Belgravia: Another Side - Part 4

 

Author's Note: Like most serialized stories, you will have difficulty understanding what's going on, if you haven't read the earlier parts.  In this case, Part 3 (see below) will provide fairly adequate context.

My focus so far in this story has been the discipline imposed upon the servant class by the upper-class. This part is no different and once again, we have a detailed example of workplace discipline.

Belgravia: Another Side - Part 4

Next day, as instructed, Joan knocked on the study door promptly at 10:00 am. Upon hearing the command to enter, Joan proceeded into the master's study and was greeted by a tense Alistair. Alistair had several large piles of papers in front of him and was sorting these into smaller piles.

“Oh, yes, Joan!  Thank you for being punctual for time is running short for me.  Uncle will be returning from Church shortly and I need to get all of this documentation ready.  Would you please undo the ties on your drawers and lie on the bench.”

“What??!! You're not going to punish me further... I mean....”

Alistair quickly cut her off, “Do as you are told, Miss Harleton!  I just told you, I'm short of time.”

Joan knew that upsetting Alistair would gain her nothing and only make things worse. She untied the strings on her drawers and lay on the punishment bench as ordered. 

After sorting a few more documents, Alistair approached Joan and raised both her dress and undergarments high on her back.  He then grabbed the waist band of her drawers with both hands and instructed, “Please lift up, Joan.”

“Please, Sir!  Haven't I been punished...”

“LIFT UP!” commanded a stressed Alistair.

Joan quickly complied and Alistair lowered her drawers to her knees.  Her behind was still red in some places, but black and blue in others.  Welts from the strapping were still very apparent, but the swelling had come down some.  Joan felt Alistair's hands on her bare bottom in a rubbing motion.

“Alistair, what are you...”

“Joan, who tended to you after your punishment?” asked Alistair.

“Tended me?  Why no one.  You told me that I shouldn't try to alleviate the discomfort in my...”

“That is good,” said Alistair as he continued to apply the salve.  “Listen to me.  You must NOT show your backside to anyone.  Anyone seeing your behind will know that you've been on the punishment bench. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”

“Good!  When you leave here, you'll take this jar of salve with you.  Apply at night and in the morning and you'll mend quickly. Joan, this is not a service I provide to anyone.  While I always inspect the next day, most punishments are significantly more severe than yours. Thus, sometimes I need to direct the miscreants to get ice packs. You do NOT require such; just apply the ointment as instructed and your backside will return to normal rather quickly.”

“Thank you, Sir,” answered Joan.  “I'll do as you say.”

“If you'll excuse me, I must return to getting these documents in order for my Uncle. Let's hope you exercise far more control over my flighty cousins.  I mean, isn't it better for you to apply the strap to their disobedient bottoms than have the strap applied to yours?”

“Yes, indeed, it is and... I will do so!  You can be sure of that!  Thank you, Alistair, for keeping this entire affair private.” With that Joan left the study determined to rein in her charges.  Never again, she vowed, would she be put on the punishment bench due to their misbehavior.

~00O00~

A few days later in any empty hallway, Joan was approached by Agnes. “Hi, Miss Harleton!  How did you make out with the Master?”

“Oh hi, Agnes.  Well surprisingly, I never heard from His Lordship.  I really don't know what happened AND... I'm certainly not going to ask. I was never the culprit anyhow.  It was his daughters that caused all the commotion.”

“Lucky for you then!” said Agnes. “Wish I were that fortunate.  I have to see Mr. Simmons in that mop room after our evening meal.  Apparently, I need a lesson in learning how to talk to my 'betters'.”

“Oh nooo,” responded Joan.  “That's terrible, Agnes. You poor soul.”

“Well, I'm just getting a tenner.”

“Oh my!  That sounds dreadful.”

“Naaa, it's really not that bad.  I've had much worse than ten swats.  I'll be sore for a few days.  It's not like they are really upset with me.  When they're really angry, you get buckled on the bench and they give you 25 or more swats.  Now that is murder and has you howling and screaming for mercy.  It's when you get one of those that you really take notice - that's when you had better mend your ways.”

“Agnes, I simply can not imagine how much that would hurt. I hope I never get to experience something like that in my lifetime.”

“Well, as long as you don't murder one of your charges, I'd say you are pretty safe.  Although, sometimes I feel like murdering one or both of them!”

