by John Benson
"Don't you think it's about time?" Lady Janet said. Her red gown rippled as she walked, a gauzy thing which gracefully accented her studied movements. Humanity and artifice in synchrony. Quite pretty, in a daunting sort of way. "I mean," Lady Janet said. "It was on your sixteenth birthday I distinctly told you you were old enough to fall in love, and now it's nearly two years gone. Don't you think it's high time you got on with it?"
"I heard it as permission, Mother," Caroline said. "Not a commandment." Caroline's gown was given to metallic hues and pointy edges, as prickly as Caroline herself. She could be pretty when she smiled, but a little pout was much more common. She only smiled when wreaking mischief.
"But it's so fun, my sweet," coaxed Lady Janet.
"Hmpf," said Caroline. "Men are fun to flirt with. It's fun to get their hopes up and then tell them 'no.' That's the part that's fun. Actually letting them do stuff? I'd have to lose control. You know how much I hate to lose control."
"That's rude," said Lady Janet. Her gestures were abbreviated and abrupt now, and her gown swished angrily. "The boy must always be given reason to hope. Flirting and always saying 'no' is cheating. Considerable reluctance with occasional giving in is what you're wanting. It brings out the very best in them. Their ardor. Great poetry. Feats of daring. Being courted can be so very nice if you'll only do it right. Learn from Helena, why don't you? I think she's got the hang of it."
Caroline stood stock still, all pointy and prickly like a thorn bush. "That slut," she said. Helena was beautiful, while Caroline was only pretty. Helena was voluptuous where Caroline was merely elfin. Yes, Caroline was jealous. "That slut says 'yes' to everybody. She'll trip a man and hit the floor before he does."
"I said don't be rude," snapped Lady Janet. "Would you like to be short-skirted?"
Caroline's head snapped back. She felt doubt, if not exactly fear. The threat was probably not meant in earnest, but if Caroline turned this into a battle of wills, it was a battle she would lose. And if she didn't want to lose control, then being short-skirted would be her nightmare. Total, abject helplessness.
"Your pardon, Mother," said Caroline. "I meant no disrespect to you. Only to Helena."
"Whose only fault is being a bit more friendly," said Lady Janet. She sounded less angry now, more willing to smooth things out. "You really ought to try and be less prickly, dear. Before the boys give up. You just might learn to like it."
Now Caroline must be careful. She hated to give her mother the last word, but anything incendiary might put her in a terrible pickle. But then with unaccustomed clarity she realized it was not nearly so much what she said that would get her into trouble, but how she said it. Bombast, even mere hyperbole, must be restrained.
"I'm wondering if maybe this is really about your desire to become a grandma," said Caroline.
Lady Janet beamed. "A little, dear, I must confess," she said. "But mostly, I just hope you have some fun."
Antigrav trays floated by bearing little sandwiches and flutes of chilled Champagne, and weaved in and out amongst the ladies, being helpful and unobtrusive. The ladies were not unobtrusive at all, bedazzlingly begowned like a pride of peacocks, none more distinctive than the softly feminine Helena or the prickly Caroline.
"Mother wishes I'd start making babies," said Caroline. "Be alright I suppose if I wasn't expected to do it the old way, with a man. I mean, it's such a messy-seeming process, and so damn personal. And men are kind of icky."
The ladies giggled.
"The horizontal dance does seem unnatural unless you make friends first," Helena said. "Once you like each other, well, it just comes naturally. The shyness melts away."
"You'd know," said Caroline, astringent as a sugarless sherry. "You'd do the horizontal bop with anything that moves."
The room grew quiet. Caroline had trespassed on convention, but then it was her household and the little bitch had a temper. Let it be focused on Helena. The rest dared not divert attention.
"You're being mean because you're jealous," said Helena. "But the truth is, men like me because I like them. It'd work for you, too. I know it would."
"How would you like to be short-skirted?" asked Caroline. "Seven days of frequent beatings and disciplinary rape?"
"You wouldn't dare," said Lady Helena.
The ladies gasped.
And Caroline's blood ran cold. Her threat may have only been meant to shock, but having made it, she couldn't let the girl call her bluff. This was the confrontation she had avoided with her own mother. The one where the superior had no choice. The clever automata had anticipated her next action, and the tray which came up to her elbow carried neither food nor drink, but a depolarizer. Caroline took it and moved grimly to her rival and touched it to the clasp of Helena's gown. The poor girl whimpered as her clothing sagged and fell right off her and pooled at her feet. "Seven days," said Caroline. "Seven days the only clothing which will not fall off you is the scoop top and the teeny skirt. Seven days of being whipped and pleasured. See how much you like men when they can do anything they want, little bitch."
"I implore you," poor naked Helena begged. "Don't be so mean."
"Am I over reacting?" Caroline asked nobody in particular. "Tell you what. If one of you other ladies thinks I've gone too far, then please speak up, and we'll punish Helena less harshly, or forgive her altogether."
The ladies shuffled about and there was a bit of throat clearing. There may have been sympathy for Helena, who after all spoke nothing but the truth. But the household thrived on status, and the lower ranking ladies stood to gain if Helena was debased, and the higher ranking ones? Well, they were higher ranking because they knew how to curry favor with young Caroline. And so, for a room all full of girls, the silence was simply stunning.
"Too bad," said Caroline. "I guess you're fucked." Which was a very unladylike thing to say but nobody brought it up. Not even poor Helena.
