“If you will come with us,” they had said.
Following the children up the main staircase, Richard watched spellbound as he realised that neither child was wearing any undergarments and the girl’s cute little bottom was in full view to him from under her short kilt.
What was also equally enjoyable was that her bottom was very red as if it had been punished recently. He followed them, wondering if the erotic scene he was now witnessing was due to his over indulgence the night before and if those pleasures, were clouding his mind, as it sometimes did when he took the opium he was offered.
By the time the children had shown Richard into the meeting room, his cock was painfully erect and he was embarrassed to see the other guests knowingly looking at his crotch, as if they too had also been affected by the greeting.
Richard adjusted himself as best he could, turning to look at the paintings. His attention centred on a woman who was also admiring the paintings. He thought he knew her and her occasional glance his way, suggested she knew him but she avoided any conversation.
She moved from one painting to another, keeping her distance from the other guests as they all looked warily at each other. The paintings were all of an erotic nature, from an illustrated French book she recalled.
Adults sadistically flogged children in a variety of ways, the artist expertly capturing the agonies of the children and the pleasures of the adults.
Seeing these images again, brought back memories of the Hardwick’s where she had been the governess. She recalled the many enjoyable times when she would use a martinet to administer severe whippings to her charges, whilst their parents were sitting together on the couch opposite watching the punishments with baited breath.
Miss Fould’s, most favoured method of punishing naughty children, was with a martinet a small French whip that has many strands of leather, positioned on their backs with their knees firmly held to their chests by their bound hands.
This position affords the spectator a most obscene spectacle and makes it easy for the martinet to be whipped into their wide-open bottoms, bringing screams and struggles as it also scours their tender anuses and genitals.
Richard moved to another painting, as it dawned on him, “I know you!” he said, as if it was a revelation. “You were governess to the Hardwick’s” oblivious to the coldness in her eyes. “Miss, miss, miss Frank, Miss French,” he frowned as he tried remembering her name, certain it became with an F.
“Miss Foulds,” she told him coldly, hating it when people didn’t get her name right. Her hands itched to hold a whip and use it upon him for his insolence.
“That’s it. Miss Foulds!” he grinned. “Fancy meeting you here,” he added.
Richard remembered other details about her. It was rumoured that she’d been dismissed from another position as the Bamford family governess after it was discovered that she’d been educating the children in more than just academic studies.
The children were later separated, the girl send to stay with a distant aunt in Scotland the boy to a school in Croydon. The rigorous hygiene and sexual control therapies that their governess insisted upon became useful as the children developed their own sexual perversions.
“ And you, Lord Holmes,” she asked letting her voice carry to the others.
She had also heard of him through a group of friends, envying him and the money he would spend on street waifs for his pleasures. Had she been younger, she might have applied to him for a position as a governess. Sadistically whipping the waifs he had paid to watch being punished.
Looking towards the other two gentlemen, Richard said, “Perhaps you’ve not yet worked out the link that brings us together,” and then smiled as he watched their expressions change.
They had all followed the children up the stairs and been treated to a glimpse of the little girl’s bottom which had clearly been punished and to the boy’s shorts that were pulled tightly between his bottom cheeks, painfully encasing his erect cock.
A new understanding started to express it’s self, as they associated the scenes they had already witnessed with their own dubious backgrounds and started now to realise how close their private passions were to becoming common knowledge.
It was then that Alice made her timely entrance and addressed her guests, “If you will all take a seat please,” She told them, looking around then sitting at the head of the solid wooden table, which along with the chairs had been used for meetings since 1837, when her father was chairman of the board of governors.
“My name is Alice Marchant,” she addressed her guests.
Attractively dressed with a low cut bodice, it was all that Richard could do to keep his eyes off her as he and his fellow guests nervously tried to imagine what she might say about them.
A knock at the door interrupted Richard’s thoughts and Alice who was clearly expecting the interruption called out for them to enter. Guided by two stern looking women the same two children were taken over to a raised dais. Being raised the guests now had a close up view of the children who were elevated to eye level and standing directly in front of their chaperones.
Looking at her guest’s Alice announced, “These are two members of my staff and they have brought David and Amy for you to assess,” watching their expressions, as they drooled over these attractive children, not being able to believe how passive they both were.
“And why would we want to do that” asked the larger of the two men seated across from Lord Holmes. “Mr Smith, please be patient,” Miss Marchant told him, unruffled by his abrupt outburst.
“I’m wasting money whilst I’m here, I’ll have you know!”
It was time for Alice to make her move. “I’m about to offer you an investment you’ll not wish to pass up.” She said, “Hasn’t your wife recently left you Mr Smith, taking your children with her?”
“What’s it to you?” David Smith asked, clearly agitated by the remark. Perhaps, if she knew his wife had taken his two daughters away, then she would also know the reason why.
He was fairly certain that his wife wouldn’t tell, not as long as he took care of them financially. But others? He’d be ruined if the wrong people heard of the naughty little games he would play with them.
Alice smiled and moved her attention to the other man.
“And what about you Mr Stevens? I understand that you’re been recently struck off as a doctor. Some difficulty explaining the use you put some of your medical tools to, wasn’t it Jeremy?” she asked.
The small, well-dressed man, started to squirm as he felt the stares. “I’ll be appealing. Those children made it all up!”
“I’m sure,” Alice smiled.
Her attention turned now to Lord Richard Holmes. “Need I mention the little darlings who are brought by their governesses to your private rooms?” she asked him. “I hear that there is always a shortage of birch rods after their visits,” she smiled.
Richard, wondered just how this woman knew so much about her guests. Thankfully, her attentions moved on and she reminded Miss Fould’s of the numerous children she had educated, quite indecently it would appear. Greta blushed and started to shake.