CASTLE 06


Several weeks had passed since Fred had made his last visit, when he had  found himself reluctantly but energetically strapping the suffering Girl with the wicked leather belt.  He still blushed with the deepest shame at the memory.

Autumn was beginning to set in by now and the Girl was being kept busy by sweeping  fallen leaves from the gravelled paths and the perfectly manicured lawns.  Fitch was constantly behind her to ensure that she did not slack. His sturdy leather belt was always at the ready and the eagle eye of the Mistress was ever on the pair to make sure that the Slave was working and the overseer was being suitably strict in punishing her failures, which were legion in the Mistress’s eyes.

The sharp crack of leather on flesh was a familiar sound by this time about the ancient home. The Girl had become used to the shame and loneliness of it all by now and the tears no longer coursed down her sweet face after a particularly brutal punishment, witnessed by one or more of the Mistress‘s harridan friends. She had always been  hard enough on the outside - famous for it! Now her inner self had adjusted as well.

“I hear the Girl is getting it again!” said Mr Jenkins to Mrs Huskisson as the sounds came in through the open pantry window to where the two of them were enjoying a welcome glass of sherry.

“She never learns - that one. Idle as they come. Make sure she gets some from you, Mrs Huskisson when she comes to clean out the kitchens later! We mustn’t be soft on that wicked bitch. Remember how she stank out the town when she was begging there?  Shocking!”

“I certainly do remember, Mr Jenkins.” replied Matilda Huskisson.  “The poor dear Mistress was terribly distressed that day when she was accosted and importuned by the shameless idle wretch.  It took me all afternoon to comfort her. Well - the Girl’s learning now the hard way that she can’t get away with being a dirty parasite.  Never fear, Mr Jenkins! I know my duty and I am not afraid to do it!”

“God bless you, my dear lady!”

They treated themselves to another glass apiece of their employer’s sherry  and went about their separate tasks. Mrs Huskisson went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner for the Mistress and a large gathering of guests. She examined the potatoes which the Girl had spent the early hours in peeling. At first, she was afraid there were no traces of peel left on any of them, but the disappointment faded when she discovered the merest trace of peel remaining on one of them. The rest of the vegetables had been prepared perfectly, however and even the vicious Matilda felt, with some regret, that she had no valid excuse to add to the Girl’s sufferings on this occasion. There was always the next day, though. Hope springs eternal. Never give up hope!

Meanwhile, the Girl’s tough as leather backside was smarting after yet another of Fitch’s reluctantly applied beltings. She knew that Mrs Fitch had to put up with much worse and also that the gardener’s heart was not in it by this time. There were even times that the Girl was inclined to like him. Compared to the others, he was gentleness personified!

The leaves were falling all the time in late  September and she had no sooner swept and cleared the paths and lawns when her efforts were rendered useless by another gust of wind leaving her with yet more leaves  to be cleared. There were weeks and weeks of this wearisome task still to come! Her heart sank at the thought!

Much of the garden was on a slope, and a pretty steep one at that. Mrs Bottomley, her Mistress, had decided on the construction of an elaborate series of terraces and the back breaking task of digging them out and moving vast quantities of earth and stones had fallen to the Girl - who else?  She had lost count of the times she had wheeled soil and rocks up that precipitous incline to the accompaniment of curses from the Mistress and blows from Fitch applying spade and shovel, forcing them into the ground with her hardened bare feet.

 Privately, the gardener had told her how well she had done and  the Girl and  Fitch were both of them very pleased, both  at their progress and the beauty of what they were achieving together. She wished it all gave her bum less pain, though!

The Girl was inclined to love her outdoor work and every morning when her other duties were over, she was delighted to be in the clean fresh air. Rain or shine, it was all the same to her. To be out of the Castle and away from the awful Mistress and contemptible Jenkins/Huskisson was sheer bliss. The prospect of Winter and the end , for some months, of these happy times,  filled her with dread.

The worst part of the day was when she was finally  allowed to go  up to her little room, with its bare stone walls, high narrow window and wooden boards for a bed. No mattress and no blankets had been provided for the poor Girl and she was already finding the nights uncomfortable, sleep eluding  her in the chill, despite her utter weariness after a long and gruelling day.

To think she that had once, long ago, known comfort! Of course, she had also known similar discomfort , as well as the frequent and muscular application of the strap and cane  to her bare bottom - her parents had sent her to a VERY good school, where her behaviour had not always been the best! But, at school she had always had companions in disgrace and misfortune.  There was none of this awful loneliness.

At night in the dorm,  after some punishment or other, the girls would compare their various bruises and vie with one another as to whose bottom had acquired the most colourful marks! She had invariably  been the winner in these unofficial contests, being a wild girl with scant  respect for Authority. The memory made her smile as the forced the spade into the ground and dug out more of the terracing.

Late afternoon brought Fitch’s departure.

“See you in the morning, Girl! We’re making progress, you and I!”

“See you, Sir.” replied the Girl, blinking back the tears as she saw his familiar figure shuffle away. She resisted the temptation to say “Give my regards to Mrs Fitch.”  That would most likely NOT be a healthy thing to say.

She put all the garden things away in the shed and said farewell to them until the morrow. Then she made her way to the kitchen and Matilda Huskisson. She felt sick with dread.

“Oh! There you are, you lazy cow! It’s not that far from the gardens to the kitchen. Smarten yourself up and get a move on with the cleaning. I want the floors scrubbed. If I see a speck of dust when you’ve finished, you’ll be for it. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Yes, Madam - I get beaten again.”

“Right! So make a good job of it - bitch!”

“Yes, Madam.”

With this she got onto her knees and started scrubbing for all she was worth.  She never knew what was worse, the scrubbing or the final drying. The Girl knew by now that it made no difference how careful and thorough she was, she would always be judged to have left a spot undone. Occasionally the strict Matilda would be too busy to make a thorough check and she would be safe, but as often as not the end of this task would be followed by more painful contact with leather.

