from here on, we proceeded without delay.

Dollie lay across my lap, and we had much the same challenge with trying to align our respective crotches, as we had earlier. Once I pulled down and discarded her panties, she became a real wiggle worm, constantly shifting her position, as I started raining slaps down upon her perky little ass. No doubt, practice makes perfect, as she was able to yelp, shout out the rising number of spanks, and rub her furry twat against my thighs and my stiffened rod within my shorts, all at the same time.

It became clear to me, as it already was to Auntie, that Dollie was undoubtedly bad on purpose, because the painful punishments she received were experienced by her as deeply arousing and satisfying. In a feat of impressive timing, just as she received her 18th slap, she shuddered, cried out, and squirted all over my shorts and much rubbed cock.

"Sorry about the mess, Willy. I'll clean it up". She jumped up and found her panties and mopped up my crotch with them. Then, she pulled her now soggy and soiled panties back on and gave me a sly wink. What was I to make of her? Damned if I knew. The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Time to stop thinking about it, I guess. Time to head to bed.