Chapter Four

 

 

They had returned to his house on the Wednesday, when she had received her first dreadful initiation but since then, apart from the cold water treatment and the two nightly rituals of homage and massage, she had no intimate contact with him. By Friday she was becoming suspicious that there was a reason behind this and on Saturday evening she learned that her fears were not unfounded.

During the day they had driven over to see her father who was now looking very poorly indeed and was obviously harassed by the sale of the house. Edward kindly offered any assistance he could give, including sending servants over to help with the packing etc. Jane’s heart sank when she learned that her father had now decided to go and live in Chester with his sole remaining brother. This was such a long way away so from now on she would be able to see very little of him. She was very quiet and downcast on the drive back home.

They had a pleasant enough dinner and after the food and wine she began to feel better. They left the dining room, went into the sitting room, each taking a comfortable chair.

“I want to talk to you, Jane,” he said. She immediately had a foreboding about this and started to feel tense. He seemed not to notice this. “When you lived with your father, how did you spend your Sundays?”

“Firstly we went to church in the morning.”

He frowned. “There will be none of that,” he said curtly, “and?”

“Well, after lunch we would sometimes walk in the garden for a little or I would read to Father and play some music. Generally it was a quiet day.”

“In this house,” he explained, “the servants serve and clear away breakfast and then have the remainder of the day free to go out or visit friends or family. A cold luncheon is left in the dining room and they are not expected to return to the house until it is time to prepare dinner. So you see, we shall have the best part of the day to enjoy at our leisure.” He emphasised the word ‘enjoy’ which she heard with some trepidation.

The he continued. “Do you believe in discipline, Jane?”

“Yes, well, to some extent,” she answered.

“I am a very firm believer in it,” he stated emphatically, “and particularly in preventive discipline.” She looked a little puzzled. “My theory is that if discipline is given regularly, in small amounts, it should remind the recipients that they must not be disobedient and then harsher discipline should not be warranted. As Sunday is a relatively free day, I propose to conduct a routine discipline procedure. This will of course commence with your early cold water treatment which will last for a little longer than on weekdays. Then you will replace your robe and come to my room and we will take it from there. Now, do you wish for coffee?”

“No, I think it keeps me awake.”

“Well then, another warm drink to soothe you. I will send one of the maids up with hot milk. If you would like to retire now, I shall come to your room in about half an hour as I have a few things I wish to do before retiring.”

She sipped her milk, mulling over in her mind what he had been saying earlier. Goodness only knows what was in store for her.

“You look tired,” he said when he came in. “And I want you rested for the pleasurable day we should have tomorrow so I shall give you your massage lying down.” He opened the top of her night dress and proceeded to do this and then pulled himself up on the bed until his penis was in a line with her face. “Now turn your head and carry out your nightly homage.” She did so and thankfully it did not last very long. She felt that tonight’s shorter sessions were due to him saving his energies until tomorrow. Briefly kissing her goodnight, he left her. She did not get to sleep very easily. Anticipation of the unknown was filling her with dread, as indeed he had intended it should but eventually tiredness overcame her and she dropped off to sleep.

In the morning she was awakened by the maid telling her that breakfast was ready in the adjoining room so she did not take her bath, just quickly washed her hands and face, put on a robe and went into breakfast. She did not dare to look at him throughout the meal.

Having cleared the remnants of the meal away, the maid enquired if it would be convenient for the servants to go off duty. Edward ensured that they had left a cold luncheon ready and then added; “please make sure that the main door is closed firmly behind you.” He handed Jane a newspaper and continued to read his for a while. Presently he put it down, saying, “I presume that as you woke so late, you have not yet had your bath.”

“No.”

“Well, we will go to the bathroom together.”

He ran the water for her and tested the water temperature. She took off her robe and stepped in.

She still felt embarrassed to be completely naked in front of him. What seemed to be tolerable by the dim light of the evening became something else in broad daylight. She sat down and began to soap herself. Edward, who had bathed and shaved earlier came and took the soap from her.

“I will do that.”

He gently began to smooth it all over her body, running his slippery hands over her breasts, her belly and down between her thighs. Strangely enough she found this quite pleasurable. She had found that in the course of every day life, when he was not practising one of his rituals, he could be kind and considerate and there were times when she really quite liked him. He had a sense of humour and that combined with the occasional twinkle in his eye, she, rather against her will, found rather endearing.

He seemed to be in a very good mood now, deliberately letting the soap slip and then diving with his hand to retrieve it from between her thighs and they both laughed together. Eventually he said,

“The water is getting cool and I think it is time for your cold water treatment.” She stood up and he put a huge towel round her, patting her dry. Then pulling the top part of the towel down to expose her breasts, he went over to the cupboard and took out the appliance. This time the treatment went on for a longer period and her aching breasts became so numb that she felt they would never thaw out. After he had dried her she realised that this had been done so that he would swish her breasts with the implement with more strokes than usual and that this was the start of the Sunday discipline.