This time she was lucky. There was a banquet this evening and Matilda was rushed off her feet. As soon as the floor was clean, the Girl was drafted to assist with the cooking. She liked this a lot, considering herself a much better cook than Matilda, but not daring to say as much!

She wondered how the canapés would be received by the guests. Sadly, it was unlikely she would ever know how her handiwork had gone down. A naked Girl was not thought to be a fit servant to wait on some very important men. There had been a steady stream of  women visitors, anxious to gloat over her misfortunes and add to them,  after that first day when they had witnessed her dousing with water.

As the time to serve the feast drew near, Jenkins came bustling into the kitchen.  He looked critically at the Girl’s shapely arse and saw approvingly  that it was red.  He gave it a cheery slap.

“I see Mrs Huskisson has chastised you, as you deserve. Well done Matilda!”, he said approvingly.

Matilda was about to say that she had been too busy, alas.  Then she though better of it and held her peace. She did not want to be told off. Just as well that Fitch’s earlier valiant efforts had not yet faded!

Jenkins spoke again to the Girl.

“This is your big day, Girl! You are to wait at the table. Make no mistakes, or that lazy backside will know all about it!  Follow my instructions to the letter!”

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“I understand we are to be waited on by the ex beggar girl.” said Colonel Blunderston, as he was shown to his place in the dining hall.

“Yes, Colonel.” We have been trying to make her see the error of her ways for a while now but all our best endeavours seem to be for nothing,” replied Dorothy.

The other guests settled themselves around the fine old banqueting table and waited for the first course to be served. First of all the dignified figure of Mr Jenkins walked through the doors to the kitchen, followed  at a respectful distance by a naked young woman. Several of the male guests gasped in amazement and delight.

This Girl was wheeling a large container from which she proceeded to serve soup . Considering that she had never before done this, having no more idea of what to do than she had learnt from being waited on herself in happier days, she did a pretty good job, and not even the watchful Jenkins could see any just cause to administer chastisement. “Damn!” he thought, his hand itching in its frustration.

Of course it was too good to last! Disaster struck during the fish course, in the form of one of the guests succumbing to temptation and pinching the Girl on her left bottom cheek just as she was in the act of serving vegetables to the Colonel’s wife.  This unfortunate lady heard a not successfully suppressed shriek from the ruby lips of the naked servant and immediately afterwards felt a searing pain in her breast as something very hot slipped down her cleavage.

The poor Girl apologised profusely but knew it would be useless to point out to the Colonel’s wife that all would have been well if only her husband had kept his hands to himself. She was wise enough by now to know that when in a hole, the last thing to do is dig oneself more deeply in.

She did her best to help the unfortunate woman, who was not inclined to make a fuss. Truth to tell, she had a pretty good idea what had happened and she smiled her thanks at the embarrassed girl’s attempts to help.  
Dorothy was a different matter, though!

“You wicked, vicious, ungrateful slut! I give you shelter and food.  I try to reform you and lead you back to decency and self respect by giving you work and THIS is how you repay me! Get out of our
sights this instant.”

 The Girl fled weeping and red-faced from the room.

“She may be a clumsy Girl” said the  County Archivist, “but she is very decorative, as I am sure the gentlemen would agree. Perhaps she could adorn our feast without spilling more food upon us! I seem to recall, from my researches in the County Records that one mediaeval Lord of this place had a cage which hung from the ceiling of this very room. He was wont to confine recalcitrant maidens  therein who had the temerity to resist his advances until they saw the error of their ways! Does the Cage still exist? I feel sure it must. Put her in there and we can admire her loveliness as we feast and eat.”

Dorothy, delighted at this suggestion, assured the gathering that the Cage did indeed still exist and in very good condition, along with its chain.  Within ten minutes, the contraption was rigged up and the Girl found herself swinging gently to and fro stooping in the confined space and with fifty pairs of eyes from time to time amusedly looking at her.

The cramp and discomfort as she endured the insolent scrutiny of so many people was bad enough. The public shame and humiliation were far harder to bear. But all this, the Girl knew, was as nothing to what would happen to her once the gathering had dispersed and gone home.

Once she was lowered to the ground and released and then directed to complete clearing and washing up after the banquet, a vigilant Jenkins making very sure that none of the leftovers passed down her throat, she was led into the presence of the Mistress. The Mistress was in a foul mood and the poor Girl saw only doom and a great deal of imminent pain written on that podgy face.

When she lay down on her hard, bare bed many wicked and  stinging blows later, she almost shrieked as her body touched the boards. For the first night since arriving here she had no sleep at all  and contemplated flight.

“I can’t take any more. It’s no use. I’ll have to get out of here” she sobbed to herself as the night wore on and the morning came.

But - when she found herself once more in the garden and started to help with the landscaping, her spirits lifted.

“It will all look so lovely from the parlour window, when it is finished and from the summer house I have built almost single handed. It’s worth it. It really is. I’ll stay and let them do their worst!

Fitch looked at her back and at her bottom, all covered in horrible red welts. Even he looked shocked.

“I don’t know what you did, but it must have been pretty bad. I’ll not touch  you today. You‘ve had enough for many days to come.   She can sack me if she likes! ”

“The Colonel pinched my bum as I was serving  his lady wife and I tipped something hot down her front. I though the beating would never stop, Mr Fitch. And before that they hung me in the old cage and I was stared at by them all for hours as they all jeered at me. It was the worst day yet! ”

Fitch nodded. He had heard something as he had come through the Great Hall to get to the garden. Matilda and Jenkins had been chuckling together and talking to the grocer’s boy, who had gone white when he heard what had happened.