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In my twenty-ninth year, my grandfather and I received an invitation to attend a 'spanking weekend' at Cropton Manor, the home of Lord and Lady Newburn, near the village of Chapsom Parva in Kent. My grandfather was by that time too frail to travel, but insisted I attend nevertheless.
'The century is almost ended, Jamie,' he said, 'and my generation of spankers along with it. Time to hand over the reins to younger folk. This Lord Newburn is a fine fellow, by all accounts, and he's on good terms with some very influential people. You must go and make his acquaintance.'
Advice from my grandfather was not to be squandered, for the man was a god to me. It was he who'd raised me, my mother having died bringing me into this world and my father just a few short years after. A spanker his whole life long, my grandfather had trained me thoroughly in the noble art, as his maids could testify. It was a rare night indeed when one of them at least didn't cast off the bedclothes to cool her hot, sore bottom.
On the morning in question, shortly after dawn, I set off for Chapsom Parva. As she so often does, however, Fate had a say in the matter, for my horse threw a shoe on the way and I arrived several hours late. As I rode up the drive I heard a rustling noise off to my right and caught a glimpse of something pale flitting through the dense shrubbery.
I reined in, but all was quiet and the pale object failed to reappear. I was about to move on when I heard a faint whimper. Intrigued, I dismounted and pushed into the thick undergrowth to investigate. To my astonishment I found a young woman hiding behind a bush, entirely naked but for a red mask over her eyes. She looked fragile and vulnerable, crouching there in the thicket, shivering like some hunted animal. When she saw me staring she rose slowly to her feet.
She was slender and not too tall, no more than eighteen years of age, I guessed, with auburn hair arranged in a practical yet pleasing fashion. Her breasts were small, tipped with pale nipples, and a neat clump of silky hair showed between her legs. I half expected her to bolt, or at least cover herself with her arms, but she did neither: she simply stood her ground and looked me up and down. Then, quite unexpectedly, she ran forward and flung herself against my chest, hugging me tightly. As you might imagine I was considerably surprised at this, even alarmed.
'Help me, sir, I beg!' she whispered. 'There are men at the house who would beat me and do lewd things to me!'
I had no idea how to respond to this startling request. She was clearly a maid who'd somehow escaped the spanking party, though why she should be masked eluded me; I could only think it was part of a game Lord Newburn had devised for the amusement of his guests.
Holding her, I discovered she was thoroughly chilled, for though it was near midsummer the afternoon breeze was decidedly cool. I took off my cloak and put it around her shoulders, rubbing her back and shoulders through the thick wool to warm her.
'Will you rescue me, kind sir?' she begged plaintively. 'They're cruel, wicked men, and the master of the house is the worst of all. Should I fall into his clutches he'll thrash me without mercy for trying to escape.'
I was facing a considerable dilemma at this point, for the idea of stealing away one of Lord Newburn's maids was quite preposterous; though by now I was beginning to doubt she was a maid, as she was too well-spoken. A governess to his children seemed more likely, though she was surely rather young for such a position. Whatever the truth of it the problem remained; I couldn't steal her away, but neither could I simply abandon her.