“Put on your robe and come to my room.” His voice had become strict once more. This was a well lit room but not quite so bright and sunny as her own and the masculine decor and leather upholstery gave it a slightly menacing feel. There was a large mirror on one wall and another in a corner on a stand. He too had a mirrored headboard. Taking off her robe he said

“Now we will continue with the rest of the discipline, but let me first handle your breasts.” They were still tingling from the swishing and he stood as if admiring his handiwork. “Yes, they are progressing nicely. Do you feel they are more sensitive?”

She hesitated and supposed she had better tell the truth. “Well, yes.”

“Tell me what kind of sensation you feel.”

“When you touch my nipples I feel a sort of thrill run down my body.”

“Good, I had noticed that they hardened. We must see if we can improve on that. Now I want you to go and bend over the bed.”

His bed was higher and firmer than her own and she blushed to think what a picture she must present in this position. He ran his hands over the lower cheeks.

“What a lovely sight and it will look so much better when reddened.” He went to the cupboard and brought out a thin flexible cane which he swished through the air.

“Oh no! “ she protested.

“Oh yes! “ he replied. “This is all part of the discipline. Now bend over further so that your bottom is quite high and in the right position for caning. No, push it up higher than that. I think we will start with fifty strokes and I wish you to count them.” He brought the cane down sharply across her buttocks.

“Oh! “ she yelled.

“I said count, not yell, now go on - start counting.”

In a wavering voice she went on “two, three, four” until after what seemed like hours she reached fifty. After the first thirty she had begun to feel a slight immunity to the pain and as her cheeks warmed, the glow seemed in a way to be quite pleasant. He stopped caning and she stopped counting.

“Now I want you to go over and stand facing the wall in front of the mirror.” She felt embarrassed and it was even worse when she realised that he could see her front in the large mirror as well as revelling in the increased rubefaction of her behind. He pulled over the mirror on the stand and positioned it so that she too could see her rear view. She wanted to hide her face when she saw in the mirror that he had seated himself in a chair and was viewing the colour increase with extreme satisfaction.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Burning, smarting.” she replied.

“But has it excited you?” he enquired.

“No. Not really.”

“I have a way of telling whether or not you are excited,” he laughed. He got up and came over to her. “Part your legs a little.” As she did so he pushed his finger into her vagina. “Well, it is a little moist but you are not yet sufficiently excited: when you are, you will become much wetter. I think a few more strokes are called for. Stay where you are so you can watch me cane you.” As he renewed his attention to her buttocks she did indeed feel herself becoming excited and after a further fifty quick strokes he pronounced her wet enough. Then he said, “Now my dear, as you have been a good girl, we will come to the part which you will enjoy. Go and lie on the bed.”

He pulled the curtains so that there was no light shining in her eyes and then lying down beside her, he began to gently finger the little knob at the top of her cleft. She felt a thrill shoot through her body which increased with every movement he made. She started to move her hips, partly to ease the stinging of her buttocks and partly with pleasure at this new sensation. “Do you like that?” he asked.

“Oh yes, but what are you doing?”

“This is called clitoral stimulation, it is all part of the discipline but it is a nice part which you should enjoy.” He continued to finger, moving slowly up and down then round and round, each time touching the little tip at the top of her vagina. She found herself getting more and more excited and started to emit little moans.

“You are enjoying that, aren’t you?” he asked. Her only response was to moan louder. “Good. We will continue and see if you can climax.”

He gradually increased the speed of the manipulation and she felt a great wave of excitement building within her. Suddenly she felt as if a great explosion had occurred both in her head and her body and a feeling of indescribable ecstasy swept over her. She tossed her head from side to side, her body convulsed and her cries became louder. This lasted for ten to twelve seconds and all the time he felt the contractions deep in her body against his finger. Gradually it subsided and she lay still, her breath still coming in gasps. He continued moving his finger slowly and then eventually withdrew and took her in his arms.

“What happened?” she asked.

“That, my dear Jane, was an orgasm and every time you are a good girl I shall ensure that you have one.” For the first time he felt some emotion for her other than lust and he kissed her gently to which she responded. He bent his head and began to kiss and suck her nipples and to her surprise she began to feel aroused once more. He took her hand and placed it on his great throbbing phallus.

“See what you have done to me, are you ready to receive it now?”

“Please don’t hurt me this time,” she begged. “It has all been such a wonderful experience and I do not want anything to spoil it.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He mounted her and penetrated gently but deeply into her wet and welcoming body. Because she had experienced her own climax, she was quite happy to feel his great rod thrusting in and out and she became even wetter. Although he had exerted control for such a long time, he was an experienced and ardent lover and he continued the movements for the best part of an hour. Then suddenly he felt he could control it no longer and he began to push harder and more rapidly. She moved her hips up to meet him and did not cry out even when he was inserted to his fullest extent. After he had gushed into her, he lay there holding her close for a few minutes. Then he withdrew and lay beside her, taking her hand.

After a while he looked at the clock.

“That has taken all the morning,” he said. “Perhaps we had better go and have lunch now.” They both washed quickly and went downstairs together and, for the first time since their marriage, she felt some unity with him.

There were large silver platters of cold meats on the sideboard to which Edward did justice. She, however, took very little and tended to toy with it.

