Chapter One
Allison Maxwell Phillipson grew up just outside a quiet Sussex village in a twelfth
century castle where the family had resided for centuries.
The castle was hardly spectacular, and in some senses best fulfilled the term
"rough hewn". Parts of it were falling apart and uninhabitable, and much of the
lower sections had been forgotten and were largely unknown to the modern tenants.
Allison's adolescence was largely one of solitude. Quiet and bookish, most of
the other students mistook her shyness for snobbery, and as there seemed no particular
aspect of her personality to attract them left her fairly well alone.
Nor was there anything physical to draw the eye to the mouse like girl, for though
she grew tall she remained largely undeveloped at first. Thin and flat chested, she walked
about with her tousled blonde head down and books clasped to her body.
Sex was not something she thought much about. Her parents were largely absent, and
her governess treated sex as a forbidden, and somewhat disgusting rite between married
adults. Occasionally she would get odd feelings and thoughts, but she repressed them
firmly.
Left to her own devices Allison explored the castle, venturing far into its
closed off, run down sections and discovering rooms where dust had lain undisturbed for
decades.
In one such room, in a long closed closet, Allison came upon a veritable treasure
trove of books. Yet these were not of a kind with Shakespeare or Dickens, but of a more
modern and base sort. They spoke of sex in graphic detail, told stories of fair maidens
captured and abused by foul pirates, of innocent virgins tortured by depraved Lords.
Allison read through them in fascination, staring, wide eyed at the illustrations
that accompanied them. And as her eyes poured through the text she began to feel a
stirring between her coltish thighs as her heartbeat quickened.
By her sixteenth birthday Allison had reached the height of six feet and one inch.
Yet for all her height was still underdeveloped in other areas, both psychological and
physical. Her parents being otherwise occupied and out of the country she received her
present, a golden bracelet, from the family's butler, Michael.
Yet a far more important present arrived over the following months. As if that
birthday was a long awaited goal finally reached her body began to bloom like a rose in
spring. She had resigned herself to never becoming remotely similar to the beautiful women
she saw in magazines and was quite startled to find her clothes tightening over sensitive
parts of her body.
Her tiny breasts grew, her hips widened and her hair seemed to take on an entirely
new tone and shading. For the first time ever she was forced to purchase a bra an
embarrassing scenario for one of her age who knew little about them. She purchased a dozen
in different sizes through a mail order house.
By seventeen she could no longer be termed flat chested, sporting a proud pair of
high, firm breasts cupped in a lacy white thirty four B brassiere. Her entire wardrobe had
changed, in fact, for the trousers she had once worn were too tight now, as were her
blouses.
Yet she continued to develop rapidly, as if nature was making up for lost time. Her
breasts grew four more inches and a cup size over the next eight months, to the point
where, despite her height she could appear, in the wrong clothes, top heavy and buxom.
This, of course, embarrassed the quiet young lady to no end. She therefore dressed
to minimize her new, startling figure even as, in the privacy of her large tower room she
gazed upon it in delight. It astonished her every time she looked at herself in the
mirror. It was as though she were looking at one of those magazines she'd found in
the closet, or one of the illustrations.
She was...beautiful.
Her face was striking and lovely, narrow and delicately sculpted, with soft,
cornflower blue eyes. Her cheeks were high, her nose a small button. Her lips were full
and sensuous and her face framed by a mass of golden blonde hair which tumbled richly and
thickly down over her shoulders like a waterfall.
Her body was pale, yet her skin soft and unmarred by blemishes. Her breasts were
large and round, yet with small, dainty pink nipples in the exact center of each. Her
breasts shook only very slightly as she moved, being almost unnaturally firm for their
size.
She had a trim waist, with a concave belly which flared into round, womanly hips.
Her buttocks were the shape of a perfect apple, pushed out behind her tightly and round.
Her legs were exquisitely long and well sculptured, tapering to trim ankles and small
feet.
She stared at this in secret pride, posing hesitantly before her mirror. And her
mind filled with fantasies as she imagined men seeing her as she was now, imagined their
excitement and approval. Her parents might still think of her as a child, yet she realized
she now had the body of a woman.
One other person at least had noted her new development, and that was Michael, the
butler.
Michael Price was an odd man, even more quiet than Allison, though not from
shyness. He had been David Maxwell's butler for fifteen years, yet loathed the man.
Price had been born into money himself. His great grandfather had started a brass
factory in the north. His grandfather had expanded it into a large plumbing supplies
business. His father had built up the company's supply of industrial customers,
doubling sales.
Then Michael had inherited it. Gripped by a fine sense of propriety and an
overweening pride he had tried to shift the business to something more...well, more in
keeping with his perceived place in society.
