MAY 22
Dear Diary,
The most extraordinary thing happened this morning. I
was out in the garden doing some pruning (the garden is
going to look so good this year - the roses should be
marvellous) when two girls wandered into the yard,
wearing large rucksacks on their backs.
I say girls, but really they were proper young women;
they grow up so quickly these days. The oldest looked
to be in her mid-twenties and the younger perhaps
eighteen or nineteen years of age. Certainly too old to
be traipsing about in the fields as they were.
Brazen as a pair of young turks, the pair wandered up
to me and - without so much as an introduction -
demanded to use my telephone. Well! The reason for
their lack of manners was immediately evident:
Americans!
I had never actually visited their horrid country,
being perfectly content on the Braemor estate (although
I must, to be honest, confess a fondness for our dear
little flat in London), but Nigel had been there a
number of times on business and had gone on at great
length regarding our former colonials. In fact, he was
there right now, obliged by business to leave the
estate.
Well, right then and there I determined that these
girls must be taught some manners. Besides, things were
so quiet on the estate with Nigel away; it would
provide a spot of fun if nothing else.
"What brings you to Scotland?" I asked, leading the two
American girls through the rear entrance, past the
pantry and into the servant's kitchen.
The older one - her name was Karen (she had finally
introduced herself; the younger one was named Jennifer)
- explained that they had been on a camping tour of the
Highlands when they had become separated from their
party while on a ramble through the countryside.
Apparently, they had been wandering, lost, for most of
the afternoon. They had absolutely no idea where they
were.
Poor dears.
I bade them sit down at the small table in the
servant's kitchen while I arranged for a cup of tea. I
suppose that it was rude to keep guests in the
servant's quarters, but really, I didn't feel that they
were worthy to enter the house proper. Nigel says that
I am a terrible snob about things like that, but that
is the way I feel.
They didn't seem to notice.
I went through into the dining room and rang for Darcy.
He is such a treasure; never even batted an eyelash
when I asked him to dissolve half a dozen of Nigel's
sleeping tablets into the tea. As usual, he was the
perfect servant, bringing the pot in and carefully
pouring out three cups.
I was most cunning, pretending to drink my tea while
the girls, evidently thirsty from their extended
ramble, quickly polished off the pot. Within minutes
both were groggy and they soon fell to sleeping, heads
resting on the table.
I gave Darcy some instructions and he carried the girls
upstairs to the spare bedrooms to prepare them while I
went through their rucksacks.
LATER...
The older girl is named Karen Jenson. According to her
driver's licence, she comes from a town named Point
Hope in California. Her friend is also from California.
I might have guessed; they both have deep, rich tans.
Very unusual for this part of the world, as the weather
in the highlands is cloudy more often than not. Well, I
expect that the tans will fade quickly enough over the
next few months.
In Karen's picture, her blonde hair is long and
straight, but she has since cut it quite severely
short. Silly bint; it looks so much more feminine when
it is longer. She shall have to grow it out again. She
is twenty-five years old. Her licence puts her height
at 5'9" and weight at 110 lbs (I wonder what that is in
stone?).
Darcy, after preparing our "guests" in the upstairs
bedrooms, ventured the opinion that she is an athlete
or some sort of dancer. He dropped off the girls'
clothing (utterly horrible; I ordered him to burn the
repulsive apparel in the garden) and a large engagement
ring he said came off Karen's left hand. Rather
ostentatious, I thought, but then they are American. I
told him to toss the gaudy thing into the pond at the
back of the garden; our Karen won't be needing it
anymore.
The younger one - Jennifer Blackstone - also comes from
California, but from a different town: Bakersville. She
has curly brown hair which falls in waves down to her
shoulders. I must say, I approve of her hair style much
more than that of her older friend.
Jennifer is twenty years old (oh la... and I had
guessed eighteen or nineteen); she is shorter than her
friend - 5'4" - and weighs 105 lbs. No engagement ring
from her, so I assume that she is unattached. Perhaps
this is rash of me; with young women today, the
niceties of a formal engagement are often disregarded.
