Juliet & The Captain

Chapter One Her auburn locks flying in the breeze, Juliet rode the stallion across a wide meadow and into the trees at the edge of the estate’s vast borders. There was honeysuckle in blossom, with traces of Sweet William, and the fresh scent of springtime fir filling the air. The dew which had sparkled during the early hour when her ride began was now dried away by a warm sun. Only a few soft cotton clouds dotted the blue sky. The sunshine barely filtered through the thick grove of trees. She saw the fence line of the property beyond the brook where the stallion drank. A quick burst of energy, and the fine animal with her on its broad black back could fly over that boundary. Did she dare take off over it and liberate herself from the confines of the estate? How many times she’d dreamed of flying over that fence, and finding a life in some exciting place beyond the world she knew. Her life choices were so very few, and she was daunted by the lack of knowledge of those other worlds. Only in books had she tasted the air of great cities, and the wide open expanses of other places. She could hear the choirs of Rome in her head, the sound of British soldiers marching, the flutter of sea gulls at the shore, the cries of street merchants selling their fine wares in bustling cities. But only in her mind. Now, only on the stallion did she feel any freedom at all, did she really wonder if she could transport herself into the great scary unknown. It must have been nearly ten o’clock by the looks of the sun. She stared into the sky, toward the flaming ball that could always be felt but never really seen. That was the way her heart worked. She felt things but could rarely stare them in the eye, face to face. She’d be missed by now; yet the morning was too glorious to miss, and later in the day when she sat by her window, she would remember her early morning flight with an affectionate thrill. The stallion with Juliet on its back pulled up to the great gate of the stone stable. Both were out of breath. As she feared, her guardian, Mr. Terrell, stood in the courtyard with two grooms, their expressions of worry obvious. Her guardian looked up at her with eyes, not of relief, but anger. She expected no more than that. One of the grooms took the reins from her as Juliet looked down at the three grim men. “There’s lunch for the Vicar at noon,” Mr. Terrell said in a husky voice. He was not old, but he was the kind of man that would always look old, with a hard unchanging expression on his face. His eyes could pierce right through her. Juliet imagined that at one time in his life, there could have been some softness there, though she had never seen any. “Change your clothes now and meet me in my rooms. You’re lucky I don’t whip you right here in the stable.” “Yes sir,” Juliet replied, not at all meekly. She made her decision and the consequences were expected. As she dismounted the stallion, the animal was taken away. It might be sometime before she’d ride the exquisite beast again, but the ride this day was worth any price her guardian would force her to pay. She was delighted to wear her britches, the scowling man hated them, and that delighted her too. Racing toward the house, she was up the stairs in seconds. “You’ve made him very angry,” Miss Hibbard said. The upstairs maid looked like some old crone, but her eyes could twinkle, and her sometimes her face would even break out into a smile. She hated it when Juliet did these things, and she didn’t hesitate to say so. “I don’t really care,” Juliet said with a degree of haughtiness meant to claim her position, not to upset the often kind woman. Miss Hibbard pulled away her damp coat and britches. “These old things, I don’t know why you can’t ride like a lady,” she grumbled, as she took them from her and tossed them in a pile on the floor. “One thing for certain, Miss, you won’t be wearing them anytime soon. Master will probably have me burn them.” Miss Hibbard pulled from Juliet’s wardrobe a fresh pair of pantaloons, a chemise, a tight fitting corset and the dress she thought was proper for lunch with the Vicar. Juliet groaned. “Stop that now, you’d better make a good impression on the Vicar, he could get you out of this place.” “Yes, likely married to one of those dour seminary students. Miss Hibbard, I’d die if I had to live my life with them.” “Women don’t have many choices, Miss. You’d better take the best looking one, because believe me, they don’t get better as the years go by. You’re already seventeen. Probably should be married by now.” “I don’t want to get married, ever. At least not to anyone that looks like Mr. Terrell’s friends.” “Mr. Beecham has had his eye on you for years,” the maid offered. “Oh god, please