Belgravia: Another Side – Part 3

Author's Note: I had no intentions of continuing this story, but after receiving vast encouragement (actually 2.5 people said if I wasn't too busy, I should probably clean the snow out of my driveway), I subsequently decided writing was easier than shoveling.

Anyhow, it seems I have been somewhat remiss in failing to share what the Belgravia TV series was all about. I just assumed that the vast majority of our viewers would be from US, UK, and Canada, and therefore, could easily watch this series.  Eddard many months back turned-on Google Analytics so we now see the locations of our viewers' ISP.  Typically, what Google reports is number of hits from cities (Chicago, Paris, Rome, etc.) and countries. Thus, today we know our readers are far more diverse than we had originally thought. 

So to begin, Belgravia is a neighborhood in London.  To learn more click here:  Belgravia

The TV series is about the people who lived in Belgrave Square after its completion - mid 1840s.  Most of these people were rich aristocrats (landowners who also had majestic homes in large estates all over the England and Ireland).  There were also people from the newly emerging merchant class who made vast sums in trade utilizing the British Empires' incredible network of colonies rich in natural resources. Naturally, there is a “clash” between these people living so closely together. On the one hand, you have very industrious people working hard to make money and on the other, people who feel “entitled” and who just fritter away huge fortunes. Most surprisingly, we discover that it was the women who protected and defended this class structure.

My stories, however, are about “another side” of Belgravia.  That is, my stories focus mostly on the discipline that holds this society together, with special emphasis on the discipline of the underclass. These people have nothing and must work hard in support of the upper classes.  Indeed, obedience and hard work are required in order to assure their very survival.

Part 3

Late in the evening Edmund returned home after a long meeting with the Earl over their joint irrigation project.  Margaret made certain that hot tea and cakes were in waiting for Edmund.  Her plan was regardless of the mood Edmund was in as he crossed the threshold; she would do whatever it takes to raise his spirits.  Her thinking was success in this endeavor was imperative IF she and Rebecca were to avoid a “reminder” strapping at bedtime.

Upon asking Edmund how the meeting went, he responded, “Well, quite surprising actually and potentially, highly profitable for us.”

Margaret replied, “Well that certainly sounds like excellent news to me!”

“As you know, the old man had agreed to fund 50% of the project, but demanded final approval on all important matters. My share was 35% and Paul's was 15%.  Anyhow, as I began to explain the options and costs, the Earl stopped me!  He said he trusted me and Paul, and that whatever we decided, he would support.  He further said that the Bishop had a major problem with a new clergyman and he wanted us to “fix it”.  Further, upon successful completion of this disagreeable task, he would fund the entire project and require no contributions from either of us.”

“What!? Do I understand that you can save a lot of money by fixing the Bishop's problem?”

“Quite Right!  And I don't know what that problem is, but I'll just bet the solution will result in somebody ending up with a bloody nose...  or worse!  Anyhow tomorrow around 2:00pm, the Bishop will be visiting us, so make arrangements for refreshments and light food. Naturally, we'll all have to dress up in our finest as he is the most important visitor, we've ever entertained here.  Everything must be perfect, Margaret, as the Earl and even higher ups will hear about any...  well let's say “imperfections”. Our entire family including Rebecca and her daughters must attend. I've already sent word that I want my nephew, Alistair, to be present as well. Although he's only seventeen, he is extremely well informed on both political and church matters.  For certain, I'll need his consul on understanding and solving the Bishop's problem.”

With that they both went to bed and Margaret was happy that no talk of 'reminders' was mentioned. She wasn't the least bit happy that the Bishop and his entourage would be visiting. She hated that “pompous ass” and didn't want him strutting around in her house.  Nevertheless, this was still a far, far preferable outcome to getting a hard strapping.

~00O00~

Early the next morning Joan Harleton, tutor to Edmund's two daughters, agreed to go riding with the girls.  Today Joan was in a celebratory mode as yesterday both girls got their recent test results. After much hard work and many spankings, the girls, who previously failed every subject, finally showed outstanding test results.  Margaret's daughters were much like her. No, way would they submit to any lowly tutor.  It was only with perseverance and many doses of the hairbrush that Joan was able to convince them otherwise.

As a reward, she got up early and they all went riding together.  They knew about the upcoming visit and made certain they would be back in plenty of time to prepare. After riding hard for almost an hour, they stopped by a stream to rest.  The girls looked at the delicious stream and asked if they could go swimming.  Joan looked around, figured no one was way out here and agreed so long as it was a “short swim”.  So swim they did and naturally in the nude, but so what! No, one was out here. 

Unbeknownst to the three, the Bishop was alone on his way to meet with the Earl and saw the swimmers and their guardian. Normally, he'd raise a fuss, but he was on an old, rarely used, rough road and was late for his meeting, so he continued on his way undetected by anyone.

~00O00~

After several hours of wrangling over recent political affairs, the Earl made clear to the Bishop that he'd every confidence in Edmund and Paul, and that they'd solve the Bishop's most serious problem.  What was most important is that the Bishop makes clear to Edmund the seriousness of the situation and that's why it was necessary for the Bishop to personally speak with Edmund during the visit he arranged for this afternoon. 

A short time later, as had been planned, the Bishop's entire entourage including his highly decorated carriage arrived at the Earl's.  This would allow the old, corpulent, unimpressive Bishop to make a grand entrance at Edmund's estate and by doing so he hoped to incentivize Edmund to move quickly on solving his problem.

