It was six in the morning, eight hours after the girls had begun to run when Miss Blunkett walked by their room ringing the bell. ‘Come on, get up, I can’t hear much movement in there. If you are sore and stiff it’s your own fault! Come on, there is work to be done!’
Silence greeted her shouts, so she opened the door. The room was empty, all trace of the two girls had gone, it was as if they had been spirited away. She had no choice but to raise the alarm, she would be beaten black and blue if she didn’t. She clasped her hands together, looked to the heavens and whispered ‘Forgive me girls, oh my lovely girls, run for your lives!’ Then she rang the bell and shouted loudly. ‘We have runaways! We have runaways!’
The Master and Mistress awoke with a start, dressed quickly and went to find out what the commotion was. On hearing the news anger swelled rapidly inside them. They both knew instantly that they now had an excuse to whip them badly, all they had to do was catch them. Questions were asked about what time they were last seen, and if anyone knew where they might go.
News spread fast throughout the mill and the servants. They felt fear for the two young girls, they willed them to escape.
The girls became tired but still kept running, fear was their fuel, they had kept to the road as much as they could, the surface was hard and would show no signs of footprints. A couple of times they had hid behind trees as carriages or riders went by. They knew that their maids’ attire was a give away, and they also knew that a reward would be offered, they felt vulnerable. Their plan was to get to the town of the photographer, hide until dark, then seek out the address and beg for mercy using Victoria’s name.
The plan was working well, after hiding in a barn they kept to the shadows, and crept along the edge of the streets. Both were terrified of capture and what would ensue, but managed to keep going, thirsty and dirty. Twilight had come and gone, it was almost dark.
They heard the dreaded word ‘runaway’ mentioned occasionally by people who passed by, news had spread, and soon they recognised the man who had first brought them to the mill, standing on a box, in the main square, under a gas lamp. ‘The Mill has two runaways, as far as we know they are dressed in their grey coats and black and white maids attire. They’ll be looking for help either in this town or another. We are offering a handsome reward to the finders!’
They only had one corner to sneak around and they were on the street they needed. A crowd gathered and listened to the man, who gave out vile accusations of theft and cruelty to younger innocent girls. They needed to be taught a lesson he said, one that they will never forget, help us catch these wretches and save them from a life of crime! Let us make an example of them in this town square!
The girls crept slowly, keeping away from the gas lamps as best they could and carefully tucking themselves into the dark edge of the shop fronts, under the overhangs. All the people were looking to the man, inadvertently he had given them the cover they needed. Once around the corner they ran to ‘Mr. Trentham’s Photographic Emporium’ and knocked loudly on his shop door.
The mill’s overseer had stopped shouting his lies, and people had soon dispersed. Some which they could see in the distance were coming towards them!
Lights came on in the shop and a young handsome man in his early thirties opened the door, stood behind him was Victoria! ‘Come in, come in!’ She shouted. The man looked shocked and bemused but because Victoria obviously knew them, he let them in.
They had escaped! Just!! Curtains were quickly drawn and the girls ushered into the back room.
Victoria soon put paid to the lies the man might hear, and assured him of the girl’s good name. Hot tea, soup and bread were given. Soon afterwards both were tucked up in a soft bed.
Obviously it would cost money to keep them hidden a while, and they had none to offer, but they had come with an open mind and knew what they had to do to survive. So their life of sexual adventure began. In return for naked pictures of the two firm breasted, plump bottomed, slim girls, they would get fed, and clothed.
Weeks passed by, they felt safe and hidden in their room above the studio. With its own little fireplace, and pictures on the walls, they felt pleased and happy. Their love grew day by day. Also by night, one night in particular became a fond treasured memory. They lay in bed, Charlotte on her back naked, and Debbie on her tummy, with her face only inches away from her friend’s pussy, her fingers stretched and toyed with the pubic hair.
An oil lamp was turned down low, rain hit the windows, they both felt warm, safe and able to relax.