don’t suggest that, I’d die.” Juliet was sucking in her breath, allowing the maid to lace the corset tight about her middle. The auburn-haired maiden hardly needed the garment to ensure her of the fine form she enjoyed at her age. Already well endowed, her breasts were a fine round melon shape, her waist was tiny, and her hips flowed naturally wide, but not so wide as to give her a disproportionate bottom. Any man thinking of children would find Juliet a perfect build. Any man looking for a fine woman to bed would find Juliet easily capable of raising their baser passions. “There you go,” Miss Hibbard said, after she’d pulled the dress down over Juliet’s head and buttoned the tiny pearl buttons behind. “Looks very lovely on you, miss.” “Thank you,” Juliet said. She looked at her flushed face in the mirror, seeing the red rosy cheeks of morning still there. She ran a brush through her long auburn locks, they cascaded in a sumptuous way about her bodice, and to her looked perfect. Her guardian would prefer she keep her hair swept back in a bun, but she wouldn’t do that today. It was a statement of defiance. Approaching her guardian’s room, Juliet knocked on the door. “Enter,” she heard the familiar voice on the other side. He stood by the window looking out and turned to her when she walked inside. The scene was not unfamiliar to either one of them. “I should think of all days you’d not require this today.” Juliet didn’t answer. It was better that she didn’t. “Twelve with the cane,” he announced. Juliet gasped. She hadn’t expected so many. Six, or maybe eight, but this was rarely the number she was accustomed to. “Don’t whimper,” the man said haughtily. The cane was already in his hand and he motioned Juliet to the foot of his massive bed, where she immediately bent over and grabbed the lower bed rail. “Approaching his charge he lifted her massive skirt to reveal Juliet’s legs, well covered in her bloomers. Reaching to her waist he unbuttoned the underclothes, and with a sure swift hand he yanked them down. The chemise that fluttered from her waist was lifted up as well, so that there was nothing but Juliet’s fine white legs and creamy bottom in his view, all surrounded by the delicate mass of feminine garments. Twelve would allow him to broaden the scope of punishment, twelve would allow a full range of cuts from the top of her buttocks to her mid thigh. It would be a stunning punishment she would not soon forget. Rearing back, he let the first cut quickly whisk through the air and land square in the center of Juliet’s round rear cheeks. “Yeeeawwww!” she cried. He was starting harsh, and it would only get worse. “Two,” he announced, and he reared back for the second. The second one was placed just above the first. “Three.” The next one landed just below the first, and three sharp red lines appeared on the girl’s bottom. “Oh gawd!” she cried Immediately another cut landed. “Use the Lord’s name again, and I’ll doubt your punishment,” he vowed. “Swish Thwack! “Oh please!” Swish! Thwack! “Nooooooo . . . .” Swish Thwack! Mr. Terrell said no more, his unpleasant business too much a task for words; he was more interested in putting his vigor into the strokes of the cane. He aimed well, making certain to let the fine thin implement land exactly where he wanted it. The cuts descended on Juliet’s rear an inch at a time, the red stripes very distinct, much to his pleasure. Swish! Thwack! Swish! Thwack! Juliet’s body jerked each time; each time her cry was clear. Though after correcting her unfortunate choice of words, she curbed her speech. Profanity was verboten in Mr. Terrell’s house. Swish! Thwack! This cut landed at the very base of Juliet’s bottom, right where the legs meet her torso. Ah! No, no, no!” Her cry was louder than all the others. The pain was fiery, mounting with each cut to a level beyond what she could tolerate. The great number of blows was responsible. Usually a caning was just six, brisk and quickly over. It would burn, but only for a few minutes, even if the soreness remained. This however was excruciating. Swish! Thwack! “Sir, I cannot stand another one,” she wailed. Swish! Thwack! The last was laid on while ignoring Juliet’s protest. Right at mid thigh, she howled so the whole house might well have heard her plight. Mr. Terrell backed away, though his eyes remained fixed on the young woman’s bottom as he admired her backside. “You’re made for such things,” he said. “We can be thankful that we have this to curb your hazardous and petulant behavior.” He backed away further, but did not release her. She was destined to remain in her place until his command allowed her to restore her clothes and her dignity. There were times she remained so posed for well