Immediately after lunch, the entire entourage left for Edmund's and thus were ensured an “on time” arrival.

~00O00~

Of all of Edmund's family, Rebecca was the one most excited about the Bishop's impending arrival. She and her daughters looked radiant in their finest gowns. Margaret, of course, would never allow her younger sister to outshine her so she and her daughters were also dressed “to kill”.

As the six of them came down the stairs to await the Bishop, who shows up? None other than Edmund's favorite nephew, Alistair. All four cousins rushed to hug and greet him as Alistair was good looking, a man with connections, and the perfect gentleman.  Even the tutor, Joan Harleton, rushed to greet the seventeen-year-old saying, “My Lord Alistair, it's been such a long time since your last visit. What a pleasant surprise. We are all delighted that you are here to help us greet His Excellency the Bishop.”

“No, no, it's just plain Alistair, Miss Harleton. I've been riding hard to get here as fast as I could, in fact, after receiving the summons from my Uncle. But the Bishop... here?  Today? This is news to me.”

“Well, if it's just plain Alistair, then it's just plain, Joan.  Yes, our Bishop is due here shortly.  Isn't this exciting?”

“Exciting isn't the word I'd use.  Surprising is more like it, 'just plain' Joan. Now I must beg you all to excuse me, as I simply must find Uncle Edmund,” replied a puzzled Alistair. With that Alistair headed off in search of Edmund.

Shortly after Alistair's arrival, with great ceremony the Bishop arrived. They spent the first hour of the visit munching and mingling, but eventually Edmund decided it was time to get down to business.  Just as Edmund was escorting the Bishop into his study, Polly, Rebecca's maid, tripped over her own feet and sent a tray full of hot tea flying.  Naturally, Polly got everyone including the Bishop. Margaret was furious with that “clumsy” Polly even as her own daughters found this most amusing and couldn't help laughing.

In spite of the commotion, Edmund directed the Bishop into his study where he began to apologize for the accident. Before he could get far, the Bishop asked him who were those two well-dressed young ladies that were laughing at the calamity.

“Oh, those two. Uh... yes, well that would be my daughters,” answered Edmund.

“Oh, really,” answered the Bishop. “I saw them earlier today.”

“You did?”

“Yes, they were naked.”

“WHAT!?”

“Yes, they were swimming in a stream and their governess was watching over them.  Although, I cannot say in reality that she was exercising any moral judgment in her duties.”

Just as the Bishop was explaining what he saw, Margaret burst into the study and immediately took over: “Your Excellency, I am so terribly sorry for the disaster cause by our maid, Polly.  Rest assured she will be severely punished.”

Edmund, trying to remain calm, explained, “It seems, my dear, that is NOT the only disaster today. Not only did our daughters find Polly's disaster amusing, but his Excellency saw them swimming naked earlier today.”

Now it was Margaret's turn, “WHAT!?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied the Bishop. “I saw them swimming naked while being watch over by their governess.”

“Governess?? Oh, you mean their tutor, Miss Joan Harleton. This is too much! Edmund, you must punish the three of them. A good sound strapping is what they ALL need.  Speaking of strapping, that clumsy maid is due for one right now. I think a PUBLIC strapping in front of everyone is precisely the way to teach these servants to exercise more care in performing their duties...”

“Now, Margaret, I don't have time for this!  Simmons can handle Polly.  After all, it's his job to discipline the maids. As for our daughters, why don't you give them a good spanking after church tomorrow?”

“Oh, NO!  Their behavior is totally inexcusable.  This is a job for their father and it's a good strapping they need!”

Already devoting too much time to this, Edmund acquiesced with, “Ok, I will, but TOMORROW after church.  Now, perhaps you could let them know just what awaits them. Let them stew on that for a while - give them something to think about.  Then, I want you to tell Simmons he is to discipline that cloddish maid today IN PRIVATE.  Lord knows, we've had enough public spectacles for one day. Finally, Margaret, would you PLEASE locate Alistair and send him in here.”

“Yes, dear, as you wish, but what about Miss Joan?”

“She should be whipped and sent on her way,” answered the Bishop. “You don't need people of such low morals in your household.”

“Rest assured, Your Excellency, I'll see to Miss Harleton. Now please, Margaret, find Alistair.”

By his language and tone, Margaret clearly understood she was being dismissed.  Prolonging her stay would only place her own behind squarely in the target zone and she had no desire to join her daughters. Fairly quickly Margaret left and spied Alistair as she exited.  She promptly ushered Alistair into the study and closed the door.

“Well, it seems that we've been distracted long enough, Your Excellency.  I don't know whether you've met my nephew, Alistair. Although he is very young, he is well versed in politics.”

“Oh yes, I've met Alistair before at your brother's and if he is as you say, he might know a little about my problem. There is a vicar who is preaching... well heresy... that is....”

“Excuse me, Your Excellency, are you referring to Seamus McBride?” queried Alistair.

A surprised Bishop replied, “You know of Seamus?”

“Who?” asked Edmund.

“The man is a menace!” exclaimed Alistair to his uncle. “His sermons are constantly bashing the church hierarchy and the aristocracy as being corrupt to the core. He is preaching rebellion against every institution, and it simply cannot be allowed.  Someone must do something!”

Both the Bishop and Edmund were completely taken back by the knowledge Alistair demonstrated. “So, what do you suggest,” asked Edmund.

“Well, that idiot constantly speaks in poetic terms saying that his heart belongs in Ireland, his head belongs in Scotland and the rest of him sailing on the open seas.  Well, I suggest we do as he asked.   We cut off his head - send to Scotland, yank out his heart - sent to Ireland, and what's left of him - we bury at sea!”