It embarrassed him to be known as a man who made toilets. So he tried to convert
the business, selling much of it off and going into high technology. Unfortunately he was
a miserable failure and lost virtually every cent of the fortune his sires had built up.
David Maxwell had been kind enough to offer him the position as his butler here at
Maxwell Castle. Maxwell was almost never home, which left Michael in charge of the
residence and staff, and living in a large, comfortable suite of apartments.
Michael resented this charity to no end but had no option but to limit his revenge
to small things where he thought his ill will would go undetected.
He had begun to eye Maxwell's daughter shortly after her sixteenth birthday,
when, to be precise, she became legal.
He had few thoughts of sex with her, for she wasn't really much to look at,
but he made some efforts to involve her in things scandalous, tentative attempts to see
the "wrong kind" of young man placed in her path.
Nothing had really succeeded however, for the girl seemed uninterested in the
opposite sex, or altogether too shy to be corrupted.
Then one day while wandering through the back corridors, idly looking for whatever
of value he might take and sell off, he heard a small sound. He deftly skulked up to the
corner of an open doorway, and inside found young Allison sitting on the floor in a pile
of old books reading.
This was hardly surprising, other than the location. What was surprising was the
sight of her open trousers, and her hand plunged down the front, the knuckles working back
and forth against the fabric as she rather obviously massaged herself.
His eyes narrowed and he smiled thinly, wondering what she was reading, where the
pile of books had come from. Later he had gone back and found cheap pornographic novels
and a few magazines, all old and grungy. The focus of both magazines and novels was
bondage, and to a lesser degree sadomasochism.
His teeth appearing like a shark he decided to do his best to contribute to
whatever thoughts young Allison had in that direction, for Michael rather loathed woman,
and was, to some degree, a sadist himself.
In fact, he had a number of such magazines and novels himself, and had often
dreamed of having a lovely young thing at his mercy, had imagined the things he would do
to her body, the ways he could twist and turn her mind.
So he carefully added to the collection there in the closet, stuffing more modern
magazines under the pile, adding in some of his own favourite sadomasochistic novels.
Nothing came of it for some time, though he was reasonably certain Allison was still going
through them all. He wondered if it were just idle curiosity on her part or if she really
had thoughts in that direction.
In fact, many such thoughts passed through Allison's mind each day. She felt
guilty because of them, however, for her governess Julia had taught her that sex was evil,
a sin, and only acceptable at all within the confines of marriage.
Yet she often felt lewd feelings and had wanton thoughts, and the books, those
torrid, filthy books which she continued to read and re read made it quite clear the
punishment such girls as her merited for carnal behaviour, girls with full breasts and
pert bottoms.
When she had first begun to read them she had become excited, aroused, and
delighted at the punishments. She was jealous of such girls, pretty and lushly developed,
and thought they certainly deserved some mistreatment for the sin of their beauty.
But now as she read them she placed herself in the position of the abused maidens,
imagined herself spread out on the rack, hanging for the whip, or positioned for rough
sexual use. And she found such thoughts freeing, for they did not bring the guilt she
otherwise felt at lewd thoughts and fantasies.
After all, if she were forced, imprisoned and forced! To do filthy things like that
she could hardly be held accountable. If she were chained down upon an altar and lewdly
ravished there could be no fault in her moral makeup.
Besides which she had developed an odd fixation with bondage and helplessness from
an early age. She watched westerns on the TV, and cartoons with buxom heroines, her eyes
always widening whenever anyone, especially a girl, was taken prisoner and tied up.
She had often tied herself up, or tried to, pretending to martyrdom, acting the
part of the helpless, abused captive. She had found it oddly exciting well before
she'd come across the books.
The books and magazines, however, had given a far deeper, more sexual slant to her
interest, and combined with her guilty feelings over her sexual thoughts to grip her mind
and draw her in to a realm of dark fantasy.
And so, more and more often her sexual fantasies turned to such things, to chains
and whips, to horrid men who would ravish her endlessly while forcing her to grovel at
their feet.
And it was with such a fantasy playing in her mind one afternoon that Julia found
her. Julia was a stern Irish Catholic from a small village in County Conought. Though only
in her late thirties she acted twice that. Her dark hair was always pulled back so tightly
the staff joked it was this that made her face so stiff.
Julia was a woman of strong beliefs, and one of them was discipline, especially for
the young. Allison had been spanked mercilessly for any misdeed, however slight, when she
was younger, and this, in no small part, helped account for her quiet behaviour.
Yet now, in what she thought the privacy of her room, she stood naked before her
full length mirror, her fingers sliding through her hair as she swayed seductively. Her
hips rolled in time to the music from her stereo, and her small pink tongue slid along her
lower lip as she imagined herself dancing for some cruel jailer.
