LORD BRAMBLE'S REHABILITATION (9 page)

John considered a trifle longer while Isabel caught at her lower lip to pinch it between her teeth, her nervousness making her heart hammer. She almost sobbed when she saw it was to be her bed, John taking the pillows to create a bolster in the middle of the mattress over which she would no doubt be positioned, her bottom thrust up to take her sound spanking.

"What are you wearing beneath that?" John asked her, pointing to her dress.

"Just a camisole and knickers," she blushed, her heart hammering at the thought of soon having to bare her bottom, not only for his spanking hand, but to the eyes of the others. What if, under the harsh spanking, her legs crept open and she revealed her sex? She whimpered, her legs weakening at the thought of being on display.

"The dress can come off, her knickers lowered when she's in position," Debora nodded.

"You heard," John told her. "Take off your dress," he ordered.

Isabel whimpered, staggering forward slightly as she thought to drop down in front of him and beg for leniency. Would he not listen if he saw how earnest she was? Her breath caught as she recalled Lilly in exactly the same situation. Isabel had granted her nothing, and why should she? Any more than he should, or would.

They watched her pull her fashionable dress off, meekly stepping from it with a blazing face as she revealed herself in her fine silk underwear, edges trimmed with French lace, the colour designed to set off her pale skin. She sobbed under the feel of their eyes, growing breathless as those eyes stiffened her nipples to have them press into the thin fabric of her camisole, pinpointing their presence upon the small and firm cones of her breasts.

"Get into position," John told her, taking off his jacket and beginning to roll up his sleeve.

Her punishment was fast approaching and she actually welcomed the opportunity to lie down on her front, knowing it would hide most of her against the bed. She might be able to pretend it was only she and he in the room, the nurse and Sir Oswald not present to see her humiliation and pain. She groaned though, when she felt how high her bottom was raised, her thighs clenching with the agonising thought of them seeing her privates, her sex that, despite her terror, was moist and hot, at complete odds with the rest of her body.

"Debora," John called, finishing rolling up his sleeves.

The nurse climbed onto the bed and over Isabel's closely twined legs to reach to the waist of her pretty French knickers and begin drawing the material downward. She could have done it with one forceful tug, but the two men were watching and so she took her time, running her fingers under the material as if to ease it from the girl's skin, then to tug it slowly downward, an inch at a time. She pretended to have to labour over Isabel's bottom, though the girl's bum, nor the flare of her hips, were that large. The cheeks were nicely pert though, and a lovely pale pink. With the skill of a showman the nurse drew the fabric off the raised and poised hill of Isabel's bottom, smiling as she heard the girl groan, no doubt aware that the slowly lowering knickers might now reveal the tender skin bordering her pussy, might even show something of her tapering labia and the moisture always present near her vagina.

The knickers were drawn right down, and finally off. Debora waived them in the air like a prize, ignored by the two men whose whole attention was upon Isabel's raised bottom and clenched thighs, whose breathlessness could be heard, despite her head being pressed into the bed covers in an attempt to hide her raging face.

"Be good, Isabel. I'll not hesitate to use that belt if you give me cause," John told her, stepping to her side to place his left hand on the small of her back and the flat of his right hand on the pronounced cheek of her poised bottom.

The girl buried her head deeper into the covers and gasped on the delivery of the first slap, her eyes widening as, legs tightening together, she felt not pain, but a tingling shot of electricity that raced through her belly and centred on her groin.

A second landed, the same sharp flare of sensation ebbing into a background warmth that, with another slap of his hand, swelled slightly. It was all she could do not to rub her legs together or seek to extend the sensation by pressing her pubis into the firm bolster over which she lay.

Each slap made the girl gasp and jerk. Each slap brought an added intensity of colour to the crown of her small, pert buttocks. Shortly, the slaps made her squirm slightly and pant, the insidious warmth becoming an inescapable itching heat. His slaps were delivered to skin made tender by previous slaps and the bracing change entering her pelvis made her clench her buttocks and thighs and whimper as it carried the stinging sensation deep into her groin.

