Louise Louellen – Wooden Paddle And Hard Cane For

Title: “The Rigid Caning of Illicit Love”

The afternoon solar filtered by way of the lace curtains of Mrs. Wexlebury’s parlor, casting a heat glow on the luxurious mahogany and velvet furnishings. It was a hushed, virtually reverent environment, as if the very partitions had been holding their breath in anticipation. Louise Louellen, a chastened 18-year-old redhead, stood demurely within the middle of the room, her head bowed, her fingers clasped tightly behind her again.

Across from her, Mrs. Wexlebury reclined on an opulent sofa, her lean, mature body draped in a silk negligee the colour of midnight. Her fingers, tipped with lacquered nails of deepest scarlet, drummed an ominous rhythm towards the curved armrest. The boudoir heels peeking out from below her robe clicked towards the hardwood flooring as she crossed one shapely leg over the opposite, an unconscious show of energy and dominance.

Louise squirmed below the burden of Mrs. Wexlebury’s icy gaze. She knew why she’d been summoned. The whispers among the many maids had been rife, the scandalous rumors unimaginable to disregard. Louise, the bright-eyed younger nursemaid, had been caught in a compromising place with Mr. Wexlebury, her employer…and Mrs. Wexlebury’s husband. The indiscretion, usually grounds for speedy dismissal, had been stored below wraps – however not with out consequence.

“Louise, my dear,” Mrs. Wexlebury purred, her voice low and harmful. “What have we discussed about fraternizing with the staff? With my husband, especially?”

Louise swallowed laborious, her face flushing crimson. “Forgive me, Madam. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Wexlebury stood, her heels clicking menacingly as she approached the cowering lady. She traced her nails alongside the curve of Louise’s jaw, tilting her chin as much as drive eye contact. “Oh, I’m certain it won’t. Not after today.”

With that, Mrs. Wexlebury stepped again, retrieving a formidable wood paddle from its place of prominence on the wall. The implement’s floor gleamed with the sheen of numerous earlier makes use of, and Louise could not suppress a shudder on the considered it putting her tender flesh.

“Strip,” Mrs. Wexlebury commanded, her tone permitting no argument. “And assume the position.”

With shaking fingers, Louise peeled off her maid uniform, the material slithering to the ground in a pool of white muslin. She stood earlier than her mistress, vibrating with nerves and disgrace in nothing however her undergarments. A second later, these too had been solid apart, leaving her naked and susceptible.

The very air appeared to cost with electrical stress as Louise bent over the padded footstool, presenting her agency, youthful backside for self-discipline. Her coronary heart pounded in her ears, her breath coming fast and shallow. She might really feel Mrs. Wexlebury’s eyes raking over her uncovered pores and skin, and he or she instinctively clenched her muscle groups in anticipation of the primary strike.

It got here with a convincing crack, the paddle’s contact sending ripples of ache and shock by way of Louise’s being. She yelped, her fingers clutching uselessly on the upholstery. Before she might get well, the implement fell again– and repeatedly, every blow reigniting the warmth blossoming throughout her posterior.

Louise squirmed and writhed, emotional and bodily misery overwhelming her. Tears flowed freely, carving tracks by way of her blushing cheeks. “Please,” she begged between labored gasps, “Please, Mrs. Wexlebury! No more!”

The older girl paid her pleas no thoughts, persevering with the unrelenting assault. The paddle’s whoosh and thwack grew to become the one sounds within the room, punctuated by Louise’s escalating cries. After an eternity, Mrs. Wexlebury paused, her chest heaving with exertion, her hair coming free from its once-neat updo.

Louise remained panting and sobbing over the stool, her reddened backside throbbing in time along with her racing heartbeat. In her peripheral imaginative and prescient, she noticed Mrs. Wexlebury lay apart the paddle and choose up one thing else – an extended, slim piece of polished wooden. A cane. Louise whimpered in renewed trepidation.

“I’m not finished with you yet, girl,” Mrs. Wexlebury intoned darkly. “This is just the beginning of your penance for your reckless transgressions. Now, compose yourself.”

It took each ounce of Louise’s dwindling will to cease her physique’s frantic quaking. She steeled herself for the lacerating kiss of the cane, realizing no quantity of pleas would keep Mrs. Wexlebury’s wrath.

The first searing line ignited throughout Louise’s tender sit-spots, and he or she screeched like a scalded cat, involuntarily scrabbling on the footstool. Mrs. Wexlebury swung the cane repeatedly, portray vivid welts in jagged pink throughout Louise’s beforehand virgin pores and skin. The lady’s screams echoed off the plaster partitions in a determined, keening cadence.

After a dozen depraved slashes, Mrs. Wexlebury ceased her barrage. Louise lay shuddered and mewling over the seat, her fiery ass a map of the self-discipline. Uncharacteristic mercy appeared to tug at her mistress’ lips – till Louise felt a trickle of cool liquid splash throughout probably the most tender and burning spots. She set free a keening wail, realizing it was aloe.

“Shhh , little one,” Mrs. Wexlebury hushed, working the soothing gel into Louise’s flaming pores and skin. “You took your punishment beautifully. I’m almost tempted to forget our animosity and take you back to the bedchamber…” The older girl’s voice took on a husky, salacious tone.

Slowly, rigorously, Mrs. Wexlebury helped Louise rise, wrapping her in a cotton gown and easing her onto the sofa. The youthful girl collapsed towards the cushions, prepared her perceptions to type themselves into some understandable order.

Mrs. Wexlebury perched beside her, a glance of inscrutable evaluation on her visage. “You are dismissed for the day, Louise. Rest, recover – and perhaps reconsider any future dalliances. Professionals adhere to a higher standard. Don’t you agree?”

Wordlessly, Louise nodded, her voice field not cooperating. Mrs. Wexlebury smirked, patting Louise’s knee as she rose. She sauntered in direction of the door, her heels clicking a haunting chorus towards the hardwood. At the edge, she glanced again, her gaze smoldering and realizing.

“This is our little secret…for now. Do try to behave, my dear.” With that, she was gone, leaving Louise shattered and trembling in her wake – and with an entire new understanding of the highwire of masquerades and transgression Mrs. Wexlebury appeared to relish enkindling.