Taming Maria

TAMING MARIA

by

RHEA SILVA

Published by
Chimera Books

ISBN
9781780804606

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

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This work is
sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and
without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this
work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all
characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no
relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright Rhea Silva. The right of Rhea
Silva to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in
accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and
Patents Act 1988.

This novel is fiction - in real life
practice safe sex.

There was
silence throughout the assembly hall, apart from the whack of cane
meeting bare flesh and the groans of the girl being chastised that
echoed under the high, fan-vaulted ceiling.

She lay face
down across a narrow table placed on a low platform at the far end.
This was usually reserved for announcements or awards, for morning
roll-call or evening prayers. Now the victim's hair streamed over
one side of the bare board, her exposed buttocks raised on the
other, legs astraddle. She was of ample proportions, her flesh
white and soft, with big breasts and broad hips. Her buttocks bore
livid stripes laid on by an expert, placed precisely, no one stroke
crossing another. A pair of muscular women stood guard, ready to
pounce should she attempt to escape.

The cane was
wielded by a slim, middle-aged lady dressed entirely in black.
There was an aura of power about her that no one dared gainsay. Her
hair was drawn back into a severe bun, concealed by a white linen
cap. Still handsome, her features were set in harsh lines, her eyes
snapping as she stared at her prisoner's naked posterior and the
split fig of her sex jutting below, barely covered by a slight
coating of floss.

'Ow! Oh!' the
girl cried. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Rossiter. I won't do it again. I
promise!'

'Indeed you
won't, Lady Cynthia!' The cane rose and fell, leaving a further
trail of scarlet marks. 'Playing with yourself after lights out!
It's disgusting! I won't have such behaviour at my school. It is my
bounden duty to turn my charges into gentlewomen who will be
suitable brides for noblemen. Stop making so much noise. Where is
your dignity?'

A further blow
was too much for Cynthia's control. Her bladder failed her and
urine trickled between her thighs, wetting her bunched up skirt and
the floor beneath. This was not the first time the spectators had
witnessed such a humiliating scene, and one of them in particular
was fascinated by it, a dark skein of arousal stirring in her
loins.

'She couldn't
hold her water, Jane,' she whispered to her companion, her green
eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed and her body thrumming with
excitement.

'Oh, Maria!
The poor thing,' murmured her friend, a slight girl who did not
possess the other's long limbs or full breasts. She was a blue-eyed
blonde, whereas Maria had fiery chestnut hair and a temperament to
match.

Maria was
experiencing the thrill that always shot through her when
punishment was being inflicted on fellow pupils. She was not the
only one, it seemed. She glanced across to where Mr Robin Claremont
sat. He was a young clergyman employed to give religious
instruction. The girls giggled about him, starved of male company
except for the servants, groundsmen and gardeners, and these were
definitely out of bounds, the class system a rigid one. Now his
face was red, the skin shiny with sweat, and Maria noticed that he
sat with his legs crossed, his hand resting in his lap. Concealing
what? she wondered.

She knew
nothing about men and had never seen one naked. She had examined
the Greek statues that stood in alcoves in her aunt's London
residence, but although perfect examples of the male physique,
their appendage were no bigger than a little finger. Sexual matters
were never discussed by her tutors. Girls were supposed to go to
the marriage bed innocent virgins with no idea of what lay in
store. Maria burned to find out about it and discussed the matter
at great length with Jane.

She had
managed to keep out of trouble during the five years spent at The
Lakeside Academy for Young Ladies, situated in Surrey. This may
have been due to her own cleverness or the fact that she was so
well connected, but lately she had begun to daydream about having
the headmistress, Mrs Rossiter, take the rod to her backside. This
positive woman was feared yet adored by the majority of girls,
including Maria. Masturbation fantasies featuring her filled
Maria's mind when she fondled her nipples and rubbed her clitoris,
bringing herself off.

And Mrs
Rossiter had just said that this was a forbidden occupation. Well,
Maria decided, as Cynthia continued to writhe on the table, every
girl here would have to be flogged if that were truly the case. We
are all at it when the chance arises, either alone or with a
friend. Jane and I have often pleasured one another thus.

Thinking about
it made her even hotter, her sex clenching at every blow that
landed on Cynthia's plump, quivering posterior. Maria could feel
juice seeping from her secret place, wetting the inside of her
thighs and she longed to touch the slippery little pearl swelling
between her lower lips, demanding that she massage it.

How would it
be to have Mrs Rossiter do it for her? It would be worth the kiss
of the rod if she would only slip a hand round Maria's mound, find
her crack and fondle her nubbin. And what of Robin Claremont? He
was a churchman, but they were not forbidden to marry. Maybe he
would know all about her cunt. She yearned to give him the chance
to prove it.

At last,
Cynthia was released, almost falling as she adjusted her skirt and
covered her bruised hindquarters. No one was permitted to speak
with her, and the rest of the pupils trailed out, very subdued as
they returned to their classrooms, with the exception of Maria who
strode along rebelliously. She was constantly being lectured about
walking with a boy's gait instead of moving gracefully like a
genteel young lady.

