Chapter 3  New Order

I was raised country gentry.  My family has supplied officers for the regiments that fought everywhere that the Union Jack flew, and every where the white ensign sailed.  The women of my family were officers wives, country squires wives, clergy wives, and much sought after by the rising class of bureaucrats as women who brought a strong and steady hand to houses of families on the rise, able to raise both a family and that families standing without engaging in unnecessary social drama, expensive chasing after fashion or position.  We were the definition of steady and dependable.  The other selling point may have been more fertile than the soil of the fenlands, with, as my brother in law, Vice Admiral Sir Cuthbert Collingwood likes to say "transoms to make your mainsails rise, and bow guns to sink a man-o-war".   While she didn't find that the most flattering way to describe her families tendency toward round and full bottoms and heavy up thrust bosom, it was not inaccurate.

Now I am the wife of a city earl, a steel mill owner, railroad man, mercantile shipper, and political power broker.  Charles is very much a new man, a man of the Industrial Revolution, of the foreign trade and domestic commerce, and I am the simple country wife whose dignity and ancient name keeps the stench of "trade" from sticking to him, in noble circles still pretending that farm land not factories were the source of wealth.  I am good at providing the sort of genteel counterpoint to my husbands hard driving, frequently abrasive, presence at meetings of the business and social elite, and as a hostess, my quiet and down to earth character balances the Oriental, African, and Carib splendor of the décor of his townhouse.  The house and I are both displays, the house displays his wealth and his connections to foreign trade, I display his English noble heritage and commitment to the old ways of the Empire.  Oddly, the first it true, the second is an open farce.  My husband respects power in the reality, not the delusion.  His focus is on tomorrow's wealth and power, not yesterdays prominence.

I was at a loss with his old staff.  They didn't care for a young interloper from a country gentry house telling them what to do.  They were leftovers from another century, and not capable of being part of my husbands political entertaining going forward.  He had brought in a whole new young and attractive staff from his foreign holdings.  Indian, Chinese, African (by way of his Caribbean plantation holdings).  The head maid, Kira, was his greatest gift to me.  She managed to keep discipline in the house where my own more quiet methods were unsuited to large staffs and constant changes.

I am tormented now because of that discipline.  Kira rules the house staff with an iron hand.  Or hairbrush.  Or riding crop.  Or cane.  She disciplines the female staff by stripping them naked and mixing corporal punishment and forced orgasm to both punish their infraction and reenforce her authority.  No matter how sternly, how savagely, how thoroughly she punishes the staff, they crawl to her naked afterwards to kiss her feet and beg to be allowed to pleasure her with their mouths.  I was frozen in disbelief the first time I saw it, overcome with feelings I could not explain.

Now I can explain them.  Desire.  I was overcome with desire to see Kira put the staff in their place.  To punish them, to break them, to train them to worship and obey her.

Each session I would witness, then rush to my room, where Kira would direct whichever maid to strip me, and then Kira would command me in the specifics of pleasuring myself.  I could not help myself.  I was so aroused watching her take the submission of the staff, that like the staff, I had to touch myself to deal with my desire for Miss Kira.  Even now, in the silence of my mind, I find myself addressing her as Miss Kira.  Like the staff addresses her.  Here I am, Lady Annabelle, wife of the Earl, one of the richest women in the whole of the empire, and I am unable to meet the gaze of my head maid without blushing.

I suppose another woman would be beside herself in romantic frenzy, but I am country gentry.  We can always put off thinking about things with work, and with my husbands constant entertaining and the details of running both his estates and many businesses there is always work to be done.  On a professional level, the house runs better than any this side of Buckingham palace, and with a lot leaner staff and a lot less graft.  Whatever has grown between Miss Kira and I, it has not affected the running of the house or estates.   I suppose that is part of the problem with being country gentry, we are the noble version of farm wives, too concerned with the day to day work of the household to become overcome with flights of fancy, even when our mind, heart, and traitorous body cannot stop yearning for the eyes, the words, and dare I hope, the touch of she whose smile ignites my soul.

It seemed every two or three days there would be a new punishment.  There wouldn't even be a pretext of an actual offense now.  It was openly being done so that the staff could gather to watch Miss Kira discipline one of their number, and so they could watch their dear Miss Annabelle get worked into a frenzy and dragged off to her room to deal with her hysteria by touching herself like some French doxie in one of those port side tavern brothel stage shows.  How they could respect me at this point I don't know.  I hardly respect myself.  I would love to hate myself, would love to confess my sins and repent, but I can't repent Kira.

I have given my husband two sons, but my body has never felt alive, never felt anything like the fire Miss Kira ignites in me.  I may burn in hell for touching myself at her orders, but I would rather burn with her in hell than be parted in heaven.

