A Month With Mr. Martin (A Sequel to The Headmaster's Schoolgirl Wife)

A Taste of Freedom

Alexis carried the stack of used breakfast dishes into the kitchen, her movements slow and encumbered.  She’d endured several days of Charles’ unwanted attentions to her sweet little hiney,  but this morning a ray of hope shone into her forsaken existence at the Martin estate.

Earlier she’d found a small kitchen window propped open with a small piece of wood, the only ground-level opening she’d seen that wasn’t locked closed.  It was just big enough for her to clamber through.  She’d found a stool and poked her head out.  Freedom!  Or so she’d thought.  She’d already plotted her next move: she’d find a payphone, call Jack, and be shopping by the afternoon, putting the last few days behind her.

But as soon as she’d moved the piece of wood a bell had rung and footsteps had begun approaching.  Then she’d found the window was fitted with a mechanism that prevented it from opening any further.  Panicking as the steps grew closer, she nonetheless wedged her upper body into the gap before hearing a snapping sound… and finding her hips firmly stuck in place, legs flailing inside the house.

The footsteps had arrived and Charles’ voice intruded, sending chills down her spine.  “Well, well… savoring a taste of freedom, were we?”

Looking behind her she discovered her shoulders had set off a spring-loaded board that made the gap too narrow for her hips.  It had snapped around her waist, holding her securely in place.  She also couldn’t reverse course, as her shoulders were too large to fit back inside the smaller gap.

She looked longingly across the open countryside to the nearby town.  So close, and yet so far.

Smack!  With her buttocks framed in the windowsill, she realized this position was unfortunately also quite suitable for other purposes.  Smack!

Poor Alexis had already that morning endured a “wake-up spanking,” a “motivational” slippering, and an “attitude adjustment” with a hairbrush for allegedly rolling her eyes. That last had smarted enough to leave her sobbing. 

Her despair deepened.  She could only imagine how dreadful an “attempted escape” punishment would be.

Smack! Charles’ voice rang out again.  “Perhaps a taste of leather instead?”

She heard the cook’s indecipherable brogue, then “Yes, thank you, that’s perfect.”  SMACK!  A leather paddle began a staccato rhythm.

Alexis yowled, hearing the sound echo from the distant hills.  If the racket reached anyone else’s ears, they just assumed the old Headmaster was educating another unlucky student, nothing unusual… and perhaps smiled or slipped a hands down their pants, glad it wasn’t themselves howling their distress across the countryside.  Tears dripped onto the ground beneath her, as the spanking went on quite long enough for anyone enjoying the moment to reach a climactic ending.  Afterwards, of course, they only felt sorry for whatever yowling miscreant was suffering his wrath, and perhaps a touch guilty.

“WAHHAAA!  I’M SORRY!  OH SIR! WAHA! I’ll BE GOOD! WAAAAHAA!”

When he was satisfied with the uncontrolled nature of her sobbing he pulled her loose to collapse on the floor, clutching her scarlet, tormented buttocks.  The cook grinned and capered, bringing Charles several clinking objects.  “And some jewelry for our little runaway.  A couple bracelets, a necklace, and these lovelies for your ankles.” 

She wouldn’t be running away now, reflected Alexis ruefully, a bit perplexed by the cook’s inordinate glee.  The wretch always enjoyed Alexis’ punishments, that was never in doubt, but this development seemed to put a new twist to her smile.  The restraints were fur-lined and almost luxurious, but severely restricted her movements nonetheless.  The cook’s eyes sparkled as she whispered soft, incomprehensible promises to the lovely heiress, who shuddered.  The gist was clear, even if not a single clear word could be teased free. 

Charles Martin instructed her to assist the cook in whatever she required, and Alexis spent the next half hour scrubbing the dishes, a dreadfully plebian task even had she not known whose dishes they were.  Her adornments clanked and rattled as she worked, tears drying on her cheeks.  Several times she caught the cook leering, or heard a soft moan and saw rough hands stealing guiltily away from rubbing shirt or pants.

Now the cook pointed to a dim corner.  Alexis didn’t like her small twisted smile, or understand why she wanted dirty bowls placed next to the spice cupboard, but moved cautiously where she’d indicated. 

The cooks’ hands flashed.  Caught off-guard, Alexis fell to her knees as she was yanked downward.  The small drawer that emerged caught Alexis’ manacles precisely and pinned them to the opposite counter.  A small latch secured it in place.  Dishes clattered everywhere.

Alarmed, Alex struggled but quickly found she couldn’t budge, nor could her hands reach the latch.  The cook’s delight was obvious as she climbed up on to the counter, putting her waist at the same level as Alexis’ mouth, now openly rubbing her own nipples, flexing her hips lewdly.

She’d endured the cooks leers, intimate pinches, and indecipherable (though surely untoward) comments for a few days now.  Fearing what the horny, perverted cripple had in mind for her, Alexis whined and twisted her head away, pulling at her bonds to no avail.  She called for Charles, but heard no answering response.  It seemed there was no escape. In a panic Alexis realized the cook was going to have her way with her, however she liked, and there was nothing she could do about it.  She whined and collapsed against her restraints, upper lip trembling.

‘G’t’d’sh’wh’t,” the cook cooed softly.  The cook’s skirt flipped up and from the state of her panties the stricken girl could immediately tell she had enjoyed Alexis’ window punishment very much indeed.  And she was going to enjoy it some more right now, if her salacious grin and hips shuffling forward across the counter were any indication.  Alexis grimaced in horror and tried to move away, but the effort was futile.  Her fate approached inexorably.

