EXTRACT FOR
Anthea's Tale Complete Collection
(Fiaine Cluiun)
"Mistress, you shouldn't be down here."
Anthea Morningschild scowled as she continued her way down one of the servants' staircases. Unlike the main ones these thin, tightly curved constructions lacked the lighting and decorations carefully carved into stone and wood. What right did the maid have to tell her what to do, or where she might go? She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. If they caught her down here, what did it matter?
And if there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing, then why am I not willing to tell father what I'm doing? It didn't matter, she was a free born woman with the right to be where she wished in her own home. If her father didn't approve, then she'd deal with the outcome with her head held high.
Besides, she was an adult, had been for two years now, and it was long past the time when she should be fully involved in the running of her father's estates. No matter how difficult or distasteful that work might be.
"If your lord father was to find out I'd allowed you to use the servant's stairs--"
Anthea turned, bracing herself on the narrow step with both hands as she pressed them to the walls. "My lord father, should he ever return, will hear nothing of this, or anything else unless it's to do with the protection of his lands, and his oath to the Duke."
"Please, Mistress Anthea, he'll have me strung up and whipped if he finds out." The maid shifted her weight from one foot to the next.
"A spanking in the main hall is the worst he'll do to you." As Mary had anything to truly fear? "We all face such things in our lives, it is the lot of women. Our punishment for being touched by the darkness." She spoke without thinking about it, the information taught to all of them, regardless of standing, from birth. Only women carried the taint, and only men had the strength needed to keep the dark one from taking over their world through weak females and the curse.
"You don't know how angry he can be, Mistress." Mary twisted her hands together, her face pale, eyes filled with unshed tears. "What punishments he hands out."
No, of course she didn't, how could she when her father kept her far away from such things? "If I am to be a lady, with a household of my own, it's time I understood how matters are handled." And how punishments were handed out.
Mary whimpered and bit her bottom lip, head hanging low.
"Do you understand me, Mary?"
The servant nodded but remained silent.
Well and good. Anthea turned her back on the maid. If Mary faced punishment for this, then she would observe the girl's correction as was her right as an adult member of the household. Did her father want her to go into a marriage not knowing what was expected? Not understanding how corrections, discipline and punishments were all managed? For now she was safe enough from the hand of a man, but the servants? They were of a class that required such handling on a regular basis, being but low born beasts.
Would he see me punished? If true her punishment wouldn't be the same as when servants and serfs faced such things. At most there'd be a handful of spanks, over her clothing, and in private, though her father had never raised a hand to her. Her punishments had never been more than a day or two confined to her room, and there was no reason to change things now. Besides, the man was seldom home.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening. Muffled voices, a cry of protest, and more voices. Had she missed it? Anthea flattened her palms against the wood, heart racing as her breath caught. Even now she could turn back, return to her room, and forget about this.
A gasp, a woman's voice, muffled and mingled with tears. She didn't need to see them to know the distinct noises a woman made when they cried, but instead of pulling away her body tightened. Skin taut across her breasts and down between her thighs. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the sensations. A tingle played over her nipples, invisible fingers roused them into points pressing against the thin silk she wore beneath her long, linen and wool gown.
If she pulled back, would it be enough? Could she return to the safety of her bed, and explore her body again with this new sensation now surging through her?
No.
She pushed, gently, on the door, not wanting to draw attention to her presence. No, safer for all concerned if they ignored her, and if they couldn't see her, then so much the better.
"No, please. Have mercy," the woman's voice split the air as Anthea slipped into the room and kept to the shadows as she made her way around the room's exterior. No one looked her way, the attention of every man and woman in the room, remained fixed on the pleading female. "I won't do it again."
"Now, Belinda, you know we can't let this slide. What type of example would that set for everyone else?" The guardsman stood in front of the fire. "Keep this up and we'll take this to the courtyard, where everyone will witness your punishment. You should be thanking me for allowing this to remain here, limiting those involved in your shame."