Still, I prefer to think the best of people. It is one
of my failings.
Darcy has just informed me that their effects have been
disposed of as I ordered. It is time, I think, to look
in on my new charges.
LATER...
They were still sleeping when I looked in and showed
every sign of continuing to do so for some time.
Perhaps we overdid it with the sleeping pills. No
matter; they will awaken soon enough.
Darcy has done a brilliant job of preparation. They
have both been stripped naked and are chained,
spreadeagled, on separate beds in separate bedrooms.
After one glance at Karen's nude body, I can see where
he formed his opinion of our Karen's profession.
Darcy has put the various artifacts of Nigel's ill-
fated (and, I should add, much warned against) venture
into the field of dog breeding to good use. Each girl
wears a leather dog collar at her throat, and has each
limb fastened to a corner of a bed by a modified collar
connected to a lead chain.
Darcy is so good at this sort of thing. The sight of
the girls gives me a number of new ideas regarding
possible uses for Nigel's discarded equipment. I made a
few suggestions to Darcy and he got right to work
making the necessary modifications. I do hope Nigel
won't mind.
We may even get some use out of those old kennels of
his.
I must say, the sight of the two girls gave me a rather
naughty idea of my own. I blush to write this, but if I
cannot be honest with myself, with whom may I do so? I
often become quite lonely when Nigel is away for
protracted periods of time on his business trips. He is
a very understanding man, and, on our last trip to
London, we went on an excursion to some shops in Soho
to purchase a few (this is a little embarrassing) sex
aids.
They are such a comfort when Nigel is away.
I decided to try them out on the girls. Karen got the
pink vibrator; the big one. Well, she is - or was -
engaged, and doubtless has more than a little
experience. (A girl of her sort always does.) I had to
grease it up somewhat to get it into her, but in it
went, like a rabbit down a hole. I set the timer to run
at two minutes on and three minutes off and then turned
on the power. It immediately began buzzing from within
the girl's... (I really don't know the right word to
use here) "thingy". She moaned and tossed her head a
bit, but didn't wake.
For Jennifer, I thought something a little smaller was
in order, but I basically set it up the same way and
left it turned on. The delicious buzzing sound was
clearly audible in the dark as I closed the door.
I am so looking forward to tomorrow.
MAY 23
Dear Diary,
Mixed news, I'm afraid. As I suspected, the older one
is causing some difficulty. She struggles ceaselessly,
and refuses to co-operate in any way. Why, I was forced
to...
Ahh, perhaps I get ahead of myself. I'll relate events
as they occurred. One must be properly organised, even
in one's diary.
I checked in on young Jennifer first thing the next
morning. She looked so delicious, tied there on the
bed, squirming madly as my little friend buzzed happily
away inside her. Her body, well-formed although not as
sleek and muscular as that of her older friend, was
covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
When I reached down to remove the vibrator, she was
slick and wet; she had obviously been enjoying herself.
Well really, I thought, and such a young girl. I was
tempted to become rather cross with her, but she has
such lovely, pleading brown eyes that I just could not
be angry with her. She is such a dear. And perhaps I
was at least partially to blame for her behaviour. As I
said, I like to think the best of people.
Gently, not wanting to frighten her, I brushed her
curly hair from her face and removed the gag (I should
mention here that Darcy had once again done a
marvellous job at converting some of Nigel's sports
equipment, this time into a wonderful little ball gag).
"Please."
Her voice was a hoarse whisper. I brought a cup up to
her parched lips and gave her a sip of my tea. She
swallowed gratefully and then looked up at me.
"Please," she whispered. "Where am I?"
She had a soft, lovely voice, marred only by her harsh
American accent.
"In Scotland, my dear," I answered. "You are on my
estate just outside Braemar."
She looked around, puzzled. Almost absentmindedly, she
began to struggle against her binding.
"Who are you? What am I doing here." Then, an
afterthought. "Where's Karen?"
