Chastisement Of Clara Thornton Pt 01

The Chastisement of Clara Thornton Pt 01

Much has been written about the customs and lifestyle of Victorian England as appertained to the upper classes and gentry. Old habits die hard and the attitudes persisted well into the Edwardian era and beyond. One such household was the home of Lady Amelia Thornton, widow of Lord David Thornton, who spent her time between the family pile in the North of England, Weston Manor, and her large house in London's Hampstead. Lady Amelia had decided it essential that her daughter Clara should become acquainted with the off-spring of other titled (and rich) families which would only happen if they resided in the capital.

In spite of the changing times it was still expected, amongst those who still valued Victorian values that anyone under the age of 21, especially a female, should blindly obey, and submit to the will of their parents or guardian. In fact, a female didn't have many rights at all - which caused a few problems in the Thornton household.

'I'm at my wit's end with Clara,' Lady Amelia complained. 'The girl is becoming more rebellious every day.'

Her companion, Sir Peter Walker, who had known the family a long time, empathised with the ennobled woman.

'Yes, my dear Lady A, I understand your problem. Young people today have no respect for their betters and elders.'

'Part of the problem with Clara, is that since the demise of my husband, there has been no strong male presence to keep her on the straight and narrow - or administer the necessary discipline and chastisement. I'm afraid, Peter, that if I tried to lay down the law in the physical sense, as her father undoubtedly would, had he still been with us, it would be quite ineffective.'

'What do you mean, Lady A; are you talking about taking the strap to her. Surely you're still capable of dishing out the appropriate punishment - a few whacks on her derrière?'

'Being severely scolded by me, her mother, wouldn't have the desired effect, I don't think. The girl is headstrong and would probably just grin. No, Peter, I remember when I was punished at home and indeed at finishing school in Switzerland when I was 18. The shame that comes from the humiliation of bending over to have your bottom smacked is worse than the pain - and at age 18, submitting your bottom up to be spanked or caned by a man can be very effective in making one see the error of one's ways! Clara is now aged 19 and is already breaking the rules on almost a daily basis. Why, last week she spent a great deal of time completely alone with a man - unchaperoned! What will people think?'

'Fear not, my dear,' Sir Peter, assured her, 'It's the way of the world; the days when a young woman needed to be accompanied by a chaperone every time she left the house are long gone. Women are even campaigning for the right to vote would you believe!'

'Quite ridiculous!' Lady A proclaimed. 'I must tell you Peter, I feel very disappointed by your over tolerant attitude on this subject. I had planned to ask for your assistance.'

'In what way?'

'In the absence of Clara having a father, I hoped you would take on the role of keeping the girl in check.'

Sir Peter thought for a minute.

'Are you saying you'd give your permission for me to dish out a spanking or deliver a few whacks on the backside of your errant daughter?'

'That's exactly what I'm saying,' snapped Lady A. 'The purpose of the chastisement is to cause her shame and humiliation. I expect you'd only have to carry out the task two or three times, before she complied - behave as I expect her to - complete obedience - ultimately to you too, as well, Peter. I'm very aware that you'd almost certainly receive some level of pleasure from carrying out such a task - I have no problem with that!'

Sir Peter smiled, feeling his penis stiffen. 'How can I possibly refuse such an offer?'

Sir Peter rose from his seat. It was time to carry out another task - his real reason for visiting the widow. When Lady Amelia saw him approaching the couch her breathing became laboured. She stretched out her legs and lifted her gown over her knees, exposing the hem of her pantaloons. In these modern Edwardian times, even older ladies like Lady A, now wore their undergarments much shorter and had dispensed with the uncomfortable and troublesome bustle several years earlier.

These days, when Ladies received a certain type of male visitor in their drawing room or parlours, thrusting a hand up a woman's gown was a much simpler task. Spreading her thighs out wide to offer easy access to her cunt through the split of her single leg bloomers, Lady A gasped with her usual excitement as Sir Peter knelt between her legs. As his entire arm disappeared up the ladies gown the widow uttered a deep sigh, her mouth falling open.