“Oh, they are OK.  Just full of energy and occasionally require some strong discipline, which... I can guarantee, I'll now be providing.”

~00O00~

A few hours later, Joan was approached by the butler, Mr. Simmons.  “Miss Joan, lucky I came upon you. I've been asked to invite you to a punishment session I'm holding tonight after our evening meal.”

Joan totally shocked and with a lump in her throat muttered, “Mr. Simmons, I don't understand...”

Before she could finish, Mr. Simmons explained, “It seems Her Ladyship thinks it would be good for you and has asked that you attend. We'll meet in the 2nd floor mop room about a half hour after tonight's meal.  See you then, Miss Harleton.” And with that brief exchange, Mr. Simmons headed off towards the kitchen.

Joan was overwhelmed with emotion. Tons of thoughts were swirling in her mind: 'So I'm to be spanked with the other staff by Mr. Simmons?  But this can't be!  Alistair and Agnes both said that would be 'unseemly'.  Her Ladyship is so angry maybe she doesn't care? Maybe she wants the maids to know that I've been punished. But...but I've already been punished!  Does Margaret even know that I've been strapped by Alistair?  I must see Margaret and beg her to relent.  I still have vivid marks on my hind end, so I can prove I was punished.  Alistair will confirm or.... will he?  Alistair!!!  Is this all his doing?  Was he insistent on keeping this quiet just so that he could get me bare on the punishment bench and strap my behind? Was this all a ploy on his part to take advantage of me? That is, subject me to an unauthorized punishment and now I must face my 'real' punishment? Oh, how devious a person he must be to do this to me? Oh, Lord, what am I going to do?  Who can I turn to? If I approach Her Ladyship, she may think I'm just scheming to get out of my punishment.  Since being turned out is not an option, I guess I'm doomed once again to lie on that bench. Let's hope that I take my punishment with more dignity than Agnes takes hers. How humiliating it would be if Agnes shows more grace and decorum than me.  If that happens, I sure Mr. Simmons would tell Her Ladyship and Agnes...  well... she would tell everyone else! This is so unfair! My behind is still tender and sore in places.  There is no way, I'll be able to take another strapping without jumping up and screaming the place down.

These and other thoughts were churning around in Joan's mind for several hours.  She was solely focused on the punishment Margaret deemed would be “good for her”.  Ultimately, she decided that approaching Her Ladyship was too risky given how angry she was. Alistair was nowhere to be found; he had returned home. Her only remaining option was to explain her situation to Mr. Simmons. For once she was positioned on the punishment bench, he would clearly see that recently, she had been subjected to a good strapping. (Actually, the marks left by Alistair would be visible for weeks.) She heard from others that Mr. Simmons was a fair man.  In spite of that, he would never disobey a direct order from Margaret.  No, he would deliver the chastisement, but... he could mitigate the severity.  This in Joan's mind was her only hope.

Her problem now was figuring out a way to approach Mr. Simmons. 

~00O00~

Evening meal was over (Joan ate almost nothing due to fretting over her impending punishment) and she began the long walk to the 2nd floor mop room (aka Spanking Room).  Upon turning to head up the stairs, Mr. Simmons met her and said, “Well, I see, Miss Joan, we are heading in the same direction.  Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

 “Of course, Sir. As we walk, I wonder if you'd let me share some information with you.”

“Certainly,” replied Simons, “but first let me tell you why her Ladyship suggested you attend this session.”

'Oh dear!  Here we go!' thought Joan.

“She is concerned that you haven't been strict enough with either our staff or her children. In the eighteen months you've been here, not once have you ordered a staff member to attend one of my punishment sessions.  Now our staff are generally well behaved, but they aren't that good.  Nor have you requested that their father deal with your charges and everyone knows, THEY are NOT that good!” 

“So, Her Ladyship is concerned that you might falsely believe that our typical session is way too severe for the maids, stable and kitchen helpers. It's true that most often we use a prison strap, but rarely do we give as many strokes as in a prison punishment. His Lordship uses a similar strap on his daughters, but again, not a lot of strokes.  Thus, Her Ladyship feels that once you see for yourself an actual discipline session, you'll be more inclined to send lazy, sloppy or disrespectful staff to me for punishment. As a valued member of this household, Miss Joan, maintaining high standards in this grand house is one of your responsibilities. Discipline simply must be applied whenever those standards are not upheld.”