“Ha Ha Ha, that's a good one!  I LIKE this young man, Edmund.  He has your family's spirit!” remarked the Bishop. He then turned to Edmund, “Well, I guess you know now what you must do.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.  I had better be heading into town directly, if I'm to resolve this Seamus McBride problem.”

“I also must take my leave. I have to inform important people that our 'problem' is being taken care of,” said the Bishop as he said his goodbyes and left the study. 

Alistair turned to Edmund and asked, “Will we be departing with the Bishop, Uncle?”

“No, His Excellency's entourage is way too big and too slow. I'm leaving immediately with fast horses and strong men.  Alistair, you are not going, but need you to...” said Edmund as he explained to Alistair the importance of escorting the Bishop until his departure to avoid any more mishaps. In addition, he gave instructions to Alistair on other matters he was to handle.

~00O00~

Edmund's meeting later that evening with the notorious Seamus McBride was short and quite successful.

Next morning a slightly bruised Seamus visited the Bishop and explained that there was a huge misunderstanding.  Yes, he preached about corrupt church hierarchy, but he was talking about the papists in Ireland - that is, the Catholics. As for the self-serving aristocrats, he was talking about the nobility in Scotland who care only for themselves.  He further brought along a huge purse and gave to the Bishop to help kick off his new fund-raising campaign. 

The Bishop was delighted to hear of this “misunderstanding” and suggest that Seamus should begin immediately to set the record straight with his congregation.

Of course, Seamus thought that was an excellent idea and would immediately begin writing his next sermon.

Meanwhile, the Bishop congratulated himself on appealing to the Earl for help.  As soon as the Earl said he had a man that would get this matter resolved, the Bishop expected results, but never in his wildest imagination did he think it would be resolved this quickly and with as positive an outcome.

~00O00~

Back at home, things quieted down after the Bishop departed with the exception of his daughters and the maid, Polly.  The daughters learned from Margaret of the strapping they would get from their father due to their nude swimming and their giggling at the Bishop. Both were, in Margaret's opinion, reprehensible infractions. They begged for forgiveness, but none was forthcoming.  They even approached their tutor and asked Joan Harleton to intercede on their behalf.

When Joan learned about the scandal of the nude swimming, she feared for her own position.  Shortly after learning about the plight of her students, she was summoned to the study.  To say she was in panic mode would be an understatement.  Losing her position as tutor would be the end of her life.  Where would she go?  What would she do?  With no reference, she had no hope of finding a new position.  Indeed, her very life was in question. 

With little hope and high anxiety, she quickly made her way to the study.  She knocked and entered when bid.  Upon entering she was surprised to find Alistair alone in the study. She greeted with, “Oh?!  Hello, Alistair. I was expecting His Lordship.”

“Yes, Uncle Edmund was called to town unexpectedly.  We expect him back later tonight, but in the meantime, we need to talk about how angry Aunt Margaret is. My cousin's laughing at our poor Bishop drenched in tea was bad enough, but when she learned of their nude swimming while in your care... Well... that just put her over the edge.  My Uncle will dispense punishment to my cousins after church tomorrow in front of the family. So, all that remains is what to do with you.”

“Alistair, I'm so sorry about everything. I will do anything to make up. I'll... I'll...”

“Joan, Uncle Edmund asked me to inform you that you either accept similar punishment as my cousins or your position here will be terminated.  The choice is yours; thankfully, you do not have to make it right now.  Uncle left me with a whole bunch of computations and tasks, so I'll be in here for many hours.  Once the dining room and kitchen are put away for the night, please return here and let me have your decision.”

With that, Joan departed relieved on the one hand that she could keep her position, but corporal punishment!  This was something she absolutely dreaded. It had been many years since her last experienced with corporal punishment while studying to become a tutor. She quickly came to the conclusion that no matter how bad it was, she had no choice, but to accept.  In order to mentally prepare herself, she figured she should consult with other staff and try to learn what was typical for this household.

~00O00~

At the same time that Joan was meeting with Alistair, Polly, the clumsy maid, was chatting with the parlor maid, Agnes.

“I'm worried, Agnes, that Her Ladyship will toss me out. I was brought here by my mistress and have no history or ties to this wonderful house. Oh, what will I do?”

“Polly, don't worry so much.  Yes, Her Ladyship is upset, but her it was her silly daughters that made it worse. You'll probably get a good spanking and everything will be forgotten in the morning,” remarked Agnes in an attempt to allay Polly's fears.

“Well, Mr. Simmons asked me to see him in the 2nd floor mop room as soon as we're done here.  I thought for sure that is where he'd deliver the news... I'm to pack my bags.”

“See!  That's good news. 2nd floor mop room is commonly referred to as the 'Spanking Room'. Although little spanking goes on in there, but as a first offense... you might get lucky and get a spanking.”

“Agnes, I don't understand. What should I expect in that Spanking Room?” asked Polly.

“Well, like I said for a first offense, you'd typically get a good spanking. In this case, you made such an awful mess plus you drenched our Bishop!  I'm afraid that you in for the more common punishment - a hard strapping. I mean, it's bad, but it's still a lot better than being chucked out. Polly, have you ever... you know... had the strap before?” queried Agnes.

“Yes... I have, and it hurts dreadfully,” replied Polly.  Not wishing to share her experience in the woman's prison, she quickly added, “I have no choice. Like you said, it's still better than being put out on the street.  Agnes, can you give me some idea on how it happens and how I should prepare?”

