Juliet & The Captain

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Two weeks later, Juliet had not changed her mind about the marriage proposal. If her guardian had any idea of how to woo her into an engagement, he was not letting on. In fact, his manner was even more abrupt and restrictive. He practically confined her to the house, refusing to let her ride the stallion, likely assuming that every minute, of every hour, of every day was spent in the decision he presented her.

A day before the appointed time, Juliet finally stormed into Mr. Terrell’s library.

“I will not be made to remain in this house as if I am a child, or worse yet a prisoner.” She was adamant.

“What are you talking about?” her guardian asked.

“I’m not allowed to go anywhere!” she raged. “I cannot ride my horse, I’m hardly allowed to roam the gardens.”

“These restrictions have been imposed by me,” he said.

“But why?”

“I’ve wanted your total attention where it belongs.”

“Sir, my decision was made a long time ago. I’ve not given it any consideration for the last two weeks. If you expected me to tear my hair, and gnash my teeth over this ridiculous idea of marrying you, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I see,” Mr. Terrell answered. “But be that as it may, you have another night to consider the engagement. I’ll have your final answer in the morning. Now be off, I have more important things to do.”

Why was he not hearing her? What a horrible, horrible man, she thought to herself. How could anyone ever, especially her dear mother have ever considered marrying him?

Before breakfast the following day, there was a knock at her bedroom door. Juliet was still in her dressing gown; though it was not at all unusual for Mr. Terrell to have access to her bedroom most any time, except the very dark of night.

“Has your decision changed?” he asked, as he stood before her. He was already dressed in his typical black suit and tie.

Did he still think this was a celebration day? she wondered to herself.

“No, sir,” Juliet replied adamantly. “I will not marry you.”

He nodded. “Very well then, your punishment will be administered by my groom in the stable,” he informed her.

“Sir?” she questioned him.

“I would be remiss in not correcting your great rudeness two weeks ago. Surely, you recall my promise to give you what is due, when this waiting time was over. You will go down to the stable now, and join me for breakfast after the whipping is finished. Then, we will discuss your future.”

All this talk of punishment, and her future, she was left with no time to question him, as Mr. Terrell left her directly.

The stable was a dreary place that morning. The sky was covered with dark clouds and considering the time of year, the drizzle was cold and penetrating.

Juliet approached the stable cautiously. Her only reason to consent to this was, had she objected to it, she was certain that the dreaded cane would be used instead, and she would do anything to avoid that.

Reaching the entrance, Juliet peeked inside, wondering which of Mr. Terrell’s grooms would be called on for the task. Only once before had she been punished by a groom, when Mr. Terrell had been deathly sick and she was admonished for running off, sending the whole house in a flurry at a most inappropriate time. That was several years before and not something she remembered well.

Seeing one of the grooms just emptying out a stall, Juliet stopped and waited.

“You’re here to get your due lass?” he turned to her.

“Yes,” she replied.

He nodded to the far end of the building.

“Not you?” she asked.

“No miss. I could never redden your bottom.” He said it with a genuinely kind smile.

Juliet walked further to where another groom had just brought back one of the horses from its morning workout. The man was new to her guardian’s employ, a well muscled worker with broad shoulders, collar length blond hair and tanned arms that displayed a fierce strength. She shivered nervously, afraid that this man could be quite ruthless. Perhaps she would be better off with Mr. Terrell; though in his favor, she noted that this strong fellow did have a kind expression on his face.

“The master wants your bottom strapped?” he confirmed.

She nodded, still in awe of him. Though he was not a country gentlemen, she saw that he was incredibly handsome with a look that suggested he could be as kind as he was fierce.

On a post next to him, there hung a broad leather strap which he pulled off the wall. His large hand grasped the one end, a very breathtaking picture it was. Never had she felt quite this way at the prospect of being disciplined. She was quivering nervously, unsure what strange ideas were about to burst within her.

“Best get this out of the way, Miss. Sorry to have to do it, but the master’s orders were clear. I’m to work you over a good fifteen minutes, this strap on your bare arse. I suspect you should bend over and grab the rail. I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Silently, Juliet complied. Her heart was pounding rapidly, there was something so strangely different about this punishment than any at the hands of her guardian; but she didn’t have time to decide what it was before the groom had lifted her skirt and then ordered her to remove her bloomers. Reaching around, she unbuttoned the last piece of clothing between she and the groom’s attentive eye. She was trembling so badly, her fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons, making her hands virtually useless.