Joan Harleton upon hearing Mr. Simmons explanation was totally relieved.  From fretting over herself being placed on that punishment bench, she now learned that she would only observe others on the bench.  Her spirits were greatly lifted. She further wanted to appear in accord with Mr. Simmons, and asked, “Is Agnes going to attend tonight's session?”

“Why yes, she is.  Apparently, she was quite flippant with Mrs. Bleacher.  We can't have that.  Staff must know their place. Mrs. Bleacher has requested ten strokes. Then, we also have that new and rather clumsy maid, Polly.”

“Oh dear!  Wasn't she the one who drenched the bishop in tea?”

“Exactly!  One and the same!  She attended a session for that fiasco.  Today, she dropped a tray and broke three teacups.  Nothing of value, mind you, but she did it right in front of Her Ladyship!  I then got a blistering note saying that 'bungling Polly' is still not paying attention to what she is doing and that clearly... she hadn't learned anything from her first session.”

“Heavens!” exclaimed Joan. “What are you planning to do?”

“Since she was new to this house, I had pity on her and gave her only a dozen strokes.  I won't make that mistake again.  Tonight, she's getting a minimum of fifteen!”

“Minimum?  Is there a maximum?”

“Well, I usually defer to the punishment proscribed by the person sending the miscreant. In this case, however, Her Ladyship did not specify.   So, I have decided that fifteen strokes is a fair and well-deserved punishment for the broken teacups. She will get more, if she fails to take her punishment with the expected decorum. That may not seem very severe, but Polly's behind is not nearly as well padded as Agnes'. Believe me; Polly will feel each and every stroke, as I plan to lay them on full strength.”

“This leads nicely into the reasoning behind our punishment sessions.  In short, spankings must be made to hurt a great deal if they were to be of any value.  That's why His Lordship supplies us with these prison straps. Now, the hardened prison inmates would only laugh at ten to fifteen strokes. Nevertheless, I can guarantee that for our pampered maids the planned strokes, whipped into their soft, bare bottoms, will get their undivided attention.”

“My neck is on the line here as well, Miss Joan.  If Polly continues to drop things, who do you think Her Ladyship will blame?”

“Yes, I'm beginning to see your problem,” answered Joan fully mindful of the strapping she got because of the actions not of her, but... of her charges. “Clearly, you are right, Mr. Simmons. We really need to work together to improve discipline in this house.”

“Yes, indeed!  It's my experience, that nothing gets results faster than a well strapped behind.”

With that they both entered the Spanking Room and found Agnes and Polly already there.  (Both in trouble, neither wanted to be late and make matters worse.) Agnes and Polly were both surprised to see Joan Harleton accompany Mr. Simmons, but neither dared to ask why she was going to witness their punishment.

Mr. Simmons began, “Well, ladies, I believe you know why you are here?”

“Yes, Sir,” answered Poly and Agnes together.

“Good!  There is no need for a lecture.  Polly you are getting fifteen strokes and Agnes ten.  Let's move with haste so that we can all get to bed early. Please remove your work dresses, shoes, socks and drawers.”

Again, Poly and Agnes replied, “Yes, Sir” and immediately began removing clothing.

While they were undressing, Mr. Simmons further explained, “Tonight you must help your fellow servant hold her position on the bench.  If either of you moves out of position, you'll both be getting 5 additional strokes.  That's 5 strokes for each occurrence.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir!” again the duo replied.

While both were standing bare foot in their identical, knee-length, white cotton shifts, the head butler said, “You're first, Agnes.”

With that Agnes lay down on the bench, which Joan noticed was NOT flat like the bench she was on in the Master's study. This bench, while similar in size, was more sophisticated.  It had an adjustable incline which positioned the delinquent's hind quarters perfectly for the strap to do its work. Agnes, having lots of experience on this bench, knew exactly how to position herself.

Once in position, Mr. Simmons ordered, “Polly, raise her shift so it's out of the way high on her back and keep it there.”

Polly did as ordered and Joan saw that Agnes was totally bare from her waist down.  The bottom cheeks of the 31-year-old maid could be described as in proportion, heavy and low slung with a deep divide. Obviously, they were not flabby and soft, but firm and solid as you'd expect from a maid that was scurrying about 12 hours a day. Nor were they overly large, but in correct proportion to give Agnes that hourglass figure.