That said, we had a major entertainment to put on.  My husband was away in Yorkshire with the Duke of Buckingham's fox hunt, while I was left to host a charity ball for the Royal Navy Benevolent Society.  On the one hand it was a "non political" charitable event that was fit to be hosted by a noble lady, on the other hand it was very much key to securing support from the serving commons who were very much often left poorer for reduced naval spending in peace time, and by injury in war time.  On the other hand, it very much played an important role in pushing, quietly, the drive for naval expansion, itself very important in both steel production and foreign trade.  With my husband away, my hosting it let him reap the political benefits without looking like he was pandering for them.  That was Charles for you.  His vacations had at least four agendas.

I was more aware now of the bodies under the maid uniforms of my staff.  The dark skin from the gold of the orient, the café-au-lait of the moor, to the rich black of the central African.  Over all of them, the lithe dancer's body of Kira, crowned like a Caribbean Queen in tight cornrows, her face a more classically noble one than my own, in every way except accident of birth, the nobler of us.  I knew how they looked naked, I knew the movements of their bodies under the lash, and their movements in passion.  I knew the sounds of their pleasure, and lord god forgive me, the taste of them; for after every session they would offer their fingers from their own sex into my mouth, and after they had pleasured Miss Kira with their mouths in thanks for their punishment, they would offer me her taste on their tongues.

I really had no idea what to do.  I had lost control of my life.  I was like a ship at see without a rudder.  I was supposed to be in charge, but now I had no idea what I should do.  I had always been driven by the needs of the house, my father's house or my husband's.  Now, at the mercy of my own needs, I had no idea what to do.

The party was quite the success.  There were officers here from the Navy in all their dash and splendor.  The nobles in their pretend uniforms from their own house guards in which they held honourary rank strutted about, rubbing shoulders with the actual naval officers and marine officers who did the fighting, and hoped some of their manhood would rub off.  The merchant houses that very much needed the protection of the Royal Navy for their trade, and the great merchant houses that would very much like to have a voice in how the Royal Navy interpreted its mission in places far from England and close to their own economic interests.  There were the noble ladies enjoying being seen in their finery, being willing to toss away huge amounts of wealth to a good cause of our naval officers and ratings ashore on half pay or injury, and the gentlemen of business who were more than happy to offer to charity if it got them in the same room with the noble men who otherwise would never be seen socially with them.

Like all such parties, there were those who mistook the power from their own house as power in someone else's.  It was a truth to noble society that polite society ran on courtesy, but was lubricated by violence.  In times of social change, newcomers to high society sometimes believed themselves above the rules, just as those whose power had waned sometimes forgot they could no longer do as they pleased.  It was the former that threatened to ruin my ball.

I witnessed Sir Percival Clemens, a thin framed, thin lipped cruel scarecrow of a man, who served as a high official of the John's East India Company drag off Jenna, who had been pressed into serving duty due to the high number of guests we were dealing with.  Excusing myself from the conversation with Lady Judith and her daughter Esmerelda about the latest fashion in silk undergarments, I followed Sir Percival into the hallway that he had dragged Jenna.  Upon reaching the hallway, I could see neither Jenna nor Sir Percival.

I grabbed one of the kitchen girls who was passing and ordered her to fetch two of my footmen.  It was the custom of my father's house to employ former soldiers from his regiment in such positions.  It was a well paid sinecure for the soldiers, and provided a loyal staff beyond what you could usually get from new hires, as well as a level of discretion for delicate matters.  I feared I was about to have such a matter.

Stalking down the hall, I failed to see Jenna or Sir Percival, but I heard a thump coming from my husband's smoking room.  This was a room that was only open to my husband and whomever he was entertaining for after meal drinks and cigars.  Even I did not have leave to enter that room.  There is no reason for their to be anyone in it now.

The door was locked.  The key had been removed from outside the door, and presumably moved to the inside to lock it.  I frowned.  No one in my house would do this.  That was the master's room.  Charles, the only one with the right to lock that door was in Buckingham hunting foxes.  I heard a pained cry, and what might be a slap coming from inside the door.  The door was thick, and the carpets inside were thick.  If I could hear such things out here, there was indeed something happening inside.

The kitchen girl, Ming, had arrived with Mathews and Stiles, two burly footmen, formerly of my father's regiment.

I pointed to the door. "Break it, now."

Mathews pointed to the door, and Stiles smiled happily, and put a rather large boot to the lock.  Inside was a scene out of my fears.  Sir Percival had Jenna bent over one of my husband's overstuffed chairs.  She was bleeding from the nose and mouth, crying, and he was attempting to hike up her skirt from the back, with his own pants open, and his member already rampant and sticking out.

Turning to face me, Sir Percival's thin face went from fright to a sneer when he noted he was faced only with me, and not my husband.  He sneered.

"Nothing to concern yourself with milady, I am just availing myself of the refreshments.  You know what they say, the browner the berry the sweeter the juice; give me a brown one for my personal use."  Sir Percival laughed cruelly, as if his words somehow excused his actions with my staff in my house.

