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Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 6
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Saturday, May 20, 2006 - 05:01 pm: | 
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I don't have a title for this, but the only summary I can give is to say that it's set during the French Revolution.
I'd post the whole thing here, but I don't know what the page limit is. This is nine pages and I thought it would make too long of a post.
(Message edited by bethie on May 20, 2006) |
Blistering_blonde
Junior Spanko
Username: Blistering_blonde
Post Number: 63
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, May 20, 2006 - 08:01 pm: |
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Would LOVE to read it ...BUT .. you need to sign in for that site ...and since i have NEVER heard of that site ...and my firewall is faulty ..i can not go there ..BUT ..I do admit that was a good idea...on posting else where ...but you could ALWAYS make a part 2 here if you think story too long |
Bethie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Bethie
Post Number: 846
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 01:31 am: |
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You can post it here if you'd like. Since it's that long, could it be divided into chapters or parts? I really don't like direct links out of this site. I also don't like links posted when I don't know where they lead. I can't tell if it meets with our site protocols or not. Thanks.
(Message edited by bethie on May 20, 2006) |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 8
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 03:41 am: |
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My only concern was that it would be too long. I've been chastised on other sites for posting such long posts. I didn't mean to cause any trouble.  |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 9
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 03:44 am: |
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Untitled
Allyriane D’Aubigne reached a marrying age at a most inopportune time. The third child of soon-to-be displaced French nobility, she knew that she was of little consequence to her father, Alain duc D’Aubigne and of even less to the red-capped peasants that she knew would someday break down the doors of their estate and possibly take all of them to the National Razor. Allyriane’s mother, Galatée, knew she had little influence on her husband’s decisions, but she also knew what the Revolution had done to the man she married. She had seen this gray, sullen Saturday morning coming for some time.
“We must make ourselves as little of a threat as possible,” Alain growled as he stood before a window in the library of his extensive estate.
“But selling your only daughter into servitude?” Galatée gasped.
“Exactly—a daughter. Our sons must be of more concern to us as they will be the ones to carry on our line should we fall into the hands of the regime,” Alain said coldly.
“I will not allow this,” Galatée replied daringly. “I will not allow you to sell our child like a piece of livestock.”
“You would see us all dragged to the guillotine, Galatée?” Alain barked, rounding on her.
“Oui, if it meant keeping our family together,” she replied, slowly becoming braver in her defiance.
“I have made my decision, wife. You will abide by it,” Alain growled, coming closer to her. “Daughters are never of much consequence to a family. The estate is entailed to our eldest, Charles and if not to him, then to Bryce, but she will come into little more than the annual allowance I have accorded her in the event of my death.”
“You sent for me, Father?” said Charles upon entering the room. Charles was dashing and tall, his tousled blonde hair crowned blue eyes and a handsome smile. Charles was lean, but strong and was thus his father’s image as well as his pride and joy. At the age of 23, he was as charming as he was good-looking, and was well favored in society.
“Have the arrangements been made?” Alain asked.
“The heirlooms and paintings are en route to our allies in England, and the wagon and carriages are being prepared as we speak. I have but one question, Father. Why are there but four places being made? Do you wish me to stay behind to defend our home?” Charles asked, squaring his broad shoulders.
“No, my son. Your sister will join another family for the duration of the war. We haven’t enough room for her,” Alain replied.
“Your will is always my command, Father, but tell me, could we not divide the accommodations differently? My brother and sister and I could ride in one carriage and you and mother the other,” Charles suggested.
“There you have it,” Galatée begged. “There is time yet to change this!” Seconds later, Bryce, the second of Alain and Galatée’s children burst unannounced into the room.
“What is the meaning of this?” Bryce shouted. “My sister has been led from the house bound in ropes like a common scullery wench!”
“Are you certain?” Charles demanded of his slighter, bookish younger brother. He rested a hand on Bryce’s shoulder and said, “Our Father has just said to me that she is to join another household to wait out the war in safety.”
“Lies!” roared Bryce, shaking off Charles’ hand. “She was taken by way of the back doors and fought the ruffians that handled her so roughly. She went not by her own will. What is the meaning of this?”
“Is this true, Father?” Charles asked, fighting not to clench his teeth as he spoke. Alain remained facing the tall window with its prospect of the small hills and lake that graced the grounds.
