UK Mistress Jane~Whats the goss?

UK Mistress Jane

Its been a great month, even more so now Xmas is behind us and the mornings and are slowly getting lighter. Feb will soon be upon us and the buds will be sprouting as we head towards the spring, I can hardly wait!

January saw another visit from the one and only Strapon Jane a very well known UK Mistress, not quite a house hold name, but a legend all the same! Not only have some of you had your life long fantasy fulfilled by finally getting to meet her, but so have I. She is someone I have wanted to session with since I first met her on the scene some 15 years back but never had the balls to ask. Somehow by sheer fate our paths have crossed and some of you have been very lucky to be part of our ‘Jane Sandwich’ wow. She is a true pro and a truly amazing Lady. Strapon Jane is available for sessions with me at my chambers with prior notice. I haven’t got round to publishing some of your reviews about your time spent with us, so sorry about that. I will address that issue soon.

uk mistress

The Launch of the stunning Lunna Latex got under way earlier this year, and she recently opened up her twitter account so you can see her thoughts and progress as she slowly immerses herself in to MJ’s world of kink. Lunna is available upon request on Mondays and Wednesdays with MJ. For other days please enquire to check her availability.  Follow https://twitter.com/LunnaLatex

uk mistress

Ms L’Amour, also known as Trixy has been coming for almost a year after making her debut last April ’17. She also had the pleasure of joining myself and Strapon Jane for couple of sessions which involved all three of us wearing strapons for a couple of very greedy boys. Trixy is available upon request.

Follow https://twitter.com/MissTrixyLamour

Slut Training

Slut Training~He walked in and removed his coat. “At least its warm in here” he said as he reached into the wardrobe for a hanger. The temperature had dropped recently and we had just entered a cold snap. “Take a seat” I told him as I pointed towards a chair which was by the wall. He reached into his satchel bag and handed me a note. “Instructions from the wife” he mumbled, “Tribute is also in the envelope Mistress”.

“Thank you” I replied. I opened up the envelope and began to read the note.

Dear MJ 

Thanks again for agreeing to continue the training of my husband. I am still keeping him in chastity, however I have changed the device, and for his visit to you, I’ve fitted a plastic lock numbered 001100. If the device is locked with a lock  with a different number, it probably means my husband has released himself, had a wank and fitted a new lock. I’m sure your have ways of finding out.I’ll leave it to your judgement how you deal with that possibility. 

As previously, feel free to do with him as you please. However, I have one general and two specific requests. Anything you can do to improve his obedience / subservience would be good, although i’m sure three hours with you will make a difference. On the specifics, I have a sneaking suspicion that he has a fantasy of being a slut. I wonder if you could test that out. I regard my next request a bit like routine servicing. Namely, de-spunk him. Since his last visit to you, I have allowed him to cum once. It was his Christmas present! So a reasonable amount of spunk should have built up. I’ll leave it to you to find out.

Thanks again

Claire

After reading the letter I stood up and snapping my fingers I ordered him to remove his male attire ‘pronto’. The first thing I did was to check the serial number on his chastity device corresponded with the number his wife had written in her letter, fortunately for him, it did.

I was going to test him today as well as train him. But firstly, I was going to transform him into a rubber slut. I had a rubber maids dress ready, which had matching latex suspenders, stockings, heels and a little back maids hat which was trimmed with white frills. I decided to call ‘her’ Samantha, once fully made up. As I prepared Samantha for her training I told her the purpose and rules and how I intended to train and test her.

1/  I am to be referred to as Mistress at all times.

2/ You are to be Tested, De-spunked and trained in obedience as requested by your wife.

3/ You  are to be trained so that not only I can use you but so that you can be used by others at my request. I may also call upon you when I have parties or events, where you will be expected to meet and greet my guests and in some cases accommodate them in any way I see fit.

4/ How I decide to train you will depend on the results of the ‘slut test’. The ‘Slut test’ will include cock sucking, as well as deep throat and particularly learning to avoid the gag reflex.  Strap-on training and willingness to consume your own mess, and to see how keen you are to ‘offer’ yourself to others as a slut.

5/ You will be Edged as part of your obedience and training, you can only cum when given permission. You will be de-spunked and emptied thoroughly before you little cock is locked back in its device for the foreseeable.

6/ Failure is not an option. Poor performance however will be dealt with in a severe manner by use of the cane.