“I'm not an expert, mind you, but I've been in that Spanking Room more times than I care to remember. Anyhow, Mr. Simmons will point to a long, low bench that you must lie down on.  Before you lie down, you should lower your drawers all the way to your ankles.  Rumor has it, if you just lower to your knees, Mr. Simmons will strap you harder because you are not accepting your punishment properly. Before I forget, change out of your formal maid's dress and put on your work dress before you show up to the Spanking Room. Now where was I? Oh yeah, so after you lower your drawers, you raise your dress as high as you can then lie along the bench.  You should then extend your arms out in front of you as straight as you can.  Now the bench has belts to restrict your hands and feet, but tradition is “good girls” should be able to take their punishment without the need for these restraints. Mr. Simmons will ask if you require.  If you haven't had much experience with the strap, you should probably ask him to belt you in. In which case, he usually straps harder and longer, as you are wasting his time. He is a fair man, however, and will tell you how many strokes you are due before you have to answer. If you need to be restrained, he'll usually add five strokes for his 'extra effort'. While those five strokes may seem like a heavy price, it will be way, way worse if you get off the bench or cover up. Polly, do you understand what I'm saying?”

“Yes, Agnes, you've been big help.  I well understand that getting out of position or covering up means that the punishment starts over at the beginning with the additional tariff for being restrained.  That's typical of how we got it at my old house. On a good day and if I'm not already sore, I can take up to twenty strokes without restraints, but above twenty, well... it's just too risky.”

“Don't worry, Love.  You'll do just fine and tomorrow everything will be back to normal; you'll see!”

“Thanks so much, Agnes. I guess I had better change into my work dress, but before I go, any last-minute tips.”

Agnes thought for a minute and mentioned, “Well, I probably shouldn't say, but rumor has it if you lift your rear cheeks up so as to provide a perfect target, especially the sensitive underside of your bottom, Mr. Simmons sees that as fully accepting your punishment. He will then back down on the severity. Now, again this is a rumor. I've never been able do that. That strap just hurts too much!  I was told of this trick by one of the older maids who unfortunately has had plenty of experience with Mr. Simmons and his strap.  Next, when it really starts to hurt, and I assure you it will, don't be shy! Yell out loudly and tell Mr. Simmons how much it hurts. Taking your strapping stoically will only get you a harder strapping. Well, do your best, Polly, and good luck.”

“Thanks again, Agnes.  A director in our orphanage followed this same practice. Once I learned to 'offer up', my hidings became slightly more bearable. Now, I really must change. Last thing I want to do is keep Mr. Simmons waiting.”

~00O00~

It was quite common for maids in their forties and fifties to lie on the bench once or twice each year.  Misbehavior or poor work was rarely the cause. Usually, these maids knew too much about the family and would let slip a remark that infuriated the mistress.  She would then order something like, “When you've finished here, please see Mr. Simmons and ask for eight good strokes to help remind you of your position and responsibilities in this household.” That was it - short and to the point.  There was no scene and no arguing. Our maid would end up tender with bruises and marks lasting a couple of weeks. Fortunate were the single maids, as that would be the end of it.  Married maids could expect a good spanking from their husbands due to the shame they brought upon the family with their “wagging tongues”.

~00O00~

As in most grand houses, Joan Harleton, understood that discipline of maids was handled by the butler, but she really didn't know how it was actually dispensed.  Thus she sought out Agnes, who knew everything about the house and was regarded as quite friendly. Upon exchanging greetings with Agnes, Joan got quickly to the point and asked about the typical punishment dispensed by Mr. Simmons. 

Agnes immediately grew apprehensive and stammered, “P P Please, Miss, if I've o..offended you in any way...”

“Don't be silly, Agnes. I need to know what I should expect. You see, I've displeased Her Ladyship most terribly and I desperately need this position,” explained the worried Joan.

“Oh... OH! Well, let me think,” responded the now much calmer Agnes. “As I see it, Mr. Simmons would never be charged with the duty to punish you. Given your rank, that would be most unseemly. I mean, it just won't happen.”

“Agnes, I'm most confused. My charges told me they would be getting a severe strapping tomorrow. Subsequently, I was told that the only way to keep my position was that I had to accept the same.”

“Ah, now I understand. Only His Lordship will punish family members, including Her Ladyship - only we are NOT supposed to know that; and you didn't hear that from me!  Anyhow, those punishments are dispensed in the master's study where privacy is paramount.  Indeed, cannon could be shot off in that study and no sound would get through that heavy door,” explained Agnes.

“Sooo, I'm to be strapped by His Lordship?! Is that good or bad, Agnes?”

“Well, you can be assured no one will know about your punishment so I think that's good news.  Isn't it?”

'No, one will know, except... blabbermouth Agnes!' thought Joan, 'Might as well publish in the Times!'

“Agnes, what I need to know is how EXACTLY will I be punished?”

“Yes, of course I expect that would be more important to you. My problem is I've never been punished by the master. Now, some of my friends have. If an infraction is really bad or in case Mr. Simmons is unavailable, His Lordship will on occasion take over. What I've been told is His Lordship has a bench very similar to the one in the mop room. The delinquent lies on that bench and gets a strapping they'll not forget for a very long time. Does thus help?” asked Agnes.

“Yes, unfortunately it seems I'm really in for it, but there is nothing I can do about it. Is there?”

