Dec 052017
 

Dick, Taste the Cane!!

As Dick stepped out of the shower he twisted to view his right buttock in the mirror, and there, still perfectly clear, were two parallel lines – the final remnants of his ‘taste the cane’ and the striping he had received from Mistress Jane’s rather more severe canes. Still visible after 28 days.

A month earlier, Dick had been building up to his little treat for some time, desperately curious to find out just how intense it would feel, but always concerned lest the resulting tell-tale marks leave him with some explaining to do at home. But after over a year in waiting, the opportunity presented itself with 10 days “healing time” between cane and home. And so, Dick had made his appointment and at the allotted time was naked and arranged, arse in the air, over MJ’s new whipping bench.

In the months prior to this event, Dick had danced around the issue, experimenting with cane strokes to the hand (light cane and relatively gentle strokes to ensure no risk of injury), and had indulged too in a little bastinado (similarly injury risk averse)… the latter pushing Dick to his limits… but no-where near satisfying his curiosity about the cane. Dick had also “enjoyed” several increasingly severe thrashings with MJ’s tawses and straps (recorded on earlier blogs), under the guise of general bruising, which so far too had not prompted any unwanted conversations at home.

Often, ahead of these encounters Dick would write to Jane to encourage her… not… to be too gentle, and perhaps to suggest a minimum number (which had squeezed into 3 figures) on more than one occasion. And on a suitably warmed up buttock, Jane had treated Dick to a few strokes with her lighter canes.

But now, naked, tethered, with no warm up, and anticipating the first strike of Her cane, Dick was relieved that he had had the wisdom to make no such bold requests. Tonight, he would take each stroke as it came and see for himself just how far he chose to go. Jane had laid out for his perusal a selection of canes, and Dick had noticed that none of Her lighter canes has been included. Dick knew from recent correspondence with Jane that She had recently acquired one or two more severe implements, Tahiti canes– which were now also laid out for inspection.

Then, having ensured he was suitably secured, ankles, thighs, wrists and back – Jane selected a senior dragon cane and moved in to the optimum spot behind Dick. “So Dick,” said Jane “any little requests before we start… you seem to have forgotten to ask me… not… to be too gentle… and to tell me just how many strokes you want… before I may grant you mercy.” Dick hadn’t forgotten and had no intention of raising the point now either, so he gave a nervous chuckle – and Jane chuckled back – as She gently stroked Dick’s upturned buttocks with her cane.

“Are you ready Dick?” Jane asked, and as he nodded She brought the cane down smartly across the very centre of the target. And for the first time Dick got his first inkling of just what the fuss was all about. Unlike the strap and tawse, both of which gave a “cold” sting which rose and fell fairly quickly, the cane drew a “hot” line across the cheeks, and the burn just rose and rose… and lasted… for so much longer. Jane left him to stew for almost a minute – before asking gently if he would like another. And with a second nod from Dick, and a swish and a crack, Jane gave a him a second stripe just below the first.

After about another 30 seconds, and with no further enquiries Jane switched to a heavier cane and administered a 3rd, and then a 4th. And already Dick was struggling… and much of his curiosity seemed to be ebbing swiftly away.

Dick had imagined himself at this point retaining the courage and urge to know… and asking MJ to swing harder… and as he panted and sweated and tried to process the sensation… he found himself facing the question of just why he was doing this. And right up to this moment Dick had had no doubt why, and it was to satisfy his curiosity… but here Dick already had some answers (at this moment 4 to be exact)… and was anything but sure that he needed any more evidence. But as he deliberated, Jane picked up her heaviest cane… and explaining this to Dick invited him to take a few more.

Now unsure, but still not quite ready to give up Dick nodded again and in fairly swift succession Jane gave him two more “answers” completing the decoration of his buttocks with now 6 perfectly parallel lines, and with the final blow catching that sweet spot just at where the buttock meets the thigh – and Dick was almost levitating. “That was a real ball-breaker,” Jane announced rather pleased with the accuracy of the final blow.

And there he was – pretty much all questions answered… and to his surprise feeling a little nauseous. He knew of course that Jane had more power in her wrists, and could have caned him harder. He knew too that She could have caned much faster, and could only imagine what that might feel like, but still worried about the marks, and already quite clear how caning could so easily be pushed into the “unbearable” zone, Dick opted to call it a day… and once untethered, sidled over to the mirror to see just how vividly he had been marked.