Samantha was ready to commence her ‘slut training’ and as I began to fasten on my strapon harness she immediately fell to her knees in order to help me fasten the strap. She stayed on her knees and held her hands behind her back. As I turned to face her she opened her mouth wide. “Oh look” I said as I slipped my cock down her throat “A cock hole”. Samantha began to suck greedily as my hard dick slid in and out of her mouth. This was a good opportunity to thrust my dick deep into the back of her throat, and if she gagged, I would use my crop to beat her. No sooner said than done, Samantha gagged, her eyes began to water as she gasped for air. “Try again but without the commotion” I barked. Again I slid my cock to the deepest depths of her throat and again she began to gag. “All fours NOW!”. Sam crept forward on to her hands. With my crop held high I brought it down, swishing it through the air and landing it on her backside. She yelped. “Try harder” I snarled.”Yes Mistress” Sam replied. This time Sams efforts were far more satisfying. Its surprising what a little tap of the crop will do. It was quite apparent to me that my little rubber slut Samantha appeared to be enjoying sucking my cock. So much so that Her little locked up cock was dripping with so much pre cum that a little puddle had developed beneath her, which of course I had her lick up immediately.

Unbeknown to Samantha, I would be putting her to the test today. I had my own pet slut Gigi coming soon and I would expect Samantha to accommodate my guest in any way that pleased me. I had a sneaking suspicion that Samantha had a deep seated fantasy to be used as a slut and this was the ideal opportunity for her to exercise that desire.

I told Samantha that I would be soon expecting a guest. I not say whom it would be, I just told Samantha that I expected her full cooperation and obedience towards my guest. There was a knock at the door. That will be them, “Go and greet my guest and welcome them in”. Samantha tottered to the door but no sooner had she reached it Gigi walked in. Samantha looked shocked. “Welcome Miss Gigi, I am Mistresses obedient slut Samantha”.

“Oh how lovely, and what a nice surprise” said Gigi. I clicked my fingers and told Samantha to drop to her knees. Samantha obeyed, but not only that she placed her hands behind her back and opened her mouth.  “You’ve got her well trained” said Gigi. “Yes, but proof is in the pudding” I answered. “Ah” replied Gigi. “So you would like me to try her to see if she is of any use?” Gigi paused “It would be an honour Mistress”.

Gigi stood facing Samantha, she slowly hitched up her skirt to reveal her eight strap suspenders and seamed stockings, then as she lifted her skirt above her hips she revealed a bulge behind a pair of lacy panties. Samantha still on her knees watched intently for Gigi’s next move. But Gigi just stood there.

“Samantha” I called, “Gigi would like relief”. “Yes Mistress” answered a nervous Samantha. She slowly lifted her arms in order to pull down Gigi’s panties. She paused as she slipped her fingers into the waist band, then began to pull them down. Gigi’s cock fell out almost hitting Samantha in the face. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes and in it went. It wasn’t long before Samantha was putting in the same effort as she was with my cock earlier.

Upon looking down to watch on Samantha’s progress Gigi noticed a puddle of pre cum collecting just beneath Sam’s cock. Gigi looked at Sam, “You must be enjoying sucking my cock otherwise your cock wouldn’t be sooooo wet and horny, locked away in its little cage there”.

We now had Samantha on all fours with my cock fucking her ass and Gigi’s cock deep down the back of her throat, we fucked here senseless. She certainly passed her slut training.

slut training

THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE part 1

THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE

Part I

‘Healthy young test subjects wanted’, the advertisement tacked to the college noticeboard read. Volunteers (who must have no known health issues) would receive expenses plus a small emolument for their trouble.

“You should apply for it; you’re always crying poverty!” a soft female voice chuckled to my side. I twisted round to see Carole, my tutor on the social sciences course (and young, blonde and lovely into the bargain) standing next to me.

“Maybe I should,” I replied, feeling a rather illogical need to impress her with my bravery. My eyes flickered back over the text, which – like most business writing these days – proved to be a masterpiece of saying everything while telling you nothing. “It’s not very clear, is it? Do you know anything about what it’s actually about? I mean they obviously want people to experiment on?”

“Well that’s one way of putting it!” Carole frowned and teased a lock of wavy blonde hair between thumb and forefinger as she tried to recall the recent conversation with the advertisers. “I remember the principal saying something when the company first came in to ask to advertise. Solaryde they called themselves. But it was more for the psychology department. Something about a new type of dynamic therapy, neurally reprogramming learned shortcuts to anti-social behaviour through disciplinary interventions, that kind of thing.”

“Discipline eh?” I cackled. “Ooh er missus! Kinky!”