“Th’t’s’g’g, y’j’l’m’s’u’cls.”  The cook caressed her hair, drooling.  She lowered her sticky panties to show Alexis she was drooling down there as well.   Her smile was now relaxed and amused, a cat with a helpless toy.  Disgusted, but also a little curious, Alexis realized distantly she probably wasn’t the first girl in Charles Martin’s household to find herself in this predicament.  And what a predicament!  She tried to look away but her head was seized.

“No, no, nmmmph!” Alexis found her protests stifled as the grinning cook shoved her naked wet crotch into the heiress’ flinching face.  The unfamiliar scent and taste of a woman’s aroused sex suffused her nose and mouth. 

“Lick, y’htn’g’f’n’t’n!”  Well, she’d understood one of those words.  And didn’t like it.  To be used so by such an ugly creature!  And between her legs!  Put her tongue on it, no less!  There were limits to what a lady could endure.  This was simply too much.

Alexis shook her head back and forth in negation, inadvertently spreading the cook’s creamy secretions across her own face. “Nmmmph!  NNNNMPH!”  She was not going to service this cripple’s perverted lusts!  The very idea!  It was too awful to consider!

Undeterred, the cook produced a large wooden spoon.  Alexis’ eyes widened and her resolve dimmed.

“N’a’lit’mr’en?”  She waggled the spoon teasingly in front of Alexis’ eyes, then reached behind her and brought it down hard on her already-sore bottom.

CRACK! Alexis’ head jerked back, freeing her lips. “Ow!”  Pleased, the cook bent again.

CRACK! “Oh!”

CRACK! “Aaah! Stop please!”  But that didn’t seem likely.

CRACK! “Mrffff!”  Tears burst from Alexis’ eyes as the cook stifled her cries by shuffling her nude buttocks closer, clenching her meaty thighs around the girl’s head.  CRACK!  Oh how it hurt! CRACK! It was so unfair!  CRACK! So humiliating!

CRACK! Another spot just at the crown of her ass went white on impact, leaving a terrible sting and a bright red mark. “Mmmmmf!” Alexis wailed into the sopping pussy, sending a thrill of delight up the spine of the kitchen’s undisputed master.  CRACK! She could hardly wait till the little slut was tamed and tonguing her.  CRACK!  By the sounds of her crying it wouldn’t be long now.  CRACK!

CRACK! Alexis struggled but was held fast.  Well, she supposed the other girls had survived, she’d just have to make the best of it.  She took a tentative lick of the cook’s creamy nether lips and shuddered in distaste.  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!  Best being a very relative term, in the circumstances, she thought as the cook noted her reluctance and sought to engage her interest, laying several hits onto the same spot, making the poor rich girl writhe in agony. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! 

The now properly motivated Alexis bent to her task with new enthusiasm.  The cook closed her eyes and sighed.  Working for Mr. Martin certainly had its benefits! This kitten was learning to appreciate cream.

CRACK! “Mmf!”

CRACK! “Mmff!  Mmf mfmm!”

CRACK! Alexis tried desperately to inform the avidly bucking cripple that additional spanking was not necessary, she was doing her very best to get the other woman off, and would continue to do so, and might even be better at it without the distraction of a very painful spanking.  CRACK!  But nothing she said could be understood, an irony the Scottish woman appreciated in droves.  CRACK! She didn’t particularly care what the young miss was saying anyways, the little bitch was going to get spanked just the same, just as they all did.  CRACK! Alexis sobbed in utter despair, working her tongue across the unfamiliar valleys and nubs of another woman for the first time in her chaste, privileged life.  CRACK! 

Over the next several minutes the cook’s grin grew wider and her moans grew deeper.  CRACK!  One hand grabbed Alexis’ hair and the other chastised her.  CRACK!  She groaned and ground her hips fiercely against the fine features of the aristocrat’s face.

She enjoyed all Mr. Martin’s tenants, but it was quite a surpassing delight to take advantage of a posh English tart.  “O’y’lt’bt,t’a’it’ she moaned unintelligibly, sensing a truly epic climax rushing its way towards her.  CRACK! She encouraged its approach with the spoon.  CRACK!

“Mmfmmmfm!” came Alexis’ counterpoint.  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Alexis howled into the cook’s spasming pussy as the spoon fell to the floor, forgotten and clattering on the hardwood, but kept their lips locked together.  The cook strained in the throes of a violent orgasm for a full minute, thrusting into Alexis’ aghast face over and over, then finally relaxed, wiping sweat from her brow.  She lay on her back on the counter, not moving for several minutes, both women catching their breath and recovering from the ordeal.  Delicate features slathered in passion, crumpled in self-loathing at what she’d been made to do, Alexis’ sobs gradually came under control and she fervently hoped kitchen duty was over with.

But it was not to be.  Rising, the cook smiled her crooked smile at Alexis and picked up the spoon again, cooing incoherencies, all too clearly ready for another painful, humiliating round of face-rape.  Alexis moaned as she saw her lift the terrible spoon.

CRACK!

Alexis wailed in despair, her brief respite ended.  CRACK!

Her nemesis scooted closer.  “Please no, you don’t have to mmmmmm, I’ll mmmmmm…” CRACK!

It was a long morning for Alexis. 

She served lunch in a daze, face still smeared and reeking of the cook’s juices, ass throbbing unmercifully.  Somehow Charles’ wry remarks on her appearance still made her blush, even though they seemed to come from far away.

After that day Alexis didn’t try to run away again, and did her best to avoid the kitchens and their leering, limping mistress, who couldn’t wait for an excuse to repeat the painful, humiliating performance, perhaps with added ginger or hot peppers.  When her presence was absolutely necessary, Alexis bowed and scraped and bared herself for the wicked spoon, but avoided the treacherous corner at all costs.  One taste of freedom had been enough.