To complete the session, Jane cheered Dick up with Her usual – and far more pleasant – combination of prostate massage, milking and vibration… and very soon a spent and satisfied Dick stood in Jane’s kitchen, coffee in hand… and wondering if he was now cured of the urge to receive the cane.

A month on, with the odd stripe still visible Dick had felt absolutely no urge to repeat the process… and indeed his penchant for “femdom caning porn” seemed also to be on the wane. Just as well that Jane had so very many other treats to offer… as Dick, though no longer curious about the cane, still enjoyed pretty much every other sensation in Jane’s dungeon… and even now found himself wondering if perhaps another battle with Her strap’s and tawses might not be in order.

 

taste the cane

https://twitter.com/MistressJane3

http://www.mistress-jane.com/galleries/gallery-4/

Dec 022017
 

The most frequently asked questions to Southeast Mistress Jane are…..

“What is the most popular activity?” & “Do you enjoy what you do?” & “I bet you meet some right weirdo’s don’t ya!”.

I love what I do and don’t entertain anything that I would’t find enjoyable. It is also very important to me that You have fun and enjoy yourself no matter how serious the play. I get to meet some great people and some of you have become great friends. Some of you never cease to amaze me with your kindness and generosity and offers of help that I am still blown away each week by someone. So no, I don’t meet any weirdo’s, so in that respect I have been lucky. I think you get to know with experience whether someone is on the level or not. I also get to meet other interesting people related in some way to the adult industry, whether they come in the form of another Mistress, movie makers, web masters, suppliers or other like minded people who I have met over the years and who now and again help me during sessions.

The most popular activity…hmmmm that is a hard question as it can change from one month to the next but from strapon play to rubber and from rubber to cp and anything in between should answer that question. So all in all I have a great time, i get to meet wonderful people and play with them to. Its all good.

Southeast Mistress

https://twitter.com/MistressJane3

Nov 302017
 

goddess strapon

Goddess Strapon & Mistress Jane. The flyer speaks for itself. The 14th is now fully subscribed and we have limited spaces available for the 21st. Come and meet the renowned Goddess Strapon formally known as Strapon Jane, a prolific movie maker, and Dominatrix.

http://www.straponjane.com/

We are going to have a fun packed kinky time and we hope you can join us. Miss Trixy my assistant can also join your session at special request. My fully equipped play room is just the place for you to live out your wildest fantasy. My specially equipped medical white room has all the latest tec and toys to make your session a unique experience. But for those of you who don’t want a ‘full on’ dungeon experience there is also a domestic setting available for additional scenarios with a mock Head Mistresses / Bosses office, where we can deal with errant employee’s and naughty nephews.

We look forward to receiving your enquiry and guarantee you a fabulous time with Mistress Jane of Reading Berkshire & Goddess Strapon on 21st Dec….Contact Mistress Jane for details

TEL: 07928636021           or email: mistressjane4u@hotmail.co.uk

Nov 272017
 

T-Girl Gigi will be here this Fri 1st to assist if needed. We have one slot available which would be at 9am for 90 mins or 9.30am for a 1 hour appointment. All other slots now booked. T-Girl Gigi joins me for sessions monthly so if you have missed your chance on this occasion to explore your curious side, you could always enquire to fine out when T-girl Gigi will be back to turn your darkest kinkiest fantasies into reality.

Nov 272017
 

Tom could not help but gasp at the pain as he felt the hard edges of the wooden shoe bury themselves in his soft flesh. The crack seemed to resonate in the snug little room. Again that experienced arm swept down and this time the shoe smote his left buttock. He gave a grunt and immediately her arm returned to its position ready to strike. “Six with the sandal I think – on either side,” she said brightly. “I do prefer the wood to the velvet although I suppose you have cause to disagree with me?” Adopting a steady rhythm she alternated the blows from left to right and her wooden sandal imparted a curious combination of a thud and a burning sensation that young Tom tried to escape by struggling off her lap. His legs kicked and scissored and he energetically wriggled and writhed with every wringing whack.

