A butler of a noble house is a curious and complex role. On the one hand, you must be the first to anticipate the needs of your employer (whose name I have omitted here for the sake of decency) but also learn to pivot on a moment’s notice if those needs should change. Whereas a laundry maid may expect on most days to have a certain number of linens to wash, a butler can be taken on unawares by the arrival of an unexpected guest or the sudden desire for his employer to take a stroll in the spring air or a journey into London.
And then there is the matter of the staff. A butler is the captain of his platoon of household servants. If there is disagreement among two staff members, it is the butler’s job to find an amicable resolution. If there is a sudden departure, it is the butler’s job to find a suitable replacement. And when there is a staff member who isn’t performing up to the expectations of their station, it is the butler’s job to make sure that their performance improves.
That is how I found myself this afternoon alone in my quarters with Miss Grimes, a housemaid who has been under our employ for well over two years. Now usually it is the housekeeper’s job to handle discipline among the female staff. But owing to Miss Benning’s unfortunate illness that had laid her up for several weeks, the responsibility for Miss Grimes’s correction fell to me.
The problem with Miss Grimes started several days ago, when another of the housemaids informed me that Miss Grimes had not dusted the fixtures in either the drawing room or the dining room, as was her usual assignment. Believing this to be a misunderstanding, I simply located her later in the day and asked her to be more attentive, which she readily assured me she would do. But then yesterday, I noticed that certain smudges on the window glass where one of the children had put his hands the previous week were still there. Was this not also Miss Grimes’s assignment? She reluctantly told me that it was, and I got rather stern with her. Just because Miss Benning was unable to inspect their work, didn’t mean it was to go unperformed, I told her.
But the final straw was this afternoon, when I noticed that one of the little dogs my employer’s wife keeps in the house (much to our annoyance, I assure you) had had an accident on the entryway carpet. I asked Miss Grimes to wash it out as soon as possible before our employer walked through the room. However, almost three hours later I was informed by my employer that the mess had not been cleaned up and had rather soaked into the carpet, perhaps leaving a permanent stain.
I left him, embarrassed to say the least, and proceeded immediately to the servants’ quarters where I found Miss Grimes sitting in a chair with a book on her lap.
“Miss Grimes, do you remember what I asked you to do earlier this afternoon?”
She looked up at me, her big, brown eyes betraying her startle, apparently not having heard my entrance. Then I saw it dawn on her.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I completely forgot,” she stood and adjusted her skirts. “I’m just so close to the end of this book you see, it keeps distracting me. I will see to it right away. It won’t happen again.”
“I assure you it won’t,” I said, barely containing my anger. “If you want to keep your employment at this house, you will scrub that spot immediately and meet me in my quarters as soon as you have done so.”
“In your quarters, sir?”
“Yes Miss Grimes,” I said. “I’m afraid your performance as of late has been quite inadequate. And consequences are due. You will be getting the birch Miss Grimes.”
I could see the surprise cross her face. “But Miss Benning—”
“Miss Benning is ill and I advise you not to disturb her. After you are finished cleaning you will get the birch from the broom closet and bring it to me in my quarters is that clear?”
“Yes sir,” she said, casting her gaze at the ground.
“Good now off you go.”
***
It was a little over a half hour later when I heard a soft knock on my door. I opened it to find Miss Grimes standing with her hands folded in front of her, one of them grasping the birch. She couldn’t be older than 25, I thought, in the prime flush of her youth, with long, dark hair tied back over her head and a rosy pallor to her cheeks.
“Did you clean up the mess?” I asked.
“Yes sir.”
“Then come in and we can be done with this business quickly.”
“Yes sir.”
She stepped inside and I closed the door behind her. My quarters are simple–a bed for one, a washbasin, a small closet, and a nook for my writing desk. A small window at the top of the room provides good light in the afternoon so that it was hardly necessary to light a candle to see each other. I moved my chair from beneath the writing desk.
“Hand me the birch,” I said, and she did so without a word. A birch, if you have never seen one, is not a complex instrument, but rather a bundle of switches bound up by twine or something hardier so that they operate as one switch instead of many. This particular birch rarely found any uses. I think I had used it only once on an errant houseboy. But never before on an adult, let along an adult woman.
“Now bend over that desk,” I said, pointing at it with the birch.
