Bradley was, in the opinion of Lady Carrington, the perfect butler. Proper, polite, and he ruled the staff with the iron fist that kept Lady Stirling's household in perfect order ever since the tragic death of her husband. Invisible until needed, the man could predict your every whim and satisfy it instantly. He appeared at her shoulder with the glass of ice water before even she had realized her throat was dry. The heat was oppressive in the drawing room on this August afternoon with its enormous South facing bay window. She took the glass from him gratefully. 

"M'Lady."

His eyes never met hers, as was proper. What she would do for a man such as Bradley to run her house. Her own butler, Spalding, though a dear man, was approaching his eighties, was stone deaf, half blind and was becoming forgetful. She had the rest of the staff care for him, just as he had cared for three generations of Carringtons but the fact remained, he would need to be replaced. Rebecca remained silent as to where she had found Mr. Bradley as she remained silent on most of her staff. Lord Carrington was far too occupied with some uprising in Spain and it's effects on commerce and Parliament to worry about disciplining the staff or finding someone to do it for him. There he sat, tormenting her beloved Rebecca and the other ladies of her literary circle who had all arrived at Lady Stirling's summer estate for a pleasant week in the country. It was only the first day and they had arrived too late for him to join the hunt with the other husbands and so he sat with them, talking endlessly of the latest bills before his committee. The man was a bore. Alas, it had not always been so.

Lady Stirling suggested tea should be served in the garden as a way to escape the heat, though Lady Carrington suspected it had more to do with escaping tedious conversation. Though, as usual, her husband could not resist prattling on even when surrounded by Lady Stirling's beautiful gardens. She looked at her husband. He was still a handsome man, though perhaps too many good meals and his retirement from military service had left him a little more corpulent than in his youth. Theirs had been a courtship for the ages. They were ever so young and perhaps as terribly foolish as many had said, but love had conquered every impediment in their path. Now, more than two decades and five children later, was it not expected that this passion should wane? Lord Carrington was still so very kind to her, but that part of her, the girl within her that had never aged since the blossom of her youth, would never be satisfied with mere kindness. She stood to banish these thoughts and decided that a walk through the gardens with Rebecca would both soothe her mind and rescue her dear friend from tedium.

"My dearest Rebecca, wherever did you find a man like Bradley."

Rebecca stopped by a rosebush and lifted a bloom to her nose, then turned to face her friend.

"Amelia, you are perhaps my closest and dearest friend, however, there are things a woman must keep to herself. Suffice it to say, my Bradley came into my service through an intermediary and I doubt very much there is another like him."

Lady Carrington smiled, though she was a little put off by Rebecca's constant refusals. Was it perhaps that Bradley had a past such as poor Angelica? Rebecca's heart always went out to those who were the most downtrodden, charitable to a fault. She was certain the scar across Bradley's cheek held a story of sadness, one she could guess at sometimes when she caught his eyes soften when he thought no one was looking. He was very good at hiding it, of course, but men were not so good at hiding as women were at finding. Rebecca's refusals only added fervor to Amelia's desire to know from whence Bradley had come. She changed the subject of their discourse and continued their walk through the gardens. Returning to the guests as Bradley strode into the garden and announced that the gentlemen had returned successfully from the hunt and that dinner was served.

The food was, as always, sumptuous. Lady Carrington was certain she should truly hate Rebecca if she did not love her so much. Gifted with possibly the most outstanding cook in the county, though her own Mrs. Donnely was a very close second. She smiled, the competition between their cooks was legendary. Mrs. Porter had outdone herself this evening and each course outshone the previous. And as usual, the wines chosen by Bradley were a flawless match to every course. Lord Carrington and the other men excused themselves after the meal ended to avail themselves of the late Lord Stirling's collection of fine cigars which Lady Stirling always offered generously to her male guests. As the men strode to the smoking room, Lady Carrington watched her husband go, finally, he had ears that would respond positively to his interests, she was still so very fond of him. The ladies retired to the drawing room to discuss their latest literary adventures. Invariably, as with men and women throughout the ages, both groups would turn to gossiping like fish wives. 

Bradley continued to show his colours throughout the evening. Lady Carrington could not easily dispel the pangs of jealousy she felt. She felt the sting of shame as she followed his movements through the room. Envy was not an emotion that pleased her at all. He seemed to notice her watching him and he walked towards her.

"Does M'Lady require anything of me?"

She felt a blush come over her, as for the first time ever, he had looked into her eyes. Yes, there was certainly a story there, a most passionate one indeed, of love and loss. And perhaps it was the wine or the food but she suddenly knew exactly what she required of this man. The girl within her laughed as she flushed deeply. Rebecca had seen her flush and as she quickly moved to her side she made an announcement that made Lady Carrington feel even more light headed. 

"I believe Lady Carrington is feeling unwell, Bradley, please escort her to her chamber I shall send Angelica to tend to her as soon as she has informed Lord Carrington of his lady's condition."

Mr. Bradley took her hand and lead her from the drawing room. Rebecca summoned Angelica and had a brief conversation. Her maid could not repress her smile entirely as she left the drawing room. 

She hung on his arm as though for dear life. His eyes had burned into her with a passion she had all but forgotten. She felt hot and weak as he escorted her down the hall. Her strength left her and she missed her step and before she could hit the ground she found herself in his strong arms. It felt wonderful to be held in them. She looked up into his eyes and their ardent desire surged through her.

"Are you able to walk, M'Lady? Or will I need to carry you?"

The words were soft, she could make no reply. He gently lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, his scent was her world. The room was dark, deep shadows filled every corner as he carried her to the bed and laid her gently upon it. He lit a candle on the side table and then leaned in so close to her, whispering softly in her ear. 

