Chapter One
Let us
journey to a place far away and a time long ago. This would be an era several
centuries ago when the rule of men over the women of their households was never
in question. The females of that world accepted that if they were to exercise
power, it was to be covertly. Anything but the most servile of deference to the
males that dominated their environment could quite legally be corporally
punished. In fact, a man who exercised the ‘rule of thumb’ in his domain was
considered to be more than usually enlightened. This dictum specified that
women, animals, and other chattel should not be beaten with sticks of greater
diameter than their Master’s thumb. There was, of course, no penalty for a man
who rejected this rule as over-lenient. In fact, he might be regarded
approvingly by his neighbors as properly strict in his exercise of the
discipline universally regarded as necessary to the maintenance of a
well-regulated home and estate.
The
locale in which our tale is set is also of particular importance. It was a
region of southern England well off the beaten path, consisting of rich coastal
farmlands that were well-watered and well-drained and had been producing bumper
crops for millennia. Those fortunate enough to own land in this area hardly had
to struggle with a Mother Nature who showed her kindest of faces the vast
majority of the time. The local gentry lived well as long as they exercised
good judgment and hewed to the conservative values that tended to dominate
Great Britain of that era, especially outside of the more cosmopolitan environs
of London and the university towns of Oxford and Cambridge. Inalienable human
rights were a concept that most of the local inhabitants had not heard of. And
even among the few educated denizens, deference was paid only to the true
spirit of the Magna Carta, which was solely intended to protect the rights of
the nobility against kingly overreach.
In this
setting, an unusually bright female, especially if she were cursed with an
unquenchable curiosity and a spirited temperament, would encounter all manner
of difficulties. These would persist or worsen until she mastered the subtle
arts of displaying her wit only to those who would not feel threatened by it.
If such a person was born into the peasantry, a possible future could be found
as a wise woman conversant in herb lore and midwifery. This pathway would
involve being identified by and taken under the wing of a crone established in
such arts. Of course, such women pursued their cryptic medical careers in
constant danger of being denounced by the superstitious populace as witches.
Only a fiery end was in store for anyone so unfortunate as to stumble onto that
pathway. So the so-called wise women who survived to old age needed to be
consummate politicians.
But if a
girl with those same attributes were to be born into the gentry, then even this
discreetly noble pursuit would not be available. Those high-born females who
could bear the religious life might find a life in the religious orders of they
were among the mistrusted Catholic minority. But if bright girls came from
Church of England families, nunneries were not an option in this era. Nor were
there established educational institutions beyond local finishing schools in
which well-bred young ladies were taught the rather limited skills required of
their future roles as ladies of the manor.
Our
heroine, the Lady Blaise Fortescu, was just such an unfortunate. Even her
unusual Christian name, taken from a fortress of the nearest large city to her
father’s estates (namely Bristol), seemed destined to cause her trouble. He had
bestowed it on his youngest of five daughters in a fit of one of his usual
enthusiasms, this time for local history. Lord Fortescu concluded from
researches never to be confirmed that the castle bearing that name had been a
central redoubt during a dark time in early English history. He rather
presciently named his last daughter after his most recent fascination because
he detected in her even as a newborn an indomitable spirit. While this turned
out to be true, who knows whether children repeatedly told they are a certain way
actually become so because of tacit encouragement?
Well, in
Blaise’s case, the experiences she had as a consequence of her spirited nature
could hardly be classified as encouraging, except in the sense that hardship
might make a person stronger if it does not break them. Even though she was an
unusually beautiful child (who would grow into a stunningly lovely young
woman), the precocious girl spent much of her childhood in trouble. And in this
era, that meant that she also would have been subjected to frequent
disciplinary experiences. For a different sort of fiery ends awaited rebellious
girls than the stake at which suspected witches were burned. For upper class
girls, these consisted initially of trips over a nanny’s ample lap (since such
chores would have been far beneath the Lady of the manor).
Once that
undignified position had been achieved, there a rebellious daughter would be
subjected to having her skirts raised and smallclothes lowered. Once her
buttocks (universally deemed to be the place the Good Lord had optimally
designed for such purposes) were properly bared, the chiding older woman’s hard
right hand would have descended many times to soundly spank the miscreant’s
bottom. This belaboring would persist until the desired effect was achieved,
after which the sinner would do a long period of time standing in the corner of
the nursery holding up her clothes to display her glowing nates as a lesson to
her siblings.