'When will you give my daughter her first taste of discipline,' Lady A asked, gasping and sucking deep breaths.

'I'll make myself available within the next two days,' Sir Peter answered, his arm working like a piston underneath the heavy gown of the titled lady.

'Report back to me, please, on how she reacts - and how you administer her chastisement. Now, satisfy me!'

The male friend of the widow brought her to great heights of sexual gratification, making her yell out so loud that the servants could hear. The butler, Benson, stood nearby, waiting to see the visitor to the door when he left. Below stairs the young maid had her hand inside her bloomers, frigging away. Even the cook, Hilda, an older woman often fucked by the butler now sat in her room using a kitchen utensil as a dildo, while imagining what M'lady was up to with the distinguished gentleman caller.

Only the coachman was completely out of earshot seeing to his own pleasure as he fucked the middle aged housekeeper Mary, in the carriage house, bending her over the step of the horse drawn carriage her outer clothing folded over her head, with the opening of her pantaloons spread wide. The divided leg of her bloomers designed to make defecating and urinating much easier was also convenient for ladies who liked to be fucked up the back passage: a preference for some and an old fashioned effective method of contraception. The coachman's cock pummelled her rectum so hard, that she was made to pant with delight and utter expletives.

It was surprising that the combined sexual activity didn't cause the foundations of the building itself to weaken.

At eleven thirty a man on a motor cycle delivered a message from Clara, requesting for the coachman to come out with the carriage and collect her from a friend's house in Knightsbridge. Wilson, having taken his pleasure arse-fucking the housekeeper set off as soon as he hitched up the horses, not even having had time to wash his shit and sperm soiled 'John Thomas'.

Though Clara thought of herself as a modern woman, she nevertheless still carried the aloofness and arrogance of the British aristocracy. From actively protesting in the streets of London carrying banners supporting Votes for Women, the girl brought up in a very privileged background quickly reverted back to norm, enjoying her family's wealth. Jumping into the rear of the coach when Wilson reached the pickup point, she opened the small flask put ready on the seat by Mary and poured herself a large gin.

'Drive through the park, Wilson,' Clara ordered, as she hitched up her skirt to remove her torn stockings. The coachman duly turned off Park Lane and headed into Hyde Park. Being late and dark it was probably the only vehicle cutting through the Royal park.

'Mother will give me long lecture if she sees me like this - have you brought the new stockings I asked for?

On receiving an affirmative answer Clara told the man to pass them to her.

'That would be a difficult and unsafe task while I'm driving ma'am, as I need to retrieve them from my bag, M'lady was hovering about so I had to hide them when Mary handed them over to me.

'Then stop in a convenient place, Wilson.'

The coachman pulled to a stop then leaning over to his bag and took out the stockings and turned to face Clara, ready to pass the garments. He was faced with the delightful sight of the 19yr old girls naked thighs, slightly parted. Unlike many folk who still wore long bloomers that were elasticated just above the knee, Clara favoured the much shorter new fashion with a loose leg that went by the popular name of French Knickers.

Wilson got an instant erection; for any man, seeing the naked flesh of the upper thighs of a woman who was not his wife or paid prostitute was almost unheard of for a man of his position in life. True, it was almost fashionable for upper class Gentlemen to keep a mistress, but that was a different world.

The phrase, 'almost unheard of', would be correct because the man servant was one of a few lucky enough to have seen Clara's thighs on other occasions.

Laid back in the plush rear seat of the luxury carriage, Clara made no attempt to stretch forward to take the small packet from Wilson's hand. Neither did she bother to cover her legs with her long gown, or to close her thighs, in fact, as Wilson sat half turned gazing at Clara's crotch, she slowly parted her knees a few inches more.

'I think you should bring them to me,' Clara said, in a tone that made it clear this was an order not a suggestion.