"She's feeling it now," Sir Oswald chuckled, well used to delivering the same sort of punishment, preferring a punishment that took a length of time rather than those where just five or six strokes were it, and then it was over.

She was indeed, beginning to cry out after each slap upon her raging bottom, the hand pressed to the small of her back stopping her from rolling off to the side as the raging sensations brought a fresh urge to squirm and toss. Her whole and now  raw bottom had become filled with unfathomable but overwhelming sensations.

Isabel began to kick and flay, losing control as another slap filled her with fresh heat and pain. Sir Oswald moved to peer between her legs and spy the pretty sex squeezed between her long slender legs, labia toned as richly as her burning bottom, short curls adoring their curved lips.

John was like an automaton, his attention locked on the raised bottom now blazing with colour, one hand keeping it from turning too far off to either side. He breathed in with the lifting of his other hand, and held his breath as he brought it down to land with a sharp slap upon her fiery skin. He then let his breath out while struggling to keep her still, her sharp cries and sobbing ignored.

"Five more," he told her, surveying her now brilliant little bottom as the all-consuming pain of fifteen repeated slaps upon the same small area of her skin provoked her to wail and squirm, no longer caring if her kicking legs exposed her privates, only wanting to get rid of the growing heat invading her middle, overwhelming her other senses.

He delivered the last five with a little more pressure of his hand, stirred by her flaying limbs and her strident cries. She wept between each stroke while breathlessly blubbering for him to be lenient and let her off the last few.

He stopped with two to go and waited for her struggling to ebb away before speaking. "Want me to let you off the rest?" he asked, conscious of Sir Oswald and Debora both moving forward, eyeing the naked half of the young woman still tossing over the pillows that raised her.

Engulfed in the insidious heat still swelling in her behind, Isabel softly wept while eagerly nodding.

"Will you do as you're told?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she promised, nodding her head vigorously.

"Debora," John called, releasing the sobbing girl.

Debora grinned and walked round to climb onto the bed once more, this time at Isabel's head. Grinning at the two men and having risen onto her knees, she gathered her uniform to her waist and let them look at her sex, laying naked from beneath her uniform, the curls cut right back so nothing about her plump labia or the half-open cleft was left obscured from their eyes.

Dropping her buttocks onto her heels and leaning back, Debora pulled on Isabel's hair, lifting her head to guide it between her outstretched thighs. "Come along now," she softly urged. "You know what you have to do," she urged, drawing herself forward so the softly weeping girl would have her face meet her humid and wanton crotch.

Debora tensed her legs, lifting her crotch into the sobbing girl's face to gasp with delight as Isabel responded and timidly licked her at her moist and sensitive gash. "That's it," she breathed, moving her pelvis in a matching rhythm with her tongue and mouth, raising it into the probing and licking, then away as the girl swallowed.

"Legs apart, Isabel," John urged, tapping the back of her thighs with his smarting hand.

The girl sobbed, Debora kneeling astride her face, guiding the girl's head by a hand in her hair, grinning down at her as she swivelled her crotch to have her tongue caress every part of her wet vaginal cleft.

Isabel knew she had no choice and hesitantly parted her legs, refusing to think of the two men standing at the foot of the bed, gazing along her pale inner thighs to feast their eyes on the delicacy of her sex.

"Good girl," Debora purred, looking at the men's expressions and knowing they could see what they wanted to see.

"Is she being good enough?" John asked. "Or should I motivate her a little further?" he wondered.

Debora grinned as his words made Isabel lick more fervently at her pussy, probing into her cunny with her moist tongue, then swirling the tip about her prepuce, probably activities she liked a maid to do to her, she reflected, spreading her thighs to allow the girl the freedom to mesh the lips of her mouth with the lips of her sex.