“I suppose not, Miss Joan.  You and Polly, that maid who made the awful mess this afternoon is in for it as well. She has to attend the mop room and see Mr. Simmons.  Tomorrow you'll both be a little tender, but then it's done.  All will be forgiven and forgotten. So, cheer up!  It's just a strapping. It's not the end of the world. Lord knows, I've had more than my share.”

News of Agnes' frequent spankings did little to comfort Joan, but her positive attitude put things in better perspective.  After all, if on occasion Edmund's wife and daughters would experience a strapping, how was she any better than them? Further it's not as if she never experienced corporal punishment before.  All through school she had demanding teaches who punished poor work or misbehavior severely.  She lived through that and she would live through this. She made up her mind to return to the study and inform His Lordship she was ready to take her due.

Whereupon she left Agnes and made her way to the study.  Just as she was about to knock, a very large groom came out and he was soaking wet from head to toe.  He held the door open for Joan and left once she entered.

Upon entering, Joan once again encountered Alistair. “Oh, Alistair!  I was expecting His Lordship,” explained Joan.

“Yes, we just got word that Uncle Edmund will return early tomorrow morning providing the rain stops.  He sent one of his men ahead to inform us of the change in plans. It seems my Uncle has no desire to spend two hours on the road in that cold, heavy rain. Be that as it may, have you made a decision?”

“Yes, indeed, I accept your kind offer to keep my position. So, I guess my discipline will happen sometime tomorrow when His Lordship returns.”

“No, no, it will happen as planned... tonight. Nothing has changed,” replied Alistair.

“I'm sorry, I don't understand. Am... am I to be punished by Mr. Simmons?” asked the dispirited Joan.

“Absolutely NOT! That would be most unseemly.  Why the very idea is ridiculous. Joan, why would you even suggest?”

“Well, His Lordship is not here so who... I mean, who will be responsible for my discipline?” asked the bewildered Joan.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Now I understand. Uncle Edmund has assigned that task to me as well as a bunch of others.”

“WHAT!!!??  You, Alistair, have been charged with punishing me???!!!” asked the now extremely distraught Joan. The very idea that at twenty-seven-years-old she would be strapped by the seventeen-year-old Alistair was simply beyond belief.

“Yes, but why the surprise? This is a task I undertake in our household on a weekly basis,” explained Alistair.

“You do!? How... how... how long have you been doing this?”

“Ever since I turned sixteen, Mum decided that I should take addition responsibility for affairs in our household. You see, we don't have as grand a house as this. We have some maids, kitchen help, stable girls etc., but our butler is very old and not up to the job.  So poor work, disrespect, disobedience etc. was punished by my mother OR my father upon mum's insistence. She gave me a few lessons and it became my job henceforth. So, Joan, for the past fifteen months it's been my job to punish on average one to two wrongdoers each week.”

“Oh, I had no idea... I mean, this is such a surprise for me. Will... will... will you do it now, Alistair?” responded Joan in a soft, rueful voice.

“No, I still have these calculations to finish plus discretion is very important here.  Tell me, would it be normal for you to visit my cousins just before bedtime?”

“Yes, I have done so many times.  Why?”

“Well, then you must dress and act as though you are visiting your charges here on the 3rd floor.  This way only you, me, and Uncle Edmund will know about your punishment,” explained Alistair.

“But everyone knows of Her Ladyship's anger with me...”

“Yes, and they also know that my Uncle has final say and since he is presently away, and since he will NOT summon you tomorrow, everyone will think he has either forgiven you, forgotten about you, or is punishing you some other way such as docking your wages. Again, for this to work, you must wear clothes typical of your visits to my cousins, with one exception. You should wear no undergarments. It's not easy to keep things from the staff, but it's NOT impossible. Will you help me here, Joan?”

“Yes, of course, I'll do my best, Alistair. My typical 'visits' would occur about a half hour from now. Would that work for you?”

“That would be perfect and again, you must act as if everything is normal and draw no attention to yourself. I'll leave the door ajar.  Just quietly slip in and then close and lock the door.”

With that Joan left to return to her room on the 2nd floor and change into her nightgown and robe as these were her 'normal' clothes when visiting her charges before bedtime. She was still in a state of shock as she was going through the motions. All she could think about was how mortifying it would be to be strapped by Alistair.  Naturally, it would be awful to be strapped by His Lordship, but he was the master of this household, and it was quite normal for men in his position to discipline those that displeased them. It was expected actually, but to be punished by Alistair, a youth - ten years her junior!!  That was frightfully awful!  And why no undergarments?  Then she decided it was so the strap would be felt through one layer of clothing. 'Obviously, the strap would hardly be felt at all through two or three layers,' she convinced herself, 'Yes, that's it!'  

Just as she thought this, doubt crept in. 'Oh God,' she prayed, 'Please, please not on the bare behind. NOT bare in front of Alistair!' This doubt came about as a result of a brief chat she'd had several months back with the maid, Agnes. During that brief discourse, Agnes let slip that in this household all punishments were delivered to bare backsides. She couldn't even conceive of how mortifying it would be to be strapped on the bare and even worse, the embarrassment and humiliation would be beyond belief IF her charges were to learn that she had been strapped like that... AND FURTHER BY ALISTAIR! It became eminently clear that she must follow Alistair's instructions and do everything in her power to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

As directed, Joan left off her undergarments and after much mental anguish, headed back to the 3rd floor study.