As her bare behind came into view, Agnes began to think about Miss Harleton watching all of this. It was most humiliating for Agnes, but she remembered that at any time Joan had the status to punish her. Joan spanked her charges with a hairbrush and their cries could be heard throughout the house. On the other hand, her presence could lend some decorum to the session and hopefully, keep Mr. Simmons “in check”. That is, no matter how angry he became, he'd never show it if front of Miss Harleton.

“OK, Polly, kneel down in front of Agnes and grab her hands firmly.  Remember if she moves out of position, you'll both get 5 extra strokes - for each occurrence,” ordered Simmons.

“Yes, Sir,” replied Polly as she interlaced her fingers with Agnes making it almost impossible for Agnes to pull away.

“Notice, Miss Joan, that not only are we teaching discipline, but also cooperation.  Our staff must work together and support each other, as the consequence for not doing so... will be felt by all.”

“That makes good sense, Mr. Simmons.  Do you often have more than one to correct, so that you can compel cooperation?”

“We try to schedule these sessions with multiple delinquents. It's just way more efficient for me. Plus, the miscreants learn from watching others getting their punishments. Thus, there is a multiplier effect. And now it's time to begin...” With that Simmons raised the strap high over his back, while appreciating the last moment of the unmarred whiteness on Agnes' bare, well-formed backside.  He then brought the strap down with full force that caused an ear shattering  CCRRACKKK! as it landed on the exposed behind.

“YOOOWWWWWW!” cried Agnes as she lamented, 'No, matter how many times you've been through it, you're never really prepared for how bad that first swat hurts.'

'WOW!' thought Joan. 'Agnes is really going to get a sound spanking.'

Simmons continued and another loud WWHHACCCKKK was heard as well as the response from Agnes:  “OOUCCHH!”

From Joan's observation, Agnes' cries were decreasing in intensity and that made no sense.  Surely, the pain and fire in her bottom were increasing with each swat.  When Joan was on the bench, the cumulative effect had her hoarse from screaming. Agnes, however, was accustomed to corporal punishment and perhaps she was “settling in” or perhaps her vocalizations were simply her way to reassure Simmons that his strokes were being felt. In any event, it continued like this until the last few swats at which Agnes yelled: “OH, MR. SIMMONS NOT SO HARD!  PLEASE!  I WASN'T THAT BAD.”

During her entire punishment, Agnes never moved her backside out of position.  Yes, her cheeks wiggled from side to side, but Agnes knew she could easily take her punishment.  There was no point in irritating Mr. Simmons.  She knew that by showing total acceptance, Mr. Simmons would believe Agnes had learned her lesson and he would ease up a bit.

Indeed, the last stroke was no harder than the others and Agnes immediately leaped up rubbing her burning posteriors.  'Oh dear,' thought Joan, 'now she'll be back on the bench getting a “repeat”.'  But nothing happened!  Agnes continued jumping around rubbing her inflamed hindquarters and not a word was said. 'How could this be? Alistair would not allow me to comfort my scorched backside... AND I had to lie on the bench until I got myself under control.'

“That's enough, Agnes.  It's your turn now, Polly,” ordered Mr. Simmons.

Polly climbed on the bench and got herself into the correct position rather quickly.  Agnes also rapidly lifted up Polly's shift and Polly's hind cheeks came into view.  The 23-year-old's slender, jutting bottom cheeks were of the most sensitive type. That prison strap would just set them on fire.  Indeed, this is the type of bottom that should respond positively to corporal punishment.

The dynamics were also totally different in this punishment.  Polly must improve her performance or Simmons' “discipline” would be viewed as ineffective.  Thus, while Agnes got solid, firm swats, poor Polly would be getting 15 full force swats. Agnes instinctively understood this.  She grabbed Polly firmly, as no way would she let Polly move out of position and cause her another 5 swats.

Mr. Simmons' very first swat landed with a  WWHHACCCKKK that sounded like a musket going off. 

Polly answered with:  “YOOOWWWWWWWIIIEEEE!”

Next stroke wrapped around the slender, jutting bottom cheeks sending shock waves in all directions:  CCRRACKKKKKKK!

“OOOOOOWWWWWWWW!  Please! Please Mr. Simmons!  It hurts soooo much!!”  Polly's hips bucked up off the bench each time the strap landed on her perfectly positioned behind. It was a reflex reaction that was followed with her hips wiggling in the air making her cheeks bounce into each other.  Rather quickly, her hips returned to the bench. Polly then intentionally lifted her bottom up offering her underside to the heavy strap. This is exactly as Agnes suggested for it was a way to show Mr. Simmons that she was accepting and cooperating with her punishment.  

