Back in Service (19 page)

‘Really?’ Hetty feigned surprise. ‘Then who makes use of it?’

She frowned slightly. ‘His lordship.’

‘But Sir Victor is confined to a wheelchair.’

‘That is true,’ she looked decidedly uncomfortable now, ‘but Nanny Baines wheels him over here sometimes. She asked me to clean and tidy the place, so I suppose he is planning another visit soon.’ She rose and smoothed down her apron. ‘I had better be about my duties now, Master George.’

Hetty knew she had inadvertently broken the seductive spell, and was moved to employ drastic measures to bring the girl back into her thrall. ‘No, my dear,’ she put both hands on Jane’s shoulders and gently pushed her back down onto the sofa, ‘please grant me a few more minutes of your time, I beg of you.’

Jane obeyed, but sat nervously on the edge of the cushion.

Hetty resumed her place beside her. ‘I have a confession to make,’ she said.

Fear and apprehension openly warred with hope and joy on Jane’s face.

‘My dear Jane, I have heard such good reports of you from my sister. Not that I needed any, for I can see with my own eyes what a charming and delightful creature you are. Please, do not look away. Shine that bright blue light from your eyes upon me so you may see into my soul and I may see into yours through those clear windows.’ Hetty knew she was laying it on with a trowel, but Jane, unsophisticated in the ways of the world, was vulnerable to the romantic approach. Pressing home her advantage, she lifted the girl’s hand to her lips, and kissed it fervently.

‘Oh George,’ Jane breathed. ‘I had no idea…’

‘You are a dear, innocent child and I long to reveal to you the secret treasures of love, Jane.’

‘Oh! But we are all alone and—’

‘Yes, we are alone in this secluded bower with the delights of nature all around us. And love is also natural, is it not? Every swan must seek its mate, every fox must find its fate.’

‘How charming!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘Who wrote those lovely lines of poetry?’

‘I did,’ Hetty said modestly.

‘You are yourself a poet?’ she gasped, enraptured. ‘How marvellous!’

‘Yes, and I should love to compose a poem to you, dear Jane. But alas, I cannot.’

Looking both intrigued and disappointed, she asked, ‘Why not, George?’

‘Because I have so little to base it upon.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have lain awake at night thinking about your face and your figure, but all I have to inspire me is your outward appearance and the impression I have gained from your sweet voice. I know you so little, Jane, yet I feel we are already soul mates. I am sure I could write you consummate love poetry if only…’

‘What more do you need?’ she asked softly.

‘A kiss, dear girl, just one kiss will feed my poetic imagination, I am sure. If you could show me some mercy, and for the sake of my art be my muse and allow your sweet lips to meet mine…’

‘Yes,’ she whispered passionately. ‘Willingly, sir…’ She practically threw herself into his arms and a passionate kiss ensued.

‘Mm… lips that look like cherries and taste like honey,’ Hetty whispered, nibbling Jane’s earlobe. ‘A bosom that smells of flowers and brings to mind a bee’s suckling… to suckle like a hungry bee upon her blooming breast…’

Jane moaned softly as Hetty’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, but she made no attempt to stop her. Soon her left breast was exposed, the pink nipple already swollen into ripeness, and Hetty took it slowly into her mouth. Jane moaned louder, her thighs shifting restlessly beneath her skirt, and while she licked and suckled Hetty caressed her hip and the side of her bottom.

‘Oh George,’ Jane sighed, ‘no man has ever done this to me before. I had no idea it could be so… so wonderful to feel like this…’

Hetty’s lust was growing, and encouraged by Jane’s lack of resistance, she soon had both the girl’s breasts to play with. Her hands and lips teased the stiff nipples in turn, eliciting more erotic noises from Jane, which gave her the impression she could take things even further. The lovely virgin was clearly in a state of deep longing for physical pleasure, but there was no telling how far she would permit George to go on this first encounter.