~00O00~

While Joan was meeting with Alistair in Edmund's study on the 3rd floor, Polly in her work dress had knocked and entered the mop room on the 2nd floor. She had never been in this room before and was surprised by the size and number of lamps.  It was quite large and very well-lit. In the middle of the room was a long, low bench that was quite narrow. No, question of its purpose as she had been on one before. Mr. Simmons was there as well and after greeting Joan, he asked, “I assume, Polly, you know why you are here?”

“Yes, Sir.  I made a terrible mess this afternoon.”

“You most certainly did that!  Our mistress is very angry and has mandated stern chastisement. The good news is we never hold grudges in this household. Once you are punished, all will be forgotten.”

“Yes, Sir.  That is good news.  I like it here and very much want to keep my position. May I ask what I'm going to get?”

“Yes, of course. Let's see... while this is your first offense... it was a major blunder! I mean embarrassing the mistress like that in front of his Holiness the Bishop... I think a full dozen strokes of the house strap. Now, Polly, our mistress is most angry, but if you are compliant and take these well, I'm confident I can persuade the mistress that you've... well, learned your lesson.”

A totally relieved Polly uttered a sigh and answered, “Yes, Mr. Simmons that seems quite fair and rest assured you'll get my full cooperation. Would you like me on the bench now?”  From Polly's perspective this was very good news.  If she were back at Lord Darthmore's estate, she would get a minimum of twenty-five swats and possibly more than one session on the bench.

Upon Mr. Simmons nodding in agreement, Polly stepped out of her shoes, reached under her work dress and lowered her drawers all the way to her ankles (just as Agnes had suggested).  She then raised her work dress up as high as she could and lay on the bench. She wiggled a little to get comfortable and then reached her hands out straight to grab the far edge of the bench.  Her plan was to hold onto that edge so tightly that she would not let go to shield her backside no matter how much the strapping hurt.

Mr. Simmons queried, “Polly, you look like a good girl and good girls know how to take their punishment without having to be belted in. It's your choice, dear. If you'd like me to buckle you in, I'd add... um... well, since you are new, just three strokes.”

“That's very kind of you, Mr. Simmons. I am a 'good girl' and know how to take my spankings,” answered the 24-year-old Polly. “I can hold my position.  Please don't buckle me in, but, Mr. Simmons, do I have to remain quiet as well? I'm usually quite loud.”

“Oh, no, Polly, we don't expect those being punished to remain silent.  In fact, I always leave the vent above the door open so that other staff can hear what transpires in this room.  It's good for all staff members to know that strict discipline will be maintained in this grand house.”

Mr. Simmons then laid the heavy strap across the unblemished, white globes so that the end would land right in the middle of the far bottom cheek.  Food being of the highest quality, his miscreants all had rather well-formed hind ends. Over the years, Mr. Simmons had learned than landing the strap right in the middle of the far bottom globe produced the sting and bruise that insured a lesson well leaned.

When Polly felt the strap, she knew her only option was to lie there and take it while doing her best to keep her cheeks loose and slack. From painful experience she knew that clenching, while instinctive, only increased the pain and bruising caused by hard strokes from the strap. She then remembered Agnes' hint and lifted up her cheeks so as to offer the strap access to her sensitive underside.

Mr. Simmons saw immediately what she was doing and thought, 'Well maybe she really is a good girl. Let's see how she takes her justly deserved punishment.'  He then raised the strap well over his head and brought it down with a full force stroke.

CCRRACKKK!!! 

The sound reverberated around the mop room and soon was accompanied by a loud:  “OWWWW!!”

Polly, being no stranger to strappings, knew from that very first stroke that she'd be getting a good one, but one she could take and hopefully hold position.

Mr. Simmons was impressed with Polly's response to the really hard first stroke and decided to reward her spirit with a reduction in severity on the remaining strokes. He continued with another five strokes, and each was met with a vocal response of increasing magnitude. His strategy of landing the strap mid-cheek was also working as a sizable bruise was beginning to form.

“Halfway, Polly.  Do you require a break?” asked the head butler. 

“No, Sir.  I don't want to think about what's to come.  Please proceed with your task so we both can put this behind us,” replied the whimpering Polly.

“Polly, your work dress is slipping down,” remarked the head butler as he raised the dress back in position. “Fold your arms across your back, Polly.  That should hold your dress in place?”

“Of course, Sir.” Polly answered as she crossed her arms in the small of her back all the while worried about keeping her hands away from her now inflamed and throbbing behind.

Mr. Simmons actually wanted a break, but would never admit he was tired.  He switched sides and measured the strap to land mid-cheek on the red, non-bruised globe.  He took the strap back and landed a solid, but not overly harsh...  CCRRACKKKK!

“YOWWWWIE!” came from Polly who continued to offer her backside in perfect position. 

After two more strokes, Mr. Simmons remembered that occasionally the mistress would ask to inspect the punished backside. He decided that the last three would be full hard strokes, so in case she asked, there would be a well bruised bottom to present.

Polly immediately recognized the increase in severity and could not help yelling out:  “YYOOOOOUUCHHHH!  IT HURTS SO BAD, MR. SIMMONS!!”

This was repeated for the last two strokes with a similar outcome and similar pleading from Polly.  But that ended the punishment. Mr. Simmons congratulated Polly on taking her punishment 'like a good girl' and sent her to bed with instructions to remain in bed an extra hour tomorrow morning.

~00O00~

Unbeknownst to either, just as Polly was getting her last three strokes, Joan Harleton was walking by the mop room on her way to the stairs leading to the 3rd floor.  She heard the loud cracks and knew immediately what was going on. She also heard Polly yelling and begging Mr. Simmons.  'God help me!' she thought, 'Is this what I'm in for?'