“There you have it now, Alain. You’ve disgraced yourself in the eyes of your sons,” muttered Galatée above her tears.
“Then it is true. You have sold our only sister into slavery,” Charles said in shock.
“I have,” said Alain, turning finally to face his sons. “My decision is final and as such it is beyond reproach. You will join us in the coaches now and go to safety with the rest of the family or you will no longer have my name or my fortune to call your own. Make your choice!” With this, Alain stormed out of the library, leaving his family too stunned to respond. Galatée sank to the floor, her skirts billowing around her and wept into her hands as she bent to the floor. Bryce went to her and wrapped his protective arms around her.
“Weep not, Mother. We shall make this right,” Bryce murmured. “Shan’t we, brother?”
“This will not be born,” Charles replied, reaching to help their mother up from the floor. “Father cannot be allowed to simply sell us like slaves. We are not his property.”
“We shall never see her again, my darlings,” whimpered Galatée. “Your sister is lost to us forever.”
“Have no fear, mother,” Charles said, producing his handkerchief for her as they made their way to the front door. “I will not have peace until Allyriane is safely back home with us. I may take time, but I *will* bring her home.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“You’ll do well to learn your place, woman,” said a man in a harsh black suit as he roughly pushed Allyriane into a cart. “Your master fetched a high price for one as pretty as you.”
“I do not understand what is happening!” Allyriane wept. “Why have I been sold thus?” Without another word, the man locked the cart and ordered it away, leaving Allyriane to further muse why her own family had betrayed her at the tender age of 20. At this age, she should have been practicing her piano-forte, or improving her skill at the needle and certainly she should have been attending parties and balls with her brothers in order to someday capture the attention of a worthy young gentleman. Instead, she was now heading down an unkempt road toward an unpredictable fate.
“I have no master,” Allyriane growled; one last attempt to get free. “No master save for my—” she stopped herself just short of the end of the statement, the realization suddenly dawning on her that she had just been betrayed by her own father. Desolate, the poor girl fell silent as she resigned herself to the fact that her own family had for no reason suddenly rejected her.
By nightfall, all of the slaves collected that day were chained and imprisoned in a damp cellar dungeon for the night. By ten the next morning, she had been purchased and she shook in uncertainty as she rode in the back of a wagon toward her new home.
The rest of the morning was a blur to Allyriane. The head housekeeper, a stocky, broad-faced woman of about 55 years, had shortened her name to Ally—a name she allowed no one to call her other than her own brothers—and had assigned her quarters with three other maids. Allyriane cried in silence that night as the other girls chattered or read before blowing out the lamps. Allyriane found their manner and language to be coarse and the smell even worse.
“This here your first placement, love?” asked one of her roommates, a buxom red-head who looked to be about 5 years older than she.
“Yes it is,” Allyriane replied, trying to pretend that she hadn’t been crying.
“Everyone cries their first night. Just seems like too much to take in. Everything’s new. New house, new duties, new people. Even smells different. Don’tcha worry none. I been hearin’ from the servants that are already here that the master is a good man. At any rate, it’ll be better than our last position, isn’t that right, Cammi, dear?” the red-head babbled.
“Got that right, Cerise. Couldn’t get much worse than Master Beltane. There was a ‘belt’ in his name for a reason,” Cammi replied.
“I heard that he once beat a man for bringing food to a starving child,” added a third roommate.
“Don’t ya be making stuff up now, Angie,” Cerise warned. Angie, or Angelette, demurred and said no more.
“Master Beltane was heartless, but he wasn’t no starver of innocents,” Cerise defended. “He wasn’t like some that would trample a young one beneath the carriage wheels and then try to buy away the grief of the little one’s father.”
“You know that for a fact? That actually happened?” ventured Allyriane.
“Of course it did,” Cerise murmured, sliding further beneath the covers. “I just know that this new Master—Master Hardouin—is a better man. A strict master, but a better man. Now, that’s enough out of all of us. Gonna be a long day tomorrow and we best be awake when the bells ring.” With this, all four girls settled in to the two beds in the room and fell quickly asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
This first morning, Allyriane discovered that the estate staff consisted of all new people. She discovered as she assisted with the polishing of the silver that the original staff had been dismissed and all new staff had been acquired save for the frumpy head housekeeper, and only she knew the reason that Master Hardouin had gone for a week during this transition. According to her, some treasure from a friend’s estate had been spirited away and the Master had gone all the way to Paris to try to retrieve it. The whole household came to a halt when the Master returned two days ahead of schedule.