Charlotte looked to her friend and asked a question. ‘What did you mean when you said that being my Domme is all about respect?’
‘I knew you’d ask me about that, but you took longer than I expected.’ Smiled samantha. Her smile could melt anyone’s heart easily.
‘Sorry, but tell me please.’
‘It’s only my interpretation, but this is how I would like to be your Domme, and how I would like you to be my submissive. First I would have to work out what you like, also what you don’t like but would be willing to do for me, and what you wouldn’t do at all. I’d want to know your thoughts on being punished and how. I would like to know all about your submissive feelings and just how you would like to submit to me. Would you adore me and be like a lap dog? Would you perform naughty acts for me? Would you let me use my mouth and tongue down there, would you use yours on me? What about spanking, I mean hand only? Or maybe canes and paddles? How could I make your submission be delicious. We have so many things to explore together!’
‘Yes, it seems we do.’ Answered a curious, wide eyed Charlotte.
Samantha continued. ‘Then I would learn how to please you with what I have learned. How to include pain and fear and respect limits. That is the key word, respect. I want you to fear the cane, and flinch at the thought of pain, yet at the same time long for it.’ She opened her legs at this point to allow Charlotte’s fingers easy entry.
Soon a loud enthusiastic orgasm had been reached. Talking like this was to become a private enjoyment on many occasions, they were young with much to explore and learn.
‘Finger me now.’ Charlotte asked and started to roll over.
‘Stop! Let this be my first real command, don’t make it so easy, nor so ordinary. Beg me, get on the floor and beg me.’
‘If this is our first exploration, shall I call you Mistress?’
‘Yes, I would like that a lot.’
She slid to the floor and with the firelight glowing on her naked body she crawled to her Mistress. She knelt before her and spoke in a soft, weak, needy way. ‘Mistress, please my beautiful Mistress, I need to feel your fingers inside me, and the flat of your hand on my bottom, hard Mistress.’
‘You learn quickly, don’t you?’
‘I hope so Mistress, because if I don’t, then I expect to be caned Mistress, or have your hairbrush on my cheeks Mistress. I like the idea of being punished by you very much Mistress. My bottom is yours Mistress.’
Samantha moved, and sat at the end of the bed. ‘Over my knee, you needy submissive slut! And there is no need to use the word Mistress quite so much.’
‘Yes Mistress.’ She stood and lowered herself over her Mistresses knee. Her toes pushed into the floor, as did her fingertips.
Starting slowly, and quite gently, Samantha began to spank the shapely bottom over her knee. Her cheeks soon danced in the firelight. ‘Describe your feelings to me Charlotte, I need to know what you are thinking.’
‘Oh yes I will, and in return Mistress, please describe yours!’
The spanking continued with the description of a Domme and sub being spoken. It was an erotic moment.
‘I love the noise as you spank me. I love the thought of being a naughty girl over your lap. I imagine it being in the street! With people watching me get spanked. I want to please you, I want you to find my bottom the most spankable, the curviest and most beautiful bright red well spanked bobbing bottom in the world. The warmth from your smacks are perfect, it is now seeping through to my pussy. I can feel myself starting to climax as I tighten and loosen my muscles around my clitoris. I need more pain, I want faster spanks, oh god, spank me please mistress spank me hard and fast!’
‘And I want to turn your bottom bright red, I want to see it move and wriggle. I feel in control of you and love it. I will finish only when I am satisfied and want you to know this. A Domme must always decide,man ever the submissive. I delight in the idea that you cannot escape. I love holding your waist tight and seeing your legs kick. I want you to be humiliated, to be seen in this position. I want people to envy me and want me to do it to them. I want to spank harder and faster!’
Together they gave and received the spanking.
Charlotte came to her climax on Samantha’s knee to the sound of hard spanks.
Afterwards they kissed and embraced, their love delved deeply to unchartered depths. As did their wet slippery fingers.
Two more orgasms followed.