It worked! Simmons decided Polly is clearly showing remorse.  He tempered the force of his strokes accordingly until the very last few.  These last two, he once again delivered full force.

Joan noticed that throughout the spanking, Polly continually clenched and un-clenched her toes.  'WOW,' thought Joan, 'this prison strap is an agonizing implement of corporal punishment. Further, it made little difference who applied it.  It was equally effective in the hands of the lanky Alistair or the stout head butler.'

Polly soon became hoarse from screaming. After the last swat, she jumped up (similar to Agnes) and grabbed her crimson, swollen hillocks until the peak of the pain subsided.  Tears and muffled crying continued for several minutes while she comforted her well whipped hindquarters.

“OK, that's it!  We finished in record time! Both of you took your punishment like troopers.  Well done! I am ordering you both to remain in bed two extra hours tomorrow morning. Miss Joan, let's leave these two as they need to redress and head off to their quarters,” exclaimed the well-pleased butler.

As they were walking to their own rooms, Joan still intent on supporting Mr. Simmons disciplinary efforts asked, “Were you not surprised by the way they both jumped off the bench upon receiving their last swat?  I mean, they both hopped around crying and comforting their sore bottoms.”

“Not at all!” answered the head butler, “It's an unwritten rule in this household that if you maintain position throughout your punishment, afterwards you are free to do what you please. In short, they both did their job.”

“I see!  I never heard of this rule, and I must say, they were not the only ones who did their job.  You did an excellent job, Mr. Simmons, of correcting their poor behavior and instilling a sense of cooperation.  Well done!”

“Why thank you very much, Miss Joan. We must all work together to ensure discipline is maintained and cooperation is encouraged if this grand house is to flourish. And now I must bid you, good night.”

“Good night to you as well, Sir,” replied Joan all the while thinking about that SOB Alistair who forced her to remain on the bench crying her eyes out while her scorched bottom just begged for comforting.

 ~00O00~

So, were the punishments effective? 

As far as Agnes was concerned, it was just another "tenner".  She'd had them before on multiple occasions and she'd have them again. She was correct in that they really weren't angry with her.  They just felt she should show a little more respect towards her staff superiors and thus, awarded her that "tenner".  Given her frequent visits to the Spanking Room, she had no trouble and took it all in stride. Even her boyfriend, Jonathan (a highly valued stableman) teased her about the spanking. He jokingly threatened that as her male protector, he should give her a "reinforcing spanking". 

Agnes responded, “Well alright, I suppose it's your right, but... NOT today!  Give me a few days for my poor hind end to return to normal and then you can perform your duties." 

Jonathan was shocked by her response.  Was she really agreeing to a spanking?  Now, husbands spanked their misbehaving wives all the time. It was considered their duty. Was Agnes conferring this right to him?

Regarding Mrs. Bleacher, Agnes had never been particularly fond of her, and after this strapping, she decided to avoid her for the next few days. After all, there was no sense in "poking the bear" and earning another "tenner".

That leaves Polly, who took her spanking in stride as well.  

As they were leaving the Spanking Room, Polly lamented, “WOW! That was intense!”

“Naaaa,” replied Agnes. “I got a standard "tenner" and you got a few more. Nothing special here.”

“I suppose you are right,” admitted Polly.  “In Lord Darthmore's house, I'd have gotten a much worse punishment.  He'd have given me a minimum of 25 strokes while tied down on the bench, plus a possible "reminder" two weeks later.”

“Listen, Polly, you need to take your time and be more careful.  After all, there is simply no reason to rush in this household; we have more than enough staff.  We also have plenty of good food. You ought to eat more! A little more padding on your backside will dull the sting of that strap,” advised Agnes.

“Yes, of course, you are right. Any chance you might have some of that soothing lotion?”

“Come with me....”

 ~00O00~

Well, there you have it.  Another Side of the Belgravia era showing how discipline was maintained in those grand, old houses.

There is still much to be told about the squabbling sisters Margaret and Rebecca, the servant couple Agnes and her boyfriend Jonathon, the clumsy maid Polly, and of course, the four mischievous, teenage cousins. 

Let us know where your interests lie.