Allyriane watched as the Master got down out of the carriage bearing a large wicker basket that he handed directly to the housekeeper. With this, he removed his gloves and his hat and handed them to his personal manservant and proceeded into the main house.
Allyriane and her roommates fell under his shadow as he passed through the room where they were polishing the silver and the other three girls proceeded to curtsey, though each was shaking under the gaze of the unfamiliar man. Allyriane, half too shocked to move and half unaccustomed to curtseying to a man her equal in station, simply stood and stared.
“Is there something wrong?” Master Hardouin demanded. A violent shudder suddenly buckled Allyriane’s arms and the tray full of silver clattered noisily to the floor at the Master’s feet. Allyriane gasped and averted her eyes, dropping to her knees and starting to hurriedly pick up the fallen silver.
“What’s happened here?” shouted the housekeeper, pushing Angelette over to get to the front of the scene.
“I’m afraid I’ve rather startled this one,” the master replied simply.
“I’ll handle it, Master. This won’t happen again,” the housekeeper growled. She yanked Allyriane up off the floor and started to pull her toward the kitchen, but Master Hardouin stopped her.
“I’ll handle this. Send her to my library at once and I’ll be there presently,” Hardouin replied. Terrified, she shook as she waited in the silence of the library. The master’s footsteps thudded heavily on the floors and stopped to open the door. Allyriane forced herself not to look as he approached and came to stand in front of her. She kept her eyes on the floor as he slowly circled her.
“I don’t know what other households you have served, but in my home, you will show proper respect when your betters are in the room, do I make myself clear?” Hardouin said. His voice betrayed only firmness and authority.
“Yes, sir,” Allyriane murmured.
“Look at me,” Hardouin said. Allyriane complied.
“What is your name?” Hardouin demanded.
“Allyriane D’Aubigne, sir,” Allyriane replied, trembling more now.
“I do not appreciate liars, woman,” Hardouin warned. “What business would a noble woman have being in the position of a servant?”
“Sir, c’est vrai…it is true!” Allyriane murmured, fighting tears of fear. Hardouin took her arm and walked her to a corner. Forcing her to face it, he once again spoke, “If I find out that you have lied to me regarding your name, I shall return to give you a lashing the likes of which you have not yet dreamed. Remain here.”
Master Hardouin left the library and as soon as he was out of earshot, Allyriane continued to cry softly. For some reason, Allyriane entertained a wicked thought. She wanted it. She wanted just one swat to bring the harsh sting of the paddle against her innocent flesh. Quickly, she banished this thought from her mind. What business did she have actually inviting more trouble than she was already in?
As she mused this, Master Hardouin returned and with him, the brutish housekeeper. She took Allyriane out of the library and returned her to her duties. For the rest of the day, she could think of nothing but Master Hardouin. His tall, muscular build, his dark hair and brown eyes, the strength of his arm and of course, there was that thought of the paddle—all of these kept Allyriane’s dangerously innocent imagination racing all afternoon.
When night fell, Allyriane was summoned to Master Hardouin’s rooms again. Her heart beat a little more pronouncedly as she knocked and awaited his answer.
Finally, he opened the door and admitted her. Silently and with bowed head, she walked to where she had stood before, directly in front of his desk.
“What do you know of my recent journey to Paris?” Hardouin asked as he sat down.
“Nothing, sir,” she replied. “except that you went to Paris to recover some treasure that had been lost to you.” There was a pause and then he responded.
“There you are only half correct, madam,” Hardouin said. Allyriane looked up at him at this. No servant is ever addressed as ‘madam.’
“I indeed went to Paris after some manner of treasure. But it was not a treasure of mine. My treasure,” he explained. “was lost to me just last winter. My fiancée, the woman I was bound to marry, contracted a vile illness and died. I had become so despondent after this that I rarely left the house. About a fortnight ago, I received a letter of some urgency from a young friend in the north of France.” Allyriane’s eyes widened.
“Something strikes you?” Hardouin asked, waiting for her to answer.
“My family is from the north of France, sir,” Allyriane replied. “That is all.”
“Precisely what I wanted to hear,” Hardouin said. “The friend I speak of bears the name you claimed earlier today. Charles D’Aubigne.”