Our
heroine was different from her older sisters (the Master not having been blessed
with male heirs) in her stubbornness even as a very small child. Her spankings
were always more severe than those of her more biddable siblings, in that Nanny
tended to regard the breaking of a rebellious child’s spirit as a goal of such
proceedings. A blubbering penitent girl was her aim, and the painful collisions
of her hard right hand with soft clenching and quivering buttocks were
generally continued until that outcome had been achieved. Of course, Blaise’s
canny older sisters soon learned to express such overt contrition immediately,
hoping to shorten their anguish.
Not so
their spirited youngest sibling. She hated the humiliation of having her
private parts bared and put on display just as much as her sisters, and
certainly had no love (at least to begin with) for hind end pain. But far worse
would be the indignity of surrender, just as her father imagined was the case
for the builder of Blaise Castle and the painfully martyred Saint that was its
namesake. And his beautiful blonde youngest offspring lived up to her name,
never once releasing more than silent tears no matter how long and hard she was
spanked. So Nanny’s arm or patience (or willingness to leave her beloved charge
bruised for days) would wear out before Blaise’s spirit was broken. Though our
heroine’s bottom would glow far more redly than those of her sisters after
their own much less enthusiastic disciplinary sessions (a state which she would
later ruefully reflect to be the apparent lot in life for that part of her
regardless of age or circumstance).
She did
wonder if her looks were at least part of the reason she seemed to elicit such
fervent attempts to break her spirit via punishment of her bottom by all of the
women who inherited the right to discipline her. Her older sisters were all
brown eyed and haired, but it seemed the local infiltration of the gene pool by
the Vikings who had raided these parts for many centuries had manifested itself
in Lord Fortescu’s youngest offspring. Blaise sported white blonde hair which
descended in riotous curls, huge cornflower blue yes, a button nose, and
rosebud lips, all consistent with the current cultural ideal of feminine
beauty. And by the time she reached her womanhood, her ceaseless activity had
given her long clean limbs and a flat stomach. Today, she probably would have
been diagnosed with some form of hyperactivity and given medications. In her
era, the medicine deemed proper to treat such symptoms consisted of forceful
application of painful stimuli to the afflicted individual’s unhappy
hind-quarters.
Her
Scandinavian forbears also endowed our heroine with larger than average firm,
uplifted breasts and a robustly feminine pair of hips. The term the Vikings had
used to describe such sturdily constructed women roughly translated as ‘shield-maiden’.
Lady Blaise was strong enough from her culturally disapproved rambles around
her father’s estate to have conducted herself honorably in battle once trained
(as she did many times in her romantic fantasies). Her muscular buttocks were
also well-toned by her tomboyish penchant for climbing anything she could get
away with ascending on the many occasions when she escaped the supervision of
her Nanny or Governess. Like her other unfeminine activities, her jaunts up
inviting trees and ruins were conducted regardless of the inevitable
consequences for that part of her when she was almost inevitably caught in such
culturally proscribed adventures.
Once they
turned five and were graduated from the nursery, the education of the Fortescu
girls was taken over by their Governess. This formidable woman was a
convent-educated refugee from France, where her Huguenot ancestors had been
persecuted for generations by the Catholic majority. She instructed her charges
in French and Latin and a wide variety of academic disciplines that were
unusually sophisticated fare for a country manor house. Of the five girls, only
Blaise was an avid customer for all that Mademoiselle had to teach. The only
blonde daughter had an insatiable appetite for history and geography, loving to
daydream for hours imagining faraway places as she pored over the maps in the
study to which she was frequently exiled after being punished for one of her
routine rebellions. Her sisters detested mathematics and science, which also
fascinated our heroine and endeared her to her otherwise frustrated Governess.
A
strangely ambivalent relationship developed between the Lady Blaise and
Mademoiselle. On the one hand, the precocious blonde daughter was by far the
most apt pupil for the dedicated teacher’s passionate service to the Goddess
Athena whom she regarded to be the patron deity of her love of learning. The
rather homely Frenchwoman took great delight in the responsive girl’s endless
curiosity and agile mind. On the other hand, the youngest daughter’s rebellious
streak caused her Governess no end of frustration, every iota of which would be
taken out routinely on her charge’s bared buttocks.
Discipline
from Mademoiselle was quite different than it had been from Nanny. The warmth
of being held over a loving lap and spanked with a bare hand was out of the
question. Spankings in the schoolroom were delivered with the miscreant bent
over the teacher’s desk, the front of which had been equipped with a leather
padding so that the front of the students’ hips would not be bruised by the
sharp edge of the furniture. By the time the fifth and final daughter entered
the classroom, this leather was well-polished in its center, since all of
Blaise’s older siblings were indifferent students whose minds tended to wander
in class.