“I do not shirk my duty in punishing you and you must not be deficient in persuading your playmate to pay greater attention during his Latin verbs,” the chatelaine explained. “I mean – attempting to form the future active indicative as if it belonged to the second conjugation! A thrashing is much merited.” To make matters worse, he felt her fingers in the waistband of his hose. “Come, young master, we must bare your bottom!” she said briskly as she tugged the clinging garment down to expose his buttocks, now a pleasing melange of pink, cream and very crimson flash. “Sadly for you, no felix culpa this!” The hotly suffering Tom felt her body shake slightly as she laughed at her own joke.

“You do squirm, my laddie, worse than an eel!” Mistress Gwendolyn chuckled. “We’ll soon have the remedy for that.” With a rather unladylike exclamation she hitched up her skirt, followed by the shift beneath it until a shapely leg in a blue silk stocking wrapped around his lower thighs and drew him in tight. In this position his bare buttocks – framed by the white lacy stocking-top – were perfectly cocked for the remorseless descent of the sandal. “Wriggle to your heart’s content, my little piglet!” she laughed. “You won’t get free. I can grip very firmly I am told!” Her captive thus secured she whipped the sandal left and right; he bucked and squirmed (at times hardly able to breathe) as the burning sensation spread. The sandal rose and fell, bouncing off alternate buttocks that flattened momentarily underneath each impact before springing back to their lean curvature.

Whack! Crack! Whack!

Ow! Ouch! Owww!

Finally Mistress Gwendolyn lifted her leg away and allowed him up. Tom, hurt and embarrassed and scarcely able to believe what was happening to him, rubbed his bottom.

“Rather more to the job than hunting and playing dice with the Prince isn’t there, Master Tom?” she laughed. That the woman found his discomfort amusing made matters even worse. Mutinously he reached behind him to pull up his hose until a vicious, searing agony – shocking in its suddenness – made him snatch his fingers away.

“I did not tell you to adjust your clothing!” The Lady of the Wardrobe regarded him sternly and she slowly lowered the bamboo rod with its crooked handle. Silently cursing her Tom blew on his swollen knuckles (which now competed with his blistered bottom), which felt as though they had been burned with a fire-iron. She replaced the rod and rattled round for another instrument of torment. His heart sank when he recognised it: the terror of every schoolboy – the ferula!

“Doubtless you received this in your school?” she asked.

Tom nodded glumly. It was a long wooden ruler that became flatter and wider at one end forming a circular shape like a paddle. He noticed how the blade was drilled through with a pattern of holes in much the same manner as the battledore paddle used in baking, laundry – and very probably on the bottoms of miscreants in household discipline! The village schoolmarm had been a little old woman; terrifying and the children often whispered behind her back that she must be a witch. And yet I would prefer her to this creature, he thought to himself, her beauty notwithstanding.

“When your teacher administered the ferula they did so upon your palms, I’ll be bound?” Mistress Gwendolyn said in that same conversational tone. Her face brightened and she seemed pleased again – happy at watching him squirm. “I on the other hand regard that as a waste of a good implement. I prefer to punish on the spot where boys learn their lesson best!” She pointed at the chair. “Bend over the back and place your hands upon the seat.” He moved stiffly to obey, still rubbing his aching bottom until the very last minute before taking his hands away to grip the smoothly polished wood. “That’s it, all the way over.” The auburn-haired beauty prodded him with the pommel. “Keep those legs straight!” She tugged at the hose strung about his muscular thighs to ensure they were sufficiently clear of the target area and drew the circular blade of the ferula back to her right shoulder, her keen eyes measuring the range. “Twelve you shall have – on each side.”

Tom kept his gaze fixed on the seat six inches from his nose, nerving himself for the blow that would surely come. The skin of his buttocks – already sorely abused by her sandal – seemed to prickle in expectation … Blatt! Because of the holes in its flat surface, when swung the ferula thus sang through the air with no cushioning effect caused by its passing to mitigate against the blow inflicted upon the recipient’s posterior. And Tom found the skin of his right buttock then be compressed by the blow up into little pockets of flesh to produce a ‘blister’ effect. He gave a half-strangled gasp of anguish and automatically whipped one hand back in a vain attempt to protect himself. Suddenly that awful old schoolmarm seemed like a sister of mercy compared to this hellion

“Hold still, young sir! Should I miss and catch you upon the lower back it would be so much the worse for you; not least because needs must I would have to start again!”