"Unhand my servant and remove yourself from my house."  I said coldly, my fury warring with my breeding to keep me from flying into a rage at his flagrant abuse of Jenna.

"Do you know who I am?  At my word more ships move than the whole of the sodding Royal Navy.  I have foreign kings hauled down and thrashed in their own throne rooms.  You can put on what airs you like among the toffs, but you and I both know the truth.  She is nothing but property, and if I damage her, the most your husband will ask is less than I wager on any turn of the cards when we play at our club."  He laughed again.  I looked into Jenna's face and saw that she accepted this as truth.  I looked at Sir Percival, and knew he accepted it as truth.  My husband also probably accepted it as truth.

I had been like a ship without a rudder at sea since being caught up in how Kira keeps order in my house, but it is my house.

"Mathews, Stiles.  The gentleman has become quite drunk.  Rather than expose him to ridicule from being too drunk to stand, conduct his unconscious body to his carriage and send him on his way."    I said utterly coldly.

"You wouldn't dare!"  Sir Percival shouted.

"Mathews, Stiles, he seems very drunk.  Drunk enough that he may fall several times on the way to his carriage.  See the head maid for a few pounds to settle your stomach after hauling him out.  I fear your clothes may get at little bloody taking him to his carriage."  I said, equally coldly.

As they brushed past me, chuckling, Mathews gave an offhand salute, and they fell to with a will.

I watched as Mathews and Stiles administered a very professional beating.  As they dragged him past me, I stopped them for a moment to look down at him.

"Why would you do this?  She was just a coolie.  Your husband will...."  He tried to say, and I silenced him with a slap.

"My husband married me to keep his house in the traditional way.  We are not money grubbing merchants, we are simple people.  Our retainers serve the house, but they are part of it.  They are family.  If you think my husband will do anything for beating some merchant for attempting to soil the honour of his house then you know nothing."  I said, again quietly.

Stiles and Mathews moved him out the door, where mysteriously he fell face down, and had to be yanked up again.

"Ruddy East India men can't hold their liquor.  Fell right down he did.  The lady was right, this one might fall a few more times on the way out."  Mathews offered sagely.

Styles punched Sir Percival in the short ribs to silence his objections, then mused thoughtfully.  "The Madam was quite considerate, having us escort the gentleman to his carriage, drunk as he is.  He might not make it otherwise."

I met the eyes of Kira as my retainers led Sir Percival out.  I touched her sleeve and whispered to her.  "See to Jenna.  If a doctor is needed, have him summoned."

No matter what I wanted to do, I was lady of the house, and there was a charity event to host.  Plastered on a smile and returned to the party.  My staff looked at me with eyes that seemed shocked.  For myself, I felt I had found my rudder.  Whatever else may be true, this was my house, and those in it had my protection.

The party was a rousing success.  Rumours of Sir Percival's fate made their way among the carriage men, and then among the staff.  The naval and marine officers heard about it from their ratings before the party was over, and roared in laughter, making a point to all call upon me and offer their thanks for hosting the event, for the hospitality and good order of my house.  There is little love between the Royal Navy and the East India company.  The nobles seemed to think it a wonderful joke upon the new money men, and after all, one can't hold a woman responsible for an emotional response.  The new money men had felt the lash of the East India company throwing its weight around to their cost far too often for them not to find it even funnier than the navy or nobility, and oddly, found it gave a little substance to the nobility seen as less and less relevant in todays society.

My husband did not pay for drinks at his club, for everyone had to buy him a brandy and regale him with their version of the event, so he found it quite endearing.

We danced around each other for a week.  My eyes followed Kira's, her eyes followed me.  The staff stopped and looked at me when I walked the halls like they were afraid to breathe.  I knew someone had to break the impasse.  Someone had to make a decision.  Everyone knew what I desired, but this was my house.  It had to be my call.

In the end, I made it.

I told Jenna when she returned to work.  "Jenna, can you let Miss Kira know that I require her to administer discipline in the lobby before lunch.  Have the staff assembled."  I told her, glancing at her with a small smile as her eyes grew wide.

I found Miss Kira standing before the table I had witnessed her administering so much discipline to my staff.  I had watched that Caribbean Queen break every one of the women to her will with a combination of both pleasure and pain, teaching them their place in this house.  I had asked her to keep order, then my own sexual desires had threatened that order.  I had to end it.  I had to restore order.

"Miss Annabelle."  Kira greeted me, gesturing to the staff for them to curtsey, then curtseying herself.

I inclined my head to her, regally.  "Miss Kira.  I had you assemble the staff here for a matter of discipline.  For a matter of house order.  This is my house, and while I had tasked you to keep order in it, I fear I had allowed my own needs to insert confusion into that order, to the detriment of my house.  This ends today.  I have summoned you here on a matter of discipline Miss Kira."  I said, and not one of the staff dared to breathe, afraid of what I was going to say next.