Instead of watching her struggle the man’s rough hands reached out and finished the job for her, surprising her with the deft movements in such a tiny space. He left her to pull the garment down her legs, already backing away to take his aim.

The sight of the young woman’s rear gave him quite a rush, though he’d have to squelch all the lust he had and concentrate on the punishment. He would have been easy on the handsome lass, except that he was sure the master would check his work, and he couldn’t afford to loose his position by having had too much empathy for her.

Bringing the three foot strap back, he brought the implement down squarely hitting the center of Juliet’s trembling round cheeks.

She jerked, but did not cry out. He was sure that before the time was up, she would sobbing like a baby. Laying on another smack, he could see the distinct signs of her rear end reddening in response. Ah! What a fine blush, he thought to himself. Seeing the lovely pink inspired him, and he reared back again and again laying on one blow after another, each striking Juliet’s rear cheeks with a fierce stinging smack. By the end of the first dozen, her rear was already flaming red, the pink easily giving way to the vibrant crimson, though it would not stop there.

So far, the young woman had not cried out. A muffled moan escaping her lips was hardly a sign of distress. But by the end of the second dozen smacks Juliet was not so proud, as a fierce pain was beginning to rage inside her. The sting of the leather was horrible, and she was at a point where she thought she couldn’t stand anymore.

As if reading her woe from the sound of her cries, the groom paused for a few moments and allowed Juliet to quiet. But much to the poor woman’s further distress, he only began again, once she had had her respite, this time laying on the smacks with all the more furious zeal.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, one after another, after another, there didn’t see to be any end. . . . .

“Please, please, please no more,” she wailed. But the incessant beating of the leather continued. “Please sir, have mercy,” she moaned, as she clenched her teeth, and held on to the heavy wooden rail which her fists squeezed tightly. The heated assault was constant, the groom having found the steady pace he desired. He would continue until he saw that fifteen minutes had passed, and he could let the girl free. “No, please no more,” Juliet wailed. Such a vicious agony. This was of a far different quality than a caning, which stung much more, but would never last this long.

When the groom suddenly stopped, Juliet slumped to the floor and sobbed. The fire her in her bottom made her body ache, and the methodical beating of the strap seemed to go on in her mind, even though it had finally ended.

After some time, Juliet looked up to see the groom restore the leather to its place on the post.

“You best be going, miss,” he said. “The master wants you in the house for breakfast.” He was not at all unkind when he spoke, and though he had been thorough and without mercy, she now detected a softness in his manner. If just for once her guardian had displayed that kind of warmth, perhaps their relationship would have been far different.

She snuffed back her tears, wiped her face on her sleeve, and pushed herself to standing. At least her bottom was now covered, and she had no more embarrassing exposure to endure. But the man was right, she’d better leave for the house immediately. Mr. Terrell didn’t like waiting for his breakfast.

Strangely she ended up smiling at the fierce looking man, his muscles gleaming with sweat even though it was still chilly in the stable. Apparently her punishment had worked up a heat in him too. Restoring her bloomers to their proper place, she gave him one last look, and scurried back to the house.

Going in for breakfast, Juliet felt the burn on her bottom oddly pleasant. She and her guardian ate in silence. She thought that they would part that way as well, but as Mr. Terrell was about to push away from the table, he paused and looked directly at her.

“Juliet,” he addressed her.

“Yes, sir?”

“I understand you have a blood uncle in the America, in Boston I believe.”

“Yes, sir.” She was aware of her uncle, though there was only rare communication with him.

“I think it best that he take charge of you,” Mr. Terrell announced. “I will be making arrangements for your passage on the first available ship, once I’ve made contact with your uncle.”

“What?” Juliet was stunned.

“I should think a three month preparation should be adequate, providing your uncle agrees to the plan. I’ve already dispatched a letter to him.” Mr. Terrell pushed himself away from the table; and without another glance or word, he left the room, leaving Juliet in the deafening quiet that followed.