over an hour after she’d been punished, until her legs ached, and her bottom had grown cold in the chilly damp air of the room. “Please, sir, may I rise,” Juliet ventured, hoping to enlist some small degree of compassion. “I would have you remain so all afternoon,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll bring you back. Though now, our lunch awaits. You may restore yourself and then join me in the dining room. By now, the Vicar should be arriving.” Juliet stood up, her skirt dropping around her punished rear, though her drawers were still at her feet. A few remaining tears trickled down her cheeks, though she tried hard not to show her distress. She could still feel the pain in her bottom, and that was very rich. Looking at her guardian, she was unsure whether he would say anything else. “Sir, all things considered, could I skip lunch?” she asked. “Absolutely not!” he answered as he brusquely left. The dining room was set with special china and a fine damask cloth. Mary, the dining room maid, had shined the room until it sparkled. The Vicar was coming, bringing his wife, which Mr. Terrell always considered a rare treat. Juliet’s guardian sat at the head of the great table, Juliet was at his right, their guests were across from Juliet. Sitting down, Juliet winced, her bottom still very sore. “You have some physical difficulty?” Mrs. Aldridge inquired. Her pinched expression gave her face a strange look. She had the very tiniest lips, and tiny eyes, like a woman in miniature. Even her laugh was tiny. Though oddly, she was not a delicate woman, there was a harshness about her that was inexplicable. Juliet had met many harsh prim women like her; and she liked Mrs. Aldridge the least. “No, ma’am,” Juliet was ready to disavow her instant of pain. “You should tell our guests of your condition,” Mr. Terrell told her. Juliet tried not to blush. “My young charge was just caned,” Mr. Terrell explained for her, with a degree of triumph is his voice that Juliet hated hearing. “Caned!” Mrs. Aldridge looked surprised. The Vicar sat expressionless in his own pinched judgmental way. “Yes, I find the implement serves as a ready tool for correcting a misbehaving young lady.” “I’m glad to see you lay it on liberally,” the Vicar retorted. “Why, I’ve never seen a caning,” Mrs. Aldridge said. “I often think we have a maid that could use such treatment, Mr. Aldridge,” she said, turning to her husband. “Juliet,” Mr. Terrell addressed his charge, “Why don’t you show your punished bottom to the Vicar and his wife.” “Oh, sir, no!” Juliet gasped. The very idea of showing herself this way had to be the very worst humiliation. “In fact, I should think another three cuts would be adequate to demonstrate to our guests the proper technique for punishment. Don’t you think?” Mrs. Aldridge nodded, obviously delighted with the prospects of seeing the fine young woman being further disciplined. “Sir, I will not!” Juliet protested. She was about to bolt the room altogether, her guardian and his guests seeing the mutiny in her flashing green eyes. “If you would prefer to have another twelve in private, that would do,” Mr. Terrell said. Juliet eyed the man as she pondered the two horrid fates. She wanted to scream loudly. “Mary, go get my cane,” Mr. Terrell called to the waiting maid. “Yes, sir,” the maid said sweetly, as she curtsied, and then scampered out to do the master’s bidding. “Stand up, Juliet, and lean over the sideboard,” Mr. Terrell instructed. It was a reluctant journey, but one she took nonetheless. How could she not? The alternative was impossible to consider, another twelve on her already sore bottom? Mr. Terrell knew he would get his way. Any other alternatives were unavailable. Rising from her chair, Juliet realized the only good thing about the punishment, she didn’t have to watch the expressions on the faces of the guests, when her bottom was bared. She could hide her humiliation, staring mindlessly at the china cabinet before her. Raising her skirt, she quickly lowered her bloomers. With Mary just returning to the room, cane in hand, she hoped to get this beastly business over with as quickly as possible. Mr. Terrell rose from his seat and walked toward Juliet’s exposed posterior. “You can still see most of the stripes,” he pointed out. “How enduring,” Mrs. Aldridge exclaimed. “That is the intent,” Mr. Terrell explained. “The effect of a good caning should last for some time to make a positive impression on your subject.” Juliet hated to be reduced to a “subject”. “I should think Justine would benefit from this, don’t you think so?” Mrs. Aldridge said to the Vicar. “I should say so,” he replied. “Let me show you a good technique,” Mr. Terrell said, stepping up to take aim on