A few more deep kisses and Jane permitted Hetty’s wandering hands to slip beneath her petticoat and caress the sleek silk of her naked thighs. Boldly, she let her hands brush against the girl’s warm mound, feeling the dampness dewing the fleshy pouch of her vulva. She pressed her palm against it more firmly and detected the distinct little button of her clitoris, which must by now be throbbing with unfulfilled desire. There was a corresponding pulse between Hetty’s own thighs, a crying need she longed to sate with some mutual sex play, but she judged it to be too soon. Reluctantly she withdrew her hand, as though George had suddenly become aware of what he was doing. She wanted to remain on good terms with Jane. If she went too far on this first occasion, she feared there would never be another opportunity for such pleasure.

‘Oh my dear Jane, whatever must you think of me?’ she said, hastily readjusting the girl’s skirt and then quickly buttoning her blouse. ‘I am so sorry. Please, forgive me, my dear, for taking such liberties.’

‘Oh no, George,’ she looked dazed, ‘do not feel—’

‘But I
do
feel, Jane. I have such very strong feelings for you, my dearest girl. It is only natural I should wish to express them, yet I have taken advantage of your innocence. I am a very wicked man and should be severely punished for my improper behaviour. To force myself upon you when you were alone and defenceless… I have dishonoured your purity and for that I should be physically chastised.’ She leapt up from the sofa and looked around the room in a feverish state, pretending to be searching for something as she deliberately approached the cupboard.

‘What is it?’ Jane asked, bewildered. ‘What are you looking for, George?’

‘Something for you to punish me with.’ She flung open the cupboard doors with a dramatic gesture, revealing the assorted whips and rods within. ‘Ah… this must be where the riding equipment is kept. Just the job. You shall teach me a lesson I will not forget, Jane. Now, which would be the most efficacious implement, do you think?’

Jane hurried to his side, and put her hand on his arm. ‘No, George, it is not
you
who should be punished, it is I.
I
am the one who has led you astray. I made no attempt to stop you, but only encouraged you. I am a shameless hussy and must be severely whipped.’

‘
You?
No, my dear, never.’

To Hetty’s amazement, Jane then reached into the cupboard and brought out a short-handled whip. ‘This, George, use
this
to scourge me and I shall thank you for it. I am the one who needs to learn a lesson. I was taught men cannot rule their own appetites where women are concerned, so it is up to us women to control them,’ she explained fervently. ‘I truly believe that, and I have failed us both this afternoon. Punish me severely, please George, do not spare me.’

‘But this seems so harsh, Jane. Have you ever been physically chastised before? Do you fully understand what you are asking me to do?’

Jane led Hetty back to the sofa. ‘Yes, George, I have been whipped before, by Sir Victor, and for no real fault of my own, so I detested the humiliation and the unjustness of it. But with you it will be different. I will know I fully deserve my punishment and that you are delivering it justly.’

‘You really mean it, Jane? You really wish to make amends for leading me astray?’

‘Oh yes,’ she responded fervently, her eyes wide with adoration. ‘I shall lie facedown upon this sofa and you may whip me three times.’ She handed him the whip. ‘I think that would be fair.’

‘Very well, if that is really what you wish me to do, my dear.’

‘It is, and I shall sincerely thank you for it afterwards, sir.’

Hetty decided she had played her reluctance to the hilt. She put down the whip so she could slip off her jacket and roll up her shirtsleeves, praying her bound breasts would not be too visible beneath the fine white material. Jane hardly looked at her, however, as she hitched up her skirt and removed her bloomers before lying facedown across the couch. Her pulse racing, Hetty lifted the whip over the proffered buttocks.

‘Do not spare me,’ Jane murmured, her face buried in a cushion. ‘Three good strokes, please, sir.’

The first stinging lash bit into the smooth rotundity of her bottom, making it quiver and leaving a red imprint. She let out a cry of agony and wriggled her hips furiously, pressing her mound hard against the plush sofa.

Hetty knew from her own experience that she was probably deriving a keen satisfaction from the rough pressure of the cushion, the sensitive little bud between her sex lips still hot and swollen from their foreplay.