"Oh yes, she's doing very well," the nurse purred, her excitement rapidly rising.

"Sir Oswald? What do you think?" John asked.

"Very nice," the man agreed, staring at the delicacy of the girl's labia, the glow of her skin, the way her bunched up buttocks shone from Jon's repeated smacks.

"Finish it, Debora," John nodded.

The nurse swivelled her pelvis and pushed the young woman's head more firmly to her crotch. The girl understood what was wanted of her and licked with greater urgency, letting the nurse turn her crotch to where she wanted it. Licking away the sweet juices, driving her tongue into the tight little cunny, or lavishing the stubby prepuce with her saliva, she worked until the nurse's thighs tightened on either side of her face and a little spurt of moisture decorated her face, accompanied by the sharp and thrilling cry that told her the woman had spent.

The nurse drew away and the door opened and closed. A silence descended on the room and Isobel wiped her eyes and reached back to stroke her still burning bottom, her rubbing, clutching hands offering some relief, but never enough. She was oddly calm and lay for a while on her front, her legs still splayed apart, rubbing her smarting bottom and allowing a finger to touch a little lower occasionally.

What could she do, now that calling Lilly was not an option? She rose and stopped, a gasp escaping her as she saw that John was still in the room, sitting comfortably beside the fire and watching her.

She blushed and cast around for her knickers, her hands coyly held in front of her curly thatch of pubic hair.

"A bit late for that, don't you think?" he asked.

She licked her lips and tasted Debora's sweet excesses, then coyly drew her hand away and struggled to remain still as the man gazed at her.

"And your breasts?" he asked.

Isabel took a breath, her eyes growing distant as she remembered a passage in the book where Miss Harvey had been forced to strip in front of her captor and had strangely felt exciting in doing so, standing straighter as she showed herself off, feeling aroused by the hunger she saw in the man's eyes.

Isabel felt the same riot of emotions as she pulled her camisole off, then stood awkwardly in front of him, unsure what to do with her hands as his gaze settled on her small firm breasts for long moments. His eyes helped stiffen the tips, Isabel feeling the tension in her teats, a sensation that drifted down to her crotch, increasing the hot moisture she could feel gathering there.

"Does you bottom still hurt?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted, blushing as brightly as the cheeks burnt. It hurt, and yet it didn't. She craved to have a maid help he dispel the heat in her bottom and groin, blushing with the knowledge that it would take very long once started. There was a need within her.

John nodded. "Come closer. Let me see," he proposed.

Isabel lost her breath to the thought of doing as he asked, yet his eyes held a warning too and she knew that to disobey his command would be to put her onto the bed once again, her already sore bottom likely to feel the belt or the crop instead of his relatively soft hand. So she stole herself for the task ahead and crept forward to stand and turn in front of him, her hands in fists and her bottom lip caught between her teeth once more as she struggled to remain still and quiet.

The soft cares of his fingers made her jerk and their continued soft stroking of her tender cheeks made her pant in an effort to breathe enough, and still she felt light-headed and ready to collapse with breathlessness.

"You skin is very soft," he remarked.

"Part you legs," he instructed, his voice soft and yet commanding.

Isabel heard a roar in her ears as she meekly hung her head and obeyed. Fingers traced the short groove of her bottom, then drifted past the underside, a fresh touch on her inner thighs making her gasp and jerk, he pussy wetting itself in its desire to feel those fingers caress her intimate flesh.

"Moist?" he enquired.

"It's not my fault," she whimpered, denying the rising need that threatened to overwhelm her with its clamour for fulfilment.

"Let me see," he told her, and his fingers turned to her crotch, poised beneath her compact bottom, her labia ready to yield for him.

He touched her and Isabel sobbed and struggled to stay on her feet, new sensations ignited and spiralling into her body. His digits effortlessly drew her apart and her juices sprang forth to invite his fingers to delve deeper, to enter or rub, to squeeze or pull, to do anything he wished of them.