Their new found career developed at the same speed, just like the photographs in the dark room. It changed direction too, once the bruises of their beating had subsided, they spoke to Victoria again, and asked about what she had said to them, about being spanked on camera. They were happy for board and lodgings, but could they actually make money if they did this. They let it be known that they wanted to do this, because it was what they did in their private room, they revealed much to an absorbed Victoria.
Victoria was quite an enigma, she often caught the train to London to see some people from her ‘old life’ as she called it. She would not tell the girls …’yet’ she would often tantalise the girls with. ‘But one day soon I will tell you of my adventure!”
The reason she went to London was to sell Mr Trentham’s naughty photographs, and a dear old friend of hers was a good customer who sold lots of them at her outlet.
Spanking! Lots of delicious spankings were coming their way, to be recorded on photographs. Some of the photographs were to find their way to London, and into to the hands of her old friend, called Abigail Hayes, who ran a brothel of sorts called ‘The Inveigle’. She was looking for photographs to adorn her walls. She sold photographs of her girls from her shop in her theatre, on Saturday nights. Photographs of her stars, signed. She wanted the rooms to have themes, predominantly consisting of bondage, submission, dominance, and masochism.
The photo shoot which first put them in popular demand took place with the two girls and Victoria about six weeks after their escape. They had learned the rudiments of photographic, and pornographic shoots quickly, they soon began to offer their own ideas.
It was one such idea that soon caught Abigail’s attention when she saw the results of their work.
The photographer had finished doing family portraits for the morning, it was time to set the stage for one of his ‘special’ shoots. He did this at noon, when the light shone through the skylights to embrace the studio. A few “weeks ago it had been him who had instructed the girls, but since then he had been tactfully told that his expertise in lighting and the art of producing a good photo was his forte. Now the ideas of their content, came from them. They had tried a few of their ideas over the past weeks, and it was soon apparent that their imagination was far superior.
‘Let’s produce a set of photographs where two girls submit to their Mistress. Let her use them and in return let’s make it obvious that they love it, every bit of it, let us show the world how beautiful a relationship like that can be.’
All he could do was swallow and nod enthusiastically in agreement.
Victoria had agreed to dress as they decided and be a submissive to Samantha along with Charlotte.
What followed was magnificent, the two girls were dressed in camisole tops, this had the effect of covering their breasts in a loose way, protected, but only just. They were free to swing and move naturally. Charlotte had a deep mauve colour camisole, and Victoria a black one. Both wore knickerbockers in plain white, frilled at the knee. Striped stockings were the fashion of Parisian Bawdy Houses, and the photographer had managed to get some. Mauve and white striped for Charlotte black and white for Victoria.
‘What a shame they will only be seen in sepia’, commented Mr. Trentham. He loved the authority that title gave him. Not that they ever needed reminding whose shop it was, but all the same, it pleased him to be shown such respect.
‘Not if we colour them in!’ Suggested an inspired Samantha.
‘Actually, if I print them on the right paper, that might be possible! Samantha you are a genius!’
‘Oh. Thank you, kind Sir!’
Such was the light friendly atmosphere they had become used too, jollity was never far from the camera lens.
Both the girls wore ankle length brown boots, and shawls over their shoulders. They smouldered sexuality.
Samantha walked from behind the screen and the others fell silent at her aurora. She commanded everyone in the room with her gaze. Even Mr.Trentham was under her spell.
She was dressed in a long bottle green, almost black cloak with a hood, underneath which she wore a tight corset which was pink and black striped. Her knickers were short, and she too wore stockings, black ones. The flash of thigh between stocking top and knicker leg was stupifyingly gorgeous. She had leather gloves and matching black boots. A riding crop was in her right hand, and she slapped it against the palm of the left.
She suggested that the shadows of her approaching in the cloak, would look sexual and menacing, and give the scene a dark gothic atmosphere, as if it was in a large old house.
The two girls glanced at each other, both thought of the mysterious black cellar…back at the house they had fled. Imagine if Samantha was the Mistress of that house. They would never have left!