"Who requires discipline, Miss Annabelle?"  Kira asked, the only woman present who was smiling and not shaking in fear.

I smiled.  My heart at last free of confusion.  "Me."  I said, as I lowered myself to my knees, and then belly as I kissed her black boots.

Miss Kira reached down, and pulled my back by my hair.  Her black fist in my red hair, she pulled me back until I was on my knees.  Leaning down, she kissed me.

"This is your house."  She said.

"And you keep the order of it."  I confirmed.

She slapped me across the face.  "Slut Annabelle, sluts who beg correction, do so naked."

Turning to my staff, to her staff, she ordered them.  "Strip her."

I was in a daze as my maids and cooks descended on me, stripping me bare.  My pale white flesh finally exposed entirely to their gaze, to their hands.  I let my long red hair be unbound and knelt naked on the carpet of my own lobby, kissing the boots of my head maid.  She had me standing, facing her, my hands gripped to the back of my hair as she held me by the neck, as she got the staff to punish me.

Hands spanked my ass, and hairbrushes. Miss Kira looked me right in the eyes and spanked my heavy breasts as my bottom was spanked.  She never broke eye contact, looking at me as my staff slapped and spanked my ass, until they too began to spank my breasts.  Soon I was being made to say thank you as I was spanked by maids and cooks, all the while keeping eye contact with Miss Kira.

Finally she pulled me by the neck to her, and she slid her fingers down into my sex, as her tongue plundered my mouth.  I broke discipline and took my hands off the back of my head to grab Miss Kira's face and kiss her back.  She kept kissing me as her fingers went inside me.  Fingering me, fucking me with her fingers better than Charles had in all our married life with his cock.  I came on her fingers, and felt the strength go out of my legs.  I fell on my knees between her legs and she raised her skirt slowly to expose her dark curly triangle of her sex, the dark lily of delight.

"Be a good slut, Annabelle, and eat my pussy.  Show me how much you need to please me."  Miss Kira smiled as she looked down on me.  I shuffled between her feet, and smelled what I had smelled on the lips of the staff that had kissed me after eating her.  I buried my face in her sex, and no matter how I intended my first kiss of her flower to be delicate and loving, I fell upon her like a glutton on dessert.  I buried my face in her, lapping and sucking.

Kira laughed.  "What a slut.  If we had women sailors you would be the greatest money maker from London to Southampton.  You could do shows like the French put on in their Pigalle and Marseilles whorehouses.  Oh fuck, yes, you don't need to breathe, just get your tongue deeper in me."  Kira shouted as she pulled my face deep into her, and I found myself whimpering like a begging puppy as I strove with my unskilled tongue to do what I had seen the others to please her.  She began to ride my face, until at last I saw the swelling but of her button swelling from the crown of her lily like the sweetest of fruit.  I had to taste it.  I took her black pearl into my mouth and began to suck it.  As her breath began to turn to panting, as her lean muscled belly began to contort, I sucked her nubbin harder and flicked my tongue across it.  Grabbing my head, Miss Kira screamed and at last I tasted flooding into my mouth what I had only known second hand from the mouths of the other staff that pleased her.

Kira pulled my by my hair up to my feet and kissed me.  Tasting her own pussy on my lips, she cupped my breasts with one hand, and my ass in the other as she made love to my mouth.  I went away, lost in bliss as she kissed me.  Finally, pulling back she looked me in the eyes, hers so soft dark and enchanting, and spoke softly.

"You really do care for us, and we for you.  I know what you need, will you trust me to see that you get it?"  Kira asked me.

"Yes Miss Kira."  I answered.

She pulled my head back, and sucked a hickey into my neck before pulling back to slap my face lightly again.

"Slut Annabelle, that was barely proficient.  I expect better.  You will be trained to please me every day.  I will  have you pleasing every maid, every cook, every char-woman until you are the best in this house.  You are the one that sets the standard for this house, you must be the best, do you understand slut Annabelle?"  Miss Kira asked. I was crying when I answered.

"Yes ma'am."

"When you are Miss Annabelle, you are the Lady of the House and your word is law.  When you are slut Annabelle, you exist only to please me, and those of the staff who have performed well enough to be allowed the use of my personal property.  Do you understand?"

"Yes Miss Kira."  I answered happily.

Miss Kira put me on my knees, and Jenna hopped up on the table, spreading her legs to show me a far darker flower than Miss Kira's but one already glistening with honey.  I was going to be a busy bee.  All around me I heard the happy laughter of my servants.  Miss Kira was restoring order in the house, and we were all better for it.  Jenna had suffered at the party I threw.  It was important that I show her how much I valued her service.  It was the least I could do.