Carole laughed softly and shook her head in mock sadness. “Don’t get your hopes up! I’m sure it’s nothing like that. I guess it’s similar to what they were trying back in the Sixties, I suppose.” She wrinkled the bridge of her nose in that characteristically cute manner I liked when she was deep in thought. “The lady that headed the team did say the research is designed to continue the theories of Newman and Benatar from the nineteen eighties and nineties.”

The only ‘Benatar’ I happened to be familiar with was the mini-skirted purveyor of American housewives’ rock but I felt no need to admit that.

Carole shrugged those slim shoulders in her floral summer dress. “Probably best if you ’phone up and ask them first before committing yourself to anything.”

“As long as it’s not the Ludovico Technique I don’t mind,” I joked, mind by now made up. “And the money will come in handy for the end of term ball. Oh, and by the way,” I attempted nonchalance, “will you be going —?”

I realised I was addressing thin air as the object of my desire had by this time disappeared.

There was half an hour until the start of my next lecture. While pacing the college grounds I decided that there would be no time like the present and tapped out the number for Solaryde on my mobile ’phone. After a gratifyingly short period (during which I was still daydreaming about Carole in her party dress) the clinic picked up. A female switchboard operator – clearly computer-generated – queried the nature of my enquiry and hardly had I uttered the words ‘test subject’ than she recited a legal disclaimer before putting me through to the lead clinician. I was impressed by the way they even managed to synthesise the tone of studied boredom before another voice cut in on the line. Again it was female but there the similarity ended. She sounded bright, enthusiastic and spoke in the most cut-glass of English accents. Being a typical young bloke I imagined she would look absolutely lovely and hoped I’d get the chance to actually meet her.

“Hi, Doctor Barzani speaking. How can I help?”

“Hi, Doctor,” I replied. “Actually I might be able to help you. I’m ’phoning about the advertisement you placed in my college for test subjects. Something about a revolutionary new therapy?”

“Oh yes!” she said excitedly. “Thank you so much for enquiring! We’ve had quite a few people ring and we need just one more person to complete the numbers for the first test group. Would you be interested and if so could you come over to our research facility in Chichester on Wednesday?”

“Count me in,” I heard myself reply.

Living proof that you can be intellectual without necessarily being clever.

By Roadman.

REVIEW 20/12/17

My first experience of the IMPALER was brilliant Mistress. Felt so completely helpless with wrists, ankles and neck firmly secured and my face in the head rest pad. Would recommend it to any sub brave enough.

You certainly pushed my limits on it. I had no chance of lasting long enough for you with Venus attached, and that meant the cane. Having to choose which cane myself blindly by naming a number between 1 and 10 added an extra dimension.

The caning you gave me was well deserved for previous misdemeanour’s and I’m branded, a reminder of who I belong to.

You are the best.

S

The Whipping Boy Part 5

“Face your front!” Mistress Gwendolyn commanded briskly and as reluctant as he felt, Tom took up the required stance, clutching the edges of the chair’s seat for dear life It cannot be far off five of the clock, the young man pondered sullenly, when is she going to release me so that I may attend the Prince? And damn the Prince, he thought with sudden venom. If the little rascal had not made such a mess of his Latin verbs then I would not be suffering such torment … but that, of course, happened to be precisely the point.

Mistress Gwendolyn glided smoothly into position behind and to the left of him and her fine white teeth flashed as she lowered the cane to the horizontal. “It has a marvellous crooked form does it not, Master Tom? The raised bumps along its length make for some spectacular bruises and the sharp bite it do impart have a truly lasting effect upon the recipient – like a sharp sermon delivered on a frosty morning!” She chuckled once more at her own wit.

“Yes Mistress,” Tom agreed and his sulky mood made him careless. “It is a repandous as the King’s legs ‒ ” Horror-struck at what had just passed his lips he snatched a hand away to cover his mouth.

“Master Tom!” The Lady of the Wardrobe half-laughed and half-gasped in mock horror. It was the worst kept secret at court that the King suffered from rickets and nobody really believed the official story of how his guardian, Sir Robert Carey had cured him of the malady in childhood. “You ought to have your ears shorn off at the pillory for such disloyalty! I was going to give you a dozen – but now you shall receive another six.” She shook her head in supposed sadness, those ringlets falling about her slim shoulders. “You bad, bad boy! In truth I do not know who has been more likely stalled to the rogue: you or your playmate!” Then she set to the denouement of her work.

Tap tappity-tap. The tip of the cane played its little dance upon his mottled proffered buttocks as she measured her first stroke. The ferula was a brutal weapon – a veritable a broadsword or a war hammer in the disciplinarian’s armoury – but the cane, a relatively new import from India required skill and precision, in the manner of a rapier, to employ it properly. “Well, my boy,” she teased him; “you shall earn your firewood this day!” Having gauged the distance, while the poor suffering Tom waited, she gave a deft, lateral flick of the wrist

Thwatt!

