Shadows of a Painted Lady

Chapter One-2

“He is quite fond of you.” “Sir Haliday seeks nothing but your happiness.” The Mistress’ words played musically through her mind as Alice made herself ready for the Master.

She was in the maid’s quarters, having whispered to her friend, Hannah, what she needed before she was required in the cellar.

Tightening her corset, the envious maid advised her, whispering, “Don’t be scared. It all looks very extreme, but it’s not. Trust me, our master is very gifted.” She tugged the corset laces so that Alice could hardly breathe—though the sight of the young maid’s beautiful form in the mirror was sheer perfection. “Ah! He’ll love you,” Hannah went on.

“Oh, I don’t know. I have the shakes. It feels like I’m going to my wedding.”

“And how would you know that?”

“My imagination.”

“Your imagination is silly. This is not a marriage, dear girl, this is lust. Something to be enjoyed.” The twinkle in her eye mimicked Madam Haliday’s. They knew the truth, while Alice was still too innocent to understand. And it must be a special truth for all the rumors and looks of eagerness and passion, which filled maids’ faces when Sir Haliday summoned them.

Alice knew that several nights each week one of the girls was taken to the cellar. Others girls were taken in Sir Haliday’s study for similar sessions. There was even an attic with the proper equipment to serve the master’s needs—whatever they were. However, the attic had been locked for several years. (Rumor was that Sir Haliday’s favorite maid was often taken to those upper rooms—in fact, she’d lived there, instead of in the third floor maid’s quarters. One winter, however, it was deathly cold, and the young girl, being so completely compliant that she neglected to speak of her lack of warmth, caught cold and eventually died of pneumonia. Sir Haliday blamed himself and never forgave his negligence. He never used the attic again, as the reminder of the young woman was too painful for him to bear. He did not, however, give up exercising his proprietary rights over his housemaids.)

Now, her turn, Alice could hardly contain her anxiety. And yet, when she was summoned by Major to proceed with him to the cellar, she did so with a look of serene resignation—something she’d been practicing; and an air of dignity that any well-trained maid should naturally possess.

***

Alice stood in the middle of the candlelit, stone cellar, quivering nervously on the inside while her outward calm seemed to bloom. No wonder the other housemaids referred to this as Sir’s dungeon. It was a fact immediately apparent to Alice when she glimpsed a Georgian Cross and a shoulder-high pillory on either side of the room. Along the stone walls a number of wicked devices—whips, cuffs, ropes, chains and leather implements hung as ominous storytellers of deeds perpetrated in this curious domain. At first glance, the truth came to her with astounding clarity. Talk of pain and surrender took on new meaning. The edges of her being began to burn with fright, but she kept her poise—internalizing her fear as though outwardly she could remain indifferent to its reality. She focused on her Master.

Sir Haliday understood this housemaid. Though he’d remained aloof from her, he’d watched her with his critical and endearing eye. She’d learned her duties well—up to this point. But there was much more for her to learn in order to become a full-fledged servant of the house.

She was lovely—there was no discounting that. Her fair features would attract any man’s eye. When Regina Haliday, his wife, had interviewed Alice, he’d been peeking through a crack in the door, seeing firsthand this vision of youth and feminine grace. His plans for her began to formulate then, and had now taken shape in such remarkable fashion that he was nearly obsessed by the innocent power of her ready-to-be plucked virginity. He could not imagine a more perfect creature for his immodest lust.

Alice peered at Sir Haliday from the corner of her steamy blue eyes. There were feelings so raw in her untried body that she thought she’d faint should her Master lay even a single finger on her flesh. Everything in the atmosphere conspired with the man to raise her apprehensions. Her belly quivered, her palms were wet with perspiration, and her parted lips were parched and thirsting. She made them wet with her tongue, while her eyes guardedly stalked the man as he moved in front of her.

“I’m sure that Madam Haliday has instructed you?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir.”

“And what did she tell you?”

“Very little, sir, except that I should surrender. That I’ll find pleasure if I do.”

He nodded. “She’s very right as she well knows what happens in my cellar. I demand a great deal, but I give as much in return. You will feel things from me you’ve never felt before. You will experience passion in ways you’ve never imagined. There will be pain—I warn you, but there will also be a physical release, which will surpass your wildest visions. We’ll work together, Alice, to make this session the very best for us both.”

Sir’s words danced between threat and comfort. Those for comfort soothed her spirit, while his threats turned her insides into shambles and her mind profane with lusty thoughts. She breathed hard; unaware of how her passions flowed from the inner essence of her aroused body.

Sir Haliday stood in front of her with his gaze turning critical.

“Remove your apron,” he ordered.

Her hesitant hands went quickly for the sash behind her back, tugging brusquely until the pressed white garment fell away. He took it from her with a swipe of his hand.

“And now your dress.”

Alice quivered, her nerves on edge, her being grappling with the imminent revelation of her virgin body. Her fingers struggled this time as they worked their way from the neck of her dress to the hem, when she could finally dispense with the black uniform. There, before the eyes of the very interested Sir Haliday, Alice revealed her chest bared to the jiggling tops of her beasts where the pink of her n*****s was about to appear. Alice blushed seeing her Master’s eyes firmly concentrating on the pristine expanse of female flesh she’d just exhibited.