“You must try and eat, Jane. You have to keep up your strength, you know,” he said with a small smile and poured her a little wine. She tried to get the food down but every time she looked at him and caught the expression in his eyes, the food seemed to stick in her throat. She knew that he wanted her again and rather against her will, felt that want was reciprocated. They finished lunch and as they rose from the table he took her hand. “Come into the sitting room.”

“But we are not dressed,” she replied.

“Does it matter? There is no-one else in the house.” He led her over to the chaise-lounge which was situated near to the fireplace, with once again a huge mirror sited to one side. He threw some more logs on the fire and as they flared up he removed her robe and looked at her in the flickering light. She was indeed beautiful with a near perfect body and her long, dark hair falling over her shoulders.

He pushed her back against the head of the chaise-lounge, lifted her legs onto it and sat down on one side facing her. He started to caress her, letting his hand roam from her breasts downwards and then up again. Once more she felt a thrill run through her. His hand went lower and he pushed his finger into her vagina.

“You are dry again,” he said. “It seems to me that you need to be warmed up once more before you become wet enough.” He lifted her up, put her over his knee and started to spank her, giving her only a few quick slaps but it was sufficient to have the necessary effect.

Whilst she lay there she could feel the bulge beneath his robe but his attention was fixed on her. He tested her again.

“Ah, you are ready now.” He quickly turned her over and went to work on her clitoris. After a few minutes he said “Look into the mirror and watch me fingering you, that should add to your pleasure.” Fighting back embarrassment, she turned her head and watching his finger busily moving between her parted lower lips triggered her of once more and, as she moaned, he felt the delightful twitching inside her.

“You have done it again,” she gasped.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

“There is not room for both of us on here,” he laughed as he pulled her down onto the rug in front of the fire. Instinctively she opened her legs. “Do you want me?” Her reply was to put her arms round him and pulled him close. He felt pleased but also a little disturbed at what seemed to him was a show of affection rather than passion. The latter he was accustomed to as invariably, sooner or later, he had always aroused this in the women he had taken but he had never expected that with his perverted habits anyone would show him affection and certainly not love. It was true that many of the more sophisticated women in his past had made this pretence but this was usually to obtain gifts from him and he had been well aware of their true feelings but it suited his purpose to join in the pretence.

He moved into her, his strokes long and slow whilst the firelight played over their bodies. His first climax had removed the compulsion to come and this more leisurely performance was gratifying in a different way. She was totally relaxed now and began slowly to move her hips up towards him. This quickened his pace and suddenly his control was gone and he reached his climax once more.

He lay quite still in her for a few minutes before he withdrew and for those few minutes he felt almost as if they were lovers and not the master with the subservient wife he was trying to make her. Eventually he pulled her up.

“We must go upstairs before the servants return.” They were smiling at each other as they left the room.

Later on, while dressing for dinner, he thought over the details of everything which had occurred during the day. If I am not careful, he thought, emotion could overcome my original intention to break her in.

Looking at him across the dining room table she saw only the strict man she had come to know and any semblance of the tenderness which he had shown in the afternoon seemed to have disappeared and his face conveyed only its usual inscrutable expression. Conversation over dinner was polite and although she was by now very tired he gave no indication that he was willing that they should retire. She had thought that perhaps, after today’s activities, he would permit her to go straight to sleep but with his tap on the door she realised with a sinking heart that the two nightly routines had to be carried out.

The next couple of weeks went by amicably enough and in a strange way she began to look forward to Sundays when, in spite of the discipline, she felt closer to him. One afternoon, however, she made a mistake that once more made him angry with her.

It was quite a pleasant day in spite of there being rather a chilly breeze.

“Shall we walk round the garden, Jane?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be lovely. I will just fetch a shawl.” As she was wearing little in the way of undergarments in accordance with his laid down instructions, she put on her long cambric drawers, thinking that she needed the extra warmth.

The garden comprised several acres and as they strolled round, commenting on the flowers he asked her if there were any alterations or additions which she would like the gardener to carry out.

“A herb garden might be a good idea” she suggested and he agreed.

They reached the end of the garden where, screened by trees, stood a pretty gazebo.

“Come and look in her, it is sheltered from the wind” he said. She was about to rest on one of the wooden seats when he said “No. Stand by the wall. Now raise your skirt.” When he saw the drawers his look changed. “I told you never to wear underwear when you are with me” he snapped. “If you remember the oath said that your body must be available to me at all times.”

“But” she stammered. “We are not in the house and it is rather chilly.”

“That is no excuse. Take them off.” Her fingers fumbled with the drawstring around her waist but she succeeded only in making the knot even tighter. “Hold your skirt up higher.” With a sharp tug he broke the string, nearly cutting her waist. “Step out of them. Now come here.” he commanded unbuttoning his trousers. He picked her up, forced her legs round his waist and jammed his phallus hard into her. From this angle the insertion was very deep and she cried out in pain as he continued to jab away inside her. “It’s no use crying out, no-one will hear you.” He continued even harder.

He was so controlled that he could do this without climaxing. He lifted her off and she sat on the seat sobbing. “That will teach you to disobey me. Now wipe those tears away. The servants must not see anything is amiss.” He tossed her drawers at her and strode back to the house, leaving her to trail behind him.