Early, at dawn, one chilly autumn morning, a car drove up to the kitchen entrance of the Manor. Two men jumped out and unloaded a crate from the back. They were strong men and the small crate didn't seem to bother them too much. They went back to the car and drove away. They never rang the doorbell.
'My Lord.'
'Yes, Pearson.'
The Lord was sitting at his table, being served his breakfast. He was a man in his late fifties, grey whiskers and broad face. He was impeccably dressed in grey tweed.
The Butler bowed his head.
'My Lord, there is a crate down at the entrance for you. I believe it is sent by Lord F.'
'Oh, that was quick. Have you brought it in?'
'Yes, of course, My Lord. It is in the kitchen.'
'I'll come down, immediately and we will open it.'
Pearson had a hard time keeping up with the Lord as he rushed down the stairs to the kitchen.
'Well, Pearson, open it, what are you waiting for?'
'Baines!' the Butler called and one of the footmen approached the crate with a crowbar in his hand. He forcefully opened it, removed the lid, and stepped back.
The Lord looked down into the crate and Pearson and the other staff craned their necks to get a glimpse of what it contained.
'It is a very small space,' the Lord said, 'I wonder how she fits in there.'
He was looking down at the bare skin of the back of the inhabitant of the crate. She was leaning forward, crammed into the minute space.
'Pearson, get her out of there, feed her, and clean her, or whatever is appropriate, and then bring her to me. I'll be in the Library. I won her on cards, the other day.'
The Lord went and Pearson and the footman reached down and lifted the girl from the crate. The crate was small so it took some effort to extract her from it.
When the ropes were removed from her body, she could stand up. She was naked. Pearson handed her over to the maids who cleaned her thoroughly. She was then fed in the kitchen, before she was placed across the main table, and Pearson delivered the appropriate dozen of stripes with his cane.
'My Lord, your gift is prepared.'
The Lord was in the Library. With him, dusting his books, was a maid, who had the good sense of moving within his sight, turning her back to him, and thus, giving him opportunity to rest his eyes on the parts of her that weren't covered by her apron, the only item of clothing she was wearing.
'Bring her in, Pearson.'
The naked girl was ushered into the room and stood before the Lord. She was fairly blond, quite delicate in her frame, a young woman.
'She is pretty,' the Lord said. 'Was there a note?'
'No, My Lord, nothing, except for a slip that says she was delivered from Lord F.'
'Very good.'
The Lord regarded the young woman. He let his gaze wander up and down her body, let it linger on her breasts, stayed for a while on her belly, slid down between her legs and followed the thighs and the calves down to her feet, only to return to her face, with its short nose and soft lips.
'Turn her around, Pearson.'
The Butler snapped his fingers and made a movement with his hands and the girl turned around.
'Nice bottom, don't you reckon, Pearson?'
'A very fine specimen, My Lord.'
'Are the stripes yours, Pearson?'
'Yes, My Lord, I thought it appropriate to get her acquainted with the ways of the Manor.'
'Very good, you are a Master with the cane.'
'Thank you, My Lord.'
'Pearson, I want to have her bring my elevenses.'
'My Lord, how shall I have her dress?'
'Nothing, I want her in the buff. Perhaps something to adorn her, something nice, but nothing that covers.'
'Very well, My Lord.'
Later the young woman returned, carrying a tray with the Lord's tea and scones and some toast and other nice snacks he enjoyed. She was dressed in nothing but a golden necklace, some discreet bangles and a golden chain around her hips, like a girdle, nothing that covered her body at all.
5 comments:
Dear Janice:
Another good exciting story. This one it's not told from the point of view of the slave girl, as other's, but from the observer's point of view. I like the way you treat the slave girl, all the humiliation permanently present. We never know what her name is, or what she feels, or what she thinks: we only know that she is beautiful, is the only important thig, as she is a pet, something to please and serve, something that we use, according to our caprices. She was dellivered to her new master as a thing, inside a bag, inspected as an horse, caned, te remember her what her condition is, and made to serve, almost naked, because she is there to please. I also enjoyed the outfit: i always imagine a beautiful slave girl or woman, with a chain around her hips, i would include a collar, with her owner identification, bur that's a detail. Your story is good, thank you.
L.
A favourite fantasy, and all the better for being sparsely told – it’s the lack of drama that makes your stories so much more dramatic than those of most others who explore similar themes. Thank you, Janice.
Hugs,
Michael
Janice, a nice story, nicely told.
I like the touch with the crate, and the caning was the final rounding detail.
I deleted my first comment because of a typo.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
Dearest Janice ~ again, perfectly written and also beautiful. I like it, too, very much. Always!
Dear L, thank you for your words. I wanted to make it very impersonal, that she is, really, an object, and place her in a silly and, perhaps, comical (or at least amusing) context.
Dear Michael, I am chuffed it was a favourite of yours and that you liked it. Less is more, as they say, and sometimes I believe them.
Dear Paul, I am glad you liked it. It was fun to write.
Dear Lea, great, thank you for your words.
Hugs
Janice
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