Chuckling at the morose expression on his face she tapped his left buttock with the flat of the blade. “A fine contrivance this; it can – as I’m sure you know – cover an entire arse cheek with each lick. It can redden up a lad’s bottom flesh like nothing else!” Tom shivered involuntarily: it seemed wrong for such a courtly woman to utter a crudity like that but he had little time to dwell upon the contradiction. The ferula returned to her shoulder … Splatt!Mistress Gwendolyn settled to her task, beating out a tattoo on those crimson, stippled buttocks balanced above the back of the chair. Tom stared intently at the seat, his entire body flinching with each swat, his bottom feeling like one huge burning blister. It throbbed in time with the spanking.

The mistress swung the ferula again and again and again.

Tom set himself to counting; trying to ignore the intense burning in his paddled bottom and willing the number of strokes up to the twenty four the woman had promised would be his last.

Splatt! Splatt!

Twenty one. Twenty two.

Blatt!

            Twenty three …

K-r-akk!

“Twenty four,” Tom cried out, the words catching at the back of his throat from his distress. “I beg of you, Mistress, twenty four!” he sobbed as if it were some magic phrase that he could invoke to stop the punishment.

To his intense joy those terrible sounds of wood striking bare flesh ceased and he felt nothing but the warm air upon his tortured nates. Hardly venturing to believe his ordeal might be over, Tom gingerly lifted his right hand away from the edge of the seat to fan his posterior. As he did so, till bending forward, he twisted round as far as he dared to see what she was doing. Once more he noted the clatter of wooden objects; she was at the table with her back to him and laying down that hated ferula. Thank God, he thought. Thank God, dropping his gaze quickly before she spotted him.

Then he smelled the rosewater and heard the click of those dainty shoes as the woman advanced upon him – and in her right hand she clutched the evil, knobby bamboo rod. His heart skipped a beat in horror. Surely not …! As smartly as any cavalry trooper on parade with his mortuary sword, Mistress Gwendolyn flicked the cane up to her right shoulder. Those onyx eyes and their extraordinary rises were shining now with something other than the satisfaction of a responsibility well-performed.

“Well now, young Tom, we do come to the final act of our little tableau – the cane!”

Nov 252017
 

Mistress Gwendolyn beamed at the impact her words clearly had on the thunderstruck youth. And, while he struggled to take it in, she closed the connecting door to the passageway before reaching up to flick home the bolt. “There young man, we shall not be disturbed about our work.” The Lady of the Wardrobe walked casually back to the table and picked up the book he had been reading – it was the distinctly saucy adventures of Bevis of Hampden. “Hmm, no Bible, this Master Tom! A godly boy should eschew the works of the devil” She flicked through it in amused distaste before laying it aside. Then with a practised gesture she snatched away the black ribbon that fastened the parcel and Tom’s eyes bulged when the calico folds parted to reveal 

– A single wooden sandal, a sort of knobbly bamboo rod and that most feared implement from his schooldays, the ferula.

Mistress Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed in triumph at his discomfort, and again he heard the rustle of her skirt as she gathered the pleats to sit down in the chair he had vacated. “Take off your jacket and get over my lap, young man. I am sure the position will be familiar to you.”

Thus it was but he would not acquiesce without at least token resistance. “But My Lady! I have committed no sin. I have not offended you!”

“Indeed you have not. But the Prince is a crafty fox given to vices and slothfulness; idle if given a chance. And we must improve him. So you will take the beating meant for his Royal person, that is the way of things.”

“But the fault is not mine; I do not own it, I !”

– Then why ever did you accept the position of whipping boy? You are no bondsman and entered freely into the arrangement, I do believe. Your hand was not forced. You live well here, and shall continue to do so. Far more so than in that miserable hovel you called a home.” Her voice grew stern, the full lips pursed and she crooked a finger adorned with a fat red ruby ring. “Now you will honour your contract, Thomas, or I shall convey you from here to Billingsgate and whip you at the cart’s arse in front of all the fishwives!”

Tom gulped, feeling hot and sickly. The room seemed to sway as he removed his jacket and dropped it in the corner before advancing toward her as though in a dream. From this vantage point he could look down her bodice at the creamy flesh of her high, firm breasts but he was in no mood to enjoy the spectacle. Clicking her tongue in exasperation Mistress Gwendolyn reached up, grabbed him by the shirt front and (displaying surprising strength) pulled him down over her knees. His hands and feet moved quickly on the reed-strewn floor to steady himself.