“My brother…” Allyriane murmured in surprise.
“I don’t know what happened to make your father do this, but I am going to find out. Until then, I shall arrange a situation for you in one of the upstairs guest rooms,” Hardouin said. “No noblewoman is going to serve tables or polish silver beneath my roof.”
“You are very kind, sir,” Allyriane said, curtseying demurely. Certainly, she never expected this advantageous turn of events.
“The honor is mine, Mademoiselle D’Aubigne. You will certainly want to change and freshen up before dinner is served,” Hardouin observed as he looked her over. “I shall assign a lady maid to help you.”
“May I request a specific one?” Allyriane dared. Hardouin turned and eyed her quizzically.
“Made friends so soon, have you?” he commented.
“Aye, ma mere often told me that I was blessed with an agreeable disposition,” Allyriane replied as she blushed a bit.
“Suit yourself,” Hardouin concluded. “Whom shall I send?”
“Her name is Cerise, sir,” Allyriane replied.
“I shall send for directly,” Hardouin said, nodding before he left her to the butler that escorted her down the hall and to the bedroom that the Master had indicated.
At first, Cerise had been terribly angry and confused. It took a great deal of explaining for Allyriane to convince her that she was indeed a noblewoman.
“I should have known. A proper serving girl would never have dropped all of that silver,” Cerise teased at last.
At dinner, Allyriane thought to inquire more as to Master Hardouin’s communications with her brother.
“He seemed most upset at the loss of you,” Hardouin replied. “He was determined to relocate you as soon as could be.”
“Surely the revolt is not yet complete?” Allyriane asked. “It cannot be safe for those of high rank to reemerge into society yet.”
“On the contrary, I have it on good authority that the Bastille has been stormed, and with it, the end of the revolution looks to be eminent,” Hardouin replied.
“Why would you go all the way to Paris—risk your life—what treasure could be so important to you to…” For the second time in less than a week, Allyriane was speechless.
“You, my lady, were the treasure I ventured to Paris to find. Your brother is a respected and admired young man and my good opinion is rarely given,” Hardouin revealed.
“Kind sir,” Allyriane said after several seconds had gone by. “How may I repay you for such a risk?” Hardouin pondered a moment.
“Join me in the drawing room after the evening meal,” he replied. The rest of the meal was silent.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“I suppose you find it was rather coincidental that you should come to be in the hands of someone so well known to your brother,” Hardouin said when Allyriane joined him as he had requested. He circled her slowly as she stood in the middle of the room, just as he had done before. Allyriane stood and allowed her heart rate to double as she felt his eyes boring into her.
“I had thought that rather strange, sir,” Allyriane replied, still remaining on the spot.
“Do you suppose that there was a reason you were brought here?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, now that you say something about it, I do,” she replied. She shuddered just a little under his scrutinizing gaze.
“You asked me at dinner how you could repay me,” Hardouin said, changing the subject. “There is a way.”
“I will do whatever you wish,” Allyriane hastily agreed. Hardouin could only with difficulty keep the pleased smile from his face.
“You recall the event with the silver this afternoon?” he asked her. She nodded, swallowing hard.
“You may repay me by taking your punishment,” He said, standing directly beside her. She shuddered more violently this time and gasped.
“Oh…with pleasure, sir,” she murmured, losing the attempt to keep the excited sheen of tears from her eyes.
“You would do this,” Hardouin asked. “of your own will? You would invite it?”
“Yes,” whispered Allyriane. Her voice was diminished to this by the combination of excitement and instinctive fright. Hardouin took a chair near the fire and made himself comfortable before beckoning Allyriane to come nearer.
“I will accept your restitution over my knee, with your bottom bared,” Hardouin instructed, opening his arms to guide her over into the correct position. Allyriane whimpered just a bit as he lifted her skirt high above her waist and parted her drawers. There beneath the soft linen fabric laid the smooth, firm, porcelain orbs of her bottom. They were unblemished—untouched by any foreign hand or object. It was now Hardouin’s turn to issue a shudder. He lightly traced his fingertips over her virgin flesh and she quivered beneath his grip, uttering soft gasp and a whimper. Smiling now that she could not see him, he started out slowly, bringing his hand down upon her bottom again and again. He picked up the pace after about a minute, drawing excitement from the way her bottom was beginning to turn pink. It excited him to hear her cry out but still not begging him to stop.