Caroline dressed simply, no silver, no gilt, no edges. She knew she was in trouble with her mother, and she didn't want to make it worse. The doors slid aside for her, and Mother was standing next to her Seat of State and at her side a little tray hovered, bearing a depolarizer. A threat. It must be just a threat.
"You called for me?" said Caroline. She heard the tremor in her voice.
"You short-skirted Helena," Lady Janet said, "and any fool can see you did it out of jealousy. What do you have to say for yourself?"
A hard defense? A soft one? Beg for mercy? "I was given to understand that I have dominion over my ladies, as you do over yours, Mother."
"You do," Lady Janet said. She picked up the depolarizer and tapped it on her palm. "I will not countermand your authority over Helena. But I do demand you justify yourself. Give me one good reason you should not join her in a week of punishment?"
Oh Lords and Ladies of the Air. "I had no choice," said Caroline. Her voice was little more than a croak. "I threatened her and she called my bluff. You would have had to do the same."
"True," said Lady Janet, "but not the point. Why did you put yourself in that position? Don't you know how dangerous it is to make threats unless you mean them? Now. Why did you feel compelled to threaten Helena?"
There's a point where all defense is futile, and at that point the only thing to do is tell the truth. The truth sometimes shocks Lady Janet into relenting, and anyway, there was nothing else to try. "I was jealous," said Caroline, so very softly.
"What?"
"I did it because I was jealous, Mother. It was a mistake."
Lady Janet nodded. "That's better, dear," she said. "Now Helena is being punished for bad judgment. She really should not have forced your hand. And you?"
There was this sinking feeling, this inevitability. "I used bad judgment, too," said Caroline.
"Yes," Lady Janet said. "You did." She touched the depolarizer to the clasp of Caroline's gown. "So you will join her. Look on the bright side, child. At least you'll be freed from that damned virginity."
The cloth fell off Caroline and she felt vulnerable, and frightened, and ashamed.
The gentlemen all smirked at Caroline, and then leered at Helena. Janet's ladies pretended everything was normal, and Caroline's mostly blushed and giggled. "I don't like you very much right now, Mother," said Caroline. The punishment outfit had a scoop top that left the breasts bare, and the short skirt was so very short that the slightest movement displayed a bit of rounded buttock in the back, or even a hint of pubic thatch up front. As usual, the clothing made Helena look yummy, and Caroline merely cute. And embarrassed. And insecure. It had been a very long time since Caroline had felt very insecure.
Lady Janet clapped her hands and the room quieted quickly. "You all know we have two naughty girls on our hands," she said. "I've been thinking of the best way to deal with them, and decided rather than leave them to the mercy of the local gentlemen, I'd bring in outside help."
The local gentlemen groaned. The women giggled.
"Helena especially might get off too easy," said Lady Janet. "And we all know there's supposed to be a lot of smacking, not just tupping. And whilst I'm pretty sure there's no lack of folks willing to smack our Caroline a good one, I'd rather it be done by someone whom she hasn't irritated the Hell out of for the last few years, or the poor thing won't have any hide left at all. So anyway, here are my outside champions, let's all please welcome Sir Charles and Lord Boris."
There was a smattering of applause. The two men entered, two healthy young men, well dressed, self confident. Caroline was not a tall woman, but now she felt really small, and afraid and on display. The younger, taller man must be Charles, since the shorter, older one wore the insignia of rank. "Thank you for thinking of us," Lord Boris said. "When you called, we came immediately."
"Let me introduce the victims," said Lady Janet. "Here is the Lady Helena Esterhazy, and beside her, my young relative the Lady Caroline Dominici. Which will you chose?"
Relative, not daughter. Caroline wondered how long that would last. This place had gossip as its favorite pastime.
"I'd like the sexy one," Sir Charles said. The gentlemen laughed softly.
Caroline managed to seethe with jealousy at that, even if being chosen was not something to be looked forward to. To be whipped. To be taken against her will. She found herself shaking.
"I'd like to hear their crimes," Lord Boris said. "Particularly, has either one of these creatures been a brat? I specialize in taming brats. Some would say it's my hobby. It is my passion."
Caroline shuddered. Lady Janet smiled. "They both made the mistake of annoying the wrong person," Lady Janet said, "but Helena annoyed by being too free with the truth. Caroline annoyed by being a brat. In matter of fact, she's been a brat for years."
Caroline squeaked in impotent annoyance.
Lord Boris grinned. "Then Sir Charles shall have his wish, for I chose Caroline."
There was a smattering of applause. The Lady Helena walked over to her new master and looked up at him with cute little puppy dog eyes. Caroline felt herself rooted to the spot.
The formal dinner just made it worse. I mean, here she was with her tits hanging out, and the punish skirt hiked way up when poor Caroline sat down so it wasn't hiding almost anything, and across from her sat that slut Helena, flirting and letting herself be fondled and trying to drive her guy so crazy he wouldn't remember how to spank. It infuriated Caroline no end, and when she was angry, she wasn't at her best. She turned to her new nemesis who sat beside her.
"Tell me, My Lord," she said mock-sweetly. "Do you just go from place to place and prey upon whatever ladies are being short-skirted at the moment?" She really shouldn't have said it. But a lifetime habit of annoying gentlemen was rather hard to break.
Lord Boris pulled apart his dinner roll. He cocked his head. At least he didn't seem too angry. "Actually, you're the first whose been short-skirted," he said. "Usually, I just find bright feisty women who are acting badly and tell them they deserve to be punished and used for sex. That gets my face slapped from time to time, yes. But it often winds up with the girl agreeing with me, in which case I give her exactly what she deserves."
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