"Does M'Lady need anything else of me?"

She could not stand it any longer, almost delirious with passion she forgot herself completely, she leaned forward and kissed him. He returned the kiss passionately. She felt his hand gently slide against her cheek. Then down her neck. Heart beating through her chest she pulled away from the kiss unable to breathe. In that moment she found herself, the shame and fear overwhelmed her, would not Angelica be here soon with her husband? 

"Please, I believe it was the wine, the food, please make no mention of this foolishness to anyone, I beseech you."

He looked down at her and the passion in his eyes changed, it became more ardent. 

"It was not the wine, M'Lady, nor was it the food, M'Lady lacks discipline over her passions, perhaps it is high time you learned some."

Smack. Even as a child, Lady Carrington had never been spanked. The sting of his hand on her bottom made her eyes tear, her heart race, and her womanhood ache. She had been powerless before his eyes. She felt like a child. She had never felt such a longing build within her as he stripped her of her clothes. How she longed to feel his lips again upon hers upon every inch of her flesh. Then, suddenly, she found herself put over his knee and the spanking had begun.

"You have forgotten your place M'Lady."

The words were spoken softly but firmly as his hand clapped down on her now burning backside. She moaned deeply and bit her lower lip. Bradley said so many reproachful things of her, all were true: how she lusted for him, how she wanted to feel his hands upon her, how even now she wanted nothing more than to feel his swollen manhood deep inside her. Each reproach brought forth another strike. She could feel his manhood swelling and she desired nothing more than to feel it thrust into her, oh how she ached for him. As if sensing her need Bradley's hand lingered on her bottom as the latest slap rang home. It drifted across her burning flesh it felt so soothing. Gently, it slid down her thigh. It was ecstasy, his gentle touch caused her such pleasure she could feel her juices running down her leg.

His fingers slid into her wetness and she gasped. He touched her with a crescendo of movements bringing her the verve of climax, then he stopped abruptly. Smack!

"A Lady tempers her emotions."

Further reproaches, further strikes. A Lady does not succumb to her passions. Smack. A Lady does not allow her womanhood to drool like a hungry dog. Smack. His fingers had gone to her mouth and she moaned with delight at the taste of her own passion. A Lady does not enjoy the taste of her own womanhood. Smack. Nor does she enjoy a man tasting of her womanhood. She felt a soft kiss on her buttock. Then the other. He lifted her off his knee and laid her on the bed. He licked down the length of her leg, from the tip of her toes until he reached her swollen, drenched lips. Eagerly he licked and suckled as she moaned and twisted her body. Once again he brought her to the brink of climax before he rolled her on to her stomach, lifted her hips and let fly with another slap.

"A Lady maintains her dignity."

Smack. A lady does not crave a spanking. Smack. A Lady does not crave the feeling of a man's swollen manhood. Somehow between slaps, he had released his manhood and began to rub it against her. She gasped, she tried to push her hips back to take him into her. Smack. Despite the reproaches, despite the slaps, she kept pushing back trying desperately to have him inside her. She began to whimper, she was punished for that. She gasped, she was punished for that as well. Then, finally, he relented to her.

She yowled like a beaten cat as he entered her. She had never known such relief though the desire to have him was sated the desire for more grew to a fever that shook her whole body. And yet again the hand came down with yet further reproach. How she was a common harlot, how she belonged in a Bangkok brothel, how she would gladly take any sailor with tuppence to spend on her charms. And at that moment, she knew it was all too true, for too long she had let her desires go unsatisfied, and it had reduced her to this, she was no better than a bitch in heat as Bradley so plainly put it with another slap. This time, as she neared climax, Mr. Bradley did not relent, did not stop, did not pause. The dam broke within her and she collapsed in a fit of spasms and deep throaty moans. 

As Bradley stepped out of the room and closed the door, Lady Carrington sighed deeply. She slid from the bed to find her night gown and wondered what was taking Angelica and her husband so long, though she had to admit the wait had been most pleasurable. As she turned back to the bed, she saw Lord Carrington step out of the shadows. He had been in the room, watching, the entire time. She flushed, her heart raced as she could feel the cold fingers of terror run down her spine. She had no words, she had no excuse, she stammered and cringed as he walked slowly towards her. She could not fathom his expression which seemed to change in the flickering candlelight. He took her gently in his arms. The passion in his kiss was like nothing she had ever felt from him before. She looked into his eyes with a mix of shock and disbelief he met them with a look of deep sadness.

"I have been a fool, Amelia, please forgive me." 

As Bradley closed the door behind him, he saw Angelica emerge from the adjacent servants quarters with a delighted smile on her face. But not just a smile, Bradley removed his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe a droplet of Lord Carrington's seed from her chin. She blushed very prettily as they shared a quick kiss then went about their duties. 

Lady Stirling sat and smiled as she read her latest novel by candlelight. The muffled sound of Lord and Lady Carrington's passion could be heard from down the hall. She was quite pleased with herself. A love as great as theirs does not die, though it may lay in torpor for many years waiting for a Spring to return it to life. And of course, the longer the wait, the greater the appetite.

Mr. Bradley entered her room. She did not turn, she felt his lips on her shoulder.

"How did you know?"

She turned and looked up at him.

"A Lady has her ways."

She slipped her hands into his trousers and withdrew his still swollen member. It was still wet from Amelia's passions as she took it into her mouth. As she stroked and sucked the length of him, she noted that Amelia tasted as wonderful as she had those many years ago at the convent where they had been educated. She would certainly need to have another taste of her, and soon. This, she thought, was the beginning of what would certainly be a most wonderful week in the country.