"Your friend is in another room," I told her. "My name
is unimportant. You must refer to me as (I thought this
was a clever bit) 'Mistress'. You work for me now."
"Mistress?"
She seemed more curious than frightened at first, but
then tears welled up in her big brown eyes and she
began to sob. Poor thing; it will be a shock at first.
I replaced Darcy's wonderful gag, snapping shut the
clips on the leather strap. Jennifer looked up at me,
moaning through her tears, but I was not moved. One
cannot show weakness before the help.
Before I left, I replaced the vibrator. She struggled
and shook her head, but I could tell that she liked it.
Quite delightful.
Unfortunately I cannot report the same regarding Karen,
the older girl. When I entered her room, she
immediately began to thrash about on the bed, screaming
abuse at me from behind her gag, using the most
shocking language! Imagine. As well, she had managed to
expel my little friend from within her; it lay buzzing
uselessly on the bed in between her spreadeagled legs.
Well, I tried to calm her down. I sat next to her on
the bed and whispered soothing words to her while
stroking her forehead, but it was no use. She just
glared her hatred up at me with her beady little green
eyes. Goodness only knows what would have happened if I
had removed the gag.
What could I do?
In the end, I resolved to give her more time with the
vibrator. In order to make certain she didn't expel it
again, I called Darcy in and he managed - quite
ingeniously - to rig a makeshift harness using some of
Nigel's old lead chains. One length went around the
thin waste of that hateful girl, and another, this one
clipped onto the vibrator, went under her crotch and
was attached at the front and back. She screamed and
thrashed about like a child, but the intruder remained
within her.
Now, perhaps, she will learn some manners.
MAY 28
Dear Diary,
What a busy time we have had of it these last few days!
Who would ever have imagined that training new help
would prove so time consuming? I'm afraid that I have
been a little delinquent in keeping up these entries,
but I will try to make up for it now.
Jennifer has been coming along nicely. After two days
on the bed with her little friend, she became most co-
operative. I am now convinced that she is a most
sensible young lady. I confess to being a little
surprised at this; I had expected all Americans to be
loud and boorish (like Karen - more on her later). I
suspect that I will have to reconsider my opinion on
this matter.
I brought Darcy with me when we released her from the
bed. He clipped a leash to her throat collar, and then
undid the ankle and wrist fastenings. Jennifer just
brought her hands together and tried to cover her small
breasts as best she could. Delightful!
"Jennifer," I said, trying to keep a firm tone with
her, "modesty is becoming in a young lady of position,
but is somewhat anachronistic in a servant."
She sniffed as if about to cry, but then slowly moved
her hands away from her breasts.
"That's better," I nodded approvingly. "Now, are you
hungry young lady?"
She nodded. "Y-yes... mistress."
She remembered! What a clever girl.
"Well then," I told her, "You'd best go with Darcy. He
will feed you and set out your duties."
Her eyes widened at this, but she obeyed immediately,
moving slowly and stiffly to her feet. Darcy tugged on
the leash and she began to follow.
"One moment, my dear," I interjected. "Are you not
forgetting something."
She looked over at me, obviously puzzled.
"Your little friend," I explained, pointed at her
crotch. "Perhaps you should remove it."
Blushing, she reached down and slowly pulled the
vibrator from her... (well, I suppose I may as well say
it) pussy. It was slick and wet.
"Ah," I said, "You got on alright, then?"
If possible, she flushed an even brighter shade of red,
dropping her eyes and nodding hesitantly. She turned
away to follow Darcy, but I grasped her chin in my hand
and forced her to look me in the eye.
"Young lady, when I ask you a question, I expect you to
look at me and answer it. Do I make myself understood?"
It is best to be firm in the beginning; it saves so
much trouble later on.
"Y-yes mistress," she stammered.
"Well then, did you get on alright with your little
friend?"
"Yes mistress... I-I... liked having it... inside me."
She flushed again, but didn't drop her gaze. A tear
trickled down one cheek.
I brushed it away. I could become quite fond of this
girl.