She delivered a second blow, and this time her victim’s cry was low and throaty, possessing a very obvious sensual note. She rubbed herself against the sofa as if trying to assuage her pain, and Hetty’s desire to resume their erotic play was almost overwhelming. How hard it must be for a man to contain his urges, she thought wryly, especially when the woman of his desire was behaving like a cat in heat.

She obeyed Jane’s wishes and gave her a severe final lash that elicited a shriek of misery from her followed by more frantic writhing. Then, throwing the whip down, she sat beside her on the couch and pressed her face against her red and overheated bottom cheeks, inhaling the intoxicatingly musky scent of her arousal. ‘Please forgive me, Jane,’ she muttered hoarsely. ‘I have hurt you terribly.’

‘Yes, but it was well deserved, sir. Do not reproach yourself.’

‘When I was a boy if I fell and hurt myself my mother would always kiss it to make it better. May I do the same with you?’

‘Of course, sir…’

Hetty pressed her lips to the taut flesh of her buttocks, softly kissing and licking them while Jane’s hips worked subtly to press her mons against the couch in a correspondingly rhythmic fashion. She was apparently pleasuring herself, and the thought brought Hetty’s own need into sharper focus. As her lips travelled softly over the delicious bottom, her hand crept to her fly and began rubbing her sex through the man’s trousers, feeling her clitoris responding eagerly to the friction of the rough tweed…

Suddenly the door of the summerhouse rattled imperiously. ‘Are you in there, Jane?’ Nanny Baines demanded impatiently. ‘Cook told me you had been sent here on my orders, but as you well know, I gave no such instructions and you are needed at the house.’

Finding it unlocked, Baines flung the door open and stood on the threshold staring aghast at the scene before her. Hetty received a fleeting impression of wide eyes and an open mouth – the perfect music hall caricature of a dumbfounded woman – before she collected her scattered wits and pulled down Jane’s skirt as she rose hastily from the sofa.

‘Depravity and debauchery!’ came the booming accusation from Nanny Baines’s powerful lungs. ‘Shame on the pair of you! How dare you make use of Sir Victor’s private summerhouse for your obscene antics? And who are you, sir, if I may ask?’ Her large bosom heaved with indignation. ‘My master shall know of this right away. Come back to the house with me directly.’

‘It is not what it seems, Mrs Baines.’ Hetty was terrified, but as George she felt obliged to put on a show of defiance. ‘My name is George and Hetty is my sister. I am here visiting her and Leo, and whilst out for a walk in the grounds, I heard Miss Jane’s cry as she tripped and fell while she was cleaning. I ran in to help, and was just administering some first aid.’

But the nurse’s eagle eye had spotted the abandoned whip on the floor. She glanced around the room, and saw that the cupboard door was ajar. ‘Any wounds she might be suffering are more likely to have been deliberately inflicted,’ she commented dryly. ‘Lift up your skirt and petticoat, Jane, I wish to inspect your posterior.’

Hetty tried to intervene, but she was pushed roughly aside and Baines did not wait for Jane to comply with her order; she simply tugged the girl’s skirt and petticoat up herself. The fresh welts were still clearly visible and she emitted a ‘Hah!’ of satisfaction as her suspicions were confirmed.

‘What occurred between Miss Jane and myself in this place is a private matter,’ George said coldly, and knew instantly her words had been a mistake.

‘On the contrary,’ Baines pointed the tip of the whip at her in a threatening manner, ‘you are a guest in this house, Master George, and Jane is a servant. You have both abused Sir Victor’s generous hospitality, and you will pay for it dearly. Make yourself decent, girl, if that is at all possible, and then you shall both come with me to see Sir Victor. It grieves me to vex him with such matters when he is an invalid, but he must know what disgraceful conduct the pair of you are guilty of under his roof.’

Hetty knew if she wished to extricate herself from the situation, she could do so easily. She only had to run back to the house, change back into her own clothes, and then report her brother had suddenly departed Longton on urgent family business. However, she could not let Jane down. She had got her into this mess and she would stand by her whatever the cost.

So resignedly she followed Nanny Baines through the summerhouse door, and managed an encouraging wink at Jane.