“Yes sir,” she said, without looking at me, then stepped towards it and bent at the waist.
“Rest your forearms on the wood.”
“Yes sir.”
I walked over to her and lifted the back of her dress up and tucked it under her apron string so that it wouldn’t fall back down. I did the same with her chemise, and then lowered her bloomers to the floor. I could feel her legs shaking. It occurred to me that this may have been the first time a man had seen her nakedness.
She was undeniably a pretty young woman, with long, thin legs that filled out as they approached her waist. She had a small, yet shapely bottom, and delicate, pale skin that I knew would mark upon first contact.
“Feet shoulder width apart Miss Grimes,” I said.
“Yes sir,” she replied and moved her legs apart so that I could see the pink folds of her feminine parts and the smattering of dark hair surrounding them. I cannot deny that the sight excited me, and I felt a pressure against the crotch of my pants. While we butlers are not made for marriage and a family life, we are still human through and through. And seeing the young Miss Grimes in such a state before me, her beauty did not go unnoticed.
“You will remain still throughout and you will count each stroke,” I said in a stern tone.
“Yes sir.”
“You will be receiving thirty.”
I moved to her side, and measured the distance between the birch and her bottom so that the switches would make full, desired contact. I raised my arm back and brought it down with a swish and a crack.
“One sir,” she said. As I suspected, little pink streaks and spots began to appear on her bottom almost immediately.
“I suppose I should make it clear why you’re being birched today,” I said, then brought my arm down again causing her to jolt forward.
“Two sir.”
“It is not just because of the mess in the entryway this afternoon,” I said. “It is a week’s worth of messes that I repeatedly brought to your attention and which were your responsibility.” I brought down the birch again–her bottom was small enough that the width birch nearly covered the whole thing.
“Oww. Three sir.”
“Tell me Miss Grimes do you intend to move upwards in your chosen profession? Or is your intention to remain a housemaid for the remainder of your working years?”
“I wish to move upwards sir.”
*swish* *crack*
“Four sir.”
“And do you agree that your current performance is not becoming of someone who has any aspirations to better themselves?”
“Yes sir.” *swish* *crack* “Oww oww, five sir,” she said, her voice breaking a little. Smarting red marks were beginning to appear across her bottom.
“And do you agree that your performance is not becoming even of an ordinary housemaid?”
“Yes sir.”
I brought the birch down across the tops of her thighs and she jolted forward. “Ouch ouch ouch, six sir.”
“At the current rate,” I said. “You had better start looking for a husband, because no noble house, or for that matter any house, would keep a housemaid who can’t clean up after the dog.” I brought down the birch lower down on her thighs, towards the middle.
She gave a shout. “Seven sir.”
I brought it down a little lower, just above her knees. “Eight sir, oww, oww please.”
“Miss Grimes you are a handsome woman. Do you intend on marrying soon or do you intend on staying in this employment?”
“In this employment sir.” The following stroke caught her a little higher. “Nine sir,” The next one a little higher still. “Ten sir, ouch please sir please, I’m sorry for not cleaning up as you had instructed.”
I ignored her and paused to examine the results of the birch on her skin. Nasty red marks appeared up and down her thighs now and across her bottom. “Well if you want to continue here, I suggest you shape up now.”
“Yes sir.”
“Twenty more to go,” I said, and brought the birch down across her bottom. She jumped at the impact and let out a cry. “Eleven sir.”
“Miss Grimes, I hope you understand that nothing here escapes my notice,” I said, and landed another one on her bottom. She lowered her head to the desk in obvious pain. “Twelve sir.”
“So when you do not clean the windows or you do not dust the fixtures, it does not matter if Miss Benning is ill or away, I will notice.”
*swish* *crack* “Thirteen sir.” *swish* *crack* “Fourteen sir.” *swish crack* “Fifteen sir.”
She had started to sob now. “Please sir, I’ve learned my lesson. Please sir.”
“I hope you don’t ever find yourself in this position again,” I said. “It is very unbecoming of a young lady to have to expose herself like this for correction. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you realize that to take this birching properly, you’ve had to bare your most intimate areas to me?”
“Yes sir,” she said, crying softly.
“You have brought upon yourself the shame of revealing to me what only a husband should see.”
“Yes sir, I have.”