He stopped for a moment to rest his hand and allow her to catch her breath.
He looked at her upturned body, swallowing, he rested his hand on her reddening cheeks, absorbing the heat beginning to radiate from them. He took his time slowly rubbing them for a moment before she looked up at him. She quivered in joy as she supported herself on her hands.
“Is something wrong? Am I through?” she asked timidly.
“Do you wish to be?” he asked softly. She whimpered softly and he dared to press his hand a bit harder. Allyriane considered her options. She was by no means ready to tarnish the family reputation by spending the night with this man tonight, but allowing him to continue was definitely still in the cards.
“I should return to my room,” Allyriane murmured. “We mustn’t seem too hasty.”
Hardouin was slightly disappointed, but allowed her to rise and readjust her clothing and hair.
“As you wish. I will send an express to your brother in the morning. I am certain he is eager to ascertain your safety,” Hardouin replied, striving to compose himself. Allyriane took several steps closer and closed the distance between them.
“I cannot feel I am in any danger when I am here with someone like you,” she whispered. Allyriane took her leave silently. Hardouin gripped the edge of the mantelpiece as soon as she was out of earshot. He couldn’t believe what had just transpired. He had never done such a thing to a woman who actually wanted him to do so. Fascinated, exhilarated and unable to sleep, Hardouin retired to his own rooms and prepared the express to Charles D’Aubigne before surrendering to sleep. His conflicting feelings for his lovely houseguest would have to wait. |
Bethie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Bethie
Post Number: 851
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 04:12 am: |
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 Thank you for posting this, it's wonderful! I hope you'll post the next part soon.
Btw, it wasn't any trouble and you won't get any complaints from us about the length of your stories. 
(Message edited by bethie on May 21, 2006) |
Blistering_blonde
Junior Spanko
Username: Blistering_blonde
Post Number: 65
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 10:45 am: |
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HEHE . yeah like THIS spank hungry group would EVER complain about the length of a GREAT story *S*
LOVE IT ...and waits for the other parts .... ...
*starts tapping fingers *
OHHHHH sure, tease us about the length then make us wait .....
not a nice thing to do to us spankos *S*
in seriousnes though the storys great ..PLEASE keep it coming |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 10
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 11:54 am: |
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 Thank you! I'm speechless! |
Czechchick
New member
Username: Czechchick
Post Number: 9
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Tuesday, June 06, 2006 - 02:11 pm: |
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What a LOVELY story! I hope you will continue it .. although I did not understand every word, you write with such style and I could picture the scenes you drew. I wish that I was Allyriane, I think she will have much fun! |
Paddledom
New member
Username: Paddledom
Post Number: 36
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, June 07, 2006 - 01:14 am: |
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Very nicely written spankedteacher 
A continuation is surely eagerly awaited by all |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 12
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Tuesday, June 13, 2006 - 03:15 pm: |
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Thank you CzechChick and Paddledom!
Guess what everyone? I've decided on a title!
When I post the next chapter, it will be called "A War of the Heart, chapter 2" |
Tammynx
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Tammynx
Post Number: 714
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Tuesday, June 13, 2006 - 03:19 pm: |
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I can't wait to read the rest!! Your a very good writer!!! |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 13
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, June 14, 2006 - 03:05 am: |
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Big Hugs to whichever moderator fixed the title of this thread for me! |
Weasel
New member
Username: Weasel
Post Number: 27
Registered: 06-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, June 14, 2006 - 06:57 pm: |
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Excellent, Spankedteacher, and even to the proper usage of D'A for french nobility and not D'E. (How would a weasel know that?)Great story, can't wait to see the next chapter.
Some day you'll spank me... er thank me for this!
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Double_trouble
New member
Username: Double_trouble
Post Number: 14
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, June 14, 2006 - 09:03 pm: |
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SpankedTeacher--
Great handle! That conjures up images in itself  |
Bethie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Bethie
Post Number: 1169
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Thursday, October 19, 2006 - 12:10 am: |
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 I had to find this so I could refresh my memory before reading the next part. I thought it might help to bring it to the top for anyone else wanting to read it. |
Spankedteacher
New member
Username: Spankedteacher
Post Number: 22
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 20, 2006 - 12:41 am: |
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Thank you, Bethie! That was so sweet! |
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