Darcy gave another tug on the leash and she followed
him out of the room.
As before, Karen reacted violently to my presence.
This time, however, I removed the gag in order to give
her something to drink. She gulped thirstily at the cup
of water, but when it was finished, she began to scream
at me.
"Who the fuck are you," she shrieked. "Why are you
keeping me her, you cunt?"
Well, really.
I tried to explain the situation to her, but she
absolutely refused to listen. She just continued to
yell at me, all the while straining at her bonds. A few
moments later, Darcy entered the room and helped me
replace the gag. It was not easy and she even tried to
bite me at one point, but we eventually muddled
through.
"Madam," Darcy spoke, puffing slightly from his
exertions, "perhaps we should attempt a more...
forceful form of persuasion?"
He was, of course, referring the cane. Nigel kept one
in his den as a souvenir from his days as a
schoolmaster.
I looked down at the wretched girl as she struggled on
the bed. The harness holding the vibrator in her pussy
was still intact, but she showed little signs of sexual
excitement. The bed was wet, but my sense of smell told
me that it was not from arousal.
Well, I decided, there is nothing for it.
I nodded at Darcy.
"And bring Jennifer," I ordered. "She should see this."
Darcy left the room to fetch the cane. I looked back
down at Karen. She glared at me.
"You have no one to blame but yourself," I told her. "A
little more effort with your manners and none of this
would be necessary." I feel that it is important that
one should explain a punishment before it occurs. It is
so much more effective if the subject is made aware of
the reasons behind it.
Darcy re-entered the room, cane in one hand and
Jennifer's leash in the other. She stumbled in behind
him. The darling young girl's eyes widened in panic as
she saw her older friend for the first time in days,
but she said nothing.
I left the room as Darcy began to lay down a pattern of
stripes on the wayward girl's tummy.
Jennifer came along quickly after that day.
I don't know how he managed it, but Darcy located a
marvellous little maid's uniform for her, all wisp and
frills. It barely covered her naughty bits. I must say,
she looks quite darling in it.
We still keep her hobbled with short ankle chains while
she works around the house, but I really don't think it
is necessary any longer. Still, better safe than sorry.
Darcy did have to use the cane on her once, just the
other day. It was his suggestion - and a cracking good
one at that - that young Jennifer be given some lessons
in how to please a man. Nigel will surely expect a
certain amount of this sort of skill in a domestic.
I agreed, but only gave him permission to use her
mouth. Jennifer is no virgin, but I am certain that
Nigel will want to deal with her personally in that
fashion.
Jennifer was given her instructions, but refused to
carry them out, even when threatened with the cane. It
was inevitable, I suppose. At any rate, it took only a
dozen smacks on her lovely backside before she
tearfully changed her mind.
Darcy, ever attentive to duty, now gives her this
special training at least two or three times a day. One
can often hear him giving instruction in his quiet,
proper voice:
"There you are, young lady," he says, "take it all
in... you must suck it into the back of your throat
while massaging the underside with your tongue...
That's it; you're doing rather well now. Rather well.
Now, open your throat and let it slide down... breathe
through your nose... there you go. There is no need to
panic. You should be able to feel my balls resting
against your chin..."And so on. Darcy assures me that
she is coming along splendidly.
Still no progress with Karen, despite the fact that
Darcy has caned her on three separate occasions now. I
don't know what is to be done with her.
MAY 29
Dear Diary,
We had the most frightening thing occur today.
A police constable - Ned Smith from Braemar; I
recognized him from the last village fete (although he
didn't seem to recognize me) - came by today asking
questions about two American girls who had gone missing
in the area. He was, of course, inquiring about Karen
and Jennifer.
From my position at the door I could see both girls in
the front living room.
Jennifer was kneeling down in front of Darcy, dressed
only in her maid's uniform, her lovely mouth servicing
Darcy's penis.
Karen was there too.
