Chapter One

Alicia Smith was resigned to being indentured to Crawford House. She would have much rather been at home on her family's farm, but knew that her father was in debt to Horace Crawford. If she could successfully complete a year of indentured service, the debt would be cleared. Otherwise, her father would lose everything he owned. Thus she was trying to make the best of her situation and, at times, she became almost comfortable with it.

Her duties as a serving girl were light, dusting and cleaning, scrubbing floors, waiting on Master Crawford. She was allowed some free time and given permission to use the library and to roam about the forests and gardens surrounding the old mansion.

She had to go about in nothing but a mere scrap of cloth, a short dress of a brown color. It knotted on over one shoulder and came right up to the line of her rounded buttocks. She was not allowed to wear undergarments beneath the dress. She was permitted no shoes or stockings. At all times, she was barefoot, rain or shine, warm or cold.

Horace Crawford liked his servant girls clean and smooth. Alicia had to do a body-shave with her morning bath. This included her pubic mound and left her truly bare.

At 18, Alicia was a lighthearted and even mischievous girl and these qualities were the cause of her first punishment under Crawford's rule.

With a bit of free time on her hands, Alicia was frolicking in the east parlor, romping with Crawford's huge German Shepherd. The dog had started barking just as Fletcher, Crawford's chief houseman, happened by.

Secure in the knowledge that he could take this girl to Crawford to be punished, Fletcher paused in the doorway, admiring Alicia's youthful lovely appearance. She was down on her hands and knees with the dog, her tiny garment fluttering about her firm buttocks. She was a slender girl with rounded breasts and a peaches and cream complexion. Her hair was blonde, the color of sand, hints of strawberry in it and it hung past her shoulders and around her pretty face.

Fletcher was eager to see this girl naked and she would be naked indeed for punishment.

"Get up from there, girl." he ordered.

Alicia fairly jumped to her feet, startled to find that she was being watched. She started to explain, but Fletcher was grabbing her by the wrist and taking her from the room.

"You'll answer to your master for creating this ruckus," he growled.

Alicia found herself in the library, facing Horace Crawford. He was seated in a wingback chair, working on some correspondence and smiled when he learned of the situation.

Crawford was dressed in the fashion of the wealthy gentlemen of the American Colonies, breeches tied above white stockings, shirt ruffled in front, a long coat. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Forbidding as he was, Alicia found her new master to be oddly handsome. He was well into his fifties, tall, his hair turning gray but his eyes belied a coldness and she was always frightened in his presence.

Fletcher was quick to describe the incident in the east parlor. Alicia was given no chance to defend herself.

Crawford touched his fingertips together. "This girl will be punished on the sawhorse," he said to Fletcher. "Take her away. Strip her bare and do the necessary bindings. I'll join you once you've had time to prepare her."

"What are you going to do to me?" Alicia asked.

"You'll find out soon enough," was Crawford's only reply.

Alicia tried to yank herself free, but Fletcher was a broad and powerful man and he began hauling her from the room. Her struggles became such that she fell to the floor, feet kicking, hair falling across her face. But Fletcher just dragged her along behind him.

The sawhorse was one of the many odd punishment contraptions in Crawford House. It was stationed in a room on the second floor, a room almost empty save for the sawhorse itself. The ceiling was high, the windows tall and without drapes or curtains, the wooden floor polished. The dreaded sawhorse, crafted of the finest mahogany, sat ominously in the middle of the room. A wooden cylinder of the same mahogany was mounted atop it.

When Fletcher had her next to this punishment device, he told her that he was going to strap her up to it and Alicia began to plead with him.

"Please don't tie me to that horrid thing."

But Fletcher was undoing the one knot that held her shift up and when the dress fell to the floor, he hoisted the nude girl up onto the cylinder, her midriff directly on the middle of it, arms dangling over one side, legs over the other. He crisscrossed two belts over the small of her back and under the cylinder, buckling them securely to pinion her.

Alicia's hands and feet waved at the air, fingers splayed, toes wriggling, the very picture of youth in captivity.

Fletcher paused for a moment and gazed at Alicia, savoring her helplessness. This was one aspect of his duties that he more than relished. His only wish at present was that Crawford had more than one indentured girl in the house.

"Let's get you fixed up a bit more securely," he said as he returned to the task at hand. "We don't want you avoiding any of your punishment."

There were gleaming, brass fittings near the bottom of each of the sawhorse support posts. Each fitting had a long leather strap attached to it and Fletcher tied Alicia's wrists and ankles into the ends of these straps. She was doing her best to wrest herself free of his grasping hands, but he soon had her fastened and pulled out into a downward X shape, hair hanging toward the floor, arms and legs spread wide. The bare buttocks were at just about the height of a person's waist and this left both her pussy and anus in ideal positions for being invaded.