Anthea pressed one hand to her breast. Her pulse throbbed as the traitorous heat cupped between her thighs. Had she done the wrong thing in wanting to see a punishment firsthand? No, of course, she was in the right. If she allowed her father to continue to shelter her, then what sort of wife would she be when he eventually married her off?
How could she offer advice to her husband, or command the correct punishment if she had no idea how it worked, or what lower class women reacted to? And it was only the lower class, if her father's behavior had taught her nothing else, it was that women of her status, despite still being the property of their families, were not subjected to anything but the mildest of disciplines.
No man of worth would treat his wife, or daughter, with the same brutal hand that was applied to servants and bondmaids.
She leaned in, trying to see which of the women was in trouble. Belinda, the name meant little to her, servants were always girl, wench, bitch, slut, or similar unless they were assigned as personal handmaids such as Mary, but even those of Mary's position were subject to the laws of their home.
"Come girl, you know what's expected. No reason to make things worse than it already is." The man gestured to a wooden table.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it's the girls first time." A stout woman with large breasts barely concealed by the thin homespun. "She's fighting shame on top of fear, might be easier if you give her a bit of time." The cook ducked her head, keeping her hands in front of her.
"First time or not, she's not going to whine her way out of this. You've all been through first, second and more times, and I know she's witnessed at least one punishment down here. But her first you say? Good, then perhaps the lesson will sink home without too many repeats." He didn't move except to indicate the table. "Don't make me drag you over here, it'll go all the harder on you if you refuse to obey."
A sob broke free from the trembling, dark haired Belinda.
"There now, girl, it'll be all over with soon enough." The cook patted her arm. "Best march over there and be done with, no one will think any the worse for you."
Shaking with every step the wench made her way to the table, her head bowed.
Except it wasn't the type of table Anthea had seen in the dining room, or anywhere else, but had only heard about in whispers she wasn't meant to overhear. Now, as she allowed herself a moment to think, she couldn't look away from it as the woman approached and stopped in front of the contraption.
The guardsman moved without warning, catching Belinda with one hand across the back of her neck, the tight enough to tear a cry of pain from the wench. "You know this is for your own good, Belinda. You, like all women, must never be allowed to step out of line, there are rules that bind your behavior and must be enforced lest we allow the dark one access to our homes and lives."
How old had she been when she'd first heard one of the priests or guards recite the law, or a section of it? Old enough to understand that a spanking for a maid was never just a spanking. But a justified protection of their home.
He forced the wench over the table, standing behind her as he kicked her legs open, his grip no longer on Belinda's neck pressed against the small of her back as he leaned in, his body tight against the maid's. "You may cry out, but you will not break position. If you do, it will go all the harder on you."
The threat ignited a hunger deep within her core.
"Do you understand?" He stepped to the side, still leaning in over Belinda.
"Yes, sir."
A whimper but better than remaining silent. Whatever happened to the wench, it was better to comply than to defy, as a servant there were limits on what could be done to her, weren't there? Belinda had been born free, unlike the bondswomen who could be bought and sold on whims, so there were limits on punishments unless they were stripped of their freedom.
A fate which would never befall her as her father would be there, to protect her, for years to come. Then her husband would do the same. Leaving her safe.
As it should be.
The guardsman flipped up Belinda's skirts, baring the woman's ass.
Cold warred with heat as it played through Anthea's body, teasing her inner core, setting her clit on fire and her nipples aching with the need to be touched, played with, and the hunger she knew she could satisfy with her own touch once she was alone in her room.
Mary might hear her, but would never report her to father, or priest, regardless of what the maid heard, but would there come a time when Mary might turn against her? She frowned, pushing the unwanted thoughts aside as she eased closer, not wanting to miss out on a moment.
A pair of pale rounded buttocks drew her attention, the woman held in place by the guardsman's instructions but nothing else. Would Belinda remain in place? She nibbled on her bottom lip as she continued to watch.
A figure edged close to her, leaning in, the warmth of another human being enough to draw Anthea's attention for a split second.
A man.
Not her maid.
Not any of the others she might expect here.
A man who's face she didn't know.
He leaned in, his voice a warmth against her neck.
"Do you believe you should be here, girl?"