Wilson could just as easily have tossed the stockings the short distance - but he knew what the daughter of his Mistress really wanted. Moving at a dignified pace Wilson climbed down from the high seat and went to join Clara in the rear of the vehicle.

'I've been busy marching and protesting, waving banners, defying the police; it's all been very exciting and stimulating. And you know how that makes me feel, don't you Wilson?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Wilson replied.

'Then give me what I need! Get on the floor between my legs!'

Clara knew that any passing constable would not dare investigate what was going on in the back of a Coach late on a dark night. Interrupting a member of the aristocracy or a leading politician who was engaged in a lewd sexual act would definitely end the policeman's career. Ordinary folk did not own this type of carriage; out in the suburbs most people would never have even seen one unless they lived near a manor house or stately home.

Wilson, removing his hat and jacket knelt between the young woman's legs after she spread her thighs wide to accommodate him. Her French Knickers had a split crotch which she pulled apart showing the man her wet red cunt. As the man, old enough to be her father, began to lick and suck on her clitoris, then plunged his tongue as far as he could inside her vagina, the girl began to wriggle and moan, using language unbefitting for a female of her standing.

'Harder man! Fuck me with your tongue! Swallow my juices, you fucking peasant!'

Wilson had heard worse from this well brought up beauty. She lifted her knees high into the air, using her hands to support her folded legs, causing the cheeks of her backside to widen.

'Lick my arsehole!'

Wilson obeyed the order, feeling incredibly aroused, sneaking a hand down to unbutton his trousers and take out his cock for a secret wank.

'That feels nice Wilson, lick my pussy then my anus alternately! It feels exquisite - I'm afraid I may leak something into your mouth - from either orifice!'

Wilson didn't care.

For several minutes Clara enjoyed the attentions of the coachman until her passion began to reach the point of orgasm. She detected another movement that was not part of their sex act.

'Wilson, I know what you are doing - sit up and show me your donger - I want to see how big it is!'

Clara replaced the man's tongue with her fingers while he now sat beside her on the rear seat, still wanking his cock.

'What a dirty site!' the girl exclaimed, 'Let me suck it for you!'

Wilson became very aware of where his cock had been buried less than two hours ago. Before he was able to decide whether or not to discourage Clara from taking his phallus into her mouth the girl fastened her lips around it and sucked hard, pulling on his foreskin. Though it was too late he still thought it best to say something.

'Perhaps it's best that you refrain from doing that ma'am, I'm afraid my penis has been busy elsewhere tonight and is still soiled.'

Clara stopped sucking and took in a deep breath.

'I know' she hissed, 'I can tell from the taste and the odour. So filthy! I'm guessing you gave the young maid a good 'rogering' - am I right?'

Wilson didn't enlighten her, instead just uttered an almost inaudible grunt, which Clara took as a yes. He reasoned that the thought of his cock fucking the servant girl up her arse would be more palatable that her knowing it had been up the arse of the middle-aged housekeeper. Clara was quite happy to carry on sucking his knob whilst furiously wanking his foreskin up and down. It seemed she had no problem tasting and licking the shit from the penis of a man old enough to be her father. When Wilson felt his sperm about to explode he simply let it flow into Clara's mouth, a little surprised to see that she happily swallowed it all.

As they both sat up straight, Wilson noted the look of depravity on her face. She was confident he'd never tell a soul - both knew he'd never work again. All servants of the Thornton household knew of family secrets. Her father had long ago encouraged them to be very loyal and discreet by the incentive of paying wages that were more than generous, more than they'd get working for any other household. Of course, there were other perks too - Wilson had just enjoyed one of them.

When they finally arrived at the London House, Clara intended quietly sneaking up to her room, but her mother stood blocking the staircase. Clara was compelled to follow Lady Amelia into the drawing room. What followed was a long lecture about discipline and behaviour. Lady A purposely waited until the end before she revealed her plan.