‘Oh wonderful marvellous, where do you get these ideas from? I have some gothic backdrops, we could use those.’ Mt Trentham was almost dancing in delight.
‘We talk at night and make stories up.’ Charlotte told him.
‘Ohh.’ This was the only reply he could utter, his cock was held firm in his hand as he was under the black sheet, covering him and the camera.
The shoot produced a wonderful set of glass negatives.
Samantha hung a length of thick cord from an overhanging beam and tied the girls up and caned them. She then stood between them looking superior as they were bent over on each side, their moist lips on view. They went over her lap, between her legs, under her, and over her. She spanked, she flogged and she caned. They crawled and begged and masturbated before her. To finish she used the latest Victorian massager on them both. The final shots had them spreading her legs and licking her to orgasm.
The three girls handled and talked about the wonderful didlo afterwards, whilst Mr Trentham packed his expensive photographic equipment away. Many a Victorian young woman or even old spinster had now come across these. There were many designs, and the excuse for the doctors using them on their female patients was what was classed as hysteria. Nowadays it would be classed as depression or anxiety, and the cure was pelvic massage leading to ‘Paroxysm,’ now known as the female orgasm. Of course the illness was prone to repetition and repeated treatment was required, hence, to free the doctor’s time, these many inventions were patented and intended for self help with the problem. Probably the most fabulous was the steam driven one developed by an American, Doctor George Taylor. Doctors in the day were actually trained in their use, since they were first heard of in 1869. The first electrical vibrators appeared in the 1880’s.
(note…all that was fact.)
The photographer walked back in and disturbed their intimate conversation. He praised them highly, and together they felt proud and aroused. Victoria could hardly wait for Mr. Trentham’s cock to slide in deep and satisfy her when in their room that night.
Charlotte and Samantha needed to eat each other, and they did not want to wait, but wait they did. Mr Trentham was a little obsessive about things being kept in order and they had to wait for A while as they cleared away.
As they were doing so Mr Trentham went to the shop and turned the sign to open again, just in case someone popped in.
Someone did, almost straight away.
The girls stopped instantly as they recognised two voices. Their hearts beat fast, beads of sweat bubbled up on their brow, they began to shake. Mr Trentham quaked too.
The Doctor asked if Mr Trentham was ill, he said he looked pale. It took all his strength to reply and keep conversation going. They discussed a portrait of the fine couple, and something quite unusual. It seemed that Lady Jacqueline had found a delightful place to frequent on her trips to London with her husband. Masquerade masks were all the rage and she wanted some photographs of her wearing her black ones.
She said that she would pop in to finalise arrangements in a few day, and would most likely have more work for him if his work was satisfactory.
It was time to run again. This was too much of a coincidence, they would almost certainly use a photographer in London, not some small provincial one.
And they were right. Only days after their escape Lady Jacqueline had found the other piece of paper in their old room, with this address on.
London was not that far away, it seemed to beckon them. Mr. Trentham would still be able to produce photographs for them, he had a couple of London Studios he could use which belonged to friends. Victoria told the girls of her exciting place. ‘Let me take a set of these photographs when they are coloured and framed to someone I know. I think the girls are ready to meet a lady named Abigail, she’s lovely, and was like a mother to me for months, before I met this handsome man, she could very well be the same for you!’
Mr Trentham blushed. But he agreed that this visit from the Doctor and his Lady, made them suddenly feel too close for comfort, it certainly was time to put distance between the girls and this locality. Both him and Victoria had talked of spending more time in the big smoke, maybe they might do so now. Especially now the little group had bonded so well.
But for now, it seemed imperative to get his new found stars away from here.
The recent account of a ghastly murder of a prostitute in London had spooked him though. ‘Make sure you are safely lodged, I can pay you an advance, it will not be long now before money will be filling your purse. What I saw through the lens today testifies to that!”
And so a delightful respite came to an end, London beckoned, so did a delightful protective woman, and ‘The Inveigle’.