It is an hour past sunset and the only lights visible down the dark corridor are the dim sconces mounted on the walls. They are spaced far enough apart to leave one nearly in the dark in the areas between. And if that person dares walking to the end of the corridor, then it might be possible to hear strange sounds coming from behind the ancient, heavy oaken door at the very end room. If one opens the door, carefully so as not disturb the activity responsible for the sounds, then the action becomes quite clear.
One familiar with the activity certainly recognizes the unmistakable sound of a leather flogger strking human flesh, and hears it now with sickening regularity. Each stroke is followed immediately by the muffled moans of a suffering human being. The sound is so muted as to make the gender of the person receiving the punishment unclear. But if the intruder dares to step into the room and, becomes as inconspicuous as possible, then he, or she, sees the grotesque activitybeing conducted.
The woman, for it is indeed a woman receiving the punishment, is in a most irregular position. She is strung spread-eagled, her arms pulled upward by chains attached to a riser bar overhead, and ankle chains attached to the legs of a padded sawhorse below keep her legs ask. The sawhorse serves a dual purpose, for it is positioned not directly below the spreader bar, but a foot or so behind the vertical in a way that pulls the arms of the unfortunate woman forward thus causing her ass to protrude in a manner that makes beating it easier. For a beating is what is taking place. And it is no pleasant sight, unless one relishes such events, for the ass is by now quite red—visible because it is completely bare. The woman however, is not nude. A black leather corset encircles her waist, but is so short that her breasts are as bare as her ass. They hang rather pendulously, for they are massive and they bounce strictly with each stroke of the flogger. Small bells attached to the nipple clamps that are in turn fastened to the profiles at the tips of her breasts ring with each bounce. Her shoulders and arms are as bare, but her legs are encased in black stockings that reach from her high-heels to slightly beyond mid thigh.
The man delivering the blows is dressed in black, but not the leather of a dominator as one might suspect, but in formal butler attire. He has removed his swallow-tailed coat so as to make swinging the heavy flogger easier.
As he draws the implement back for yet another blow, a jangling sound interrupts. He arrests his swing in mid arc and places the implementation across the padded sawhorse, pulls his waistcoat snuggly down to achieve a proper carriage and, after clearing his throat, lifts the telephone receiver from its cradle.
“Hillshire residence.” He says into the mouthpiece, in proper English diction.
After a moment’s delay, he says, “I shall see if madam is available.”
Covering the mouthpiece wit his white-gloved hand, he addresses the spread-eagled woman. “It is your category, madam. He wishes a consultation regarding the seating arrangement for Saturday’s banquet. Do you wish to speak to him?”
The woman makes her wishes known by nodding her head, for a red ball-gag is lodged in her mouth.
“One moment please.” He says into the telephone, and gently lays it down on the table. He releases the catch on the back of the ball-gag and removes the ball from her mouth, then pulls a silk kerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from her mouth and chin. Next, he releases the chains to the cuffs holding her in the awkward position, allowing her to straighten as he hands the receiver to her.
The butler steps back a proper distance to give the appearance of not listening to the conversation, then returns at its conclusion. After placing the phone in its cradle, he addresses his employer.
“Will that all madam?”
“No Jeeves, I think I would like another five.”
“Very well, madam.” And he reattaches the arm restraints, replaces the ball-gag before straightening his waistcoat and raising the flogger. It comes down with a swish through the air and thud as it reaches its target. A moan follows.
“One.” He mutters, more to himself than his employer.
“Two.” He intones, as the flogger makes her ass quake.
Slowly. “Three…Four…Five, and his duty for this session is done.”
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