Chapter 4: The development of Samantha & Charlotte’s love for each other and for spanking
The real names of Samantha and Charlotte are not a distant memory, but a secret from everyone, a reminder of circumstances that they do not want to share. A time that is lost to them, and they wish it to remain so.
Their ‘birth’ into their names happened thus…
One cold November evening, from an orphanage in London the two girls, along with a number of other orphans, were delivered to a rather bleak and grey looking cotton mill, called Abbey Mill. The day’s work for the millworkers had just finished and the sound of clogs rattled through the air. They had heard the sound of a steam whistle just as the horses drew the wagon through the mill gates. It signified the end of a shift.
The doors of the wagon were flung open by a stout man, wearing a tanned leather long coat. “Get out, and hurry up about it,” he shouted at the tired looking orphans.
And that was it. Their old life was behind them and their next, which would take them up to the age of eighteen, began with a jolt. They had sat opposite to each other all the way and a silent bond of fear had grown between them. A bond which would grow stronger, and one day discover love.
Two girls, sat near the door, were taken first, and ushered into a reception room, where they were given names beginning with A and B. They were dressed in rough grey woollen dresses, and their hair and teeth examined. So too their bodies were checked for lice. If any were found they would be hosed naked in the yard and disinfected.
Nobody walking by made a comment, but nearly all of them looked on with sympathy, After all, everyone here had gone through the same shocking introduction to Abbey Mill.
It was now the turn of the tall blonde third girl, who looked forlornly at her new friend opposite as she was pulled roughly from the cold carriage. She was given the name Charlotte, the next one was given the name Abigail. The nineteenth and twentieth girl, ‘S’ and ‘T’ alighted. Samantha and Tomassetta were born.
The years that followed were harsh, but they survived quite adequately by hard work and dedicated servitude. They were educated and fed, with Sundays off, church in the morning and time to themselves in the afternoons. Life in the summer months was bearable. Some Sunday afternoons in particular were remembered with fondness. But the winters were hard, cold and bleak. A few weaker letters of the alphabet didn’t make it through the first winter, but as time went by, the remaining twelve out of their batch made it to eighteen.
They had signed papers on the day of arrival which had made them the property of the mill. They would have signed anything to get a meal and a bed. On their eighteenth birthday they had a choice, sign up for more or leave. On a few occasions some were offered better jobs, possibly in the Master’s house, the laundry or even the offices.
Victoria, an older girl was a great influence on them, but on her eighteenth birthday she had told the master that she no longer needed him nor the mill any longer, and walked out as ‘bold as brass’. They missed her, but they were soon to find that she did not vanish from their lives completely.
On their Sundays off, the millworkers could receive visitors, so long as they had not picked up any disciplinary points. Rules were adhered to rigidly.
It was one such Sunday, six months after she had left, and two weeks before their shared birthday (the anniversary of their arrival), that Victoria had managed to get to see them. They took a walk by the river, and on to the mere. Victoria brought fresh fruit and beef sandwiches, a banquet!
She looked beautiful and well dressed. How had she managed to become so grand?
She told them how she had met a photographer whilst she had worked in a hostelry. One thing led to another and she was now a nude model, working for five photographers who paid her handsomely for her favours. Especially one, who liked to take photographs of her being spanked!
The girls giggled excitedly at this. Victoria told them all about her saucy, naughty adventures. She said she had told that photographer, Mr Trentham, that she knew of two girls who would make perfect photographic models, namely Samantha and Charlotte. The pair of them together would be especially so! In her opinion they were both very beautiful. She asked them to think about it seriously, and gave them a business letterhead and told them to hide it in a safe place. They would not be allowed another visitor for three more months. She would come back for their answer then.
She urged them to consider it favourably. With their looks, youth and figures, they could make a lot of money. If they were willing to be spanked, they could make even more money. If they would take the cane, on camera, they might even become independent young ladies!
They lay in bed that night whispering until the early hours of Monday morning. The spanking idea appealed to them both, more than either, at that time, let on to the other, and in different ways too. Their hands slipped to each other’s pussies and they reached a shared stifled orgasm in their double dormitory bed.
Their hard work, pleasing manner and all-round good disposition had not gone unnoticed. Much to the envy and jealousy of other girls, they were offered housemaid trials at the ‘big house’. This was seen as a privilege and a reward.
Work was hard and long, but nowhere near as bad as the mill work. They generally looked after clothes, polishing, dusting, and serving at the table, along with any other duties deemed appropriate by their Mistress. In other words, they could pretty much expect to do anything, from emptying a bedpan to polishing fine silver or cut glass.
They saw a lot of each other which made them happy, and although some days were spent apart on different duties they always ended up in bed together at the top of the house in a bleak little room with ill-fitting windows.
Samantha was the bolder of the two, and a month after saying yes to the three month trial at the Master’s House, temptation got the better of her. Their Mistress was out, in the local town, stocking up essential supplies and seeing her friends at the local tea rooms. Their Master was out on a medical call. Although a respected land and mill owner, his name was known in London as an eminent doctor and surgeon.
Charlotte had never been upstairs, but Samantha had when on her separate duties. She shouldn’t have, but on two previous occasions she had explored rooms she was not allowed in, and had described the bed chamber of her Mistress to the entranced eyes of Charlotte.
Miss Blunkett the housekeeper was always busy, so were the few servants, but occasionally the two girls actually got top side of their jobs and had time to chat, especially if both the Master and Mistress were out of the house.
The house was empty, other than the downstairs cooking staff. They had a rare day without the supervision of their Mistress. Miss Blunkett entrusted them to polish silver and was busy with her own tasks. What better chance would they ever have to investigate together? They left the silver after a quick rub of the cloth, and hand-in-hand crept up the grand curved staircase.