'You have gone too far, Clara. Now you leave me no choice. Staying out late, joining the rabble in the streets. Why are so late home tonight? This is going to stop now! This display of outrage of course was completely hypocritical; like many families there was a face the public saw, which was completely different to what went on behind closed doors.

'Mother, the world has changed.'

'That may be the case, but you are still have a couple of years to go before you are considered an adult - until your twenty first birthday you will follow my rules. I have arranged for Peter to take over the responsibility for your discipline and should you step out line he will punish you accordingly.'

Clara laughed and shook her head.

'There is not a chance in Hell of me taking any nonsense from him! We have entered the twentieth century mother - I will not be treated in such a way.'

'See how rebellious you are. You will do as you're told. Otherwise I will stop your allowance. You will have no job and no money. And when I go back to Weston Manor, you will lose your home here in London. Perhaps you can find work as a servant!'

'You evil woman!' Clara shouted.

The bitter argument went on for another hour, Clara was losing ground; and then her mother unleashed her secret weapon.

Clara, making a final effort to win the day, made her final call, to no avail.

'I'm simply not agreeing to this quite unreasonable set of conditions.'

Her mother fired the final shot.

'I have given Sir Peter my full permission, that, if deemed necessary he will drag you upstairs to your room and with the help of Benson and the coachman, Wilson, they will strap you to the bed, lift up your gown and chastise your bottom!'

'What! You can't do that!

'Unless you think it best to pack your bags and leave this house then that's what will happen. Of course, the most sensible thing to do would be to follow Sir Peter upstairs to your room, bend over the bed, lift up your outer clothing and submit to a spanking. The choice is yours.

Clara was left speechless. She felt it wise not to argue further, gather her thoughts and let her nerves settle. If it came to the worst, she would wear her thickest, heaviest winter bloomers, maybe with extra concealed padding. The traumatised girl went up to her bedroom.

On the following morning, breakfast in the dining room was a sombre affair, with no conversation between the ladies of the house. Mid morning, Lady A gave the housekeeper instructions then dealt with her personal matters, concerning charitable events and coffee mornings. Clara stayed out of the way until lunch, after which she strolled in the garden then sat in the summer house. She was startled when a shadow suddenly appeared on the wall and the sun was blocked out. Looking up from her book she saw Sir Peter Walker.

'I never heard you arrive,' Clara said. 'Mother is in the drawing room.'

'I know,' Sir Peter told her. 'I came to confirm that I'll be visiting this evening - though the purpose of the visit will be to see you.'

Clara felt a shiver and tensed up.

'I have not yet agreed to go along with mother's demands.'

'Your agreement is not required. I had my doubts about taking on the task but I'm coming round to the idea.'

Clara stood up and walked toward the garden. Without warning and to her great surprise, she was pulled back when Sir Peter wrapped his arm around her waist.

'Get off; I'll report you for assault!' Clara screeched.

'Who too, my girl; are you going to call a constable of the law?'

'I might just do that!'

'I'm a Knight of the Realm - do you think they'll take your word over mine? And whose side do you think your mother will be on if a policeman comes knocking on the door?'

Peter held her tight and pulled her very close to his body.

'You'd better take into account the fact your mother has given me carte blanche permission to decide how you should be punished. Think of the all the possible ways I could do that!'

Clara, though greatly annoyed and struggling, felt something hard pressing against her which, together with Peter's forearm rubbing over her left breast, gave her a tingling feeling in her stomach. There was also something erotic in the way he whispered in her ear; and the sensation of his hot breathe on her neck.

'We will have our first session this evening; it will be very enjoyable, definitely for me, possibly for you also!'

When he spoke his lips almost touched her ear lobe, and then almost kissed the sensitive area of her neck just under her ear. Clara shivered not understanding why the feel of the much older man had gone from being repulsive to tantalizingly exciting. Maybe it was due to the mental picture created of his hand touching and spanking her bottom. Would he actually dare to lift her gown or had they said that to scare her?

She would find out in a few hours time.