Sunday, 30 June 2013

Sunday, June 30, 2013 -


by Frank Martinet
Published: Jun 19, 2013
Words: 32,699
Category: general
Orientation: M/F
Click HERE for further details and purchase options.

I arrived at the DeMarcco mansion in late August. Summer was already fading into fall as winter comes early in such a northern province. I found the castle cold and dark and foreboding, despite the presence of the Master, who was young and handsome and extremely wealthy. He and his pretty bride were renowned for their lavish parties and generosity, and anyone in the country, including the Duke of Kennington, was always pleased to receive an invitation.

I viewed my change of employers as a tremendous advancement, for a recommendation by the DeMarcco's would secure me a position anywhere I wanted. I felt eminently grateful to dear Molly Wells for recommending me, our childhood disagreements forgotten and forgiven with this single generous gesture. Had I known the true nature of her generosity, however, I would have rewarded her face with a slap from my palm.

On just the third day in my new position I had the opportunity to witness for myself the situation I had instilled myself into. It was a cold, blustery morning, with a touch of fog settling over the hills. I had started a fire in the kitchen before dawn and was helping the cook prepare the breakfast when I heard a shriek of pain and horribly angry voice shouting.

I glanced at the cook but she continued her work unabated, and I looked nervously behind me as the sounds came closer. The door burst open and to my surprise it was the Mistress herself who entered, her sleeping garments covered with a thick robe, cruelly dragging a weeping, red-faced girl by the earlobe. I recognized the girl as one of the chambermaids, Mary, by name. She was rather vapid and dense, if I recalled her correctly, and smitten with one of the groomsmen.

The Mistress strode angrily into the kitchen and ordered the cook to fetch "the strap and be quick about it!" The cook obeyed instantly, heading across the room, while the pitiful girl began to wail and beg for mercy.

"Shut your mouth you lazy whore!" scolded the petite lady, her black eyes flashing brightly with arrogance and fury. "How dare you enter your Mistress' quarters without knocking!"

"But I did knock, Ma'am," sobbed the girl. "I knocked three times, and loudly, too, you must 'ave 'eard!"

"The impertinence!" screamed the Mistress, her mouth shaping into a snarl that distorted her graceful lips into something quite repulsive. "How dare you call me a liar! You shall get the cane for that! Cook! Bring me the cane instead of the strap! This sorry thing needs a taste of real discipline."

The cook obeyed, replacing the just removed strap back on its hook and returning with a long, white, crock-handled cane, slightly bent from years of use. I watched, petrified with terror, as the cook handed this terrible instrument of punishment to the furious lady who took it in her hands with a look of relish that frightened me beyond motion or thought.