After hearing Polly, the now much distressed Joan continued on to the study, dressed only in an old nightgown covered by a robe.  She quietly opened the study door, entered, and then locked the door all in accordance with Alistair's directions.  Upon entering she saw that Alistair was still hunched over the master's desk, but there was something new.  A long, narrow, low, dark wood bench was now in the middle of the room.

Alistair looked up and greeted Joan and added, “Your timing is perfect. I just finished double checking all of Uncle Edmund's calculations.  He made two mistakes, but... and this is hard to believe, but they cancel each other out! Thus, the irrigation project can go ahead just as he planned.  That's good news; isn't it?”

“Yes... um... I suppose so,” responded a bewildered Joan.  Here she was facing an imminent strapping and this youth wanted to talk about... an irrigation project?

“Indeed, it is!!!  Anyhow, let's get this unpleasantness over with so we can both get to bed. If you would kindly remove your robe and lie here on the bench. This is Uncle's punishment bench so I'm not requiring you to do anything unusual.  It's this same bench my cousins will be on after church tomorrow and we have an identical punishment bench in our house,” continued Alistair in an attempt to convince Joan that she was not being singled out for any especially harsh treatment.

Joan kicked off her slippers, removed her robe and began to kneel on the bench, when Alistair held up his hand and said, “Just a moment!”  He then got a thick blanket which he doubled over and draped on the bench.  Alistair explained, “Both this room and the bench are cold. Plus, the bench is so hard that this blanket should cushion your hips while keeping you from freezing.”

Joan then lay on the bench.  Unsure what to do, she stretched out and grabbed hold of the far edge in hopes that Alistair would see no reason to tie her to the bench. Her old nightgown was faded and thin, so provided no padding as would have been the case had she worn her new warm, heavy nightgown. Again, she was hoping for “one layer” of clothing and reasoned a “heavy” layer would most likely be rejected.

In spite of her precautions, Alistair slowly raised the gown all the way up. As her thighs and pale white, slender bottom came into view, he was pleased to see she had obeyed his instructions as no undergarments appeared. Had she disobeyed, he would have removed them and sentenced her to some additional hard strokes with the strap.

“Alistair! Alistair, is this really necessary?! My gown is very thin.  Surely, I will feel the strap through it.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Joan, but all discipline in this house - actually in our house as well - is applied to bare posteriors. I'm certain you understand I'm not allowed to deviate from household rules.”  He pressed his right hand lightly over her bare slender, quivering hind cheeks.

“Alistair, what are you doing?”

“Oh, this is just my standard procedure.  It's my task to see that “wrongdoers” are punished, but I have no interest in seeing them actually harmed. I'm just looking for bruises or blisters that might indicate that a delinquent's behind is unfit for further punishment,” he replied as he continued to inspect her quivering bottom cheeks, which Joan repeatedly clenched in order to preserve some modesty.

“You mean, if you found such, I could avoid a strapping?”

“Oh no! Once a punishment is earned it is always given.  It's just that I would hold off until your behind is in better condition. It frequently happens with some of our newer staff. Often, they'll earn multiple strappings in a week and their rumps will be in a frightful state. It would just be cruel to lay on the leather to those terribly sore bottoms. So, I would postpone for a week. Now, in your case, as I expected, there is no reason for any delay. Your bottom is pristine.  Unfortunately, it will be three to four weeks before your bottom returns to this state.” 

'Oh God,' thought Joan.

“In any case, we should now proceed with haste, but before we do so, I must inform you of my expectations.  My duty is to administer your well-deserved punishment; yours is to lie still on the bench and receive it. Joan, this is important. Under no circumstances are you to leave this bench until you are given permission.  Nor are you to move your hands. You must offer up your bottom to receive the correction you deserve. I know it is hard. Further, if you continue to clench your bottom muscles, your strapping will hurt frightfully. Now, while it may be instinctive to do so, you'll find that loose, slack bottom cheeks can absorb the heavy strokes without bruising the muscles deep in your hind end.”

“Yes, Sir,” whimpered Joan now realizing her worse fears were about to come true.

Alistair grabbed the heavy strap that hung on the wall.  He knew the strap would hurt dreadfully on these slender, white cheeks, but Uncle Edmund wanted Joan to learn a lesson and like it or not, Uncle delegated the job to Alistair to see that she did.

“Joan, the moment of punishment is at hand.  The goal of which, according to my Uncle, is for you exert more control over his daughters.  Let's see, I'm thinking six strokes for my cousins making light of His Holiness this afternoon; followed by four strokes for allowing them to swim nude.   Believe me, Joan, when I say a total of ten strokes is the absolute least you can expect in this room.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Joan her heart pounding. She was anxious on the one hand to get it over with, but on the other, just dreading the start of her first corporal punishment in ten years. While Joan had experienced fairly severe punishment while at school, ten years had passed, and she didn't know what to expect.

Alistair placed the strap across Joan's tightly clenched bottom with the end resting in the hollow of the far cheek created by that intense clenching. (In spite of the advice to leave her cheeks loose, Joan tensed up her bottom muscles in apprehension of what was to come.) 