Their
instructor always rewarded such perambulations with an edifying trip over her
desktop for the daydreamer. Her hands would be secured by soft but sturdy cords
to the teacher’s chair on the far side of the desk so that they would not be tempted
to interfere with the unpleasantness happening at their owner’s opposite end.
Then skirts would be raised and pinned up, and smallclothes lowered (since the
Governess was of the opinion that the embarrassment of having ones bottom bared
for it added piquancy to well-deserved punishment). Pantalets around knees also
prevented legs from kicking too wildly, as they were wont to do when their
owner’s buttocks were having the fires of Hell lit in them. Once these
preparations were complete, a leather house slipper would be used to paddle the
squirming moons until their color was darkened to a brilliant cerise. Then
their owner would stand in the front corner of the classroom for the remainder
of the lesson, her hands atop her head to prevent her from rubbing away any of
the pain. Of course, her skirts remained pinned up so that her glowing nether
moons would provide an ongoing reminder to her sisters of the price of
inattention.
In her
entire decade plus in the Manor’s classroom, our heroine never once had to be
spanked for inattention. She drank up all learning like a thirsty young plant
in the desert, her mind never wandering from the topic at hand. However, that
same avid intellect quite frequently took issue with Mademoiselle’s opinions
about the various topics under discussion. The older sisters would never have
been engaged enough in the lesson to even think to argue with any of the strong
personal points of view the frustrated Frenchwoman included in her lessons. But
their blonde junior was only too willing to disagree with their teacher. At
times, this led to lively discussions between the two as the four older girls
rolled their eyes at the interruption. But at least once a day, a line would be
crossed and Blaise would find herself bent over the desk and undergoing the
same procedure as her inattentive siblings, only for the opposite reason. But
she took pride in never once deciding not to pursue an argument for fear of a
painful outcome for her posterior, which was quite used to such treatment in
any case.
Of
course, many of our heroine’s misbehaviors occurred outside the classroom. She
would finish her homework far sooner than her sisters, and receive permission
to leave the study hall to read in the library. At least half the time, some
interesting item glimpsed from the windows would draw her attention, and Blaise
would be off and running on some adventurous exploration of the estate. This
would inevitably end in an angry Governess tracking down her mischievous charge
in some corner of the grounds, often after some frighteningly high tree or wall
or rooftop had been climbed. Justice was dispensed on the spot for such crimes,
using the hairbrush Mademoiselle carried in her purse. The squirming blonde
would be bent over a handy branch or bench or even her kneeling teacher’s left
leg. Then skirts would be hauled up and held in place by a strong left hand
pinioning the miscreant’s right wrist against the small of her back while
pantalets were dragged down to restrain kicking legs. And then the back of the
walnut hairbrush would be fiercely applied to the naughty bottom now exposed.
But as in the classroom, our heroine stubbornly avoided any cries of pain
during her rear end’s travails. Her tears would fall silently as she took her
bitter medicine, the only sounds being the crack of hard wood against soft
buttock flesh and the ongoing diatribe of the frustrated Frenchwoman chiding
her hopelessly rebellious student.
This set
of scenarios went on for the better part of a decade, as Blaise’s sisters aged
out of the manor’s classroom to attend the local finishing school, Mistress
Farquhar’s Academy for Young Ladies, when they came of age. The physical venue
for the youngest daughter’s ceaseless testing of her boundaries also changed,
as her capricious Father decided to give in to his lively girl’s agitation to
take up riding. All of a sudden, climbing and other perilous activities afoot
were replaced by similar outrageous behaviors on horseback. Given her history,
readers will hardly be surprised that our heroine stubbornly challenged every
limit set by her Father’s Stablemaster, Soames. He was a taciturn man in his
mid forties, totally unused to the vagaries of young Ladies. How was he to
handle a strapping young woman who insisted on jumping the highest fences regardless
of her teacher’s commands?
But what
he did know is that those who disobeyed his instructions would be made to pay
in the usual manner for that era and locale. Within a week of the onset of her
lessons, Blaise had committed her first major sin and when they returned to the
stables, the taciturn Horse Master sent her to fetch her Governess. Soames was
an exceedingly careful man regarding certain proprieties, and would not have
considered undertaking the proper discipline of a young female charge without
the presence of a chaperon. Thus, Mademoiselle was not surprised when her
blushing pupil appeared in her riding dress and declared, “Horsemaster asked me
to fetch you to observe while he disciplines me for my usual headstrong nature.”