We had finally resolved to get her out of the guest
bed, if only to allow Jennifer a chance to change the
sheets. The wretched girl was now bound up in a
stringent position by the ever-resourceful Darcy. Hands
secured behind her back, she was on her knees, bent
over at the waist as the chain on her collar had been
clipped tightly to a ring in the floor. Her knees were
pulled outward by two elastic straps, forcing her to
strain to keep her legs closed. If she relaxed, her
legs were pulled apart and her pussy was lowered onto a
large dildo (another of my "toys" from Soho) Darcy had
fixed to the floor.
Over the past few hours, she had grunted and perspired,
trying desperately to keep her legs closed, but the
straps inevitably won, inexorably sliding her further
and further down onto the dildo. After a while, she
would seem to give up, and allow herself to be
completely impaled (imagine! the "toy" was ten inches
long), but then she would grunt in anger and squeeze
herself up off the intruder.
"Sorry to bother you mum," the Constable stated, "I was
wondering if you had seen either of these two girls
around here?" He produced a picture of Karen and
Jennifer.
Well, he spoke with a thick, Scottish brogue, but it
was not so thick that the girls couldn't hear and
understand him! Karen reacted first, grunting as loud
as she could from behind the gag and energetically
banging her head and shoulders on the floor. Jennifer
moaned and tried to turn her head, but she was
constrained by Darcy, who quickly turned on Nigel's
stereo. The sound of the music easily covered up any
noises the girls might make. I could still see them
struggling, but there was no way the Constable could
hear them.
I pretended to examine the photograph.
"No," I said finally, "I can't say I have. Have they
gone missing, then?"
"Aye," the Constable nodded. He took back the picture
and placed it carefully in his jacket pocket. In the
living room, Jennifer was still trying to pull away
from Darcy's crotch, but he held her firm. He looked
like he was about to achieve his orgasm.
"They went missing about a week ago," the Constable
continued. "From the Loch Corivain area. They were
camping with some friends and wandered off."
"Well," I said brightly, "they haven't turned up here.
I'll ring you if I come across them."
"Oh, aye," he nodded, turning away, "and we'd
appreciate it, we would. Cheers then."
The Constable walked slowly away down the path leading
to the road. In the living room, Darcy was obviously in
the throes of an orgasm; Jennifer had stopped
struggling and was swallowing as quickly as she could.
As Darcy had said earlier, she was becoming well
trained.
Karen, on the other hand, seemed to be going mad!
She was thrashing about in her constraints, crying and
grunting as loudly as she could. The dildo ran in and
out of her dry pussy as she threw herself back in forth
trying to get free. Finally, she let out a loud cry and
sank forward, sobbing.
Then, a most disgusting thing occurred. With a loud
fart (I blush even to write the word), the horrible
girl relaxed her bowels and began defecating and
urinating on the floor.
"Good lord!"
Darcy pushed Jennifer away from him, causing a long
string of sperm to stretch out from his penis to her
mouth. Ignoring it, he pulled up his trousers and
strode across the room to where Karen continued to
relieve herself.
I am ashamed to report that I could only watch in
stunned silence, unable to react. Really, though, it is
not the sort of situation one could ever be prepared
for. Especially a lady such as myself.
Darcy reached down and began slapping the wretched girl
on her backside.
"Stop it," he ordered, raising his voice. "Stop it this
instant."
He continued to slap her as she stopped defecating and
the stream of urine slowed to a trickle. Finally, it
stopped altogether, and Karen slumped down into a pile
of her own waste.
"You little animal!"
I could tell that Darcy was enraged. He didn't become
angry very often, but when he did, it was terrible to
behold. It fell to him to keep the house neat and tidy
and it was a job he took seriously. I have seen him
beat a maid for failing to dust properly.
"If you can't control yourself," he continued, "perhaps
you need to be controlled."
He cast about, looking for something, and then picked
up the feather duster. Moving quickly, he reached down
and began inserting the handle into Karen's dirty
bottom. The wretched girl began to moan again, but was
unable to stop him. When he was done, only about six
inches of the handle stuck out of her backside before
the feathers spread out.