As Fletcher tied the last knot fast, Horace Crawford entered the room. Craning her neck, Alicia looked upward to see that her master had a riding crop of braided leather in hand. Her body stiffened and then strained at the bindings. She knew full well that the crop would be used on her bare bottom.

"Looks like she's ready for her punishment," Crawford said as he came toward the sawhorse. "Perhaps she knows that this is the best thing for her."

"I'm not certain of that," Fletcher said as he stepped aside. "She put up quite a fight and she whined over being strapped down."

Crawford was feeling Alicia's buttocks, his hand slipping between her thighs to fondle the smooth sex cleft.

Alicia squirmed beneath his grip. She was shamed at this treatment, but her pussy was becoming warm.

Crawford released his grip and then handed the riding crop to Fletcher.

"Give her a good cropping," he said. "Tan that pretty rump until I signal you to stop."

Standing behind the bound girl, Fletcher drew the crop back and then brought it down across the buttocks twice in quick succession.

Swack!

He drew a X pattern of stripes across her cheeks, swinging the tool from left to right, right to left.

Alicia shrieked at the leather's first fiery licks.

"Yaaa!" she cried out. "You can't do this to me!"

But the crop continued to strike and Alicia looked up when she heard Crawford chuckle. "A nude girl who's strapped out to the horse isn't in any position to be telling people what they can't do!" he said. You'll take your punishment, my girl."

Fletcher was administering the beating in a slow, methodical manner. Each stroke was a separate agony, a lash of fire that pierced deep into Alicia's naked flesh. She was wrenching at the straps, her limbs aching, her muscles knotting painfully beneath the peaches and cream skin. Her toes pointed themselves tight in a frustration of suffering and her sobs began to echo from the high ceiling.

"Nooo." she moaned. "I can't bear this!"

It was a strange scenario being enacted, two fully clothed men tormenting a nude and helpless young girl.

In his years of being in Horace Crawford's employ, Fletcher had become a practiced flagellator and he loved his craft. The sight of feminine cheeks turning red beneath a thrashing was a true joy to him. And the ones he was punishing now were a delight, so perfectly rounded, so girlish and firm.

Alicia's moans were becoming more plaintive and she was gazing up at Horace Crawford, her eyes beseeching him for mercy. "Please tell him to stop," she gasped. "Please!"

This merely added to the enjoyment that Horace was already experiencing. He, too, was a man who craved the sight of a bare and beaten girl. Peering closely, he saw something that made him even happier. Alicia's pubic mound was becoming moist. The beating she was undergoing was forcing her sex fluids to flow.

"We mustn't neglect her little pussy," he said to Fletcher. "Give it about a dozen strokes."

"No, not there" Alicia cried. "Not my puss!"

But it was too late. Fletcher lowered the crop and then swung it upward, searing it over the most tender portion of Alicia's anatomy, her pubis.

"Yaaa!" she shrieked as her shaven flesh was struck. "Take pity on me!"

But she got her dozen strokes and by the time the last one had fallen, juices were dripping from her slit.

Horace dismissed Fletcher when this cruel beating was done with. Alone with the bound girl, he stood behind her and stepped between her thighs. A bulge formed within his trousers as he gazed at the thrashed flesh. The girlish orbs were pulsating, the red stripes glowing. And he could see the pussy throbbing with the strange excitement that flagellation was capable of creating. He wanted that pussy now and he was going to have it.

"And now you need a good fucking, Alicia," he said as he freed his erection from his trousers and placed it at the opening to her crevice.

And then Alicia revealed that she'd never been penetrated.

Crawford's eyes lit up. He had a bound and freshly flogged girl at his disposal, and to make it all the better, the girl was virgin.

"You will take your fucking," he said as he began wedging his cock into the tight slit. "It's part of your discipline."

He was poking and prodding, finally managing to cram himself within the pussy. Then, with a mighty shove, he filled the pussy to the brim."

"Uhhh," came from Alicia's mouth. It was hard to say if she was undergoing pleasure or suffering.

The pain she felt at being entered for the first time was only momentary and then her loins were responding on their own. Her hips started hammering up and down as she writhed at the cylinder. She pulled at the straps, stretching herself taut.

After seeing this girl flogged, Crawford was seeking quick satisfaction. He stroked at her rapidly, his cock pounding at the virgin flesh until he was filling her with hot cream.

"You will learn obedience while you are under my care," he grunted as he used her. "You will learn to take the discipline you so sorely need. I'm going to leave orders for you to be given a birching each night before you retire. You will also receive the birch each morning."

He would have been surprised to know that Alicia had reached an orgasm of her own.