I brought the birch down across the tops of her thighs again. “Oww oww owww, sixteen sir, please not my thighs sir.”
I ignored her and struck the middle of her thighs.
“Seventeen sir, please I can’t bear it.”
“You will bear it if you wish to stay employed at this house,” I said, and struck her thighs just above her knees.
She started sobbing harder. “Eighteen sir.”
I struck her thighs again, and then again. “Nineteen sir! Twenty sir! I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”
The marks which had once been red were now a deep shade of violet. I stepped forward and ran my fingers over the raised ridges along her right cheek. She trembled at my touch.
“My, my you will be feeling this for awhile. I should hope to never have to repeat it.”
“Yes sir, you won’t have to repeat it sir.”
I stepped back. “Well let’s get this over with, shall we.” I brought the birch down across her bottom. Between sobs she managed to say “Twenty one sir.”
“You know Miss Grimes, I would prefer if you would turn your head to face me for the remainder. I very much should like to see the impact on your face.”
She slowly brought her head around and stared blankly towards the wall to my left. Her eyes were red and puffy, streaks of tears ran down her cheeks. She sniffled once and closed her eyes.
I brought the birch down once, then twice, then three times. On each strike her features contorted in pain and a fresh set of sobs accompanied the count. She was quite beautiful like this, I thought, even if such a scene was not beautiful in the traditional sense. There was, I might say, a certain sorrowful grace that the birch had caused to fall upon her.
*swish* *crack* “Twenty five sir, oww oww, it hurt so much.”
“You know I wouldn’t do this for every housemaid Miss Grimes,” I said. “A different housemaid would be out on the street packing, without a good reference mind you. But I can see your potential in this house, and I have chosen to believe that you will improve greatly.”
“I will sir, I will.”
“For these final five, I want you up off the desk grabbing your ankles.”
“Yes sir,” she said, and I watched her shuffled backwards and bend over even further so that her bottom stuck out awkwardly. Her lady parts were I daresay even more on display. I suspected she could sense this too.
“Legs straight.”
“Yes sir.”
“And I want you to thank me after each count.”
“Yes sir.”
*swish* *crack* The strike caught her off balance but she caught herself. “Twenty six thank you sir.”
I lined up again and delivered a harder blow. “Twenty seven thank you sir,” she said, sobbing almost uncontrollably now. I noticed on her skin, little places where just the tiniest pricks of blood had emerged, no doubt from some rougher parts of the switches.
*swish* *crack* “Twenty eight thank you sir.”
*swish* *crack* “Twenty nine thank you sir.”
“Bottom up,” I said, as I wound up for the final stroke. She shifted her bottom higher into the air and I brought the birch down harshly.
“Thirty sir thank you,” she said, and crumpled onto the floor in a flood of sobs.
I let her stay like that for a moment. No doubt she had not kept her position for that final stroke, but she had undeniably taken the others quite well.
“To your feet Miss Grimes,” I said at last.
“I can’t sir, I can’t.”
“Very well then on your knees. Forehead against the floor.”
She pulled herself to her knees and pressed her forehead into the stone, widening her legs slightly to accommodate the position. I could see it all now, perhaps even part of woman that I never thought I would see in my life. I’ll admit that I felt my appendage pushing strongly against my pants. I took a seat on my bed and turned my head to the door, waiting for it to subside.
When I felt sure that it was unnoticeable, I rose and took out my handkerchief and dabbed at the places on her bottom where the little rubies of blood had arisen. She hardly stirred at the touch, but continued to cry quietly.
“I take it you have learned a valuable lesson today,” I said.
“Yes sir.”
“Good, now put yourself together and leave this room in a state that befits this house.”
“Yes sir,” she said, and rose to her feet. She pulled up her bloomers from the floor and untucked her dress and chemise from the strap of her apron. She turned around to face me, her eyes still reddened from the crying.
“May I go now sir?”
“Yes you may,” I said. “And place the birch back in its place.”
She took the birch from beside me on the bed and made her way to the door of my quarters. But before opening it, she turned to me. “Thank you sir for giving me a second chance.”
“You’re most welcome Miss Grimes,” I said. “I do think you deserve it.”
“Yes sir,” she said, and left the room.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/tamgiu/punishment_birching_for_an_errant_housemaid_mf_no
That was excellent.