CHAPTER 15
Lady Belinda Smithers was a lady who had lived life well. So well indeed that, with the death of her husband a year before, she now felt life's riches slipping away from her. No more the caviar and champagne, no more the hunting and shooting parties, when joy had been unalloyed and aristocratic ladies wanton in their cups. True, her bank balance would have kept many a poor labourer in bread, cheese, beef, and beer for a lifetime, but such a comparison would have shocked Belinda, who viewed all working people as entirely a different species of homo sapiens. Thus she had cast her eyes about for one who would not so much be a breadwinner, nor even a bread-and-cheese winner, but a caviar supplier and mayhap a diamond digger.
This is not to say, of course, that Belinda was any more greedy than many of her wealthy neighbours, whose Christianity was practised solely with an eye to saving their own souls and receiving therefore the approbation of the local vicar. By any standards of upper class society, Belinda was much as they, save that her hypocrisy stopped short at attending church regularly.
Moreover, both her daughter, Clara, and her son, Ronald, were an additional weight upon her, for they sought ever the same comforts as they had enjoyed since the nursery and had seemingly no idea where money came from. Hence did Belinda's not wholly unattractive eyes fall upon Ralph Cane, whose standing as a Member of Parliament impressed her even more than the occasional standing of his cock when both were in an amorous mood.
That he did not rejoice more in the ample offerings of her curves fretted Belinda a trifle, though not so much as to make her change her plans. Truly, she failed to understand him-or he failed to understand her, as she frequently conjectured. On occasion, he had tried to kiss her drawers, albeit that she was still wearing them. This she did not mind so much and was quite amused when his mouth tickled her there. But she drew a line whenever he bent-rather furtively, it is true-to kiss her boots. It was a decidedly unmanly thing to do by Belinda's standards.
Her late husband had always born a large stiff one with which he would poke her not infrequently and in a masterful fashion, a mode that Belinda most enjoyed. Occasionally he had birched her for pleasure, a sport not entirely unknown in the neighbourhood, though referred to in only the most discreet manner. He had in all senses, so far as Belinda was concerned, been a sporting gentleman, vigorous and soldierly in manner, and extolling from his better half such pleasures as he wished in return for keeping her in more than mere comfort.
Laden with many private treasures as she had been, mostly in the form of necklaces, rings, and other expensive gewgaws, Belinda had forgiven him all, even to the extent of aiding his caprices with several of the younger female servants, who came and went as fast as raindrops.
'I will have her, my dear, this evening', Lord Smithers would say languidly at dinner, indicating some fresh young country girl who had come under his eye when brought into their service.
'Yes, my dear', Belinda would answer, and would feel quite an amorous shiver run through her at the thought of her lord and master putting his manly cock to the girl. She might perhaps whimper and struggle until she took the pleasure of it, whereat she would be slipped a guinea or two by Belinda, who not infrequently watched the amorous battle, being satisfied when the girl was filled to the brim with her master's effusion. Watching her husband's gleaming shaft emerge from a clinging nest, Belinda would feel true pride, ever knowing that it would remain stiff for her afterwards when the maid was dismissed.
Not only of course were the servants served in this manner. Many aristocratic ladies who, once in their cups at some uproarious hunt ball, would doff their drawers and proceed to some merry bottom-bumping on the carpet-not seldom within sight of their spouses, who were equally occupied on some adjacent part of the floor.
Alas, such diversions were no longer part of Belinda's life, for she could no longer afford to gather around her those who were of like mind. Hence she fretted, for, while Ralph Cane possessed the monetary wealth she required, he lacked the doughtiness of purpose in making her ripe bottom move to his cock in the lordly fashion she had erstwhile enjoyed. Perhaps, so she considered to herself, it was in some wise her fault, for she tended to simper in boudoir encounters while, unknown to her, Ralph hungered for a more masterful woman. Thus in her unknowing did Belinda turn to her daughter, Clara, upon whom she had high hopes.
Alas, such hopes were not of the high moralistic stature that one might have hoped for. Indeed, there are those among you who may wish to avert their eyes from what is to follow. Such well-conducted behaviour and such altruism as Astrid intended to impose upon her kin and her eventual followers is not here to be found. In a word, Clara was to rut with Ralph and thus to provide the eventual lure that would draw him into the very centre of Belinda's web. Once achieved, the very nubile young lady could be married off and so domestically dispensed with, to the contentment of all concerned, naturally.
So it came about that Belinda made few bones about the matter when now addressing her daughter, who always listened carefully to all her dear mama had to say. That there was a reason for this shall be unfolded, for Clara-though not always of the nicest nature-was by no means unprepossessing. At the age of twenty, she displayed all of the physical attributes of her mama, which is to say that her breasts were full and firm, her waist of pleasing smallness, her thighs well fleshed, and as a bottom provocative as any demure young lady might secretly wish to possess.
Clara, however, was far from being demure in her inner nature. Outwardly, she affected a prim and petulant mien. Save for the lushness of her curves, none would have suspected her to be a secret worshipper at the altar of Priapus, as indeed she was and as Belinda well knew.
Belinda had good cause to know it. There had come a time three years before when her husband's eyes had strayed not to a new young servant but to their daughter. Belinda had at first affected not to notice this, but then, being a woman of egotistical philosophy and ever mindful of the brimming coffers, she had drawn a discreet shade over her eyes, constantly reminding herself that her husband's virile tool ever sought new pastures and stayed none in long save her own. As to Clara's seduction, it had proved an artful variation on the classical mode, and one that Belinda had discovered through her propinquity for peering in keyholes. Moreover, her suspicions had first been slightly aroused by her master's decision to install a comfortable divan in his study, an article of furniture that he had never previously found use for.
Apprised on the first occasion that Clara had misbehaved and must be given a taste of the strap-as Lord Smithers casually put it-Belinda had not only agreed that disciplinary measures were sometimes requisite but had herself scolded an apparently tearful Clara into attending upon her father in his study.
Within a minute or two of her doing so, there had come to Belinda's ears the sound of the leather being regularly applied with that particular splatting, smacking sound that a good broad strap produces. Being concerned at the time with the household accounts, Belinda absorbed these background noises casually until it distantly occurred to her that her offspring was making remarkably little noise herself. This being her papa's first attendance on her bottom, Belinda naturally expected to hear loud squeals and cries, a detail evidently forgotten by Clara in her excitement. Or perhaps the minx thought that her mama was otherwise too occupied to take notice.
Belinda was never lost in the matter of fine instincts and raised her head several times to listen. Hearing then several strange moans emanating from her daughter-though muffled by distance and the closed door of the study-she became ever more curious as to the manner of Clara's reception of the strap across her bottom. Insofar as the rhythmic slapping of the leather still sounded, and seemed to be rather prolonged even for her husband, Belinda betook herself along the upper corridor to her master's haven and applied her eye to the keyhole.