“At last! What a business we are having and ere we have even to start.” she cried. “You serve merely to make matters worse for yourself, addle-plot!” Tom heard the tramp of boots outside as another file of soldiers strode past and he hoped none of them would be tempted to glance through the mullioned windows to see him in the nursery position over the mistress’s lap. Oblivious to the sound of marching feet Mistress Gwendolyn reached behind her to the table for the wooden sandal. Clutching it in one hand she took his shirttails in the other to fold them back and unveil the target area. She raised a knee slightly; the better to arch his spine. Unlike the wealthier men at court who favoured trousers, he still wore hose and therefore would not have the new garment, the ‘drawers’ (underpants) on underneath. “Like two ripe plums in black hessian sacks,” she chuckled, tracing the curves of his buttocks through the clinging material before patting his bottom. She then aimed the sandal at his hosed rump. “Here is the Prince’s punishment, young Thomas. Hold fast – and count yourself privileged!” And that said, she brought the sandal down.

Nov 232017
 

The Impaler : Anyone who knows me will know how much i love gadgety things and the new addition to my dungeon is exactly that…gadgety. It is a kneeling bench on steroids. It differs from the usual kneel over and strap me down bench in that every part of this bench can be adjusted. It has fixed steel cuffs for ankles, wrists and neck with a head rest. Lets face it, you may as well have some comfort as you may be secured to this little beauty for some time. It also has an arm with a dildo attachment so that you can be impaled whilst I attend to other parts of your exposed anatomy. As with most kneeling/spanking benches, once positioned on them it can be very hard to get to your nipples, not in The Impaler case though! Thats right, when you lean forward and rest on to the chest support, which has been made so even your nipples are easy to clamp, tweek or pinch! And not forgetting your meat and two veg, they dangle down plan as day, easy for me to reach and play with. And that is not all, there is also a doxy (vibrating wand) holder.

Called The Hellcat by the manufacturers, I aptly named it The Impaler.

the impaler

https://stylefetish.de/

 

 

Nov 212017
 

The Medical Fetish male milking facility

Nurse Jane and Doctor Jane will be examining patients from Doctor Jane’s surgery on Dec 14th & 21st. So isn’t it about time you booked your appointment for an intimate check up by the two very strict and demanding medical team. All sorts of medical procedures can be carried out at Dr.Jane’s Medical and male milking facility.

We  cater for all tastes and experiences from medical uniform fetish’s, where you can request whether you want the medical team to be wearing Latex nurse or the old style NHS cotton tunics. The procedures at the Medical Fetish facility range from edging to sounding and from estim to anal and everything in between. We specialise in male milking and with our range of male miking extraction machines we are sure to fulfil your needs as well as acquire plenty of samples for the lab!

So, what are you waiting for, don’t delay, book your medical appointment today! Apply within….

Male Milking with The Cock Doctor, Jane.

http://www.straponjane.com/

medical fetish

MISTRESS JANE’S MALE MILKING FACILITY:  

Masturbatrix Berkshire Mistress Jane will milk you dry! With her specially adapted male milking facility equipped with Gynae chair and specialist equipment such as Venus 2000, Serious Kit male milker, Robojac and the newly released Tremblr. Extra milking staff can be on hand to enhance your experience with the Berkshire Mistress.

EDGING/DENIAL: 

Have your cock teased and held on the edge of orgasm over and over until you’re begging to be released.

RUINED ORGASM SPECIALIST:
After me having denied you your orgasm I finally grant you release only to ruin it.
POST ORGASM TORMENT: 
Experience ‘The hand of Evil’ as it continually torments your manhood after orgasm. Experience the immediate tingle which soon escalates into an unbearable wave of over stimulation that centres on the head of your cock.
MEDICAL SCENARIOS:
Nurse Jane the Berkshire Mistress welcomes you to her clinic…Here you will be subjected to a very invasive examination. Stripped and inspected ready for your procedure to commence. Genital shaving, bed bath, needles, saline injections, surgical stapling, anal and prostate probing and milking, mock castration, estim, penis and nipple pump, urethral sounds plus estim sounds, male milking with one of my three milking/masturbation machines. PVC or Latex as well as authentic NHS nurse uniforms are available upon request. You will be in our very capable hands.
medical fetish
Nov 202017
 

Lunna Latex is a rubber fetish latex lassie from the North. She is sweet, certainly not innocent and is available to join me in your session. She is a masked beauty who dresses head to toe in your favourite shiny stuff. She is playful and fun, quiet but demanding. Lunna is a switch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Top,_bottom,_switch_(BDSM) 

She is more suited to the lighter side of BDSM, so would suit the latex fetishist who likes a rubber dolly to share his experience with. I will be posting a few clips on twitter this week so you see Lunna in action (see @mistressjane3).

