"Speaking of clothes, we must do something about all this blood on your legs before you put your trousers on again. Have you a clean handkerchief?"
"Yes. In my trouser pocket."
She picked up the trousers and found the handkerchief. "Bend over."
He bent over, resting his hands on his knees.
She dabbed at his legs and buttocks. "It's begin-to thicken a bit. It'll stop bleeding soon."
"Until you start again upstairs. Are you going to start again?"
"Of course. I haven't really used the birch yet." She went on dabbing at the weals. "But we'll have to put something down on your bed. Some sort of waterproof stuff. Plastic or something. Have you got anything?"
"Don't tell me that you don't travel with that, too."
She laughed. "I don't, as a matter of fact. I don't expect to bring blood when I thrash children. And I didn't expect to be able to thrash you-much as I've wanted to do so, many a time."
"Have you indeed? If only I'd known!"
"Never mind. We can make up for lost time now. It's wonderful to think I have a permanent victim under the same roof."
Her words were beginning to excite him again. He felt the stirrings of sex deep down in his loins. "Let's go upstairs."
"I'll go on first. I want to look in on the children for a moment."
"Have you given the evening thrashings yet?"
"No. That's why I want to look in on them. It's only your son and heir to be thrashed tonight, though."
"What for?"-
"Dirty fingernails at lunch."
"How many strokes?"
"Ten."
"Does he enjoy it? Is he a masochist, too?"
"I shouldn't be at all surprised. He seems to go out of his way to earn a thrashing." She gave a final dab with the handkerchief. "This has stopped now. You can put your trousers on again." She held out the handkerchief to him, and then changed her mind. She put it in her pocket. "I'll wash this for you." She gave the cane a final wipe with her own handkerchief and put that in her pocket too. "But what about something waterproof for your bed?"
"There's a large car-cover in the garage. I think it's made of rubber. It's certainly waterproof."
"Good. That'll do wonderfully. Will you get it and bring it upstairs? I wonder, though, whether we should go to your bedroom or to mine."
"Mine has double doors."
"That settles it. I'll meet you there in about a quarter of an hour." She picked up the birch and, holding both cane and birch close against her body, went to the door. She quietly unlocked it, peered outside, turned her head quickly to give him a dazzling smile, and disappeared.
As the door closed behind her, he picked up his pants and put them on quickly. It wouldn't do for anyone to enter the study now and find him in this condition. He pulled on his trousers, tucked his shirt into place, zipped the flies shut, straightened his jacket.
He gave a great sigh of fulfilment and pleasurable anticipation. He went to the side-table and poured another whisky. He sipped it, remembering the agony of the last six strokes. He found the memory very exciting. They had hurt him very terribly, but-well, he wouldn't mind receiving them again. He grinned suddenly, reflecting that he would do quite soon now. If she had such extra-sadistic pleasure from whipping him when he was in a drained condition, it probably meant that she would do so always. Indeed, she had said so, he now remembered. What had been her words? "I shall always thrash you-and thrash you very hard indeed-after you have come and you have no sex in you. From time to time I like to know that it is all pain." She had added that she was going to be relatively merciful the first time. He shivered. What would she be like when she was not relatively merciful? He would very soon find out…
He put down his glass and went out of the room. He left the house by the front door and went into the garage. His legs hurt him a good deal as he walked. He took a rolled-up car-cover from a shelf. He ran his hand over the material. Yes, it was waterproof all right; it was a sort of rubberised cotton.
He thought of Marlene Reitter. She always wore something of rubber when she whipped him. She said she didn't like to let anybody's blood splash over her skin. But she had never thought of his carpets, as Margarete Hansen had. His heart warmed as he thought of her, his new boss. How wonderful it would be to live under her power, always to watch whether she had a cane or a birch in her hand!
He returned to the house, and went straight upstairs to his bedroom, the car-cover under his arm. He threw it on the bed, and quickly took off all his clothes. He went into the bathroom and had a quick shower. He was towelling himself when he heard her knock. "Come in," he called. "It's open." He heard her enter the room and turn the key in the lock of the outer door. She closed the inner door and locked that too.
"Where are you?" she called, throwing her cane and birch on the bed.
"Here. In the bathroom."
She came to the bathroom door. He caught his breath. She was wearing a black chiffon negligee that gave a tantalising glimpse of her nakedness beneath. "I was terrified I'd run into one of the servants in the passage," she said.
He gazed at her. "You are very lovely."
She smiled. "You said you want to see what I look like without clothes. This negligee gives you an idea."
"It certainly does."
"That's why I was afraid of running into a servant. I ought to have put something on the top of it."
"You're here now. And perhaps you'll stay."
"All night?"
"Yes."
She shook her head. "You say that now. But when you've made love to me you'll want to sleep alone."
"I doubt it."
"I don't." She had decided, in the last quarter of an hour, that she must play all her cards well. If she played them well enough there was just a possibility that she might become more than merely the governess of his children. "We'll see, anyway."
He finished towelling himself and came close to her. He put his arms around her waist, his hands on her buttocks, and pulled her closely to him.
She felt his penis like a piece of wood against her mound. She began to feel very sexy. She wanted to be put down on the bed and used roughly. But, before that, she wanted to thrash him again-thrash him, this time, really hard. She wanted to lay her birch across his broad, muscular shoulders, and make him cry out. To make a man cry out under her cane or birch-or any other instrument-was a very great pleasure to her. She exulted in the feeling of power that such a cry proved she possessed-and she lashed harder in order to hear it repeated.
"Come on," she said. "Come and be thrashed again." She pulled herself away from him and turned into the bedroom. She went to the bed and looked at the car-cover. She ran her hand over its surface. "This'll do beautifully," she said. "You'd better keep it here permanently."
"Shall I spread it over the bed?"
"I will." She threw it open over the bed. It was very large and fell to the floor on all three sides. She draped some of it over the bed-head. "It may be a bit cold at first to lie on. I've put the rubber side upwards. It will be easier to wipe your blood off the rubber side."
"Are you going to be as brutal as that?" He was well aware that this was a silly question, since he had brought the car- cover from the garage for that specific purpose. He simply wanted the thrill of hearing her answer.
She herself well understood why he had asked the silly question. She gave him the answer she knew he wanted to hear. "I'm going to thrash you into strips. I'm going to make your blood run like water." She saw his eyes flash, and then half-close. I see, she said to herself. So you're more of a mental masochist than a physical one, are you? All right. I'll play along with you as much as you like. But you'll have to take a good deal of physical pain, too. I'm not a mental sadist-as you'll very soon find out! Aloud, she said: "That's another reason why you'll want to sleep alone tonight." He opened his eyes. "Why?"