by LSF Publications
by DJ Black
"Okay, let me see if I have got this right," Laura Carmichael said after a very deep breath, "My uncle, Dean Latimer, my late uncle... I mean he is dead and this isn't some joke?"
Laura frowned and paused to gather her thoughts again before continuing, as the lawyer leaned forward, linked his hands in front of him, signalling his almost infinite patience.
"Uncle Dean has left all his money to his two daughters, my cousins Emma and Lucy, but they don't get a penny until they are at least 30 years old? And I... I have control of his estate until then. Is that about the size of it?"
Laura barely knew her uncle, but his two daughters had been a thorn in her side ever since they had been put in the custody of their mother, a stupid feckless woman who had drunk herself to death, but not before spoiling them rotten.
"There is generous compensation in this for you," the lawyer explained, as if suddenly afraid she might refuse. "As well as enjoyment of Latimer Hall, you will receive £100,000 a year and one million pounds once your duties are discharged."
"But in effect I will be their legal guardian," Laura gaped.
At 28, she was only two years older than Emma and barely five years older than Lucy; there was no way they would mind her. Looking up, she glanced at the mirror on the opposite wall that framed the scene of the dour pin-striped lawyer and a petite woman with thick dark bobbed hair. The dark brown eyes staring back were wide with shock.
"Well that is a matter of interpretation," the lawyer continued. "I mean in essence you will only have to sign paperwork every month and help me make an annual assessment of their suitability to inherit."
"We are talking about the wild child of the west and her dippy little sister here. Believe me I know. The summers I spent with them..." Laura broke off and looked skyward in horror.
"Ah yes," the lawyer said as if this was old news to him, which it was. "That is rather why your uncle left the matter in your hands."
"But they are... 'It girls' and socialites these days, I am a... librarian," Laura said with an exasperated sigh and went to the window.
It was raining and the grey light under a heavy cloud was heavy with change. There was no way she could refuse. She had been made redundant the week before.
"I rather think their wild days are about to be curtailed," the lawyer said with a cough. "I mean the will clearly states..."
"Yes I see," Laura said wearily.
"Look. There is adequate provision for... expenses and I know a man who might help..." the lawyer said carefully as if he had just thought of it. "His name is Charles Hemswell."
"Is this actually legal?" Laura asked, unable to hide her astonishment as she studied the man standing at the mantelpiece with a cognac in his hand.
Charles Hemswell had turned out to be a man of indeterminate age with tight grizzled curls and eyes that Laura couldn't quite meet. Back in the day, he had been the head of an old-fashioned private school, but a change in teaching philosophy had led to his early retirement. He studied her now, giving her the impression that she had said something completely stupid.
"It is not illegal," Charles said smoothly. "My programme relies on consent and under the circumstances I think I can get it."
"Yes but..." Laura felt foolish again. There had been some daunting wording in the small print of the contract that she wished to clarify. "What if this doesn't work out?"
"It always works out, even if my... clients don't always see it that way at first. Hence the £20,000 premature cancellation fee," Charles said, taking another sip of cognac.
"But these methods of yours... how will... I mean what if...?"
"If you agree, then that will be my problem," Charles said with a casual shrug.
"But... you really mean to spank them if..." Laura was suddenly thrilled at the idea. "And other measures, what are they?"
"Spank, cane, whatever it takes," Charles shrugged. "As for other measures, well some young women think it is rather amusing to be spanked; they don't always take it too seriously at first. Sometimes they need to be taken down a peg or two."
"Yes," Laura whispered. She was almost envious.
Laura did not know how Emma and Lucy would take it and picked a seat as far away from the centre of the room as she could. The old leather chair had been her uncle's favourite she seemed to recall, and now that she was the lady of the house it seemed appropriate somehow.
Emma had entered the room as poised as ever, tossing her long blonde hair dismissively when she saw Laura sitting there, and then took a place opposite on the sofa. She eyed Charles Hemswell suspiciously, but there was nonetheless something seductive in the outwardly demure way she took her seat.
Lucy on the other hand breezed in and threw herself down at the opposite end of the settee like a careless teenager.
"Hi Laur," she threw out at Laura, tugging the dark blonde ponytail and chewing on the end. "You gonna be holding the purse strings. Cool."
Emma rolled her eyes up at the last remark. Sometimes her sister could be so stupid.
"Who's this?" Lucy said rudely, casting a lazy look at Charles.
"He's a kind of... a guidance counsellor and mentor. He..."
"I will be taking care of household discipline and suggesting better ways to deport yourselves," Charles cut in.
Lucy giggled at this and Emma tilted her head to one side to take a fresh appraisal at the rather serious-looking man. Her expression seemed to say, 'Are you for real?'
Then Charles outlined the exact details of his programme to the, at first incredulous and then openly amused, sisters.
"You have got to be fucking joking," Lucy giggled.