"Darcy!"
I finally regained control of my voice. He stiffened,
bringing himself to his full height and turned to face
me. His face was flushed red.
"Madam?"
"Have you gone mad?"
I had expressly told him that he was not to use the
girls in this manner. That was for his master!
At his feet, Karen tried to expel the intruder by
shaking her backside, but only succeeded in waving it
about. The sight looked strangely familiar.
"Madam?" he repeated.
I needed time to think.
"Jennifer," I turned away to look at our brown-haired
little maid. She remained where he had left her, on her
knees with spots of sperm all over her pretty chin.
"Get yourself cleaned up and then see to the floor
here. I expect all sign of this unpleasant incident to
be removed from the living room within the hour."
"Yes mistress," she answered, getting awkwardly to her
feet. Smoothing down her skirt, she left the room,
moving with the small, mincing steps mandated by the
chain hobble.
I turned back to Darcy.
He stood at attention, looking straight at me. Karen
continued to shake her backside, but with little luck.
She had begun to make quiet yelping sounds, almost
like...
Then I had the most marvellous idea! Perhaps Darcy was
right; she was a little animal. And we already had one
maid.
Perhaps we would get some use out of Nigel's kennels
after all...
AUG 23
Dear Diary,
I am writing this entry while seated in Nigel's comfy
chair in the bedroom. My legs are spread wide on the
ottoman and our Jennifer is diligently performing her
now-daily duties. Darcy has trained her well, and she
is exquisite.
She is no longer chained.
The little dear seems completely resigned to her new
position in life as our maid, and no longer
demonstrates even the slightest hint of rebellion.
Well, that is not quite true. Every once in a while,
either Darcy or I will come upon her when she does not
suspect it and we will catch her gazing out the window,
tears running down her face.
Ah well, young girls are so emotional.
LATER...
Jennifer has finished up between my legs and is now
running my bath. Nigel is coming home tomorrow, and I
wish to look my best.
I hear a barking from the garden out back...
It was Darcy, continuing Karen's training. He tells me
that it is going quite well. As I watch through the
bedroom window, he has her running through the garden,
fetching a stick and carrying it for him.
He has outdone himself with her.
She is naked, of course (Darcy boasts that she will
never wear clothing again), except for a set of thick
pads on her knees and tight, fingerless mittens on her
hands. These items are never removed; Darcy has sewed
them shut and set a layer of glue over the stitching.
Her mouth is kept open by an "O"-shaped muzzle; she can
still receive food and manipulate her tongue, but she
cannot bite down or speak in any way. Of course, Darcy
will not let her speak in any case. She is only
permitted the sounds a dog would make: barking, yelping
and growling. Darcy says she has become quite
proficient at the growling.
Her arms and legs are secured by an ingenious set of
chains and bars which keep her on all fours at all
times. As with the gloves, these are permanently
attached. She will never walk upright again.
Finally, the feather-duster has been replaced by a real
dog tail. Darcy has modified one of my dildos by adding
on a long tuft of golden hair. He tried so hard to get
it to match her natural hair colour, but I don't think
he has succeeded. It is, however, the thought that
counts. Our Karen is now able to wag her tail quite
convincingly. I am told that it is only removed when
she needs to defecate, which she indicates by whining
in a certain manner.
Of course, she also wears her leather dog collar.
Darcy has worked wonders. She has become quite the
little bitch. Darcy has even been talking about
purchasing a real dog - male of course - to keep her
company in her lonely kennel. I think that this is a
marvellous idea, but I will leave the final decision up
to Nigel. I suspect that Nigel will feel the same way I
do.
Oh, Nigel. I really can't wait to show him the new
additions to our household.
The sound of the bathwater stops and Jennifer comes
into the bedroom.
"Mistress," she says quietly, eyes downward, "your bath
is ready." Her beautiful brown hair falls enticingly
across her flushed face.
Out in the garden, Karen has had her tail removed and
is relieving herself against a tree, one leg in the
air.
Nigel will be so pleased...
THE END