Lunna Latex is available from 6.30pm during the week and with notice can be available during the day midweek. If you wish to know more about Lunna Latex please enquire by email to mistressjane4u@hotmail.co.uk

lunna latex

Nov 192017
 

Part II

Like a performing dog Tom leapt to his feet, almost knocking over the chair in his haste.

“So …” Suddenly the atmosphere in the snug little scullery seemed oppressively hot as the elegant – and frightening – woman paced around him in a circle, regarding him with a calculating, appraising eye. Tom stared rigidly ahead, trying to emulate the soldiers he saw on guard duty at the palace every day. Although frightened he felt a certain fascination at the rustle of the woman’s full skirt; the rosewater scent of her perfume in his nostrils …

“Yes, quite a resemblance …” she murmured, speaking almost to herself before addressing him. “You’re a fine-looking lad, no doubt. Broken a few hearts at the palace already I’m sure, eh?”

“N-No, Mistress.”

“Come now, no need to be bashful. You need not fear on that score at least, my boy, for I am not some outraged mother or aunt.” The smile vanished abruptly and Mistress Gwendolyn became businesslike indeed as she turned to face him. “Now to the purpose of our discussion.” She resumed her pacing while Tom stood stupidly to attention and he guessed this was how she preferred to think, to marshal her thoughts.

“Might it take long, my lady? It’s just that at five of the clock I to be at dice with the Prince.”

“And what time is it now?” She titled her head of auburn ringlets to cock an ear. In this age people gauged the passing of the day either by means of a communal clock (which only had an hour hand) or through the beats of the drum that were omnipresent within the palace precincts. “Four of the o’clock, by my reckoning. Adequate for our deliberations, young Tom. Mayhap it is the Prince we need to discuss.”

Oddly enough his focus switched to the parcel of wooden items she had placed on the table. What could be their purpose? His sense of foreboding lengthened along with the shadows outside the leaded windows.

“Being a loyal subject of Our Majesty you will doubtless know what is meant by ‘the Divine Right’?”

Tom struggled to remember what he had learned in the village school and from the rough and ready indoctrination into palace life given by the seneschal and the steward in charge of the young male servants. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other nervously. The trouble was that none of that really helped; the education of the time being brutal and aimed at knocking the learning into its pupils. Even so, being possessed of a certain native wit, he attempted an answer.

“The King – Our Majesty – is God’s anointed on Earth. He rules us by holy writ.”

“That he does!” Mistress Gwendolyn clapped her beringed fingers together in delight at such unexpected erudition.” Those extraordinarily black eyes with their gold-flecked irises bored into his. “The King’s rule is ordained in heaven. He is God’s representative on Erath. For a commoner to touch the Royal person with ill-intent is high treason. Any you know what happens to traitors don’t you, boy?”

Tom nodded dumbly. The disloyal, or rather their constituent parts, were nailed to Traitor’s Gate for all the world to see. From a mouth that suddenly felt parched he managed to mumble, “Surely my lady cannot think – 

 Of course not, gamphrel!” She waved him into silence. “Be quiet and listen. Surely you can appreciate our little dilemma in relation to his children – most particularly the Prince?”

Tom’s face clouded in befuddlement and Mistress Gwendolyn rolled her eyes before resuming her pacing, shoes muffled by the reeds carpeting the floor. “When you were slow in your studies at your village school, what would your tutor do?”

“The schoolmarm would beat us, Mistress.” He shuddered at the memory. That worthy had been a terrifying little old woman who believed in sparing neither the rod nor her young charges.

“Quite. If the King is God’s anointed then so is his son. And if the Prince is also a divine being, how – when he is lazy, or foolish, or badly behaved – may he be chastised by his tutors?”

“He cannot, because to a lay a finger upon his person would be treason.”

 “Mirabile dictu! Exactly. And now you do enter our little drama. All the world is s stage and we must play our part upon it.”

Tom’s jaw dropped at the sudden realisation. “You mean !”

“Yes! We cannot beat him. But we can beat you!”