"That is an example of the behaviour that will no longer be tolerated," Charles said sharply.
"Ooh, what you going to do, spank her?" Emma said scornfully.
Lucy put a finger to her lips and offered Charles a mock pout.
"Yes," Charles said firmly as he crossed the room.
Then Laura and Emma watched open-mouthed as Charles upended Lucy over his knee and struck her sharply on the seat of her short kilt.
Laura noted the way in which Lucy's ample bottom filled out the tartan pleats of the skirt as it stuck up over Charles's lap and she blushed. However, her red face was nothing compared to Lucy's whose eyes were wide in astonishment, especially when her skirt was flipped up to reveal her impossibly small knickers and the spill of her slightly pinkened bottom cheeks.
"Please, Mr Hemswell... ooch," she squealed, but Charles took no notice and set about spanking Lucy soundly until she squirmed and gasped across his knee.
The spanking lasted a good ten minutes until Lucy was panting hard and her bottom was a startling red. Even Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she gazed at her sister's bottom, encased in underwear that had ridden up Lucy's cleft to become little more than a thong.
"Now go to your room," Charles growled.
"Yes Sir," Lucy lisped.
The 23-year-old blonde suddenly looked even younger and, with a pout and a wipe of her eyes, scurried from the room as she rubbed at her bottom.
"I trust you don't need the same?" Charles said, looking at Emma.
Emma sucked in her cheeks and blinked. Laura couldn't help smirking at the hint of apprehension she saw there.
Things settled down after that, although Laura felt that she was no longer running things. After the first week, Charles Hemswell moved in and, as it seemed the most suitable, he requested and was given the master bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Uncle Dean.
At mealtimes, Laura noticed that Charles occupied the head of the table and whenever she was late he had a habit of giving her a disapproving look that unsettled her. Also, at every opportunity he made suggestions about changes to the running of the house and the three women's personal lives. Although Laura knew he was only being helpful in her case, she had wanted to set an example, so reluctantly, at first, fell in with his ideas. Furthermore, any doubts that Laura had about his disciplinary methods were soon dispelled.
Three days after he moved in a commotion downstairs brought Laura onto the landing to see Emma with her shoes in hand being confronted by Charles. She had evidently been out for the evening and had been trying to sneak back in two hours after the time that had been set for her.
"Miss Latimer," Charles said as he stood glaring at her with the air of a schoolmaster, "I will see you in the library before you creep upstairs."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Emma said in a somewhat surly manner.
Then trying to retain a cool dignity, she breezed past Charles and into the library.
By the time Laura came down, she was surprised to see a rather sheepish Emma bending over the desk with her little black dress rolled up to her hips and her matching black thong dangling at her ankles.
"Look, she doesn't have to be here," Emma complained.
"Oh I think a little humility will serve you well," Charles said dryly.
It was then that Laura noticed he held a cane.
"Oh my gosh," Laura gasped clapping her hand to her mouth at the sight of Emma's neat round high-set bottom bared to the ex-headmaster.
"I found Emma's underwear somewhat inadequate," Charles remarked, "So from now on she can forfeit it when such unpleasantaries are called for."
"Eh yes... quite," Laura spluttered, flushing.
The cane sliced the air in a blur, cutting a sharp white line across Emma's pale bottom like a slash mark in the snow.
"Jeez," Emma yelped, half rising.
"I believe you remember what happened last time," Charles said sternly.
Last time? Laura realised. Then this is not the first. No wonder she is so compliant. When, I wonder?
"Yes," Emma spat, still a little surly. Then seeing Charles's warning look, hastily added, "Yes, Sir."
Emma rocked her bottom as she settled back onto her elbows with her stark bare bottom thrust upwards. The line of white on white was by now flooded with red and was rapidly welting.
The next stroke took her below the first and she dipped at the knees for a moment before straightening. Laura licked her lips at the posture and the sharp hiss through Emma's nose.
"Please Sir, how... how many?" Emma had trouble getting out the words.
"It would have been only six last time, if not for your rebellion. This time, as promised, it will be eight. Unless...?"
"Unless I'm a bad girl," Emma supplied bitterly.
"You are learning," Charles said as he laid on a third stroke under the two vivid lines marking her bottom.
Laura hugged herself as Emma took five more and then watched as her cousin extended her arm for a handshake and with tear-brimmed eyes said almost humbly, "Thank you, Sir."
Laura noticed that Emma made no attempt to repair her dress and instead held the hem of her eveningwear up off her hips to expose her bare bottom.
"May I get dressed, Sir?" Emma asked, thoroughly mortified, her face strawberry red framed by her cream-coloured hair.
"You may," Charles said, putting down the cane. "Good night, Emma."
"Good night, Sir," Emma said meekly.
A week later, the sound of a vigorous spanking brought Laura out of her room to find Emma standing in just her pyjama tops facing the wall beside her own door.
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