The Master’s gaze moved downward to Alice’s cinched waist, which had been so painstakingly clipped when Hannah’s deft fingers tugged the corset laces from behind. Moving his focus still lower, his eyes came to rest on the glory of the young woman’s lovely hips and the hint of the feminine triangle between her thighs. While her legs, thighs and hips were still clothed in gauzy undergarments, his imagination filled in what his eyes couldn’t see. He could sense the excitement that was flooding her limbs and inspiring her anxious breath.

Waltzing around her nervous body, he enjoyed the erotic heat that poured from the naïve but aroused beauty. Her embarrassment was divine, a thing to nurture on this special night. Never would her experience of shame produce such remarkable sensations in them both. In time, moments of disclosure would become commonplace—there would be nothing new for her to share or him to see. But now! Now, every second was fresh and exhilarating.

Viewing her from behind, he noted the two flowering petals of her ass, guessing that there was a bounty of flesh there for him to use. He imagined the cleft between those cheeks, where a woman holds her dearest secrets, and how his violation of that chasm would please the pulsing organ inside his pants.

“Strip out of your undergarments,” he ordered next.

Alice could hardly bring herself to accomplish this task. But, thankfully, Sir was behind her so she didn’t have the added weight of his imperious eyes to freeze her terrified fingers into numbing inadequacy. After a brief hesitation, she quickly tugged the clothes free of her groin and legs, leaving her most private place vulnerable for her Master’s plans.

“Very nice,” he seemed particularly pleased to find her ass as plump and round as his imagination suspected. And before he thought to view the results of his disclosure from her front side, he ordered her to, “Stand at the cross.”

A nervous twitch raced through Alice’s body. She jumped, then quickly moved toward the awesome structure—a handsomely designed apparatus that had been carefully manufactured to fit a woman’s body. It had been carved of sturdy mahogany and polished until the foreboding struts gleamed and the smooth surfaces danced in the rich yellow candlelight. There were places for her feet to rest at the bottom ends of the crossed wood supports. Her belly and breasts could relax at the juncture of the two; and above, there were thick fur-lined cuffs at each parted post, there to contain her wrists in bondage as she suffered her first experience with the Master’s lash.

He already held the implement in his hand—a black flogger with braided plaits of leather. At least a half dozen dangled from the handle. Alice worried that their impact would tear her body into shreds, but her voice was so strangled by fear that words of protest collected uselessly in her throat. She couldn’t even attempt a meager complaint—just as it should be in Sir Haliday’s world. As property of his household, no housemaid had the right to protest anything the Master required of her.

Alice held on to her thoughts, repeating to herself over and again—”there is nothing to fear, there is nothing to fear.” This seemed to calm her. But only until Sir Haliday moved close.

He had not touched her but once—the day he pulled her to her feet in the foyer and warned her kindly to be more careful. His hands had been reassuring then. Now, they were hot and purposeful, disposing of Alice’s wrists as he guided each one to a cuff and tightened the circle of leather so that she was snuggly bound. He spoke in whispers as he worked. “A flogged woman becomes a sensuous beast,” his words circled about her foggy brain. “She loses her grip on reality, turns soft, compliant and aroused.” He moved from her left wrist to her right. “That is what I want from you, Alice. It may hurt to start, but the pain will soon transform into something far different. Trust me, child, it is only our mutual pleasure I strive for.” He had both wrists secured. “Your surrender is required. Do not struggle or cry out, but endure. Love it. Let the sensation wash over you, let it rain down on your spirit…” He backed away. “Feel it, but do not cry out. Cry if you will, but hold on…” His words drifted on, as he took his place to begin her first erotic beating.

Alice’s body was anxiously ready for the man to start. She could hardly wait for him to begin. At the same time, her apprehensions made her want to beg release. She murmured something, some soft protest that he couldn’t hear; but the first strike was already launched with the lash floating out across her shoulders and descending with a significant splash of feeling to cover both the right and left sides. He continued without stopping, giving her bare back a confusing melange of sensation that one moment was intensely distressing, the next utterly joyous.

At times, it hurt so much that she could not squelch the physical agony.

“Silence…” he urged her, pausing.

Alice contained herself—and did this well in his estimation, though she still had much to learn and endure.

Starting again, Sir Haliday let loose with his powerful arm raining strike after strike, dropping his aim from her shoulders to her ass. There he dared to challenge her limits, making his strikes hit repeatedly and with force until she was about to cry.

Her squelched and frantic sob ended the battle. She had gone as far as he would take her for her first time. With his own physical desire rising rapidly, he had no need whip her more. He moved toward her flaming backside and pressed his right hand to her right ass cheek and squeezed. She moaned, her body undulating erotically, brushing against his chest.

Sensing her positive response, he brought his fingers to the virgin openings in her cleft. He drove along the channel, skirting her bum hole—which instantly tightened—then moved down until he struck at the wet center of her s*x. So ripe and rich with possibilities. It already gushed with the virgin’s pleasure pouring out on his hand. Her center hole was tight, as untried as any young woman’s he’d ever known. He doubted that she even m*********d—or if she did, she’d ever thought to let some slim rod breach the virginal boundary.