Their Mistress was probably thirty five to forty years old, a slim quite attractive woman. She had excellent taste and the two girls loved her dresses and finery. Forest green hat and coat, with tan leather gloves and boots were a sort of personal trademark, although she had a few similar outfits. She had forest green dresses, as well as reds, pinks, and many pastel shades. As they walked into her bedroom they could see dresses in abundance, jewels in pretty boxes, lace, ribbons, bodices, and undergarments. The temptation was irresistible. Within half an hour both were dressed like ladies and were dancing and laughing.
Unbeknown to them, the tea meeting had been cancelled at the last moment due to a circulating illness affecting three of their Mistress’ friends. She loved her monthly meetings at the ‘place to be seen’. She was mightily peeved at the irritating situation. It was a hot afternoon and she was going to rush straight upstairs and slip into something cool. She would then order a light afternoon lemon tea with cucumber sandwiches, and go and read in the garden, sitting in the shade of the trellis.
The Mistress walked briskly through the grand entrance hall and straight up the stairs. On reaching the landing she could hear laughter and gaiety. She trod lightly to the doorway of her bedroom and stood looking through the doorway in disbelief.
She coughed and stood still, her face stern and set in a severe frown.
The two girls froze on the spot, looked at each other and turned towards the doorway.
Their Mistress took slow strides towards them. She turned to see that many dresses had obviously been tried on and discarded quite shamefully on the floor.
The girls’ faces turned ashen. They knew they had done wrong. They knew that they were where they should not be. They had been caught red-handed. They could not speak, no excuse was possible. Whatever punishment was decreed they would have to take. They had no defence whatsoever.
At the bottom of the four poster bed stood a magnificent seat, in purple studded velvet, with four gilded lions, one at each corner. Opposite was a dressing table of equal splendour. Resting on it were two candlesticks, an oak-backed hair brush and matching mirror.
The lady of the house glided towards the dressing table, her beautiful green and cream dress with bustle rustling as she walked. She picked up the hairbrush, turned to the girls and gave them clear instructions in a soft, clear voice whilst she patted the brush against the palm of her hand.
‘‘Take off all your clothes…. I mean every stitch! Stand each side of the lion stool and bend over with your hands resting on the velvet. You are not going to forget this afternoon for a very long time.’’
Trembling, the two girls did as they were told. They had no choice. In the society they lived in they had to submit to both Master and Mistress.
Their faces were only about a foot away from each other as they bent forward naked.
‘‘On your toes both of you! And stay that way. I am going to beat your bottoms severely. I want them pushed up to meet every painful slap of my heavy brush. Do I make myself clear young ladies?”
They nodded their response, too frightened to speak. Tearful eyes were locked on each other as they both lifted another two inches.
Their Mistress walked to Charlotte first. The cold oak back of the brush caressed her cheeks, then, without warning her beating began,
Smack, spank, whack, crack, smack!
The blows came hard and fast, with absolutely no mercy.
Charlotte looked into her friends eyes for comfort and found it. But her own thoughts surprised her…
‘Oh the pain! It burns through my rump with every stroke. It burns like a fire. Oh! It hurts so much. I need to escape from it. I need to rub my bottom and beg her to stop, but I know I mustn’t. Yet what is this feeling in my crotch, this tingling, and this wetness? Oh stop, please stop…no don’t, don’t stop! Oh every burning hard smack feels like my bottom is being cut deep, the heat, the burning, oh my God when will it end? I don’t want it to end! The heat has come through to my tummy. The pain is magnificent! The submission is delicious. Oh my goodness, my pussy is throbbing, and I desperately need to rub my cunt. Oh my bottom, no more please, please no more! Oh! just a few more. Oh God yes, yes!’
The thrashing ended and her mistress walked around to behind Samantha, who was looking deep into Charlotte’s eyes, with longing, and hunger. She then looked into her friend’s eyes for comfort as she had done hers, and also found it. The cool oak back of the brush stroked her cheeks, as it had done to Charlotte, and then started to land very noisily across Samantha’s bottom.
Smack, crack, spank, whack, spank!
The blows came hard and fast once more, again with no mercy.
Keeping her lustful eyes fixed on her friend’s equally lustful returned gaze, she took her punishment well, but like Charlotte her thoughts also surprised her…
‘I wish I was doing this to someone. Oh the pain, to inflict such pain on an upturned delightful rump must be amazing! Oh it burns so much, yet it seeps into my soul. It is reaching my pussy. I wish I was thrashing Charlotte’s fine bottom. Oh God this hurts, no more please, please, but maybe a little. Oh I am so glad I know how it feels. I want to be the cause of feelings like this. I wish people were watching, I wish we were at Mistress’s dinner party and all the gentlemen and ladies were stood looking. I want to rub, I want to beg, but if it was me delivering the thrashing, I would double it! Oh God, I am almost coming. This is so surprising, so different to what I expected. Oh God it hurts, please, please stop Mistress! I want someone to beg me to stop. I want Charlotte to beg me to do this and beg me to stop. I want to be called Mistress!’
‘Now stay like that, and think about what you have done, and don’t ever do it again, or it will be my riding crop, in the dining room, before everyone in the household!’
She walked out with all their clothes, and they heard her go downstairs.
Charlotte leaned forward and kissed her friend. She kissed her back, passionately.
Charlotte whispered. “‘Will you rub my bottom better later?’’
Samantha whispered back. ‘‘Only if you rub mine, too.’’
They kept quiet then, and gazed into each other’s eyes.
Their Mistress returned, and dismissed them. Then closing the door, lay on the bed, lifted her dress and used the handle of her oak back brush to pleasure herself to orgasm.
The two girls, naked, made their way to see the housekeeper to get their clothes back. The shame of that walk and the stares they received lived with them forever.
Click here for chapter five…