Over the last fifteen months, Alistair had evolved a different strategy than Simmons, the head butler.  Most of the staff in his household had slender bottoms similar to Joan and that was quite understandable.  Food wasn't as high a quality or as plentiful. Then with fewer staff in total, most staff found themselves running up and down stairs all day long. On bottoms similar to Joan's, Alistair would land the strap in the hollows of the far cheek and draw the strap down.  This resulted in bottom cheeks crashing into each other and set the entire behind wobbling in motion. He could tell by the shrieks and the reflex reactions that these strokes produced results. All things being equal, Alistair preferred to deliver a few very memorable strokes than to achieve similar results with long drawn-out thrashings.

One downside of his philosophy is that when a very severe punishment was necessary, it was pointless to extend his severe strokes as the delinquent's bottom would become numb. He solved this dilemma by sentencing the delinquent to a series of spankings separated by three to four days.

Anyhow, it was time to begin the “lesson”, so Alistair raised the strap high over his head and brought it down fast and hard.

WHHACKKK!!!

“YOOOWWWIEEEEE!”  screeched Joan in total disbelief of the pain she felt from the very first stroke.  So intense was the fireball of pain burning deep in her muscles, that it literally forced the air from her lungs.

Edmund was pleased that his aim was perfect and so was the response.  Immediately upon impact, Joan's hip jumped an inch or so straight up.  This was clearly a reflex reaction. Upon returning to the bench, her cheeks were wobbling and bucking up and down. These motions were all in an attempt to dissipate the intense sting which the heavy strap imparted on those reddening bottom cheeks.

Alistair followed up with two addition hard strokes that left Joan squirming and howling. This was much worse than any strapping she got at school.  Indeed, this strap hurt as much if not more than the hard cane strokes she got from the Headmaster.

Switching to the opposite side of the bench, Alistair again laid the strap on hollow of her unblemished cheek to measure distance. This was harder to do than before, because of the constant motion of the globes attempting to extinguish the fire that raged in them. Finally, once he felt confident, he delivered in quick succession three hard strokes.

Joan was beside herself with pain and began crying with copious tears falling down and landing in the blanket. She could no longer hold position and squirmed onto her side while cradling in her hands her sore bottom cheeks.

“JOAN HARLETON, THIS IS MOST UNBECOMING!” yelled Alistair. 

“Oh, it hurts! It HURTS!” cried Joan.

“Punishment is not effective if it's not memorable, Joan!  Now keep your behind straight and stop this nonsense. It's supposed to hurt,” declared an agitated Alistair as he returned to side he started on.

“Those strokes were due to your charges humiliating our beloved Bishop.  The final four are for the nude swimming. Now get into the correct position and grab hold of the bench's far edge,” commanded Alistair.

Joan knew she must obey. Failure to do so would only earn her additional punishment and with only four left... there was no point in irritating Alistair further. She grabbed hold of that far edge terrified of what Alistair would do if she let go again. She lay straight on the bench and gripped by fear of the impending hard slaps of the strap, she couldn't help, but clench tightly her bottom cheeks.

Alistair then just slammed as fast as he could four very hard strokes into Joan's behind.  Joan wailed in misery and begged him to stop, which of course, he did since he'd administered the awarded punishment. Joan howled as the strokes came down then continued after sobbing in hiccupping spasms.  Spasms, that caused her bottom to bounce up and down.

As the sobs decreased in frequency, Joan slowly reached back in an attempt to comfort her inflamed hind end. 

“Nooo!” remarked Alistair.  “Joan, you may NOT alleviate the discomfort in your hindquarters.  You just remain as you are on that bench until you get yourself under control.”

He then returned to his Uncle's desk and began putting the project papers in order.

After five or so minutes, Joan ceased crying and softly asked if she could get off the bench.

“One moment,” replied Alistair as he approached the bench to inspect Joan's swollen and welted backside.  It was evident that by morning her right cheek, where those last four strokes landed, would be black and blue - as it should be.

After allowing her to get off the bench, he began scolding, “Miss Harleton, I expected better of you. You put on a pretty awful spectacle just now. You did not take your punishment with the grace and decorum we expect of someone of your stature.  Why... why I've had fifteen-year-old kitchen helpers take harder and longer strappings far, far better than you took yours!  You had better strive to control yourself much better when on the punishment bench. You should know that my Uncle is not as lenient as I. For your antics, my Uncle would have had Mr. Simmons hold you down while he gave you at least twenty-five good ones.”

All Joan could say was, “Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, we must address your appearance. There is a pitcher of water in the corner as well as face cloth and towel.  Dry your eyes, fix your face, and do your hair. You must look as though everything is completely normal if we are to avoid raising suspicion in staff.”

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

As Joan was doing as Alistair suggested, he further instructed, “Tomorrow at 10:00 am, I wish to see again you in this room.  My Uncle and family will have gone to church so we will not be interrupted.”

Joan had repaired her face and put on her robe and slippers. She headed towards the door, turned and said, “Yes, Sir. 10:00 am tomorrow morning in this room. Good night, Sir.”  She then gave Alistair a full curtsy and left.

As she headed back to her room, many thoughts were swirling in her head: 'What is the matter with me!? Did I just give a full curtsy to a seventeen-year-old? Oh Lord, how that dreadful strap hurt! My poor behind is so sore! Perhaps when your hind cheeks are throbbing in pain, it's only normal to show a modicum of respect to those who have authority to punish you. At least, Alistair has the decency to keep this matter private, and I sure don't ever want to be put on that bench again!'

~00O00~

 

Well, there you have it.  Another Side of the Belgravia era told strictly for your viewing pleasure. More could be told, but ONLY if there is sufficient interest.

Feel free to contact author:  Tiredny@hotmail.com