A half-strangled cry of pain was wrung from him before Tom almost quite realised it. And immediately came the tormenting, mocking tap-tap-tap as she calculated her second stroke. Again he heard the hollow whoosh of displaced air followed at a discernible interval by that hateful sensation which threatened to overwhelm his senses. His buttocks were erupting, a blistering pain searing through skin and flesh. Every subsequent stroke of the cane seemed to be lacerating them afresh. He desperately wanted to tear his hands away and evade that next blow but he checked himself. He had absolutely no doubt that she meant her threat of a flogging at the at the cart’s arse – a shaming punishment for prostitutes – in front of all those leering, cackling fishwives.

He gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white.

Mistress Gwendolyn paused for a moment to allow him to calm his breathing. Sumptuous and gilded though it undoubtedly was, the court of King Charles could be staid at times with much emphasis on decorum and reverence for the monarch. One had therefore to take one’s pleasures where one could find them. And seeing the young man’s muscular hindquarters positioned over the back of the chair, already crimson in their fury and now transected by mauve lines darkening at their edges, she delighted at the sight of her handiwork – especially when made so on such a fine-looking lad. He was no town-raised cokenay milksop softened by easy living but a village youth, rangy and strong-looking. He took his undeserved punishment stoically: his head of dark locks held low; back straight and legs slightly parted. Other ladies at court would have taken their pleasure with him in a different manner, she knew but this she found much more enjoyable. Oh yes, my laddie, she thought, we shall have this dance again …

Tap-tap- Thwatt! As her victim flinched visibly and as yet another parallel carmine stripe appeared, with its distinctive white line in the middle, she felt her nipples harden beneath her shift and a warm glow stole throughout her body from her loins. She almost lost herself in the sensation but even while drawing back the cane again for its next biting sting she knew she could not exceed the boundaries of the punishment. A solemn responsibility is after all conferred upon the disciplinarian and duty is duty after all. Even so, something about the young man’s dumb resilience, the way he kept his head bowed and suffered that lashing irritated Mistress Gwendolyn in an unfathomable way. He must be close to tears by now, she reasoned and how better to force the issue by a nice, hard low one delivered right across his previous marks — shwack!

The effect proved immediate and dramatic. A piercing howl that most certainly frightened the life out of anyone within earshot in the palace reverberated in the scullery as Tom left to his feet, clutching his backside. Mistress Gwendolyn had to dig the tip of the cane into the floor and rest her palms upon it as she fought the urge to collapse with laughter as he hopped about, hobbled by the garments about his ankles and looking at her in hatred with eyes puffy, red and awash with tears.

“Adjust your hose, my boy and smarten yourself,” she giggled evilly, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “It is five of the clock now and I’m sure you will not wish to be late. We spent a merry afternoon together; did we not?”

The glare from Tom’s handsome face slicked by tears told otherwise. He bent forward to pull up his leggings, gasping because the motion caused the skin of his buttocks to stretch. The Lady of the Wardrobe smirked in satisfaction when he winced as the fabric of the hose snapped on the lambasted flesh of his rear end. Taking a small cloth she began wiping her implements clean of the perspiration and other bodily oils before replacing them in the calico: until next time.

“Go to the Prince now and impress upon him how much you have suffered at his behest and of the necessity of his improvement. You are – as no doubt you truly see – the hostage of his good behaviour: the Whipping Boy!”

THE END

REVIEW 07/12/17

Hi Mistress Jane,

I’m slowly coming back down to earth and now able to reflect on my experience with yourself and Lunna. I must admit I was in a bit of a daze directly afterwards and somewhat euphoric.

What a fantastic time I had, it has been a while since I last session-ed, but you made my time with you somewhat of a memory that will stick, you knew exactly what buttons to press (literally) to get me going and just held me there on the edge.

I still don’t feel I can fully express my feelings about my experience with you both, but my god it was good.

I would like to thank you both for an amazing time. Lunna was fantastic and a very naughty latex lady, the hood topped it, and you know exactly how to bring the very best of the time to encourage full realease to leave me completely drained!!

Thanks again to you both, and I still smell of latex which is great!!! 😏

Take care both of you and I am already looking forward to the next time I can present my latex self to you.

Best regards M.

Taste the Cane with Mistress Jane

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

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Goddess Strapon & MJ~21st Dec in Reading

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

The Whipping Boy~Part 3

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.

The whipping Boy~PART 2

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!”