TRIO. PART ONE
Mistress Agnes's Tale.
I knew as soon as I came in from work that something was up. I could almost smell the sense of guilt and shame that wafted from the kitchen along with that of garlic and herbs. I sighed and thought, "what has she done this time?" She had been acting a little strangely for a couple of days and I could feel an impending confession coming at some point.
She must have heard the door closing as I heard a gasp and an urgent, "Mistress?" come from the kitchen. I didn't reply but looked around the room. It was stiflingly hot as there was an unseasonal and totally unnecessary log fire burning in the grate. My armchair had been pulled close to it and my favourite slightly battered and worn moccasin slippers had been placed in front. Sheri burst into the room drying her hands on a towel which she tossed behind her. She was naked except for a short white apron which just about protected her small breasts. She immediately knelt at my feet. Now I knew that something was wrong. We usually dispense with formalities like that except when we are having a session so to see it in front of me and unasked for meant there was some reason for it.
"Mistress, welcome home. I hope you had a good day at work."
I remained silent as I unbuttoned my jacket and she stood and fussed around me helping me to take it off. I began to relax after a hard day's work. I walked over to my chair and pointedly dragged it back away from the fire before sitting down and leaning back. She immediately fell to her knees again and untied my shoes before gently taking them off. She gave each foot a kiss before pulling my slippers on.
"Why have you lit the fire? It's not needed and it's a complete waste of logs."
"I ...err ... thought it made the room more ... homely and welcoming."
"It also makes it unbearably hot," I said with a certain amount of venom in my voice.
"I'm sorry Mistress, I thought it made the room nice for you."
I could take no more of her silliness. "Right, you silly girl what have you done this time. I can read your guilt like a book."
"Mistress, I'm really sorry it was an accident, I promise. I didn't mean anyone to see."
Suddenly I was both puzzled and intrigued. "See what, girl? Who and what and when? And don't lie to me."
Her eyes went to the floor and her voice became a whisper. "It was last Monday, Mistress. At work. I was trying to work but I couldn't sit comfortably. You had flogged me the night before and I was still raw."
I smiled to myself. I remembered it well. She had burnt the main course and then served lumpy custard with an apple pie that was almost too tart to eat. It was one of her little tricks. I knew what she was up to, deliberately doing something naughty just so I would punish her, and I sometimes indulged her. So, I had flogged her, possibly a little more harshly but I felt she deserved it. The fact that she couldn't sit down properly afterwards is neither here nor there.
"You deserved that, and you know it. So, what happened?"
"I'd taken some of your special salve in to work with me. I knew you wouldn't mind. Half way through the morning I went to the Ladies and put some on which helped a little. I was almost finished, just rubbing the last little bit in. I never heard the door open. First thing I knew was a "oh my god what happened to you?" It was Marie who sits at the next desk to me."
"She caught you with your panties down?" I said mockingly.
"I pulled them up and pulled my skirt back down straight away, Mistress."
"You didn't even have the sense to go into a stall and close the door. It sounds to me as though you were deliberately trying to be seen. What did you tell her?"
"Nothing much, I just ran past her out of there. But she kept giving me looks all morning so at lunchtime I had to tell her the truth."
"You stupid girl how many times have I told you to keep quiet. Other people have strange ideas about our activities."
"Honestly, Mistress, she seemed ok with it once I'd explained everything."
"I think you might be going in with another sore bottom this Monday as well. How could you be so thoughtless. Now, serve dinner. We'll speak of this later."
And she stumbled to her feet and went off, shamefacedly, to the kitchen. The meal, when it came, was much better than that which had started this whole sorry episode, but I knew I had to be firm with her. That night she slept on the floor at the foot of the bed and most of the next day she was kept busy about the house while I sat in the sunshine reading a book and dozing. For dinner I ordered pizza from the local takeaway and made her eat it kneeling on the floor instead of sat at the table. After dinner I stood up and told her to follow me and led her into the dungeon.
To be fair it is a dungeon in name only as we have no cellar at this house. It is simply one of the downstairs rooms converted. I have various items and pieces of equipment in there. An old vaulting horse I'd bought at an auction when a local private school closed down. A high-backed chair that has a seat that could be split to form a V. Against one wall was a St. Andrew's cross and I decided to use that tonight. I simply pointed at it and she walked over and stood against it, face to the wall, lifting her arms and spreading her legs. No words were needed, it was a time-honoured ritual. I strapped her to it with wide leather cuffs and walked over to my toy cupboard. I selected a couple of floggers from my collection and walked back to her. There were still a few faded marks left over from last weekend but mostly she had healed well. Such is the value of youthful skin.
Finally, I broke the silence, "You know I have to do this and why, don't you."
"Yes, Mistress, I was very stupid." Her voice trembled, and a quiver went up her thigh and across her left buttock.
"Stupid, indiscrete, and a blatant display of exhibitionism. And you endangered the life we have. There are probably more but those four will do for now. I think six for each will be about right. That's twenty-four in total. You know the routine by now, count each stroke and thank me for each."
She mumbled something which I took to be a 'yes', so I laid one of the floggers down and hefted the other in my hand. Then I started the process and I didn't hold back. Last weekend I'd given her twenty and been fairly mild with her but today I was annoyed. She needed to know that. By number eight I could hear the sob in her voice as she struggled to maintain the count. I ignored that and carried on. When I reached fifteen I stopped briefly. I needed a change of scene. I unclipped her ankles and then her wrists. She could barely stand up but managed to turn around and found the strength to lift her arms allowing me to strap her back in. She seemed grateful for the support the cuffs gave her. I pulled each leg to the side and fastened her ankles again. She winced as her bottom came in contact with the wooden cross. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks tear-streaked.
"What number are we on, girl?" I asked her.