The school,
once a private residence set amidst rolling parklands, had become
her home, and she spent eleven months of the year there, only
visiting her aunt, Lady Arabella, at Christmas. On these occasions
she had always been left in the care of a governess, her aunt too
busy to bother with her. She was one of the leading lights of the
ton - the flippant, frivolous members of smart society.

Maria could
clearly remember her life as it once was, the only child of Sir
Piers Granger of Burrington Manor. She had been his darling, her
mother dying when she was born, and he had brought her up to ride
like a man, shoot and hunt like a man and hold her own in any
argument, be it physical or verbal. Her life had changed radically
when he died as the result of a fall from his horse. The manor was
closed, save for a skeleton staff, until she came of age, and she
found herself in the care of Arabella, her mother's sister. This
lady was young and married to an elderly nobleman and did not want
to be burdened with an orphan, so had bundled her off to the
Lakeside Academy.

There Jane
Dunn had become her close friend and confidante and now, lessons
over, they walked hand-in-hand. Maria wanted so much to take her to
bed and there bring her to bliss, caressing her pert breasts and
flawless body, and the delicate little fork that concealed the seat
of pleasure, and have her do the same in return. They wandered into
the garden. Spring was in the air, buds bursting and the birds
engaged in frenetic activity, nesting and mating. It inspired a
deep hunger in Maria, for what she did not know, only aware of an
emptiness within her that cried out to be filled.

'I'm so glad
we are leaving school at the same time,' Jane said, finding a stone
bench and sitting on it, watching the play of sunlight over the
lily-pond. Even the frogs were amorous, white spawn spreading like
delicate lace over the surface.

'Not long now.
Thank Heavens! I can't wait.'

'Neither can
I, though Papa has arranged for me to wed the odious Right
Honourable Percy Tate, a man I simple can't abide.'

'It's not
fair! We are treated like chattels to be bought and sold on the
marriage market, our wishes of scant concern.' Maria was voicing a
grievance months old. She knew this was to be her fate, too, if her
aunt decreed it. 'I've a mind to run away.'

Jane's eyes
became wider. 'You wouldn't dare, would you? Where would you go?
What would you do?'

Maria
shrugged. She had not really thought this through. 'I don't know.
Make my way to Burrington Manor, find one of the villagers to take
me in, get a passage on a packet-boat going abroad, maybe dress in
breeches and sign on as a cabin-boy.'

'You couldn't
go to France, not with the war and all.' Jane sounded intrigued,
but Maria's spirits dropped, recognising that such ambitions were
unlikely to come to fruition.

She would need
money to break away, and her aunt and Viscount Damien Strafford,
that mysterious guardian appointed by her father, had full
administration of her estates until she reached twenty-one. She
often wondered about this man, having never met him. He spent most
of his time overseas and her aunt was not very forthcoming, hinting
vaguely that he was a busy person, far too important to pay much
heed to his ward. Maria knew little about him, and assumed that he
was a contemporary of her father's.

'You'll have
to obey your aunt and reside in London, won't you?' Jane asked and
clung to her. 'Oh, my dear friend, what shall I do without you?
Bath is so far away and our country house even further.'

'You will come
and stay with me.' Maria hugged her close. 'I shall write to you
and ask my aunt if you can visit or perhaps your parents will
invite me to the West Country.'

'And if they
make me marry Piers, will you come to my wedding?' Jane was close
to tears.

'Of course,
and if it happens before I'm a bride, then you must tell me all
about your wedding-night.'

'Will it be
like the mating of animals, do you think? I've seen my mother's pet
bitch being covered by a dog. How horrid!' A shudder shook Jane's
slim form and Maria tightened an arm about her.

This part of
the garden was secluded. No one would interrupt them and she undid
the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons that fastened the front of Jane's
high-waisted bodice, slipped a hand inside her chemise and started
to caress the small nipples that hardened at her touch. At the same
time she dropped her other hand to Jane's knee and slid her skirt
up, higher and higher until she reached the crisp curls that coated
her friend's pubis. Jane sighed and parted her legs a little so
that Maria might slip a finger into her cleft. It felt so soft and
slippery and she breathed in its oceanic scent. She wanted to taste
it, and lowered her head while Jane spread herself on the bench,
sliding down on her spine, making herself available for Maria's
mouth.

Lost in
pleasure, Maria was about to suck Jane's swollen organ to
completion when she stopped abruptly, aware of a sound close
by.

'What's that?'
Jane whispered, sitting up sharply and buttoning her bodice; skirts
once more demurely in place around her ankles.

Maria put a
finger to her lips and they tiptoed in the direction of the noise.
It was hardly anything, a rustle of clothing, a stifled groan.
Bushes screened whoever or whatever it was, and she crept closer,
Jane beside her. She approached the bushes from which the sounds
emerged, and carefully parted the branches.

Robin stood
with his back against the bole of a tree. He was oblivious to
everything, concentrating on what he was doing, the expression on
his face that of a martyred saint. From where they stood, peeping
between the foliage, Jane and Maria had an uninterrupted view.
Maria drew in a strangled gasp, gazing in astonishment to where
Robin had unfastened the flap of his form-hugging black trousers.
From this protruded an object which she instinctively recognised -
it was long, thick and swarthy-skinned - a fully erect penis.