Juliet’s rear. Swish, Thwack! Mrs. Aldridge jerked, the Vicar jerked and Juliet jerked. A vicious pain ripped through the poor penitent as the cut landed where she was already very tender. Across at least six other cuts. She might have screamed, but she had her pride, and would not show her torment. “It’s good to allow the wrist to snap just so,” the guardian advised. “The whole might of the arm is not necessary. A broad stroke is more difficult to control; but the controlled cut can be quite impressive to your naughty culprit.” Swish, Thwack! It was difficult to contain her agony, but this time, Juliet would do so at all cost. Swish, Thwack! The third cut landed, the worst of all, it seemed to cut across all the rest, old and new. “Yeeeeawwww!” She couldn’t hold it in any more. “Ah! A good wail is refreshing,” the Vicar said, as if this was something he witnessed every day. More intent on his guests than on Juliet, Mr. Terrell backed off and returned to his place at the table. At first uncertain what to do, Juliet decided to end this indecency immediately, pushing down her skirt to cover her nakedness. “Please rejoin us,” her guardian told her, and she was grateful he wasn’t upset by her assumptive move. Sitting down to lunch again was the most distressing thing. Not only was it more painful yet, facing this horrid trio, she fought with herself not to blush as vibrantly as her blushing rear end. She was grateful that the conversation quickly moved on to other things. When Mary came with their custards and tea however, the conversation took a shocking turn. “So have you planned your nuptials?” the Vicar asked. “I hesitate to announce the engagement until now, but as Juliet is now seventeen, I think that the time would be appropriate.” “What!” Juliet gasped, not at all politely. Mr. Terrell gave her a brisk polite smile. “Surely you’re aware that this would eventually take place, my dear. I have been planning, since your dear mother died, to take you as my wife.” Juliet’s mother had been betrothed to Mr. Terrell six years before, and they had lived with him until her mother’s untimely death. Juliet had always thought of Mr. Terrell more as a stepfather than someone she could marry. “I’m afraid the idea is totally preposterous!” she stated, as if her life depended on it. She was already blushing much more than she had been earlier. “I’m sorry, please excuse me.” She couldn’t stay in the room any longer. The Vicar and his wife looked both shocked and perplexed. “Juliet!” Mr. Terrell barked at her when she was nearly at the door. But the stunned young woman deliberately ignored the man and flew out the door. Juliet remained in her room all afternoon, contemplating the impossible possibility that had been presented to her. Never, never, never, she shook her head adamantly. How could he possibly suggest such a thing! Before supper, several hours later, there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she said. She was sitting in the window and had been crying, though the tears were now gone. No doubt her guardian would see her swollen nose if he was of a mind to notice. “I’m sorry to have shocked you, but regardless of your surprise, your behavior was reprehensible,” he said. “You want to cane me again!” she snapped. “Hold your tongue young woman!” her guardian demanded. Such talk on any other occasion would have meant an immediate correction, but this seemed to be a matter of a different nature, and her guardian was willing to grant her at least a temporary reprieve. “I will NOT marry you,” Juliet informed him. “I would think you should consider this matter carefully, my dear. I realize that I am much older than you; but you realize that this estate is yours if we marry, and there are few other options available for you. A woman of your standing should choose cautiously.” “I’m afraid, sir, I will never marry you. It is impossible.” For the first time in her memory, her guardian was bewildered without a word to say. Instead of speaking, he stared at her for some moments. “I trust that you will think about this further, and consider my proposal thoroughly. I’ll not take NO for your answer now. I’ll give you some time to frame a proper response.” “I’m sure I’ll not change my mind,” she assured him. “Nonetheless, I will not discuss it further for a fortnight. When the final decision has been made, you will of course be punished for your rudeness at lunch. But for the moment, I’ll give you a respite, though I do expect a complete apology to our guests.” “They haven’t left?” she questioned. “They left indeed, several hours ago; but a personal note would be in order, if not a call to the vicarage.” “Yes, sir,” she said, and she watched Mr. Terrell turn on his heel and leave.