`What do you think you're doing!?'
She halted at once, whirling with a gasp to confront the smaller woman advancing
upon her.
`J-Julia!' she squeaked.
Julia's open hand lashed out and cracked against Allison's left cheek,
throwing her back against her bed.
`Are you a harlot to behave like this? Are you a trollop?!'
`No, Julia!' Allison gasped, face red with embarrassment.
`I have tried to tell you, again and again of the wicked ways of men and the
temptation your body fills them with. Have you listened to nothing I have said!?'
`I...I have, Julia!' she cried. `I...I didn't mean anything!'
Julia glared at her through steely, unforgiving eyes.
`Are you so proud of your lewd nakedness, girl?' she demanded.
`Are you that eager to show yourself to men, to give them the gift of your
virginity?'
Allison shook her head desperately.
Julia took a deep breath, then turned her back on the girl.
`Come with me,' she ordered.
Allison reached for her clothes but Julia stopped her with a gesture. `At
once!'
`But Julia...'
`You're so proud of your flesh, girl you should have no shame at uncovering it
here in this house. Come!'
So, trying to cover herself as best she could with her arms and hands Allison
scurried after the governess, following her out into the hall, her bare feet dancing on
the cold stone as Julia led her down the narrow, rounded staircase that led down from her
room.
`A...Julia...'
`Silence!'
And Allison obeyed, as she had obeyed most of her life. She followed Julia down the
stairs and through the doorway at the bottom then out into the much wider hallway which
led north along the inner castle wall.
Blushing, her hair flying as she hurried after the quick walking governess,
Allison's head swivelled from side to side, eyes wide with fear and alarm as she
watched for other servants who might see her nudity.
The air was chill on her bare flesh, and her feet danced on the cold stone below as
her hands fumbled desperately to cover herself from casual eyes. Yet inside her she felt a
throbbing excitement. Being naked outside the protected confines of her room, where anyone
might see was so...so sluttish!
And, in fact, she was spotted, for she heard a gasp behind her, and her head jerked
about to spot one of the stewards standing wide eyed in the hall, mouth wide as he beheld
her lovely rounded buttocks.
`Julia!'
`In here.'
Julia gestured abruptly and Allison hurried into a small, dank room with sparse
wooden furniture. Julia closed and bolted the door behind and stared at the tall, blonde
girl with a small tight smile. `Aren't quite so proud of all that exposed flesh now,
are we, girl?'
Allison shook her head frantically.
There was a small bed in one corner of the room, a dresser across from it. A pair
of large crucifixes faced each other across the room. Julia went to the closet and opened
it, then fished around in the back and pulled out a three foot long rounded wooden cane.
She slashed it back and forth several times and it made a hissing sound as it cut
through the air.
`I used to use this when I was a mistress at the St. James School for girls,'
she said, turning and swinging it again determinedly. It brought many a straying lamb into
line with Jesus.' She turned and pulled a hard wooden chair away from the wall,
turning its back to face the wide eyed blonde girl.
`Bend over this,' she ordered.
Allison bit her lip fearfully, yet she stepped forward, for to do otherwise would
be to disobey Julia, and that was not something she had ever gotten away with.
`All the way!' Julia snapped, pushing down on her head.
Allison grunted as the top of the chair pushed up hard into her lower belly. She
bent far over, her breasts pushing firmly into the back of the chair and her hands
gripping the seat. Again she felt the throbbing between her legs, for this was the kind of
sexual situation many of her heroines had faced.
Julia moved behind her as Allison held her breath, blushing anew at her exposed
position as she waited the touch of the cane. She had never been caned before, though
Julia had never stinted from slaps and cuffs. But it occurred to her now that she had read
of canings often enough, in those books in the hidden closet.
Of course then the canings had been administered by cruel, handsome men, not a
glinty eyed governess. Still, she felt her chest tightening at exposing herself in the way
she was, in placing herself such a position.
She had often done so in her private fantasies, placing herself in the same
positions of torment as the girls she read of, posing her body as though ready for the
whip or some other device of torture. Now that she actually did face the cane she found it
impossible not to feel a raw, carnal excitement.
She heard the cane hiss as it swung through the air, then it cut across her naked
backside. The impact was at first hardly cause for concern, yet as if her body were
shocked by the force of it the pain was delayed. Then, a half second later it exploded
inside her, sharp, jaggedly sharp, it cut into her with astonishing force and tore a
scream from her lips.
As though she had been burned she instinctively pulled herself free from the source
of that pain, jumping back and aside to stare at Julia as she cupped her wounded behind.
`Get back into position!' Julia ordered.
`But it hurts, Julia!'
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